Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  “Yes, do you like it?” Elissa asked eagerly. “I haven’t shown this one to my parents. They’d be—” She stopped short, jamming on verbal brakes as King glared at her. “They’d be delighted,” she concluded weakly.

  “Of course they would. They’re very proud of you,” King said quickly.

  “What do your parents do?” Bess asked politely, raising her glass to her lips.

  Elissa gnawed her lip. “They’re … they’re into ancient history,” she said truthfully. Wasn’t the Bible a record of human history, after all?

  “How interesting.” Bess finished her drink, tossing back her hair as she glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her slender wrist. “Bobby’s late,” she muttered. “Another business meeting that ran overtime. Or so he swears,” she added under her breath. “Too bad I’m not a briefcase; I’d be swamped with affection these days.”

  “It’s a difficult time, Bess. Subcontracting can be extremely time-consuming,” King reminded her. “Jamaica desperately needs outside investments, and the hotel Bobby’s planning will employ a lot of people, help the economy. But it has to be properly built. These things take time.”

  “It’s been months already,” Bess muttered dispiritedly.

  “It will be over soon,” King said, “and you’ll be back in Oklahoma City.”

  Bess looked up. “Yes, I suppose I will. What a trip to look forward to. Instead of staring at hotel walls, I can stare at my own for a change,” she said dully. Her eyes searched King’s. “You never visit us anymore, Kingston. You spend most of your life here.”

  King swirled the Scotch in his glass and stuck his free hand into his pocket. “I like Jamaica,” he said. He glanced deliberately at Elissa. “A lot.”

  Bess took an audible breath and drained her glass. “Pour me another, would you, please?” she asked, handing it to King.

  “I think you’ve had enough, Bess,” he replied. He took the glass and put it aside, gazing down at a chastened-looking Bess. She merely folded her hands in her lap and looked defeated.

  Elissa was trying to decide what to do to cheer them all up when a car came up the winding sandy drive from the main road. A horn sounded, and seconds later, a car door slammed.

  “It’s Bobby,” Bess said dully.

  King strode to the door to meet him, and Elissa found Bess staring after him with quiet misery in her eyes.

  Elissa watched Bess watching King. “What’s your husband like?” she asked, diverting her.

  Bess blinked, looking startled. “Bobby? He’s … he’s a businessman. He doesn’t look much like Kingston, even though they had the same mother. Kingston’s father was Indian,” she added.

  “Yes, I know.” Elissa smiled at her. “You’re very pretty.”

  Bess’s eyes widened. “You’re very frank.”

  “It saves thinking up lies.” She cocked her head at the other woman. “How did you and Bobby meet?” she asked.

  Bess laughed softly. “You’re so unexpected! Bobby was our star quarterback, and I was a cheerleader.”

  “King says you’ve been married about ten years, yet you never had children,” Elissa mused aloud. “Didn’t you want any?”

  Bess sighed, looking at her shoes. “When would Bobby ever have time? He’s always at the office or on the phone.” She pushed back her hair angrily. “I never thought it would be like this. I thought—Anyway, who wants kids?” she murmured, avoiding Elissa’s eyes. She shifted restlessly on the couch. “They just clutter up people’s lives. I would love to go back to studying piano again, though. But my practicing would disturb Bobby when he’s trying to work at home.”

  “How sad,” Elissa said, and meant it. “I think a woman needs fulfillment as a person, just as a man does.”

  Bess frowned. “It floored me when you asked if I did anything. You know, I never realized that I might be able to do something with myself….”

  Elissa heard male voices; King and Bobby were approaching, much to her relief. She was finding this hard going. It shouldn’t have bothered her that King was in danger of falling in love with this bitter, confused woman, but it did. It bothered her a lot.

  “How long have you and Kingston been … been together?” Bess tried to sound casual, but there was pain in her voice.

  “Well …” It was extremely difficult for her to fabricate, and Elissa was grateful that King and a shorter man suddenly appeared in the doorway.

