t was after nine o’clock in the evening—twenty-one hundred hours—before Veronica’s phone rang.

She’d been busy all afternoon and evening with meetings and debriefings. She’d worked with Ambassador Freder and Senator McKinley, scheduling the remainder of Prince Tedric’s tour. A report had come in from FInCOM that made them all breathe easier. The assassin had been ID’d as Salustiano Vargas—Diosdado’s former right-hand man. Former. Apparently the two terrorists had parted ways, and Vargas was no longer connected with the Cloud of Death. He had been acting on his own. Why? No one seemed to know. At least not yet. At any rate, Vargas was dead. He’d be giving them no answers.

But now that the assassin was no longer a threat, the ambassador and senator wanted to get the tour back on track. Tedric was flying in from the District of Columbia. He would meet them all in Seattle in the morning, where they would board a cruise ship to Alaska. They would finish the tour with a flourish.

Security would return to near normal. Two or three Fin COM agents would remain, but everyone else, including the SEALs— including Joe—would go home.

At dinnertime, Veronica had searched for Joe, but was told he was in high-level security debriefings. She returned to her room to pack, but couldn’t stop thinking. What if he didn’t get finished before morning? Sometimes those meetings went on ail night. What if she didn’t see him before she had to leave…?

But then, at nine o’clock, the phone rang. Veronica closed her eyes, then picked it up. “Hello?‘’

“Yo, Ronnie.”

“Joe.” Where are you? When will you be here? She clamped her mouth tightly shut over those words. She didn’t own him. She may have given her feelings away this morning when she’d told him—and the entire world—that she loved him, but she could stake no claim on his time or his life.

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked.

“No, I was…” Waiting for you. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“Think you’ll be hungry in about twenty minutes?” he asked.

“Hungry for what?” She tried to make her voice sound light, teasing, but her heart felt heavy. No matter how she approached this relationship, the conclusion she kept coming to was that it wasn’t going to work out. Tomorrow they were both heading in different directions, and that would be it. All that was left was tonight. She’d been so worried earlier that she wasn’t going to get to spend this final night with Joe. But now she couldn’t help but think that it might be easier to simply say goodbye over the phone.

“Ow,” he said, laughter in his voice. “You kill me, lady. But I meant are you hungry for food. Like, you and me—the real me, no disguises—going out somewhere for dinner.” He paused. “In public. Like to a restaurant.” He paused again, then laughed. “God, am I smooth, or what? I’m trying to ask you out to dinner, Ron. What do ya say?”

He didn’t give her time to answer. “I’m still downtown,” he continued, “but I can catch a cab and make it up to the hotel in about fifteen or twenty minutes. Wear that black dress, okay? We’ll go up to Camelback Mountain. Mac says there’s a great restaurant at the resort there. There’s a band and dancing, and a terrific view of the city.”

“But—”

“Oh, yes. There’s a cab pulling up, right outside. Gotta run, babe. Get dressed—I’ll be right there.”

“But I don’t want to go out. It’s our last night—maybe forever—and I want to spend it alone with you,” Veronica said to the dead phone line.

She slowly hung up the phone.

She had one more night with Joe. One more night to last the rest of her life. One more night to burn her imprint permanently into his memory.

Hmm.

Veronica picked up the phone and dialed room service. Joe wanted dinner and dancing and a view of the city? The view from this room wasn’t too shabby. And the four-star restaurant in this hotel delivered food to the rooms. As for dancing…

Holding the telephone in one hand, Veronica crossed to the stereo that was attached to the entertainment center. Yes, there was a tape deck. She smiled.

For the first time, Joe actually knocked on her door rather than picking the lock and letting himself in.

With the long skirt of her black silk dress shushing about her legs, Veronica crossed to the hotel-room door and flung it open and herself into his arms. “Lord, I’ve waited all day to do this,” she said. “You scared me to death this morning.”

Having his arms around her felt so good. And when his lips met hers, she felt herself start to melt and she wrapped her own arms more tightly around his neck. Her fingers laced through his hair and—

Veronica pulled back.

His long hair was gone. Joe had cut his hair. Short. Really short. She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since she’d opened her hotel-suite door. He was wearing a naval dress uniform. It was dark blue with rows and rows and rows of medals and ribbons on his left breast. He wore a white hat on his head, and he took it off, holding it almost awkwardly in his hands. His dark eyes were slightly sheepish as he watched her take in his haircut. His hair had been buzz cut around his ears and at the back. The top and front were slightly longer—just long enough so that a lock of dark hair fell forward over his forehead.

He smiled ruefully. “The barber went a little overboard,” he said. “I don’t usually wear it quite this short and…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Damn, you hate it.”

