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hoping to be finished soon. Not having an office was inconvenient. Constant interruptions were common, but at least the door usually slowed them down a bit. Now she heard every bit of noise that came into the barracks, and that was a lot. She pinched the bridge of her nose and studied the young soldiers clustered together surrounding something she couldn't see. Resigned to the fact that they weren't going to break up their annoying little gathering of their own accord, Lelia stood up to investigate. When they noticed her approach, they all assumed the at-ease position. They were gathered around a lovely floral arrangement. Patrick, and she had no doubt that he'd sent them, was clever enough to avoid something cliché like roses. Instead, he'd sent an arrangement of gladiolas and lilies that was simply lovely. The heady fragrance wafted to her nose, and she suspected she'd always associate him with that aroma.
     
    Lelia held out her hand to take the flowers. Her soldiers watched expectantly, waiting for her to read the card. “Dismissed, soldiers,” she said in a controlled voice.
     
    “But, ma'am,” one dared protest.
     
    Lelia gave her a pointed look. “Dismissed,” she said again, in an even-softer tone that she knew they'd immediately obey.
     
    After the soldiers scattered, Lelia read the card. Happy birthday , it read. Lelia almost gasped. How had he known her birthday? She'd nearly forgotten it herself. She rarely celebrated it; it seemed to only remind her of her orphan status. Then she remembered the paperwork she'd submitted when they arrived. All her vital information was on it, and no one would question a gunnery sergeant's access to it. She sniffed the fragrant blooms again. It was a lovely gesture and confirmed what she'd already suspected. But the situation was impossible. She glanced down at her watch. The flowers drew her gaze again, and something inside her softened. She'd never received flowers before, and these were gorgeous. Something about them reminded her of the softness in his eyes when he looked at her. Raising the blooms to her nose, she inhaled their delicious scent, again delighted to have received something so utterly beautiful.
     
    She was looking around her office for a container when the laughter outside the barracks reached her ears again. Damn! There was no way she could have her soldiers laughing at her. There was really no telling what they thought was going on between her and the gunnery sergeant. She stiffened her resolve. No matter what, she couldn't have any type relationship with Patrick, especially not under the close scrutiny of her soldiers. It was time to do something about the gunnery sergeant.
    * * *
     
    Patrick looked up when his door slammed open, expecting to see Staff Sergeant Stark, who was the only person with the temerity to barge into his office so abruptly. He was more than a bit surprised when Lelia stormed in holding the flowers he'd ordered for her the previous day.
     
    “Gunnery Sergeant, do you have a moment?”
     
    Patrick stood and gestured for her to enter. For the first time in his career, he was conscious of the tiny confines of his standard, government-issue office. Of course, the Grand Canyon would be too small if he was required to keep away from her. “Anything to get away from paperwork.” He gestured toward his hopelessly overflowing desk. “What can I help you with? Please have a seat.” What the hell was she doing here? He gritted his teeth in frustration. The last thing he needed at the moment was to be behind a closed door with everything he'd ever dreamed of in a woman on two of the most gorgeous legs he'd ever seen. The joke was on him that he'd gone bat-shit crazy for a woman who just about had Do Not Touch stamped on her ass. He watched her as she begin to pace in the narrow space between his desk and the door. Clearly, she was agitated about something. He leaned a hip against his battered metal desk and watched her restless