Alpha Squad. Suzanne Brockmann

standing near the weight machine in the corner of the room. As quickly as his smile appeared, the barbarian was gone.

      Odd, Veronica hadn’t noticed the other men before this. She’d been aware of the FInCOM agents lurking near her, but not these three men dressed in workout clothes. They seemed to know Joe. SEALs, Veronica guessed. They had to be the men Joe had asked Admiral Forrest to send.

      Joe slowed at last, returning the treadmill to a walking speed as he caught his breath. He stepped off and grabbed a towel, using it to mop his face as he came toward Veronica.

      “What’s up?”

      Joe was steaming. There was literally visible heat rising from his smooth, powerful shoulders. He stopped about six feet away from her, clearly not wanting to offend her by standing too close.

      His friends came and surrounded him, and Veronica was momentarily silenced by three additional pairs of eyes appraising her with frank male appreciation. Joe’s eyes alone were difficult enough to handle.

      Joe glanced at the other men. “Get lost,” he said. “This is a private conversation.”

      “Not anymore,” said one of them with a Western twang. He was almost as tall as Joe, but probably weighed forty pounds less. He held out his hand to Veronica. “I’m Cowboy, ma’am.”

      She shook Cowboy’s hand, and he held on to hers far longer than necessary, until Joe gave him a dark look.

      “All right, quick introductions,” Joe said. “Lieutenant McCoy, my XO—executive officer—and Chief Becker and Ensign Jones. Also known as Blue, Harvard and Cowboy. Miss Veronica St. John. For you illiterates, it’s spelled Saint and John, two words, but pronounced Sinjin. She’s Prince Tedric’s media consultant, and she’s on the scheduling team for this op.”

      Lt. Blue McCoy looked to be about Joe’s age—somewhere in his early thirties. He was shorter and smaller than the other men, with the build of a long-distance runner and the blue eyes, wavy, thick blond hair and handsome face of a Hollywood star.

      Harvard—Chief Becker—was a large black man with steady, intelligent brown eyes and a smoothly shaven head. Cowboy’s hair was even longer than Blue McCoy’s, and he wore it pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. His eyes were green and sparkling, and his smile boyishly winsome. He looked like Kevin Costner’s younger brother, and he knew it. He kept winking at her.

      “Pleased to meet you,” Veronica said, shaking hands with both Blue and Harvard. She was afraid if she offered Cowboy her hand again, she might never get it back.

      “The pleasure’s all ours, ma’am,” Cowboy said. “I love what you’ve done with the captain’s hair.”

      “Captain?” Veronica looked at Joe. “I thought you were a Lieutenant.”

      “It’s a term of endearment, ma’am,” Blue said. He, too, had a thick accent, but his was from the Deep South. “Cat’s in command, so sometimes he gets called Captain.”

      “It’s better than some of the other things they call me,” Joe said.

      Cat.

      Admiral Forrest had also called Joe by that nickname. Cat. It fit. As Joe ran on the treadmill, he looked like a giant cat, so graceful and fluid. The nickname, while really just a shortened form of Catalanotto, wasn’t too far off.

      “Okay, great,” Joe said. “We’ve made nice. Now you boys get lost. Finish your PT, and let the grown-ups talk.”

      Lt. McCoy took the other two men by the arms and pulled them toward weight-lifting equipment. Harvard began to bench-press heavy-looking weights while Cowboy spotted him, one eye still on Joe and Veronica.

      “Now let’s try this one more time,” Joe said with a smile. “What’s up? You look like you want to court-martial me.”

      “Only if the punishment for mutiny is still execution,” Veronica said, smiling tightly.

      Joe looped his towel around his neck. “Mutiny,” he said. “That’s a serious charge—especially considering I did my damnedest to wake you up.”

      Veronica crossed her arms. “Oh, and I suppose your ‘damnedest’ included putting me in a nice soft bed, where I’d be sure to sleep away most of the day?” she said. She glanced around, at both the FInCOM agents and the other SEALs, and lowered her voice. “I might also point out that it was hardly proper for me to sleep in your bed. It surely looked bad, and it implied…certain things.”

      “Whoa, Ronnie.” Joe shook his head. “That wasn’t my intention. I thought you’d be more comfortable, that’s all. I wasn’t trying to—”

      “I’m an unmarried woman, Lieutenant,” Veronica interrupted. “Regardless of what you intended, it is not in my best interests to take a nap in any man’s bed.”

      Joe laughed. “I think maybe you’re overreacting just a teeny little bit. This isn’t the 1890s. I don’t see how your reputation could be tarnished simply from napping in my bed. If I were in there with you, it’d be an entirely different matter. But if you want to know the truth, I’d be willing to bet no one even noticed where you were sleeping this morning, or even that you were asleep. And if they did, that’s their problem.”

      “No, it’s my problem,” Veronica said sharply, her temper flaring. “Tell me, Lieutenant, are there many women in the SEALs?”

      “No,” Joe said. “There’re none. We don’t allow women in the units.”

      “Aha,” Veronica retorted. “In other words, you’re not familiar with sexual discrimination, because your organization is based on sexual discrimination. That’s just perfect.”

      “Look, if you want to preach feminism, fine,” Joe said, his patience disintegrating, “but do me a favor—hand me a pamphlet to read on the subject and be done with it. Right now, I’m going to take a shower.”

      By now they had the full, unconcealed attention of the three other SEALs and the FInCOM agents, but Veronica was long past caring. She was angry—angry that he had let her sleep, angry that he was so macho, angry that he had kissed her—and particularly angry that she had liked his kiss so damn much.

      She blocked Joe’s way, stabbing at his broad chest with one finger. “Don’t you dare run away from me, Lieutenant,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “You’re operating in my world now, and I will not have you jeopardizing my career through your own stupid ignorance.”

      He flinched as if she’d slapped him in the face and turned away, but not before she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes. Hurt that was rapidly replaced by anger.

      “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Joe said through clenched teeth. “I was only trying to be nice. I thought sleeping on the couch would screw up your back, but forget it. From now on, I won’t bother, okay? From now on, we’ll go by the book.”

      He pushed past her and went into the locker room. The FInCOM agents and the three other SEALs followed, leaving Veronica alone in the exercise room. Her reflection gazed back at her from all angles.

      Perfect. She’d handled that just perfectly.

      Veronica had come down here to find out why he’d let her sleep so long, and wound up in a fierce argument about sexual discrimination and her pristine reputation. That wasn’t the real issue at all. It had just been something to shout about, because Lord knew she couldn’t walk up to him and shout that his kiss had turned her entire world upside down and now she was totally, utterly and quite thoroughly off-balance.

      Instead, she had called him names. Stupid. Ignorant. Words that had clearly cut deep, despite the fact that he was anything but stupid and far from ignorant.

      What Veronica had done was take out all her anger and frustration on the man.

      But if anyone was to blame here, it was herself.