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was no hope. The blood stains would never come out. Too bad Shin Lee was dead or she’d send him a bill. Maybe she’d send one anyway. He had to have an estate or something…
    She twirled in front of the mirror and glanced appreciatively over her shoulder at her curvy bottom. The dress was so tight it all but showed the crack between her butt cheeks and the strapless top was cut dangerously low. She grinned, good thing her boobs were so big or her top might fall down. The dress was white, sprinkled with tiny iridescent beads that sparkled in the light. Matching white satin stiletto slippers and lace topped silk stocking completed her holiday finery. Catching sight of her reflection, Tiffany’s grin widened. White? Sparkles? But, hardly innocent.
    She chided herself, why not be a little racy? Most of the officers were married, but that hadn’t stopped them from hitting on her. She’d brushed them all aside, never considering interfering in their marriages. But from the hate-filled glances the angry Army wives spewed on her, you’d think that she took a different one of their husbands every day of the week. Tucking a glitter covered white orchid in the fiery mass of curls piled on top of her head, she tugged a few wispy curls around her face. Pulling her white fur evening wrap around her shoulders, she gave her reflection a saucy wave and headed into the night.
    As she got closer to the base, she could no longer avoid the memories swirling in her brain. She’d fastidiously avoided thinking about Brady—at least as much as she could. She’d turned off her phone, unwilling to acknowledge the countless calls Brady had made. At least in the first two days. Then the calls stopped abruptly. Certain that he’d left for anther mission, she turned her phone on. The silence that greeted her confirmed that she’d been successful. She’d driven him out of her life.
    Tiffany knew she was being unkind. Thoughtless. Rude. He was a friend, after all, and he had saved her life. The least she could have done was thank him. But she’d decided to write him a note, and have Marty get it to him. It was better this way. There was no future with him—that was certain. Why torment either one of them?
    But in unguarded moments she remembered the way he’d held her with his eyes. How he gave her courage. How he wouldn’t let her look away. His fierce gaze told her he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. That somehow, together, they would survive the night. And they did. She couldn’t have made it without him. Her injury was little more than a scratch and given the new Dermabond, what the doctor laughingly called medical superglue, she didn’t even need stitches. She sighed. Too bad the hurt in her heart wouldn’t heal that easily.
    As she drove through the snowy streets, the city seemed quieter somehow. Softer, prettier. She realized with a start that it was Christmas Eve, and most of the shops and stores must have closed early. Pulling into the driveway leading to the Officer’s Club, she hopped out and handed the valet her keys.
    He grinned at her, his eyes widening in appreciation. He hesitated for a moment then blushed. “I… I… hope you aren’t offended Ma’am, but… you look like an angel. A Christmas angel whose hair is on fire.” He blushed to the roots of his closely cropped hair. “I… I mean, you’re not on fire but…” His voice trailed off to a helpless groan.
    Tiffany laughed and reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
    Glancing at his name badge, she said, “Thank you, Private Mason. I am anything but an angel. But thank you for saying so.” Hardly believing the words came out of her mouth, she added, “Merry Christmas.”
    Inside, the hat check woman took her wrap—and oohed and ahhed over it.
    “Is this real fur?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
    Tiffany smiled. “Yes, it is. I have a very politically incorrect father and he always gives me outrageous gifts like this.” She added with