The Royal Treatment

“Not too late,” he muttered. “Still time to get in your car and let the next poor fool on duty handle her.” His shift was over. Let Lieutenant Gimble take care of this. “Hell,” Jeremy grumbled with a disgusted snort, “that’s like sending a kid with a peashooter up against an armed tank.”

He just couldn’t do it to Gimble.

Penwyck was too damn small, that’s what the problem was. For three years, he’d managed to avoid a face-to-face confrontation with the woman he’d once promised to love, honor and cherish forever. But he saw plenty of her anyway. Every time he turned on the news.

Jade Erickson was PEN-TV’s latest darling. Once upon a time, she’d been his darling. But those days, he reminded himself, were long gone.

She stood five-foot-five, and packed a lot of curves onto that tiny frame. Curves he remembered all too well. Her shoulder-length auburn hair danced about her face in the sharp, cold wind. He could still recall the feel of that silken mass sliding across his skin, and his fingers itched to touch it again. In memory, he saw her sea-green eyes go smoky and soft with pleasure as he loved her. Now those eyes were narrowed and shooting daggers at the lieutenant.

Thinner than he remembered, she wore a black suit that clung to every curve, a white blouse and a diamond that flashed from her left lapel. When they were together, she hadn’t had diamonds. Jeremy couldn’t afford them. He’d bought her a small aquamarine—the color of her eyes—set in gold for an engagement ring. But that was gone now, too.

Her long fingers were curled around the scrolled emblem on the palace gates, and as he watched, she gave it a good shake. He laughed shortly. She hadn’t changed too much, then. That temper of hers still simmered just below the surface. She made a helluva picture, and Jeremy was male enough to appreciate it even while already working on ways to get rid of her.

He caught the young soldier’s glance and waved him off. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant beat a hasty—and grateful—retreat.

Jeremy turned to face her then, and his breath actually caught in his throat. Staring into those sea-foam-colored eyes of hers he felt like he’d been hit over the head. Damn. She still packed a punch.

He had to force himself to speak after a few seconds of stiff silence. “Jade.”

“J.T.”

Jeremy Thomas. J.T. Only his family called him that. It sounded good hearing it from her again. Damn it.

She cleared her throat, and he wondered if she’d felt the slam of desire as hard as he had. Then he decided he was better off not knowing.

“What are you doing here, Jade?”

“You know why I’m here.”

Yes, he did. Stubborn woman. “If it’s about the interview, then you’re wasting your time. And more importantly, mine.”

“Blast it, J.T.,” she said, and gave the gates another shake for good measure. “You should be helping me.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“For old times’ sake?”

He glanced past her to the skinny, older man standing behind her with a camera perched on his bony shoulder. Lowering his voice, Jeremy shifted his gaze back to her and said, “Old times’ sake? Are you nuts?”

She blew out a breath that ruffled the wisps of hair dusting her forehead. “Fine.” She let go of the gates and lifted her gaze to glare at him. “No old times. But the least you could do is be civil.”

“I was civil,” he reminded her, “the first three times you requested this stupid interview.”

“I thought if I came down here and we could talk, face-to-face, you’d change your mind.”

“Wrong.”

“The king is sick, J.T., and the queen—”

“The queen is attending her husband and doesn’t want to do an interview.”

“She has to say something.”

“She will. When she decides to.”

“I’m just trying to do my job,” Jade said.

“So am I.”

She tapped the toe of one high-heeled shoe against the pavement. “The people have a right to know.”

“The people have a right to know about business. They don’t have a right to invade the royal family’s private life.”

“The king is sick,” she argued.

“And being cared for.”

“By whom?”

“You know,” he said, leaning in closer still, “if you had put half this determination into our marriage…”

She flushed. Good to know she could still do that.

Her cameraman moved closer, a small red light blinking at the base of the lens, and Jeremy lifted one hand, pointing at him. “Turn that thing off.”

“Do it, Harry,” Jade ordered without even looking at the man. The cameraman complied and moved off a few paces.

When they were alone again, she pushed her hair back out of her face, looked up at him and said, “J.T., I only want five minutes of her time.”

“The queen is busy with her husband. She puts a high priority on caring for her family.”

Jade winced at the direct hit. “Low blow, J.T.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledged, and admitted silently that he’d be better off not stirring up old resentments. What good would it do, anyway? “But you’re still not getting through the gates.”

“This isn’t the end of it, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“This is important to me.”

“I can’t help you.” And that didn’t make him as happy as he’d thought it would. She could still get to him. Just being this close to her, inhaling the scent of her flowery perfume, was enough to wipe the years away and take him back to that small apartment they’d shared. Back when they’d thought they had a future.

When they were young and naive.

Back when they’d thought love would be enough.