"I'll...I'll use that one, of course." She looked totally flustered, Elissa noted sympathetically. "Excuse me," she whispered, her voice almost breaking. She turned and nearly ran down the hall.
King closed the door and leaned back against it, his face without expression, his dark eyes looking at Elissa without really seeming to see her. He never gave away much, but that hard face was faintly pale under its rugged tan.
Elissa climbed out of bed, oblivious to her state of undress. He wasn't looking, anyway. He paid very little attention to her as a rule, and if she'd wondered why in the past, she now had a suspicion. She went to stand in front of him, her head back, her eyes curious.
"Okay," she said. "Why don't you tell me all about it? I'm a clam when I need to be, and you look as if you need a friend pretty badly."
His jaw tightened. He looked down into her blue eyes, and she could see his control waver, just for an instant, before he got it back. "That's Bess," he said finally. "My brother's wife," he added significantly. After a pause, he continued tonelessly, "He'll be along in an hour or so; he's still in a business meeting."
She remembered his mentioning Bobby and Bess, and she also remembered that he never talked much about them. Now she had a sneaking hunch she knew why. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his look of utter dejection.
"Is one of you in hot pursuit of the other?" she conjectured, smiling gently at his faint surprise. "Since I'm guessing, she's after you, I imagine, and that's why I was shanghaied into decorating your bed."
"It isn't quite that simple," he murmured, searching her wide eyes.
"Why don't you try telling me about it?" she suggested softly.
Still gazing intently at her, he seemed to consider that possibility, took a deep breath and then began. "They came down month before last while Bobby was working to get a hotel complex started. He's been deeply involved in negotiations, and now he's finalizing the subcontracting bids," he explained. He paused.
"Go on," Elissa prompted gently.
"Bess has been lonely, so instead of going back to Oklahoma, she's been depending on me for amusement." He stopped, then continued haltingly, "But a couple of nights ago, the amusement did a disappearing act, and things started to get serious." Again he stopped, then rushed on. "So I started grasping at straws and told her I was involved with you. If you hadn't sent me that letter asking me to get the utilities on, I might still be in hot water. But I knew you'd be in tonight, so I made sure Bess would come over. To catch you in a compromising situation, that is."
"Too bad I wasn't stark naked instead, then," she said lightly, trying to cheer him up. She gave him a wicked smile. "Just picture it: gorgeous me in my birthday suit sprawled out on your satin sheets. That would have really caught her eye."
Oddly enough, that picture made King go hot all over. He suddenly realized he'd never really thought of Elissa as a woman before. She was so young, so naive, so trusting. She was like a little sister to him. But now, as his dark eyes wandered over her, he realized with a start that she was pretty sexy in that gown, and he wasn't thinking brotherly thoughts at all. He blinked. Maybe he was getting old and his glands were going crazy. Either that or his confusion over Bess was getting to him. In an effort to ground himself in reality once more, he reached out and clasped her shoulders. It was a mistake-they were bare.
Elissa started. It was a rare thing for King to touch her, and she was amazed at the pleasure the feel of his hands on her bare skin gave her.
"I think this will do it," he mused, even more confused yet relieved he could still find voice to respond to her joking remark. "Temporarily, at least. How about joining us for drinks, just for an hour or so? Just until Bobby gets here?"
He sounded almost desperate, and Elissa grinned. "Sure. What are friends for?" she said easily. She wondered how much he really cared for Bess and if his only motive in the charade was to ward off his sister-in-law. Perhaps he needed a barrier against his own impulses, too, to keep himself honest? Hard to tell; he could be such a poker face. At times she wondered if she really knew him at all. She searched his dark eyes, frowning slightly. "King, is she in love with you?"
"I don't think she knows, Elissa," he said, his voice quiet and tense. "She's lonely and bored- maybe a bit afraid, as well. Bobby leaves her alone too much. I'm not sure if she's really interested in me or just using me as a ploy to get Bobby's attention."
