Disclaimer: The characters and settings we all know and love belong to Janet Evanovich. The plot, such as it is, and anyone you don't recognize belongs to me. Written strictly for enjoyment – so enjoy!

Chapter 8

Lunch was surprisingly comfortable, and the food was excellent. Julia did a lot of the talking but Sasha was warm and friendly. It quickly became clear that she was nearly as curious about me as I was about her, and just as determined to be polite.

Julia, bless her, was less reserved.

"Officer Carl said he was sort of related to you," she said leadingly as soon as we'd ordered.

I obliged. "Yes, he's married to my cousin, Shirley."

"He says you're a bounty hunter, and that sometimes you work with my dad."

"Sometimes I help your dad. Mostly he helps me, because I'm not really a very good bounty hunter."

"Carl said you are. He says you're famous, and nearly every cop in Trenton knows you."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that. I couldn't say it wasn't true because I actually do have a degree of fame -- I've lost count of the number of times I've made the front page through some disaster or other, and cops I've never met place bets on when my next car will explode. Should I say it's because I seem to attract trouble? I'm accident-prone?

"I grew up here. I know lots of people from school and family and different jobs," I hedged. Then I changed the subject entirely, asking Julia about her school, what classes she liked, who her friends were.

She went to public school, which surprised me a little given her family's occupations. It must have shown on my face because Sasha gave me an explanation.

"Like it or not, Eric and I are in politics. How could we make creditable arguments about public education if we had Julia in a private school?"

"My school is really good," Julia added. "We have sports, of course, but we also have art and music classes. My art and music teachers are working together on a musical we're going to do on parents' night, with singing and stuff besides just acting so everyone can have a part in it. We are already working on painting the walls for the stage in art class. Do you know how hard it is to paint a door that really looks like a door?"

"No, I don't." I had to smile. Across the table Sasha was smiling but had tears glittering in her eyes as she watched Julia animatedly describing the process. I had an idea what she was feeling. Julia's kidnapping could have had a tragic ending, and this beautiful girl would have been lost. I shook it off determinedly. "So, is art your favorite subject?"

"Well, I don't know. I kinda like most of the stuff at school. Art and music, sure, but Mom is really good at math and she helps me sometimes. Eric likes history and he can make it sound really interesting. And Dad says school is kind of like a tool that teaches us how to learn, because we keep learning stuff for the rest of our lives. Of course, he doesn't get graded on what he learns!"

I laughed, as did Sasha, but I thought to myself that a lot of what Ranger did could be considered pass/fail – and failing meant someone could get killed. I'd rather get a grade.

Julia continued with little prompting, telling me about her friends at school. The other girl who'd been stunned during her abduction was her best friend, and she'd been very relieved to find out she was okay. She had piano lessons after school and was getting pretty good although she really wanted to learn guitar like her dad, and next year she was going to take dancing lessons so she wouldn't feel like a moron at high-school dances.

I hated to burst her bubble, but nearly everyone feels like a moron at high-school dances. And most kids didn't really dance anymore, they just sort of shuffle and sway. Ranger knew how to dance, though… Wait a minute – Ranger plays guitar?

Julia turned to ask her mom if they would be able to stay a few days before going home and back to school, and I lost my chance to backtrack to the subject of guitar-playing ex-special forces dads. Darn!

Sasha gently reminded Julia that there were only a few more weeks of school left, and she'd have the summer to plan for. As a consolation for having to return home soon, we ordered a couple of Rossini's famous desserts to share.

The plates were all empty, I was stuffed and smiling. My lunch with Ranger's daughter and ex hadn't turned out to be the inquisition I'd feared. I'd relaxed a bit too soon, however. Sasha was signing the charge slip for the check when Julia dropped the bomb I'd dreaded.

"Are you my dad's girlfriend?"

Shit! I froze, seized up, couldn't think of a single thing to say for several long panicked moments. Julia was waiting expectantly, and across the table Sasha was trying to hide a smile.

"I'm sorry, Stephanie," she said a moment later, when she got the grin under control. "Although Julia is quite close to her father, I'm afraid Carlos doesn't tell us much about his personal life. She got up talking about you this morning, about how you recognized her and called Carlos on his cell. He doesn't give that number out to very many people."

I wondered why it bugged me that Sasha called him Carlos. Maybe because he'd told me his family called him Rico? It made me wonder when he and Sasha had met. I'd thought maybe they'd been in high school together.

They were both waiting for my answer. And there was no way I was going to even try to explain our arrangement, and what the hell would we call it anyway?

What would Ranger say?

Inspiration struck and I saw a way out. I gave them both a small smile and shrugged.

"You'll have to ask him."