Blogger Bundle Volume VIII: SBTB's Harlequins That Hooked You

by Jennifer Crusie

“I’m an unmarried woman, Lieutenant,” Veronica interrupted. “Regardless of what you intended, it is not in my best interests to take a nap in any man’s bed.”

  Joe laughed. “I think maybe you’re overreacting just a teeny little bit. This isn’t the 1890s. I don’t see how your reputation could be tarnished simply from napping in my bed. If I were in there with you, it’d be an entirely different matter. But if you want to know the truth, I’d be willing to bet no one even noticed where you were sleeping this morning, or even that you were asleep. And if they did, that’s their problem.”

  “No, it’s my problem,” Veronica said sharply, her temper flaring. “Tell me, Lieutenant, are there many women in the SEALs?”

  “No,” Joe said. “There’re none. We don’t allow women in the units.”

  “Aha,” Veronica retorted. “In other words, you’re not familiar with sexual discrimination, because your organization is based on sexual discrimination. That’s just perfect.”

  “Look, if you want to preach feminism, fine,” Joe said, his patience disintegrating, “but do me a favor—hand me a pamphlet to read on the subject and be done with it. Right now, I’m going to take a shower.”

  By now they had the full, unconcealed attention of the three other SEALs and the FInCOM agents, but Veronica was long past caring. She was angry—angry that he had let her sleep, angry that he was so macho, angry that he had kissed her—and particularly angry that she had liked his kiss so damn much.

  She blocked Joe’s way, stabbing at his broad chest with one finger. “Don’t you dare run away from me, Lieutenant,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “You’re operating in my world now, and I will not have you jeopardizing my career through your own stupid ignorance.”

  He flinched as if she’d slapped him in the face and turned away, but not before she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. Hurt that was rapidly replaced by anger.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Joe said through clenched teeth. “I was only trying to be nice. I thought sleeping on the couch would screw up your back, but forget it. From now on, I won’t bother, okay? From now on, we’ll go by the book.”

  He pushed past her and went into the locker room. The FInCOM agents and the three other SEALs followed, leaving Veronica alone in the exercise room. Her reflection gazed back at her from all angles.

  Perfect. She’d handled that just perfectly.

  Veronica had come down here to find out why he’d let her sleep so long, and wound up in a fierce argument about sexual discrimination and her pristine reputation. That wasn’t the real issue at all. It had just been something to shout about, because Lord knew she couldn’t walk up to him and shout that his kiss had turned her entire world upside down and now she was totally, utterly and quite thoroughly off-balance.

  Instead, she had called him names. Stupid. Ignorant. Words that had clearly cut deep, despite the fact that he was anything but stupid and far from ignorant.

  What Veronica had done was take out all her anger and frustration on the man.

  But if anyone was to blame here, it was herself. After all, she was the one foolish enough to have fallen asleep in the first place.

  “Hey, Cat!” Cowboy called loudly as he showered in the locker room. “Tell me more about fair Veronica ‘Sinjin.”’

  “There’s nothing to tell,” Joe answered evenly. He glanced up to find Blue watching him.

  Damn. Blue could read his mind. Joe’s connection to Blue was so tight, there were few thoughts that appeared in Joe’s head that Blue wasn’t instantly aware of. But what would Blue make of the thoughts Joe was having right now? What would he make of the sick, nauseous feeling Joe had in the pit of his stomach?

  Stupid. Ignorant.

  Well, that about summed it all up, didn’t it? Joe certainly knew now exactly what Veronica St. John thought of him, didn’t he? He certainly knew why she’d thought that kiss was a mistake.

  Cowboy shut off the water. Dripping, he came out of the stall and into the room. “You sure there’s nothing you can tell us about Veronica, Cat? Oh, come on, buddy, I can think of a thing or two,” he said, taking a towel from a pile of clean ones and giving himself a perfunctory swipe. “Like, are you and she doing the nightly naked two-step?”

  “No,” Joe replied flatly, pulling on his pants.

