“That,” she informed him, “is a leaf from a maple tree.”

“It is?” the scientist asked. He yelped and leapt out of the way as she jerked the door open. “Aw, don’t leave already. It’s early. Hey, Artur! She’s jamming!”

“I am aware,” the prince’s voice drifted out.

“See you tomorrow,” Fred said and thought, to her credit, that she deserved full points for saying it without groaning.

Chapter Eighteen

Jonas got to the NEA just in time to hear Artur’s roar.

“I detest this puttering about! I insist on action at once!”

Whoa. Jonas practically scampered over to the jellies exhibit, where Fred had promised the three of them would be when the NEA opened the next morning. He waved his pass at the elderly woman staffing the cash register and ran past the penguins, his nostrils flaring at the fish-poop smell he knew he wouldn’t even notice five minutes from now.

Before he could triangulate their position from Artur’s scream, he was waylaid by a little blonde cutie waving a schedule of events at him.

“Hi! Welcome to the NEA! Would you like a schedule for the seal shows?”

He slowed down for a look. What the hell; she was awfully pretty. A little shrill, and disturbingly bouncy, but mighty pleasant to look at.

“I’ve been here lots of times,” he told her, noting the I Heart Dolphins pin over her left breast. Ah-ha! The annoying new intern Fred had bitched about. “I’ve pretty much got all the schedules memorized.”

“It doesn’t help to keep a reminder,” she giggled, waving the paper at him.

“You must be one of the new interns.”

“You bet! My name’s Madison. Say, if you’re so familiar with the place, maybe you could give me a tour.” She giggled again, hiding her mouth with perfectly manicured fingers.

“Nice offer, but I’m supposed to meet a friend.”

“Oh.” She pouted. She was a good pouter, and he suspected she knew it. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe. Nice to meet you, Madison.” He wondered how much time would pass before Fred strangled the poor girl, and gave her about seventy-two hours.

Hurrying away from the delectable intern, Jonas saw Fred, Artur and Thomas, and approached the group from behind. They were in a tight little huddle, Fred’s hair shining like blue cotton candy under the ultraviolet lights, Artur and some other guy sort of blocking her—kind of protectively?

Jonas skidded to a halt and took another look. Hard to miss Artur with the height and the shoulders and the hair looking like it was on fire, especially now, with all the yelling. And hard to miss Fred, trying (unsuccessfully) to shush him, bony arms like windshield wipers as she held up her hands in a soothing, un-Fredlike way.

But the third guy filled up space just the same way those two did; almost as tall as Artur, almost as broad, dark instead of fiery but more intense, waving his arms around and trying to be heard over Artur’s roars.