“We’ve got you set up over here, sir.” Brant gestured to a protected corner of the roof that left only two sides open. A small sofa had been placed on the roof along with a blanket.

“Thanks, Brant.” With his hand on her back, Nick guided Sam to the appointed spot.

“Much more cozy than last year,” Sam said.

“And far less private.” The agents had faded into the darkness, but they—and others—were watching closely. They’d been told to tell no one of their plans for New Year’s Eve. If no one knew where they were, the chances of any sort of incident were minimized.

Sam snuggled up to him. “We’ll make the most of it.”

He put his arms around her and tossed the blanket over them. “I remember how cold you were last year even though you pretended otherwise.”

“How could I be cold when you were holding me and making me hot for you the way I always am?”

“Mmm,” he said in a low growl that sent shivers dancing down her spine. “I love that you’re always hot for me. This, right here...” He hugged her in closer to him. “The best thing in my life, hands down.”

“And the boy.”

“And the boy,” he said. “Thank you for the most amazing year of my life. A year ago tonight, if I’d employed my wildest imagination, I never could’ve conjured up the year we’ve spent together. Just when I think I love you as much as a man can possibly love a woman, I find out there’s more.”

Sam sighed with pleasure and delight at the magic she found in his arms. “I keep waiting for it to get real, you know?”

“How do you mean?”

“The blush has to wear off the rose eventually, doesn’t it?”

Chuckling, he said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen to us, babe. It keeps getting better all the time. Especially lately. Living in the bubble like we are, the time we spend by ourselves out of the spotlight is even more important than it used to be.”

“My New Year’s resolution is to spend as much time completely alone with my husband as I possibly can.”

“Your husband wholeheartedly approves of that resolution.”

“What’s yours?”

“To continue to love my wife and son with everything I have to give them.” He sealed his resolution with a kiss that ended when the first of the fireworks erupted over the city, casting the landmarks in vivid blues and reds.

Sam appreciated the way he used his muscular frame to shield them from the watchful eyes of his detail. She caressed his face, dragging her index finger over his lower lip that was still damp from their kisses. “Same time and place next year?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Three

They arrived home to Shelby asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Avery’s arms. The agent was awake, watching the New Year’s festivities in Times Square on TV. Nick hated having that guy in his house, but Hill’s attentions were now focused on Shelby rather than Sam. At least he hoped so.

Every so often he caught him looking at Sam with something way outside the bounds of friendship, and at those times, Nick wondered if he’d really moved on or if he was merely using their wonderful personal assistant to stay close to Sam. If Nick ever discovered that to be true, he’d have the agent transferred to an outpost in Siberia so fast his head would spin.

He’d like to think he was above using his position for his own agenda, but in the case of the FBI agent who had a “thing” for his wife, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him removed from her orbit if it came to that. So he kept a close eye on the guy who seemed to be around their house more and more often lately. With all the women in the District he could be dating, why their personal assistant?

Not that Shelby wasn’t fabulous—she was. Any guy would be lucky to date her. But Nick found the situation curious at best, fishy at worse. So while Sam talked to Hill, Nick went through the motions of hanging their coats in the front hall closet. He hoped Hill would get the hint and go home so Nick could take his wife to bed.

What if he said that? “Hill, could you please leave? I need to make mad, passionate love to my wife, and you’re screwing things up just by being here.” Nick smiled to himself as he imagined the look of utter scorn he’d receive from Sam if he said it, but damn, he wanted to. Rather than get himself in trouble when he was planning to get very lucky, he went into the kitchen to fix himself a nightcap from the bottle of bourbon Graham O’Connor had given him on the one-year anniversary of John’s death.

Rather than wallow in their ongoing grief, they’d chosen to toast their son and best friend with drinks and cigars that had left Nick feeling rather sick at the end of the evening. But they’d gotten Graham and his wife, Laine, through the day, and that was all that mattered. One year. How was it possible that John had already been gone a year? He’d never believe the changes to all their lives since then, most particularly Nick, who’d gone from John’s chief of staff to the Senate to vice president of the United States in one short dizzying year. He’d also gone from single to married to fatherhood in the same year.

The best part, by far, had been reconnecting with Sam in the wake of John’s murder. That something so amazing and life-changing could’ve come from the worst day of his life was nothing short of a miracle. She was a miracle. His miracle.

She came into the kitchen looking gorgeous in the clingy, sexy black dress, her cheeks still red from the cold, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hiding out?”

“Nothing of the sort.” He held up his glass. “Having a nightcap. Join me?”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Feeling risky tonight, are you?” Bourbon wasn’t usually her drink of choice, but he poured her a couple of fingers nonetheless. “Is he gone?”

“They both are, so you can come out of hiding. I’m proud of you, though, for leaving me alone with him.” She patted his face indulgently. “My little boy might be growing up.”

Amused, he took a sip of his drink. “Does thinking about how quickly I could have him transferred to Siberia count as growing up?”

“Nick...”

“What? I didn’t say I was doing it. I simply said I’d thought about it.”

She shook her head and grinned at him. “Want to know what I was thinking about?”

“Always.”

“You’ll have to come upstairs to find out.” Taking her drink with her, she left the kitchen and headed for the stairs.

Curious and aroused and amused, he went after her, watching the gentle sway of her exceptional ass on the way up. That she put a little extra swing in her step for his benefit wasn’t lost on him. His detail had disappeared into what used to be his study and now served as command central. The loss of the office space was a small price to pay for being allowed to remain in their home. He had no idea what the agents did all night while he slept, and he honestly didn’t care.

Before the new job, Nick had craved the time alone with Sam at the end of every long day. Now he absolutely lived for it. From the moment their bedroom door closed behind them, they were completely alone until seven the next morning, at which time he was required to check in with the detail—five days a week. On weekends, they gave him until nine. In private, he and Sam referred to it as his “prison schedule.”

In the hallway outside Scotty’s room, Darcy, one of the agents assigned to his son’s detail, stood when she saw them approach.

“Good evening, Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano, and Happy New Year.”

“Same to you, Darcy.” He gestured to Scotty’s door. “May we?”

“Of course.”

By now, Scotty’s detail was accustomed to the fact that they never went to bed without checking one last time on their sleeping son. After being away from him, even for a few hours, they needed to lay eyes on him.