Breathe, Cari, breathe.

If only her body would listen to her brain. But she was so nervous she could hardly sit still. She’d just agreed to marry Joe. Right. Now.

Lord, bolting from that club had been a risky thing to do. She was supposed to be a wild child. Adventurous. The kind of girl who would take eloping in stride or, at least, take it as a big joke. Drawing what shreds of courage she could around herself, she peered at Joe in the car’s dark interior.

“Since we’ve got wheels and have already ditched my watchdogs, why don’t we just head for the airport? We can hop the first flight to anywhere.”

Beside her, one of Joe’s silhouetted shoulders shrugged. “We would never make it far enough out of the city to reach the airport. There are police checkpoints everywhere, and military patrols are crawling all over St. George. Plus, as soon as your pet thugs report to daddy, you’d better believe Eduardo’s men will be racing all over this city looking for you, too.”

“But—” she started.

Joe interrupted. “Any unscheduled takeoff by an extraction airplane or helicopter stands a good chance of being shot down by the Gavronese army. Just because there isn’t much fighting in St. George at the moment, there still is a civil war going on in this country. I could haul you out into the jungle, but it’s crawling with rebels and would put you at grave risk. Especially if you were caught with me.”

“Why’s that?”

Joe grimaced. “Let’s just say I’m not well loved by the rebels these days. I was involved in a little run-in with them a while back that took a whole lot of their people out of action.”

Her eyebrows shot up. He must be referring to that fiasco last year where the high-tech rifle Eduardo had stolen from the Blackjacks was mysteriously stolen back from the rebels he’d hired to take it. Her father had been furious when the rifle slipped through his fingers. He’d also been livid that nobody seemed to want to tell him exactly how it had happened or how dozens of the rebels had died in the process.. Maybe someday she would manage to pry the story out of Joe.

“Look,” she argued, “I’m no wilting lily. I can stand tromping around in the jungle for a while if it wins me my freedom.”

The driver shocked her by interjecting, “Joe’s right. It’s too dangerous to try to move you out of the city right now. Believe me, he has examined every option. And the war severely limits his options.”

She frowned. “But the government regained control of the capital months ago. It’s safe enough for us to fly out of the airport. If you’re worried about the cost, I have credit cards that would easily cover the cost of hiring a jet--”

Joe cut her off. “It’s not about the money. It’s about the danger. There are still nightly bombings, kidnappings and assassinations in St. George.”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about crimes like that?”

“Your father is undoubtedly not interested in seeing news outlets report on the atrocities being committed by the revolution he’s funding. You’re more isolated at his estate than you realize, Carina.”

“My father is funding the rebels?” she exclaimed.

Joe replied, quickly, “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

Not bloody likely. Her father was paying to take down the government of Gavarone? Actually, it made a certain kind of sense. It was exactly the sort of thing Eduardo would do. His ambitions certainly extended to buying an army and controlling a small country. Nausea rumbled in her gut. She didn’t want to think about the hundreds or thousands of people he was responsible for killing with this newest little venture of his.

And as for Joe…his act had slipped for a minute there. His mask of casual reserve had fallen away to reveal the passionate man beneath.

But then he commented lightly, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to avoid marrying me, princess. What’s the matter? Aren’t I your type?”

“Oh, you’re my type, all right,” she blurted out before she realized what she was saying. Her gaze snapped to his. Sure enough, he was staring a hole through her, his eyebrows hovering up around his hairline. His only response was to reach over and take her hand in his.

The interior of the car went silent. Her entire awareness focused on her palm pressing against Joe’s bigger, warmer one. Lord, even the smallest touch from him did funny things to her pulse.

They drove for a while toward an affluent residential section of St. George. Large homes nestled behind tall fences and iron gates and thick landscaping that hid most of them from view.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, breaking the thick silence.

The driver answered from up front, “To pay a little visit to a man named Miguel Cabot.”

She gasped as the name of one of her father’s most loyal supporters congealed in a knot of horror in her throat. “Judge Cabot?” she managed to choke out.

