Cari flinched as Eduardo bellowed, “What’s the meaning of this?”

“What’s the meaning of what?” she asked innocently. “You were busy with your meeting so we decided to take a swim.”

Rico growled, “With no clothes on.”

Jerk. She took Joe’s advice and moved her arms vigorously, stirring up the surface of the water as much as possible. And, sure enough, the underwater spotlights popped on just then and the pool lit up like a brilliant blue topaz. It was acutely uncomfortable having a half dozen of her father’s armed guards standing around, staring down at the two of them like goldfish in a bowl.

Joe groused, “What do we have to do to keep the whole freaking student body from crashing the party?”

“Stay in your room,” Eduardo snapped.

“Yeah, well that’s hard to do when my wife’s father is ordering her to go to his business meetings to serve drinks,” Joe snapped back.

Cari froze. Nobody talked to her father like that.

“Jeez, dude,” Joe complained, “if you needed me to spot you a little cash to hire a waiter, all you had to do was ask. I mean, we’re family now. I’d have helped you out.”

Cari inhaled and got a mouthful of water instead. She coughed and sputtered and Joe was there instantly, his strong arms around her and his incredibly powerful kicks supporting the two of them easily.

And then the rest of it registered. Joe’s body—all of it— was plastered against hers. He was warm and hard in the cool water, as lithe and muscular as a dolphin. What little breath she had whooshed out of her at the feel of him. She would love nothing more than to lose herself in the sensations bombarding her from head to toe.

She glanced up at him and their gazes locked in mutual shock. He was as aware of her as she was of him!

For an instant, the rest of the world disappeared and it was just the two of them, floating weightless as one. This was exactly how it would be when they made love. They would create a world all their own where nothing and no one could come between them. She would be safe and loved and would joyfully give every bit of herself, body and soul, to him.

Then Eduardo snapped, “Enough shillyshallying around. Out of the water, you two.”

The spell was broken. She closed her eyes briefly as the pain of what could have been speared through her.

And then something equally delightful—not—occurred to her. She was going to have to climb out of the swimming pool, naked, in front of a crowd that had now swelled to over a dozen men. It would put the cherry on top of a totally humiliating evening. First, that pervert sticking his fingers where he had no right to put them, and now this.

She had no doubt Eduardo knew exactly how embarrassing this would be for her. And he didn’t care one bit. It was all about power. Control. Having the ability to order people to do things that were odious to them.

With a sigh, she gathered herself to head for the side of the pool. It was no use fighting her father. But Joe’s arms, which were loosely circling her, tightened, stopping her.

“Hey, Mr. F. Tell me something,” Joe asked casually. “Did you ever change Cari’s diapers when she was a baby?”

What was he up to now?

Eduardo’s gaze snapped to Joe. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, diapers. Nappies. Those cloth things you wrap around babies’ butts to catch the mess.”

“I know what diapers are,” Eduardo snapped. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, the way I see it, if you changed Cari’s diapers on a regular basis when she was a baby, you can probably make a decent argument for having a right to look at her rear end now. But if you weren’t a diaper kind of guy—and I have to say, Ed, you don’t strike me as the butt-wiping type—then I don’t think you have any business telling your daughter to get out of the pool and parade around in her birthday suit in front of you and your men.”

“I have every right!” Eduardo bellowed.

“No kidding?” Joe exclaimed. “I figured you wrong, man. You came across to me as big-time diaper-challenged. How old was Cari when she finally got potty-trained, anyway?”

“I wouldn’t have the slightest idea,” Eduardo half shouted. “And I didn’t change diapers!” he added forcefully. This last statement was blasted in the general direction of his men.

Joe tsk-tsked. “Big mistake, man. I’ve heard experts say it’s really important for fathers to do some of that day-to-day care-for-their-kids stuff. Helps them, like, bond, you know? I figure it helps keep the mommies from going homicidal on the daddies, too.”

Eduardo stared down at them, as flummoxed as usual by Joe’s rambling conversational style, which always seemed to end up someplace outrageous.

Personally, she was so entertained that laughter threatened to erupt from her…which would be a bad idea, given the thunder gathering on her father’s brow.

