Veronica stood at the window, looking out over downtown Boston. With all the city lights reflected in the Charles River, it was lovely. She could see the Esplanade and the Hatch Shell, where the Boston Pops played free concerts in the summer. She could see Back Bay and the Boston Common. And somewhere, down there, hidden by the trees of the common was Beacon Hill, where Talandra lived, and where there was a party going on right this very moment—without her.

She took another sip of her rum and cola, feeling the sweet warmth of the rum spreading through her.

Well, she’d certainly made a fool of herself tonight. Again. Veronica could see her wavery reflection in the window. She looked like someone else in this dress. Someone seductive and sexy. Someone who could snap her fingers and have dozens of men come running. Someone who wouldn’t give a damn if some sailor didn’t want her near him.

She laughed aloud at her foolishness, but her laughter sounded harsh in the empty hotel suite. She’d gone to this party with every intention of seducing Joe Catalanotto. She’d planned it so perfectly. She’d wear this incredible dress. He would be stunned. They’d dance. She’d dance really close. He would be even more stunned. He would follow her back to the hotel. She’d ask him into her room under the pretense of briefing him for tomorrow. But he’d know better. He’d ask the FInCOM agents to wait outside, and once the hotel-room door closed, he would pull her into his arms and…

It was perfect—except that she’d forgotten one small detail. Her plan would work only if Joe wanted her, too.

She had thought she’d seen desire in his eyes when he looked at her tonight, but obviously, she’d been mistaken.

Veronica took another sip of her drink and turned from the window, unable to bear the silence another minute.

There was a radio attached to the television, and she turned it on. It was set to a soft-rock station—not her favorite kind of music, but she didn’t care. Just as long as there was something to fill the deadly silence.

She knew she ought to change out of her dress. It was only helping to remind her what a total imbecile she’d been. She looked at herself again in the mirror that hung on the hotel-room wall. The dress was practically indecent. The silky fabric clung to her breasts, broadcasting the fact that she was wearing no bra, and the cut of the dress showed off all kinds of cleavage and skin and curves. Good grief, she might as well have gone topless. Whatever had possessed her to buy this dress, anyway? It was like wearing a nightgown in public.

Veronica stared at herself in the mirror. She knew why she had bought the dress. It was to be an unspoken message to Joe. Here I am. I’m all yours. Come and sweep me off my feet.

To which he’d responded quite clearly. Stay the hell away from me.

She sighed, fighting the tears ready to spring into her eyes. She should change into something more sensible—her flannel nightie, perhaps—instead of standing here, feeling sorry for herself. She wasn’t here, in Boston, to be either sexy or romantic. She was here to do her job. She wasn’t looking for sex or romance or even friendship, with Joe Catalanotto. She was simply looking to get a job done well. Period, the end.

“You are such a bloody liar,” Veronica said aloud to her reflection, her voice thick with disgust.

“You’re not talking to me, I hope.”

Veronica spun around, nearly spilling her rum and cola down the front of her dress.

Joe.

He was standing no more than three feet away from her, leaning against the wall next to the mirror. He stepped forward and took the drink from her hand.

Veronica’s heart was pounding. “What are you doing here?” she gasped. “How did you get in?”

There was no balcony this time. And she was positive that the room’s single door had been securely locked. But of course, he had told her he was an expert at picking locks.

Joe just smiled.

He was still wearing his party clothes. He wore a navy blue military-style jacket that buttoned up both sides of his chest and ended at his trim waist. His pants were made of a khaki-colored fabric that looked soft to the touch. They fit him like a second skin, clinging to his muscular thighs and perfect derriere. They were tucked into a pair of shiny black, knee-high boots. He wore a red sash around his waist, and the splash of color completed the princely picture.

He looked devastatingiy, heart-breakingly handsome. Veronica’s stomach flip-flopped. Lord, the way he was smiling at her… But whatever he was doing here, it wasn’t personal, she told herself. Joe had made it clear at the party that he wanted her to stay away from him.

