He brushed back the wayward hair, and Lainie cautioned herself not to sigh aloud. She wondered whether it would feel as soft and silky as the mink coat it resembled. She managed to blink away the questions.

“We’ve got ourselves a problem here,” Sloan drawled.

Lainie wondered if he realized exactly how big a problem it was for her every time he smiled, and she found herself yearning to place a kiss on the dimple in his chin.

“You mean something other than dodging bullets from the sniper’s gun?” she asked, instead of saying what she thought.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, you know that?” He grinned and took a swig from the long-neck beer bottle that the waitress had just put in front of him.

“Well, excuse me, but I’m not exactly feeling too polite at the moment. I’m tired and irritable. My sister is in the hospital because of me. And I’m sitting here in a heavy raincoat that’s so big it’s falling off my shoulders, wondering whether this may be my last meal.” Her eyes glittered with sparkling green anger.

Sloan thought she was really something special. What other woman would react to being shot at by becoming mad and irritable? He knew most of them would’ve dissolved into a quivering mass of nervous hysterics by now.

But he wasn’t about to mention his admiration to Lainie. “Things could be worse,” he mumbled.

“Oh, really?”

He looked past her to the picture of a bullfighter on the wall. “At least you have people who are worried about you and who would care if you lived or died.”

She opened her mouth to make a remark, but the waitress brought the food just then. Before the plates could be arranged on the table in front of them, they both dug in without another word.

It wasn’t long until Sloan polished off the last flour tortilla and signaled the waitress to bring another beer. “You’re not going to be able to go back home for a while, you know.”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed her last bite of food with a cough. “What? Why not?”

“It won’t be possible to provide you with adequate protection if you just go blithely back to your old routine. After you give your statement to the police detectives, you and I will have to disappear.” He watched as she picked up her fork and squeezed her fingers in a death grip around the handle. “This might be a good time to consider a mini vacation. Someplace where no one will recognize your face.”

“I have to work. With my sister in the hospital, someone needs to do the columns. I have contracts to fulfill and people who are desperate for my advice.”

“Your sister writes the columns?”

“I give the advice, she makes sure it appears in the column the way I intended.”

“I heard somewhere that columnists usually have a couple of weeks worth of columns stashed away for emergencies. What if you were taken ill or had to take some time off for other personal reasons?”

She slid down on the booth’s bench. “I do have a few backup columns. But still, without Suzy I will have to make sure they get turned in and are set the way we expect them to be.”

“Could you give someone else instructions on where to find your files and then check to make sure it’s done properly by using a computer and the Internet?”

She grimaced, heaving a sigh. “I suppose. But…”

“Great. One problem solved,” he interrupted. “We’ll have the captain rig up a laptop for us, and he can send a secretary to your office for your files.” He tipped his beer for a fast sip before he quickly plowed ahead. “Now, the next problem is finding a place to hide out.”

“If this is a vacation, why don’t we just go to a five-star resort somewhere?” she asked as she munched on the tip of her iced tea straw. “I’ve been meaning to try that new place I’ve heard so much about on the Big Island in Hawaii. Why don’t we go there?”

He stopped the chuckle before it escaped his lips. “I don’t think Captain Johnson would be able to afford it, for one thing. And for another, we need to find a place where no one will recognize you, remember?” He was trying to keep the fear out of her eyes.

She ignored his question and honed in on the cost. “Why would Captain Johnson have to pay for it? I’ve got money. We can just put it on my credit card.”

Sloan shook his head and tried to keep the exasperated expression from his face. “Well, that might make some sense…if you had your wallet and credit cards with you. And if—”

“My purse! I forgot I dropped my purse when the shooting started.” The panicked look was back in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’m sure the detectives have found it by now. And you can’t use the cards, anyway. Credit card charges are one of the easiest things to trace. From now on we’re strictly on a cash basis.”