Several video chats and conference calls with Gary occurred before they identified the glitch and had things up and running again. This latest update was the third since implementation nearly six months ago. The others had gone off without a hitch, but this time she couldn’t pinpoint the issue on her own. And she was very much on her own. Gary had recovered, but he never joined her on the base. After proving herself early on, both he and Director Forester decide she didn’t need him.

This time it was something beyond her control, a coding error in the new LITSABR simulation which was the Navy’s new Star Wars type multi-venue laser scattering technology. In layman’s terms, it identified laser threats before they could lock onto a target—on sea, land, or air.

With the program back online, Cassie ran through it successfully at least a half-dozen times, but she wanted to test it further before the next training class. She contacted the captain and asked for volunteers, creating an evaluation and issues form for feedback.

Over a dozen instructors signed up, all of them needing time with the new weapon’s system to become proficient before their students got a shot at it. Because of their rigorous schedules, which included early morning and late-night dive training, and the twenty-hour days common during hell week, not to mention the other classes and various drills, she left the lab open 24/7 to get them all in.

The Tuesday before class, she arrived earlier than her regular start time and wasn’t at all surprised to see three stations occupied. The control room lights were off when she entered, so she took the chance to sit back and watch their performances on-screen.

She noticed right off, one man needed a lot more hours in the simulator. The second was putting on a good show, his percentage of neutralized targets high and his collateral damage minimal, but the third, engaged in an urban assault mission, was off the charts accurate. In fact, she’d never seen scores that high before. The first man, a young lieutenant, failed his mission and stomped out while muttering to himself in frustration, while the second, earning a respectable score, hung around to watch as the one remaining put on a show.

With bated breath, she did as well, seeing him take out one insurgent after another. He spared the robed cleric who unexpectedly popped out of an unmarked building and the Burka-shrouded woman who came running from the market.

Wanting to see how much he could handle, Cassie punched a code into the system override and upped the difficulty on his simulation. Targets and civilians came at him faster now, snipers appeared on rooftops, and IEDs exploded in the street. The computer even created a nondescript van which drove up in front of a crowded shop. The SEAL at the controls recognized the threat and took out the enemy, no less than a dozen armed men, as they emerged from the vehicle, and he did so without a single civilian casualty. And, he identified the sniper on a rooftop armed with a laser rifle, activated his LITSABR without hesitation, and neutralized him too.

Cassie was impressed. So much so when the simulation ended, she turned up the lights and rushed to congratulate him.

She was rounding the platform on which he stood when he pulled off his headgear. It was Flynn. Thrilled for his success, she squealed, “HOOAH!” and while bouncing with excitement, threw her arms around him in congratulations.

“That was fah-reaking awesome!” she gushed. “I’ve never had anyone score 99.8 percent on that urban sequence before, and you implemented the new laser scatter perfectly. You are not human, my man!”

“Maybe you need to teach the class, Dalton,” the other instructor joked, “rather than Miss Barely Legal - Legally Blonde here.”

His comment quashed her enthusiasm in a blink. She’d heard the comparison many times. Reese Witherspoon’s pint-sized pixie-like character may have made it into Harvard Law School, but Cassie’s IQ was much higher, as was her cup size. It would have ticked her off most days, and today was no exception. Dropping her arms from around Flynn, she spun on Lieutenant Avery Meyers.

While twirling a loose curl around her finger, she spoke in a ditzy airhead accent that couldn’t be mistaken. “Oh my God, Lieutenant, you’re like totally right.” Then she leaned in, continuing with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Here’s the thing, though. I’m not eighteen, not even close. I graduated from high school a long time ago, got my undergrad, and earned a master’s degree in computer science, which means I’m not a dumb blonde and am a helluva long way past barely legal. It also makes you a complete bonehead.”

She stomped away, too mad to see straight. Out in the hall, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath to get a grip on her anger.

“Nice work, Meyers, you putz.” She heard Flynn say with disgust.

“I didn’t know she’d be so sensitive. With an ass like that and a name like Hardwick, which most of the men change to Hard-dick—something they all have while around her—you’d think she’d have thicker skin.”

A loud crash and a thud followed, then the Commander’s angry growl resonated through the room and out into the hallway. “Shut your mouth. She’s a nice girl and doesn’t need to be subjected to your crude attempts at humor. You got me, Meyers?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“She’s a sweet kid. And close or not, no woman needs to hear your brand of bullshit.”

“Right.” To Cassie, the Lieutenant’s voice sounded strained and raspy, like he was choking. “I said I’m sorry.”

