Deep down she knew. She bit her lip. He loves me.
She used a hand towel to wipe the foggy mirror, but it left too many streaks and smudges to be helpful. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
As good as this is, as fun as it feels, this thing, this relationship . . . it can’t continue like this, she thought, shaking her head. And he knows it too. He has to. She had important work to do. The revamped Drain app was almost ready. They were days away from the beta release, and she just couldn’t wait to get back out there and follow the tips, wherever they might lead.
Of course, there would be quirks to fix and adjustments to make, but she was confident the app would be a success—despite her dad’s constant obstruction. For a man who had always been so supportive of her, his tenacious bitching about how Drain was a waste of her talents was getting irritating. She was frustrated at the amount of energy her father seemed to spend on finding reasons why she shouldn’t launch the new version. As the vice president-elect of the United States, didn’t he have more vital issues to deal with?
She had fantasized about excavating previously undiscovered sites since she was a little girl and saw a documentary about the Nazca Lines in Peru and how some thought they’d been drawn by aliens. She’d quickly found that the evidence disproved that theory, but she’d been left with an enduring fascination with humankind’s efforts to alter the very face of the earth. It was her realization of how much the numerous satellites that constantly orbited the planet could reveal about the past, coupled with her memory of how fascinated the public was by archaeological mysteries, that led her to conceptualize Drain.
There was no way she was going to let her father ruin her dream. His claim that it was too dangerous for her to travel through parts of the world less friendly to Americans didn’t hold water. Weren’t the Secret Service agents the best in the world anyway?
One way or the other, the next two years were going to be busy. She guessed that was why every moment she spent with Clay was so precious. Truth was, she couldn’t picture herself without him. Was this love?
My God, am I in love? Veronica felt her cheeks blush. Oh shit. Am I really? Deep down, she knew the answer to that. And she’d known for a while now. She’d had other lovers, but she had never dared think of any man as hers before. Not until Clayton White.
I have no time for this, she thought, her stomach in knots. No time at all.
Maybe they could continue to see each other from time to time, once her father was fully sworn in, once Clay was assigned other duties? The inauguration was only six weeks away. She was planning on being there, of course. It would be nice if Clayton could be her plus-one at the ceremony. Not as one of her close-protection agents, but as the man in her life. She had a feeling her dad would approve of her relationship. Alexander Hammond didn’t give his blessing easily, but it wasn’t much of a leap of faith to say he was fond of Clay.
Especially since Maxwell’s death in Afghanistan, she thought, remembering how devastated her dad had been about Clay’s dad’s passing.
Sometimes she wondered if her dad already knew about them. He was a very, very difficult man to read. If he did, he hadn’t confronted her about it or mentioned anything to her mother. Veronica’s mom wouldn’t be able to keep that kind of secret for long.
She sighed. Heaven help her—she needed Clay in her life.
She used the hair dryer to defog the mirror and spent the next ten minutes getting ready for her big night.
While Veronica was getting dressed, White changed into his tuxedo, which wasn’t super comfortable with the soft body armor underneath his shirt, and returned to her room. He replaced his earbud in his ear and performed a radio check with XJD-31 to ensure proper communications. He then confirmed that all of his five agents were in position and that the site was green, free of imminent danger. Nobody had anything to report. They were ready to go.
When Veronica came out of the bathroom, he took an involuntary step back. She was beautiful. She wore a long, fitted red dress with a pair of black Louboutin stilettos. Her unruly brown hair was now loose and cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. Her green eyes were sparkling, just like the simple but elegant diamond necklace she wore.
“You clean up nicely, Mr. Bond,” Veronica said before White could utter a single word. “You look dashing in that tux.”
He opened his mouth to say something witty but decided otherwise. “And you look marvelous, darling,” he said in his best British accent. “Absolutely marvelous.”