Taming GI Jane Read Free Page A

considerable self-control. “I can assure you that I’m more than capable of handling myself in a tactical situation.”
    Tom frowned. “I’m not sure you do understand.” He knew for sure he didn’t. “What would you do, Sergeant Passerella, if six feet and nearly two hundred pounds of raging hormones were towering over you right now, threatening to do you bodily harm?”
    Three seconds later Tom was lying flat on his back on the wooden floor with no air in his lungs. Her movements like lightning and seeming effortless, Sergeant Passerella had knocked his feet right out from under him before he batted an eye.
    “Good answer,” Tom croaked.
    Passerella extended a hand and helped him to his feet. “Thank you, sir. I hope I didn’t hurt you. I tried to go as easy on you as possible.”
    Easy? Tom tunneled his fingers through his mussed hair and manufactured a smile. “I’m fine,” he managed to say past the humiliation clogging his throat.
    “Good.” Sergeant Passerella gave him a quick, but sincere professional smile. “When do I meet my troops, sir?” She shrugged lightly and color stained her cute little cheeks. “Trainees,” she amended.
    Still admiring the smile that did strange things to his insides, Tom forced himself to focus on her question. “The next group of kids won’t arrive for two weeks,” he told her distractedly. She had a hell of a smile for such a tiny thing.
    A line of annoyance formed between those lovely eyes. “Two weeks?” she echoed.
    “But we have a special session planned for the downtime,” he explained. “We’re conducting a trial weight loss and exercise program for Mrs. Suddath and eleven of her friends. It’s a special favor for the general. I couldn’t exactly turn him down,” Tom added when her expression fell.
    There was no mistaking the parade of emotions that marched across Sergeant Passerella’s face. The metamorphosis ran the gamut: disbelief, outrage.
    “Are you saying, sir, that I’ve been pulled from my regular military duty—official duty—to assist you in the operation of a fat farm? ”
    Tom thought about that for a moment. Surely there was a more politically correct way of putting it. No, he supposed there wasn’t. A smile tea sed his lips then. So, Sergeant Jane Passerella was just as surprised by her temporary assignment as he was by her tiny size.
    He allowed himself a full grin. This was rich. The general had hoodwinked them both. “Consider it a service to your country, Sergeant Passerella,” he suggested in a purposefully patronizing tone. She looked daggers at him. “Of course, if you don’t feel like you can handle the assignment, I’m sure General Suddath can find a suitable replacement in no time at all.”
    Their gazes locked, and something distinctly adversarial but vaguely sexual passed between them. Tom felt a completely unprofessional stir.
    “I can handle anything you throw my way, Mr. Caldwell,” she countered evenly.
    “In that case,” he surrendered, “welcome aboard, sergeant.”
    He stuck out his hand. Slowly, wari ly, she accepted the offer. His fingers wrapped around her much smaller ones. He shook her hand once, then quickly released it, but not before a surge of electricity jolted him. This was not a good sign.
    He shook off the feeling and nodded toward the group of cabins across the quadrangle. “You’ll find Reg in cabin one orienting our new guests. He’ll give you your cabin assignment and our official camp attire.”
    “Camp attire?”
    “We’ re pretty relaxed around here, sergeant, your camouflage uniform would be a distraction,” he told her, complimenting himself for the quick thinking.
    After a “yes, sir” and a snappy salute, one irate little sergeant strode out the door. Tom smiled. He couldn’t wait to see if Miss Jane Passerella was as cocky without her battle fatigues, sergeant’s stripes, and kick-ass combat boots. He had a feeling she would be.
    Well, he considered, at least he had