Prince Joe

by Suzanne Brockmann

  "Please," she cried, the words ripped from her throat. "Joe, please! I want morel"

  He covered her mouth with his, kissing her fiercely as he arched his body up and pushed her hips down and filled her completely, absolutely, incredibly.

  The sound she heard herself make was almost inhuman as he plunged into her, filling her again and again and again. The rhythm was frantic, feverish, and Veronica threw back her head, delirious from the sweet sensations exploding inside her as she found her release. Arrows of pleasure shot through her— straight to her heart.

  Joe's fingers stabbed through her hair as he called out her name and she clung to his neck and shoulders. She rode his explosive release, letting his passion carry her higher, even higher, loving the way he held her as if he were never going to let her go.

  And then it was over. Joe sank back on the bed, pulling her down along with him.

  Veronica could feel his heart beating, hear him breathing, feel his arms still tightly around her. She waited, hoping he would be the first to speak.

  But he didn't speak. The silence stretched on and on and on, and through it, Veronica died a thousand times. He was regretting their lovemaking. He was trying to figure out a way to get out of her room with the least amount of embarrassment. He was worrying about the rest of the tour, wondering if she was going to chase after him like a lovesick fool and...

  He sighed. And stretched. And nuzzled the side of her face. Veronica turned toward him and he met her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

  "When can we do this again?" he asked, his voice husky in the quiet. He brushed her hair back so he could see her face.

  His eyes were half-closed, but she could see traces of the ever-present flame still burning.

  He didn't regret what they'd just done. How could he, if he already wanted to know when they'd make love again? She smiled, suddenly feeling ridiculously, foolishly happy. His answering smile was sleepy, and very, very content.

  "You gonna answer my question?" he asked. His eyes opened slightly wider for a second. "Or is that smile my answer?"

  Veronica slowly trailed her fingers down his arm, watching as they followed the contours of his muscles. "Are you in any hurry to leave?" she asked.

  His arms tightened around her. "Nope."

  "Good."

  "Yeah."

  Veronica glanced up at him and saw he was watching her. He smiled again, laughing softly as she met his eyes.

  "What?" she asked.

  "You really want to know?"

  She nodded, making a face at him. "Of course. You look at me and laugh. I should say I'd want to know what you were thinking."

  "Well, I was thinking, who would've guessed that proper Ms. Veronica St. John is a real screamer in bed."

  Veronica laughed, feeling her cheeks heat. "But I'm not," she protested. "I mean, I don't... I mean, I never have before— Made all that... noise, I mean."

  "I loved it," Joe said. "And I love it even more, knowing that I'm the only one who makes you do it." His words were teasing, but his eyes were serious. "It's an incredible turn-on, baby." His voice got lower, softer, more intense. "You're an incredible turn-on."

  "You're embarrassing me," she admitted, pressing her warm cheeks against his shoulder.

  "Perfect," he replied, with his wonderful, husky laugh. "I also love it when you blush."

  Veronica closed her eyes. He loved what she did, he loved when she blushed. What she would have given to hear him say that he loved her.

  "You know what would absolutely kill me?" Joe asked, his voice still low and very, very sexy.

  Oh, dear Lord, she could feel him growing inside her. She felt her body respond, felt her pulse start to quicken.

  "If you danced for me," Joe said, answering his own question.

  Veronica closed her eyes, imagining the nuclear heat that would be generated in the room if she danced for Joe—and only for Joe. She could imagine discarding various articles of clothing until she moved in time to music clad only in the tiniest black panties and the fire from his eyes

  Veronica blushed again. Could she really dance for him that way? Without laughing or feeling foolish?

  Joe hugged her tighter. "No pressure," he said quietly. "I only want you to dance for me if you want to. It's just a fantasy, that's all. I thought I'd share it with you. No big deal. Two out of three's not bad."

  Veronica lifted her head. "Two out of three... ?"