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “You know something about him that we don’t?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “He’s got his hand so deep in my father’s pockets he could scratch Eduardo’s…kneecaps.”

Joe smiled beside her.

“This isn’t a joke,” she hissed at him. “He’ll run straight to my father.”

He nodded. “That’s the idea.”

Huh?

Joe explained, “Who better to marry us? Your father will believe Judge Cabot immediately when the man tells Eduardo we’re legally and properly married.”

“But what if he calls my father before the ceremony to ask if it’s all right?”

The driver answered casually, “He won’t.”

“I’ll bet you a hundred bucks he talks to Eduardo first,” she retorted.

“I’ll bet you a thousand he doesn’t,” the driver shot back.

Carina blinked. For the hired help, the guy was pretty hostile toward her. She was generally well liked by the working classes in Gavarone because she tipped lavishly and was forever giving away ridiculous sums of money to the poorest among them. If this driver was Gavronese, he ought to be delighted to drive her in anticipation of a hefty reward.

Suspicion that he was another member of the Blackjacks hit her and, just as quickly, froze into certainty. The driver had good reason to hate anyone with the name Ferrare. As did Joe.

Her horrified gaze swiveled to her fiancé. Why hadn’t she seen this before? She’d guessed he was with the Blackjacks, but she’d let her attraction to him blind her to the reality of who he was and what it actually meant.

Joe said he was here to help her. To rescue her. But was he really? Was it possible that Joe had been setting her up as bait this whole time so he and his buddies could draw out her father and kill him? From what her father said about these American soldiers, they were fully capable of harming a noncombatant like her to get at her father.

Nah. No matter how little she knew Joe, there was no way he would hurt her. She would bet her life on it. Hell, she was betting her life on it.

In fact, she was betting her life on it.

Joe interrupted her distressing thoughts, saying mildly, “Don’t take that bet, Carina. You are right—Judge Cabot will absolutely make a phone call to your father first. Thing is, I’ve arranged for a little intervention in the phone lines at the good judge’s house.”

She searched his face in the dark, trying to make out the expression in his eyes. “What sort of intervention?”

“An actress I’ve hired for the occasion will take the call, which will be conveniently diverted from the regular phone lines. She’ll pose as a housekeeper in your father’s home and will tell the judge that Señor Ferrare is not available at the moment. There’s some sort of uproar over the fact that Carina has disappeared with her fiancé and nobody knows where they’ve gone. Señor Ferrare is threatening to make them get married tonight if Mr. Joe does not bring Miss Carina home soon.”

She stared at Joe. Blinked a couple of times. And then burst out laughing. “That’s brilliant!”

He flashed that devilishly charming smile of his and, for the first time since they’d gotten into the car, her panic abated a little. They might just pull this off after all.

But then something else struck her. If Joe had hired an actress and already spliced into the judge’s home telephone line, he’d definitely been planning to do this tonight. He hadn’t exactly lied to her outright about having planned this little excursion in advance, but he hadn’t been completely square with her about it, either.

Although, it wasn’t like either one of them was being blindingly honest with each other. She’d been careful to keep up her spoiled-little-rich-girl act, and who the heck knew who Joe Smith really was beneath that easygoing, I’m-just-a-friend-of-your-sister’s act?

They made a good pair.

The car slowed down, turned into a driveway and stopped at an electronically controlled gate.

The driver leaned out the window and announced, in flawless Spanish, “Miss Carina Ferrare to see Judge Cabot.”

The security man on the other end of the intercom sounded startled as he answered, “Come up to the house right away, of course.”

Amazing the reaction the Ferrare name garnered in this town. God, she hated being her father’s daughter. But, as always, she schooled her facial expression to one of casual acceptance of the guard’s reaction.

The driver closed his window and the car rolled forward smoothly again. She noticed him staring at her in the rearview mirror. “Do they always jump like that when they hear your name?” he asked.

She shrugged. But keeping the move nonchalant took some effort. “Pretty much.”

As they came into view of the floodlights illuminating the front of Judge Cabot’s house, Joe muttered, “Stay in the car. I want to have a look around before you get out.”

