Shield of Faith

By Terra Blakemore

How many times can life take a detour and love find its way home? How many times can two hearts cross before they beat as one?

In Shield of Faith is a contemporary novel spanning twelve years in the lives of twenty-nine-year-old Justice Shield and twenty-seven-year-old Freedom Forrester. Faith is undercover, justice is denied, an

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trilogy Christian Publishing
• Release date: May 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798890419545

Terra Blakemore

Terra Blakemore is an avid reader and creative writer with a master's degree in English. She wields words for good and for God through her contemporary novels and her professional website (www.godswordprofessor.com) as God's word professor. Currently, she lives with her family in East Texas where her ministry and mission is to change the world one good word at a time, one great book at a time, and one unique person at a time.

Book preview

Dedication

I dedicate this book to God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I thank God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit because, without God, I could do nothing, but with God, all things are possible. Second, I thank my loving mom, Ruthie, my supportive brother, Jerimi, and my encouraging girl, LaBriah, for who they are and all they have done, especially for me, during this writing process. Third, I thank my uncles, Charlie, Fred, and Kevin, all military veterans, for their service to this country and for sharing their military memories with me. I write this book in memory of my uncle, Lester, who passed away before this book was completed. Finally, I thank my extended family and friends, prayer warriors and brothers and sisters in Christ, and every unsung hero, especially all the men and women who have served in the US military and in law enforcement in every capacity. Thank you for your service, and may you be encouraged, loved, and blessed richly and abundantly.

Shield /SHēld/

noun

a broad piece of armor held for protection against blows, missiles.

a person or thing that acts as a protective barrier or screen.

a sports trophy consisting of an engraved metal plate mounted on a piece of wood.

a drawing or model of shield used for displaying a coat of arms.

verb

protect or hide.

Justice /’jǝstis/

noun

just behavior or treatment.

the quality of being fair and reasonable.

a judge or magistrate.

Faith /fāTH/

noun

complete trust or confidence.

belief in a religion.

a system of religious belief.¹

---

1. Pocket Oxford American Dictionary and Thesaurus. 3rd edition. New York: Oxford University Press, 2010.

Snowfalls

Do not love the world nor the things of the world.

If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.

For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes

and the boastful pride of life, is not from the Father, but is from the world.

The world is passing away, and also its lusts;

but the one who does the will of God lives forever.

1 John 2:15–17 (NASB)

Red Rose Bar and Grille

Homeport, Texas

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Pour it out, Justice! Pour it out!

Not tonight. Surrounded by seven of his closest friends, some from his tour of duty in the Marine Corps and others from college and childhood, twenty-nine-year-old Justice Banner Shield sank into his seat at the Red Rose Bar and Grille, nursing his second glass of ginger ale. There’s a snowstorm swirling outside, and you’re getting married tomorrow. So, as your best man, I’d rather not have a hangover.

Machai’s dark-brown face split into a grin. I’m not letting you off the hook this time, Ice. He grabbed Justice’s shoulder, then squeezed. Hard. Before the night’s over, you’re gonna thaw out that cold heart and play Sip or Spill with us.

Kip Parsons rapped his glass bottle on the table, a mischievous gleam in his light-brown eyes, deep dimples in his lily-white cheeks. Leave him alone, Chai! Everybody knows Ice can’t hold any liquor.

More like three glasses. Kimo Kim grinned, his silky-black hair tied in a ponytail. He ticked the numbers off on his olive-tan fingers. One glass gets him relaxed and reflective. Two glasses make him happy and sociable. Three glasses make him musical and romantic. More than that, he’s drunk and sleepy—usually out for the count.

Branson Proudfoot laughed, his pitch-black hair shoulder-length. Ice is more amorous and entertaining than violent and dangerous, and his worst side effects are usually a slight hangover and some memory loss.

"Permanent memory loss?" Evaristo Rivas, the youngest at age twenty-five, asked, his dark-brown eyes round and wide, his dark-brown hair short and curly.

Usually twenty-four hours, Machai said. Sometimes longer.

Across from Justice, Nobleton Prince frowned, lines in his golden-brown forehead, curiosity in his amber eyes. "Why are you guys calling Justice Ice?"

That’s easy! Tiger Newsome, tall and brown, said. "In the military, he was always so stoic—so rigid—cold, reserved, and frigid and always stuck on following rules and procedures. He loved chomping on ice, too, and he’s got the bluest eyes we’ve ever seen on any black man. So, naturally, we called him ‘Just-Ice,’ and over time, we dropped the first four letters of his name and just called him ‘Ice.’"