  "Fantasies that have come true," Joe said. He smiled. "The first one was making love to you. The second one was making love to you twice in the same night."

  "But..."

  Joe kissed her sweetly. Then he made his second fantasy come true.

  Chapter 17

  Chicago, Dallas and Houston were a blur. During the day and sometimes in the evening, Veronica sat in the surveillance van, feeding information to Joe via his earphone, praying that the man she loved wasn't about to be killed in front of her very eyes.

  Joe would look into the hidden, miniaturized video cameras and smile—a sweet, hot, secret smile meant only for her.

  At night, Joe came to her room. How he got out from under the watchful eyes of the FInCOM agents, Veronica never knew. How he got into her room was also a mystery. She never heard him. She would just look up, and he'd be there, smiling at her, heat in his eyes.

  In Dallas, he came carrying barbecued chicken, corn on the cob, and a six-pack of beer. He was wearing jeans and T-shirt and an old baseball cap backward on his head. He wouldn't tell her where he got the food and beer, but she had the feeling he'd climbed down the outside of the building to the street below and walked a few blocks over to a restaurant.

  They had a picnic on her living-room floor, and made love before they'd finished eating, right there on the rug in front of the sofa.

  He always stayed until dawn, holding her close. They sometimes talked all night, sometimes slept, always woke up to make love again. But as the sun began to rise, he would vanish.

  Then in Albuquerque, there was another "incident," as Joe called them. Veronica sat in the van, her heart in her throat after one of the FInCOM agents thought he saw a man with a concealed weapon in the crowd outside the TV station where "Tedric" had been interviewed.

  The SEALs and the FInCOM agents had leapt into action, ready to protect Joe. They'd hustled him into the limousine and to safety, but Veronica was shaken.

  She sat in her hotel room, fighting tears, praying Joe would arrive soon, praying his quicksilver smile would make her forget about the danger he was in, day in and day out, as he stood in for the real prince. But she had to remember that he was no stranger to dangerous situations. His entire life was filled with danger and risk. Even if he survived these particular assassins, it would only be a matter of time before he'd be facing some new danger, some other perhaps-even-more-deadly risk.

  How could she let herself love a man who could die—violently—at any given moment?

  "Yo, Ronnie."

  Veronica turned around.

  Joe. There he was, still dressed in his shiny white jacket and dark blue pants, his hair slicked back from his face. He looked tired, but he smiled at her, and she burst into tears.

  He came across the room so quickly, she didn't see him move. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly.

  "Hey," he said. "Hey."

  Embarrassed, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her go-

  "I'm sorry," she said. "Joe, I'm sorry. I just..."

  Joe lifted her chin and kissed her gently on the mouth.

  "I'm all right," he told her, knowing, the way he always did, exactly what she was thinking. "I'm fine. Everything's okay."

  "For right now," she said, looking up into the mysterious midnight depths of his eyes, wiping the tears from her face with the heel of her hand.

  "Yeah," he said, catching a tear that hung on her eyelashes with one finger. "For right now."

  "And tomorrow?" she asked. ''What about tomorrow?" She knew she shouldn't say the wor
ds, but they were right on the tip of her tongue and she couldn't hold them back.

  He gently ran his hand through her hair again and again as he gazed down into her eyes. "You really that worried about me?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite believe her concern.

  "I was scared today," Veronica admitted. She felt her eyes well with tears again and she tried to blink them back.

  "Don't be scared," Joe told her. "Blue and the other guys aren't going to let anything happen to me."

  Nice words and a nice thought, but Blue and Cowboy and Harvard weren't superhuman. They were human, and there was no guarantee one of them wouldn't make a very human mistake.

  Tomorrow at this time, Joe could very well be dead.

  Tomorrow, or next week or next year...

  Reaching up, Veronica pulled his head down and kissed him. She kissed him hard, almost savagely, and he responded instantly, pulling her against his body, lowering his hands to press her hips closer to him.

  She found the buckle of his belt and started to unfasten it, and he lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom.