She was used to the procedure. The only surprise this time was how quick Joe was about it. By the time he’d slowly walked around from his side of the car to hers and opened the door for her, she heard him mutter to the driver, “All clear, Tom.”

Tom? Her gaze snapped to the back of the driver’s head. Was that the legendary Colonel Tom Foley? Heck, her father had supposedly crippled the guy’s leg just last year. Ruined his career according to Eduardo. It would certainly explain his hostility toward her and her family.

Joe’s hand appeared in front of her face and she reached out to take it. His fingers were warm and deceptively strong as they wrapped around hers. But then all of Joe was deceptively strong. She’d been surprised a couple of times when they’d been dancing just how easily he picked her up and swung her around, as if he hardly noticed her weight.

Panic jumped and kicked like a scared colt in her stomach again. “Are you sure about this?” she asked him one last time.

His gaze met hers. For a moment, his black eyes were as hard as nails. But the expression in them melted so quickly into a warm smile that she almost wasn’t sure she’d seen the former.

“I’m sure, princess.”

She noted the fact that he didn’t ask her the same question. Not interested in giving her any opportunity to back out, was he? Smart man. Because right about now, the long driveway stretching into the night behind her was looking really good.

The sprawling house’s front door opened and a gray-haired man wearing neatly pressed chino slacks and a black polo shirt stepped out onto the covered porch.

“Carina, mi querida! You’re as lovely as ever. Come in, come in.”

She wasn’t his dear, thank you very much. He was as corrupt as they came, using his courtroom as a weapon to promote crime and suffering among the people of Gavarone. Given her druthers, she would spit in his face.

“Judge Cabot,” she said warmly. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your evening at this late hour, but I need your help.”

The judge gave a worried look around at the night, as if ears were growing on the gardenia bushes by the front door. “Let us speak inside of how I may help you.”

Joe’s hand slipped under her elbow as they walked up the front steps, ostensibly to help her, but she would lay odds he was worried about her bolting.

She was surprised to see that Colonel Foley—if that was who he really was—followed her and Joe inside. Normally, a chauffeur would stay with his car. She should probably pass him off as her bodyguard so Judge Cabot wouldn’t get suspicious.

She looked over her shoulder at the American colonel. “I’m perfectly safe inside the judge’s house. But if my father’s orders are to stick with me at all times, do stay out of the way, all right?”

Foley’s eyes registered surprise for the slightest instant, then approval. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied gruffly.

The judge led them to a combination library/office lined with law books and sporting a giant, cluttered desk. It was an insult to the law to have this man pretend to actually care what was inside those leather-bound volumes. Aloud, Cari simpered, “What a lovely room! Look at all those pretty books!”

Judge Cabot smiled, his gaze sharp but his voice obsequious. “What can I do for you at this unusual hour, my dear?”

“I want you to marry me.”

Cabot gaped. “I beg your pardon?”

She laughed gaily. “I don’t mean I want you to be my husband. I mean I want you to perform a marriage ceremony for me and my boyfriend…my fiancé.” She dragged Joe forward by the arm to stand beside her.

Cabot paused, obviously thinking fast. She could see the wheels turning, assessing how her father would react if he went through with her request. Doubt and fear trickled across his features before he finally said heavily, “Ah. Well, my dear, there are certain legalities that must be observed. I’m afraid it will be impossible for me to marry you two lovebirds this evening….”

Joe reached into his back pant pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “If it’s the marriage license you’re worried about, I’ve got it right here.”

Cabot’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He looked more than a little annoyed. But, interestingly enough, he continued to address himself solely to her and ignored Joe. “Actually, I’m more worried about what your father will think of this, Carina. You don’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of seeing his baby girl become a bride, do you?”

She waved an airy hand. “Oh, he’s been telling Joe to make an honest woman out of me for weeks now. He’ll be thrilled.”

