Whitney had never been more nervous in her life. And she’d been through a lot of scary situations with the FBI. But being alone with Zack scared her more than she could imagine. She didn’t want to admit how good-looking he was or how she had a very hard time ignoring his magnificent chest, which was what had gotten them into that argument.

Zack hadn’t been flirting with her, but instead, he teased her. For some reason, he knew how much his nearness bothered her, and the irritating man just rubbed it in. Zack Greyson was one fine specimen of a man, and yet, she couldn’t stand him.

Well actually, she didn’t want to tolerate him.

After lunch they had washed dishes together without talking. She hated the uncomfortable silence between them. She’d rather be arguing with him.

He flopped down on the couch and stretched his legs to rest his bare feet on the coffee table in front of him. Automatically, his gaze moved to her. Uncomfortable by his scrutiny, she moved to the big picture window and pulled back the curtains just enough to peek outside.

The afternoon sun brightened up the street. A few children rode bikes down the street. One woman wearing skin-tight spandex gym gear, jogged on the sidewalk on the other side of the street. One man walked his dog, having to stop every five steps because the animal found yet another place to mark his territory.

Up and down the street, the townhouses all resembled the one that they were in. This was a pretty ritzy neighborhood, and because she was raised with a mother who always wanted the best things in life, Whitney knew how pricey these townhouses were.

“So, you don’t think we should stay here?” Zack said, breaking the silence.

Sighing, she turned away from the window and took slow steps toward him. “Actually, I don’t. You’re somewhere that’s familiar. This is your mother’s house, and I’m quite sure if the hitman knows about you or your family, he’ll be able to find this place.”

“How long do you think we have to relax before moving on?”

Stopping by a heavily cushioned mauve chair, she shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“What if we stay here tonight and left early in the morning.”

“I suppose we can do that. I’ll keep watch out the window to make sure we don’t have midnight visitors.”

He cocked his head. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Fine.” He blew out fast breath. “So, if we can’t stay here, where do you think we should go?”

She gave him a small smile. “I’ve been thinking about that since we arrived. I know this place in Maine that’s in the country. It’s miles from town, and we’ll be able to hide perfectly there. But...” She moved her gaze slowly over his face and hair, knowing that unless he changed his appearance, he was going to stick out no matter where they went. There was no doubt about it. She needed to convince him this was the only way to stay hidden.

“But what?” he snipped.

“I think you need to change your look a little,” she said matter-of-factly.

He arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes.”

He crossed his arms over his wonderfully wide chest. “And how exactly do you think you’re going to change me?”

“For starters, we should cut your hair. And, I think you need to start growing a beard and mustache. But keep it trimmed.”

He snickered. “You do, huh?”

“Yes, I do.” She moved to a chair that was closer to him and sat. “Zack, I’ve had my eyes on you for a few months, and every time you switched locations, I was still able to find you. The reason I could spot you from yards away was because you didn’t change the way you looked. You are the same now as you had been when I first met you two months ago.”

He blew out a ragged breath between his lips and nodded. “I get what you’re saying.”

He moved his focus over her very slowly to the point that it became uncomfortable for her. She could tell what was on his mind, already, and she definitely didn’t like it.

Within seconds, he grinned. “I’ll change as long as you change.”

She barked a laugh. “And why would I do that?”

“Didn’t you just tell me you were in danger, too?”

The humor left her quickly. “Yes.”

“Okay, then we need to make you into someone that’s totally different than what you are right now. Don’t you think that’s a good idea? I mean, both of us are in danger, right?”

She gave a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to disguise myself in some way.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Dare I have this thought?” He grinned, teasingly. “What if I let you find me a disguise and I’ll change you into someone that nobody will recognize?”

She gave him a leery look, not trusting him at all. But it didn’t take a Rocket Scientist to know that he didn’t trust her, either. It would be fun to change him, though. And she secretly wanted to know how he wanted to change her look, too.

* * * *

ZACK STUDIED HER CLOSELY, his grin widening by the second. He wasn’t too sure he wanted her to cut his hair, but he couldn’t wait to change her. He’d have a blast making her look like a real woman. For starters, her hair would never be in a ponytail again. Instead, it would hang long and flowing like satin over her shoulders. He’d have her wear a little more makeup, but not so much that she looked like a street-walker. And her clothes... Oh yeah, he’d definitely find something for her to wear that would complement her figure. His mother had always dressed in fashionable clothes. He was sure she had some clothes still hanging in her closet.

Folding her arms, Whitney relaxed in the chair, keeping her gaze locked with his. “I’m almost afraid to ask what plans you have in your head right now.”

He chuckled and stood, reaching a hand toward her. “Come on. Let’s get started on our new disguises.”

“Now?” Her eyes widened.

“There’s no better time than the present, right?”

Whitney nodded, slipped her hand into his, and he pulled her out of the chair. Suddenly, she yanked her hand away from his, almost as if she hadn’t realized that he’d touched her. He held back a laugh.

“Do you know how to cut hair,” he asked, leading the way up the stairs. “Because I’m not going to let just anyone cut my hair.”

“If you must know, before I realized I wanted to become an FBI agent, I went to cosmetology school.”

He glanced at her plain looks. “No... really?”

“I’m not lying, Zack.”

“Well, I’ll give you a try, but if I don’t think you know what you’re doing—”

“Don’t worry, Greyson. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

He took her into the main bathroom on the second floor and found the kit his mother had always used when she clipped his hair. His family started out as any struggling family with low paying jobs and parents who did their best to care for their three children. His mother had also been a beautician. Although now she enjoyed dressing in the latest fashion, driving nice cars, and living in luxurious homes, she couldn’t put aside her love for cutting hair.