  Veronica pulled him tightly to her and closed her eyes, trying to shut out her fears. With the touch of his hands, with his mouth and his body against hers, tomorrow didn't exist. There was only here and only now. Only ecstasy.

  But when morning dawned, and Joe crept out of bed trying not to wake her, Veronica still hadn't slept. She watched him dress, then closed her eyes as he kissed her gently on the lips.

  And then he was gone.

  It was not beyond the realm of possibility that he could be gone forever.

  Phoenix, Arizona.

  The April sunshine was blazing hot, reflecting off the streets, heating the air and making it difficult to breathe.

  Inside the protection of the limousine parked on the street in front of the brand-new Arizona Theatre and Centre for the Arts building, Joe was cool and comfortable.

  But he was glad for the sunglasses he wore. Even with them on, even with the tinted glass of the limo, Joe squinted in the brightness as he sat up to get a better look at the morning's location.

  A broad set of shallow steps led to a central courtyard. It was flat and wide and surrounded by a series of marble benches placed strategically in the shade of flowering trees. The lobby of the theatre was directly behind the courtyard, and the Centre for the Arts offices surrounded it on the other two sides.

  There was a stage in the courtyard, set up in the shade of the theatre. That was where Joe—as Tedric—would go for the theatre's dedication ceremony.

  People were already milling around, trying to stay cool in the shade, fanning themselves with copies of the arts centre's events schedule.

  Joe could hear Veronica over his earphone as she sat in the surveillance van.

  "Please test your microphones, Alpha Squad," she said.

  Blue, Cowboy and Harvard all checked in.

  "Lieutenant Catalanotto?" she said, her voice brisk and businesslike.

  "Yo, Ronnie, and how are you this fine morning?" Joe said, even though he'd spent the night with her, even though he'd left her room mere hours earlier and knew exactly how well she was.

  "A simple check would be sufficient," she murmured. "Cameras?"

  Joe grinned into the miniaturized video camera that the FInCOM agent sitting across from him was carrying. God forbid someone should find out about the incredible steamy nights they spent together—the high-class media consultant and the sailor from a lousy part of New Jersey. Veronica always played it so cool in public, often addressing him as "Lieutenant Catalanotto," or "Your Majesty."

  Actually, they'd never talked about whether or not she wanted their relationship to go public. Joe had just assumed she didn't, and had taken precautions to protect her.

  Of course, Blue and Cowboy and Harvard knew where Joe went every night. They had to know. Without their help, it would have been too damned hard to get out from under the FInCOM agents' eyes. But aside from the ribbing he endured when the four SEALs were alone, Joe knew his three friends would never tell a soul. They were SEALs. They knew how to keep a secret.

  And as far as Joe was concerned, Veronica St. John was the best-kept secret he'd ever known.

  She'd been upset last night. That incident in Albuquerque had really shaken her up. She'd actually cried because she'd been so afraid for him. For him. And the way she'd made love to him... as if the world were coming to an end. Oh, man. That had been powerful.

  Joe had thought at first that maybe, just maybe, the impossible had happened and Veronica had fallen in love with him. Why else would she have been so upset? But even though he'd tried to bring up the subject of her concerns for his safety later in the night, she hadn't wanted to talk.

  All she'd wanted was for him to hold her. And then make love to her again.

  Joe smiled at the irony. He falls in love for the first time in his life, and for the first time in his life, he's the one who wants to talk. Yeah, it was true. He had been in bed with a gorgeous, incredibly sexy woman, and what he wanted desperately was to talk after they made love. But all she wanted was more high-energy sex.

  Of course, Joe reminded himself, he sure had suffered, making Veronica happy last night. Oh, yeah. Life should always be so tough.

  Joe closed his eyes briefly, remembering the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her breasts, the sweetness of surrounding himself in her heat, the hot pleasure in her beautiful, bluer-than-the-ocean eyes, the curve of her lips as she smiled up at him, the sound of her ragged cry as he took her with him, over the edge...

