Harvard's Education by Suzanne Brockmann

Author:Suzanne Brockmann [Brockmann, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-28T22:20:45+00:00

But first she had more important things to do, such as checking in with the weather channel, to see if Mr. Murphy was going to send a tropical depression into their midst on the days they were scheduled to battle the steely-eyed Lieutenant William Hawken and his merry band of mock terrorists.

The phone rang before she'd keyed up the weather channel with the remote control.

P.J. hit the mute button and picked up the call. "Richards."

"Yo, it's H. Did you just page me?"

P.J. closed her eyes. "No. No, not yet. I was going to, but—"

"Good, you got my message, at least. Why don't you come down to the bar and—"

P.J. forced herself to sound neutral and pleasant. "Thanks, but no. I'm ready for bed—"

"It's only twenty hundred." His voice nearly cracked in disbelief. "You can't be serious—"

"I'm very serious. We've got some tough days ahead of us, starting tomorrow," she told him. "I intend to sleep as much now as I possibly—"

"Starting tomorrow, we've got two days of leave," he interrupted her.

Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't on the list. "We do?"

"We'll be boarding a plane for Southeast Asia on Thursday. Until then we've got a break."

"Southeast Asia?" P.J. laughed, tickled with delight "Kevin really came through, didn't he? What a guy! He deserves something special for this one. I'm going to have to think long and hard."

On the other end of the line, Harvard was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded different. Stiffer. More formal. "Richards, come downstairs. We really have to talk."

Now the silence was all hers. P.J. took a deep breath. "Daryl, I'm sorry. I don't think it's—"

"All right. Then I'll be right up."

"No—"

He'd already hung up.

P.J. swore sharply, then threw the phone's handset into the cradle with a clatter. Her bed was a rumpled mess of unmade blankets and sheets, her pillow slightly indented from her late afternoon nap.

She didn't want to make her bed. She wasn't going to make her bed, damn it. She'd meet him at the door, and they'd step outside into that little lobby near the elevators to talk. He'd say whatever it was he had to say, she'd turn him down one more time, and then she'd go back into her room.

He knocked, and P.J. quickly rifled through the mess on the dresser to find her key card. Slipping it into the pocket of her shorts, she went to the door. She peeked out the peephole. Yeah, it was definitely Harvard. She opened the door.

He wasn't smiling. He was just standing there, so big and forbidding. "May I come in?"

P.J. forced a smile. "Maybe we should talk outside."

Harvard glanced over his shoulder, and she realized there were people sitting on the sofa and chairs by the elevators. "I would prefer the privacy of your room. But if you're uncomfortable with that..."

Admitting she had a problem sitting down and talking to Harvard in the intimate setting of her hotel room would be tantamount to admitting she was not immune to his magnetic sexuality.

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