Harvard's Education (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series #5)

Harvard's Education (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series #5)

by Suzanne Brockmann
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Harvard's Education (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series #5) by Suzanne Brockmann

It was an experiment… but no one could have predicted the results.

For eight weeks FInCOM agent P. J. Richards is being given
access to the absolutely-no-women-allowed world of the U.S. Navy SEALs, and she isn't about to let anyone tell her she can't hack it. P.J. can't afford to be distracted by anything… or anyone. And that includes Senior Chief "Harvard" Becker.

Harvard believes that there is no room for women in a combat zone. It's too dangerous, too tough… and with P.J. involved, too distracting. He might respect her sharp intellect and her shooting abilities, but he still doesn't want the responsibility of making sure she stays alive.

But P.J. isn't a woman who backs down easily, and to her mind, Harvard has a lot to learn. She just doesn't expect him to be so eager to instruct her on other subjects… like trust, desire and maybe even love.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780373078844
Publisher: Harlequin
Publication date: 09/23/1998
Series: Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series , #5
Pages: 248
Product dimensions: 4.20(w) x 6.65(h) x 0.75(d)

About the Author

Suzanne Brockmann is the award-winning, bestselling author of more than 20 category romances. Her first book was released in 1993, and since then, she's received 17 different awards, including Best Series Romance of 1996, a 1997 Career Achievement Award and 11 different W.I.S.H. Awards for creating completely irresistible romantic heroes, all from Romantic Times Magazine. Her books have appeared on the USA Today Bestseller List, the Waldenbooks Romance List and on the keeper shelves of romance readers everywhere.

Suzanne lives near Boston with her husband, a lawyer, and two children, both professional actors. When Suzanne isn't writing, she's busy making music. Formerly the lead singer and songwriter for an original Boston rock band, she is now vocal arranger, director, and lead alto of the eight-voice a cappella group Serious Fun.

Suzanne is also one of the founders and volunteer organizers of Natick's Appalachian Benefit Coffeehouse, raising money for the Cabell/Lincoln Country Workcamp, which rebuilds housing for the poor, elderly and disabled in West Virginia.


Boston, MA

Date of Birth:



Attended Boston University

Read an Excerpt

Harvard's Education

By Suzanne Brockmann

Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.

Copyright © 2004 Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-7783-2079-0

Chapter One

This was wrong. It was all wrong. Another few minutes, and this entire combined team of FInCOM agents and Navy SEALs was going to be torn to bits.

There was a small army of terrorists out there in the steamy July night. The Ts - or tangos, as the SEALs were fond of calling them - were waiting on their arrival with assault rifles that were as powerful as the weapon P. J. Richards clutched in her sweating hands.

P.J. tried to slow her pounding heart, tried to make the adrenaline that was streaming through her system work for her rather than against her as she crept through the darkness.

FInCOM Agent Tim Farber was calling the shots, but Farber was a city boy - and a fool, to boot. He didn't know squat about moving through the heavy underbrush of this kind of junglelike terrain. Of course, P.J. was a fine one to be calling names. Born in D.C., she'd been raised on concrete and crumbling blacktop - a different kind of jungle altogether.

Still, she knew enough to realize that Farber had to move more slowly to listen to the sounds of the night around him. And as long as she was criticizing, the fact that four FInCOM agents and three SEALs were occupying close to the same amount of real estate along this narrow trail made her feel as if she werepart of some great big Christmas package, all wrapped up with a ribbon on top, waiting under some terrorist's tree.

"Tim." P.J. spoke almost silently into the wireless radio headset she and the rest of the CSF team - the Combined SEAL/FInCOM Antiterrorist team - had been outfitted with.

"Spread us out and slow it down."

"Feel free to hang back if we're moving too fast for you." Farber intentionally misunderstood, and P.J. felt a flash of frustration. As the only woman in the group, she was at the receiving end of more than her share of condescending remarks.

But while P.J. stood only five feet two inches and weighed in at barely one hundred and fifteen pounds, she could run circles around any one of these men - including most of the big, bad Navy SEALs. She could outshoot nearly all of them, too. When it came to sheer, brute force, yes, she'd admit she was at a disadvantage. But that didn't matter. Even though she couldn't pick them up and throw them any farther than she could spit, she could outthink damn near anyone, no sweat.

She sensed more than heard movement to her right and raised her weapon.

But it was only the SEAL called Harvard. The brother. His name was Daryl Becker and he was a senior chief - the naval equivalent of an army sergeant. He cut an imposing enough figure in his street clothes, but dressed in camouflage gear and protective goggles, he looked more dangerous than any man she'd ever met. He'd covered his face and the top of his shaved head with streaks of green and brown greasepaint that blended eerily with his black skin.

