Zane shook his head. “I was afraid of that. Well, look on the bright side. Maybe I’m rich.”
“My car problems are not your fault,” she said, and took a bite. Dave’s flapjacks were pretty darn tasty.
“If it was an attempt to kill me, I think that’s my fault,” he said.
“I don’t. Let’s not talk about it, okay?”
“Sure.”
Back in the car, Kinsey drove while Zane dozed fitfully beside her. Her goal was to clear her mind and just go with the flow. She was no stranger to road trips—that’s how she and her mother had moved around for years. But then she’d been a child, relying on an adult’s decisions, and now she was an adult and Zane was depending on her to keep all the balls in the air.
Ever mindful that someone could be trailing them or driving ahead, her gaze darted between the rearview mirror and the road. She made her hands remain steady on the wheel as she drove under bridges. The saving grace was that it was light outside.
Worries about killers and having no car began to creep in as mile after mile of desert passed outside the windows. She wished Zane would wake up and talk to her, but he looked reasonably comfortable huddled down in his seat.
Her mother was right—he did look like a cowboy.
As the afternoon wore on, Zane’s peaceful slumber seemed to be waning. She saw his hands twitch on his thighs, his lashes flutter against his cheeks. She became truly alarmed when he clutched his throat and cried out. A moment later, his eyes flew open and he looked around as though trying to figure out what was going on. His expression was wild.
“You were having a bad dream,” she told him. “Do you remember what it was about?”
He blinked several times. “It’s kind of vague,” he said, his fingers still at his throat as though the choking had just happened. “There was a giant black tree. That’s all I can remember.”
“Sounds like something out of a kid’s nightmare,” she said.
By the time they rolled down Las Vegas’s brilliantly lit main street, Kinsey’s muscles were knotted from all the sitting. For once, she wasn’t hungry—all she wanted to do was move.
They checked into a small motel off the beaten track. The room held a single bed that they both stared at. Kinsey was thinking it was going to be hard to curl up in a bed with Zane mere inches away and get any kind of sleep at all. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but by the smoldering look he cast her way, she figured it was along similar lines.
“Maybe we should get out of here for a while,” he said.
“Good idea.”
The evening was very warm without any of the river breezes that sometimes helped cool things down in New Orleans. They found a casino with a cheap buffet, then followed their ears to a band playing old rock songs from the sixties.
“I need to move around,” Kinsey said, looking at the small wooden dance floor.
“I’ll give it a try,” Zane said.
“Is your left leg up to it?”
“I’ll just pretend I’m moving,” he said and did just that as Kinsey flexed tight muscles. She loved the familiar beats, singing along with the band when she knew the lyrics and earning a round of applause from a couple of older guys taking a break from keno.
“How do you know the words to these songs?” Zane asked as they came together for a slow dance.
“It’s my mom’s favorite music,” she said close to his ear. It was heaven to be held against his firm chest, to have his warm breath on her neck and cheek, his hand planted on her lower back. She closed her eyes and let the rhythm soothe away the long hours in the car.
“You’re very close to her, aren’t you?”
Kinsey thought about that for a minute. “Yes and no,” she said. “She was the center of my universe because there were so few other constants.”
“How about grandparents?”
“My dad was an orphan and Mom’s parents died before I was born. I was all she had.”
“Well, at least she had you.”
“Yeah. But that’s a big load for a kid to carry, you know, to be everything. It’s harder than it sounds.”
“I bet it is,” he said, looking down into her eyes, and they both smiled. “I wonder what my childhood was like,” he added.
“You’ll reclaim your memories,” she said softly, her gaze on his mouth and the perfect shape of his lips. She’d tasted them several times now, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to sample them again.
“And if I don’t, I’ll have you,” he said, and she wasn’t sure if he meant in the figurative sense of memories of her or actually having her—at his side, in his bed, sharing his life.
Once again she cautioned herself to slow down. Zane was an enigma and would be until he found his place in the world and remembered why he was in New Orleans, why he’d asked about her mother, what he knew about Ryan.
Soon enough, it was time to return to the motel. They took a cab in the hopes that if they had a tail, it might throw them off. Once back in the room with the dead bolt in place and curtains drawn, they took turns using the shower. Zane had some of Bill Dodge’s garments to change into and Kinsey had grabbed a long beach cover-up off a sale rack in the casino basement. It was a weird shade of orange, which probably explained its cheap price tag, but at least it was clean. By the time she was ready for bed, Zane had already chosen a side. She took the other. She was nervous and excited and full of cautionary tales that ran through her head like the ticker tape she’d once seen in an old movie.
“It feels great to lie down,” Zane said as his hand found hers and clasped it.
“I wish I knew if you were married,” Kinsey said and then wished she hadn’t. Why couldn’t she just shut up and scoot over to her side of the bed and go to sleep?
“I do, too.” He turned on his side, facing her. Their faces were close, their hands joined. Every inch of Kinsey’s body ached with awareness and desire, and by the tone of Zane’s breathing, she knew he was in similar distress.