  “There you are. Finally,” Bess said as the younger man came in a step ahead of King. She looked at him and then averted her eyes. “Did you get what you went for?” she asked. The question sounded innocent enough, but Elissa sensed something in the blonde’s voice, something faintly accusing. Perhaps she wondered if Bobby’s “business” was really business.

  “Of course,” Bobby replied. He gave his wife an intent appraisal, his gaze both searching and faintly defensive.

  He wasn’t anything like King, Elissa decided. His hair was dark blond, and he was blue-eyed. He wasn’t a bad-looking man at all, and he was slim but well built. He had a nice mouth, and he seemed pleasant enough altogether. But he looked weary and worn, and there were deep lines in his face.

  “Your husband has approved the subcontractors,” King announced with a grin. “And the bids were well under budget. He’ll make you a rich woman yet, Bess.”

  “How lovely,” she said carelessly. “I’ll run right out and buy a new mink.”

  “You’d better get a strong cage and some thick gloves,” Elissa said with a mischievous smile.

  Bess looked up, clearly puzzled by the remark. She frowned. “Cage? Gloves?”

  Bobby got the joke and burst out laughing, instantly looking years younger and more approachable. “I’m afraid you’ve got it wrong,” he told Elissa. “She doesn’t want a mink kit. She wants the real thing—a ready-made coat.”

  “Oh, a fast-food mink in a manner of speaking,” Elissa agreed. “Got you.”

  King’s eyes sparkled as he watched her, his firm lips tugging up in a smile. “Watch this girl,” he cautioned his half brother. “She’s got a quicker mind than I have.”

  “That’ll be the day you old—I mean, darling,” she drawled at King, winking. “I happen to know that yours is a genuine steel trap, always set and ready for business.”

  “A better description I haven’t heard,” Bobby agreed. “You must be Elissa. Kingston’s told me so much about you over the past couple of years that I feel as if I know you already. Tell me, how in the world do you put up with him?”

  “Why, there’s nothing to it,” Elissa said, glancing wickedly at King, and oddly pleased to hear that he talked about her at home. “I got commando training by watching that television show about professional mercenaries.”

  “I guess that’s telling you,” Bobby said with a chuckle, winking at King.

  “I guess it is,” she agreed.

  “Kingston isn’t all that bad, surely,” Bess interrupted, smiling gently up at him. “He’s kept me from vegetating on this island for the past two weeks. I don’t know how I’d have managed without him.”

  Bobby laughed, failing to see Bess’s intent look at his brother. He seemed to be too busy looking at Elissa. “Good thing, too, considering how little free time I’ve had,” he tossed off to his wife. “You know, Elissa, you’re every bit as delightful as Kingston said you were,” he added.

  Elissa smiled, murmuring a polite reply. She was totally unprepared for the shock and sudden irritation in Bess’s eyes.

  Chapter Three

  Bobby spared Bess a faintly curious glance before his attention went back to Elissa. “I’m glad you’re back,” he told her. “Kingston’s been a royal pain these past few days.”

  King frowned, but he didn’t rise to the bait.

  “So you did miss me.” Elissa batted her lashes at King. “How nice!”

  “Of course I missed you,” he said curtly. “Bobby, what will you have to drink?”

  “Nothing,” Bess said quietly. “
I’d like to go back to the hotel now,” she told her husband with a cool stare. “I’m tired.”

  “Try sitting in a board meeting for four straight hours and see how relaxed that leaves you,” her husband challenged. “Look, Bess, we’re leaving tomorrow, and I may not see Kingston again for weeks. I want to talk over a new project with him.”

  “You can use the phone, can’t you?” Bess asked, exasperated, as she got gracefully to her feet. In three-inch heels, she was almost her husband’s height. “Lord knows you find time to talk to everyone else, but heaven forbid it should be me. Maybe I should make an appointment.”

  “You just don’t understand, do you?” her husband said with a resigned sigh. “Never mind, babe. We’ll go.” He glanced apologetically at King and Elissa. “Thanks for the invitation, even if I don’t get the drink. I’ll call you in the morning, big brother.”

  “Fine,” King replied.

  “We could go for a ride,” Bess murmured to Bobby as he joined her.