Tiger rubbed his dark-bearded chin. The only time he ever relaxed and showed some emotion or passion was when he had a few drinks.

What’s worse, Branson said, is that he plays the same song, ‘First Love.’

That’s right! Kimo said. If he’s in a really good mood, he’ll sing the lyrics in Japanese.

Nobleton’s jaw dropped. Justice knows Japanese?

Kimo laughed. I’m the one who taught him when we were kids.

He speaks Spanish too, Evaristo said. He’s not fluent, but he and I used to practice together.

If he wants to draw more ladies, he’s definitely on the right track, learning their heart songs and love languages, Machai said. Every time he drinks more than he should and starts singing songs or playing the piano, the ladies are like honey bees, swarming around him.

He’s a lady magnet; that’s what he is, Kip said. All the women fall for him on the spot and want to take him home. He’s that irresistible.

Justice remained silent, quietly sipping his ginger ale and letting his friends do what they loved doing most—roasting him. As a military veteran and a police officer, he knew when to speak and when to remain silent. In this case, remaining silent was his best option. If the guys wanted to dissect every aspect of his life, that was fine with him. Let them speculate; let them psychoanalyze; let them leave him alone.

He was already twenty-nine, on the verge of turning thirty on February 18, and yet, his life was a far cry from where he wanted it to be. He had been out of the military for three years, actively patrolling the streets of Cheerwell, Texas, as a police officer since then, and he had no wife, no children, and no permanent house to call his own. Since his discharge from the military, he had bought some prime real estate, but he had been living in a forty-foot converted school bus home that some of his friends had helped him renovate. He hadn’t wanted to build or buy a traditional home until he had found the right woman, the perfect wife.

He could hear his biological clock ticking, and the thought of being a bachelor at age thirty and beyond bothered him. Since age twelve, he had always dreamed of finding his bride and getting married and having children before he turned forty years old. He had always envisioned having a big family, like his parents, and a dream house filled with love, laughter, life, and light, complete with some family pets. But as of yet, none of his dreams had come to pass, and he was beginning to doubt they ever would.

Justice and I have known each other for three years, Nobleton said. In all that time, I’ve never known him to drink anything alcoholic—not beer or wine.

He doesn’t like losing control or his memory, Kimo said. He got tired of waking up with no recollection of what he had done or who he had done it with.

Apparently, someone had been paying attention and knew him well. Justice glanced at Kimo, then raised his thumb.

Kimo winked.

What’s this game you guys keep referring to—Sip or Spill? Nobleton asked.

Kip leaned forward and raked milky-white fingers through his layered, dark-brown hair. It’s more like an icebreaker or a getting-to-know-you-better game, where we ask one another questions, and the person responding has the option to sip it, being evasive and taking a drink to pass the question on to the next person, or spill it, being direct, answering the question as honestly or as truthfully as possible.

It’s an invasion of privacy. Justice shrugged Machai’s hand from his shoulder, tired of being talked about as though he was invisible. And I don’t need alcohol to relax. I definitely don’t need it to have fun.

What’s wrong with sharing some drinks with your friends, especially during a special occasion? Machai asked. "It’s not like we see each other every day, and it’s not like you’re some Holy Roller or churchgoer either. You’re the least spiritual or religious guy here.

Besides that, we’ve always had one another’s back, in good times and bad. You know that, Ice. We hold one another accountable, and we don’t leave anyone behind. We’ve never left you hanging or put you in danger either because we’re brothers in every way except blood.

That’s right! Branson said. One drink won’t hurt you, and two won’t kill you.

We’ll even call a cab and make sure you get to the hotel safely, Kimo said.

Justice shifted in his seat, then framed his face in his light-brown hands. He knew the guys wouldn’t stop badgering him until he shared at least one drink with them and played one round of their silly game. In this case, resistance was futile. All right! Justice pushed his ginger ale aside. One drink and one round. That’s all.

Machai clamped his hand on Justice’s shoulder again. Thanks, friend! I knew you wouldn’t let us down.

Kimo clapped his hands. That’s more like it, Ice!

Tiger lifted his half-full glass. Let the games begin!

Machai lowered his hand from Justice’s shoulder, then pushed an empty glass in front of him. Here’s to friendship! Brotherhood too!