  Joe opened his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it quickly out. Oh, yeah. He was going out in public in about thirty seconds. Somehow he seriously doubted that old Ted would appreciate Joe pretending to be the prince with a raging and quite obvious royal hard-on for all the world to see. And he had a job to do, to boot. It was time to go.

  Joe climbed from the limo and felt the sudden rush of heat. It was like opening an oven door. Welcome to Phoenix, Arizona.

  As the FlnCOM agents hustled him across the courtyard, Joe tried to bring himself back to the business at hand. Daydreaming about his lover was good and fine and—

  Lover.

  Veronica St. John was his lover.

  For the past four amazing days and incredible nights, Veronica St. John had been his lover.

  The word conjured up her mysterious smile, the devilish light in her eyes that promised pleasures the likes of which he'd never known before, the softness of her sighs, the feel of her fingers in his hair, their legs intertwined, bodies slippery with soap as they kissed in the hotel's oversize bathtub

  But...

  Did she think of him as her lover? Did she ever even consider the word love when she thought about him?

  God, what he would give to hear her say that she loved him.

  Damn, he was distracted today. He forced himself to look again at the buildings. Pay attention, he ordered himself. Hell of a lot of good it'll do you to realize you're in love with this woman and then get yourself killed.

  Joe looked around him. The roofs of the office buildings were lower than the theatre roof. They were the perfect height and distance from the stage—perfect, that is, for a sniper to shoot from. Of course, the office windows—if they could be opened—wouldn't be a bad choice for a shooter, either.

  Joe snapped instantly alert, instantly on the job.

  Damn, the Arizona Theatre and Centre for the Arts dedication ceremony was the ideal setup for an assassination attempt. The crowd. The TV news cameras. The three buildings, forming a square U, with the courtyard between them. The glare from the sun. The heat making everyone tired and lazy.

  "This is it," Joe murmured.

  "You bet, Cat," Blue's voice came over his earphone. "If I were a tango, I'd pick this one."

  "What?" Veronica asked from her seat in the surveillance truck. "What was that you said?"

  The FInCOM agents were hurrying Joe to the relative safety of the theatre lo
bby. Once inside, he couldn't answer Veronica, because the governor of Arizona was shaking his hand.

  "It's a real honour, Your Majesty," the governor said with his trademark big, wide, white-toothed smile. "I can't tell you how much it means to the people of Arizona to have you here, at the dedication of this very important theatre and arts centre."

  "Dear Lord," Joe heard Veronica say over his earphone. Then there was silence. When she spoke again, her voice was deceptively calm. Joe knew damn well that her calm was only an act. "Joe, you think that the terrorists are going to be here, don't you? Today. Right now."

  Joe couldn't answer. Ronnie had to know that he couldn't answer. She could see him on her video screen. He was standing in a crowd of government officials. She could hear the governor still talking.

  Joe smiled at something the lieutenant governor said, but his mind was focused on the voices of his men from the Alpha Squad—and the woman—his lover—sitting inside the surveillance van.

  "Damn it, Joe," Veronica said, her voice breaking and her calm cracked. "Shake your head. Yes or no. Is there going to be an assassination attempt here this afternoon?"

  Inside the surveillance van, Veronica held her breath, her eyes riveted to the video monitor in front of her. Joe looked directly into the camera, his dark eyes intense—and filled with excitement. He nodded once. Yes.

  Dear God. Veronica took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. As she watched, the governor of Arizona said something, and the entire group of men and women surrounding Joe laughed—Joe included.

  Dear God. She'd actually seen excitement in Joe's eyes. He was excited because something was finally going to happen. He was ready. And willing. Willing to risk his life...

  Her mouth felt dry. She tried to moisten her lips with her tongue, but it didn't help.

  Dear God, don't let him die. "Joe," she said, but then couldn't speak.

  He touched his ear, the sign that he had heard her.