Another thud and coughing, preceded boots thumping against the rubber mat on the floor. She pictured Flynn stalking across the room, which was Cassie’s cue to leave. She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, especially by the commander. As she rushed down the hall, tears burned her eyes, having heard “kid”, well intended or not, yet again from his lips. The image of a freckled face, braces-wearing, tagalong little sister flashed in her head. He’d come to her defense with the jerk, but that’s the kind of man he was, as an officer, a gentleman, and in her case evidently, a protective big brother.

Footsteps drawing closer sent her into a panic. She took the nearest escape route, ducking into a janitor’s closet. She stared at the knob without a lock and prayed it wouldn’t turn at the sound of him calling her name. When she heard his footsteps pause out in the hall, close, as though right outside the door, she held her breath, not daring to move an inch.

“Cassie!” His raised voice faded as he moved on. “Damn. She’s not in the control room. She’s left.”

“I’ll apologize next chance I get, Commander.”

“You’ll do it today, at lunch,” Flynn snapped back.

“Yes, sir. I can do that too,” Meyers agreed in a rush.

She heard a grunt which she recognized as Flynn being irritated, then a muttered, “Damn insensitive putz,” and the footsteps faded.

When the door to the lab opened and closed twice a few moments later, she slumped against the wall. To make sure they were gone, she lingered in her dark, stuffy, hiding spot, taking the time to regain her composure. She couldn’t deal with anyone, especially Flynn if he should come back, seeing the proof of her broken heart trailing down her cheeks.

That evening, after one of the longest days at work ever, she went to see Jules who always made her laugh and would help put things in perspective. It helped that her friend never failed to have a chilled bottle of wine at the ready, or even better, tequila and limes.

When she opened the door and saw Cassie’s expression, she grabbed her hand and hauled her inside declaring, “I know that sad face. It calls for shooters, stat!”

Jules sat her down at the bar in her kitchen, lined up lime wedges, the salt shaker, and two shot glasses which she filled almost to the brim with silver label Jose Cuervo. After they both tossed one back, she leaned her forearms on the counter while she grabbed both of Cassie’s hands. “Tell me all about it.”

“I need a change: a makeover, a new wardrobe, a hot new romance, something. I’m in a rut and have been since grad school.”

“That’s why you’re crying? Because you need a makeover? Bull crap!”

“Yes, it’s more than that.” She paused long enough to throw back her other shot before continuing. “I’ve realized something I hoped would happen for a while, won’t—ever. No matter how much I want it to.”

“It’s a man,” she guessed. “Who is it?”

“No one you know. He’s a friend. And that’s the problem because that’s all he wants to be.”

“Oh, honey... But you’re right, you need a hot new romance. There’s no better way to get over one dumbass man, than with another.”

Cassie’s eyes shot to her friend, and she giggled, or the tequila made her do so.

“That didn’t come out right.” Jules laughed as she poured another round. “I meant you need a different man, a better one.”

Her heart sank; she doubted there was a better one out there than Flynn.

“Come with Colt and me to our club this weekend.”

“I can’t afford your club. I don’t know how you do.”

“The managing partner is an ex-SEAL who gives frogmen special rates. But you don’t have to worry about paying anything, not even a cover charge at the bar. They’re having a membership mixer this weekend. Potential members get in free. You can meet new people, scope out potential play partners, and tour the facility. If you hit it off with a wealthy Dom—of which there are many—he can and will take care of your fees for you.”

Cassie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. It sounds like a big pickup party and trading my submission for membership fees seems a little whorish if you ask me.”

“This is not like the meat markets you’ve been to in the past, Cass. The clientele is very different, classier and without all the leering jerks and posers. They have intense security screenings and won’t accept just anybody.”

“What makes you sure they’ll accept me? Clearly, I’m nothing special.”

She stopped and stared at her a moment, a shadow of anger sweeping across her face as her hands came to her hips. “Who did this to you? I’ll have Colt tear him a new one.”

Her friend’s husband was big though not nearly as tall and muscular as Flynn. He was a few years younger than the Commander, but she’d still bet against her longtime friend in a head-to-head matchup.

“I don’t know if I want to try the club scene again.” She’d done it before and come up empty.

“Decadence LA isn’t like anything you’ve experienced before. I promise. Come with us this once, and if you don’t like what you see, we’ll think of something else.”

What else was there? Online dating? Was she that desperate?

Unfortunately, she didn’t like the answer to her question.

She sighed. Even though she vowed never to settle—and anything less than Commander Flynn Dalton was definitely settling—she was facing her thirties alone and unfulfilled. Perhaps she needed to expand her horizons and not limit herself to a long-term commitment. Maybe a happily ever after wasn’t part of her destiny, and the best she could expect was happy for now.

