Two Seahawks, each carrying a squad of men, were going to kick off the presentation. Those men, dressed in BDUs and combat vests, carrying a full a.r.s.enal of weapons, were going to fast-rope down to the parade ground. In a matter of seconds, they would rig an ancient antiaircraft launcher with enough explosives to create a controlled blast that would "put it out of commission."

They would then be pulled back off the parade grounds via helo and SPIE rigging.

It would all take place inside of a few short minutes. And that was just to get the showa"which included plenty of colored smoke and other whiz-bang insertion and extraction techniquesa"started.

They did a dry run of the President's arrival, with the teams of Secret Service men and additional security under the command of Admiral Tucker all swarming the area. Also milling around were the members of the President's staff who would be on hand. Commander Paoletti came and stood next to Muldoon and shook his head at the chaos.

Joan had just walked about a dozen yards away to get: a little privacy for a call coming in on her cell, and the CO looked at her pointedly and then looked back at Muldoon.

"You know, when you first asked to be kept out of the helos for this thing, I thought your knee was bothering you again," Paoletti said quietly. "I thought you were trying to avoid the fast-roping."

Sliding forty feet down a rope from a helo and going immediately into a dead run had been tough on Muldoon's knees before he'd been injured.

"No, sir," Muldoon said. "I'm fine. I still have twinges, and I'm still using the brace, but I'm fully up to speed. I wouldn't lie to you about that."

"I didn't think you were lying, Lieutenant," the CO said easily. "I thought you just conveniently forgot to tell me."

"No, sir," Muldoon said again.

"Yeah, I realize that now," he said, glancing at Joan again. "I'm curious though. Most guys would've leapt at the chance to play hero. Show off a little."

"I'm not going to impress anyone by jumping out of helicopters," Muldoon told the commander. "I'm not exactly sure how I am going to impress ..." Jeez, who was he kidding here? Just use her name. "... Joan, but believe me, sir, I'm working on it."

He had decided to approach his entire relationship with Joan as if it were a mission with a "Do not fail" order. His plan so far was to spend the next few days as close to her as possible.

But no s.e.x. That gigolo crack still stung. He had to make it clear to her that, in his eyes at least, their relationship was about way more than s.e.x.

He'd realized last night, after he'd begged her to take him back to her room, that s.e.x would only serve to make things even more complicated.

He'd realized a lot of things last night.

It had occurred to him then that as much as he wanted to spend all of the next three weeks in bed with Joan, that wasn't going to get him what he really wanted.

And what he really wanted was a long-distance relationship. If that really was the only way they could make a relationship with two high-octane careers work, then dammit, he wanted to try. He wanted a chance at having something real with this incredible woman.

"If that's the case, if you're really determined, Muldoon, then she doesn't stand a chance," Paoletti said. "I'll definitely be dancing at your wedding, kid."

Wedding?

"Uh," Muldoon said. "Well..."

Jeez, the CO actually thought that he and Joan... ?

"Thanks," Muldoon said. "Sir. I'll be, um, sure to invite you."

To his wedding. To Joan. G.o.d, what a thought. What an incredible thought.

Muldoon and Joana"married. He started to laugh. Married. But, hey, why not? He was crazy out of his mind about her. The thought of never seeing her again scared him to death. For days now, he'd been alternating between deep depression and giddy euphoria.

He loved her.

Hopelessly. Endlessly. Totally.

He wanted to wake up every morning knowing that she was in his life.

The COa"as usuala"was as right about this as he was about most things. Muldoon simply hadn't been thinking on a grand enough scale.

He could imagine their weddinga"a simple ceremony where they'd put rings on each other's fingers and seal the promises they made with a kiss. G.o.d, he wanted that so badly he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

He'd never pursued a woman before, not like this. He'd never had to. He'd never wanted to. But like the CO had said, if he was determined...

What would she say if he asked her to marry him?

There are too many obstacles.

Yeah? As Sam Starrett would say, so the f.u.c.k what? What obstacle ever stopped a f.u.c.kin' SEAL?

What Muldoon had to do was find out exactly what her perceived obstacles were and. ..

He had to talk to her. He had to get inside her head. Find out what she was thinking. Let her know what he was thinking, too. G.o.d, he had to let her know what he was feeling.

Okay, that one wasn't going to be either easy or fun, but neither was BUD/S training, and he'd made it through that. You do what you have to do to get the job done. And if that's what it would take...

