Seal Team Ten

by Brockmann, Suzanne

  He was the prince. Veronica tried to tell herself that she was now convinced of that fact, yet doubt lingered.

  "But, Your Majesty," Kevin Laughton chimed in. "It's just not safe." He looked over at the FInCOM agents who had ar­rived with the prince. "I must be told of any movement." He looked more closely at the men and a funny look crossed his face. Veronica tried to follow his gaze, to see what he saw, but he quickly looked back at the prince, his face once again ex­pressionless.

  "If there was something you needed," Henri Freder, the Ustanzian ambassador, interjected, "ail you had to do was ask, Your Majesty. We will provide you with all your requests, I can assure you."

  "Sit, please, sit. Sit, sit," the prince said impatiently.

  Everyone sat. Except the prince. He stood pointedly next to Senator McKinley's seat at the head of the table.

  Rather belatedly, McKinley realized his mistake. He hastily stood and offered the prince his chair, moving around to one of the empty seats on the side of the oval table.

  On the other side of the room, one of the FInCOM agents coughed. When Veronica glanced at him, he gave her a quick wink. It was Cowboy-—one of the SEALs from Joe's Alpha Squad. At least, she thought it was. She did a double take, but when she looked again, he was gone.

  She turned and stared at the man who was settling himself in the now vacant chair at the head of the table. 'Til need some­thing to write on and a pen," he announced to no one in par­ticular. "And a glass of water."

  Had she imagined Cowboy standing there? Was this really Joe, or was it Prince Tedric? Veronica honestly did not know.

  Around her, all of the aides and assistants were scrambling. One of them provided the prince with a smooth white pad of paper, another with a plastic ballpoint pen that the prince sim­ply looked at in disdain. Yes, he had to be the real prince. No one could possibly imitate that disgusted look, could they? Another assistant produced a gold-plated fountain pen, which the prince took with a nod, and yet another presented him with a tall, ice-filled glass of water.

  "Thank you," he said, and Veronica sat up.

  Thank you? Those words weren't in Tedric's vocabulary. At least, Veronica had never heard him say them before.

  Senator McKinley was giving the prince a detailed report on all that had been done over the past several days, and on the changes to the scheduled tour.

  Veronica stared down the table at the man now sitting at its head. Prince Tedric never said thank-you. This man was Joe. It had to be Joe. But... he didn't look or act or sound any­thing like the Joe she was starting to know so well.

  The prince took a sip of his water, removed the cap from his pen.

  This would prove it. Joe was left-handed; the prince only used his right.

  The prince took the pen in his right hand and jotted a quick note on his pad of paper.

  Oh, my God, it wasn't Joe. It was the prince. Unless...

  As the senator continued to talk, the prince tore the piece of paper from the pad and folded it neatly in half. He glanced over his shoulder and one of the aides was instantly behind him. He handed the aide the piece of paper and whispered a few words into the young man's ear before turning back to Senator McKinley.

  Veronica watched as the aide came around the table, di- rectly toward her. The young man handed her the folded piece of paper.

  "From Prince Tedric," the aide whispered almost sound­lessly in her ear.

  She glanced down the table toward the prince, but he wasn't paying her the slightest attention. He was absently twisting his ring as he listened to McKinley.

  Why would Prince Tedric write her a note?

  Hardly daring to breathe, she unfolded the paper.

  "Hey, Ronnie,” she read, printed in big, childish block let­ters. "How'm I doing? Love, Prinice Joe."

  Veronica laughed. Aloud. McKinley stopped talking mid-sentence. The entire table turned and looked at her. Including Joe, who gave her a withering look, identical to those she'd re­ceived from Prince Tedric in the past. "It's Joe," she said.

  Nobody understood. They all just stared at her as if she'd gone mad—except Kevin Laughton, who was nodding, a small smile on his face, and Admiral Forrest, who was rocking back in his seat and chuckling.

  Veronica gestured down toward the head of the table, to­ward Joe. "This is not Prince Tedric," she explained. "It's Lieutenant Catalanotto. Gentlemen, he's fooled us all."

  Everyone started talking all at once.

  The prince's haughty expression turned into a slow, friendly smile as he gazed down the table at Veronica. His cold eyes turned warm. Oh, yes, this was definitely Joe.

  "You're amazing," she mouthed to him. She knew he wouldn't be able to hear her over the din, but she had no doubt he could read her lips. She wouldn't be surprised to find there was nothing Joe Catalanotto couldn't do, and do well.

  He shrugged. "I'm a SEAL," he mouthed back, as if that explained everything.

  "I knew it was the lieutenant," Veronica heard Kevin Laughton say. "But only because I knew three of the men who came in with him weren't on my staff."

  "I knew it was him, too," Senator McKinley's loud voice boomed. "I was waiting to see when y'all would catch on."

  Still, Veronica gazed into Joe's dark eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" she silently asked.

  "I did," he answered.

  And he was right. He had told her. "Don't worry, I'll get it," he'd said. "I'm a pretty good mimic."

  Pretty good?

  Veronica laughed. He was amazing.

  Joe smiled back at her as everyone around them continued to talk at once. But they might have been alone in this room, for all the attention she paid anyone else.

  That was admiration he could see in Veronica's blue eyes. Admiration and respect. She wasn't trying to hide it. She was sending him a message with her eyes as clear as the one she'd sent with her lips.

  Joe could also see traces of the attraction she was never re­ally able to conceal. It was always back there, lurking, waiting patiently for the moment when her defenses were down, wait­ing for her to temporarily forget that he wasn't a regular of the country-club set.