“I can’t believe I’ve ever felt this way about anyone else,” he said, his fingers caressing her arms.
“I know I haven’t,” she said. “You’re making me want things I never wanted before.”
“Like what?”
“A future with one person.”
“And children?”
“I don’t know.”
“I like kids,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“The usual things. Their innocence, their trust. What they represent when it comes to playing life forward. On a gut level I guess I feel they’re what matters, they’re the point of it all.” He paused. “Why are you uncertain?”
Kinsey’s mother’s comment about sacrificing everything rang once again in her mind. Now she wondered why it came as such a surprise. Was it because Kinsey had always felt as if she was the one called upon to make concessions, helpless to lead a normal life because of her mother’s idiosyncrasies? “I guess in a way I feel like I’ve already raised a child,” she murmured. “My mother.”
“Nurturing a brand-new baby would be way different than dealing with a grown-up,” he said.
“I would hope so,” she responded with a chuckle, but it died in her throat as his lips touched her cheek.
“I want to kiss you,” he murmured against her skin.
“You just did,” she answered softly.
“Not like that,” he said, moving closer still, his arm sliding under her shoulders, pulling her against him. He licked her earlobe, nuzzled her throat, showered a dozen moist kisses on her neck, on her shoulder, across her clavicle. Her breasts throbbed with a wanton pulse that drummed inside her body like a jungle beat. By the time his lips touched hers, she was half gone, and she returned his kiss with the pent-up longing of every moment she’d been aware of his existence.
She wanted his gentle, warm hands to touch every inch of her and she could tell by the erection pressing against her thigh that his longings equaled her own. It felt like destiny
. The ticker-tape machine fell silent, warnings ceased; she was his for the taking. Even the fact that this zero-to-ninety reaction had happened in mere moments and with a man who remained a virtual stranger failed to rouse her consciousness.
And then he paused as though similar thoughts had detonated in his brain. The slight hesitation was enough to reawaken Kinsey’s common sense.
If they kept racing down this particular mountain, they would end up having sex, right here, tonight. And tomorrow when he rediscovered a wife? They would have to live with this act, with this decision.
The sex-hungry part of her brain whispered: you would have this night to remember. Isn’t that enough?
He rolled over on his back and swore. A sigh passed his lips next, and then his cheek grazed her shoulder.
She sat up abruptly, unable to bear his touch, though she hungered for it with every ounce of her being. His hand landed on her back and she flinched. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The bed creaked as he sat up behind her. His arms circled her and he spoke against her hair. “This is my fault.”
She didn’t even try to respond.
“You’re right about me,” he continued, “about not knowing what obligations and responsibilities I already have in my life. I shouldn’t have started this, it was weak to give in to the lust I feel for you when I have absolutely nothing to offer, not even tomorrow.”
“I didn’t exactly try to stop you,” Kinsey said softly.
His lips touched her shoulder. “Stick with me for another day, Kinsey, and forgive me for putting you in this position.”
She turned her head a little and closed her eyes. She was as much at fault as he. She nodded and he hugged her. When he lay back down, he pulled her with him and she tried to relax by his side.
She’d known better than to let herself get mixed up with him at this stage of his quest. She’d ignored her common sense. She wouldn’t do that again.
Chapter Seven
They set out early, but the night before had been restless and uneasy. It took two hours to drive to St. George. Nestled in a valley and surrounded by red cliffs, it was larger than Zane had expected and very pretty with its green trees and steepled white buildings.
“Getting nervous?” she asked. She’d been polite but reserved during the whole drive, a parody of her former warmth. Last night had been hard on both of them.
“A little,” he said. “I could walk into a tractor dealership in a few moments and someone could call me by name.”
Kinsey nodded toward her small handbag on the console between them. “Dig out my phone and look up Travers’s Tractors so we don’t get lost.”
“Sure.” He opened the clasp, but there was a book stuffed inside the bag, making a search tricky.
“I’m sorry,” she said after glancing at him. “It’s not in there. It should be in one of the pockets on the outside.”
“What book is this?” he asked.
She glanced at him. “It’s an art book Bill Dodge gave me because it concerns women artists. I think he must have rebound it himself. I wanted to ask him, but things got out of hand and I didn’t get a chance.”
“What I can see of it is very pretty.” He closed the main bag and discovered the phone where she’d said he would. He found it oddly comforting that he knew how to use the device. So why didn’t he know anything about himself and the people he loved?
He glanced at Kinsey. Please, let there be no one else, he said inside his head. His biggest fear was that he’d find a wife and children waiting for him and he would not remember them. He’d have to stay with them, but his heart would beat for Kinsey. She would go back to her life, and he would have to find a way to come to grips with his.
He directed Kinsey through the quiet streets to the other side of town. For some reason Zane couldn’t explain, neither one of them seemed worried today about an assailant. He noticed Kinsey rarely checked her mirrors and his heart hadn’t skipped a beat every time they drove beneath an overpass.
“There it is,” he said, looking ahead at the green sign with the words Travers’s Tractors and Farm Equipment written in white. His throat felt dry and he turned up his collar although the bruises had grown dark now and hiding them was nearly impossible.
