"That's your choice."
"Why do you owe me?"
She didn't answer.
"I'm going to find out, you know," he said softly. "I'm not going to stop until I do."
And Gabe Falkner's determination was legendary. She had made a mistake. She should have left it alone, but she had been afraid his sense of obligation would be stronger than his curiosity. "We'll see. You'll probably forget all about it when you get back to the States."
"I won't forget. Not about Said Ababa and not about you." He paused. "You definitely top my list of unforgettable people."
He topped her list of unforgettable people also. She suddenly knew she had wanted him to be less than the larger-than-life man she had studied all these years. Maybe the reason she had been so determined to free him was that she, too, had wanted to be released from bondage. Instead she was finding herself drawn even tighter, closer.
"I'm flattered, but that would be pretty stupid of you. You'll have to work on it. There's no sense dwelling on people who are no longer in your life." She pointed to the hills in the distance. "You see that hill with the bald top? There's a small plateau just behind it where a helicopter can land. We'll set up camp, radio your people in Sedikhan, and then wait for the helicopter."
"Oh, will we?"
That hadn't pleased him either. She sighed. "Cripes, what do you want me to do? Put on that blasted veil again and meekly let you handle everything? It's a good plan."
He suddenly smiled. "I know it is. Sorry, you ruffled my feathers again."
His smile was warm and as rare as the man himself, and she felt a sudden despair. It was hard to keep a distance from a man who could admit he was wrong. How the devil was she going to forget the bastard, if he kept showing her facets of himself she found appealing?
"Well, I guess your feathers aren't as easily ruffled as some I've run across. I suppose I'll forgive you."
His smile deepened with amusement. "I'm most gratified."
Ronnie looked up from the fire she was building as Gabe turned off the radio. "Who's John?"
Gabe strolled over, then dropped down on the ground on the other side of the fire. "John Grant."
"Have you been together a long time? He was all choked up."
"Seven years. He was the producer of my first television news show. He's executive vice-president now." He swallowed. "And I'm pretty choked up myself. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see him again."
No macho denial of emotion. She liked that. Dammit, she was afraid she was beginning to like everything about him. "When I set up the pickup, I talked to a Daniel Bredlowe."
"Dan is my executive assistant."
"They like you." She made a face. "Of course, it's easier to like a boss who's cooped up in a prison than underfoot all the time."
"True, but I really think they don't actually detest me even when I'm around. Of course, I could be wrong."
The fire was burning brightly now and she sat back on her heels. "No, they jumped on the chance of getting you out. Bredlowe even offered to come with me."
"You should have let him. Dan's good in a tight corner."
She giggled as a thought occurred to her. "But where would we have put him in the bordello? Under the bed?"
"Certainly not in it." His voice was suddenly thick. "There wasn't room for anyone between us."
Her cheeks flamed as she remembered him pressed against her, her legs clinging to his naked hips. "No, there wasn't." She looked away from him. "I didn't want outside interference. Evanwas nervous as it was." She stirred the fire. "The helicopter won't get here for an hour or so. My instructions were not to come until full dark. If you like, I could make some coffee."
"Not unless you want some. I'm too wired for caffeine at the moment. I have enough adrenaline running in my veins to run the generator at Hoover Dam."
He didn't look wired. His big body was sprawled catlike on the ground, his head resting on his hand, his gaze fixed intently on her face.
The silence grew and her tension with it. "I've never been to Hoover Dam. It's in Arizona, isn't it?"
He nodded.
"I try to see at least one national treasure whenever I'm in the States. I went to Yosemite last time and a year ago I did Washington, D.C. Have you ever gone to see the Declaration of Independence?"
"Of course."
"There's no 'of course' about it. The guide told me that it wasn't one of the most popular things to see anymore." She shook her head. "I don't understand it. You'd think they'd all want to see it."
'They?'
"Citizens," she said with impatience. "You know, 'we the people.'"
He smiled faintly. "Oh, that 'they.'"
"They don't know what they've got."
"But you know?"
"You bet I do," she said. "I learned it in a dozen countries that never saw a constitution or a bill of rights. Lord, they're lucky."
"Aren't you using the wrong pronoun?"
She had made a mistake and rushed to cover it. "We're lucky," she corrected. "I guess I spend so much time out of the country, my viewpoint is a little remote."
"You didn't sound remote. You sounded passionate as hell."
She considered it better not to answer. Silence again fell between them.
"I wish you wouldn't stare at me," she finally burst out. "I feel like a bug under a microscope."
"You're certainly a very rare species," he said. "And I have to admit I find you a fascinating study."
"I don't know why. I'm pretty ordinary." She amended quickly, "Except for my work; that's exceptional." She reached into the leather bag on the ground next to her, turned on the camcorder, and focused on him.
"The freed captive at ease," she murmured.
"Shut that damn thing off."
"Oh, all right." She turned off the camcorder and set it down. "I'll wait until the helicopter comes and get a shot of you flying off into the sunset."
"Moonlight." Then the full impact of her words hit home and he slowly sat up. "What the hell do you mean? How can you take a shot of me flying off if you're in the helicopter?"
"But I won't be in it," she said. "We part company here. I'm driving the Jeep to Sedikhan."
"The devil you are. That helicopter will be at Marasef airport within thirty minutes of takeoff. You said yourself it wasn't safe to take the road to the border."
"That was only because you were along."
"You're a journalist too. What do you think will happen if you get stopped at the border?"
"I'll try to slide over without them seeing me, but even if they find out who I am…" She shrugged. "I'm small potatoes and they're looking for a big fish."
"Sounds like a smorgasbord," he said caustically. "But I have a hunch you'd be the maincourse. Now, tell me what reason you could possibly have for going by road."
She looked into the fire. "Why should I leave a perfectly good Jeep here to rot?"
"I'll pay for the damn Jeep."
"Why should you? I can just as well drive it across-"
"You go one step near that Jeep and I'll tear out the motor and scatter the parts from here to the Mediterranean."
She set her jaw. "Then I'll walk across the border."
He stared at her. "Lord, and you'd be stubborn enough to do it." He struggled with his temper for a moment and then said quietly, "You may be stubborn, but you're not stupid. What's the real reason you don't want to go with me in that helicopter?"
She didn't answer him.
"If you don't tell me, I'm going to send the helicopter back to Marasef and we'll both drive to the border."
"You can't do that," she said.
"Try me."
Her hands clenched into fists. "You're going to spoil everything. Do you want to end up a prisoner again?"
"No, and I don't want you to, either."
She wasn't going to be able to sway him so she gave in. "There will be too much coverage."
His eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Your helicopter will probably be met in Marasef by half the reporters in the Middle East and the CIA and-"
"What difference does that make? You're a reporter yourself."