Veronica touched his arm, shaking her own head. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t hate it…” But she didn’t like it, either. Not that he looked bad. In fact, he didn’t. If anything, his short cut made his lean face more handsome than ever. But it also made him look harder, tougher, unforgiving—dangerous on an entirely new level. He looked like exactly what he was—a highly trained, highly competent special-forces officer. She couldn’t help but be reminded that he was a man who risked his life as a matter of course. And that was what Veronica didn’t like. “It suits you,” she told him.

He searched her eyes, and whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him. “Good.”

“You look… wonderful,” Veronica said honestly.

“So do you.” His eyes flared with that familiar heat as he ran them down and then back up her body.

“This is the way I thought you were going to look—before we met,” she said.

A brief shadow flickered across his face. “Yeah, well, I guess I oughta tell you, I can count on my fingers and toes the times I’ve worn this dress uniform. What you saw when we met is closer to the truth. I usually wear fatigues or jeans. And if I’ve been working with engines, they’re usually covered with grease or dirt.”

Why was he telling her this? It seemed almost like a warning. He seemed so serious, Veronica felt compelled to make things lighter. “Are you saying this because you want me to do your laundry?” she teased.

Joe gave her one of his quicksilver grins. Yes, seeing him smile that way, his teeth so very white against his lean, tanned face, Veronica could say that this new haircut definitely suited him. “You want to do my laundry?” he countered.

The casual question suddenly seemed to carry more meaning, as Joe watched her intently. His dark eyes were sharp, almost piercing as he waited for an answer.

Veronica laughed, trying to hide her sudden nervousness. Why were they talking about laundry? “I don’t do my own laundry,” she said with a shrug. “When do I have time?”

She stepped back, opening the door wider to let him in. “We’re standing in the hall,” she added. “Won’t you come in?”

Joe hesitated. “Maybe we should just go…”

She smiled. “Think if you come inside we’ll never leave?”

He touched the side of her face. “I don’t just think it, baby, I know it.”

She kissed the palm of his hand. “Would that be so terrible?” she whispered, gazing up into the midnight depths of his eyes.

“No.” He stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him.

Veronica was nervous. Joe could see that she was nervous as she moved out of his grasp and into the room and—

The table was set and covered with a very grand-looking room-service dinner. And the rest of the room… Veronica had pushed all the furniture out of the center of the living room.

She’d done that before. Back in D.C. Back when he’d climbed up to the balcony and gone in her sliding-glass door and…

Joe looked up to find her watching him. She moistened her lips nervously and smiled. “Dinner and dancing,” she explained. “I made room, so that we could dance.”

“We?”

Veronica blushed, but she held his gaze. “So I can dance for you,” she correctly herself softly. “Although, at some point you will dance with me, too. But maybe we should have dinner first.”

The fragrant smell of gourmet food filled the air. Joe knew that he hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. He also knew that dinner was the very last thing he wanted right now. Veronica was going to dance for him. She was going to dance the way he’d seen her dance when he’d climbed up to her room. Only this time, she would know right from the start that he was watching. “Maybe we should have dinner later,” he said huskily.

As he watched, she crossed to the window and closed the curtains. God, his heart was pounding as if he’d just run a three-minute mile. He could feel his blood surging hotly through his veins with each pulsing beat. She was really going to do this. She knew he wanted her to—he’d asked her to dance for him. But he’d never thought she’d actually do it. He thought he’d asked for too much.

Veronica smiled at him as she crossed back to the dinner table and took a bottle of beer from a small bottle cooler. She opened it, poured it into a glass and carried it to him.

“Thanks,” Joe said as she handed him both the glass and the bottle.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Veronica murmured, and with a whisper of silk, she moved back to the other side of the room.

Sit down. Yeah, right. Sit down. As Joe lowered himself into a chair, Veronica crossed to the stereo and slipped a tape into the deck.

Joe knew what her dancing meant to her. She’d told him that it was private and intensely personal. It was a way to let off steam, to unwind, to really relax. And she was going to share it with him now. She was going to let her personal, private pleasure become his pleasure.

The fire that was shooting through his veins reached his heart and exploded. Veronica St. John had told him she loved him today. And tonight, by sharing herself with him this way, she was showing him just how much.

The music started—softly, slowly—and Ronnie stood in the middle of the room, head back, eyes closed, arms at her sides. God, she was beautiful. And she was his. All his. Forever, if he had anything to say about it. And he did. He had a lot to say about it. Hell, he could write a book on the subject.

The music changed with a sudden burst of volume, and Veronica brought her hands up sharply, into the air.

And then she began to move.

She was graceful, fluid, and her dress seemed an extension of her body, moving with her. Her eyes were still closed, but then she opened them and looked directly at Joe.

