She shook her head, angry all over again.
“Lincoln never told me.”
“We tried very hard to keep it out of the press.” Her entire family had. For her. She wouldn’t have survived Trevor’s death otherwise. “We succeeded somewhat.”
“Private family matter?”
His meaning drove straight through her. She’d experienced what too much press could do to a person during a time of grief. Could she inflict that on Braden?
“I said we succeeded somewhat,” she said.
But could she go against his wishes? If his sister turned up dead like her fiancé, would she be able to do it?
She wouldn’t have to.
The news would leak out. One way or another. She’d been approached by reporters once Trevor’s kidnapping and murder had gotten out. The same would happen to Braden. Wouldn’t he rather it be her than a stranger?
She’d convince him he would. And not by giving in to her attraction. Getting mixed up with a man on the rebound was a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Like his ex, her parents were rich. Like his ex, Arizona didn’t have to work for a living. And if that wasn’t enough, Braden was an engineer with a six-year-old son. No way.
* * *
Braden went into the bar for a drink. It was off the only restaurant in their hotel, a historic fort remodeled in the early sixties. There was little they could do until morning when they planned to go to the police, and it was too early to go to sleep. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, wondering where Tatum was and whether she was all right. Was she frightened? Hurt?
Just the thought made him curl his fist. “I’m here, Tatum,” he murmured. “I’m coming to get you.” And whoever had taken her would pay.
He just hoped Arizona wouldn’t make that harder than it already would be. And not just while he was making bad people pay. More and more he thought he’d have to keep her out of his heart, too.
“You’re ruining my perception of you as an engineer.”
He twisted to see the object of his thoughts standing behind him, holding a bottle of beer. “Mine of you is still intact.”
She humphed at his witty response and sat on the barstool next to him, a grin tugging her kissable lips. “You drink?”
“Not every day. You?”
“Not every day.” Laughter lit her stunning blue eyes, clear and light. Mysterious. “Couldn’t sleep, huh?”
“It’s early.”
“You stay up late, too?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t engineers need their sleep?”
He leaned close. “Depends on what’s keeping them awake.”
She held her forefinger up. “Stop that.”
“Breaking your stereotype?”
“I’m afraid it’s already obliterated.” She didn’t seem happy about that. And then, she did.
If she was warming to him, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “How long has it been since your fiancé died?”
“Four years.”
Plenty of time for her heart to heal after someone she loved died. He surveyed her flawless skin, glowing a healthy tone, free of lines. Soft. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-one.”
Did anyone know what they wanted in a spouse at that age? He sure as hell hadn’t. “Young.”
“You say that as though it was too young.”
“I was twenty-one when I first got married. Divorced a year later.”
His divorce record left her silent for a while. “Does that make this your second divorce?”
“Marriage must not be for me.”
“I can see how two divorces would make you cynical.”
Bitter. Resentful. Giving up on love. Yeah. Her apparent understanding threw him off, though. “You’ve been divorced?”
“No. Everyone chooses the one they marry. And in some cases, we have to choose more than once.”
In other words, he chose badly. It wasn’t far off what he thought himself. “Thanks.”
“I don’t mean it as an insult. I don’t believe in mistakes, that’s all.”
Divorces weren’t the result of mistaken choices. Interesting take. Simple. And guilt free. He liked it.
“You married young and it didn’t work out. It wasn’t meant to. Your second marriage ended, but you have a son. Where’s the mistake in that?”
For someone who didn’t like kids, she sure had a soft spot for them. He fought the warmth swelling in him. “Is that how you feel about your fiancé’s death?”
She turned away, sipping her beer.
She didn’t believe in mistakes, yet she avoided men who reminded her of her fiancé as though she meant to prevent one.
“He never should have been killed,” she finally said.
Nobody should have to die like that. True. “But it must not have been meant to be.”
Her head whipped toward him.
“You marrying him, I mean.”
“I would have if he hadn’t been killed.”
He said nothing, just let her fill in her own blanks. It was her philosophy. There was no such thing as mistakes. Everything happened for a reason. Change happened for a reason.
Seeing how much she resisted what he’d forced her to think about, he decided he regretted making her feel that way.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He flagged over the bartender and ordered two waters and charged their drinks to his room.
He needed a distraction. Anything to stop imagining Tatum being held against her will. If she were still alive. He couldn’t even bring himself to go there. She had to be alive. She just had to be.
All he had to do was get by until morning. What better way to do that than get a taste of the adventurer in Arizona?
* * *
Braden wouldn’t tell her where he was taking her, but Arizona suspected he was only doing this to pass time. They couldn’t talk to the police until morning. She needed this, too. Searching for Tatum brought back a lot
