the waiter and Veronica had had a good laugh about Joe before he’d arrived.
“This is unnecessary,” he said, turning back to look at Veronica. Man, she looked pretty in that blue dress. Her hair was tied back with some kind of ribbon, and—Forget about her, he told himself harshly. She was just some rich girl who’d made it more than clear that they lived in two different worlds, and there was no crossing the border. He was stupid and ignorant, and kissing him had been a mistake. “Believe it or not, I already know which fork is for the salad and which fork is for the dessert. It might come as a shock to you, but I also know how to use a napkin and drink from a glass.”
Veronica actually looked surprised, her blue eyes growing even wider. “Oh,” she said. “No. No, I knew that. That’s not what this is.” She let a nervous laugh escape. “You actually thought I thought I’d need to teach you how to eat?”
Joe was not amused. “Yeah.”
My God, he was serious. He was standing there, his powerful arms folded across his broad chest, staring at her with those mystifying dark eyes. Veronica remembered that flash of hurt in Joe’s eyes when they’d argued in the exercise room. What had she said? She’d called him stupid and ignorant. Oh, Lord. She still couldn’t believe those words had come out of her mouth.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“I owe you an apology,” Veronica explained. “I was very angry this afternoon, and I said some things I didn’t mean. The truth is, I was frustrated and angry with myself. I was the one who fell asleep. It was all my fault, and I tried to take it out on you. I shouldn’t have. I am sorry.”
Joe looked at the waiter and then at the FInCOM agents who were sitting on the sofa, listening to every word. He crossed to the door and opened it invitingly. “You guys mind stepping outside for a sec?”
The FInCOM agents looked at each other and shrugged. Rising to their feet, they crossed to the door and filed out into the corridor. Joe turned to the waiter. “You, too, pal.” He gestured toward the open door. “Take a hike.”
He waited until the waiter was outside, then closed the door tightly and crossed back to Veronica. “You know, these guys will give you privacy if you ask for it,” he said.
She nodded. “I know,” she said. She lifted her chin slightly, steadily meeting his gaze. “It’s just…I was rude to you in public, I felt I should apologize to you in public, too.”
Joe nodded, too. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. That sounds fair.” He looked at her, and there was something very close to admiration in his eyes. “That sounds really fair.”
Veronica felt her own eyes flood with tears. Oh, damn, she was going to cry. If she started to cry, she was going to feel once more just how gentle Joe’s hard-as-steel arms could be. And Lord, she didn’t want to be reminded of that. “I am sorry,” she said, blinking back the tears.
Oh, damn, Veronica was going to cry, Joe thought as he took a step toward her, then stopped himself. No, she was trying hard to hide it. It was better if he played along, if he pretended he didn’t notice. But, man, the sight of those blue eyes swimming in tears made his chest ache, reminding him of this morning, when he’d held her in his arms. Reminding him of that unbelievable kiss…
Veronica forced a smile and held out her hand to him. “Still friends?” she asked.
Friends, huh? Joe had never had a friend before that he wanted to pull into his arms and kiss the living daylights out of. As he gazed into her eyes, the attraction between them seemed to crackle and snap, like some living thing.
Veronica was okay. She was a decent person—the fact that she’d apologized proved that. But she came from miles on the other side of the railroad tracks. If their relationship became intimate, she’d still be slumming. And he’d be…
He’d be dreaming about her every night for the rest of his life.
Joe let go of Veronica’s hand as if he’d been stung. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, where had that thought come from…?
“Are you all right?” The concern in her eyes was genuine.
Joe stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Sorry. I guess I’m…After we do this dining thing, I’m going to take another short nap.”
“A three-minute nap this time?” Veronica asked. “Or maybe you’ll splurge, and sleep for five whole minutes…?”
Joe smiled, and she gave him an answering smile. Their gazes met and held. And held and held and held.
With another woman, Joe would have closed the gap between them. With another woman, Joe would have taken two short steps and brought them face to face. He would have brushed those stray flame-colored curls from the side of her beautiful face, then lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to meet hers.
He had tasted her lips before. He knew how amazing kissing Veronica could be.
But she wasn’t another woman. She was Veronica St. John. And she’d already made it clear that sex wasn’t on their agenda. Hell, if a kiss was a mistake, then making love would be an error of unbelievable magnitude. And the truth was, Joe didn’t want to face that kind of rejection.
So Joe didn’t move. He just gazed at her.
“Well,” she said, slightly breathlessly, “perhaps we should get to work.”
But she didn’t cross toward the dining table, she just gazed up at him, as if she, too, were caught in some kind of force field and unable to move.
Veronica was beautiful. And rich. And smart. But more than just book smart. She was people smart, too. Joe had seen her manipulate a tableful of high-ranking officials. She couldn’t have done that on an Ivy League diploma alone.
He didn’t know the first thing about her, Joe realized. He didn’t know where she came from, or how she’d gotten here, to Washington, D.C. He didn’t know how she’d come to work for the crown prince of Ustanzia. He didn’t know why she’d remained, even after the assassination attempt, when most civilians would have headed for the hills and safety.
“What’s your angle?” Joe asked.
Veronica blinked. “Excuse me?”
He reworded the question. “Why are you here? I mean, I’m here to help catch Diosdado, but what are you getting out of this?”
She looked out the window at the afternoon view of the capital city. When she glanced back at Joe, her smile was rueful. “Beats me,” she said. “I’m not getting paid nearly half enough, although it could be argued that working for royalty is a solid career boost. Of course, it all depends on whether we can successfully pass you off as Prince Tedric.”
She sank down onto the couch and looked up at him, elbow on her knee, chin in her hand. “We have less than six hours before the committee makes a decision.” She shook her head and laughed humorlessly. “Instead of becoming more like Tedric, you seem more different from him than when we started. I look at you, Joe, and you don’t even look like the prince anymore.”
Joe