  “You planning on it?” Cowboy asked. He slipped into one of the plush hotel robes that were hanging on the wall.

  “Back off, Jones,” Blue said warningly.

  “No.” Joe answered Cowboy tersely as he yanked his T-shirt over his head and thrust his arms into the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Cool,” Cowboy said. “Then you don’t mind if I give her a try—”

  Joe spun and grabbed the younger man by the lapels of his robe, slamming him up against a row of metal lockers with a crash. “Stay the hell away from her,” he snapped. He let go of Cowboy, and turned to include Blue and Harvard in his glare. “All of you. Is that clear?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The noise echoed as Cowboy stared at Harvard and Blue.

  “Shoot,” he finally said. “Anybody have any idea what the hell’s going on?”

  9

  Room service arrived at the royal suite before Joe did.

  “Set it out on the table, please,” Veronica instructed the waiter.

  She’d ordered a full-course meal, from appetizers to dessert, complete with three different wines.

  This afternoon’s lesson was food—or more precisely, eating food. There was a hundred-dollar-a-plate charity luncheon in Boston, Massachusetts, that had been left on the prince’s tour schedule. Both the location and the visibility of the event were right for a possible assassination attempt, but it was more than a hi-and-bye appearance. It would involve more than Joe’s ability to stand and wave as if he were Prince Tedric.

  The hotel-suite door opened, and Joe came inside, followed by three FInCOM agents. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his T-shirt underneath, and he met Veronica’s eyes only briefly before turning to the laden dining table. It was quite clear that he was still upset with her.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “This is practice for the Boston charity luncheon,” Veronica replied. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  Joe stared at the table. It was loaded with dishes covered with plate-warmers. It was set for two, with a full array of cutlery and three different wineglasses at each setting. What, didn’t Miss High-and-Mighty think he knew how to eat with a fork? Didn’t she know he dined with admirals and four-star generals at the Officers’ Club?

  Stupid. Ignorant.

  Joe nodded slowly, wishing he was still pissed off, wishing he was still nursing the slow burn he’d felt upstairs in the exercise room. But he wasn’t. He was too tired to be angry now. He was too tired to feel anything but disappointment and hurt. Damn, it made him feel so vulnerable.

  The room-service waiter was standing next to the table, looking down his snotty nose at Joe’s unbuttoned shirt. Gee, maybe the waiter and Veronica had had a good laugh about Joe before he’d arrived.

  “This is unnecessary,” he said, turning back to look at Veronica. Man, she looked pretty in that blue dress. Her hair was tied back with some kind of ribbon, and— Forget about her, he told himself harshly. She was just some rich girl who’d made it more than clear that they lived in two different worlds, and there was no crossing the border. He was stupid and ignorant, and kissing him had been a mistake. “Believe it or not, I already know which fork is for the salad and which fork is for the dessert. It might come as a shock to you, but I also know how to use a napkin and drink from a glass.”

  Veronica actually looked surprised, her blue eyes growing even wider. “Oh,” she said. “No. No, I knew that. That’s not what this is.” She let a nervous laugh escape. “You actually thought I thought I’d need to teach you how to eat?”

  Joe was not amused. “Yeah.”

/>   My God, he was serious. He was standing there, his powerful arms folded across his broad chest, staring at her with those mystifying dark eyes. Veronica remembered that flash of hurt in Joe’s eyes when they’d argued in the exercise room. What had she said? She’d called him stupid and ignorant. Oh, Lord. She still couldn’t believe those words had come out of her mouth.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  “I owe you an apology,” Veronica explained. “I was very angry this afternoon, and I said some things I didn’t mean. The truth is, I was frustrated and angry with myself. I was the one who fell asleep. It was all my fault, and I tried to take it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I am sorry.”

  Joe looked at the waiter and then at the FInCOM agents who were sitting on the sofa, listening to every word. He crossed to the door and opened it invitingly. “You guys mind stepping outside for a sec?”

