not going to do it now.’’
Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in a frown. She had the most perfect skin he’d ever seen. Except maybe on a baby’s butt. Faint color stained her cheeks, but he would have bet a prime steer or two that it was natural, not out of a compact. Her eyes were large, her lashes dark. High cheekbones and a pointed chin focused attention on her full mouth. Dress her up in some leather and lace and she would look like the poster girl for sin.
‘‘Buckle bunny?’’ His guest shook her head. ‘‘Are you talking about a rabbit? Don’t you have cattle on this ranch? I didn’t know anyone bred rabbits out West. Is there a market for them?’’
‘‘What are you talking about?’’ he asked. Rabbits? Was she crazy?
‘‘Rabbits. You mentioned them. Well, you actually said bunnies, but aren’t they the same thing? Are we having trouble communicating?’’
‘‘One of us is.’’ He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her. Was she being dumb on purpose? ‘‘Why don’t you tell me why you’re here, lady.’’
She flashed him another smile. ‘‘Actually, I’m looking for your brother. John Colton. Could you tell me where he is?’’
While her conversation about rabbits had done a whole bunch to dilute his desire, her question squashed the last, lingering flicker of interest. Over the years he’d come to terms with his relationship with his brother, but he refused to be attracted to one of John’s old lovers.
He raked his gaze over her, starting at her expensive boots and ending at the riot of curls on the top of her head. ‘‘First of all, I don’t give out personal information to strangers. Second, you don’t look like his type.’’
‘‘Type?’’
The woman stared at him blankly. She repeated the word again, silently, as if trying to figure out what he meant. Her surprise was so genuine, he had to reassess his opinion of her.
‘‘You think we were involved?’’ she asked, faintly bewildered. ‘‘Oh, my. No, it’s not that at all.’’
But before she could explain exactly what their relationship was, or he could ask, a black sedan pulled into his yard and parked behind the Jag. Must be his day for company, he thought as two men in dark suits stepped out of the car.
Mitch might have spent most of his life either on the ranch or the rodeo circuit, but he knew security people when he saw them. The not-so-subtle bulges under their left arms came from handguns, not muscles.
‘‘You’ve got my attention now, lady,’’ he said.
‘‘Alex,’’ she murmured as she turned to look at the two strangers. ‘‘Just plain Alex.’’
He ignored her statement, mostly because it didn’t make sense. Interestingly enough, the two thugs were ignoring him, too. What was going on?
‘‘Why don’t you tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here?’’ Mitch asked.
One of the security men looked up and nodded politely, then spoke to the woman. ‘‘Princess Alexandra, you know you’re not allowed to go off unescorted. You’ve only been in this country a short time and you’re not familiar with the driving laws, nor will you know how to communicate with the local citizens.’’
‘‘They’re just people, Rowan. I’ve been communicating just fine.’’ The woman laughed.
How nice that she was amused, Mitch thought. Then he replayed the man’s statement a couple of dozen times in his brain. Princess Alexandra? Had he really said Princess?
‘‘No way,’’ he muttered, mostly to himself. ‘‘Not a real princess.’’
Alex, or Princess Alexandra or whomever she was, turned to face him and shrugged. ‘‘Sorry, yes. I’m a real princess. I have a king and queen for parents, three princesses for sisters. There’s even a palace.’’
His mind went blank. All he could do was stand there and repeat the same thing over and over again. ‘‘A princess? A real princess?’’ She didn’t look like a princess, he thought, staring at her dress and then her face. There wasn’t any crown or whatever it was princesses wore. ‘‘This is a joke, right?’’
‘‘I’m afraid not.’’ Her gaze moved to the two security men standing next to her. ‘‘He doesn’t seem to be understanding me. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I will have some trouble communicating.’’
That comment got through to Mitch. It also annoyed him. ‘‘I’m not stupid,’’ he said. ‘‘I heard what you said, I just don’t believe it.’’
The woman nodded slightly. ‘‘I suppose in your position I would feel the same way.’’ She motioned to the house. ‘‘Would it be possible to go inside and talk about this?’’
He looked at the two armed men. To think the most excitement he’d been expecting in his quiet Sunday afternoon had been to catch a couple of football games on television. ‘‘Sure. Will the rent-a-cops let you do that?’’
Neither security person responded to his mild insult. The taller of the two turned to the woman. ‘‘We’re going to have to search the house.’’
‘‘Do you mind?’’ Alex asked Mitch. ‘‘It’s really a formality. I’m sure you’re very safe.’’
‘‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’’ He had the strangest feeling that he’d been dropped into a movie somewhere in the middle. He had no clue what was going on and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
‘‘If you’ll give me a minute,’’ the taller man said, then walked up the three stairs and across the porch. He paused at the front door.
‘‘You’re kidding, right?’’ Mitch asked.
‘‘Not really.’’
The bodyguard slipped a thin wallet out of his jacket pocket…the one on the opposite side from the gun. He opened it and handed it to Mitch.
Mitch studied the official badges. The top one showed a royal coat of arms, while the bottom came from the U.S. State Department.
‘‘There’s a photo ID as well,’’ the man offered helpfully.
Mitch flipped to the picture and noted the card below, then handed the wallet back to Reginald Rowan, security expert and a man licensed to carry a handgun in at least two countries.
‘‘Door’s open,’’ Mitch said. ‘‘I don’t bother much with locks. There aren’t many strangers out here. At least not until today.’’
‘‘How nice,’’ Alex said as she glanced around. ‘‘It’s very private. You must like that.’’
‘‘I guess.’’
His gaze moved from her back to the remaining security agent, to the bulge of the man’s gun, to the sleek Jag parked in front of the house. If it was a joke, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make it look
