“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.”

“Getting a CO like Dan on your side is what you need. Some people call it an unfair advantage. I say that if you’re lucky enough to find one of the few men in the U.S. Army who couldn’t care less if you were a woman or a flamingo—and they do exist; the French are much less concerned about women at the front—then use it. Besides,” Martha added, “he’s very easy on the eye.”

“Easy on the eye!” Jess exploded. “I think being a jerk precludes anyone from being attractive.”

Marty laughed. “Not Warren. Your Major Hallworth. And we all need a little love—or bodily comfort—in the midst of war.”

Bodily comfort. It was what she’d craved that night in Italy. But Jessica May could stand on her own two feet; witnessing war broke her heart enough without needing to involve herself with a man again. She shook her head firmly. “He’s not my major. He’s just proven himself a friend. And I’m going to need a few of those if I want to last more than a month over here.”

* * *

As much as she wanted to, on the day she was due to leave for Italy, Jess wasn’t able to avoid Warren Stone. He met her in the lobby at six in the morning and she tried to deflect anything he might say or do with an apology.

“I’m sorry about your promotion,” she said honestly. “If I can speak to somebody to let them know that, as much as it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t your fault either, then I will.”

As soon as she said it she knew she’d made a huge mistake. His face contorted, at first surprised, and then anger flared, covering up what might have been embarrassment, or indeed humiliation. Of course he wouldn’t want a woman to know of his failures, or for that same woman to then hurtle in and offer assistance in rectifying them.

“I don’t need help from a model,” he said slowly.

“I know,” she said quickly, wanting to leave.

“Go to Italy,” he said suddenly. “And just so you know, I didn’t lose. I let you stay. It’ll be more fun to watch you leave in disgrace later, just when you think you’ve settled in.”

“I don’t intend to do anything disgraceful.” Jess drew herself up to modelish height, despite knowing that the best course of action would be to collect her bags and go.

“I read over the War Department’s screening notes. You won’t be able to help yourself.”

“Nothing in those notes was true.”

He laughed. “Well, that’s a shame. Because I may have drunk a little too much last night and my loose tongue may have let a few details about your fondness for bedtime activities slip to some of the other correspondents.” And then, before she was able to let the full blaze of her fury unleash itself upon Warren Stone, his demeanor changed and he began to recite, blandly, a list of rules. “Gal reporters must never put themselves closer to the front than the nurses in the field.”