Kip smiled, then slid a full bottle in front of Justice. Sip or Spill?

Justice audibly sighed. What’s the question?

Kip puckered his lips, then tapped his fingers together. Have you ever been in love?

Spill it. Justice poured liquid from the bottle into his empty glass, then faced Kip. First and only time, during a ballroom dancing class, with my dance partner, when I was twelve years old and she was ten.

Woo-hoo! Young love! Branson rubbed his tanned hands together, glee in his dark-brown eyes. What was the name of your first love?

Faith. Justice poured more liquid into the glass. I never knew her last name at any given time, but I offered her a green lollipop ring after our last dance and told her in about ten years, I would find her again and see if she was ready to marry me.

Evaristo gawked at Justice, his mouth wide open. You proposed to a ten-year-old girl?

"Actually, she proposed to me first, about two years earlier, when she was eight and I was ten.

That was the first time we met, when my twin brother, Jacson, and I, along with Kimo and his twin sister, Kima, attended the annual Cheerwell Twin Festival, and we formed a band on the spot, so we could perform during the Twin Talent Showcase.

Kimo snapped his fingers. "I remember! We called ourselves The KJs, and you played the piano and sang vocals, Jacson played drums, I played guitar, and Kima did lead vocals. We were jamming pretty well until this tall, sassy, green-eyed eight-year-old girl marched onto the stage strumming an Evergrace guitar and taking The KJs to a whole new level after she grabbed a microphone and belted our song out so well that we got a standing ovation, then a request for an encore.

But she didn’t hang around. Instead, the girl ran across the stage, hugged Justice, then ran off the stage, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared, and, of course, nobody knew her name. The emcee nicknamed her Lady Mysterious.

I called her Lady M. Justice smiled, remembering that private moment with his mystery girl. "Before she left, she wrapped her arms around my neck, then whispered in my ear that she chose me because her favorite color was blue, just like my eyes. She said I made her heart sing, and she liked me, maybe even loved me, too. Lady M wanted me to wait until she grew up before I chose anybody else because she wanted to marry me before she turned forty so she could make some great music with me."

Justice swirled the liquid in the glass. I never told anyone what she said that night, not my twin, nor my friends, not even my parents and younger siblings. I held on to it, like a secret, just between her and me.

I can’t believe you fell that hard and fast for a girl. Machai leaned closer, bumping Justice’s shoulder. Did you find her?

Justice raised the bottle, then poured an amber stream into his glass. Not once in seventeen years.

Seventeen years! Machai said. You’ve got it bad, don’t you?

Even then, she was unforgettable. To tell the truth, she was the one girl he had been holding out and waiting for all this time; she was the one he wanted to find and romance—the one he had pinned all his hopes and dreams and future on—the one he wanted to love and marry and have children with—his and hers.

Maybe that’s why you’re so lonely and sad most of the time, Evaristo said. "You’ve been separated for years from the person you love the most, from the person who makes your eyes shine and your heart sing—the one God created just for you."

He’s right, Branson said. You’re not completely happy, even with friends and family, because there’s something or someone missing in your life, likely what you really want—that person you were made and meant for.

Of course, there was something missing from his life—someone to love—a wife and children—and each passing day on the calendar just magnified that absence in his life, that emptiness in his heart. Even Machai’s wedding, though a joyous occasion for Machai and his college sweetheart, was a measuring rod for Justice because he was nowhere near that far in any of his relationships.

Yes, there had been other women in Justice’s life, and yes, he had been attracted to them, sometimes, even tempted by them, but something inside had always held him in check and had prevented him from crossing the line into physical intimacy and proposing marriage. That something was usually someone—that ten-year-old girl turned grown woman he hadn’t given up on finding yet—Faith. Each year that passed, though, it was getting harder to remain faithful and be true to her.

You always told me you wanted the whole package—a wife and kids—a big, happy family—all before you turned forty. Nobleton rubbed his dark trimmed hair, then tapped his fingers on the table. Is that why you won’t date my twin sister, Julianna, who’s been in love with you for the past three years? Because you’re in love with some mystery girl you knew when you were twelve?

Justice raised his glass, then took a sip, not really ready for a deep discussion about his relationship with Julianna Prince, especially in mixed company, with her brother included.