  The FInCOM agents looked at each other and shrugged. Rising to their feet, they crossed to the door and filed out into the corridor. Joe turned to the waiter. “You, too, pal.” He gestured toward the open door. “Take a hike.”

  He waited until the waiter was outside, then closed the door tightly and crossed back to Veronica. “You know, these guys will give you privacy if you ask for it,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know,” she said. She lifted her chin slightly, steadily meeting his gaze. “It’s just…I was rude to you in public, I felt I should apologize to you in public, too.”

  Joe nodded, too. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. That sounds fair.” He looked at her, and there was something very close to admiration in his eyes. “That sounds really fair.”

  Veronica felt her own eyes flood with tears. Oh, damn, she was going to cry. If she started to cry, she was going to feel once more just how gentle Joe’s hard-as-steel arms could be. And Lord, she didn’t want to be reminded of that. “I am sorry,” she said, blinking back the tears.

  Oh, damn, Veronica was going to cry, Joe thought as he took a step toward her, then stopped himself. No, she was trying hard to hide it. It was better if he played along, if he pretended he didn’t notice. But, man, the sight of those blue eyes swimming in tears made his chest ache, reminding him of this morning, when he’d held her in his arms. Reminding him of that unbelievable kiss…

  Veronica forced a smile and held out her hand to him. “Still friends?” she asked.

  Friends, huh? Joe had never had a friend before that he wanted to pull into his arms and kiss the living daylights out of. As he gazed into her eyes, the attraction between them seemed to crackle and snap, like some living thing.

  Veronica was okay. She was a decent person—the fact that she’d apologized proved that. But she came from miles on the other side of the railroad tracks. If their relationship became intimate, she’d still be slumming. And he’d be…

  He’d be dreaming about her every night for the rest of his life.

  Joe let go of Veronica’s hand as if he’d been stung. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where had that thought come from…?

  “Are you all right?” The concern in her eyes was genuine.

  Joe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I’m… After we do this dining thing, I’m going to take another short nap.”

  “A three-minute nap this time?” Veronica asked. “Or maybe you’ll splurge, and sleep for five whole minutes…?”

  Joe smiled, and she gave him an answering smile. Their gazes met and held. And held and held and held.

  With another woman, Joe would have closed the gap between them. With another woman, Joe would have taken two short steps and brought them face to face. He would have brushed those stray flame-colored curls from the side of her beautiful face, then lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to meet hers.

  He had tasted her lips before. He knew how amazing kissing Veronica could be.

  But she wasn’t another woman. She was Veronica St. John. And she’d already made it clear that sex wasn’t on their agenda. Hell, if a kiss was a mistake, then making love would be an error of unbelievable magnitude. And the truth was, Joe didn’t want to face that kind of rejection.

  So Joe didn’t move. He just gazed at her.

  “Well,” she said, slightly breathlessly, “perhaps we should get to work.”

  But she didn’t cross toward the dining table, she just gazed up at him, as if she, too, were caught in some kind of force field and unable to move.

  Veronica was beautiful. And rich. And smart. But more than just book smart. She was people smart, too. Joe had seen her manipulate a tableful of high-ranking officials. She couldn’t have done that on an Ivy League diploma alone.

  He didn’t know the first thing about her, Joe realized. He didn’t know where she came from, or how she’d gotten here, to Washington, D.C. He didn’t know how she’d come to work for the crown prince of Ustanzia. He didn’t know why she’d remained, even after the assassination attempt, when most civilians would have headed for the hills and safety.

  “What’s your angle?” Joe asked.

  Veronica blinked. “Excuse me?”

  He reworded the question. “Why are you here? I mean, I’m here to help catch Diosdado, but what are you getting out of this?”

  She looked out the window at the afternoon view of the capital city. When she glanced back at Joe, her smile was rueful. “Beats me,” she said. “I’m not getting paid nearly half enough, although it could be argued that working for royalty is a solid career boost. Of course, it all depends on whether we can successfully pass you off as Prince Tedric.”

