‘SO, I TAKE it you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Man Candy either?’
Fliss paused in her half-hearted attempt to cut up her breakfast with the flimsy plastic knife and fork, and stared at her friend incredulously. Then, given the din of the several hundred men in the Army mess tent, assumed she must have misheard. Clearly the latest forty-eight-hour shift had messed with her imagination.
‘Say again? For a minute there I thought you said Colonel Man Candy.’
‘Yeah, I did.’ Her friend grinned wickedly. ‘But it gets better. Apparently up until a few months ago he was Major Man Candy.’
Fliss snorted. ‘Major Man Candy? Seriously, Elle?’
‘Seriously.’
‘People actually call him that?’
‘They actually do.’ Her friend shrugged. ‘To the extent that I have no idea what his real name is. But I can tell you that a good portion of the camp is buzzing about his arrival, male and female as it happens, though for different reasons. Apparently, he’s also something of a maverick who has risked his life for his men on multiple occasions.’
Unconvinced, Fliss wrinkled her nose.
‘I haven’t heard any buzz. Not even a single z.’
‘No, well, you wouldn’t—you don’t indulge in gossip and anyone who knows you knows better than to engage with you unless it’s strictly Army related, preferably medical.’
‘I do...gossip.’ Fliss nodded uncertainly, biting back the fact she’d been about to comment that it would be inappropriate for any colonel, Man Candy or otherwise, to have any kind of relationship with most of the camp.
Her friend’s snort said it all.
‘Fliss, you cannot gossip for the life of you. And certainly not about fellow military colleagues.’
‘I don’t agree. For a start this, what we’re doing right now, is gossip.’
‘No, this is me gossiping and you listening, about to say something like, Well, interpersonal relationships between ranks aren’t appropriate because they compromise the integrity of a unit.’
Caught red-handed, Fliss could only flush as her friend laughed fondly. She lifted her head.
‘Well...it is true.’
‘Fliss, you know that I love you. In fact, if you were a stick of rock you’d have Army Rules and Regulations stamped through and through.’
Fliss blew out a deep breath, a familiar ripple of uncertainty and frustration lapping somewhere inside her before settling back down again. She’d always been known as serious Fliss, nerdy Fliss, prim and proper Fliss; she couldn’t help it, it was ingrained in her. The result, no doubt, of having being raised from the age of eight by an uncle who was a military man through and through, believing in the extremely high reputation of the British Army with its strong sense of discipline, values and ethics.
And he’d drilled it into her. Not that she was complaining—her highly principled uncle had been her one saviour, her rock, throughout her life. The one person who hadn’t seen her as a burden, but as a bright though shy girl with potential. The one person who hadn’t rejected her. Her uncle had spent twenty-five years supporting her and encouraging her. He’d been so proud of her when she’d finally achieved her dream of becoming an Army trauma doctor, just as she was immensely proud that he was now one of the most highly decorated generals in the army, and that she could call herself his niece.
Spearing a lump of scrambled egg, Fliss popped it into her mouth, but her throat was a little too tight to swallow. Not for the first time, she wished she could forget the baggage and lessons of her past. Just once it would be nice to know what it felt like not to be the solid, dependable Fliss who immediately assessed the ramifications of any given situation, but to be more like her friend, Elle, who was always able to have a carefree laugh and whose sunny disposition and kind-hearted openness made her popular wherever she went.
‘Go on, then—’ Fliss plastered a cheery smile onto her face ‘—tell me more about Major Man Candy.’
She didn’t miss the flash of suspicion on her friend’s face but, to her credit, Elle didn’t question it.
‘Okay, so it seems he’s been infantry major on the front line in warzones, doing several back-to-back tours of duty over the last few years, and, like I said, he has a reputation as being quite the maverick, the kind of guy they make Hollywood films about. Plus, Man Candy has the kind of military commendation record which would leave even the most decorated generals or admirals envious.’
‘And now he’s a colonel in a non-combat zone?’ Fliss looked dubious. ‘Stuck within the confines of a place like Camp Razorwire and meant to work behind a desk all day instead of out in the field. He isn’t going to like that, is he?’
She could still remember the year when her uncle had been promoted from a field-based officer to one who spent most of his time in barracks. He’d found the transition hard and Fliss had hated to see his frustration.
‘Well, if half the single female contingent I’ve heard chatting about him get their way, I think he’s going to be too busy dealing with ambushes and bombardments of a more sexual nature to miss being on the front line in the middle of the action.’
‘You make it seem like they’re all highly sex-charged.’ Fliss frowned, aware she was being prudish but unable to help herself. ‘They are professional soldiers.’
‘And they’re also women,’ Elle pointed out airily, accustomed to Fliss’s more steadfast opinions. ‘Single women. Out here for six months at a time. They’re entitled to a bit of harmless flirtation in their downtime.’
‘Until it all goes wrong,’ Fliss shot back, but a hint of niggling doubt had already set in. Elle’s argument was all starting to sound a little too pointed.
‘For example, if two officers—let’s say like you and oh, I don’t know, a certain new colonel—were to... As long as you were discreet, what harm could it cause?’
‘I knew it,’ exclaimed Fliss, dropping her plastic cutlery on the paper plate. ‘Forget it, Elle. That’s just not my style.’
‘Why not? Because you’ve never done it before? So what? Maybe this is your one time to do something crazy. Especially now that idiot ex of yours is out of the picture.’
A heaviness pressed on Fliss’s chest. Not sadness exactly, but a sense of...failure. She strived to ignore it.
‘Because he doesn’t sound like the kind