Although a daunting way to jumpstart her non-existent social life, what would it hurt to visit the exclusive club her friends always raved about? And, since there appeared to be no hope for her and Flynn, she needed something in her life other than work.

“What’s involved in this membership mixer?”

Jules’ brows shot up in surprise. “It’s a costume event and should be a lot of fun.”

That sparked her interest; she loved dressing up. But her heart wasn’t in it. “I’ll think about it.”

“Which in Cassie-speak means no. Stop dragging your feet. You’re not getting any younger, ya know.”

“Gee, thanks. After being called barely legal a few hours ago, I don’t know whether to be flattered that you think I’m old, or crushed.”

“What jerk said that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does so matter! I want a name. I’ll give it to Colt, and he’ll straighten his sorry ass out. He considers you family and worries about you, like a sister.”

“Please, no…” she groaned. That’s all she needed, trouble at work, as well as in her personal life. “What the guy said wasn’t all that bad. The age jokes have always rubbed me the wrong way that’s all. Besides, he said I had a great ass. How can I be offended by that?”

This defused her anger somewhat. Jules pushed one shot glass in front of her and raised the other. “We should drink to your ass, which is phenomenal, and that’s me who’s straight as an arrow saying it.”

She licked salt off her hand, tossed it back, and sucked on a lime wedge, but afterward only smiled half-heartedly. “I know I need to get out more and think about other things besides work. The only people I meet now are Navy men. Yes, they’re hot, seriously built, and have all the alpha traits that make a girl’s panties damp. But other than the instructors, whom I have to work with, they come in through a revolving door, do their grueling training stint, then head off to the other side of the world. I steer clear. Keeping the home fires burning is not a life I want.”

“I sure am glad it’s not mine anymore,” Jules agreed, understanding better than anyone, having lived it with Colt for almost a decade. Cassie remembered many frantic phone calls when the nightly news reported an escalation of violence and that special forces were sent in to settle things, take out a radical group, or repel into a compound and take out a terrorist leader. Thankfully, he was home, healthy, and for the first time since they got married, living on the same continent, year-round.

She frowned suddenly, thinking how Colt and Flynn were a lot alike. Bossy, protective, authoritative Navy men, they seemed cut from the same cloth. Maybe too much so.

“You said the club owner was retired Navy. Are there any non-military Doms at your club?”

“Why wouldn’t you want a military man? Lean, fit, perfection in a uniform—especially their summer whites.” She laid one hand on her chest and fanned herself with the other. “They’ll make you do more than stand at attention and salute. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Maybe I need a break from all that.” And someone who doesn’t remind her of Flynn.

“The club has members from all walks of life, although quite a few are former servicemen and some active duty. If you want to steer clear, we can have Colt point them out.”

“Active duty! What if I run into someone I know?”

“Los Alamitos, NWS in Long Beach, LA Air Force Base, and Camp Pendleton, I could go on. Coronado isn’t the only base in California. I think we’re two of the few crazies who drive over two hours to get the chance to play.”

She didn’t find that reassuring. Most people in the lifestyle were dedicated to it, and two hours didn’t seem like much of a barrier to keep them away.

“Come on. You’ll be in costume. Slap on some makeup, a wig, and a mask, and no one will have a clue who you are.”

She bit her lip, still not sold. “If I agree, what do I have to do to get in, sign a contract in blood, or give up my firstborn?”

Jules rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. There’s a simple guest application and a confidentiality agreement. If you want to play, medical clearance is required. I’ll have Colt get the ball rolling.”

“I haven’t said yes yet!”

“You will because I’ll wear you down.” She laughed in the face of her scowl. “Don’t worry. We won’t abandon you to the wolves your first time there.” A wicked glint appeared in her eyes the next moment. “I can’t promise a handsome Dom won’t like your scent and demand a taste. That’s a different scenario and will be solely up to you.”

An image of a hungry, salivating, big bad wolf stalking Red Riding Hood popped into her head. No! her rational mind screamed, but she said, “I’ll give it some thought.”

As she reached for the bottle and refilled their glasses, sliding another lime wedge and the salt shaker her way, Jules shook her head. “Here, maybe communing more with Jose will help convince you to give it a try.”

Using what they learned back at USC, they licked, shot, and sucked lime, finishing by slamming their empty glasses upside down on the counter. Then, after the grimacing and shuddering had passed, their eyes met. And, also like in college, the two girls burst into a fit of giggles.