  “A ride? Are you crazy? I still have to go over bids!” Bobby snapped.

  Bess started to speak, then seemed to give up. “Yes, of course.” She led the way to the door, calling over her shoulder, “Good night, Kingston, Elissa.” She didn’t look at either of them. She just kept walking out into the sultry evening breeze.

  “I don’t know what in hell’s gotten into her,” Bobby apologized. “She’s been worse since we came down here. I can’t very well stop working, can I? I don’t have time to entertain her. The oil market is too depressed to support us. If we hadn’t diversified a few years back into real estate, we’d be living in public housing by now!” He glanced at King. “She’s so bored with everything lately. Suppose I let her stay with you for a week or so while I fly back to Oklahoma and catch up at the office?” he asked King in all innocence.

  Elissa, standing at the door beside King, could feel him tense against her. “Elissa and I are going to spend a few days with her people in Florida,” he replied unexpectedly, his quick glance daring Elissa to deny it. “Not that Bess isn’t welcome to use the house …”

  “No, I don’t want her here alone.” Bobby sighed. “It was just a thought. So your people live in Florida?” he added, smiling at Elissa.

  “Yes, in Miami,” she replied. This was unexpected. Surely King was hedging, but the thought of taking him home with her made her nervous. Her parents didn’t approve of her fashions; they certainly weren’t going to approve of her friendship with a man like King. They’d think he was a playboy. And for King to actually spend time around her eccentric parents! Her heart almost stopped. But then she reminded herself that he was only playing for time, of course. He wasn’t serious.

  “What do they do?” Bobby persisted.

  “My father is a min—” She caught it just in time, even before King unobtrusively pinched her. She jumped. “He’s in ancient history,” she bit off, glaring at King. “And my mother is a housewife.”

  Bobby nodded. “Any brothers or sisters?”

  She shook her head gladly. “No. Just me.”

  “You’d better get going,” King interrupted, as if he didn’t like the interest Bobby was showing in her. “Bess will take the car if you don’t.”

  “She will at that,” he agreed. “Well, good night.”

  “Good night,” King replied.

  Bobby left, and a minute later the car roared angrily down the driveway.

  “They don’t seem ideally suited, do they?” Elissa asked quietly, watching the taillights disappear among the palms.

  “They used to be,” King replied. “When times were hard, they were always together, doing simple things like window-shopping or just walking. Then, when the money started coming in, Bess was like a kid in a candy shop. She had to have all kinds of expensive things.” He sighed. “And Bobby wanted her to have them. He worked harder and harder to give them to her, but it kept him away from home a lot. When the oil market fell, he went into partnership in a small construction firm back home.”

  He paused, as if thinking, then continued pensively, “Bobby’s always felt obliged to compete with me. In recent years, he’s tried even harder. That means Bess spends too much time alone, and she isn’t the kind of woman who can just sit. She isn’t even domestic. Too bad she and Bobby never wanted children.”

  He turned, missing Elissa’s sharp glance. Didn’t he know that Bess was just hiding what she really wanted? Elissa was sure that the other woman did want children, very much. He poured himself another Scotch. “Want another?” he asked as an afterthought.

  She nodded. “Yes, thanks. Why does he want to compete with you?”

  “It’s the way he’s made, I guess. The second brother isn’t going to be second best. He’s twenty-eight now, and I think he wants to best me financially before he gets to be my age.” He poured Elissa’s drink before he opened the sliding doors to the beach. He stood there, tall and unapproachable, the breeze running like fingers through his thick black hair as he watched the surf crash white and frothy onto the hard-packed sand beyond the patio. “He doesn’t like the fact that his father allowed me to inherit,” he added. “His father and I got along pretty well—in a business sense at least—and I think Bobby somehow felt threatened by that.”

  “He’s your half brother, of course,” she said hesitantly, remembering how little King liked to talk about personal matters.

  “That’s right.” He lifted his glass to his lips with a bitter smile. “He’s not a duke’s mixture—didn’t you notice?”

