“You wouldn’t want me to put Paloma away though, would you?” Alejandro smiled, sliding his arm around Joe’s waist. “I think you have a secret little crush on her.”
“She is rather gorgeous!” Joe blushed. “I’m looking forward to her show tomorrow. Paloma’s the only woman I’ve ever fancied, but seeing as you’re inside her, that shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“And it won’t surprise you to know that I’ve never been inside another woman.” Alejandro frowned. “Oh, I was inside Mamá but— Oh my God, that sounds horrific!” He laughed then, and brought his hand down to administer a gentle smack on Joe’s bottom. “You make me too silly!”
Joe giggled. Actually giggled. When had he ever done that before? “Don’t worry, by the way. I wouldn’t ask you to get gussied up as Paloma in bed. I can’t imagine that would be very comfortable to sleep in. And you’d get make-up all over the pillows.”
“A gorgeous shroud of Turin!” Alejandro giggled too but his hand didn’t retreat from Joe’s bottom. Instead it lingered and he gave an experimental squeeze as he declared, “Oh my God. There are muscles here too!”
Joe’s body had never been so thoroughly appreciated before. He tensed his buttocks, then relaxed them again. “Did you like that? Shall I do it again?”
“If it’s no trouble, Osito,” came that Paloma-esque purr again. “Is this what the British call platonic?”
“Yes, we’re a naughty bunch, we Brits! I’m sure all you sexy Mediterranean types are surprised!” Joe tensed his buttocks again, then once more. “Firm, isn’t it? It’s all those squats I do.”
“If you ever need someone to hold your towel in the gym… You’re all firm and gorgeous!” Alejandro squeezed his hand on Joe’s bottom again, giving a theatrical shiver of delight. “I just want to stroke you all over!”
Joe moaned with pleasure. “I wish you would.” He shuffled closer, but his erection prodded Alejandro’s thigh. “Sorry!”
“Paloma has a show tomorrow and that means Alejandro must behave tonight. I could stay up all night and kiss every inch of you, but those brave seamen wouldn’t thank me for it!” Alejandro kissed Joe’s nose. “I prescribe a glass of wine and some cuddles for my lovely Sergeant Wenlock.”
Stay up all night?
Now there’s a thought.
“Wine.” Joe nodded. “Let’s get stuck in with the wine.”
Joe reached over for the opened bottle he’d sat by the bed. The rich, dark scent of a distant sunny vineyard filled his senses. Alejandro handed him the two crystal glasses from his own side of the bed but his face had darkened, the hint of a frown there as he asked in a voice small with trepidation, “Have I made you angry?”
Joe glanced up to meet Alejandro’s gaze as he poured the wine. He was perfectly happy and wondered what in his demeanour had made Alejandro think he was angry. But some people thought that about a toned man like Joe, that his muscles indicated he was harbouring simmering aggression.
“No, you haven’t at all. I’m sorry. I’m halfway to bulky, I don’t mean to look intimidating. Unless I have to.”
“Intimidating? I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met, and the sweetest too,” Alejandro admitted. Then he shook his head and smiled, the tension in his face melting away. He nodded towards the neat plaster on his shoulder, a memory of Zak’s furious tantrum. “All those bad choices of mine, I’m sorry. I’m not used to being with someone as lovely as you.”
Joe shook his head as he passed Alejandro his glass of wine. “Oh, darling, I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.” Joe put the bottle back on the table and took a sip of the strong, velvety wine. “That’s what I like about you, and this wine. Uncompromising. Unambiguous. Forcing you to— No. I never would. And where’s the fun if you’re not both enjoying it? I can wait. To be honest, I’m pretty pleased we’re even sat here in bed like this!”
“Am I really your darling?”
“Is it a bit too early for that?” Joe ruffled Alejandro’s hair. “I’m not very good at this.”
“It’s not too early. We’ve been together all day, every day, and look how well we’re getting on.” He took a sip of wine then raised his glass. “To my Sarge and all those wonderful firm bits!”
“To Alejo and Paloma and fringed shorts!” Joe clinked his glass against Alejandro’s. “My darling Alejo, that is.”
“And kisses. Oodles of them.”