In fact, he was afraid to take a chance on Bess's developing any real feeling for him, since he was having a hard enough time resisting her now. But he wasn't admitting any of that to Elissa.
He'd always had a soft spot for his sister-in-law, he acknowledged. Few people in her current social circle knew how rough she'd had it, what with a father who drank and kept her mother pregnant all the time. Bess hadn't even owned a decent dress when Bobby brought her home and announced that they were getting married. King had formed an immediate affection for the shy little blonde, and that tenderness had held on for the past ten years. Now it was hard to decide whether it was still brotherly affection or something more. Bess had never actively encouraged him before now.
Elissa caught the wistful look in King's eyes. Her lips pursed. "Did you ever have something going with her, maybe before Bobby did?" she probed gently.
He shook his head. "She was just eighteen when they married. They were the same age, in fact." He shrugged. "I was already eleven years her senior. Besides, Bobby saw her first." He laughed, then instantly sobered. "They were close in those early days, when Bobby was working his way up in the business world. But now, with their years of living high on the hog and with the oil industry depressed, money's gotten a little tight." He frowned, studying her. "You know, I think maybe Bobby's working himself like crazy because he's afraid Bess won't want him if he can't support her in the style she's gotten accustomed to. And because he's ignoring her in his pursuit of new building contracts, she thinks he doesn't care."
"What a mess," she sighed.
"You aren't kidding. And guess who's smack-dab in the middle of it?" he asked ruefully. "They've gotten along pretty well the past ten years, but then, there was always lots of money. Bess used to joke about leaving him if he ever lost his shirt; she said she never wanted to be poor again. I don't think she really meant it about leaving him, but Bobby tends to take things literally, and they don't seem to talk much anymore. Anyway, I helped Bobby make some real-estate contacts here in Jamaica, and two months ago they came down to get things started. Bobby's been hellishly busy, so for the past few weeks Bess has turned to me-out of boredom, I'm sure. At first I suspected she wanted to use me to get Bobby to notice her again-you know, make him a little jealous. But it's getting complicated now." He shrugged, smiling faintly. "She's always been special to me, and I'm only human, if you get my meaning. But I don't want anyone to get hurt. That's where you come in."
"I'm going to run interference, I gather?" she murmured.
"That's it," he agreed pleasantly. "By the way, you've been in the States for the past few months because we had a quarrel. But now we've patched it up, and we're quite serious about each other."
"I'm beginning to see the light," she mused, grinning. "So we're lovers, is that it?"
He chuckled. "Can't keep our hands off each other," he agreed. "Mad to be together."
"What fun." She smiled. "Now explain my missionary parents to her and how you so easily led me into a life of sin."
He groaned. "Don't, for heaven's sake, even mention your parents to her. Well, not what they do for a living, at least."
She sighed. "I hope she doesn't pin me down and start asking embarrassing questions."
"I'll try not to leave you alone with her. You've got to save me," he murmured dryly, although there seemed to be something serious behind the gibe.
"Bobby and I are getting along better than we ever have. I can't come between him and the one thing in life he really values."
She sighed. "Okay. I'll play along. But I have to go back to the States in ab
out three weeks, so you'd better get her convinced fast."
"They'll be going back any day now, I hope," he said. "Otherwise I don't know if I can stand it much longer. It's a good thing I saw your lights on before Bobby got me to pick up Bess at their villa. I barely had time to pressure you into cooperating before I had to leave,"
"Lucky you," she agreed with a grin. "I hadn't planned to come back for two more weeks."
He groaned. "I'd have been in over my head by then, for sure."
She glanced up at him. "Well, don't you worry. I'll save you." She frowned, moving away from the disturbing touch of his hands. "Let's see now, what did I do with that red cape-you know, the one with the big S on it?"
"Never mind the Superwoman cape," he said. "Just hold my hand."
"The one with the Rolex and the diamond ring?" She pursed her lips. "Careful I don't steal them. I'm not rich yet, you know."
He laughed. "You will be," he said. Then he glanced toward the door. "Get dressed, will you? I'll wait for you."