Honestly, Justice cared about Julianna, and he loved her, just not in the same capacity as he loved his mystery girl, and he hadn’t been secretive about his feelings, especially in regard to Julianna Prince. He’d been upfront with her the first time she had cornered him and told him she loved him. Unfortunately, Julianna wasn’t deterred. She was faithful in pursuing him, and she was still intent on making Justice hers and hers alone. Julianna and I are friends, nothing more.

Nobleton raised his dark eyebrow. "She doesn’t want to be your friend; she wants to be your wife and the mother of your children."

I know. Justice lowered his glass to the table, then glanced at Evaristo sitting beside Nobleton. Next person, next question.

Evaristo nodded. In one word, how would you describe Faith?

Amazing. Justice relaxed in his seat, remembering the last time he and Faith had danced together. She’s beautiful, almost exotic, with the most intense green eyes, the color of emeralds. She’s got long, dark-brown hair, threaded with golden highlights, falling down her back in spiraling curls, with twin curls falling around her creamy-brown face, and she’s graceful, athletic, outspoken, daring, and mature for her age.

Sounds like she made a big impression—a lasting one. Kimo leaned forward, his hands planted on the table. If you can’t find her, will you give up and marry someone else?

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Justice grabbed the cool glass, then raised it to his lips, taking more than one sip, his thoughts swirling as fast as the liquid running down his throat.

He couldn’t imagine a time when he hadn’t been thinking about his mystery girl. He had even used some of his resources and contacts in law enforcement in his efforts to find the girl, who was now about twenty-seven years old, but he still hadn’t found her or discovered her full name. Next person, next question.

That would be me and mine, Tiger said, his dark-brown eyes bright. "You said you fell in love with this girl at age twelve, but have you really waited on her, or have you been intimate with other women?"

Of course, Tiger would ask such a question. That was his nature, after all, wasn’t it? Justice covered his face, which was flaming hot, then he lowered his hands, wrapped one hand around the glass, and lifted it to his mouth, gulping down the remaining liquid. Next person. I’m done!

Grabbing his ginger ale, Justice swallowed the rest of it, then slid from his seat at the table, strode to the platform, and sat down at the piano, splaying his fingers over the keyboard.

A group of women walked in front of him, and one of them, tall and stunning, wearing a red toboggan, a red overcoat, and dark laced boots, drew his attention, and suddenly Justice was in the mood for a love song—something for serenading the lady in red and something that reminded him of his mystery girl—and what better song was there tonight than one simply called First Love.

* * *

Red Rose Bar and Grille

Homeport, Texas

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Still chilled from the freezing cold and winter snowstorm wreaking havoc outside the Red Rose Bar and Grille, twenty-seven-year-old recently discharged military photographer Freedom Forrester removed the red toboggan from her head, unbuttoned her scarlet-red overcoat, then slid to the end of the booth with her group of military girlfriends, all of them invited to an upcoming wedding on Christmas Eve: Nora Blessing, Nichole Ashberry, Sarain Ibrahim, Rheena Mason, Maricela Barrigas, and Kaleighia Richmond.

Almost immediately, the others ordered alcoholic beverages, but Freedom ordered a glass of ginger ale, ironically, with ice. She couldn’t help it, really. Ginger ale with ice had been her favorite go-to drink since she was ten years old, and this handsome twelve-year-old boy with the most beautiful blue eyes, named Justice, had offered her a plastic champagne glass half-full of it in celebration of their last dance together in a ballroom dance class. Afterward, he had slipped a green lollipop ring on her finger and pledged to find her when they got older so he could propose with a real ring and marry her.

A closet romantic at that time, Freedom had kept both the champagne glass and the ring, and for a time, she had hoped and prayed that that blue-eyed boy whose first name she remembered all these years would keep his promise. Of course, that was before she, at age sixteen, had stumbled upon a human and drug trafficking organization in her hometown, and her mom had died, saving her life, and her entire world, including her family, had been decimated.

Hawaiian-born-and-raised Kaleighia Richmond rubbed her olive-tan hands together, blowing on them, before glancing at those seated around the table. Whose bright idea was it for us to leave our warm, cozy hotel to dine out in the middle of a North Texas snowstorm?

Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Nichole Ashberry raised her hand. That would be me, and this snowstorm is nothing compared to winter in New York, she said, flashing pearly-white teeth.

Sarain Ibrahim removed her black gloves, then laid them on the table. Bliss Charlington is so romantic and favored; she probably prayed every night for snow on her wedding day, and God just answered her prayers because they’re close like that.