Cabot looked skeptical. “Well,” he drawled, “if you’ve already got the license and you have your father’s blessing…” He took a step toward the door. “Wait here. There are several things I’ll need to get if we’re going to have a wedding. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Joe and Foley exchanged significant looks as the judge left the room.

She muttered under her breath, “There goes the bet.”

Foley flashed her a brief smile. But then Joe took her hand in his. “How are you holding up?” he murmured.

“So far, so good,” she mumbled back, as aware as he apparently was that there could be microphones hidden in this room. She plucked at her red dress. “I can’t believe I’m going to get married in this outfit. I always imagined I’d wear some outrageously expensive designer gown—white of course, and covered in lace and pearls.”

Joe glanced down at her attire and fire blazed in his eyes. “I dunno. A sexy red dress seems just right for the occasion if you ask me.”

She laughed. “And that’s why the groom doesn’t pick the dress. If men had their way, brides would wear naughty lace lingerie down the aisle.”

He grinned widely. “Now you’re talking.”

She heard a noise in the hall and quickly leaned into Joe, plastering herself to him from chest to ankle. She purred, “That’s why I’m marrying you, darling. You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

The judge walked in just then, and when she drew away from Joe, his arm came up, trapping her against him. Good point. It probably was a good idea for the judge to see them crawling all over each other like cats in heat. All the more reason for him to get them safely married as soon as possible.

Cabot cleared his throat. “My wife will be down in just a minute. We’ll need two witnesses for the ceremony, and if your driver will consent to be one of them, Josefina will stand in as the second.”

Joe’s actress had obviously convinced the judge that Eduardo wanted them married.

Carina answered the judge carelessly, not even bothering to glance over at Foley. “Of course he’ll be a witness.” Servants in this country, particularly her father’s, were expected to do what they were told and not ask any questions.

An attractive woman of middle years came into the room, patting her hair in place. A giant diamond glittered on her hand, impossible to miss. Cari’s gaze narrowed. Josefina Cabot was an extremely well turned out woman, compliments of Eduardo’s bribes to her husband. She supposed she shouldn’t blame Josefina for being married to a crook, but she still didn’t like seeing the woman wearing thousand-dollar sweaters and hundred-thousand-dollar rings paid for in other people’s blood.

Cari exchanged air kisses with Cabot’s wife, who gushed, “How exciting this is! So romantic. To elope with a handsome young man. Ah, to be your age again, Carina.”

The most exciting part for the woman was going to be all the attention she got when she called everyone she knew to gossip about this secret ceremony two minutes after it was over.

“Are we ready, then?” Judge Cabot asked. “Come stand over here in front of me, you two.”

A rush of heat swept over Cari and she actually felt light-headed. Great. That was all she needed to fuel Josefina’s rumor mill. Fainting at her own wedding. But then Joe’s magical hands were there again, one in the small of her back and the other at her elbow, steadying her and guiding her forward to stand beside him in front of the judge.

Her body didn’t feel like it belonged to her. She listened in mild disbelief as the judge droned through the wedding ceremony, lecturing them about the sanctity of marriage, how it was a sacred oath unto death.

Unto death. She prayed fervently that this harebrained scheme wouldn’t end up with Joe—or her—dying at her father’s hands. She ought to call this off. Tell Joe to save himself and forget about helping her.

But as surely as she was standing here, going through with this insanity, so would he. She might not have the slightest idea who Joe Smith was beneath the mask he always wore, but she knew one thing about him for sure. He would never just walk away from her. Not after he’d promised to rescue her from her father.

She gulped as Judge Cabot turned to her and said, “Repeat after me. I, Carina Inez di Ortolo Ferrare, do take thee—” a pause while Cabot glanced down at the marriage license in his hand “—Joseph Chavez Smith, to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

Emotion was so thick in her throat that she could hardly breathe. What was it? Fear? Sentimental sappiness? This wasn’t a real wedding, after all. It was just pretend. But darned if her throat didn’t clench up around the familiar phrases, “to have and to hold” and “in sickness and in health.”

In minor shock, she listened to herself promising to love, honor and cherish Joe until death did they part. Lord, that felt really real!