As she watched, he set her drink down on the end table next to the sofa and crossed to the windows. He pulled the curtains shut. “I’ve been wearing my bull’s-eye long enough for one day,” he said.

Veronica glanced at her watch. It was only nine-thirty. “The Perraults’ party was supposed to last until midnight or one o’clock,” she said, unable to keep her surprise from sounding in her voice. “You were supposed to stay until at least eleven.”

Joe shrugged. “We had a little incident.”

Veronica took an involuntary step forward, fear propelling her toward him. An incident? “Are you all right?”

“It was a false alarm,” he said with another of his easy smiles.

He was standing in front of her, relaxed and smiling, absolutely at ease—or so he wanted her to believe. But she knew better. Beneath his feigned calm, he was tense and tight and ready to burst at the seams. He was upset—or he’d been upset.

“Tell me what happened,” she said quietly.

He shook his head, no. “I came to get my dance.”

She didn’t understand. His words didn’t seem to make sense. “Your…what?” She looked around the room. This was the first time he’d been in her room at the Boston hotel—how could he have left something behind?

“You asked me to dance,” Joe said.

All at once, Veronica understood. He’d come here, to her room, to dance with her. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. “You don’t have to do this,” she said tightly. “I suppose I got a little silly, and—”

“When I told you to stay away from me—”

“It’s okay that you didn’t want—”

“I didn’t want to dance with you, because you’re not wearing a bulletproof vest under that dress,” Joe said.

Veronica glanced down at her barely covered chest and felt her blush grow even stronger. “Well,” she said, trying to sound brisk and businesslike. “Obviously not.”

Joe laughed, and she looked up, startled, into the warmth of his eyes.

“God, Ron,” he said, holding her gaze. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you how… perfect you look tonight.” The warmth turned to pure fire. “You’re gorgeous” he whispered, moving closer to her, one step at a time.

Veronica closed her eyes. She didn’t have the strength to back away. “Don’t, Joe,” she said quietly.

“You think I didn’t want to dance with you at that party?” Joe asked. He didn’t give her a chance to answer. He touched her, gently cupping her shoulders, and her eyes opened. He slid his hands down to her elbows in the sweetest of caresses. “Lady, tonight I would have sold my soul for one kiss, let alone a chance to hold you in my arms.” Gently, he pulled her even closer, clasping her hand in a dance hold. “Like this.”

Slowly, he began to dance with her, moving in time to the soft ballad playing over the radio.

Veronica was trapped. She was caught both by his powerful arms and by the heat in his eyes. Her heart was pounding. She’d wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to dance with her, but not this way. Not because he pitied her…

“But I would’ve sold my soul. Not yours.” Joe’s voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he pulled her even closer. “Never yours, baby. I wasn’t about to risk your life for a dance.”

Veronica felt her pounding heart miss a beat. What was he saying? She pulled back to look into his eyes, searching for answers.

“You were in danger just standing next to me,” Joe explained. “I should’ve told you to get lost the minute you walked into that room.”

Was he saying that he hadn’t wanted to dance with her because he feared for her safety? Dear Lord, if so, then she’d misunderstood his sharp words of warning for a brush-off, for a rejection. When in reality…

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Joe said, then shook his head.

In reality, maybe he’d wanted her as badly as she’d wanted him. Veronica felt a burst of hope and happiness so intense, she almost laughed out loud.

“Hell, I wasn’t thinking,” Joe added. “I was… I don’t know what I was.”

“Stunned?” Veronica supplied. She could smile again, and she smiled almost shyly up at him.

Joe’s slow smile turned into a grin. “Yeah. You bet. ‘Stunned’ about says it all. When you walked into the party, I was totally blown away. And I was thinking with a part of my anatomy that has nothing to do with my brain.”

Veronica had to laugh at that. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Joe said. His smile grew softer, his eyes gentler. “My heart.”

And then he kissed her.