Heavens, he had it bad, Elissa thought, if he was afraid to face the other woman without reinforcements.
"Chin up," she said lightly. "I know karate. If she makes one move-just one move-to undress you, I'll defend your honor with my very life."
He chuckled. Once, he'd thought his new neighbor was a complete eccentric. He still did, actually, but she could be quite a gem at times, too. And right now she was saving his neck. "You're a nice girl," he said playfully.
She winced. "A nice girl? Thanks awfully. I like you, too."
She turned, picked up her clothes from the chair and headed toward the bathroom.
"You can't dress in front of me?" he asked unexpectedly, watching her from his relaxed position against the door.
She glanced up at him. "No," she confessed with a somewhat wobbly laugh. "I'm not quite as liberated as I might seem. I-I've never undressed in front of a man in my life, except for my family physician."
The confession seemed to shock him. "Never?" he asked.
"Never," she emphasized, knowing exactly what she was revealing to him.
He scowled. Because of her physical aloofness, he'd somehow taken it for granted that she'd been hurt in love somehow. To think of her as a virgin was vaguely disturbing.
"Why?" he asked with charasteristic bluntness. "Did something happen to you?"
"My father's a minister, remember? And he and my mother were missionaries to Brazil when I was growing up. Try being Ms. Liberation in that kind of atmosphere. I dare you."
He was learning more about her in minutes than he'd learned in two years. He studied her intently, his gaze taking in what he could see of her body in that very revealing gown. Her breasts were full and firm looking, her minuscule waist flared into nicely rounded hips, and she had long, nicely shaped legs. Her face was lovely. And that teasing, provocative air of hers, he realized, was pretty false at times. Remembering that he'd seen her actually back away when men came too close physically, he regarded her thoughtfully.
"No wonder," he mumbled.
"No wonder what?" she echoed.
"Well, I'd always thought of you as sophisticated," he mused, thinking of her occasional flirta-tiousness. "You certainly don't act like a virgin. And yet-"
"How does a virgin act, for heaven's sake?" she broke in. "Stand on the edge of a volcano and jump in?"
Despite the seriousness of his current predicament, King found himself laughing, and it dawned on him that he laughed more with Elissa than he ever had in his life. But then, his path hadn't been an easy one. Part Indian, he'd grown up fighting two worlds. Most people didn't even know that he and Bobby had different fathers. Bobby's was a Texas oilman who'd left his business equally to both boys. King's father was a full-blooded Apache whose ill-fated attempt to fit into his wife's social set had been a disaster. A marriage of rich and poor might make good novels, but it was hard work in real life. Eventually, King's father had walked out the door in the middle of one too many cocktail parties and vanished. King had never seen him again. His mother had remarried, and when Bobby came along, there seemed to be little affection left for the elder son. He learned to fight his own battles, because he got no coddling. He'd spent his whole life fighting. He guessed that in many ways he was still fighting.
"You almost never laugh," Elissa pointed out, holding her jump suit against her breasts.
"Oh, now and again I do. With you." He smiled. "Go get dressed, walking sacrifice. I'll wait out here."
She studied him quietly, curious about the worn expression on his face. More than Bess was troubling him, she sensed. She wondered briefly if being the product of two worlds ever bothered him. She knew about his Indian ancestry; in her typical outspoken
fashion she'd once asked him why he was so dark. He'd given her the answer abruptly and changed the subject, clearly unwilling to discuss it. She sighed. What an enigma. She smiled back at him and went into the bathroom to change.
She put on one of her own creations, a slinky black jump suit with a red bodice and single strappy sleeve, and ran a brush through her long hair. She probably wouldn't wear the outfit around anybody except King. Another part of her fantasy life, she thought, and grinned at her reflection. She realized then that her lipstick was in her purse, so she went back into the bedroom to get it.
"Oh, fudge," she muttered, fumbling through the contents. "I don't even have a lipstick." She lifted her eyebrows in a speaking look, expecting him to read her mind, as usual. And he did.
