Danica, sprawled on Jon’s chest, lifted her head. His eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t sleeping. She’d never met anyone who needed as little sleep as he did. He reached over her head and snatched up the receiver, putting it to her ear, but in such a way that he could hear as well. Not sleeping and nosey as hell. Situation normal, she thought wryly. “Yes?” “Your uncle is on the line, Miss Cross,” the operator said in accented English. “He’s quite insistent that he speak with you immediately. May I put him through?” Danica frowned, still holding Jon’s gaze. “My uncle?” Unless her only uncle was calling from his grave, she had no idea who—Jon nodded. “Ah, sure. Put him through.” Danica frowned, still holding Jon’s gaze. “My uncle?” Unless her only uncle was calling from his grave, she had no idea who—Jon nodded. “Ah, sure. Put him through.” “Danica?”
