Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

“Liebchen,” Trudi whispered fiercely, “there’s someone at the door.”

Peter opened his eyes and looked around the room, as if wondering where he was.

“Liebchen,” Trudi whispered again, “there’s someone at the door.”

He looked at Trudi. She was supporting herself on an elbow, which served to put her left nipple about six inches from his eye.

Oh, God!

“There’s someone at the door,” Trudi hissed a third time.

With a tremendous effort, Peter pushed his torso off the bed. “What is it?” he called as loudly as he could, which was not very loud, as the inside of his mouth was absolutely dry.

“Ruttman, Herr Major,” a male voice responded, “the Herr General’s orderly.”

“What is it?” Peter demanded.

“I am to drive the young lady into Augsburg, Herr Major.”

“Wait downstairs,” Peter ordered.

“Jawohl, Herr Major.”

“You were really sleeping, Liebchen,” Trudi said.

“Liebchen”? Oh, my God!

“How much did I have to drink last night?”

“Not very much,” Trudi said. “Do you feel bad?” She ran her fingers across his forehead.

Not very much? The way I feel? That’s absurd.

But enough obviously to bring Trudi up here.

“Poor Liebchen,” Trudi said.

Oh, my God, and Boltitz is coming this morning!

Was I out of my mind, to get drunk?

He let himself fall back against the bed.

Trudi looked down at him, smiled, and ran the tips of her fingers over his chest. And then lower. “And how is he this morning?” she asked naughtily.

“I suspect he’s out of service,” Peter said.

I don’t even remember bringing her up here, much less anything about what obviously happened last night.

The last thing I remember is standing at the bar, arguing with Oberstleutnant Henderver about the best way to fight a Mustang.

What happened after that?

“He doesn’t act as if he’s out of service,” Trudi said as she manipulated him.

“Trudi, I’ve got to get up and have a shower and get dressed.”

“Oh, really?”