Lavinia Cole plastered a smile on her face as she looked out at the sea of soldiers awaiting her performance. She was dog tired, having found it impossible to sleep in a place others were actively bombing. Even under the shade of the canopy covering the stage, the heat was like a dry, heavy overcoat she couldn’t take off. If there were any justice in the universe, her intestines would recover from the incredible inedibles that passed for food here, but only time would tell about that. All in all, she was glad this was the last stop on the tour for her. She’d done her part and was ready to go home.

But for now, she had one more performance to complete. Hers was the opening for someone supposedly more famous but she’d never heard of the woman before they loaded the pair of them into one of those ubiquitous helicopters and that was that.

At home in New York, Vinnie played piano and belted out standards and show tunes for the denizens of the Starlight Room of the New Regis hotel in her hometown, New York City. As much as she could she recreated that act for the troop, given that she wore combat boots and fatigues rather than sequins and heels she preferred. The men in attendance didn’t seem to mind, since applause and catcalls greeted her walk toward center stage where a microphone in a stand awaited.

When the noise died down, Vinnie leaned into the mike. “How are you boys doing?” she asked.

The applause rose again along with a few shouts and whistles. Vinnie smiled. She knew her reputation probably preceded her. At 42 she was no spring chicken, but she had a decent body and a sultry way of belting out ballads most of these men were two young to remember. She didn’t mind pouring on the sex appeal for the benefit of the boys, for in her short stint touring she knew that whatever Iraq had been before or whatever one’s politics on the issues, war had turned the country into a hellhole neither side deserved to live in.

A few more innocuous comments, a remark or two about the weather and then she launched into a rendition of Fever. She usually sang the first song alone, but for other numbers she invited soldiers onstage with her, letting them sing with her or talk about themselves or their experiences here. It was all light and flirty and fun—what they told her the men needed. Everything upbeat, despite the fact more often than not distant fireplay could be heard over the sound of the band.

Today was different, slightly. It was some lieutenant’s birthday. She’d been asked to sing him happy birthday and cut a cake that would be served later in the mess. No one had pointed that soldier out to her, but she assumed it was one of the older guys who would prefer to have her rather than the younger woman singing to him.

Either way, it didn’t matter. She’d do her best to make the soldier feel as special on his big day as the circumstances allowed. She wrapped up her next two songs, The Way You Look Tonight, which became a tribute to the men and their uniforms the way she did it; followed by a bawdy rendition of I’ve Got You Under My Skin, which was all about the many places she now had an overabundance of sand.

As the applause died down, she waved for the men to quiet. “I have a special request for a Lt. Daniel Reid. Lt. Reid are you here?” Vinnie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out into the audience.

The men down in front shifted. One man was more pushed to his feet than rose to them on his own steam. He was dressed, like the others, in camouflage utilities, as the men called them, but even from that distance she could tell he was an officer. Even if she hadn’t learned the markings that distinguished an enlisted man from one of the upper ranks, she would have noticed it in his posture and the deference the other men showed him, even as they were pushing him toward the stage.

Well, she knew one thing now—it hadn’t been his idea to have his birthday celebrated in this way. Was it his superior’s way of embarrassing him or his men’s way of honoring him? Neither was her business. For her part, she’d rather get the spectacle over as painlessly as possible. But first she needed to get him on the stage.

“Come on, lieutenant,” she urged. “I’m not going to bite you. Not yet, anyway.”

The crowd responded to her teasing with a smattering of laughter and a few loud guffaws. But it didn’t speed the birthday boy toward her any faster. He took his time ascending the stairs and walking across the stage to meet her. With every step closer he came into sharper focus. She catalogued his attributes: broad muscular shoulders that tapered into trim waist and heavy thighs. His skin was bronzed a deep brown either naturally or by the desert sun, accentuating a handsome face with full lips and smoky brown eyes. Vinnie exhaled and one word slipped out that the microphone thankfully didn’t catch: damn.

He was gorgeous all right, but he wasn’t one of the older officers as she’d supposed. He was a baby, at least what she considered to be a baby. He couldn’t be older than his mid thirties.

Vinnie blinked, trying to get herself together. She was a mature woman who’d been married to a man twenty years her senior. Until Carl’s death last year, she’d been a devoted wife helping him through a long battle with cancer. She didn’t drool over younguns, no matter how biteable they might be.