  And, God, he was waiting, too.

  Except she wasn't going to forget. It was only at times like this, when they were safely across the room from each other, that Veronica gazed into his eyes. It was only when she was safely out of reach that she let him drown in the swirling ocean-blueness of her eyes.

  It didn't take much to imagine what being Veronica St. John's lover would be like, to see her with her red curls tum­bled down her back, dressed only in the skimpiest of satin and lace, desire turning her sea-colored eyes to blue flames. As Joe gazed into her eyes, he felt himself going under for the third and final time.

  He wanted her so desperately, he was nearly dizzy with de­sire. Somehow, some way, he was going to change her mind, break through that flimsy wall she'd thrown up between them.

  Admiral Forrest raised his voice to be heard over the noise. "I think this meeting can be adjourned," he said. "We can announce to the press that Prince Tedric's tour will resume as of oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow. Are we in agreement?"

  Veronica reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the molten lava of Joe's gaze. Her heart was pounding. Good Lord, the way that man looked at her! If they had been alone, he would have kissed her again. Or if he hadn't, maybe she would have kissed him!

  Lord save her from herself.

  She shuffled the papers in front of her, attempting to regain her equilibrium as the room slowly cleared.

  Senator McKinley shook her hand briefly, commending her on a job well-done before he rushed off to another appoint­ment.

  Veronica could feel Joe's eyes still on her as he stood and talked to Admiral Forrest. The FlnCOM men tried to escort them out of the room, but Joe hung back, clearly waiting for her.

  Taking a deep breath, she gathered her briefcase and went to join them.

  Joe was looking down at the ring on his hand. "Did you know this ring
is worth more than a new car?" he mused. "And did you know old Ted has about twenty of 'em?"

  Mac Forrest grinned at Veronica, slapping Joe on the back one more time as they walked down the hotel corridor. "You couldn't tell it was Joe, could you?" Forrest asked her.

  Veronica glanced up at Joe. She wasn't prepared for the jolt of warmth and energy that surrounded her as she met his dark eyes. He was smiling at her, and she found herself smiling foolishly back, until she realized the Admiral had asked her a question. She tore her eyes away.

  "No, sir, I couldn't," she answered hoping that she didn't sound as breathless as she felt. "Except..."

  "What?" Joe asked.

  She looked up at him, bracing herself before meeting his hypnotizing eyes again. "You said 'Thank you,'" she replied. "Tedric wouldn't dream of thanking a servant."

  "Well, maybe ol’ Ted's been reading up on the American version of Miss Manners," Joe said. "Because for the next five weeks, he's going to be saying 'thank you' to all the lowly ser­vants. And maybe even 'please,' every now and then."

  "That's fine with me. I think everyone should say thank-you. I think it's rude not to," Veronica said.

  "The equipment you ordered is coming in late tonight," Admiral Forrest said to Joe. "It'll be ready for tomorrow."

  "We leave the hotel at oh-eight-hundred?" Joe asked.

  Veronica dug into her briefcase and checked the schedule. "That's right," she said. "There're a number of public ap­pearances—just visual things—a chance for the news reporters to get footage of you climbing in and out of limousines and waving. Tomorrow night there's an optional embassy func­tion, if you feel up to it. There will be people there who know Tedric quite well, though. You'll have to be ready to recognize them."

  "Can you recognize them?" Joe asked.

  "Well, yes," Veronica said. "Of course. But—"

  “Then I'm ready," he said with a grin.

  "We've ordered a surveillance van," Admiral Forrest said to her. "You'll have the seat of honor at the main mike. Joe will wear an earphone and a microphone so the communication can go both ways. He'll hear you and you'll hear him. And we'll have miniature video cameras set up, so you'll be able to see both Joe and from Joe's point of view."

  They stopped outside the royal suite, waiting while West went inside to make a quick security sweep. "All clear," he said, coming back out. The entire group moved into the room.

  Admiral Forrest clasped Joe's hand again. "Good job, son." He nodded at Veronica. "You, too, missy." He glanced at his watch. "I've got to make some status reports." As Mac turned to leave, he shook his finger at Joe. "No more unauthorized field trips down the outside of the building," he admonished. "No more games." He turned to the other SEALs, Blue, Cowboy and Harvard, who were standing by the door with the FInCOM agents. "You're on the same side as security now," he said to them. "You make sure Lieutenant Catalanotto stays secure. Have I made myself clear?"

  "I gave them liberty tonight, Admiral," Joe interjected. "I figured—"

  "You figured wrong," Forrest said. "As of thirty minutes ago, this operation has started."

  Cowboy clearly wasn't happy about that.

  The admiral opened the door to the hallway. "As a matter of fact, I need to see this security team in the corridor, pronto."

  "But, sir—" Cowboy started.

  "That was an order, Ensign," Forrest barked.

  Still, the three SEALs didn't move until Joe gave them an almost-imperceptible nod.

  The door closed behind them and the room was suddenly si­lent.

  "What was that about?" Veronica asked Joe, suddenly aware of how close they were standing, of how delicious he smelled, of how he managed to make even that ridiculous white jacket look good.

  He gave her one of his familiar sheepish smiles as he sat on the arm of the sofa. "I think Mac's realized that Diosdado could get lucky and take me out," he said. "He doesn't want to lose the commanding officer of the Alpha Squad."

  "He doesn't want to lose a friend," Veronica corrected him.

  "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 US. 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 sacri-fice. 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 Jem 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 rig
ht 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.