Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  “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 flirtatiousness. “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 uncomprehendingly. “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.

  “Not at all,” she said, smiling gamely. “I’ve always wanted to try my hand at acting.” She struck a pose, the back of her hand across her eyes. “I vant to be alone!”

  “You imp.” He chuckled. He shook his head on a sigh. “You’re a puzzle, little miss designer,” he murmured, watching her narrowly. “I’m amazed that no enterprising young man has ever seduced you.”

  She shrugged. “Most young men don’t like seducing a minister’s daughter,” she said pertly. Her eyes twinkled. “I almost got in trouble one time, defying my folks. It hurt my conscience and frightened me a little, but I bounced back.”

  “Did you really?” he mused. “Then why are you still a virgin?”

  “Because you don’t undo twenty-five years of conditioning overnight,” she replied easily. She searched his dark eyes. “If I ever did let a man seduce me, though, I’d want him to be like you.”

  His heart stopped. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say as the thought worked on him and made his body react in a shocking way.

  She shifted, embarrassed at her own boldness, although his stony face didn’t give away a thing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just meant that you’re a special kind of man. I know you’d never have to hurt a woman to feed your ego.” She sighed. “I guess you’ve probably forgotten more about sex than I’ve ever learned.”

  “I guess I have, honey,” he said, studying her down-bent head with a slight frown. He caught her hand in his—offering a small measure of comfort, he told himself. “We’d better go out.”

  At his strong, possessively warm touch, which set her palm to tingling, she looked up and met his searching gaze. It was like electricity. Startling. Unnerving. Her very breathing seemed to be affected by it.

  “Yes,” she said absently. His mouth was beautiful in a very masculine way, and she couldn’t seem to stop looking at it.

  He touched her long hair gently, his eyes still probing hers. She was trembling, he noticed in amazement. Then he looked down at the bodice of her jump suit and was surprised to find her nipples hard against the fabric—very obviously there was no bra beneath it. Suddenly he wanted to smooth his hands over her breasts. He wanted to taste her warm mouth and feel her body yield against the strength of his. His eyes narrowed at his own disturbing thoughts.

  “I wish you wouldn’t look at me that way,” she said with that irrepressible honesty that had always intrigued him. “It … it makes me feel shaky.”

  His eyes rose to hers once more. “When I look at your breasts, you mean?” he asked gently.

  Her lips opened on a shocked breath. He’d never spoken to her that way.

  He could have bitten his tongue. What in hell was wrong with him? This was Elissa; they’d been friends for a long time. It was Bess who was getting to him. He sighed, wondering why he’d never before really noticed this little imp with her exquisite body and lovely face.

  “I didn’t mean to say that,” he said vaguely. He dropped her hand, turned away from her abruptly and lit another cigarette. “I’m in a hell of a situation. I guess I’m more disturbed than I realized. Come on. Let’s get it over with.”

  “All right.” She followed him, her mind whirling. Had he been drinking? Would that explain his odd behavior? Perhaps wanting Bess had worked on his mind long enough to disorient him. That had to be it. He’d looked at her and he’d seen Bess. It was nothing to worry about.

  “You’re sure about this?” he asked before he opened the door.

  “Of course,” she assured him.

  He sighed. “Well, let’s see if we can carry it off.” He held out his hand again.

  She slid her slender fingers into it, a hesitant, but trusting “Okay.” She looked up, batting her lashes. “Oh, Kingston, you’re so sexxxxxxy!” she drawled.

  He laughed unexpectedly. “Cut it out. You’re supposed to convince her.”

  “I guess I can try.” She sighed. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

  Bess was sitting on the edge of a chair, glancing toward the hallway when they emerged. The blonde’s very blue eyes narrowed and there was real hostility in them for an instant before she skillfully erased it.

  “I didn’t know King had a … a girlfriend,” Bess said, deliberately hesitating over the word. She smiled with sleek sophistication. “He said you’d had a quarrel and went back to Florida. But you seem to have made up.”

  “Oh, in the most delicious ways, too, haven’t we, darling?” she asked King with a fluttering of her long lashes.

  He chuckled. “I guess so,” he mused, but he didn’t look at Bess.

  “Where in Florida do you live?” Bess continued.

  “In Miami, most of the year,” Elissa replied. She let go of King’s hand and smiled at the older woman. “I understand you’re married to King’s brother?”

  Bess glanced down at the drink she’d poured herself. “Yes. I’m Bobby’s wife.”

  “You’re cuuuuute!” Warchief burst out, circling his cage with appropriate whistles and clicks.

  Bess stared at the big parrot. “You flirt,” she accused the bird, forcing a smile.

  Elissa relaxed a little. Bess wasn’t so bad; at least she liked parrots. “He likes women,” she explained, “but he’s really in love with King. When I take him home, he mourns.”

  “Oh. He’s yours?” Bess asked.

  “Yes. He stays with King when I’m in the States, and I’ve only been back since this morning.”

  King glanced at her quickly. “Want a drink?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Elissa said. She read him very well. He was warning her not to let too much slip. She smiled. “Do you have pets, Bess?”

>   The other woman shook her head. “No pets. No kids.” She sounded oddly wistful. She laughed, a hollow, haunting melody. “No nothing. It’s just me and Bobby—when Bobby’s ever home.”

  “Hard times, Bess,” King reminded her. “If he doesn’t keep on the ball, you’ll have to give up your diamonds.”

  “It wasn’t the diamonds I married him for, but he won’t believe that,” Bess replied. She looked up, her eyes searching King’s face with what looked like pure longing. “Remember how it used to be, in the old days? Bobby and I would go to amusement parks and spend hours on the rides. Sometimes you’d take an afternoon off and come with us, and we’d stuff ourselves with ice cream and cotton candy….”

  “It isn’t wise to look back.” He handed a vodka and tonic to Elissa.

  “It isn’t wise to look ahead, either,” Bess replied miserably. “All I do is sit in hotel rooms these days … or sit at home alone.” She glared at her drink. “It’s a miracle I’m not an alcoholic.”

  “Don’t you have a job or anything to keep you busy?” Elissa asked without thinking. At Bess’s obvious chagrin, she hastily added, “I’m sorry, that sounded like a criticism, but honestly it wasn’t. I just meant, if you had a project or a hobby, it might be less of a strain to be alone at times.”

  “I don’t know how to do anything,” Bess said sadly. “I married fresh out of high school, so I never really learned how to do much … besides be a wife.”

  The irony of Bess’s situation wasn’t lost on Elissa. “We can all do something,” she said gently. “Paint or write or play an instrument or do crafts….”

  “I used to play the piano,” Bess replied. She looked down at her hands. “I was pretty good, too. But Bobby resented the time I spent practicing.” She laughed bitterly. “How’s that for a reversal?”

  “I’ve always wished I could play,” Elissa said enthusiastically, glancing at King’s set, solemn face and hoping to alleviate the tension Bess’s comments were feeding.

  “You design clothes, don’t you?” the other woman asked curiously, her eyes faintly approving the jump suit. “Did you design that?”