"Sorry, I never use the stuff myself," he said dryly. "Do you really need one?" he asked, shouldering himself away from the door, a cigarette in his hand. He didn't often smoke, but tonight was unsettling him.
"Your sexy sister-in-law will be sure to notice if I don't make myself as beautiful as possible," she teased.
He came close to her, towering over her and letting his eyes wander with uncharacteristic boldness down her slender body. "If you'd put lipstick on," he murmured, "probably I'd have kissed it off by now, don't you think?"
Her heart jumped up into her throat at the unfamiliar look in those dark eyes. They searched her face, only to drop and linger on her full breasts, and suddenly she wished her neckline were a bit higher. He hadn't seemed to notice her body in the very revealing nightgown, but he was unusually attentive now.
"We shouldn't keep your sister-in-law waiting," she said. For the first time, he was making her nervous. Eyeing him warily, she walked around him, her composure starting to shatter. As usual, when a man came on too strong, she began to draw into her shell.
His lean hand shot out unexpectedly, and he drew her toward him, clamping her waist so that she couldn't move away.
That proximity was new and a little frightening, and she looked up into his dark eyes uncomprehend-ingly. "What are you doing?" she asked nervously.
"Trying to ruffle you a little," he murmured darkly. "You're too neat and pretty to go out there and convince Bess we're lovers."
"All right, then, how's this?" She ran her hand roughly through her hair.
He shook his head. "Not good enough." His eyes dropped to her soft mouth, and for the first time in their relationship he wondered how it would feel to have that soft mouth under his lips.
She felt his strong fingers bite into her waist, and her eyes widened. "Hold it, now, big fella," she cautioned gently. "I'm not on the menu, remember?"
His eyebrows rose curiously. "Are you afraid of me, tidbit?" he asked in a tone he'd never used before. It was deep and slow and sultry, like the look in his dark, faintly amused eyes.
"That doesn't enter into it," she replied. "I won't let you use me for real. I won't substitute for your sister-in-law, King."
His face hardened. "I don't recall asking you to," he returned curtly, releasing her.
"Good. As long as it's just an act, we'll get along fine," she said sweetly, although her legs were wobbling from his unexpected nearness. She could almost drown in that heady, expensive cologne of his, which clung
to her skin from just that brief contact with him. The situation was far too intimate, and she quickly changed the subject to divert them both. "Is Bobby anything like you?" she asked. "I've never met him, you know. They were always back in Oklahoma when I was down here."
"We don't look a lot alike," he mused after a minute, finishing his cigarette. "You'll see for yourself soon enough."
She forced a smile. "Don't worry so much," she said, attempting to ease his obvious anxiety. "They'll leave soon, and you'll get your life back together."
With a rough sigh, he put out the cigarette and stuck his hands into his pockets. "I hate being in this position," he said unexpectedly, glaring toward the door.
"Doesn't your brother pay her any attention at all?" she asked quietly.
"He's very competitive," he replied. "He doesn't like running a close second to me. He never has. With the oil glut bringing the price of crude down, we've both had to diversify. But I've done it with more success than he has. Now he's going to catch up or kill himself. Unfortunately, Bess has become a casualty."
"Do they have children?"
He grimaced. "Bobby wanted to wait until they were completely secure."
"Aren't they, by now?" she probed gently.
He glanced at her. "They're comfortable, but they've gotten used to credit in a big way. Bess has diamonds and a sports car, but it could all go up in smoke tomorrow. That's how close they're living. Bobby's scared, and with good reason. This Jamaica project will either pull him out or break him, and he knows that, too."
Elissa didn't say anything, but she felt sorry for Bess. For a wife, the worst thing in the world must be having a husband who never noticed her. Elissa's parents were always together at home, even if they were doing different things. They might be apart physically, but when they looked at each other, you knew that they were always one.
"Talking about it won't solve this problem," he said after a minute. "You don't mind carrying out the charade?" he added, raising his eyes.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 29