“I should think so too.” Joe kissed Alejandro’s cheek. But even that didn’t seem platonic anymore. And one day they wouldn’t be CPO and principal, but something more. Exactly what, Joe didn’t dare to imagine, but wherever life took them, this seemed like a good start. The little bear and bull looked on approvingly from the dressing table, their gold braid bows shining in the moonlight, and Alejandro snuggled against Joe again, his sigh of contentment the only sound in the silent night.
Chapter Fifteen
With Alejandro, Joe felt more like a married man, as half of a couple, than he ever had with Wendy. They pottered quite happily in the royal mistress’ apartment, enjoying a late breakfast after waking up in bed together.
Joe checked in with Control to let them know the night had passed without event, as far as he would let them know, at least. And Leviticus had been quiet in the world outside the castle’s walls too.
Alejandro insisted on making the vast bed in which they had spent the night before he pranced into Joe’s room and ruffled that bedding too. Then he remade it, giving every impression that the men had spent their respective nights alone, as their professional relationship dictated. Together they sat at the table as Joe finished his breakfast, Alejandro’s attention on the luxuriant red, white and blue wig that he had created for Paloma’s charity debut. As they chatted, he worked with pins, combs and what seemed like an entire bottle of hairspray to tease the glossy mane into his planned victory rolls.
“I’m going to chignon the back.” Alejandro looked up at Joe over the glossy hair. Then he threw his hand to his head in a perky, rather feminine salute. “For all my brave boys above and below the waves!”
Joe had watched with fascination as Paloma’s hair came into being. He really had no idea how Alejandro did it. It was if he had magic in his touch. “I have no idea what a chignon is, but I’m sure the salty seamen will love it.”
“And I don’t have a single seaman joke in my patter.” He laughed as the sound of a buzzing phone interrupted the chatter. “Is that you, Osito? Are you vibrating?”
“Yes, with excitement.” Joe kissed Alejandro’s cheek, then checked his phone. Patrick’s name appeared on the screen. “Got to take this,” he said, swiping the screen to answer. Alejandro dismissed him with a regal wave of his comb, then went back to his hairpins.
Joe went over to one of the large windows that overlooked the gardens. If this was serious, he didn’t want Alejandro knowing at once. “Commander—good morning. Are there any developments?”
“Well, the PM gave me a right royal carpeting, which was rather akin to being savaged by a piqued hamster,” Patrick told him laconically. “I suppose I deserved it. I of all people should know that you don’t get too close to one of those suspicious packages our lunatic friends are so fond of!”
“Yeah, you do have experience in that area. Like me and cars on pavements!” Joe gazed out at the mist-shrouded view of the lawn and the trees. It looked like a painting. “No news on ID’ing Leviticus yet? Other than having a person of interest?”
“We have one or two new avenues, including Peanut’s current partner, who has apparently gone to ground. That doesn’t go in his favour.” Joe felt a fresh swell of anger at Zak, whether he was Leviticus or not. “And don’t worry about Wendy. Your house has been made secure and we’ve taken measures to ensure that she’s protected. Leviticus has contacted some media outlets to claim responsibility for the bomb. It may make the press but I think that might be in our interests, Joe. Somebody out there knows something.”
Exasperated, Joe scra
ped his hand through his hair. “Someone definitely does. So you think media attention will help?” Joe lowered his voice, hoping Alejandro wouldn’t hear. “I know this isn’t my area, but shouldn’t we ask Peanut if he wants the media all over this? Personal stuff might come out that he’s not comfortable with.”
“These aren’t the old days, Joe, we can’t hold back the press. All we can do is spin it our way. The royal household will have advisors to help him but…is there something I need to know?” From across the room Joe heard Alejandro give his wig another spray of lacquer. “If there’s anything, you need to tell me now.”
The video.
Joe leaned against the wall, winded. Alejandro hadn’t told Patrick about it. He’d wanted to keep it quiet, but if Leviticus was Zak, then maybe the media already had the video?
“I…” Joe turned to watch Alejandro, lost in his work. He clenched his fist. Bloody Zak. “I’ll have a word with Alejandro, just to make sure. But I doubt there’s anything. Maybe there might be something really insignificant, but you know what the press are like. If one of the papers decides to take the moral high ground and mount one of their hypocritical, self-righteous campaigns, they rip people apart over the slightest thing.”
