Tall, Dark and Devastating: Harvard's Education. Suzanne Brockmann

“Rescue squad.”

      Joe covered a laugh by coughing. “Sit rep, please.” The captain was using his officer’s voice, and Harvard knew that wherever he was, he wasn’t alone.

      “We’re having a severe pencil shortage, Captain,” Harvard said rapidly, in his best imitation of a battle-stressed officer straight from Hollywood’s Central Casting. “I think you better get down here right away to take care of it.”

      Joe coughed again, longer and louder this time. “I see.”

      “So sorry to interrupt your lunch, sir, but the men are in tears. I’m sure the commander will understand.”

      Joe’s voice sounded strangled. “I appreciate your calling.”

      “Of course, if you’d prefer to stay and dine with the—”

      “No, no. No, I’m on my way. Thank you very much, Senior Chief.”

      “I love you, too, Captain,” Harvard said and hung up the phone.

      Lucky was on the floor, laughing. Harvard nudged him with his toe and spoke in his regular voice. “I’m changing out of this ice-cream suit. Don’t you dare leave for the airfield without me.”

      The half of a chicken-salad sandwich P.J. had forced down during lunch was rolling in her stomach.

      Lieutenant Blue McCoy stood in front of the group of SEALs and FInCOM agents, briefing them on the afternoon’s exercise.

      P.J. tried to pay attention as he recited the name of the aircraft that would take them to an altitude from which they’d jump out of the plane.

      Jump out of the plane.

      P.J. took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew she could do this. She was going to hate it, but just like going to the dentist, time would keep ticking, and the entire ordeal would eventually be over and done with.

      “We’ll be going out of the aircraft in teams of two,” Blue said in his thick Southern drawl. “You will stay with your jump buddy for the course of the exercise. If you become separated during landing, you must find each other immediately upon disposing of your chute. Remember, we’ll be timing you from the moment you step out of that plane to the moment you check in at the assigned extraction point. If you reach the extraction point without your partner, you’re automatically disqualified. Does everyone understand?”

      P.J. nodded. Her mouth was too dry to murmur a reply.

      The door opened at the back of the room, and Blue paused and smiled a greeting. “About time you boys got here.”

      P.J. turned to see Harvard closing the door behind him. He was wearing camouflage pants tucked securely into black boots and a snugly fitting dark green T-shirt. He was looking directly at her from under the brim of his cap. He nodded just once, then turned his attention to McCoy.

      “Sorry to interrupt,” he said. It wasn’t until he moved toward the front of the room that P.J. noticed Lucky had been standing beside him. “Have you worked up the teams yet, Lieutenant?”

      Blue nodded. “I have the list right here, Senior Chief.”

      “Mind doing some quick revising so I can get in on the action?”

      “’Course not,” Blue replied. He looked at the room. “Why don’t y’all take a five-minute break?”

      P.J. wasn’t the only one in the room who was nervous. Greg Greene went to the men’s room for the fourth time in half an hour. The other men stood and stretched their legs. She sat there, wishing she could close her eyes and go to sleep, wishing that when she woke up it would be tomorrow morning and this day would be behind her, most of all wishing Harvard had given her some kind of warning that today’s challenge would involve jumping out of an airplane thousands of feet above the earth.

      As she watched, Harvard leaned against the table to look at the list. He supported himself with his arms, and his muscles stood out in sharp relief. For once, she let herself look at him, hoping for a little distraction.

      The man was sheer perfection. And speaking of distractions, his shirt wasn’t the only thing that fit him snugly. His camouflage pants hugged the curve of his rear end sinfully well. Why on earth anyone would want to camouflage that piece of art was beyond her.

      He was deep in discussion with Blue, then both men paused to glance at her, and she quickly looked away. What was Harvard telling the lieutenant? It was clear they were talking about her. Was Harvard telling McCoy all she’d let slip yesterday at the beach? Were they considering the possibility that she might freeze with fear and end up putting more than just herself in danger? Were they going to refuse to let her make the jump?

      She glanced at them, and Harvard was still watching her, no doubt taking in the cold sweat that was dampening her shirt and beading on her upper lip. She knew she could keep her fear from showing in her eyes and on her face, but she couldn’t keep from perspiring, and she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding and causing her hands to shake.

      She was scared to death, but she was damned if she was going to let anyone tell her she couldn’t make this jump.

      As she watched, Harvard spoke again to Blue. Blue nodded, took out a pen and began writing on the paper.

      Harvard came down the center aisle and paused next to her chair.

      “You okay?” he asked quietly enough so that no one else could hear.

      She was unable to hold his gaze. He was close enough to smell her fear and to see that she was, in fact, anything but okay. She didn’t bother to lie. “I can do this.”

      “You don’t have to.”

      “Yes, I do. It’s part of this program.”

      “This jump is optional.”

      “Not for me, it’s not.”

      He was silent for a moment. “There’s nothing I can say to talk you out of this, is there?”

      P.J. met his gaze. “No, Senior Chief, there’s not.”

      He nodded. “I didn’t think so.” He gave her another long look, then moved to the back of the room.

      P.J. closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She wanted to get this over with. The waiting was killing her.

      “Okay,” Blue said. “Listen up. Here’re the teams. Schneider’s with Greene, Farber’s with me. Bobby’s with Wes, and Crash is with Lucky. Richards, you’re with Senior Chief Becker.”

      P.J. turned to look at Harvard. He was gazing at her, and she knew this was his doing. If he couldn’t talk her out of the jump, he was going to go with her, to babysit her on the way down.

      “Out in the other room, you’ll find a jumpsuit, a helmet and a belt pack with various supplies,” Blue continued. “Including a length of rope.”

      Farber raised his hand. “What’s the rope for?”

      Blue smiled. “Just one of those things that might come in handy,” he said. “Any other questions?”

      The room was silent.

      “Let’s get our gear and get to the plane,” Blue said.

      Harvard sat next to P.J. and fastened his seat belt as the plane carrying the team went wheels up.

      Sure enough, P.J. was a white-knuckle flyer. She clung to the armrests as if they were her only salvation. But her head was against the seat, and her eyes were closed. To the casual observer, she was totally relaxed and calm.

      She’d glanced at him briefly as he sat down, then went back to studying the insides of her eyelids.

      Harvard took the opportunity to look at her. She was pretty, but he’d had his share of pretty women before, many of them much more exotic-looking than P.J.

      It was funny. He was used to gorgeous