He was older than many of the other SEALs in the illustrious Alpha Squad. P.J. was willing to bet he had a solid ten years on her at least, making him thirty-five - or maybe even older. This was no green boy. This one was one-hundred-percent-pure grown man - every hard, muscled inch of him. Rumor had it he'd actually attended Harvard University and graduated cum laude before enlisting in Uncle Sam's Navy.

He hand-signaled a question. "Are you all right?" He mouthed the words as well - as if he thought she'd already forgotten the array of gestures that allowed them to communicate silently. Maybe Greg Greene or Charles Schneider had forgotten, but she remembered every single one.

"I'm okay," she signaled to him as tersely as she could, frowning to emphasize her disapproval.

Damn, Harvard had been babying her from the word go. Ever since the FInCOM agents had first met the SEALs from Alpha Squad, this man in particular had been watching her closely, no doubt ready to catch her when she finally succumbed to the female vapors and fainted.

P.J. used hand signals to tell him what Tim Farber had ignored. Stop. Listen. Silent. Something's wrong.

The woods around them were oddly quiet. All the chirping and squeaking and rustling of God only knows what kinds of creepy crawly insect life had stopped. Someone else was out there, or they themselves were making too much racket. Either possibility was bad news.

Tim Farber's voice sounded over the headphones. "Raheem says the campsite is only a quarter mile ahead. Split up into groups."

About time. If she were the AIC - the agent in charge - of the operation, she would have broken the group into pairs right from the start. Not only that, but she would have taken what the informant, Raheem Al Hadi, said with a very large grain of salt instead of hurtling in, ill-informed and half-cocked.

"Belay that." Tim's voice was too loud in her ears. "Raheem advises the best route in is on this path. These woods are booby-trapped. Stay together."

P.J. felt like one of the Redcoats, marching along the trail from Lexington to Concord - the perfect target for the rebel guerrillas.

She had discussed Raheem with Tim Farber before they'd left on this mission. Or rather, she'd posed some thought-provoking questions to which he'd responded with off-the-cuff reassurances. Raheem had given information to the SEALs before. His record had proven him to be reliable. Tim had reassured her, all right - he'd reassured her that he was, indeed, a total fool.

She'd found out from the other two FInCOM agents that Farber believed the SEALs were testing him to see if he trusted them. He was intending to prove he did.

Stay close to me, Harvard said with his hands.

P.J. pretended not to see him as she checked her weapon. She didn't need to be baby-sat. Annoyance flooded through her, masking the adrenaline surges and making her feel almost calm.

He got right in her face. Buddy up, he signaled. Follow me.

No. You follow me. She shot the signal back at him. She, for one, was tired of blindly following just anyone. She'd come out here in these wretched, bug-infested, swampy woods to neutralize terrorists. And that was exactly what she was going to do. If G.I. Joe here wanted to tag along, that was fine by her.

He caught her wrist in his hand - Lord, he had big hands - and shook his head in warning.

He was standing so close she could feel body heat radiating from him. He was much taller than she was, more than twelve inches, and she had to crane her neck to glare at him properly.

He smiled suddenly, as if he found the evil eye she was giving him behind her goggles amusing. He clicked off his lip mike, pushing it slightly aside so that he could lean down to whisper in her ear, "I knew you'd be trouble, first time I saw you."

It was remarkable, really, the way this man's smile transformed his face, changing him from stern, savage warrior to intensely interested and slightly amused potential lover. Or maybe he was just mildly interested and highly amused, and her too vivid imagination had made up the other parts.

P.J. pulled her hand away, and as she did, the world exploded around her, and Harvard fell to the ground.

He'd been shot.

Her mind froze, but her body reacted swiftly as a projectile whistled past her head.

She brought her weapon up as she hit the ground, using her peripheral vision to mark the positions of the tangos who had crept up behind them. She fired in double bursts, hitting one, then two, then three of them in rapid succession.

All around her, weapons were being fired and men were shouting in outrage and in pain. From what she could see, the entire CSF team was completely surrounded - except for the little hole she'd made in the terrorists' line of attack.

"Man down," P.J. rasped, following FInCOM procedure as she crawled on knees and elbows toward Harvard's body. But he'd taken a direct hit. She knew from one glance there was no use pulling him with her as she moved outside the kill zone.

"Backup - we need backup!" She could hear Tim Farber's voice, pitched up an octave, as she moved as silently as possible toward the prone bodies of the terrorists she'd brought down.


Excerpted from Harvard's Education by Suzanne Brockmann Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Harvard's Education (Tall, Dark and Dangerous Series #5) 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 37 reviews.
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WasabiSC More than 1 year ago
Flow was good. Capture of characters and story line interesting.
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