  She glared at him. “Neither are you,” she snapped. “You’re part Apache, which is something else entirely.”

  He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. “Thank you for clarifying the situation for me,” he murmured dryly, and he went back to contemplating the outside world.

  For a few minutes they sipped their drinks in silence, and Elissa wondered at the sense of freedom the liquor gave her. She hadn’t had more than a small glass of wine in a long time. But the vodka seemed to be doing strange things to her, making her extremely aware of King, diluting her inhibitions. She felt light-headed. Reckless. Her body burned with new temptations. She put down the empty glass, and her hand seemed to move in slow motion. King was close to finishing his drink, too. Was it his third? She couldn’t keep track. Bess had gotten to him, all right. Elissa wondered if he was completely sober.

  “Do you have other family?” she asked after a minute, joining him in the doorway.

  “Bobby’s father died some years back. Our mother is in a nursing home,” he added simply. “Alzheimer’s disease. We visit her, but she doesn’t know us anymore.”

  “How terrible for you. And for her.”

  “It is that,” he agreed. He took a long swallow. “I don’t know about my own father. He got sick of my mother’s rich friends and left us when I was just a boy.” He studied his glass. “He was from New Mexico, but he worked on oil rigs in Oklahoma. That’s where he met my mother.” He glanced at her. “She was blonde and blue-eyed, like Bobby, and she loved the good life. Money was everything to her. My father had simpler tastes.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked,” she replied quietly. It startled her that he was willing to share such a personal thing with her. Either he was extremely upset by Bess, or the alcohol was affecting him.

  She stared at his shirt where he’d unbuttoned it and removed his tie. Against the white fabric, his skin looked even darker than usual. Her eyes were drawn to the thick mesh of hair over hard, bronzed muscle.

  As if he sensed that rapt stare, he turned toward her and his eyes caught hers. He didn’t look away. While her heart went wild, with deliberate slowness he tossed away the cigarette he’d just lit and took a step toward her, bringing her totally against him, so that her breasts touched his chest where his shirt was open. She wasn’t wearing anything under the jump suit, and she could feel her nipples harden at the contact with him. Tensing away from him, she wondered uncomfortably if he felt them, too.

  “Anything
sexual disturbs you, doesn’t it?” he asked softly, well aware of the tension in her body. “Well, I’m safe—you said so yourself. So why don’t you cut your teeth on me?”

  “I can’t!” she gasped. He had her with her back to the sliding glass door, so that she was trapped between its coldness and his warmth, her breasts wildly sensitive against his hard chest.

  “Shh,” he whispered at her temple. “Don’t panic. I won’t hurt you.” He smiled softly. The drinks had done the trick; he was finally feeling relaxed and slightly muddled, which was a relief from all the heavy thinking he’d had to do lately. He couldn’t have Bess, he reasoned now, but Elissa was fair game, wasn’t she? Shy and virginal—how tempting to a man. What would it hurt to give her a little experience? He cared about her, in a way. And who better to deal with her repressions? She’d almost admitted earlier that she’d let him.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked in a high-pitched tone. Her fingers started to push him away, but when her hands encountered warm, hair-roughened skin, they stopped struggling and flattened against him. She realized she didn’t feel like resisting, anyway. The alcohol had done something to her willpower. She felt more like relaxing against King than fighting him; his proximity was having a throbbing effect on her body.

  “Because I need something to occupy me, to keep me out of trouble. So you’re going to be my hobby,” he said.

  “I don’t want to be your hobby,” she protested weakly. Her legs felt trembly.

  “I was yours at the beginning,” he reminded her. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself.”

  “That was different. You were repressed,” she said defensively. He was too close. She was inhaling the tangy, clean scent of him, and it was intoxicating her more than the vodka had. His bared chest was hard under her fingers, and between seeing him and smelling him and feeling him, she was adrift on sensation, her heart pounding. All that devastating masculinity, so close.

  “I was repressed?” he asked with an amused smile.

  “You were all alone,” she said quietly, avoiding his eyes. “I felt sorry for you. I was alone, too. I … well, I thought it would be nice to have a friend.”