But Joe powered ahead, apparently oblivious to how annoyed her father was. “I thought maybe since her mother died when she was little, you might’ve pitched in with the whole diaper bit. How did your mother die, anyway, Cari?”

She blinked, startled at the abrupt change of topic and even more startled to be brought into this strange discussion. “Uh, she died of a broken neck,” she answered cautiously. This was traditionally a taboo subject in Eduardo’s household. Her mother’s name was never mentioned, let alone the manner of her death.

“A broken neck? Wow. That sucks. How’d that happen?” Joe looked around expectantly, first at her and then up at Eduardo. Yikes. No way would her father care to have that particular bit of dirty laundry aired in front of this madman in their midst.

On cue, her father blustered, “Somebody, go get a couple of towels, for God’s sake.”

As one of the thugs trotted off to play fetch, Joe called after him loudly, “And bring us some bathing suits, too!” Joe continued slightly more quietly to her father, “I’m going to assume Cari is finished with your meeting for the evening, and I’m not letting my wife flash anything at your men when she climbs out of the pool. Then we are retiring to our room, and I trust we won’t be disturbed again. I’m sure Cari represented you well this evening as your daughter. But for the rest of the night, she’s my wife.”

Eduardo scowled, unsure of how this situation had spun so completely out of his control. He pivoted on his expensively clad heel and stomped inside, leaving her and Joe to the tender mercies of Gunter and crew.

While they all waited for towels and swimsuits to arrive, awkward silence fell. Joe’s hand on the small of her back strayed lower, his fingers grazing the crevice defining the terminus of her spine. She gasped, startled. Whoa. Heretofore undiscovered erogenous-zone alert! And then his hand cupped her derriere gently, possessively, almost as if he were marking the spot as his and his alone. She exhaled softly, melting closer against him.

It was all a matter of intent. How Joe managed to convey such respect while cupping her behind, she had no idea, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind that he would never take advantage of her. In a strange way, his gentle caress wiped away the Slav’s grope, sanctifying her, making everything okay again. She looked through her lashes at Joe, grateful yet again for his unfailing consideration of her.

He smiled down at her apologetically.

He had nothing to apologize for. He was a Gentleman— with a capital G. It was an honor to be the object of his respect and caring. She didn’t deserve him. Once this whole mess was over, she would give anything to be able to stay with him, to be his wife or, at least, his girlfriend in reality. But of course, he would never look twice at her. She was a Ferrare, and that name was poison to the Blackjacks.

Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of just how much Joe despised Eduardo and everything he stood for. Surely, he couldn’t help but see her as an extension of her father. God. Why, oh why, did she have to be Eduardo Ferrare’s daughter?

She reached up with one hand and laid her palm on his cheek. “You’re such a good man,” she murmured.

He snorted. “You’ve said that before. You must know that I’m a lot of things, but good definitely isn’t one of them.”

“Then you’re not looking at yourself through my eyes,” she replied with conviction. “From my point of view, you’re practically saint material.”

He blinked at her, looking nearly as flummoxed as her father had just been. “You’re looking through rose-colored glasses, princess. Seeing what you want to see.”

“Then here’s to wearing those suckers forever,” she said.

“I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you,” he muttered back.

She’d just opened her mouth to deny the truth of his statement when Gunter spoke from beside the pool. “In answer to your earlier question, Mr. Smith, Cari was potty-trained for daytime when she was two-and-a-half years old and fully trained by her third birthday.”

Cari looked up at him, surprised. “How in the world do you know that?”

He gazed down at her, the expression in his eyes as close to human as any she’d ever seen. An infinitesimal smile cracked his lips. And then he shrugged, turning away.

“Son of a gun,” Joe breathed in her ear. “Who’d have guessed? Big G has a heart.”

Shock rendered her unable to reply. Gunter? He cared enough for her to remember details like that? But as she thought back over the years, he did, indeed, treat her like his own daughter. Who’d have guessed, indeed?

Joe interrupted her stunned train of thought, murmuring in her ear, “You are one truly incredible lady. Spine of steel.”

“Who, me?” she blinked.

“Yeah, you. I’ve never seen anyone who can take a punch like you can. You roll with it and just get back on your feet and press on. You’re amazing.”

