Operation Date With Destiny

Operation Date with Destiny

Copyright © Karlene Blakemore-Mowle, 2012

First published 2012

Published by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle

2 McLennans lane

Macksville, NSW,2447

Email: [email protected]

URL:
http://karlenebm.blogspot.com.au

Interior layout by
http://www.formatting4U.com

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a database and retrieval system or transmitted in any form or any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the owner of copyright and the above publishers.

Dedication

T
o the four Marines who have become part of my life over the last thirteen years.
They stand for everything good in this world and it
’
s been an honour to write their story. They gave me the courage to follow my dreams, so thank you for the incredible journey we
’
ve shared.

~
KBM.

Chapter
One

Johnny Tupperoni sat at the bar and scanned the faces around him. Music thumped from the speakers and there was no way to have a conversation unless you yelled—not that he was in any mood to talk to anyone tonight. Everything was getting on his nerves. He couldn
’
t even pin down the reason why he was feeling so out of sorts. The women all looked like they were about thirteen and for a guy who made no pretense of admiring the female body—the amount of flesh on display was having a numbing effect of him. He felt so…old!

Old?
The thought made him sit a little straighter.
No way—that couldn
’
t be it…could it? Nah,
he shook his head to dislodge the ridiculous notion.

He
’
d just finished a long few months of training and was now ready to kick back and spend the next couple of weeks doing nothing. He hadn
’
t given too much thought about what he was going to do. When you lived on Oahu, life was kinda
’
one big holiday anyway but he
’
d no doubt head back across to Los Cavernas at some point—after all being a part owner of a fancy island resort had its advantages. He could almost say that to himself now without choking on the outrageousness of the statement. Him, part owner of a resort
!

He was the only one of his original unit still in the Marine Corps, and despite the fact he no longer had to work for a living—there was nothing else he
’
d ever wanted to do. Besides—he
’
d go nuts playing host to a bunch of rich tourists all day. Nope, he was staying right where he was.

He was living the dream. He was single, answering to no one except his country and he got paid to blow things up—what more could a testosterone filled guy want in life?

What he needed right now though, was another drink and a fine lookin
’
woman to lift his mood; preferably one that didn
’
t look like she was still in high school.

A flash of red caught his eye and within minutes he
’
d forgotten all about feeling old as a raven haired beauty sauntered up to the bar and stopped one bar stool away from him. Tupper couldn
’
t help it—he knew he was staring and chances were, his mouth had dropped open as well, but the woman was stunning...and she wasn
’
t from around here. That much he knew because he would have noticed her before.

Be cool man,
a voice mentally kicked him in his head. Damn it—what was happening to him? He was the king of cool! She lifted her gaze to meet his and
cool, be damned
his inner awkward teen, screamed hysterically.
She
’
s looking at you and she
’
s hot!

The woman smiled slightly and the movement instantly set off a tsunami inside him. His dick straightened, his heart seized and then his knees went weak—yep Johnny Tupperoni, ladies
’
man extraordinaire, just fell apart like a thirteen year old boy with his first crush. It was official; he was obviously having some kind of break down
.

Distracted by this strange turn of events, and worried that the next major crisis could very well be his hair falling out—he didn
’
t immediately notice the man who was now standing behind the woman
’
s bar stool.

“
Take a hike dude—she
’
s with me,
”
he told Tupper, glaring at how close the woman was now sitting to him.

The hostile tone instantly sent the soap opera in his head running and thankfully, he was back in control. He
lazily
sized the guy up
. H
e was tough looking right enough—complete with a biker dude outfit a
nd bandana tied around his head and Tupper bit back a sigh. This was a guy lookin for a fight.

“
The lady
’
s free to sit wherever she likes…obviously she decided to trade up,
’
Tupper shrugged.

“
You better watch your mouth, boy,
”
he raised his voice over the thumping music coming from the sound system.

“
Sorry?
”
Tupper cupped his ear.
“
I can
’
t hear you—did you say you were just leaving?
”

He anticipated the guys swing and was able to duck it easily enough, which only enraged his opponent who then charged Tupper, knocking him back against the bar.

Tupper pushed him off and threw three punches in quick succession—all of them landing square on the guys jaw, sending him reeling backwards onto the dance floor. Within seconds, security flooded the scene and the man was dragged outside.
Tupper gave the burly head of security, a nod before taking his seat. He
’
d been coming here long enough to know the staff but also knew it wouldn
’
t be wise to push his luck again tonight.

“
Sorry about that. I
’
m not sure why he thought I was with him,
”
the woman in red said, sending him a cool look that was neither impressed nor particularly daunted by the impromptu floor show.

Tupper took in the woman
’
s crimson nails, a perfect match to the deep red of her slinky dress and lethal looking high heels. His gaze
followed
the length of her long legs and upwards, until he came to the bare skin on her back—exposed by the low cut of the dress settling on the tattoo of a set of angel wings. He itched to trace the tat with his tongue and listen to her sigh with pleasure. Whatever on him wasn
’
t already hard—instantly went so at the thought.

She may have class written all over her—but that tattoo didn
’
t wash with the high maintenance designer image she was projecting in this dress that clung to all the right places, yet somehow managed not to look
at all
skanky. He loved a bad girl and that tat was a bad girl statement if ever he saw one. Oh yeah—he liked a challenge and something told him there was one great big mystery hiding out beneath that dress.

“
Names Johnny,
”
he said holding his hand out and saw her hesitate briefly before sliding her smaller, well-manicured one into his.
“
What
’
s yours?
”

“
Destiny,
”
she said in that sultry tone that reminded him of hot sweaty nights tangled in silk sheets.

“
Not every day a guy gets to meet his destiny.
”

“
You never know your luck,
”
she said softly and he watched as a slow, sexy smile spread across her lips, causing a roar of pure, unadulterated lust to echo through him.

Most people who hung out in this bar were connected to the base in some way, but she didn
’
t look the type.
“
I haven
’
t seen you here before. What line of work are you in?
”

“
I
’
m an accountant.
”

Tupper sent her a
skeptical
lift of his eyebrow.
“
No way.
”

“
Way,
”
she shrugged slightly.

“
Wow. You know if my accountant looked like you—I
’
d actually look forward to filing my tax return.
”

She smiled politely, but beneath it, Tupper sensed she
’
d probably heard her fair share of similar remarks and wasn
’
t impressed.
Better lift your game pal,
he thought quickly.
“
Can I get you a drink?
”

“
No,
”
she said and for a moment his hopes teetered on the cusp of disappointment.
“
Not here…but maybe at your place?
”

“
You wanna
’
go back to my place?
”
he said, staring dumbfounded into those dark, bottomless eyes. This wasn
’
t the way he usually worked—he was the one who made the first move. He did the asking and okay—he had to admit it, sometimes he got a slap across the face for his trouble…but this woman threw him off his game.
Snap out of it dumbass!
His ego barked.
Pull your shit together and tap that fine ass before some other guy does.

“
I thought you
’
d never ask,
”
she said and her voice held a slightly sardonic tone.

“
Ah, sure—we can do that,
”
he said, striving for something a little more indifferent. He stood up and put his hand out to indicate she should walk ahead of him to the door. He couldn
’
t help but watch the sway of her hips in the tight red dress, his eyes fixed on the
intricate detail of the set of wings across her back. He wasn
’
t sure what he
’
d done to deserve this stroke of good luck that had almost
,
quite literally
,
fallen into his lap—but he wasn
’
t about to throw it away. Now, if he could just remember he was a grown man and not a God damn teenager—he might just get through this without embarrassing himself.