Free One Man's War by Lindsay McKenna

And he didn’t. He was wearing a bright Hawaiian-print shirt with red, blue and yellow tropical flowers, a set of loose khaki slacks and dark brown loafers—a far cry from his uniform. His smile was very confident. Very male.
    â€œYeah, I clean up pretty good when I want to.” He reached over and barely grazed her flaming cheek. “But, honey, so do you. Man, you are a knockout. Those boys over at the O club are gonna drool all over themselves when they see you come in on my arm.”
    * * *
    â€œSo what do you see in living in Third World countries?” Pete wanted to know over dessert much later at the O club. He’d paid the Vietnamese waitress to put them in a corner where conversation and privacy were possible. Everywhere else in the dining room of the club—a large tent with a plywood floor—groups of various men, mostly marine officers, filled the tables. Pete was the only one with a woman—and an American, at that.
    Tess sipped the hot coffee, holding the gold-rimmed china cup in her slender fingers. “As John Kennedy said before he was assassinated, we can all make a difference, remember? I liked his concept of the Peace Corps, and his commitment to the world at large. What about you? What made you join the Marine Corps?”
    Pete always got edgy when the conversation went back to him. “You know—the image.”
    â€œCome on,” Tess said, hooting, “give me the truth, Pete. You’re evading me—again.”
    â€œWell...maybe. I received a degree in aerodynamic engineering, and I wanted to fly. After officer’s candidate school, I went to Pensacola, Florida, to try and win my wings, and I did. Helicopters fascinate me.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou can do so much more with them than you can a fixed-wing aircraft.” He used his hands to show her. “You can get that bird to stand on its nose if necessary, to squeeze into some tight places. I like the versatility of the chopper.”
    â€œAnd the marines? Why them? You could have joined the army.”
    â€œThe doggy army?” He groaned. “No way, honey.”
    â€œI know Gib joined the corps because our dad was a marine. It was a family tradition.” She skipped lightly over the family matter, never forgetting Pete’s explosive and negative response about his mother. “What made you choose the marines?”
    He eyed her. “You don’t give up, do you? When you want something, you just keep chipping away until you get it.”
    It was her turn to grin. “I’m like a bulldog, Pete.”
    â€œNo argument from me. The reason I liked the marines was their pride and esprit de corps. It was like a tight-knit family, I guess.” He frowned and moved the fork absently around on the white linen tablecloth in front of him. “To tell you the truth, I grew up having no pride in anything. All my friends had families...parents...a mother and father who were proud they were in college, or at the naval flight facility in Pensacola getting their wings...crap like that. I had no one who cared about what I was or wasn’t doing, so I wanted to join something that had an inbred pride. Just being a marine was a big deal. It made people stop and look at me with respect. They knew I was someone special because I’d made it through boot camp and all.” He snorted and glanced up at Tess. “Sounds corny now that I’ve said it.”
    â€œNo,” Tess offered gently, “it sounds fine. With your background, you could’ve turned out a lot different. Maybe a lot worse, you know.”
    He gave her a curious look. “Why is it when I get around you, I become a bleeding-heart liberal baring my dark, hopeless soul?”
    â€œGib always said I was a good shoulder to cry on. Maybe that’s why. And you’re far from hopeless.”
    He ignored her comment. “What about you, Tess?” He waved the fork in her direction,