girl’s eyes. He didn’t like being reminded that he didn’t fit into this opulent world of hers—a world filled with money, power and class.
Not that he wanted to fit in. Hell, he wouldn’t last more than a few months in a place like this. He preferred his own world—the world of the Navy SEALs, where a man wasn’t judged by the size of his wallet, or the price of his education, or the cut of his clothes. In his world, a man was judged by his actions, by his perseverance, by his loyalty and stamina. In his world, a man who’d made it into the SEALs was treated with honor and respect—regardless of the way he looked. Or smelled.
He leaned back on the big, fancy, five-star bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Maybe you could give me some kind of clue as to what I’m doing here, honey,” he said, watching her wince at his term of endearment. “I’m pretty damn curious.”
The rich girl’s eyes widened, and she actually forgot to look disdainful for a few minutes. “Are you trying to tell me that no one’s told you anything?”
Joe sat up. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
She shook her head. Her hair was starting to dry, and it was definitely curly. “But that’s impossible.”
“Impossible it ain’t, sweetheart,” he said. A double wince this time. One for the bad grammar, the other for the “sweetheart.” “I’m here in D.C. without the rest of my team, and I don’t know why.”
Veronica turned abruptly and went into the hotel suite’s living room. Joe followed more slowly, leaning against the frame of the door and watching as she sifted through her briefcase.
“You were supposed to be met by—” she pulled a yellow legal pad from her notebook and flipped to a page in the back “—an Admiral Forrest?” She looked up at him almost hopefully.
The navy lieutenant just shrugged, still watching her. Lord, but he was handsome. Despite the layers of dirt and his dark, scowling expression, he was, like Prince Tedric, almost impossibly good-looking. And this man was nearly dripping with an unconscious virility that Tedric didn’t even begin to possess. He was extremely attractive underneath all that grime—if she were the type who went for that untamed, rough-hewn kind of man.
Which, of course, Veronica wasn’t. Dangerous, bad-boy types had never made her heart beat faster. And if her heart seemed to be pounding now, why, that was surely from the scare he’d given her earlier.
No, she was not the type to be attracted by steel-hard biceps and broad shoulders, a rough-looking five o’clock shadow, a tropical tan, a molten-lava smile, and incredible brown bedroom eyes. No. Definitely, positively not.
And if she gave him a second glance, it was only to verify the fact that Lieutenant Joseph P. Catalanotto was not going to be mistaken for visiting European royalty.
Not today, anyway.
And not tomorrow. But, for Wila’s sake, for her own career, and for little Cindy at Saint Mary’s, Veronica was going to see to it that two days from now, Joe would be a prince.
But first things first. And first things definitely included putting her clothes back on, particularly since Lieutenant Catalanotto wasn’t attempting to hide the very, very male appreciation in his eyes as he looked at her.
“Why don’t you help yourself to something to drink,” Veronica said, and Joe’s gaze flickered across the suite, toward the elaborate bar that was set up on the other side of the room. “Give me a minute to get dressed,” she added. “Then I’ll try to explain why you’re here.”
He nodded.
She walked past him, aware that he was still watching right up to the moment she closed the bedroom door behind her.
The man’s accent was atrocious. It screamed New York City—blue-collar New York City. But okay. With a little ingenuity, with the right scheduling and planning, Joe wouldn’t have to utter a single word.
His posture, though, was an entirely different story. Tedric stood ramrod straight. Lieutenant Catalanotto, on the other hand, slouched continuously. And he walked with a kind of relaxed swagger that was utterly un-princely. How on earth was she going to teach him to stand and sit up straight, let alone walk in that peculiar, stiff, princely gait that Tedric had perfected?
Veronica pulled fresh underwear and another pair of panty hose—number three for the day—from her suitcase. Her dark blue suit was near the top of the case, so she pulled it on, then slipped her tired feet into a matching pair of pumps. A little bit of makeup, a quick brush through her almost-dry hair…
Gloves would cover his hands, she thought, her mind going a mile a minute. Even if that engine grease didn’t wash off, it could be hidden by a pair of gloves. Tedric himself often wore a pair of white gloves. No one would think that was odd.
Joe’s hair was an entirely different matter. He wore his hair short, while Tedric’s flowed down past his shoulders.
They could get a wig for Joe. Or hair extensions. Yes, hair extensions would be even better, and easier to keep on. Provided Joe would sit still long enough to have them attached…
This was going to work. This was going to work.
Taking a deep breath and smoothing down her suit jacket, Veronica opened the door and went back into the living room.
And stopped short.
The living room of her hotel suite was positively crowded.
Senator McKinley, three different Ustanzian ambassadors, an older man wearing a military dress uniform covered with medals, a half-dozen FInCOM security agents, Prince Tedric and his entire entourage all stood frozen and staring at Joe Catalanotto, who had risen to his feet in front of the sofa. The tension in the room could have been cut by a knife.
The man in uniform was the only one who spoke. “Nice to see that you dressed for the occasion, Joe,” he said with a chuckle.
Joe crossed his arms. “The guys who shanghaied me forgot to bring my wardrobe trunk,” he said dryly. Then he smiled. It was a genuine, sincere smile that warmed his face and touched his eyes. “Good to see you, Admiral.”
Joe looked around the room, his gaze landing on Prince Tedric’s face. Tedric was staring at him as if he were a rat that had made its way into the hotel room from the street below.
Joe’s smile faded, and was replaced by another scowl. “Well,” he said. “I’ll be damned. If it isn’t my evil twin.”
Veronica laughed. She couldn’t help it. It just came bubbling out. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, and all but clamped her hand across her mouth. But no one seemed to notice—no one but Joe, who glanced over at her in surprise.
“Don’t you know who you’re talking to, young man? This is the crown prince of Ustanzia,” Senator McKinley said sternly to Joe.
“Damn straight I know who I’m talking to, Pop,” Joe said tightly. “I’m the kind of guy who never forgets a face—particularly when I see it every morning in the mirror. My team of SEALs pulled this bastard’s sorry butt out of Baghdad.” He turned back to Tedric. “Keeping free and clear of war zones these days, Ted, you lousy bastard?”
Everyone in the room, with the exception of Joe and the still-grinning admiral, drew in a shocked breath. Veronica was amazed that her ears didn’t pop from the sudden drop in air pressure.
The crown prince’s face turned an interesting shade of royal purple. “How dare you?” he gasped.
Joe seemed to grow at least three feet taller and two feet broader. He took a step or two toward Tedric, and everyone in the room—with the exception of the admiral—drew back.
“How dare you put yourself into a situation where my men had to risk their lives to pull you back out?” Joe all but snarled. “One of my men spent months in intensive care because of you,