Biteable. That word sprang into Vinnie’s mind but it was one of her cousin Alberta’s sayings. Al wouldn’t have a qualm about pouncing on a man she wanted, regardless of his age. It wasn’t that Al slept around, but once her gonads found someone that excited them she didn’t see the need for pussyfooting around. If Al were here, she’d say that’s what Vinnie’s problem was: she’d spent so much of her life focused on caring for someone else that she no longer knew how to care for her own needs. Maybe Al had the right of it, but Vinnie also knew that the very last thing Vinnie needed was to be having an existential crisis in the middle of a war zone.

That thought made Vinnie smile, for real this time. She’d definitely have to wait until she got home to have her breakdown. For now, she had a gorgeous soldier staring at her. “I hear congratulations are in order, lieutenant. They tell me it’s your birthday today.”

He nodded, even though she held the microphone in his direction for him to speak. It wasn’t a curt nod or one that suggested irritation, but one that said that if anyone were seeking an afternoon’s entertainment they wouldn’t be getting it from him. He put up with it because he felt obligated to, no more, no less.

Vinnie could appreciate his position. She didn’t care to be made a spectacle either. Despite her status as a performer, she only did that on her terms—where and when and how she chose. Early on in her career there had been a promoter or producer or two who’d tried to convince her to take her music more R&B or more jazzy or more whatever. She knew where her talent and her heart lay. Changing to please someone else would have been a mistake.

So she’d cut poor young Lieutenant Reid some slack and get this over with quickly. But there was one question she couldn’t get out of asking him. “And how old are you today, lieutenant?”

“Thirty-three.”

Damn. Even younger than she’d thought, but it figured. Any older and he’d have probably made it higher up the marine food chain already. “Thirty three?” she echoed. “I think I have underwear older than you.” The crowd laughed and applauded, but the birthday didn’t so much as crack a smile.

There were two enlisted men waiting in the wings to bring out a cake for him. She motioned them forward. “Then there’s only one thing left to say.” Once the men had positioned the cake in front of them she burst into her best rendition of Marilyn singing for John Kennedy, inserting lieutenant where Mr. President would have been.

On cue, he bent and blew out the candles. As expected, she braced a hand on his shoulder, leaned in and kissed his cheek. His hand rose to rest on her back, steadying her. Before pulling away she whispered, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His hand had risen to rest on her back. He said nothing, but his fingers on her back flexed.

She pulled away, eying him. Had that gesture been an attempt to flirt with her? Or was she reading more into the simple gesture. Had he noticed the tiny tremor that had shivered through her at his touch? If so, had he felt it, too? If he felt any attraction toward her, it didn’t show on his face, though there was a slight smile on his lips that hadn’t been there before. Maybe he just sensed her attraction and was amused by it. The old lady has the hots for you. Big yucks.

No matter. Vinnie took a step back as the enlisted men came back and removed the cake. She turned to the man beside her. “Thanks for being such a good sport.” To the audience she said, “Let’s have a hand for Lt. Reid.” The men clapped and hooted as the officer left the stage. But rather than retaking his seat, he headed off in the direction of what she knew to be the mess hall. Whatever. Her job for the moment was almost done. One more song and she made her exit to be replaced by her younger, perkier counterpart.

That was fine with Vinnie. She went back to the room, combed her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and removed most of her make-up. What she wore onstage was way too much for ordinary consumption, and it would be dinnertime soon.

Usually she’d rather skip a meal than indulge in the unpalatable. But tonight she was looking forward to it. She tried to tell herself that anticipation had nothing to do with seeing the lieutenant again. She wasn’t quite buying it though. The hunger she felt at the moment had nothing to do with food but for the sort of carnal pleasure she hadn’t known in quite some time.

That in itself was shocking. This past year, she’d been sleepwalking through life much more than being in mourning like she claimed. Without Carl she’d felt lost, unanchored. He’d been her rock, even though she’d spent the last few years before his death helping him battle cancer. She couldn’t remember the last time the sight of a handsome man had stirred her in the least. If nothing else, her little encounter with the marine proved the old Vinnie was still in there somewhere. She wasn’t dead inside yet.

Vinnie walked across the compound with a smile on her face, but when she got to the mess the lieutenant was nowhere to be found. It was probably just as well. One of the older officers invited her to sit at his table. She went along gladly. In the morning she and the rest of the USO tour went back to the States.