It's certainly not my proudest achievement, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time—"the time" being my last year of college. It was an easy way to make money—easier than donating sperm had been—and wasn't nearly as nerve-racking. Not to mention that I, being an expert on the subject of romance and sex, had been perfect for the job. When the book was finally published and was out on the market, I'd felt a certain sense of pride, though I never told anyone about it. The book was my little secret. No one I knew read much and certainly none of them read Harlequin romance novels, so I felt no fear that I might be discovered.

Everyone thinks McGee is the only one of us who's made a foray into the literature world. They also think that I'm the last person in the world who would have anything to do with a book. Ducky, Abby, Ziva, even Gibbs would all be more apt to be involved. But the joke's on them. Because I, Anthony DiNozzo would forever be immortalized in the world of books with that novel, a lustful and sensual little book called The Handmaiden's Lover.

***************************************

Jimmy Palmer had a dark secret, one that he would never admit to anyone. He read Harlequin romance novels. He didn't just read them, in fact; he was downright obsessed with them. The arousing novels of young, sexually-fueled lovers, with covers depicting bare-chested men with rippling abs, clutching beautiful, full-bosomed women against them…they just attracted him like a light attracts a moth.

It wasn't for sexual fulfillment that he read them—though he couldn't deny that it was an added bonus. Jimmy enjoyed the novels because, at heart, he was a hopeless romantic. He had dreams of being some gorgeous woman's knight in shining armor, of swinging in and dueling with an evil villain before gathering the beautiful and virginal maiden in his arms and carrying her off into the sunset. He wanted to feel a woman's head—a head of long, luscious hair that hung in front of her sparkling eyes—nestled against his chest; her bountiful breasts rising and falling with each breath, threatening to pop from the tightly bound corset which covered them. Her eyes would flutter open, framed by her long, dark lashes. She would look up at him, rose-colored lips formed in a sweet smile, and she would say to him…

"Excuse me young man, could you hand me that copy of Between Silk Sheets?"

He jumped, yanked violently from his day dream by a diminutive woman old enough to be his great-grandmother. She smiled a gummy smile at him; he turned, grabbed the book, and handed it to her without a word. She gave him a wink before she walked off, causing him to blush furiously.

What would people say if they knew of his hobby? His parents, he knew, thought of these books as trash and very much below him. His friends would laugh, he knew, teasing him mercilessly. That's why he came to The Literature Corner, an independently run book store that few people knew of. There was no chance of anyone he knew seeing him here. On the off-chance they do…well, he'd just explain that his new girlfriend—who didn't exist—was a big fan of these books and had asked him to pop out and get her one. That created a bit of a problem when that person wanted to meet Jimmy's new girlfriend, but he could just "break-up with her" and never speak of her again.

He walked down the aisle, browsing the titles. Each title held the promise of a steamy romance story that would send tingles down his spine. They all looked so good…so promising. His Other Wife…A Doomed Affair…Love Letters…Peeking Through the Keyhole…The Handmaiden's Lover… He stopped at the last one, immediately intrigued. The book had an orange tint and the title was written in one of those wonderful gold lettering fonts, complete with a heart dotting the "i" in "Maiden."

Excitedly, Jimmy reached up a hand and slid the book out from the shelf. He felt the pages beneath his finger; they were soft. He flipped it over, examining the cover…the sky, orange from the setting sun…the beautiful kingdom in the background…the swooning woman, dressed in little more than a ragged dress and red cloak…the muscular man, holding her in his arms…

As Jimmy's eyes roamed the cover, he felt his heart skip a beat. Was…was he seeing things? It was possible. He blinked rapidly and even removed his glasses to wipe them in his shirt. Then he looked back at the cover. No, he realized, he hadn't been seeing things.

"Tony…"

***************************************

I had come into work that day with a cloud hanging above my head. My gut told me something disastrous was going to happen. So I was sitting there at my desk, poised and ready for whatever the day threw at me. I had nerves of steel…

"Psst! Tony!"

I'm not too proud to admit that the Autopsy Gremlin's harsh whisper made me jump in my seat; but I only jumped a little bit. "Palmer!" I growled. "What do you want?"

His face read of guilt and embarrassment. "I…uh….could we talk? Private?"

I glanced around the bullpen. No one else was in yet. "Sure, I could spare a few precious moments of my time," I said as I rose from my seat and coolly strode his way. "I'm always generous with my sage words. So what can I do for you? Need dating advice? Wardrobe advice? The number for a good escort service?"

"Um…no, to all three."

"So what do you need?"

