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I tuned him out, sliding back against the peeling leather. Frankie Fiero was always on the prowl. It was exhausting to listen to him sometimes. Discreet he was not. I preferred not to talk about the women I hooked up with. It was all about respect. We were two consenting adults, living in the moment, and that was that. Frankie, on the other hand, seemed to need validation for his “conquests.”

“Found one for you, Fiero.” Gonzo nodded toward a petite dark-haired woman in a tight jean skirt. “She’s been looking your way since she got here.”

Fiero downed his beer and set it on the table with a clunk, his dark eyes intent on the woman.

“I thought you already had a date,” I quipped.

“She’s not here yet and I’m bored.” Fiero slid his fingers over his thick, dark eyebrows and then went off with a determined stride toward the woman.

“All right, how about you, Jazz Hands?” asked Ahlstrom.

“I think he’s already gone through all the ladies here,” laughed Gonzo. He’d been on base as long as I had and knew me well. Just then the door opened and a group of women came in. “Ah, here we go. Which one do you like, Jazz?”

Ahlstrom snorted. “He’s not discerning. Anything will do, right? Even that one.”

I frowned at him. At nineteen, he was still a dumb kid when it came to women. “Women are like fine wine, Joe. There are endless varieties and you’re missing out because you limit yourself to only one kind.”

“Okay, then. Go talk to her.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, she’s already with someone.” I nodded my head toward the woman in question, a curvy brunette with an infectious laugh and a mischievous expression. If the kid was too superficial to appreciate all the possibilities hidden in that gaze, well then he didn’t deserve it. The woman’s date, an Italian officer I’d seen here before draped his hand over her shoulders. He, at least, had taste.

Gonzo went back to searching the crowd while I nursed my beer, distracted, not wanting to go back to the dark place I’d been in earlier, but feeling its shadows creeping up on the edges of my mind. Then Ahlstom elbowed me. “Damn. I found one for you, Jazz Hands. She likes to dance too.”

I followed his line of vision to the group of women near the bar. They were hopping around, hands in the air, dancing to Boney M. A flash of auburn hair caught my attention. It cascaded in silky waves over the creamy skin of her naked back visible thanks to the plunging silk halter. Her magnificent hair fell just above what I can only describe as the most perfect heart-shaped ass I’d ever seen. My whole body hardened as I watched her dance. And damn she could dance. I drained the rest of my beer and stood determined to get a closer look.

“Ha ha!” Ahlstrom laughed wickedly. “What did I tell you? I knew she was the one for you.”

“Don’t go getting all poetic on me there. But you’re right, she just might be the one for tonight.”

As the redhead made her way to the bar, I followed, the blue and red disco lights flashing overhead like I had her in my sights. Three, two, one. I could hear the strident sound of radar locking in its target.

“Un’altra pinta, per favore,” the redhead said in a perfect Italian accent as she leaned over the bar. A thin gold bracelet encircled her delicate wrist, a sharp contrast to her unpainted nails that looked like they’d been filed down to the nailbed.

“Due, per favore.” I leaned over her and handed the bartender some money. “Mi permetta, signorina.”

Then it was like everything happened in slow motion. She turned around, and my heart stopped beating as I took in the constellation of freckles on a slim nose, the lush mouth, and those liquid amber eyes that I’d spent so many summers staring into. Light brown, just like her brother’s.

It was like seeing a ghost.

“Indy?” I whispered.

Chapter 4

Diana

“Levi?” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. Was I dreaming or had I indulged in one too many drinks?

But no, it was Levi in the flesh, looming over me, dark blond hair swept back from his face, cleft chin under a layer of stubble like he’d forgotten to shave that morning. His sky-colored eyes wide as saucers as he stared back at me. I was shocked and not shocked at the same time. After all, I knew he was stationed at Aviano. I carried his phone number crumpled in a ball in my coin purse. It was inevitable that we’d eventually run into each other.

And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined this moment a thousand times.

“H-how . . . Wh-what are you doing here?” he stuttered.

“I’m meeting someone . . . a date . . . kind of . . .” I was rambling now, unable to tear my eyes away from his mouth. The Levi I remembered was always laughing or smiling despite the edge of sadness he always seemed to carry around with him. Now his lips were tight with tension.

He shook his head. “No . . . I mean . . . what are you doing here? In Italy.”

“Digging,” I answered stupidly as if it summed up the past decade of my life. How could I explain to him everything that had happened since he’d disappeared? I’d done it in my letters that I wrote and never sent. Poured out my heart, my grief, my anger . . . and now standing in front of him, I had nothing to say to this familiar stranger who was staring at me like I was a ghost.