Her cheeks felt hot. Nobody had ever said anything remotely like that to her before. Ever. When he put it like that, she suddenly did feel a little stronger. Maybe not exactly in charge of herself and her life, but not a total loser. And wasn’t that a change from the status quo?

She glanced up at him. There it was again. That sense of shared, intimate understanding of one another. It was like having their own secret garden to retreat to in the midst of everyone else around them.

Finally, the towels and bathing suits arrived. She snagged the white one-piece suit that got tossed out to her and shimmied into it while she treaded water. It was a trick to do without drowning herself. Joe pulled on a pair of baggy surfing shorts beside her and then helped her untwist the straps across her back.

Although their entire swim probably took less than ten minutes, it felt like she’d been in this water for an eternity. It was so nice to finally climb out of the pool—clothed. Gunter held a big beach towel out to her and she smiled shyly at him. He ducked his head, embarrassed, and looked away as she took the big cloth and wrapped it around herself.

Tucking in the free end over her chest, she murmured, “Thanks, Gunter. You’re the best.”

He nodded and turned away without making eye contact with her. Well, weren’t the macho images just toppling left and right tonight?

“Let’s go, princess. I swear, when we get to our room, I’m locking the door and not letting anyone in for a week!”

“Sounds like a great plan to me,” she agreed as Joe looped his arm around her shoulders.

They didn’t see her father on the way upstairs. No doubt, he was busy pondering his lack of bonding with his daughters because of his failure to wipe their bottoms as babies. She bit back a grin. Where did Joe come up with that stuff?

Never in her entire life had she seen anyone manage to turn Eduardo inside out and tie him in knots like Joe did. It was a gift.

Gunter escorted them upstairs and ushered them into her room with a quiet admonition. “Stay inside at night from now on.”

Joe grinned at the security man. “Can I quote you on that?”

Gunter’s gaze flickered over to her. “Keep her safe, eh?”

Joe’s voice shifted, taking on a tone she didn’t hear often outside of this room. One of deadly seriousness. “With my life.”

Gunter nodded as if the two of them had come to an important understanding. Must be some sort of guy thing. Passing the torch for the care and feeding of the weak, needy female. She rolled her eyes and stepped into the room.

While Joe did, in fact, lock the door securely, she turned off the lights. All of them. It had suddenly hit her that Joe had seen what had happened in her father’s office. He’d witnessed the Slav’s disgusting suggestions as well as her father’s response. It had been so personal. So…degrading.

In an effort to distract him, she said, “I need a shower. To get the chlorine from our swim out of my hair. Join me?”

Joe glanced at the bathroom and then back at her. Understanding that she wanted to talk and didn’t want to be overheard dawned on his face.

He nodded crisply but drawled easily, “You got it, baby. I’ll scrub your back if you’ll scrub mine.”

“Deal.”

When the bathroom door was closed and the water running full steam, Joe turned to her. “What’s up?”

“I thought you might be interested in exactly what it was my father was buying tonight.”

“He’s buying something?”

She leaned her hip against the blue granite counter and crossed her arms. “Yup. Information.”

Joe cocked a questioning eyebrow.

“Turns out the Slavic jerk has access to his country’s intelligence documents. And the South African guy buys information from a spy satellite the South African government has in orbit. I don’t know where the other two get their stuff from, but they’re information brokers, too.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your old man trying so hard to get his mitts on?”

She paused for a moment to let the dramatic tension build.

“Well?” Joe prompted.

“He’s trying to buy the names and home addresses of everyone on the Blackjacks.”

Joe lurched up off the toilet, where he was seated. “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard you the first time. Tell me everything he said.”

That answered that. Joe was definitely a member of the highly classified Special Forces team.

She shrugged. “There wasn’t much to hear. My father offered a million dollars per name to the first man to bring him the complete roster of the Blackjacks operators and where they live. Another ten million to whoever can find my sister.”

“And what’s he planning to do with all that information?” Joe snapped.

She winced. Wasn’t it obvious?

Rather than say the words aloud that her father planned to kill Joe and his teammates, she said, “The South African asked the same thing in a roundabout way, and in just as roundabout a way, my father told him to mind his own business.”

Joe unleashed a long string of profanities. “I’ve got to get that camera back.”