  She sank down onto the couch and looked up at him, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand. “We have less than six hours before the committee makes a decision.” She shook her head and laughed humorlessly. “Instead of becoming more like Tedric, you seem more different from him than when we started. I look at you, Joe, and you don’t even look like the prince anymore.”

  Joe smiled as he sat next to her on the couch. “Lucky for us, most people won’t look beneath the surface. They’ll expect to see Ted, so…they’ll see Ted.”

  “I need this thing to work,” Veronica said, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “If this doesn’t work…”

  “Why?” Joe asked. “Mortgage payment coming due on the castle?”

  Veronica turned and looked at him. “Very funny.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You don’t really want to hear this.”

  Joe was watching her, studying her face. His dark eyes were fathomless, and as mysterious as the deepest ocean. “Yes, I do.”

  “Tedric’s sister has been my best friend since boarding school,” Veronica said. “Even though Tedric is unconcerned with Ustanzia’s financial state, Wila has been working hard to make her country more solvent. It matters to her—so it matters to me.” She smiled. “When oil was discovered, Wila actually did cartwheels right across the Capital lawn. I thought poor Jules was going to have a heart attack. But then she found out how much it would cost to drill. She’s counting on getting U.S. aid.”

  Jules.

  Be a dear, Jules, and ring the office. Veronica had murmured those words in her sleep, and since then, Joe had been wondering, not without a sliver of jealousy, exactly who this Jules was.

  “Who’s Jules?” Joe asked.

  “Jules,” Veronica repeated. “My brother. He conveniently married my best friend. It’s quite cozy, really, and very sweet. They’re expecting a baby any moment.”

  Her brother. Jules was her brother. Why did that make Joe feel so damned good? He and Veronica were going to be friends, nothing more, so why should he care whether Jules was her brother or her lover or her pet monkey?

  But he did care, damn it.

  Joe leaned forward. “So that’s why Wila didn’t come on this tour instead of Brain-dead Ted? Because she’s pregnant?”

  Veronica tried not to smile, but failed. “Don’t call Prince Tedric that,” she said.
/>
  He smiled at her, struck by the way her eyes were the exact shade of blue as her dress. “You know, you look pretty in blue.”

  Her smile vanished and she stood. “We should really get started,” she said, crossing to the dining table. “The food’s getting cold.”

  Joe didn’t move. “So where did you and Jules grow up? London?”

  Veronica turned to look back at him. “No,” she replied. “At first we traveled with our parents, and when we were old enough, we went away to school. The closest thing we had to a permanent home was Huntsgate Manor, where our Great-Aunt Rosamond lived.”

  “Huntsgate Manor,” Joe mused. “It sounds like something out of a fairy tale.”

  Veronica’s eyes grew dreamy and out of focus as she gazed out the window. “It was so wonderful. This big, old, moldy, ancient house with gardens and grounds that went on forever and ever and ever.” She looked up at Joe with a spark of humor in her eyes. “Not really,” she added. “I think the property is only about four or five acres, but when we were little, it seemed to go to the edge of the world and back.”

  Night and day, Joe thought. Their two upbringings were as different as night and day. He wondered what she would do, how she would react if she knew about the rock he’d crawled out from under.

  Veronica laughed, embarrassed. “I don’t know why I just told you all that,” she said. “It’s hardly interesting.”

  But it was interesting. It was fascinating. As fascinating as those gigantic houses he’d gone into with his mother, the houses that she’d cleaned when he was a kid. Veronica’s words were another porthole to that same world of “Look but don’t touch.” It was fascinating. And depressing as hell. Veronica had been raised like a little princess. No doubt she’d only be content to spend her life “happily ever after,” with a prince.

  And he sure as hell didn’t fit that bill.

  Except, what was he doing, thinking about things like happily ever after?

  “How about you, Joe?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Near New York City. We really should get to work,” he said, half hoping she’d let the subject of his childhood drop—and half hoping that she wouldn’t.