Bulbs popped in his direction, but he didn’t care. On her way back, when she leaned slightly in front of Massimo to catch his eyes again, he jerked up his chin.
She threw that huge head of hair back, and even in that massive place that was filled with thunderous applause at the finale of a show even he thought was the shit, you could hear her loud, throaty laughter.
That was his woman.
That was his girl.
That was his Luci.
She was two inches taller than him, trailing a spread of heavy red lace, some of which was now gathered and hooked to a button at the back of the poof at her knees, her fingers wrapped tight around his arm, when they strode into the party.
People clapped, gasped, shouted, and two came up immediately, impatiently taking turns to kiss her cheeks.
It was the proudest moment of his entire goddamned life.
“This is First Sergeant Hap Cunningham, my man,” she murmured.
Handshakes.
Chin lifts.
“Please meet George. George Cunningham,” she introduced.
Nodding heads.
Clapping of arms.
She was eventually swept away.
Hap didn’t mind.
He got to watch her in her element.
It was an amazing show. There were hundreds of beautiful people in beautiful clothes there, at least fifty other models, male and female, several of them famous, like Luci, but she reigned supreme.
They loved her.
Worshipped her.
He knew that feeling. Though his devotion was a different kind, it was still all about Luci.
And anyway, the minute she was gone, they descended on him like he was a rock star, gushing how Luciana looked fabulous. How she seemed so very happy. How they hoped she was back. How they made such a handsome couple. How deeply they thanked him for his service.
And shock of shocks, all of that was genuine.
It wasn’t until a half an hour in when he was alone for the first time that he heard a meant-to-be-overheard, sniped, “Well, she definitely has a type.”
He was in his dress uniform, at Luci’s request.
He started to turn his head to find the woman who’d said that when he heard, “Of course she does. Gorgeous, muscled, red-blooded American heroes are everyone’s type, dahleenk, if you have any taste at all.”
Hap didn’t know who’d made the first comment.
But a tiny old woman who was in the most ridiculous outfit he’d ever seen said the last.
She squinted through a massive pair of insanely ludicrous glasses at a thin woman in black with a streak of red lipstick on reedy lips and went on, “You shouldn’t be wearing black. Although Massimo stamped next season indisputably in scarlet, it seems to me you should be wearing green.”
The woman in black got red in the face and scuttled away, the woman she was with following her.
The old lady stopped in front of him and peered up at him.
“I’m glad you turned out not to be a schmuck,” she announced.
“Let me guess,” he replied. “You’re Pearl.”
She did a mini-bow, straightened and said, “I see, yet again, my reputation precedes me.”
“Luci thinks you’re the shit.”
She did. Pearl Bazer was the person in New York, outside Massimo, she most couldn’t wait for him to meet.
“That’s because I am,” she retorted.
“I like your outfit.”
“Liar. You hate it.”
“It’s interesting.”
“I’m old as dirt. Interesting is all I got left, sonny.”
“I feel the urge to spot you. I’m afraid your necklace is gonna send you flat on your face. How much does that thing weigh?”
“I’m too old to work out and too stubborn to die so I gotta stay in shape somehow. I do it by accessorizing.”
Hap started laughing.
He wasn’t done when she declared. “Luci was right. I like you.”
He wrapped his arm around his stomach, his other he laid at the small of his back and returned her bow.
“However, you’re in the presence of a lady who lacks champagne. I don’t know what the Army thinks of this, but it’s my notion you’re dishonoring your uniform.”
He gave her a grin, a salute, and asked, “You want me to bring two glasses? You seem like a woman who knows how to double fist.”
She busted out laughing, reaching up to grab hold of his biceps as she did it, her shoulders shaking, her head hanging, and he decided Luci was right.
She was the shit.
Suddenly, her head came up, she appeared all serious, even if her eyes behind those crazy glasses were still dancing. “I invented the double fist.” She shooed him with her hand. “Run along, soldier. A citizen is in need.”
He didn’t run along.
If there was any human in the world he’d do this to, outside his woman, it was this old broad.
So he bent down, kissed her cheek, and muttered, “At your service.”
Then he shot her a wink and moved to find a bar.
He’d given his order when a man said, “You survived Pearl. You’re ready for battle.”
He looked to his side to see a dark-headed, good-looking, tall, fit guy in a really nice suit, nice shirt, no tie, standing there.
“I’m considering recruiting her,” Hap returned. “I have a feeling even with those glasses she’s an excellent shot.”
The man smiled and offered his hand. “Henry Gagnon. Devotee of Pearl, friend of Luci’s.”
Hap took his hand and shook it, replying, “Hap Cunningham. I like Pearl and I’m just Luci’s.”
The man broke the connection, muttering, “Just Luci’s.”
“Yup,” Hap confirmed, then asked, “Henry Gagnon?”
“Yes.”
“Dude, friend of mine has a coffee table book of yours. You got talent.”
Gagnon inclined his head.
Classy fucker.
“That probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from a grunt,” Hap noted.
“I think that’s something people have trouble understanding. Anyone who enjoys your work, and shares that, it means a great deal. More than you can know.” The man’s lips curved. “And it doesn’t hurt to know I received the royalties from your friend who bought the book.”
“We’ll start a library of them,” Hap joked.
“Obliged,” Gagnon replied.
Hap turned to the bar to gather Pearl’s glasses and his beer, a beer he’d ordered to stay in the bottle.
“Old fashioned,” Gagnon said to the bartender and looked to Hap. “You hold on a second, I’ll help you with those.”
“Thanks,” Hap murmured.
Gagnon got his drink, took one of Pearl’s champagne flutes and moved away from the bar beside Hap.
“No way to take the awkwardness out of it,” Gagnon began. “Pearl put Luci on the spot with me as her audience, and Luci shared about you two the last time she was in New York.”
“Fantastic,” Hap mumbled.
Gagnon stopped, and Hap stopped with him. “She’s radiant. You did that. I haven’t seen her like that in years. If I was that kind of guy, I’d hug you.”
He did not know this man.
But still, that felt fucking good.
“Glad you’re not that guy because I’m not that guy either,” Hap told him. “But nice you noticed, better you give a shit.”
“And I’m glad the stars aligned.”
Hap cocked a brow “Come again?”
“For you two. I don’t need to know the story, but warning, Pearl will force it out of Luciana and share to a small, select cadre of those she feels deserve the information, and since I was there that night at dinner, I’ve no doubt I’ll be one. I’m just glad the stars aligned for you to find each other and the story didn’t end at Cipriani three months ago.”