Red-haired, blue-eyed Nora Blessing laughed. That sounds about right. In the military, if she wasn’t reading the Bible, she was either praying every day or reading some romance novel.

I’m surprised she invited us. It’s not like we were friends. Rheena Mason crossed her dark-brown arms. She was always so quiet, so shy around crowds of people. I still can’t believe she’ll be the first of us to get married. Who even knew she had a military boyfriend all this time?

The shy, quiet ones are always the ones you’ve got to watch closely, Maricela Barrigas said, long tendrils of dark-brown hair falling around her tanned face. "They’re often the most secretive and sneaky, as my abuela used to say."

Rheena unfolded her arms, then pinned dark-brown eyes on Freedom. Sounds like someone else we know, doesn’t it?

Freedom faced Rheena, her own gaze unwavering. I’m anything but shy or sneaky. I’m selective and private. There’s a difference.

Nichole propped her chin on her hands, ever so glamorous, ever the snow queen, with her short, layered whitish-blonde hair and crimson red lips. You are twenty-seven years old, and as far as we all know, you haven’t been involved romantically with anyone. Don’t you want to be in a serious relationship?

Yes, Ms. Classified, Nora said, her pale blue eyes sparkling. "What exactly is your story?"

Freedom shrugged, palming her ivory-brown hands on the table. "There’s not much to tell, really! I was born and raised in a small town in Texas. My mom died suddenly and tragically when I was sixteen. Then, I got adopted by a military family, who got deployed overseas to Okinawa, Japan, and a few years later, they returned to the States and made a home for themselves in Heaventon Hope, Texas.

After I turned eighteen, I enlisted in the Air Force as a specialist in photography in the fields of public affairs and public relations, and eventually, I became a photojournalist, often traveling abroad.

How long has it been since you’ve been home? Seen your family? Nora asked.

Nearly ten years.

Have you been in contact with them?

Not really.

Any siblings? Kaleighia asked.

None that I’m close to—on the birth or the adopted side.

No wonder you’re such a loner, Rheena said. You’ve cut ties with your family.

More than likely, they’ve cut ties with me.

That’s sad! Truly! Sarain dabbed tears from her light-brown eyes. Family should stay together and pray together.

I’m fine! Really! Freedom said. I don’t need a man in my life either.

That’s debatable, Nichole said, brushing hair from her face. "Usually, the right man can make a sensible woman do the craziest things, like get married on Christmas Eve during a snowstorm."

I’m not Bliss, Freedom said. I won’t fall that easily for any man who crosses my path.

Nichole laughed. We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we?

Freedom crossed her arms. I guess so.

The waiter brought their drinks, and Freedom unfolded her arms and raised her glass, sipping her iced ginger ale, hoping her friends would find another subject to focus on because she didn’t relish anyone delving too closely into her personal life nor feeling sorry for her. She didn’t need anyone’s nosyness or pity.

Kaleighia leaned forward, drawing Freedom’s attention. "What exactly do you want out of life?"

Freedom lowered her glass. I want to open my own photography studio; travel the world with my passport, guitar, and camera, making some amazing music; taking life-changing pictures that inspire and impact people, expressing hope, love, truth, perseverance, and resilience; and I want to prosper and succeed, getting paid for doing what I love.

What about having a husband and kids? Maricela asked.

I’ll be content with freedom, fame, and fortune.

Isn’t faith important too? Kaleighia asked.

I lost faith years ago and stopped going to church after my mom died.

Sarain tucked a dark-brown strand of hair behind her right ear. But what good is it really to prosper in fame and fortune but lack in family and faith?

Freedom sighed. "Not every woman needs to get married and have children. Not every woman wants a husband or kids. Not every woman wants to go to some country-club church just to learn that she’s a sinner who will never be good enough, even for God. Some women would rather have wings to soar than chains that bind them."

Maybe you just haven’t met the right man or found the right church yet, someone and something worth investing in, Kaleighia said. My dad always told me whatever you love, you invest into that, giving of your time, your treasure, and your talents.

"I am investing in someone and something, Freedom said. Myself. My future."

But what does it profit you to gain the whole world and lose your soul? Sarain asked.

Who says I’m lost? Maybe I just don’t want to be found.

Someone tapped on a microphone. Hello, everyone! I’d like to dedicate this song to the lady in red.

Kaleighia’s eyes got big. Freedom! He’s looking right at you.

Rheena gave her a thumbs up. You go, girl!