He stood there before me, stuttering and stammering worse than McGee had his first year with us. Not that I blamed him, of course; being in my presence could be an awe-inspiring ordeal. As flattering as it was, though, I didn't have all day. "Out with it, Palmer!"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled a book out of his bag and held it up in front of me. It was one of those trashy romance novels that women like to read; the kind where some rugged, good-looking man saves a beautiful and well-endowed woman and then ravishes her senseless. That's the nice way of saying he bones her. But that's not important; what's important is that I knew the book he was holding in front of me. I knew it very intimately…

"Where did you get that?" I hissed, grabbing it from his hand. No one was supposed to know about this.

"I…I, uh, bought it at the bookstore…" he said sheepishly. "Um…it wasn't for me…it was for my, uh, my…girlfriend?"

I knew he was lying, but I didn't care. "You can tell no one about this! If anybody finds out about this…God, I'll never live it down."

Surprisingly, Autopsy Gremlin looked uncertain. "I don't know…I think it's kind of cool…"

"What could possibly be cool about being on the cover of some stupid romance book?"

He looked down at the cover. I winced. It had been a different time—a time of feathery hair and crazy ambitions of fame. I'd been told by more than one delicious co-ed that I was a natural for modeling. After enough prodding and pushing, I'd gone in for an open call. There were many representatives there, all from different companies. When I'd been asked by one woman to go in for a meeting, I'd been ecstatic. I pictured myself modeling the clothing of Armani, Dior, and Kohrs, walking runways, doing photo shoots, traveling to exotic locations.

How was I to know the job was modeling for the cover of a romance novel?

"Well, isn't that what guys want to be?"

"Romance cover models?"

"No, I mean those macho men who can get women like this."

"Palmer, women like that don't really exist," I told him. "And besides, you don't need to be some Fabio wannabe to get hot chicks. It's just a matter of confidence."

He cast his eyes downward. "I kind of lack in that area."

He looked so pitiful, standing there like a lost little puppy. So I, being the generous guy that I am, decided to help the kid out a bit. "It's nothing you can't work on."

"Could you teach me?" he asked hopefully.

Teach? I had never taken on such a pupil, but it wasn't completely undoable. "Well, I guess I could give you a few pointers. For one thing, you've got to stop slouching about like that." To prove my point, I placed a hand on the back of his shoulders and the other on his gut, and then I pushed, straightening out his spine. "See? You're looking better already."

"There's got to be more to it than better posture."

"You've got to shoot the ladies a cocky grin," I said. I held the book up. "Look at my grin here. I know I'm going to tap her later, once I've rescued her from the evil Count. Now you try it." He attempted to emulate my perfect grin, but ended up looking like he'd just bitten into a sour lemon. "Uh, you can practice that later in front of a mirror."

"I'll never get it," he bemoaned. "I'm doomed forever to be…Jimmy Palmer!"

"Hey! There's nothing wrong with being Jimmy Palmer! I'm sure there's a woman who's found you attractive." The goofy smile that spread over his face indicated that I was right. "You just need more confidence!" I slapped the book against his chest, pressing it into his grasp. "Study me. Study this picture. Look at every nuance of my expression."

He took the novel, flipping it over to examine it further. "And this will help?"

I gave him one of my dazzling smiles. "Couldn't hurt."

His small smile made me feel good, like I'd done my civic duty for the day. "You'll get it, kid. You just need to work at it a bit harder than I do."

"Thanks, Tony," he said sincerely.

Thinking our little session was over, I turned to make my way back to my desk. "Uh, Tony?"

I turned. "Yeah?"

"Um…uh…how did you end up like this? I mean, on the cover and all?"

I sighed. I'd hoped to avoid the story of my foray into trashy romance novels. "I was young," I told him, "young and stupid. I thought I could catapult myself into the acting and modeling world."

"Didn't happen?"

"If it did do you think I would be working here?" In truth, I probably would. I mean, law enforcement is just in my blood; no way a little part in some movie could keep me from it. "All I got was this job. I was so embarrassed by it that I never went on another audition after that."

He glanced down at the cover once more with awe and admiration. That was the kind of man he fantasized about being. Funny; Palmer wished he could be the cover of a romance novel and I wanted to get as far from it as I possible could. We live in a topsy-turvy world.

"Just keep it up," I told him. "You'll get there." I turned once again to go, but stopped myself this time. "Oh, yeah, and Jimmy? If you tell anyone about this, I will slap you silly."

***************************************

Jimmy watched Tony leave, the novel still firm in his grasp. After Tony had rounded the corner, Jimmy looked back down at the book, at the rugged man who decorated the cover. Jimmy knew he would never be that, would never be Tony. But he would look to this as a goal, as an aspiration of who he hoped to be one day. One day, he too would be…

"Jimmy Palmer," he whispered to no one, "Romance Novel Cover Model!"

AN: This bit of silliness was inspired my Michael Weatherly's joking comment that his first job had been as a model for a romance novel. Thanks for reading!