“Drop your pants, Sergeant.”
Ray Darling looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Well, Nurse Pritchard. I didn’t know you cared.”
The nurse tried not to smile, but Ray could see that the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. Still, she did have that hypodermic needle in her hand.
So Sergeant Darling sucked it in and did as he was told. Getting a gamma globulin shot because somebody who worked in the base snack bar had contracted hepatitis B was bad enough, but having the “Ice Princess Nurse,” Prickly Pritchard, give it to him made it twice as bad. It surprised him that she’d actually responded to his lame line.
Prickly Pritchard was probably the best-looking nurse in the flight surgeon’s clinic. Ray was just as attracted to her as anyone else at Hurlburt Field, but more experienced men than he had tried to pierce her icy reserve and failed.
“Fire away, ma’am,” he said. He was a combat controller. He was tough. He could handle one small needle.
It was worse than he expected. Ray bit back a groan as the serum went in. He couldn’t help wondering if Prickly Pritchard got her thrills out of inflicting pain.
“Pull ’em up, Sergeant. I’m finished,” Nurse Pritchard said. “You can go.”
Dear Reader,
I’ve read so many romances that portray military men as rough, tough caricatures that I felt I had to write about the wonderful, three-dimensional men I had a chance to know when I was growing up as an army brat, and as an adult with an air force husband. Sure, these men are physically fit and trained in weapons and covert techniques, but they have hearts and minds and feelings, as well.
Most of these guys can certainly assault a building with guns in both hands if they have to, but more often they are Little League coaches and Boy Scout leaders. They eat MREs (Meal, Ready to Eat) if they have to, but they can also grill a steak and toss together an omelet. If they have any shortcoming, it’s that they fall in love too hard, and too fast.
Ray Darling is one of those guys, and he has to work hard to get Prickly Patsy Pritchard to give him a second glance. When she finally does, it’s magic. I hope you’ll love Ray (Radar) Darling as much as Patsy and I do.
Fondly,
Bonnie Gardner
Books by Bonnie Gardner
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
876—UNCLE SARGE
911—SGT. BILLY’S BRIDE
958—THE SERGEANT’S SECRET SON
970—PRICELESS MARRIAGE
Sergeant Darling
Bonnie Gardner
MILLS & BOON
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To Mud, as always.
To all the men who’ve had to leave their women behind to fight for their country, and all the women who waited at home with yellow ribbons on their mailboxes and in their hair.
Contents
Chapter One
“Drop your pants, Sergeant.”
Ray Darling looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Well, Nurse Pritchard. I didn’t know you cared.”
The nurse tried not to smile, but Ray could see that the corners of her mouth had begun to twitch. Still, she did have that hypodermic needle in her hand.
So Sergeant Darling sucked it in and did as he was told. It was bad enough to have to submit to getting a gamma globulin shot because somebody who worked in the base snack bar had contracted hepatitis B, but to have the “Ice Princess Nurse,” Prickly Pritchard, give it to him made it twice as bad. It surprised him that she’d actually responded to his lame line.
Prickly Pritchard was probably the best-looking nurse in the Flight Surgeon’s Clinic at Hurlburt Field, near Fort Walton Beach on the northern panhandle of Florida. She had a curvy figure that could put any underwear model to shame, blond hair, blue eyes and flawless skin. Unfortunately, the good nurse was as prickly as a cactus. Not that that seemed to matter to the servicemen who came to her clinic. Her signature rebuffs to anyone who showed the slightest attraction to her only succeeded in fanning the flames of interest and speculation by every red-blooded male on base.
Ray was just as attracted to her as anyone else on Hurlburt, but more experienced men than he had tried to get through her icy reserve and failed, so he had never tried. It sure would be a big boost to his ego if Ray were able to get to first base when the hotshot aviator types who believed they were God’s gifts to women hadn’t been able to melt through her icy shield.
It was worth a try. Just not today.
He might be an excellent sergeant after ten years in the air force, but he still hadn’t perfected his social skills. That had been one of the drawbacks of being a “boy genius,” something he’d done his best to conceal when he’d enlisted, mostly by keeping