And then it was Joe’s turn. She looked up at him, not sure if she was more stunned or frightened. And then, of course, there was the whole question of whether she ought to be more afraid of God’s or her father’s reaction to this farce.

Joe’s hand tightened on hers and his gaze captured hers with mesmerizing intensity.

“I, Joseph Chavez Smith, do take thee, Carina…”

His voice rolled over her and through her, compelling in its quiet certainty. Conveying reassurance. A promise that he would not let her come to any harm. And then he did something odd.

The judge intoned, “I vow to love, honor and cherish you all the days of our lives….”

But Joe repeated, “I vow to love, honor and protect you all the days of our lives….”

Her vision blurred and her eyes started to burn.

Tears filled her eyes until Joe was little more than a dark smudge before her.

And then the tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks in hot tracks. She couldn’t reach up to brush them away since Joe had a death grip on her hands. But just as well. Josefina Cabot could tell all her friends that the bride had cried with happiness.

Surprisingly, it was Joe who reached up with his fingertips to catch her tears and press them to his lips. How romantic. If she’d truly been in love with this man, the gesture would have melted her heart. She glanced up at Joe in gratitude and was riveted by what looked like passion shining in his gaze. He was looking at her like he was completely enthralled. Her heart flip-flopped.

And then she remembered. It was all an act. But, Lord, what an act it was. If he’d felt that way about her for real, she would be completely blown away.

Behind them, Josefina gave a sappy sigh. The tabloids would no doubt report that the groom adored his bride, who worshiped him in return.

She blinked as she realized Judge Cabot was asking for the rings.

Oh, God. Rings. Rings hadn’t even crossed her mind.

But Joe calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out two gold wedding bands. His, an unadorned ring of plain yellow gold. But hers was the surprise. It looked like an antique. It was definitely not new, for it bore the dings and scratches of many years spent on someone’s finger. She didn’t have time to examine it closely, but at a glimpse, it looked carved in an intricate pattern of vines, leaves and flowers in different colors of white, rose and yellow gold, set with diamonds in the center of each flower. “It’s lovely,” she breathed.

“My grandmother’s,” he murmured back.

As she looked down at Joe slipping the ring onto her finger, Cari realized her hands were trembling. And shockingly, she felt a faint tremor pass through Joe’s hand as she slipped on his ring.

So he wasn’t completely unaffected by this whole wedding thing, either, was he?

At least they were in it together. And that thought comforted her more than she’d expected.

Judge Cabot droned through the closing lines of the ceremony, talking about what God had joined together no man tearing asunder. Maybe he should be saying, let Eduardo Ferrare not tear them asunder.

She realized she was gripping Joe’s hands fiercely, as if by hanging on tightly enough, she could keep Eduardo from coming between them. She tried to loosen her grip on the poor guy, but for some reason, couldn’t bring herself to do it. She needed the solid comfort of his strength, needed the way he absorbed her tension, needed the physical contact with him to remind her that he was real while the rest of this was not.

And then it was over. Judge Cabot declared them husband and wife. And announced that Joe could kiss his bride. Oh, my. Another kiss.

Husband and wife.

Damn. Words Joe had never expected to hear in conjunction with him. And certainly not in this place or time or with this woman.

You may kiss your bride.

Now why did his heart skip a beat like that? He’d kissed her before. And it had nearly devolved into public sex. He’d hung on to control by a thread. A hell of a kiss it had been. Not the sort of chaste lip-lock appropriate to this occasion, in front of his boss, not to mention Judge Cabot, who was one of Eduardo Ferrare’s closet cronies.

Joe looked down at Carina and she gazed back at him in trepidation. Lord, she was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. Stunning. And she was his wife.

For an instant, he allowed himself the fantasy that it was real. And in that moment, his heart swelled with pride—and with something else he damned well didn’t care to identify.

He bent his head down and kissed his bride.

Their lips touched and fireworks ignited in his skull, all but blasting his eyes out of their sockets. Her mouth was soft and warm and so sweet it made his knees weak. His hand crept behind her neck, drawing her closer, and on cue, she flowed into him like water.

