Part 44 (1/2)

He remembered being offered a seat on a sofa, as Roosevelt pushed himself out from behind his desk and joined him at a small sitting area. The president told him about a team of men already formed and training in Fort Pierce, Florida. Underwater Demolition Teams or Combat Demolition Units, they were called. It was Vince's idea almost exactly, already set into motion.

Somewhere during the conversation, after FDR asked him if he'd be interested in joining this team of men, after Vince had told him a heartfelt ”Yes, sir,” Charlotte quietly excused herself from the conversation and left the room.

It was a victory, but it was bittersweet. He was to leave for Florida almost immediately.

He'd gotten what he thought he'd wanted.

Except the one thing he wanted most of all, more than anything, was a woman who didn't want him.

At least not until fate intervened.

”Yes,” Vince said to Charlotte now. ”I really want to go to Hawaii. Will you think about it?”

”Why is it so important to you?” she asked.

And suddenly he knew.

It was because he'd lived James's life.

Vince had lived the life that should have been James Fletcher's. He needed to make this pilgrimage to pay his respects to the man whose death had made Vince's happiness possible.

”Just think about it,” he said. He grabbed his car keys from the box by the door. ”We're out of milk. I'm going to go pick some up.”

She put down her pencil. ”Vincenta”

He fled.

And he realized, as he pulled out of the garage, that for all these years, it hadn't been Charlotte who didn't want to talk about James.

It had been him.

Chapter 21.

”Do you have a minute, Lieutenant?”

Muldoon looked up to find Joan standing in the open doorway of Sam Starrett's office.

It was clear, however, that the lieutenant she wanted a minute from was not Sam.

”Hey, Joan.” Sam couldn't have missed her frosty tone, but he pretended not to have noticed. ”Come on in. I'm on my way out.” Yeah, right. He had just told Muldoon his plan to spend the next few hours tackling some paperwork. ”Make yourselves at home.”

He closed the door behind him as he made a hasty exit.

And there they were, Muldoon pulling himself to his feet.

He should have been the one who had bolted. Just looking at her made him angry all over againa”angry enough to say things he definitely shouldn't say, neither aloud nor in mixed company.

”I really only have a minute,” he lied. ”So if this is going to take longera””

”Oh, my G.o.d,” she said. ”You are hiding from me, aren't you? At first I was worried when you didn't show up, because you promised me you'd give my grandparents this toura””

”Was there some kind of problem with Steve?” he asked. ”He's the one who usually gives our VIP tours. I didn't think you'd have a problem with having someone more knowledgeable on hand.”

”He was fine,” Joan said. ”But... well, you know, I was kind of looking forward to seeing you. I mean, hey, I didn't spend the night with Steve.”

It was supposed to be a joke, meant to lighten the mood, but he didn't laugh. ”I'm sure we could arrange that for you if you like.”

Joan probably wouldn't have looked more shocked if he'd reached out and slapped her across the face. And after the shock came anger. Her eyes actually flashed as she glared at him.

”What is wrong with you?” she asked hotly. ”What an awful thing to say!”

It was. But G.o.dd.a.m.n it, he was angry and frustrated. And hurt. Really hurt. ”If you were looking forward to seeing me, you could've called me, Joan. Like last night, for example. Like hours after Brooke had her press conference and told the world that there was nothing going on between the two of us. Like after there was no longer any reason on earth why you and I couldn't be seen togethera”except maybe your own insecurity about your career.”

He'd waited hours for Joan to call, a.s.suming she was in meetings or up to her ears in making arrangements for Brooke's admission to that rehab center. But no. She'd been in the hotel bar, kicking back with some of her White House friends.

Pathetic a.s.shole that he was, he'd gone looking for her, like some kind of creepy stalker, desperate for just a glimpse of her smile.

Joan's silence last night had been a very clear message to him, letting him know that their night together had meant far more to him than it had to her.

Jesus Christ, you'd think he'd learn. What a loser.

Oh, yeah, he was feeling really good about himself today....

”You're the one who stood me upa”in front of my grandparents, no lessa”and you 're mad at me for not calling you?” she clarified. ”What's that about? You couldn't call me?”

”I told you very specifically that the next move was yours,” Muldoon told her tightly. ”You want to see me again, you call me. That's how it works.”

”Well, excuse me for not knowing the rules! I've never dated a gigolo before!”

Silence.

She didn't meet his gaze. Or maybe he was the one who couldn't bring himself to look at her, because, G.o.d, it was hard to maintain eye contact with a knife in the gut.

”Well,” he finally managed to say. ”At least we now know what you think of me.”

”I didn't mean that.”

”I think you did.”

”Look, I should have called you,” Joan admitted. ”I'm sorry. I was scared. I'm confused about this.” She gestured between the two of them. ”About us. I don't know how we can make this work, Mike, and it's completely freaking me out.”

”Yeah, well, we can't make it work,” he told her, looking out of Sam's window. ”It won't work. I mean, yeah, we can see each other as often as we possibly can for the next few weeks, and, sure, it'll be fun. We'll talk and laugh a lot and make love for hours.” He sighed. ”And then you'll go back to D.C. You'll tell me you'll call me, that we'll get together soon, and you'll get on a plane and ... that'll be it. That's the last I'll hear from you.”

”That's not true.”

”Yes, it is.” He turned to look at her, angry at her all over again for not admitting it. ”I'll call you, and your a.s.sistant or secretary or someone in your office will tell me you're busy and take a message. They'll even take my name and phone numbera”at least they will the first few tunes I call. But you won't call me back. And then, when I call again and again, they won't even bother taking my number, and eventually I'll stop calling. Eventually I'll stop bothering you. I'll become a distant memorya”part of the good time you had on your last vacation. I'll be just another barely remembered name on your 'guys I had fun f.u.c.king' list.”