Goodness Had Nothing to Do With It (39 page)

Ronnie's arms locked around his neck as he stepped onto the elevator.

Once they were in the suite, he laid her on the bed and stood above her. She was his; this beautiful, enticing, strong-willed, bighearted woman was his. He almost couldn't take it in.

"I love you, Veronica Danvers."

Her eyes glistened and her mouth curved. "I love you, Marcus Danvers. Forever."

He had always believed that love made you weak, now he knew better. His love for Ronnie made him strong and complete. He looked forward to a life filled with love, joy and the occasional squinty-eyed wife intent on having her own way. It just couldn't get any better than that.

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WILLING,

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Josie's heart fluttered in her chest as Daniel unlocked the door to their hotel room. Facing armed guerillas was not as intimidating as the unknown beyond that door.

She'd known soldiering her whole life, but the man-woman thing and sex were all a complete mystery to her. Other women started heavy petting when she'd been busy learning how to build and dismantle car bombs. The only orgasms she'd known had been of the self-made variety and while they made pretty good battle-tension relievers, they weren't anything to get excited about.

Not like the way she felt when Daniel kissed her.

Which was why she was here, ready to make love for the first time to a man who until that very-morning, she'd been convinced didn't even like her.

He'd acted like he liked her in the park. He'd played with her and she had a feeling their tussling had been as new an experience for him as it had been for her, but the desire they felt was not.

He knew so much more about this than she did.

"My dad wouldn't have taken you on as a partner if you weren't a pretty good teacher, would he?"

Daniel turned his head to look at her, his hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"Your method of teaching isn't tossing someone into a river and seeing if they learn to swim before they drown, is it?" Her voice was high-pitched and her breathing had turned ragged at the edges.

He winked, shocking her to her toenails. "Don't worry, Josette. I won't let you drown."

She swallowed and tried to believe him. He pushed the heavy, ornate wooden door open and indicated she should go in first, but her legs refused to cooperate.

His dark eyes narrowed. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, but I can't seem to get my feet to move."

"You're nervous."

What had been his first clue? The way she equated making love for the first time with death by drowning, or the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look she knew was in her eyes? "I shouldn't be. I'm not a child."

"But you are innocent."

"Only physically." She'd heard and seen things women married for forty years would never experience.

He shook his head, his mouth twitching at the corners. 'Tour heart and your mind are still very innocent, no matter what you think you know."

"Oh really?"

"Yes."

That sparked another set of worries that kept her feet firmly glued to the floor outside their room. "Won't you be bored making love to me, seeing as how I don't know anything?"

"Josette, I could spend the entire night just looking at you and not get bored." His tone wasn't reassuring so much as bewildered.