Whitney’s gaze narrowed on the scissors and cape that was inside the kit. “Why would you have these in your house?”

He smiled. “Because I make sure my homes are equipped with everything.”

The look on her face let Zack know she didn’t believe him. He laughed, but didn’t say anything as he pulled the stool out from one of the cabinets and placed it in the middle of the floor and sat. She draped the cape around him and fastened it at his neck. The spray bottle was easy to find, and she squirted his hair until it was wet and stringy.

Just as she lifted the scissors to begin, he reached up and grasped her wrist, stopping her. Their gazes met through the mirror’s reflection.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked her.

“Trust me, please. This next little while being together is going to seem like eternity if we can’t trust each other.”

“True.” He sighed. “Exactly how short are you going to cut it?”

“You’ll have a half-inch to an inch around your head.”

“That short?” He whined.

“Yes, that short.” She sighed. “Zack, your appearance needs to change dramatically.”

“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled.

He released her, and she went to work. He watched her closely through the mirror, and so far, she knew what she was doing. And... she acted as though she enjoyed every minute. Just as his mother had whenever she cut his hair.

Closing his eyes, he relaxed as Whitney’s fingers moved through his hair. The soft way she touched him had begun to put him under a spell. He enjoyed the tender way she bumped against him. She still smelled like berries – a scent he was quickly getting used to. A fragrance he enjoyed more and more, in fact.

Slowly, she walked around him as she cut his hair, but when she stood directly in front of him, his heartbeat quickened. He opened his eyes to see how close she was. Too close! She had somehow maneuvered herself between his opened legs. Maybe he shouldn’t have straddled the stool so much.

He studied her baggy shirt, and especially the opening at her throat. She had a slender neck and flawless skin, from what he could see. The urge to press his lips against that spot just to see how smooth her skin was, became overpowering. He’d always liked kissing a woman’s neck – among other places, of course. Whether it was the way the woman trembled when his mouth moved over her throat, or if it was the pleasant fragrance coming from her, he didn’t know. He just enjoyed that spot and making them melt in his arms.

Thank goodness his hands were underneath the cape or else he would slide them to her waist and pull her closer...

Greyson, snap out of it! Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on regulating his uneven breathing. Maybe if he acted like he was falling asleep and just let his face drop forward...

“There. What do you think?” Whitney asked as she stepped back.

He opened his eyes, but didn’t look at his reflection. Instead, he looked at her face. Her happy expression brightened the color of her skin and made her eyes an enchanting forest green that sparkled like gems.

Her gaze skimmed over his hair as a smile of satisfaction spread across her face. He moved his attention toward the mirror to assess the results. It only took him a moment to adjust to the shortness, but then he realized he looked good with short hair.

Nodding, he scratched his chin as a day’s growth of dark whiskers shadowed his skin. She’d wanted him to grow a beard, too. He could probably do that.

“I like it,” he told her as his focus jumped back to her eyes through the mirror. “Should we do you next?”

The look of satisfaction disappeared from her features as her body stiffened. “You want to cut my hair?”

“Of course not.” He pulled off the cape as he stood. “But I do plan on doing something with your hair.” He pointed to the stool. “Sit.”

Warily, she sat, watching him closely.

“The first thing we’re going to do,” he said walking behind her, “is to get rid of this ponytail.”

He gently tugged the band holding her hair together. Taking the squirt bottle, he used it to dampen her hair. Immediately, he could see there was a slight wave to the texture. He handed her the bottle before carefully threading his fingers through her hair, keeping close attention to her reaction.

Her breathing turned ragged, and he grinned. This had been his reaction when she’d threaded her fingers through his hair. And when her eye color softened, and her shoulders relaxed, he thought she looked beautiful.

“You, um...” He tried to force his mind to start working again as they looked at each other through the mirror. “It looks like your hair has a touch of natural curl to it.”

Her throat jumped as if she swallowed hard. “Yes. That’s why I keep my hair long. It’s curlier when it’s short.”

“Well, for your disguise, you’re going to keep your hair long and wavy.” He stepped around in front of her and squatted to her level. “And, I want you to wear a little more eyeliner.” He brushed the tip of his thumb over her eyebrow. “And maybe a light color of lipstick,” he added, dropping the tip of his thumb to below her bottom lip as he swept it underneath slowly.

“That’s... not me. I don’t wear makeup.”

“I know. We are supposed to be in disguise, right?”

She nodded.

“And I want you to look through my mother’s closet and see what clothes you can wear.”

She blinked, and her eyes widened. “Excuse me? You want me to wear an older woman’s clothes?”

He chuckled. “Sweetie, the clothes you’re wearing now are more old-fashioned than my mother’s. Besides, she always buys the latest styles from the top designers. I’m sure you’ll find something flattering.”

“Well, unfortunately, I won’t need the latest styles in Maine, and neither will you. We’ll need to wear jeans and tee-shirts where we’re going.”

“Why?” he asked skeptically as he stood. He leaned against the sink and folded his arms. “And where exactly are we going?”

“To a horse ranch.”

She rose off the stool and stood in front of him. “So, I’m not sure I’m going to need your mother’s fancy clothes, after all.”

As his mind created the picture of the horse ranch, he smiled wider. It’d been several years since he was on a ranch, but he was sure he could adjust. Unfortunately, he didn’t think Whitney could. He’d have to be her teacher.

Excitement shot through him just thinking about what he could do with Whitney. He could read her mind well enough to know that she expected him to be innocent around a horse ranch just because he had billions of dollars in the bank, but he’d show her how well he could fit in.

Perhaps going missing from the real world with this particular agent would be enjoyable after all.