“See if you can sound Peanut out, Joe, just in case. We don’t want to be blindsided.”
“Will do.” Although Joe wouldn’t be mentioning it today. He wasn’t going to dampen Alejandro’s excitement for that night’s performance by reminding him of Zak’s blackmail. “There’s nothing to report here. Peanut’s got his show tonight, but there’ll be plenty of security. And unless Leviticus is a retired submarine captain, I think we should be all right.” Joe bit his lip, then asked, “And you’re okay, you’re sure? I was worried after that bomb caught you. I know what it’s like. Flashbacks. They’re horrible when they get stirred up again. You’re okay?”
“Even a broken back couldn’t stop me, Joe. A bit of smoke isn’t going to put this old dog out of action just yet.” He heard the smile in Patrick’s voice. “You look after that charge of yours, he’s a good lad.”
“Will do, sir. And thanks for making sure Wendy’s protected. I still care about her, even if she and I… Anyway, thank you for looking after her.”
“That’s what I do,” the commander replied. “Queen and country, Joe, it’s what makes us British.”
And what makes Alejandro Spanish? Fine wine and his elegant toes, perhaps.
“Right. I’ll be in contact as I soon as I have any news. Speak to you soon.”
Joe ended the call and headed back to the table, kissing the top of Alejandro’s head as he sat down beside him. “Commander Holloway says hello.”
“He’s nice, isn’t he?” Alejandro said. “Not nice nice. Just nice. He thinks the world of you, you know.”
“Do you think so?” Joe felt flattered at the idea, of the mighty commander thinking so much of a mere sergeant. “I owe him a lot, really. Poor guy.”
Joe topped up his tea and offered the pot to Alejandro. He nodded Joe on and said, “He can move when he needs to, though. You should’ve seen how fast he bundled me out into the car.”
Joe could only guess at the pain Patrick must’ve endured to get their principal to safety, despite his own grumbling injuries. He nearly over-filled Alejandro’s cup. “You know it should’ve been me who got blown up, don’t you?”
And he saw right away that Alejandro had misunderstood. His jaw dropped, his eyes widened and he said, “You? No, Osito, don’t think that. It was meant for me, not you!”
Joe held Alejandro’s hand. “I don’t mean yesterday. I mean, the bomb that injured Commander Holloway. The one that nearly killed him. He was covering my shift, because…” Joe looked into Alejandro’s large, dark eyes. His gaze was so open and honest. “My dad died of a stroke. A massive stroke that came out of the blue. Mum rang, and said he was in the hospital and things were looking bad, and if I wanted to say goodbye to him—and Patrick—I mean Commander Holloway—covered for me. Coppers stick together. So I went to the hospital, and Dad passed away. Then the next thing I knew, Patrick was almost at death’s door too. You have no idea how guilty I felt about that. I still do, Alejandro. It should be me hobbling about with a stick, not the commander.”
“I had no idea.” He reached out and stroked the back of his hand down Joe’s cheek. “My God.”
“I don’t even know if my dad was aware of me sitting there next to his bed.” Joe leaned into Alejandro’s touch and closed his eyes. “I just kept thinking of my mum. She could’ve lost both of us on the same day.”
“I don’t want to think about a world with you in it,” Alejandro whispered.
“Without wishing to frighten you, it’s come close a couple of times, Alejo.” Joe looked at Alejandro again. “It’s not a particularly safe job. I’m sat here having breakfast with you wearing my covert vest. It’s not likely anything would happen, but if an assailant came through the window right now, like the SAS, my training would kick in and I’d put myself between you and harm’s way. I wouldn’t hesitate.”
“I never thought… It doesn’t happen often, though? They’ll have to get past me to reach you!”
“Not too often, no.” Joe smiled at the thought of him and Alejandro having to fight each other to get into harm’s way to protect the other. “It’s nice to be looked after, isn’t it?”
“It’s nice to have someone worth looking after,” Alejandro replied. “I’ve become very fond of my Sergeant Osito.”
“And protocol be damned,” Joe whispered as he brought his lips to Alejandro’s in a tender kiss. It was so deliciously right, and it wouldn’t have to be a secret forever. One day they could be Joe and Alejo, and that fondness they felt for each other could blossom into who knew what.
