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  “He’s not going to,” Joe said. “I have no intention of dying.” It was a fact. His quiet statement combined with the certainty in his eyes and on his face convinced Veronica that it was, indeed, a fact. He looked hard and invincible, and quite possibly immortal.

  But he wasn’t immortal. He was human. He was flesh and blood, and starting tomorrow morning, he was going to be a target. When he stepped out the hotel door dressed as Prince Tedric, there could be an assassin’s gun trained on him.

  By tomorrow at this time, Joe could very well have been shot. He could be seriously injured. Or worse. He could be dead.

  Permanently dead.

  Joe might be able to disregard the danger, but Veronica couldn’t. He was going to be out in public with a security team that wasn’t up to par. Sure, the odds were better now that the three SEALs from the Alpha Squad had joined FInCOM’s team, but there were no guarantees.

  Veronica was going to be safely tucked away in some surveillance vehicle where, if the terrorists did get through the security force, she’d have a front-row seat to watch Joe die.

  He was sitting there watching her, and she was struck by his casual bravery, his unassuming heroism. He was doing this for Admiral Forrest, for the admiral’s dead son, and for all of the other U.S. sailors who’d been killed at Diosdado’s hands. And for all the people, sailors and civilians, who would be hurt or killed by the terrorists if they were not stopped here and now.

  Yes, there was a chance that he might die. But in Joe’s eyes, it was obviously a risk worth taking if it meant they’d catch these killers. But what a tremendous risk, an incredible sacrifice. He’d be risking his life, his precious, irreplaceable life. It was the most he could possibly give. And to Joe, it was also the least he could do.

  “Has anyone bothered to thank you for what you’re doing?” Veronica asked, her throat feeling unnaturally tight as she gazed into Joe’s eyes.

  He shrugged, a loose casual move, echoed in his easygoing smile. “If it all works out, I’ll probably get the Ustanzian Medal of Honor.” He glanced down at the rows of Prince Tedric’s medals on his chest and made a face. “Considering Ted’s got four, I’m not sure I want one,” he added. “Even if I can talk ’em out of giving me one, there’ll be some kind of ceremony, and I’ll have to smile for the cameras and shake Ted’s sweaty hand.”

  “And if it doesn’t work out…?” Her voice trembled.

  He shrugged and his smile became a grin. “Then I won’t have to shake Ted’s hand, right?”

  “Joe.”

  He stood up. “Ronnie,” he said, mimicking her intensity. “Lighten up, all right?”

  But she couldn’t. How could she lighten up when tomorrow he might very well be dead? Veronica glanced around the room, aware once again that they were alone. They were alone, and she might never have another chance to hold him in her arms.

  Despite her resolve to stay away from Joe, Veronica stepped toward him, closing the gap between them, slipping her arms around his waist and holding him tightly, resting her head against his shoulder.

  He was shocked. She’d seen the surprise in his eyes. She still felt it in the stiffness and tension in his entire body. Never in a million years had he expected her to put her arms around him.

  As she started to pull back, she lifted her head and she could see a vulnerability deep in his eyes, a flash of almost childlike wonder. But it was gone so quickly, she was left wondering if she hadn’t imagined it.

  He almost didn’t react. Almost didn’t. But before she pulled away, he encircled her with his arms, holding her gently but quite firmly in place. He sighed very softly as he allowed his body to relax against hers.

  Joe couldn’t make himself release her. Veronica was in his arms, and he was damned if he was going to let her go. She fit next to him so perfectly, they might have been made for each other. She was soft in all the right places, and firm in all the others. Holding her like this was heaven.

  Veronica stared up at him, her ocean blue eyes wide.

  There were few things he wanted right this moment as much as he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to plunder her soft, sweet mouth with his tongue. To kiss her deeply, savagely, until she clung to him, dizzy from desire. He wanted to sweep her into his arms and carry her into the bedroom, where he’d undress her with his teeth and kiss every inch of her smooth, supple body before driving himself into her sweet, welcoming warmth.

  He felt nearly delirious just thinking about it—the sheer bliss. And it would start with one small kiss…

  He slowly lowered his head to kiss her.

  Veronica gazed up into his eyes, transfixed, lips slightly parted.

  He was a fraction of a second from paradise, and…she turned her head.

  Joe’s mouth landed on her cheek as she quickly pulled free of his arms.

  Frustration made every muscle in his body tighten. Damn it. What had just happened here? Hell, she’d made the first move. She was the one who’d put her arms around him. And then…

  “Veronica,” he said, reaching for her.

  But she stepped away from him, out of reach, as the door opened and the FInCOM agents and SEALs came back inside.

  “I gotta run, Cat,” Admiral Forrest called out, waving briefly through the open door. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Be good.”

  “Well,” Veronica said, her voice intentionally light as she collected her briefcase. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lieutenant.”

  That was it? She was going to not kiss him and then just walk away?

  She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she made a beeline for the door, and short of running after her and tackling her, there was little that Joe could do to stop her.

  “Thanks again,” Veronica added, and she was out the door.

  “Walk her to her room,” Joe ordered West, suddenly afraid for her, walking alone in the hotel corridor, even the short distance to her own room.

  The man nodded and followed Veronica, closing the door behind him.

  “Thanks again?” Cowboy echoed her departing words. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Joe. “Something happen in here we should know about?”

  Joe shot him one long look. “Stop,” he said.

  Cowboy started to say something else, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

  Thanks again.

  Veronica’s words echoed in Joe’s head. Thanks again.

  She had been thanking him. Of course. When she had put her arms around him, she wasn’t giving in to the attraction that simmered between them. No way. She was thanking him. She was being the generous aristocrat thanking the lowly servant. Damn, he was such a fool.

  Joe had to sit down.

  “Everything all right, Cat?” Blue asked softly in his gentle Southern accent.

  Joe stood again and headed for the bedroom. “Fine,” he answered shortly, keeping his head turned away so his friend wouldn’t see the hurt he knew was showing in his eyes.

  12

  When the embassy party started at nine—twenty-one-hundred hours according to Joe—Veronica was feeling an old pro at handling the equipment in the surveillance van.

  She wore a lightweight wireless headset with an attached microphone positioned directly under her lips. Joe could hear every word she spoke through a miniature receiver hidden in his right ear. And Veronica could hear him quite clearly, too. His wireless mike was disguised as a pin he wore in the lapel of his jacket.

  She could see Joe, too, on a TV screen built into the side panel of the van. Another screen showed a different angle—Joe’s point of view. Both views were courtesy of miniaturized video cameras discreetly held by several FInCOM agents. So far, Veronica hadn’t had much use for the TV screen that showed the world from Joe’s eyes. It would come in handy tonight, though.

  The three SEALs from Alpha Squad were also wearing microphones and earphones patched into the same frequency that Veronica and Joe were using. It was easy to tell Blue’s, Cowboy’s and Harvard’s voices apart, and of course, she would recog