She saw it coming. She saw him lean toward her, felt him lift her chin to meet his mouth. She knew he was going to kiss her. She expected it—she wanted it. But still, the softness of his lips took her by surprise, and the sweetness of his mouth on hers took her breath away.

It was dizzying. The earth seemed to lose all its gravity as he pulled her even closer to him, as he slowly, sensuously, languidly explored her lips with his, as she opened her mouth to him, deepening the kiss.

And still they danced, the thin wool covering his thighs brushing the silk of her dress. The softness of her stomach pressed intimately against the hardness of his unmistakable desire. Her breasts were tight against his powerful chest.

It was heaven. Giving in to her passion, giving up trying to fight it was such an enormous relief. Maybe this was a mistake, but Veronica wasn’t going to think about it anymore. At least not right now, not tonight. She was simply going to kiss Joe Catalanotto, and dance with him, and savor every last moment. Every delicious, wonderful, magnificent second.

“Yo, Ronnie?‘’ Joe whispered, breaking the kiss.

“Yo, Joe?” she said, still breathless.

He laughed. And kissed her again.

This time it was hotter, harder, stronger. It was still as sweet, but it was laced with a volcanic heat. Veronica knew without a doubt that tonight she was in for the time of her life.

Joe pulled back, breathing hard. “Whoa,” he said, freeing one hand to push his hair back, out of his face. He closed his eyes briefly, took in a deep breath then forced it quickly out. “Ronnie, if you want me to leave, I should go now, because if—”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

He looked into her eyes. Really looked. As if he were searching for the answers to the mysteries of the universe.

Veronica could see his sharp intelligence, his raw, almost brutal strength, and his gentle tenderness all mixed together in his beautiful deep brown eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice a ragged whisper.

Veronica smiled. And kissed him. Lord knew, she’d found the answers to all of her questions in his eyes.

“Unh,” he said, as she swept her tongue fiercely into his mouth. And then his hands were in her hair, on her throat, on her breasts. He was touching her everywhere, as if he wanted to feel all of her at once and didn’t know where to start. But then his hands slid down her back to her derriere, pressing her hips tightly against him, holding her in place as he slanted his head and kissed her even harder.

She opened her legs, taking advantage of the slit up the side of her dress, and she rubbed the inside of her thigh against his. His hand caught her leg, and he pressed her still closer to him.

Joe’s mouth slid down to her neck as his hand cupped her breast. The roughness of his callused fingers rasped against the silk as he stroked the hard bud of her nipple.

“Oh, man,” Joe breathed between kisses, as he slipped his hand under the fabric of her top, and touched her, really touched her, with nothing between his fingers and her flesh. “For how many days have I been dying to touch you like this?”

Veronica’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jacket. “Probably the same number of days I’ve been dying for you to touch me like that.”

He lifted his head, looking into her eyes. “Really?” His gaze was so intense, so serious. “Maybe it was love at first sight, huh?”

Veronica felt her own smile fade as her pulse kicked into overtime. “Love?” she whispered, hardly daring to hope that this incredible man could possibly love her, too.

Joe looked away, down at his hand still cupping her breast. “Love…lust… Whatever.” He shrugged and kissed her again.

Veronica tried to hide her disappointment. Whatever. Well, all right. “Whatever” was better than not being desired. “Whatever” was what she’d been expecting—what he’d told her to expect from him right from the start.

But she didn’t want to think about that now. She didn’t want to think about anything but the way he was making her feel as he kissed and caressed her.

Joe pulled back then, and looked into her eyes. Slowly he slid the dress’s narrow strap off her right shoulder. As it fell away, the silk covering her breast fell away, too.

And still he gazed into her eyes.

Veronica felt the coolness of the air as it touched her skin. And then she felt Joe, as he lightly ran one finger across the tip of her breast. She felt her body tighten, felt her nipples grow more taut, even more fully aroused.

He held her gaze longer than she would have believed possible before his eyes dropped down to caress the bareness of her breast.

