Faking It (31 page)

“How do you explain the tripod in the window?”

“I was hot.”

Basil frowns.

“The air conditioner at the Rubens is crap. I used the tripod to prop the window open so I could get a breeze. That’s it.”

“And your questionable movements?”

“Questionable movements? What questionable movements? I came back to my room, took off my clothes, jumped in the shower, and—” A horrifying thought suddenly occurs to me. “Hang on! How long were the palace guards watching me? Did they see me naked?”

Basil’s cheeks flush crimson, and he studies his notebook with a new intensity.

“Oh, yeah, and I’m the sick one! Does the queen know her palace is crawling with pervos?

Basil clears his throat. “According to the report, the guards witnessed suspicious movements.”

“Brilliant!” I clap my hands, humiliation fueling my petulant sarcasm. “They foiled my diabolical plot to dance naked in my room. Did they check to make sure my iPod wasn’t ticking? I would love to see their end of shift report.
‘Watched naked woman dance in her hotel room. That is all. God save the Queen.’
”

“Yes, well…”

“Naked! I was naked in my hotel room! What kind of threat does a dancing naked woman pose to Prince Harry? Give me a freaking break! I have seen the photos of him partying naked at a Vegas rager, surrounded by naked girls. Where were your guards then, huh?” My boiling anger tempered only by my complete and utter mortification. “I was alone…in my hotel room…NAKED!”

Basil clears his throat. “We’ve established you were starkers. Now then, if we could-”

My cheeks grow hot. The word starkers paints a far more vivid picture than the word naked. Stark naked. Totally exposed.

Basil seizes the initiative. “And I suppose your appearance at the hospital was merely coincidental?”

“I was following Prince Harry.”

“Right.” Basil leans forward, his narrow nostrils flaring as if scenting prey. “Now we are getting somewhere.”