He had to make Joan see that it was worth it, that what they shared was well worth the hard work that came with a long-distance love affair. The sparks that they made together, and the sheer comfort of the fit that he felt when they were togethera"and he knew she felt it, tooa"was worth keeping. Forever.

He was nota"was nota"just going to let this one go. He wasn't just going to let her slip away from him. Not this time. Not Joan.

And he had to make her realize that he was worth keeping, too.

Paoletti glanced at Joan again. "You know, she made quite an impression on Kelly. Funny and really smart, Kel said. Really sharp, really together."

"Yeah," Muldoon said. "She's fabulous, sir."

"What is it about smart women?" Paoletti asked. "Don't try to answer that, Lieutenant. It was a rhetorical question. Although maybe someone as intelligent as you could actually figure it out. If you come up with anything, let me know, okay?"

Muldoon laughed. "Aye, aye, sir."

It was good to see the commander looking a little more relaxed. Or was he?

As Paoletti watched the Secret Service and other security personnel at work, his eyes narrowed slightly and his mouth got tight.

Muldoon had the feeling that the CO wished nothing more than for this honor to be over with.

"Joan seems to be under the impression that all threats have been diminished," Muldoon said. "The information she's received implies that when the FBI took out that terrorist cell yesterday, they completely eliminated any potential danger to the President. I tried to tell her that wasn't necessarily the case."

Paoletti shook his head and laughed his disgust. "Apparently there's only one al-Qaeda cell operating in this part of California, right? Yeah." He laughed again. "I've made my opinion as clear again today as I did yesterday and the day before, but no one wants to hear ita"especially not since the current threat has been downgraded. And G.o.d knows it's time to start campaigning." He rolled his eyes. "I thank G.o.d I don't have to be reelected as Team Sixteen's CO every few years."

Muldoon did, too. Pa.s.sionately, in fact. Tom Paoletti was a major part of the reason Sixteen was the best team in the Navy. "Twenty-four hours, and it'll all be over, sir."

"Twenty-one hours and twenty-eight minutes, Lieutenant. I'm practically counting seconds here." Paoletti sighed, his easygoing smile fading. "I've actually got a love-hate thing happening with this a.s.signment, if you know what I mean."

"I do, sir." Muldoon watched Joan as whoever was on the other end of her cell phone made her laugh. "The team hasn't had many a.s.signments as easy as this one in a long time. Everyone's benefiting from having extra time to spend with their families." He thought about Sam. "Well, almost everyone."

"I'm glad to be home with Kelly every night," the CO admitted. "Very glad. But I think we're asking for trouble if we all a.s.sume there's no chance of any danger while we're here on base."

"I agree completely, sir. If I were a player on Osama's team ..." Muldoon trailed off. This was probably not what the CO wanted to hear right now.

But Paoletti was looking at him with that thought-penetrating gaze. "Go on, Lieutenant. This should be interesting."

"Okay. I'd look to hit the United States in a place like this. A naval base or military compound. Maybe a federal government building. Someplace believed to be invincible. Do you remember your World War Two history, sir? How after Pearl Harbor we made a point to bomb Tokyo? It was just short of a suicide mission. Jimmy Doolittle and his Raiders took off in bombers from aircraft carriersa"it was the first time in history that was done successfully. The pilots had to ditch over enemy territory because there wasn't enough fuel to get back to the ships. It was a logistical nightmare. But we did it. And we succeeded. Why? Because the j.a.panese government told the world that their island was untouchable. Invincible. Attack-proof. Safe. We intentionally went in there and rubbed their faces in the fact that they were dead wrong. They were not safe, and we demoralized the h.e.l.l out of them.

"If I were a terrorist, that's what I'd try to do to the U.S."

"They're not going to demoralize us," Paoletti countered. "No matter what they do."

"No, it wouldn't work," Muldoon agreed. "It would be 9/11 all over again. But I think they don't get that. They don't understand the way we think. Same way we don't understand them."

"And with that, you have neatly summed up the reason why guys like you and me won't be out of a job for a good long time."

"And why it pays to be ready for anything," Muldoon said.