“What camera?” she asked, confused.

“The one I used to take pictures of your father’s guests. I hid it under the bushes below your balcony when I thought your father’s men were going to shoot me.”

The thought of him taking a bullet made her shudder.

Joe was speaking again. “Did you catch their names?”

She nodded.

“The first order of business is to relay this information to some friends of mine who’ll know what to do with it.”

That was interesting. He didn’t come right out and name himself a member of the Blackjacks, nor did he acknowledge the existence of the team by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. Was that a matter of habit, or didn’t he trust her?

Not that she blamed him. Her last name was Ferrare, after all. Well, now it was technically Smith. But same diff.

“Have you got any ideas of how I could send out a message without it being intercepted?” he asked.

“I can modify your cell phone. Tighten up the transmission frequency and change it so the regular scans Gunter uses won’t pick it up. Would that work?” she asked.

He murmured, “Color me impressed.”

“Let’s go get the camera now,” she said eagerly, already thinking about how to modify his phone to send out data files.

“Slow down, honey. We won’t get an inch outside this room for the rest of the night without a horde of your father’s men landing on us. Maybe tomorrow.”

She deflated rapidly. He was right. Apparently, the adrenaline still surging through her after their close encounter in the pool had left some sort of residue in its wake. An afterglow of wildness that was tearing at her for release.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’m beat. You must be exhausted. I know I am. Go ahead and grab a shower. I’ll wait for you in the bedroom.”

Hah. She was the exact opposite of exhausted.

As Cari took a quick shower and dried her hair, she doubted Joe’s supposed fatigue. He just didn’t want her coming on to him. She knew he was attracted to her, but why wouldn’t he do anything about it?

Obvious answer: work. He felt a need to be on guard all the time.

Obvious remedy: get him to relax. Let down his hair for a little while and then his real feelings would come through and he would finally get around to making love to her.

It was worth a try, at any rate. She couldn’t take too much more of this frustration.

When she left the bathroom, Joe was surfing TV channels. He stopped on a music video station and turned it up loud. And then he reached for the bed covers, which had been remade from where he’d ripped them up earlier. Cari would bet a maid had been sent in to repair the damage from the search of her room while she and Joe were trapped in the pool.

She never could get used to the total lack of privacy in her father’s home—the way others came in and out of her room, manhandling her possessions as if they were public property. Yet another reason to get out of here as soon as possible.

Joe invited her with a sweep of the hand to climb in.

And, shockingly, she was okay with doing just that. Maybe it was the knowledge that this was a new mattress. Or maybe it was Joe’s comforting presence. But whatever it was, she was actually going to sleep in her bed again! Exultation at the victory filled her. It was a small thing—stupid, really—but she’d overcome her fear. That was huge for her.

She slipped between the smooth, cool sheets, and Joe smiled down at her as if he knew exactly what a victory it was for her to get into this bed again.

“Way to go, tiger,” he murmured. “I told you. Spine of steel. You’re a brave woman.”

She smiled up at him. “Don’t be too impressed. I only borrowed some courage from you.”

“Consider it a gift,” he replied. Joe pulled the covers up around her chin and leaned over to turn off the little lamp on her bedside table. The room went dark.

Beneath the blaring music, she murmured, “Hold me?”

“Are you sure?” he replied cautiously.

“Please.”

Thankfully, he didn’t require any more invitation than that. His warmth encircled her even before his arms did. Oh, my, he felt nice.

His hand cupped the back of her head as her cheek found the perfect spot to nestle at the base of his neck. He’d pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts, and the soft cotton rubbed lightly against her skin. Her palms itched to get under it to the warm man beneath.

Why not? They were technically married, after all. All the cameras were gone and nobody was going to hear anything over that music channel. Besides, tonight she’d earned a little of what she wanted for a change.

She eased her hand underneath his shirt. Joe tensed, and acres of abs formed ridges beneath her palm.

“I don’t bite,” she whispered.

“Damn,” he mumbled. “I was hoping you did.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she laughed. “You look pretty tasty.”

“I’m all yours.”

The comment shot her pulse up. A lot. Going to sit back and let her call the shots tonight, was he? Whoa. Well, all right then. She knew exactly what she wanted from him.