she would recognize the importance old Frank had played in his life, or whether she would shrug it off, uncaring, uninterested.
“Frank was a sailor,” Joe told Veronica. “Tough as nails, and with one hell of a foul mouth. He could swear like no one I’ve ever known. He fought in the Pacific in World War Two, as a frogman, one of the early members of the UDTs, the underwater demolition teams that later became the SEALs. He was rough and crude, but he never turned me away from his door. I helped him pull weeds in his garden in return for the stories he told.”
Veronica was listening intently, so he went on.
“When everyone else I knew told me I was going to end up in jail or worse, Frank O’Riley told me I was destined to become a Navy SEAL—because both they and I were the best of the best.”
“He was right,” Veronica murmured. “He must be very, very proud of you.”
“He’s dead,” Joe said. He watched her eyes fill with compassion, and the noose around his chest grew tighter. He was in big trouble here. “He died when I was fifteen.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
“Frank had one hell of a powerful spirit,” Joe continued, resisting the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her because his friend had died more than fifteen years ago. “Wherever I went and whatever I did for the three years after he died, he was there, whispering into my ear, keeping me in line, reminding me about those Navy SEALs that he’d admired so much. On the day I turned eighteen, I walked into that navy recruitment office and I could almost feel his sigh of relief.”
He smiled at her and Veronica smiled back, gazing into his eyes. Again, time seemed to stand totally still. Again, it was the perfect opportunity to kiss her, and again, Joe didn’t allow himself to move.
“I’m glad you’ve forgiven me, Joe,” she said quietly.
“Hey, what happened to ‘Your Highness’?” Joe asked, trying desperately to return to a more lighthearted, teasing tone. She was getting serious on him. Serious meant being honest, and in all honesty, Joe did not want to be friends with this woman. He wanted to be lovers. He was dying to be her lover. He wanted to touch her in ways she’d never been touched before. He wanted to hear her cry out his name and—
Veronica looked surprised. “I’ve forgotten to call you that, haven’t I?”
“You’ve been calling me Joe lately,” he said. “Which is fine—I like it better. I was just curious.”
“You’re nothing like the real prince,” she said honestly.
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult.”
She smiled. “Believe me, it’s a compliment.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Joe said. “But I wasn’t sure exactly where you stood.”
“Prince Tedric…isn’t very nice,” Veronica said diplomatically.
“He’s a coward and a flaming idiot,” Joe stated flatly.
“I guess you don’t like him very much, either.”
“Understatement of the year, Ronnie. If I end up taking a bullet for him, I’m gonna be really upset.” He smiled grimly. “That is, if you can be upset and dead at the same time.”
Veronica stared at Joe. If he ended up taking a bullet…
For the first time, the reality of what Joe was doing hit her squarely in the stomach. He was risking his life to catch a terrorist. While Tedric spent the next few weeks in the comfort of a safe house, Joe would be out in public. Joe would be the target of the terrorists’ guns.
What if something went wrong? What if the terrorists succeeded, and killed Joe? After all, they’d already managed to kill hundreds and hundreds of people.
Joe suddenly looked so tired. Were his thoughts following the same path? Was he afraid he’d be killed, too? But then he glanced up at Veronica and tried to smile.
“Mind if we skip lunch?” he asked. “Or just postpone it for a half hour?”
Veronica nodded. “We can postpone it,” she said.
Joe stood, heading toward the bedroom. “Great, I’ve gotta crash. I’ll see you in about thirty minutes, okay?”
“Do you want me to wake you?” she asked.
Joe shook his head, no. “Thanks, but…”
Oh, baby, he could just imagine her coming into his darkened bedroom to wake him up. He could just imagine coming out of a deep REM sleep to see that face, those eyes looking down at him. He could imagine reaching for her, pulling her down on top of him, covering her mouth with his…
“No, thanks,” he said again, reaching up with one hand to loosen the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders. “I’ll set the alarm.”
Veronica watched as he closed the bedroom door behind him.
They were running out of time. Despite his reassurances, Veronica didn’t believe that Joe could pull it off.
But those weren’t the only doubts she was having.
Posing as Prince Tedric could very easily get Joe killed.
Were they doing the right thing? Was catching these terrorists worth risking a man’s life? Was it fair to ask Joe to take those risks when Tedric so very clearly wouldn’t?
But out of all those doubts, Veronica knew one thing for certain. She did not want Lieutenant Joe Catalanotto to die.
Chapter Ten
Veronica was ready nearly thirty minutes before the meeting was set to start.
She checked herself in the mirror for the seven thousandth time. Her jacket and skirt were a dark olive green. Her silk blouse was the same color, but a subtle shade lighter. The color was a perfect contrast for her flaming-red hair, but the suit was boxy and the jacket cut to hide her curves.
Joe would call it a Margaret Thatcher suit. And he was right. It made her look no-nonsense and reliable, dependable and businesslike.
So, all right, it wasn’t the height of fashion. But she was sending out a clear message to the world. Veronica St. John could get the job done.
Except, in a few minutes, Veronica was going to have to walk out the hotel-room door and head down the corridor to the private conference room attached to Senator McKinley’s suite. She was going to go into the meeting and sit down at the table without the slightest clue whether or not she had actually gotten this particular job done.
She honestly didn’t know whether or not she’d been able to pull off the task of turning Joe Catalanotto into a dead ringer for Prince Tedric.
Dead ringer. What a horrible expression. And if the security team of FInCOM agents didn’t protect Joe, that’s exactly what he’d be. Dead. Joe, with his dancing eyes and wide, infectious smile…All