Maricela’s eyes got shiny. This is so romantic.

Somebody’s got a secret admirer, Nora said.

Do you know him? Sarain asked.

Suddenly, piano music sounded in the background, and the chatter around the restaurant quieted as people began to turn their heads toward the platform, where a lone man with a clean-shaven head, the color of brown beach sand, with electric blue eyes, in a royal blue shirt and black jeans, sat on a piano stool, masterfully playing a song Freedom recognized instantly from her time in Japan—Hikaru Utada’s 1999 single, First Love.

Like the song, the man seemed familiar.

I’ll be back. Drawn equally to the man and the music, Freedom slid from her seat at the end of the booth, then walked like she was gliding on clouds to the platform, where she bypassed the handsome man and grabbed the microphone, seamlessly weaving herself into the fabric of his performance as she immediately began singing the lyrics of the song in English and Japanese.

Soon, she and the mystery man were singing a duet, their voices blending well, and Freedom lost herself in his alluring ocean-blue eyes and the words of the song. Before long, they finished, and the place erupted in applause, cheers, and whistles, and there were even shouts for an encore.

Freedom glanced at her music partner, and he smiled disarmingly at her, his blue eyes magnetic, before he launched into a new song, this time a classic 1981 R & B song called Endless Love.

Even as Freedom sang the lyrics with him, her heart thumped her chest hard, and she could feel warmth spreading throughout her face. Singing with him felt so natural, so familiar.

By the conclusion of the song, she and he both were gazing into each other’s eyes, and they were only distracted by the second round of applause in the restaurant.

Self-consciously, Freedom smiled, then looked away, brushing a dark-brown strand of her curly hair behind her ear. Thanks for letting me join you, Mysterious.

I have a name.

She loved the sound of his voice, which sent shivers all throughout her body. I like Mysterious better.

He grinned, his smile lighting up his beautiful blue eyes. I guess you’re not telling me your name then.

That’s right! she said, feeling flirtatious and giddy, all at the same time.

Then, I’ll call you Lady M. He stood up, all six foot two inches of him, and he grabbed Freedom’s hand, immediately sending an electric shock through her, all the way to her heart. "Nice to meet you. Again."

Her heart skipped a beat. Have we met?

You resemble someone I used to know. She had green eyes too. Her name was Faith.

Would you like to go for a walk? she asked, almost breathless.

His dark eyebrow quirked, but his smile never wavered. In a snowstorm?

Would you like to go for a drive, then? Freedom asked, hoping she didn’t sound crazy or desperate. She just didn’t want their time together to end so quickly, so abruptly.

That depends, he said, still holding her hand.

On what?

Whether or not you’ve been drinking.

"I’m completely sober and quite sane, if that’s what you mean."

He laughed. Actually, I’ve been drinking, so I’m the one who needs a designated driver. That’s all! My friends roped me into playing this game called Sip or Spill, and naturally, I drank more than I intended.

So you’re not a beer guzzler or raging alcoholic? Freedom asked.

He shook his head. I’m an ex-Marine and a police officer, and tonight is the first night I’ve drunk any alcohol in three years. Apparently, three or four glasses is my limit.

I’m a ginger ale girl myself.

Normally, I’m a ginger ale guy.

Freedom smiled, suddenly feeling more connected to him. I’m a veteran too. I recently got discharged from the Air Force, where I spent eight years as a specialist in photography. If you need me to drive you home, I’m fine with it.

You’re not going to seduce me or take advantage of me, are you?

Of course not!

He pinned her with those vivid blue eyes. So I can trust you to get me back to the hotel?

I’m trustworthy, I promise.

So am I, and thank you in advance too.

Which hotel are you in? she asked.

The Mount Royal. Suite 3000.

That’s my hotel, too, so we’re neighbors.

All right! I’ll trust you. He stepped away from the piano and tucked her arm in his. Lead the way, Lady M. I’m completely in your hands.

Freedom stopped him at the glass doors. Do you mind waiting here while I grab my purse and tell my friends I’m leaving?

He shook his head. Not at all. I have to grab my coat and toboggan too.

Thank you! She rushed back to the booth, where her friends were already eating and drinking, as though they had no care in the world. Apparently, her absence hadn’t prevented them from celebrating.

Have a good night, ladies. I’m leaving. Hastily, she grabbed her red toboggan and black handbag, then told them she was heading back to the hotel with a friend.

"You don’t mean that handsome man