"That's my plan." The commander smiled. "I've been making so much noise about potential danger I've been a little afraid I'm going to be asked to go in for another series of psych evils. But when that demo starts, I'll be fully in command, and I'll be d.a.m.ned if any bad s.h.i.t is going to go down on my watch. We'll both have radio headsets tomorrowa" along with the rest of the team. While you're on that dais, Muldoon, I want your eyes open at all times. No staring at Joan's a.s.s, do you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Not that you woulda"you're too polite. We'll be running through our part of the show again this afternoon," Commander Paoletti continued, "and we'll actually use real smoke bombs. I want the Secret Service to see what the colored smoke is going to look like. Hopefully, they'll request we don't use any smoke at all after they see how completely it's going to obscure the spectator stands. But that run-through's not scheduled until 1400. After lunch. Admiral Tucker set up some kind of fancy buffet for the President's staff. Any brilliant ideas as to how I can get out of that?"

Lunch ... Muldoon looked over at Joan, who was still talking on her phone. Earlier, he'd asked her to have lunch with him, and although she hadn't given him a definite answer, he suspected he was going to get a no.

Which was a major problem if his goal was to talk to her. Although maybe what he should do was call her. She sure spent a lot of time talking on her phone.

"You never managed to have lunch with Joan," Muldoon told his CO now. "And you did promise her that you would."

"G.o.d bless you, I certainly did. Jenkins!" the commander shouted.

"Yes, sir?" Jenk appeared out of nowhere. He was dressed in cammy gear, with black and green greasepaint streaking his boyish face.

"Send my regrets to Admiral Tucker. I won't be able to join his party for lunch."

"I'll tell him you're real broken up about it, sir."

"And after you do that, call Joan DaCosta on her cell phone and ask if she'd like to join me for lunch at 1200 hours at that Greek placea"what's it called?"

"You mean the Falafel Shack?"

"No, Jenk. The one that has chairs that aren't attached to the plastic tables, and plates that aren't paper. What is it, Alexi's?"

"Actually, Joan would probably prefer the Shack," Muldoon said.

The CO's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, sir. And they do have real tables and chairs. Outside. There's a nice little garden. If you call ahead, Nick will actually reserve a table for you. He pretty much gets his kid to sit there and color until you show up."

"Call Nick at the Shack and tell him to break out the Crayolas a few minutes before noon," Paoletti told Jenk.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Don't forget to talk to Tucker's office first," Paoletti reminded him.

"You got it, boss." Jenkins vanished.

"That's a trick you might want to remember when you're CO of a team and want to avoid lunch with the base commander," Paoletti told Muldoon. "Send your regrets first. That way if your escape plan falls through, well, gee, you've already cancelled, right?"

"I'll keep it in mind, sir."

"You will be able to join us for lunch, won't you, Lieutenant?"

Alleluia. "Permission to kiss you, Commander?"

Commander Paoletti laughed as he headed toward some kind of problem the senior chief appeared to be having with three of the Secret Service agents. "Not a chance, Muldoon.

You're smart enough, but other than that, you're not my type. You're much too polite."

"What are you doing out here?" Charlie asked.

Vince glanced up at her from his seat on the patio. "Sitting."

"I can see that."

"Do you remember when we moved to San Diego we thought it would be so great because we'd be able to spend all that time on the beach?" Vince asked her. "When was the last time we went to the beach? I mean with any regularity?"

"I don't know."

"It was at least thirty years ago." He shook his head. "You loved the beach. Maybe we should have bought that place right on the water. Remember that place?"

She sat down next to him. "Only very vaguely. It was damp and the playroom had all that awful dark paneling."

"It didn't have a playroom. You're mixing it up with that house we looked at that had the swimming pool."

Charlie gave him a look. "How can you possibly remember that?"

"I remember everything important," he said. "Finding the perfect house was always up there in importance. I wanted..." He cleared his throat. He'd wanted to make her happy. Why was it so hard to say these things aloud?

Because if he said it, then she'd say, "You made me very happy." It was an expected response like, "I love you, too." But happiness, like love, couldn't be measured. Vince knew Charlie loved him. Of course she loved him. She loved hima" enough. Enough to marry him and spend sixty years with him, which was a whole h.e.l.l of a lot of enough. And yes, she'd been happya"happy enough. But what did that mean, really? He'd never truly know if she'd really been happy, or if she'd simply been content.

"Remember that day you showed up in Fort Pierce?" he asked her.

"Yes, that one I remember, thank you very much," she said tartly. "Just because / don't have a superhuman, freakish ability to remember houses that we went inside of once a million years ago, doesn't mean I can't remember days like that one."