Valentine from a Soldier

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Authors: Makenna Jameison

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Valentine
from
a Soldier

 

 

Makenna
Jameison

 

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

 

 

Copyright
©
2013 by
Makenna
Jameison
.

 

 

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

 

ALSO BY MAKENNA JAMEISON

Christmas with a Soldier

Table of Contents

 

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter
5

About the Author

Chapter 1

 

I walked into the bar of
my hotel
,
finding it
packed
with Friday night revelers

I was a little surprised
since it had been virtually empty earlier in the week
, but then again, I was staying in the touristy Fisherman’s Wharf area of San Francisco. 
There was nothing like a group of happy vacationers
here for the weekend
to keep the alcohol
flowing.  Low
rock
music
thumped
from the stereo, but it
was
almost
impossible to hear over the din of the crowd.  Oddly enough, the loud noise
and
all the people crammed inside
gave
the entire
place
a
warm and cozy
feel
—maybe because it was easier to be enveloped into the crowd and disappear this way.
  Nothing was worse than sitting in an empty bar and having some creepy guy hit on you because you were the only chick there.  I could hopefully enjoy
my
dinner tucked
away
into a corner somewhere and then
slip
back
upstairs
to
my room.

I traveled a lot for work and was used to finding myself alone
in a new city

Monday through Friday I’d be in airports, on planes, and in strange hotels all over the country finalizing the details of the conferences I org
anized.  Vendor agreements, menu select
i
on
, transportation to-and-from airports, even floral arrangements—it was all
second nature to me
.  I had good attention to detail and was a people person, so the job
was a perfect fit
.  Finding
myself
stranded in a strange city over the weekend, however, was not something that I was accustomed to.  Although the weather here in California was perfect, my flight back home to Chicago was cancelled due to the snowstorm descending on the city.  I probably wouldn’t be able to fly out for another day or two, which meant losing my
precious weekend
to catch up on things at home, and more importantly, missing my best friend

s
b
achelorette party
tonight
.

Morgan
and I had been best friends since college.  We’d been roommates
our freshman
year and inseparable ever since—well, until her fiancé Josh came along
at least.
  I was thrilled for them but disappointed to miss out on
our
last weekend together as single girls. 
Morgan
was
a free spirit and hopeless at getting the details of something like wedding planning
nailed down
,
so
I’d happily agreed to the role
of being
both
her maid of honor
and
wedding planner

The
wedding next Saturday, which also happened to be Valentine’s Day, was the type of thing I hoped to plan for myself
one day

It didn’t have to necessarily be on February 14, but a wedding with lush bouquets of red roses and
an
intimate dinner with plenty of warm candleli
gh
t filling the room sounded just about right. 
All I needed was for the right guy to come along.  I’d also planned a kick-ass bachelorette party for tonight, which
right about now
,
Morgan
and all of our girlfriends would be enjoying
without me
.

The hostess told me there were no tables available, and I negotiated my way through the crowd until I found a seat at the bar. 
I was even dressed for our girl’s night out
:
my shoulder-length brown hair silky smooth, my makeup done just so, and
my
slinky black dress and black patent heels
perfect for a night on the town. 
I’d had high hopes
earlier today
of jetting off to Chicago and taking the cab straight to our first destination of the evening.  Unfortunately, a
fter staring in frustration at the “cancelled” sign on the airport arrivals and departures board, I’d reluctantly taken a cab back to the hotel I’d just check
ed
out of
here in San Francisco

Because
I’d been in charge of the large conference here this week and had brought in tons of business for them, the front desk was more than willing to
find
me a room.  I’d just dropped my bags off and
was now
down
at
the bar
to drown my sorrows and grab a quick bite to eat.

Sinking down onto my barstool, I glanced around. 
The group of
middle-aged
women
to
my left didn’t pos
e
any threat

They certainly wouldn’t be hitting on me and hopefully wouldn’t attract much male attention since they all appeared to be married. 
One of the women was giving
a loud toast to their
weekend getaway
sans husbands and kids
.  The older couple to my right was also unlikely to cause me any problems. 
The woman was happily sipping a glass of red wine and the man enjoying a beer. 
Maybe I’d be able to order a quick meal and eat in peace after all.

The bartender took my
drink
order, and I glanced down at my phone, looking at the flurry of text
message
s coming in
from
my friends.

Noooo
, you can’t miss it!

What?!  How can we have the bachelorette party without you?

I can’t believe the weather is ruining our night out!!!

I sighed, knowing there was nothing that could be done. 
On my way back from the airport I’d sent a text en masse to my friends, telling them I wouldn’t be
home
in time
for
the bachelorette party
.  I’d already warned
Morgan
this morning after watching the weather report.  Being a complete optimist, she blew off my worr
ies and said
that
she’d see me tonight
.  But since contingency planning is something I do best, I went ahead and lined everything up so that the evening could go off without a hitch
in my absence

She was getting married
in one week
,
so
it’s not exactly like we could reschedule
the bachelorette party
for next Friday night.  We’d be busy with the rehearsal dinne
r and other last
-
minute wedding
details
then
.  I’d have to just make the best of it.

The bartender placed my glass of
Merlot
down on the counter, and I was dismayed to see the couple beside me leaving.
  Hopefully someone looking to chit-chat
wouldn’t sit down be
side
me.  After the three-day conference I’d just pulled off, I was getting a little tired of making small talk with strangers.  Even if
I didn’t bat
an eye at
chatting up clients and conference attendees
Monday through Friday
, by
the time the weekend rolled around
I just wanted to relax
and unwind
.  Since going out with my girlfriends
tonight
wasn’t an option, I at least deserved to
enjoy my wine
in peace and quiet.

The barstool beside me was suddenly
yanked back
,
and
a
guy
in his early thirties
sat down.  He had short dark hair
, cut in a military
style,
and a chiseled, masculine face.  He shrugged out of his black leather jacket, and I saw that he
had on a black v-neck tee shirt and well-fitting jeans that hung perfectly from his hips.  Normally I didn’t like v-neck shirts on men, thinking they were too feminine, but there was no mistaking he was all male.  Taking in his strong biceps, broad shoulders
,
and muscular chest, I noticed that h
e
certainly
filled it out in all the right places
.  I couldn’t help but wonder what lied beneath it and then found my
self
blushing and turning away before he caught me watching him.  It wasn’t like me
at all
to g
o undressing a man in my mind.

He sat close since the bar was crammed full of people, and I could smell the clean scent of his soap and aftershave.
  When he ordered a beer, his deep, sexy voice had my mind spinning in circles. 
Could this guy be any hotter?  And why tonight of all nights
,
when I just needed a break and desperately wanted to be left alone, had he sat down beside me?  I took a sip of my wine, wishing
that
I’d order
ed
a shot of tequila instead.  Then I could have quickly
thrown back
my drink and gone.
  If I stayed to finish my
glass of Merlot,
I’d almost certainly have to say something to him.  We were, after all, the only two people
seated at the bar
who seemed to be here alone.
  Was I supposed to sit by his side and ignore him all evening?

T
he stranger beside me
finally
glanced over my way, and I looked up into his piercing blue eyes.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit on you,” he said in his deep voice.

I laughed, thinking that was in fact the cheesiest pick
-
up line I’d ever heard, but he had a look of complete seriousness about him.  He wasn’t leaning closer to me,
invading my personal space;
he didn’t have a twinkle of mischief in those blue eyes. 
If he was trying to pick me up he
wasn’t even very good at it.  Well, aside from the devastatingly handsome part. 
“Okay,” I said with a shrug, glancing down at my phone as it beeped again.

No worries
,
Sar
.  Get back as soon as you can!

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