He’d have been even happier if the memory of Kansas coming apart in his arms would disappear, splat, from his mind. And yeah, he was guilty of initiating that kiss. But he’d only intended a kiss, not a pass. He’d only intended to test her a little, see how she responded to a little surprise, a little stress. God knew how it had gotten out of hand so fast.
It was her fault. Completely. Only blaming her somehow didn’t make him feel better. Pax did not open up to strangers. Ever. He positively did not come onto women like a rabid bull. Ever. He was a grown man, a hundred years too old to let hormones rule his life or his behavior, and he had never touched a woman where he wasn’t in full control. It was unconscionable. It couldn’t have happened.
The front door hurled open...and Pax mentally braced. Trouble bounced outside, in a flurry of ditsy chitchat and a wincing bright orange streak of color.
“Hi there, Pax! You’re right on time. Wait, wait, wait—I forgot my purse...and I’d better lock the door. I just have to remember where I put the key to the house....”
Pax wiped a hand over his face as he waited for her to shoot back inside and come up with the key and purse and heaven knew what else. Last night must have been some kind of surreal fantasy, something he’d half imagined or blown out of proportion in his mind. This was the Kansas he’d first met. One of those alien species known as a Pure Female. In her case, a pure ditsy female, a chatterer with just an eensy tendency to be an airhead.
She chased back outside with a grin bigger than the sky, a floppy crocheted bag dangling from her arm. Her fingers were covered—plastered—in rings; bracelets clattered around her wrists; and he hadn’t a clue how to classify what she was wearing. Technically it seemed to be some kind of dress, but it buttoned from a loose neck and ended midthigh. A short midthigh. The fabric was a light cotton knit, and snuggled up to every skinny bone. Hell, a gusty sigh would probably knock her down.
Her fragility hit him every time he saw her. Never mind all the flash and sparkle—he’d felt her body last night. She didn’t own a sturdy bone and her skin was softer than a baby’s behind. He guessed she’d bruise if a man even looked at her roughly, and that thought was disturbing. Pax couldn’t imagine her surviving in any physically demanding situation—past five minutes—and there was just no way this side of the moon that he could stop himself from feeling protective of her.
“Ready,” she announced, and gave him another winsome, wicked grin. “At least I think I’m ready. We didn’t exactly pin down an agenda for the afternoon. Do we have a game plan on the table about where we’re going?”
“I have a place in mind, where your brother used to spend some time. But first—I should have asked you yesterday if you’d talked to the sheriff.”
“Why, sure. When I couldn’t get ahold of Case and started worrying he was missing, the first places I called were the hospitals—and then the law. Sheriff Simons and I are old phone pals. I called him at least a half dozen times from Minnesota.”
“And?”
“And...he was real sweet and real kind, but all those long-distance calls got me nowhere.” Kansas climbed into the passenger side of the Explorer and strapped herself in.
His Explorer was used to smelling like hay and vet medicines and a whole host of other natural, earthy smells. But his truck, for sure, had never been exposed to a blast of exuberantly sexy French perfume. Something about that audacious scent—or her—was developing a dangerous habit of arousing his hormones. But Pax consoled himself that at least she’d made no reference to the kiss the night before. Apparently they were both going to play this nice and comfortable and pretend it never happened—which was totally okay by him.
“The sheriff went so far as to drive out to Case’s place,” Kansas continued. “But when he didn’t find any sign of breaking in or a problem, he said that was the best he could do. There was no reason to think my brother was really missing. Case had a habit of taking off on any whim, and apparently everyone around here knew it. Unless I come up with some reason or proof that Case is in trouble, the sheriff just said he had no legal basis to do anything.”
“I told you the same thing yesterday,” Pax reminded her.
“Yeah, I know you did.” Blue eyes skimmed his face, then zipped away. “That’s exactly why I’m grateful that you believed me.”
“I don’t necessarily believe that your brother is in trouble,” he said, correcting her.
“He is.” Her voice had turned quiet. “And you must believe me to some extent, or you wouldn’t be here.”
That wasn’t precisely true. Pax checked the rearview mirror and backed out of the driveway. “Al loco y al aire, darles calle,” he murmured under his breath.
“Pardon?”
“It’s a common Spanish saying around here. Clear the way for madmen and the wind.” Pax didn’t mention that men usually pounced on that Southwestern proverb in reference to the insanity of arguing with a stubborn woman. If he hadn’t been afraid Kansas would take off on her own—and potentially risk running into trouble—he wouldn’t be here.
“Madmen...?” she repeated curiously.
“It’s nothing. Just a thought that crossed my mind.” He switched subjects quickly. “There’s a place at the far end of Sierra Vista. Just a bookstore, with a kind of deli and coffee shop attached. Doesn’t sound like anything, but somehow the kids have made it into a hangout spot. I know Case used to spend a lot of time there.”
“Great.”
Pax couldn’t swear that it would be “great”—or that Kansas would gain any helpful leads there about her brother. But it seemed a relatively safe place to start. His mind zipped back to the image of the datura plants at her place. It wasn’t a good omen, those plants. “Tell me about your brother,” Pax suggested.
“Tell you about Case? What do you want to know?” Adobe buildings with red-tiled roofs flashed by. The landscape was dominated by signs in Spanish and native cactus lying dusty in the sun. She kept looking out the window as if the view were as alien as a visit to the moon.
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