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“And what do I tell my family when I call them?”
“You can't call them. I don't trust either the land lines or the airwaves here. Either one could be monitored.”
She shook her head. “You're going to have to figure out some way to let me call. Unless you want my uncles arriving in the middle of your big plan, of course.”
Which didn't sound like such a bad idea to her, actually.
“How would they know where to find you? You didn't have time to call anyone when we left.”
“For that matter, I don't know where we are exactly,” she admitted. “But I wouldn't be particularly surprised if my uncles track me down within twenty-four hours. You do remember who they are, don't you?”
He frowned. “I'm well aware that your uncle Jared is a rancher, since I spent nearly a year living with his family.”
“And my uncles Tony, Joe and Ryan are private investigators. Very good ones. And very protective of all their family members—even one who is on their payroll. Me.”
“You work for the D'Alessandro and Walker agency?”
“So you do remember them.”
“Vaguely. It seemed like your family found an excuse nearly every week to have some sort of party at the ranch. I couldn't help but remember a few details about them.”
“Then you should also recall that we're an extremely close family.” Almost suffocatingly close sometimes, she almost added. “They'll start looking.”
“You can send them an e-mail,” he said after a moment. “I have a small computer in my luggage. You can use that. Don't keep a copy.”
“And what should it say?” she asked.
“That you've decided you need a few days of vacation and they don't need to worry about you. You're twenty-seven years old. You don't have to ask permission to take a few days off, do you?”
He remembered an awful lot about her. Of course, she knew he was twenty-nine, because he was two years older than she, almost to the day.
“It's not something I've done before. Take off on impulse, I mean.” Even though she had often wished she could.
“Then it's about time you did, wouldn't you say?”
“Maybe. But this wouldn't exactly be my first choice of vacations.”
“Yeah?” Looking more masculine than he should have against the froufrou fabric, he stretched an arm along the back of the sofa. “So what would be your first choice?”
“Well…I don't know. I haven't really thought about slipping off on my own.”
His beautifully shaped lips curved into a very slight smile. “Liar.”
Okay, so maybe she had indulged in a few daydreams lately about getting away from the usual routines. “I guess I've thought about it once or twice,” she muttered.
“To where?”
“Anywhere. I've hardly been out of Texas. I've always wanted to go someplace really different and exotic—like—like Singapore. Or Hong Kong. Or Bali.”
And then she shook her head impatiently. “Darn it, you're doing it again. Distracting me from the questions you don't want to answer.”
Still wearing that annoyingly inscrutable smile, he merely looked at her.
“Will you at least reassure me that I won't be helping you break the law if I stupidly agree to go along with this ridiculous charade?”
He never changed expression. Nor did he bother to say anything.
She scowled fiercely-not that she figured it would affect him. “So my choices are to cooperate with everything you say even though you won't tell me why or refuse to go along and risk having Bernard make me disappear.”