She blushed, and his heart burned even hotter. She was such a contradiction. The slightest thing could make her blush—until passion overcame her. And when that happened, she was amazingly uninhibited. Joe had never had a lover like Veronica St. John. One moment she was seemingly prim and proper, and the next she was wild, giving him pleasure in ways he’d only dreamed of, and telling him—quite specifically, in no uncertain terms—exactly what he could and should do to please her.

As Joe watched, Veronica closed her eyes again, and again the music changed, the rhythm getting stronger, faster, more insistent. Her dancing, too, became less careful, less contained. Her movements were freer, broader, more powerful.

More passionate.

She reached up with both hands and with one swift motion, removed the pins that were holding her hair. It tumbled down around her shoulders, an avalanche of red gold curls.

Joe’s mouth was dry, and he took a sip of the beer she’d given him.

Veronica kicked off her high heels, and, as Joe watched, she became the music. She moved to the funky, bluesy instrumental piece, visually capturing every nuance, every musical phrase with her body.

Her body.

They hadn’t been lovers for long, but Joe already knew every inch of Veronica’s beautiful body intimately. But seeing her body in motion this way was an entirely new experience. Her dress barely restrained her breasts and they moved with and against the forces of gravity. The black silk slid across her abdomen and thighs, allowing glimpses of the firm muscles and flesh underneath when occasionally it clung for a second or two.

Veronica made a twisting, writhing motion that was pure sex, pure abandon.

The long skirt of her dress was no longer moving with her— it was getting in her way.

This time when she opened her eyes and looked at Joe, she didn’t blush. She smiled—a sweet, hot, sexy smile—and reached behind her for the zipper of her dress. In less than a heartbeat, the dress pooled around her feet, and she was naked—save for a pair of black silk panties. She kicked the dress aside, still dancing, still moving and spinning.

A thong. She was wearing thong panties, black silk against her skin so creamy and white.

And still she danced.

For him.

I’ve died, Joe thought, and gone to heaven.

She moved closer to him, smiling at the look he knew damn well was on his face. He was hypnotized. Stupefied. Totally overcome. And extremely aroused.

Still moving, she held out her hands to him. “Dance with me.”

It was not an invitation he needed to hear twice. He set his beer on the nearest end table and rose to his feet. And then, God, she was in his arms, moving with him and against him to that bluesy melody.

Her skin was so smooth, so silky beneath his hands. He touched her everywhere. Her softly rounded bottom, her full breasts, her flat stomach, her long, willowy arms. He was still in his uniform and she was nearly naked, and he had never, never been so turned on in his entire life. They were dancing so close, their legs were intertwined. He could feel the heat between her legs against his thigh. She could surely feel his arousal—she pressed against him, her slow, sexy movement driving him crazy, and the sight of her, nearly naked in his arms, making him throb with need.

“Ronnie…”

Somehow she knew that he’d had nearly all he could take. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. Joe heard himself groan. He couldn’t get enough of her.

He felt her fingers unbuckling his belt and swiftly unfastening his pants. And then he was in her hands. It was good, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Ronnie, I need—”

“I know.”

She covered him with a condom she’d procured from God-knew-where, and slipped out of her panties as she kissed him again.

“Lift me up,” Veronica murmured.

“Yes,” he breathed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he ensheathed himself in her wonderful, smooth heat. “Oh, baby…”

She moved on top of him, against him, with him. She was in his arms, in his heart, in his very soul. This passionate, fiery woman, who could be blazing hot one moment and gently sweet the next, this woman with the sharp sense of humor and quiet touch that hid a will of steel—a will that was ruled by the kindest heart he’d ever known—this was the one woman he’d been waiting for all his life. All the love he’d made, all the women he’d known before, had meant nothing to him. No one had moved him. No one had even come close to holding him. He’d always been able to close the door and walk away from a woman without looking back.

But there was no way he’d ever be able to walk away from Veronica. Not without leaving his heart behind—ripped from his chest.

He clung to her, holding her as tightly as she held him, plunging himself deeply into her again and again.

He loved her. He wanted to tell her, but the words—those three simple little words—didn’t come easily. The truth was, saying them scared him to death. Now, wasn’t that funny? He was a SEAL. He’d faced platoons of enemy soldiers, he’d looked death in the teeth without batting an eye more times than he could count, yet the thought of uttering one very simple sentence made him sweat.

Ronnie’s fingers were in his hair. Her mouth was covering his face and lips with kisses.

“Joe,” she breathed, “Joe. I want more—” He moved, backing her up against the wall to anchor her in place, and she tipped back her head. “Yes…”

Her release was incredible. She cried out as he drove himself into her, giving her all she’d asked for. Her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers clutched him.

“I love you,” Veronica cried. “Oh, Joe, I love you!”

Her words pushed him over the edge. She loved him. She really did. He exploded in a blinding white burst of pleasure so exquisite, so pure that the world seem to disintegrate around him.!!!Baby, I love you, too.