* * * *
Joe laid his tux out on the bed. He hadn’t worn it for a while, not since he was working for the duchess. It wasn’t as shimmery as the blue suit he’d had on yesterday, but he knew Alejandro would love it.
“Let me know if you need a hand!” he had called to Alejandro. Of course he didn’t, and Joe wouldn’t have known how to pull a corset tight even if he’d been given an extensive instruction manual. But a CPO should always be willing to come to their principal’s aid. Whoever had come up with that little titbit had never met Alejandro.
“Even I can’t make half-drag look gorgeous,” had been Alejandro’s reply, but somehow he doubted that was true. Alejandro could make anything look gorgeous, from fringed shorts to housework. It was in his genes.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” Joe told him. “I can’t wait to escort this evening’s star turn to the party.”
“Close your eyes,” Alejandro called from his room. “And don’t open them until I say so!”
“All right.” Joe wandered into the hallway of the apartment, hands over his eyes. “I’m waiting, Ms Picante!”
“Admiral Picante,” corrected Paloma’s gentle voice. “Reporting for duty!”
Joe dropped his hands from his face and was transfixed at once by the vision in the doorway before him. “Good evening, Admiral Picante. Very good evening!”
“Good evening, 007,” she teased, sweeping her gaze over his tux, but Joe’s eyes were all for Paloma. The salute she was holding was just the right side of cheeky, like something from a World War Two cheesecake shot, one eye flickering into a long-lashed wink. Now he could see exactly what Alejandro had been creating at his sewing machine all those hours as Paloma stood before him in her handmade uniform, the white fabric and gold buttons utterly pristine. He had promised to keep it classy for Abuelito and had more than kept that promise in a figure-hugging pencil skirt that fell to just below her knee, revealing a shapely calf clad in nylons, the mermaid shoes on her feet. The jacket seemed like a miracle of engineering, nipped in at the waist to show off that impressive figure whilst beneath it there was just the hint of Mediterranean bosom showing, but not so much that it would be a danger to any of Paloma’s old soldiers.
And atop the tricolour hair with its extravagant victory rolls was an officer’s cap, all of it set off with her signature glittering lips, the same sparkling red that Joe had kissed on Halloween. And in her buttonhole, that white rose that bore his hidden monogram.
“How do I look?”
Joe couldn’t stop grinning. “Just fantastic. And I’d come right over there and hug you if I wasn’t worried it’d spoil that outfit. Ready for your public, Admiral?”
“Selfie first? This one has to go on my Insta!” Paloma held up her phone. “Come on, Bond, snuggle your Bond girl.”
Joe was beside Paloma in a moment, his arm around her nipped-in waist. He rested his chin on Paloma’s shoulder, then moved away slightly. “Can’t make it look too much like we’re on smooching terms, can we?”
“Better not. Professionally friendly but not thinking about my lovely feet, how’s that?”
Oh, those feet.
“No, I’m not thinking about them at all. Nope.” Joe stared at the unblinking black circle of the camera lens. Such lovely feet. “Ready.”
The camera shutter snapped and she showed him the photo. They looked happy, but not overly so, even with Paloma’s red pouting lips. Nothing that would raise questions. “Do you like? Hashtag Alej007!”
Joe did his best effort at a James Bond eyebrow quirk. “Very funny, Admiral Picante.” Then he offered her his arm. “May I?”
She replied silently, slipping her arm through his. Then, together, they went to greet Paloma’s public. And her step-grandparents.
They headed through the castle to St George’s Hall. It wasn’t the first time Joe had been there, but the room was magnificent, a faux Mediaeval fantasy of carved wooden panels, knights in armour, and noble crests painted on the ceiling. And Joe was infected by Paloma’s pre-performance excitement. As they entered the room everyone, old seamen and royalty alike, turned to look at Paloma.
And Joe was more fortunate than he could ever have imagined to be at her side.
Alejandro was sparkly enough but as Paloma, he was magical. Irresistibly so. Before she had even sung a note, she was welcomed by the veterans, from the youngest to the oldest, as though she was the most wonderful creature they had ever met. The illusion was complete, Joe knew. Paloma Picante wasn’t just a man in drag, she was a bona fide forces’ sweetheart.
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