Kinsey pulled into a large parking lot that held a few trucks.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said, opening his door.
The store consisted of a big showroom filled with tractors and attachments. The only other people were a salesman showing an elderly couple a mower, and another salesman who approached them with a huge smile. “Howdy, folks,” he said, putting out a hand. “My name is Ted Baxter. You looking for a tractor?” As they shook hands, Ted frowned and then nodded. “I’ve seen you before,” he said.
Zane’s pulse quickened and he felt Kinsey’s body tense. “You have?”
“Sure. I remember now. The police faxed us your photo. Am I right? That’s you, isn’t it?”
Hope that he’d be recognized by the first person he met flared and died within a few short sentences. “That’s me,” he said. “I hoped that walking in here might trigger someone’s memory.”
“I’m real sorry for your predicament.”
The elderly couple walked past them toward the door, deep in conversation. Their salesman drifted over to Ted’s side and stared at Zane in a way that suggested he, too, recognized him from a photo.
“Can you tell us where your other franchises are located?” Kinsey asked.
“Sure. Heck, I’ve got a brochure in my office.”
Zane had taken the key fob out of his pocket and showed it now to the two men. “Before you get that brochure, do either of you recognize this?”
“Red Hot,” Ted said as he turned it over in his hand. “That’s a small tractor made by Bolo, kind of the sporty model. There, in the corner, that’s what they look like. But I’ve never seen a key ring—”
“I have,” the other salesman said. “About four or five years ago. They ran a promotion when the model first came out. We had these little disks printed for all the stores. Someone made a mistake and this branch’s address ended up on every one of them. Manufacturer cut us a deal, so we used them anyway.”
“All the stores?”
“Yeah. Most of them just made up little fake keys with their own branch’s location. Those never lasted long.”
“So you don’t know which store this came from?” Kinsey persisted.
“No. Sorry.”
Ted ran off to get the brochure. Back in seconds, he turned the pamphlet over where five franchises were listed. “It had to come from one of these,” Ted said.
The other salesman looked at the list. “Wait a second. How about the Falls Bluff branch?”
“What Falls Bluff branch?” Ted asked.
“Falls Bluff, Idaho. Wait. I forgot—you weren’t here four years ago. Right after the Red Hot promotion began, the branch in Falls Bluff closed its doors. I heard that someone bought the property and opened their own farm equipment business. Some of the same people might still work there, though.”
“Do you know the name of the new place?” Zane asked.
“No, sorry, I don’t. It was on Festival Street, though. I doubt you’ll miss it.”
Five minutes later, they were headed north on their way to Bryce Canyon where they would find the next Travers’s Tractors, and from there to Salt Lake City, then into Idaho—Twin Falls first, then Falls Bluff, final destination Coeur d’Alene.
*
BY THAT NIGHT, they were both travel weary. Utah had been a bust and they’d forced themselves to keep going until they got to the Idaho border. Since it was way too late to worry about things like debt, Kinsey bought them both clean clothes at a department store just minutes after hearing her car had been totaled. She would receive well under a thousand dollars for the little lime bug and it rankled.
Tomorrow they would go to three more stores, but Kinsey had kind of given up hope and she could tell that Zane had, too. They were
weary of sitting, asking the same questions in almost identical venues, looking over their shoulders and eating fast food.
There’d been no sign that day that anyone was interested in them, and Kinsey began to think that maybe Sheriff Crown had been right about the bored kids.
She asked for and received a room with two double beds and locked the dead bolt. She sat cross-legged on her bed for an hour and sketched from memory the woman who had waited on them, an angelic-looking teenager with the unexpected tattoo of barbed wire and tiny red hearts encircling her neck. Even conquering that didn’t lighten her mood and she finally lay back on the pillow.
All the while she’d been drawing, she’d been glancing over at Zane lounging atop the other bed clad only in boxers and a T-shirt. He’d borrowed a newspaper from the office, stretched out on his stomach and started the crossword puzzle. Memories of his strength and gentleness tugged at every part of her body.
He seemed to sense her attention and looked up at her. All the protective layers she’d erected that day teetered under the blue intensity of his gaze. After a second, he crossed the short distance to her side in one step. He had long, straight legs, not quite as tan as his muscular arms and commanding face. He sat on the edge of her mattress.
For several seconds they stared at each other. Kinsey felt as if she was going to explode.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said as he ran a lock of her hair through his fingers. “Of course, you always look beautiful.”
“For all the good it does us,” she whispered. When he leaned over her and kissed her cheek, she turned her face. “Don’t,” she whispered.
“Sorry,” he said, and slowly sat up. He didn’t leave, however, just sat there, still and silent, one hand on her shoulder as he stared around the room. Finally he looked down at her again. “Last night I asked you to give me one more day. That day is now over. I think you should drive away tomorrow and let me finish this.”
“You keep forgetting about my mother,” she said. “You were asking questions about her. I need to know why so I can protect her.”
Alice Sharpe Page 9
