"This is a classic case of be careful what you wish for." Nick placed a stack of folded dress shirts in a suitcase that already held socks, underwear, workout clothes and several pairs of jeans. Only Nick would start packing seven days before his scheduled departure for Europe next Sunday, the day after Freddie and Elin's wedding. "That's the lesson learned here."

"Only anal-retentive freakazoids pack a week before a trip." Sam sat at the foot of the bed and watched him pack with a growing sense of dread. "Three freaking weeks. The last time you were gone that long, I nearly lost my mind, and I don't have much of a mind left to lose."

"Come with me," he said for the hundredth time since the president asked him to make the diplomatic trip, rep-resenting the administration on a visit with some of the country's closest allies. Since President Nelson was still recovering — in more ways than one — from his son's criminal activities, several of the allies had requested he send his popular vice president in his stead.

Sam flopped on the bed. "I can't. I have work and Scotty, and Freddie is going on his honeymoon for two weeks and ... I can't." No Nick at home to entertain her. No Freddie at work to entertain her. The next few weeks were going to totally suck monkey balls.

"Actually, you can." Nick hovered above her, propped on arms ripped with muscles, his splendid chest on full display. "You have more vacation time saved up than you can use in a lifetime, and you have the right to actually use it. Scotty will be fine with Shelby, your dad and Celia, your sisters and the Secret Service here to entertain him. We could even ask Mrs. Littlefield to come up for the weekends."

Their son's former guardian would love the chance to spend time with him, but Sam didn't feel right about leaving him for so long. However, the thought of being without Nick for three endless weeks made her sick. His trip to Iran earlier in the year had been pure torture, especially since it kept getting extended.

"Why'd you have to tell Nelson you wanted to be more than a figurehead vice president?" She play-punched his chest. "Everything was fine when he was ignoring you."

He kissed her lips and then her neck. "You're so, so cute when you pout."

"Badass cops do not pout."

"Mine does when she doesn't get her own way, and it's truly adorable."

She scowled at him. "Badass cops are not adorable."

"Mine is." Leaving a trail of hot kisses on her neck, he said, "Come with me, Samantha. London, Paris, Rome, the Vatican, Amsterdam, Brussels, The Hague. Come see the world with me."

Sam had never been to Europe and had always wanted to go, so she was sorely tempted to say to hell with her responsibilities.

"Come on." He rolled her earlobe between his teeth and pressed against her suggestively. "Three whole weeks together away from the madness of DC. You know you want to go. Gonzo could cover for you at work, and things have been slow anyway."

There hadn't been a homicide in more than a week, which meant they were due, and that was another reason to stay home. "Don't say that and put a jinx on us." "Come away with me. Scotty will be fine. We'll Face-Time with him every day and bring him presents. He'll be well cared for by everyone else who loves him." He kissed her neck as he unbuttoned her shirt and pushed it aside. "You'd get to meet the Queen of England."

Sam moaned. She loved the queen — speaking of a badass female.

"And the Pope. Plus, you'll need some clothes — and shoes. Lots of shoes."

"Stop it." She turned her face to avoid his kiss. "You're fighting dirty."

"Because I want my wife to come with me on the trip of a lifetime? I need you Samantha."

As he well knew, she could deny him nothing when he said he needed her. "Fine, I'll go! But only if it's okay with Scotty and if I can swing it at work."

"Yes," her husband said on a long exhale. "We'll have so much fun."

"Will we actually get to see anything?"

He pushed himself up to continue packing. "I'll make sure of it."

"Um, excuse me."

"What's up?"

"My temperature after your attempts at persuasion."

A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, making him the sexiest man in this universe — and the next. "Is my baby feeling a little needy?"

She pulled her T-shirt over her head and released the front clasp on her bra. "More than a little."

"We can't have that." Stepping to the foot of the bed, he grasped the legs of her yoga pants and yanked them off.

"Lock the door."

"Scotty's asleep."

"Lock the door, or this isn't happening." With Secret Service agents all over their house, Sam couldn't relax if the door wasn't locked.

"This is definitely happening, but if it'll make you happy, I'll lock the door."

"It'll make me happy, which will, in turn, make you happy." She splayed her legs wide-open to give him a show as he returned from locking the door, and was re-warded with gorgeous hazel eyes that heated with desire when he saw her waiting for him.

"You little vixen," he muttered.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, you don't," he said, laughing as he came down on top of her and set out to give her a preview of what three weeks away together might be like.

They broke The news to Scotty the next morning at breakfast. "So," Nick said tentatively, "what would you think if Mom came with me to Europe?"

Thirteen-year-old Scotty, never at his best first thing in the morning, shrugged. "It's fine."

"Really?" Sam said. "You wouldn't mind? Shelby, Tracy and Angela would be around to hang with you, and Gramps and Celia too. We thought maybe Mrs. Littlefield could come up for a weekend or two if she's free."

"Sure, that sounds good."

Sam glanced at Nick, who seemed equally perplexed by his lack of reaction. They'd expected him to ask to come with them, at the very least.

"Is everything okay?" Sam asked her son.

"Uh-huh." He finished his cereal and got up to put the bowl in the sink. "I'm going to finish getting ready for school."

"Okay, bud," Nick said.

"Something's up," Sam said as soon as Scotty left the room.

"I agree. He didn't even ask if he could miss school to come with us."

"I thought the same thing."

"We'll have to see if we can get him to talk to us before we go — and not in the morning," Nick said.

"I'll ask Shelby to make spaghetti for dinner. That always puts him in a good mood." Sam's phone rang, and when she saw the number for Dispatch, she groaned. "Damn it. You jinxed me!" So much for getting out of Dodge without having to worry about work. She took the call. "Holland."

"Lieutenant, there was a fire overnight in Chevy Chase." The dispatcher referred to the exclusive Northwest neighborhood that was home to a former U.S. president, ambassadors and other wealthy residents. "We have two DOA at the scene," the dispatcher said, reciting the address. "The fire marshal has requested Homicide detectives."

"Did he say why?"

"No, ma'am."

"Okay, I'm on my way." Thankfully, she'd showered and gotten dressed before she woke Scotty. "Please call Sergeant Gonzales and Detective Cruz and ask them to meet me there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Sam flipped her phone closed with a satisfying smack. That smacking sound was one of many...