“God,” he breathed, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue. “You’re so beautiful.”

They were frozen in place as if time had somehow stopped. But time hadn’t stopped. Her heart was still beating, and with every beat, every surge of blood through her veins, Veronica wanted him even more.

But still he didn’t touch her; at least, no more than another of those light-as-a-feather brushes with one finger. And she wanted him to touch her. She wanted him, so very badly, to touch her.

“If you don’t touch me, I’m going to scream,” she said from between clenched teeth.

Joe’s smile turned hot. “Is that a threat or a promise?” he asked.

“Both,” she said, lost in the heat of his eyes. She was begging now. “Touch me.”

“Where?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “How?”

“My breast, your mouth,” she said. “Now. Please.”

He didn’t hesitate. He brought his mouth to her breast and swept his tongue across her sensitive nipple. Veronica cried out, and he drew her into his mouth, pulling hard.

She reached for him, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. The buttons on his shirt were so tiny, so difficult to unfasten. But she wanted his shirt off. She wanted to run her hands against all those incredible muscles in his chest and shoulders and arms. She wanted to feel the satiny smoothness of his skin beneath her fingers.

She could hear her voice moaning her pleasure as Joe suckled and kissed her again and again.

But then he lifted his head and, stopping only to kiss her deeply on the mouth, he gazed into her eyes again. “What else do you want?” he demanded. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want this bloody shirt off you,” she said, still worrying the buttons.

He reached up with both hands and pulled. Buttons flew everywhere, but the shirt was open. He yanked it off his arms.

Veronica touched his smooth, tanned muscles with the palms of her hands, closing her eyes at the sensation, running her fingers through the curly dark hair on his chest. Oh, yes. He was so beautiful, so solid.

“Tell me what you want,” Joe said again. “Come on, Ronnie, tell me where you want me to touch you.”

She opened her eyes. “I want you to touch every single inch of me with every single inch of you. I want you and me on that bed in the other room. I want to feel you between my legs, Joe—”

Joe picked her up. He simply swept her effortlessly into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

Veronica had her hands on the button of his pants before he yanked back the bedcover and laid her on the clean white sheets.

As she unfastened his sash, he found the zipper in the back of her dress. As he peeled her dress down toward her hips, she unzipped his pants and pushed them over his incredible rear end.

Her dress landed with a hiss of silk on the carpet and Joe pulled back, nearly burning her with his eyes as he took her in, lying propped up on her elbows on the bed, wearing only her black lace panties and a pair of thigh-high stockings. Lord, when he looked at her like that, with that fire in his eyes, she felt like the sexiest woman in the world.

She sat up, taking the last of the pins from her hair.

Slowly, he pushed off his shoes and stepped out of his trousers, still watching her.

Veronica was watching him, too. She rolled first one and then the other stocking from her legs as she let herself look at Joe. He was wearing only a pair of white briefs. She’d seen him in running shorts before, shorts that were nearly as brief, that exposed almost as much of his magnificent body. But this time she really let herself look.

His shoulders were broad and solid as rock. His arms were powerful and so very big. She couldn’t have even begun to span his biceps with both of her hands, although she wanted rather desperately to try. His chest was wide and covered with thick dark hair. His muscles were clearly defined, and they rippled sensually when he so much as breathed. His stomach was a washboard of ridges and valleys, his hips narrow, his legs as strong as steel.

Yes, when she’d seen him run, although she’d tried not to look, she’d managed to memorize his body in amazing, precise detail, down to the scars on his shoulder and left leg, and the anchor tattoo on his arm.

But tonight there were some differences. She let her eyes linger on the enormous bulge straining the front of his briefs.

Veronica looked up to find Joe watching her, a small smile playing across his lips.

“Part of me wants to stand here and just look at you all night,” he said.

She glanced down at his arousal, then smiled into his eyes. “Another part of you won’t be very happy if you do that.”

“Damn straight,” he said with a laugh.

“Do I really have to beg you to come over here?” Veronica asked.

