No More Lonely Nights Read Free

grinned at the sight. In Cairo or Alexandria, there would have been shouts, curses, a ceaseless wail of horns. The carriage halted in front of the red striped awning of the café opposite. A man and woman in British military uniforms hopped out to cries of welcome from a group at a sidewalk table. It was just past teatime and the café’s little white tables were filled to capacity. There were groups of women and groups of men and many couples, all in Western dress. Their conversation mixed with the lively clatter of dishes as waiters bustled through the crowd. The scene was so inviting that Dominique had an urge to hurry downstairs and join in. She could leave a note telling her roommates to meet her there when they came home from work. Then they’d go out to dinner to celebrate their first evening together. And stay out as late as they liked! Dominique was struck by the heady realization that she no longer had to account to her mother, nor even to poor Nanny, who worried so much. Her life was beginning!
    “You’re very fast,” said the British sergeant who had given Dominique the typing examination. “They could use you in the typing pool, but…” He narrowed his eyes and studied her. Normally, he’d try to make time with a girl this attractive, but this one was too rich for his blood—didn’t take a genius to see that. Look at that dress: one of those plain navy numbers that screamed money. Kind of hinted at the hourglass shape underneath, but didn’t cling enough to let you know for sure. He’d like to see her without it. She’d be a handful, even though she was just a tiny thing.
    The sergeant shifted his attention to her face. Oh, yeah, she was a firecracker, all right! Lips a little too full, nose a little too long—but the combination
was pow!
And then there were her eyes. Reached out and grabbed you, those eyes did. Told you there was spice behind that rich-girl finish. Smarts, too. What color were they, anyway? The same as that stone in his mother’s good ring. Topaz, that was it. Dominique Avallon’s eyes were like topaz. And they tilted up at the corners in a way that made her look exotic. Or mysterious. Or something else that got him going. Stood out against that auburn hair like flames. Of course, he didn’t go for redheads as a rule. They usually had freckles—not his cup of tea. But this one had skin like golden honey.
    Girl’s too special for the typing pool, the sergeant decided. She’s the kind the top brass like.
    “Group Captain Hampton’s secretary just got married,” he told Dominique. A group captain was the equivalent of a full colonel in the U.S. military—an exceedingly high rank. “He needs a new girl. I’ll send you over to him.” He sighed inwardly. Hated to see her go. A looker like this broke up the monotony of his day.
    Fifteen minutes later, Dominique paused in front of the open door of Group Captain Stephen Hampton’s office. She peeked inside as she tapped the glass panel that comprised the upper half of his door.
    Hampton was bent over his desk, sun-streaked hair the only visible feature. At the sound of knocking, his head shot up, revealing an aristocratic face deeply tanned from years in the tropics. Serious gray eyes brightened as they landed on Dominique.
    “Good morning, sir. I’m Dominique Avallon. I believe Sergeant Williams phoned?”
    Hampton’s features at once settled into an expression of businesslike civility. He stood up and came from behind the massive oak desk to hold out a chair for Dominique. “Ah, yes, Miss Avallon,” he greeted her in his upper-class British accent, “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding me.”
    Dominique sat down as she murmured, “None, thank you.”
    He was so unexpectedly young! He couldn’t possibly be more than thirty-five. Dominique watched him return to his place and sit down. Despite his youth, he had a commanding presence. Dominique had the impression that he was one of those rare individuals who