Her lips clung to his while her hands looped over his shoulders, leaving her body beneath that naughty little red dress open to the explorations of his roaming hands, which seemed to have taken on a mind of their own. His fingertips slid over her bare back, warm and satin-smooth like the rest of her. He could drown in this woman—

“Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat in the distance. “Ahem.”

Damn. Cabot. Joe lifted his head but was close enough to hear the little moan of protest in the back of Cari’s throat.

“We have some paperwork to fill out. The license to sign.”

Relieved to have something to do to take his mind off that smoking hot kiss, Joe tucked Cari’s hand under his arm and followed the judge over to the desk. He signed his name to the documents below Cari’s surprisingly neat, almost spare signature. He would’ve pegged her as the sort who embellished her name with curlicues and dotted her I’s with hearts.

Wrong again. Just when he thought he was getting to know her, she up and surprised him again. There was more to this woman than met the eye, that was for sure.

He stepped back so Josefina Cabot and Colonel Foley could sign and witness the marriage license—Foley using a false name, of course.

As the judge started to put the freshly signed marriage license in a drawer, Joe asked him, “May I please have a photocopy of that?”

Cabot looked up. “The official copy will be mailed to you in a few weeks.”

Joe grinned lopsidedly. “I’m afraid that won’t be soon enough. I’m expecting to need a copy of it in about an hour. I would hate for my wife to be a widow by morning.” The words my wife felt exceedingly strange on his tongue. But all in all, they didn’t taste too bad.

Cabot grunted in rich understanding. He was probably scared spitless that he was a dead man, too. The judge ran the license through his scanner/printer and handed Joe the warm sheet of paper.

“Good luck,” the man said quietly.

Joe grinned back at him. “Here’s hoping luck has nothing to do with it.”

“Better you than me,” Cabot mumbled under his breath.

Josefina spoke up. “Can I get you newlyweds something to drink? A glass of champagne, perhaps, to toast the occasion?”

“Thank you, ma’am, but I think not,” Joe answered politely. “It’s late, and we’ve imposed on you and your husband far too much already. We need to be getting back before Mr. Ferrare worries unnecessarily about where I’ve taken his daughter.”

As he’d anticipated, neither of the Cabots had the slightest interest in causing Eduardo any unnecessary worry. His comment ended all argument about them sticking around to celebrate.

Joe reached for Cari and placed a proprietary hand on her back. Damn, that gentle inward curve of her slender spine felt good under his palm. He guided her from the room and left Colonel Foley to tag along behind them. But as they approached the front door, the colonel stepped around them and hurried down the porch steps to open the car doors.

In a matter of seconds, Joe ushered Cari into the sedan, closing the door behind her. With a last wave of thanks to the Cabots, he climbed into his side of the car. The house retreated into the night.

It was done. He’d married Carina Ferrare. And now all he had to do was live through the next hour.

Thankfully, Foley managed to avoid any military patrols in the area. The man had a sixth sense for that sort of thing.

The closer they got to Ferrare’s oceanfront estate, the quieter Carina got. She seemed to shrink into her seat as she pulled inward more and more.

Joe wasn’t exactly looking forward to facing her father, either. Eduardo had a legendary temper and was known for killing people first and asking questions later. It would be the toughest moment of this whole op.

It was possible that Cari was faking the silent desperation rolling off of her, but Joe doubted it. Although, her big sister was an Academy Award-caliber actress when the need arose. He supposed growing up around their father made that a necessary survival skill.

Long before he was ready, Joe saw the massive outline of Eduardo Ferrare’s mansion ahead. The whole place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Crap. His abrupt departure with Carina from the disco had kicked the hornet’s nest but good.

Time to face the music.

“Ready?” his boss asked, looking through the rearview mirror at Joe.

Like he was ever going to be ready to face the most vicious bastard in the western hemisphere with nothing but his wits and a marriage license to protect him. Aloud, Joe answered, “As ready as I’m ever gonna be. Let’s do it.”