“No.”

And then he was next to her on the bed and she was in his arms, and Lord, he was kissing her, touching her, running his hands across her body, filling her mouth with his tongue, tangling her legs with his.

It was ecstasy. Veronica had never felt anything remotely like it before. It was the sweetest, purest, most powerful passion she had ever known.

This was love, she thought. This incredible whirlwind of emotions and heightened sensations was love. It carried her higher, to an intellectual and emotional plane she’d never before imagined, and at the same time, it stripped her bare of every ounce of civility she had, leaving her ruled by ferocious passion, enslaved by the burning needs of her body.

She touched him, reaching down between their bodies to press the palm of her hand against his hardness, and when he cried out, she heard herself answer—the primitive call and response between a savage animal and his equally savage mate.

His hands were everywhere and his mouth was everywhere else. His fingers dipped down inside the lace of her panties, and he moaned as he felt her wet heat.

“Yes,” Veronica said. It was the only word she seemed able to form with her lips. “Yes.”

She tugged at his briefs, pulling him free from their confines, moaning her pleasure at the sensation of him in her hands. He was silky smooth and so hard, and oh…

He sat up, pulling away from her to slide her panties down and off. She sat up, too, following him, kneeling next to him on the bed, reaching for him, unwilling to let him go.

Joe groaned. “Ronnie, baby, I got to get a condom on.”

He turned to reach for his pants, now crumpled on the floor, but Veronica was faster. She opened the drawer of the bedside table and took out a small foil package—one of the condoms she’d bought just hours ago when she’d bought the dress. She’d put them in the drawer in hopes of using them precisely this way with precisely this man.

“Whoa,” Joe said as she pressed it into his hand. He was surprised that she was prepared. “I guess it’s stupid not to be ready for anything these days, huh?”

He was just holding the little package, looking at her.

Good Lord, did he actually think she kept these things on hand all the time? Was he imagining a steady stream of male visitors to her room? Veronica took it from him and tore it open. “I bought it for you. For you and me,” she said, somehow finding her voice in her need to explain. “I was hoping we’d make love tonight.”

She saw the understanding in his eyes. She’d bought it because she’d wanted to make love—to him.

Veronica touched him, covering him with her fingers, gazing from that most intimate part of him, to the small ring of latex in her hand. “I’m not sure exactly how this is supposed to work,” she said. “It doesn’t really look as if it’s going to fit, does it?”

She gazed into the heat of his eyes as he took the condom from her. “It’ll fit,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her smile turning devilish. “Maybe I should have bought the extra-large Navy SEAL size.”

Joe laughed as he quickly and rather expertly sheathed himself. “Flattery will get you everything.”

Veronica encircled his neck with her arms, brushing the hard tips of her breasts against his solid chest and her soft stomach against his arousal. “I don’t want everything,” she breathed into his ear. “I think I already told you precisely what I want.”

He kissed her—a long, sweet, slow, deep kiss that made her bones melt and her muscles feel like jelly. Still kissing her, he pulled her onto his lap, so that she was straddling his thighs. Then, taking her hips in his hands, he slowly, so slowly, lifted her up, above him.

Veronica pulled back from Joe’s kiss, her eyes open. He began to lower her down, on top of him, and as the very tip of him parted her most intimately, he opened his own eyes, meeting her gaze.

Slowly, impossibly slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he lowered her onto him, staring all the while into her eyes.

The muscles in his powerful arms were taut, but the sweat on his upper lip wasn’t from physical exertion. He lifted her slowly back up, off him, and then brought her down again, so that he was barely inside her, setting a deliberate and leisurely teasing rhythm.

Veronica moaned. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She tried to shift her weight, to bring herself down more fully on top of him, but his strong arms held her firmly in place. Her moan changed to a cry of pleasure as his mouth latched on to her breast, but still he didn’t release her hips.

“Please,” she cried, the words ripped from her throat. “Joe, please! I want more!”

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.