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the first time, Saber’s attention to piloting the jet was only automatic; she was entirely caught up with what Travis was saying. After a long moment, she said, “Maybe you’d better define your idea of ‘accompanying’ me for a couple of weeks.”
    Bluntly, he said, “I’m not asking you to sleepwith me to avoid my writing the book. No strings, Saber. The only promise I demand is that you treat me as you would any man who was interested in you as a woman. The only promise I’ll give is that I won’t write about you.”
    As blunt as he, she asked, “You’re trying to tell me you’re attracted to me? That’s why you’re willing to give up the book idea?”
    Amused at her dispensing with the euphemistic niceties, he nodded. “That can’t surprise you, surely?”
    Saber, with a year of superstardom behind her and twenty-five years before that of male attention, wasn’t surprised; men found her attractive, and she would have had to be blind not to know that. But to say that she distrusted Travis Foxx’s professed admiration of her would have been a gross understatement.
    “I don’t trust you,” she said matter-of-factly.
    Travis chuckled. “I know that. But you have a choice, Saber. You can refuse my terms, which will only make me very determined to find out what I can about your mysterious past—and I think itonly fair to warn you that I have sources of information you wouldn’t think possible. Or you can accept my terms, thereby keeping your past hidden as long as you want.”
    Saber was smiling now. “I wonder,” she said thoughtfully, “if you’re counting on the well-known feminine response to a challenge. Which are you hoping for? That I’ll dare you to uncover my sordid past? Or that I’ll invite your wonderfully
uninquisitive
self into my life—however temporarily?”
    “Touché,” he replied, laughing. “You’re a very sharp lady, Miss Duncan. We both know I plan to get my answers by whichever path. So it’s up to you.”
    “Isn’t it, though.” Her tone was dry.
    Sobering, Travis said, “In all honesty, I’d rather spend time with you than spend time researching you. And in the former case, you have the satisfaction of knowing that your past will remain hidden to the public.”
    “You’re very sure you can … persuade me to tell you all about myself, aren’t you, Travis?”
    “Quite sure,” he said coolly.
    Her smile widened. “I wonder which of us is more stubborn,” she murmured.
    “Shall we find out?”
    Saber was not a reckless woman, but the challenge in this man’s green eyes was impossible to ignore. “Let’s,” she said suddenly, briskly. “And devil take the hindmost.”
    Travis smiled and nodded. That the lady looked upon this as a challenging game was obvious; that his own motives in playing were quite serious was something he had no intention of trying to persuade her at this early stage.
    An expert sportsman, Travis was hunting this time with more than a story at stake. Much more.
    The Detroit performance went off without a hitch, as Travis was privileged to see from the wings. Saber had treated him casually and companionably all day, allowing him to watch the rehearsal and take her to lunch. She’d seemed not the least bit on guard, but Travis had realized that herserene silver-gray eyes were shields in and of themselves.
    As for himself, he shelved questions about the past and simply absorbed the present. He noted that the members of Saber’s band treated her with affection and respect. The feeling of family was unmistakable and, for Travis, significant, considering that these people lived in the fast-paced and—as far as the public was concerned—decadent world of popular music. They were also quite protective of her: more than one suspicious eye had been cast at him when she’d casually introduced him.
    Travis met suspicion with blandness and watched quietly from the sidelines studying Saber’s professionalism and marveling at her talent. He