Page 46 of Winter Vows

“Yes.”

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. The grin spread, displaying the devastating dimple that drove women crazy. “Oh, Sis, you are in such deep trouble.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He regarded her patiently. “Men and women do not agree to be just friends, unless they’re fighting the urge to be a whole lot more.”

She frowned. “And you would know this because...? Is it your vast success rate with members of the opposite sex? Or the psychology degree you apparently received without me knowing about it?”

“Experience,” he insisted, still chortling with glee at what he viewed as her self-deception. “I’ve reached a few of those agreements myself. Meant ’em at the time, too. Bottom line, though? They’re not worth the time they take to spew the words out. In fact, the opposite is true. Once you’ve declared each other off-limits, the attraction escalates. Label something forbidden and everybody wants it. That’s human nature.”

“Thank you, Dr. Ruth.” She was very much afraid he was right. She certainly hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Hardy in a sexual way since she’d made the decision to keep things strictly platonic. In fact, the whole friendship thing was making her a little crazy.

“Just how bad do you have it for this guy?” Dylan asked.

“I don’t. We’re just friends,” she said one more time as if repetition would make it true.

Her brother shrugged. “Fine by me, if that’s the truth. Probably just as well, too.”

Her gaze shot to his face. He was staring out the windshield, his gaze locked on the highway, his expression suddenly way too innocent. “What do you mean, it’s probably just as well?”

“Dad would hate him.”

“Why on earth would he hate him? He’s a fine man, better than Jack the jerk, by a long shot.”

“But he’s not an oilman. He can’t be heir apparent to a vice presidency in the family business.”

“Neither are you, but he tolerates you.”

“I’m blood. He can’t wish me away.”

Trish waved off the whole discussion as absurd. “It doesn’t matter. They’ll probably never even meet.”

Dylan’s expression sobered at last. “Then you don’t intend to tell Dad where you are?”

She sighed. “Sooner or later I suppose I’ll have to. I’m amazed his private detectives don’t already know where I am. After all, you found me.”

“I’m better than most of those goons he keeps on staff. They’re better at white collar crime than chasing wayward daughters.”

“How did you find me?”

“It was pathetically simple, really.”

“How?”

“You transferred your money from your bank account in Houston to the bank here.”

Trish groaned. “I’m obviously not career criminal material.”

“Thank the Lord.”

“You are going to keep this a secret, right? You promised.”

“On two conditions.”

“What?”

“You check in with me regularly.”

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