Her Royal Bed

by Laura Wright

  “Yes,” she said seriously. “I do have a date. With my sister-in-law and a shopping mall.”

  His expression changed like quicksilver. Rigidity morphed into that lazy, roguish grin that made her knees buckle. He took her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Jane waved goodbye to Abel and the kids and headed toward the truck with Bobby. On the way back to Sakir and Rita’s house, Jane reflected on her time at KC Ranch and how she’d felt so alive there surrounded by the kids, air and life that was being nurtured every day. And once again, she thought how lucky Bobby was to have made such a valuable choice.

  “The kids liked you.”

  Bobby’s husky voice stole her from her thoughts, and she looked at him and smiled. “And I liked them. Maybe next time I can volunteer…maybe help out in the corral or make lunches or something.”

  “We welcome any and all help,” he intoned seriously.

  “You might regret saying that,” she said sardonically rolling down her window for a shot of the sweet, early-fall wind. “You just might be seeing me every day.”

  “No regrets here,” he said, his voice oddly gentle.

  The hungry expression in his blue eyes made Jane’s throat tighten, made her feel as though she couldn’t swallow properly. She cleared her throat. “I had a great time today.”

  “Not disappointed in the humble surroundings?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she admonished halfheartedly. “I’m a simple girl. I don’t need fancy, never have—just clean and comfortable and homey.”

  His dark head tilted, his voice dropped. “Is that so?”

  “That’s so,” she insisted. “Except…”

  He frowned. “Except what?”

  “The next time,” she began as they turned into Sakir and Rita’s long driveway, “why don’t I make the toast?”

  Bobby grinned suddenly. “I did warn you, darlin’.”

  The mall was fifteen minutes outside of Paradise. The massive lump of concrete consisted of two department stores, ten specialty shops and a small food court. Not exactly the ideal place to shop for elegant linens, china and flatware. Jane had suggested they travel to Dallas or rent what they needed, but Rita had assured her that she wanted the party to be as warm and rustic as it was stylish, and rented settings might feel too impersonal.

  Jane had been more than happy to hear that Rita didn’t want a stuffy affair, but as she combed through burgundy placemats that were made from a material she’d never heard of, she wondered if a happy medium were even possible here.

  She tossed the items back onto the shelf and walked toward Rita, who was sitting on a bench holding Daya. Their faces were very close together and Rita was whispering something to her two-month old daughter. A combination of emotions swelled inside Jane—jealousy, affection, happiness, hope.

  “How do you not eat her right up?” Jane said, coming to stand before them.

  Rita kissed Daya. “I eat a large meal right before I pick her up to snuggle.”

  Jane laughed. “Is having a baby the best thing in the world?”

  “Definitely. Of course, it helps having a husband.”

  “Yeah, and I bet Sakir changes her diapers,” Jane said sardonically.

  “Actually he does. And in the middle of the night, too.”

  “No way,” Jane said, aghast. She couldn’t imagine her stoic brother changing poopy diapers at one in the morning.

  “Men are funny, aren’t they?” Rita stood up, cuddled the baby against her chest. “They only let you see one side of them until they trust you.”

  As Jane helped her sister-in-law reorganize her stroller, shopping bags, diaper bag and blankets, she wondered if Bobby was only allowing her to see one side of him. She guessed he was. After all, they hadn’t known each other very long. But that only led Jane to wonder what the other side of him looked like. Was it the angry, bitter man she’d seen the other night or someone else?

  “Let’s walk, shall we?” Rita suggested.

  “Sure. We could head over to Young’s. I hear they have a wider selection and a china department. And on the way we can talk more about the menu.”

  As the baby cooed and shoppers around them grabbed for the deals of the day, Rita explained, “I want something fun and interesting. Same as the food. Can that be any broader?” She laughed at herself. “My sister, Ava, has made me promise to have ribs, so we have to have those.”

  Jane nodded. “I’ve never met your sister.”

  “Nope, not yet. Ava and her husband, Jared and their little girl, Lily, have been away, in Florida. Disney-world, actually.” Ava rolled her eyes. “I can’t even imagine Jared there, riding in teacups, standing next to Mickey for a photo op. Jared’s great, but he’s a pretty uptight guy.”

  Jane laughed. “Can’t wait to meet them.”

  “You will. The whole gang will be at the party. Jared’s grandmother, Muna, too. She’s a trip.”

  They were just crossing the threshold into Young’s department store when Rita spotted something in the distance and gave a little gasp. She turned to Jane and grinned widely. “We’re being followed.”

  “What?”

  “Well, actually, you’re being followed.” Rita poked her finger in the direction of women’s nightgowns and lingerie. “Over there.”

  Jane looked in the direction that Rita indicated and felt her heart drop into her shoes. That strange breathlessness she’d felt when she’d first seen him at the Turnbolts’ party hit her again—and oddly just a few hours after she’d left him standing on her doorstep. Walking toward them, far too tall, dark and masculine to be shouldering through racks of white lace and silk, was Bobby Callahan. He was dressed in the same faded jeans, T-shirt, Stetson and boots, and he looked good enough to eat.

  Bobby grinned at the two of them as he approached. “Afternoon, ladies.”

  Jane smiled brilliantly at him. “Afternoon, Mr. Callahan.”

  “How are you, Bobby?” Rita asked, a slight wariness threading her tone.

  Bobby nodded. “Real good, thanks.”

  “Shopping for undergarments?” Jane asked, eyeing the row of silk and cotton he’d just emerged from.

  “Don’t wear undergarments.” He winked at her, and when she blushed he laughed. He turned to Rita, saw her balancing the baby in one arm and a large shopping bag that hadn’t been able to fit under the stroller in the other, and said immediately, “Let me help you with those, Mrs. Al-Nayhal.”

  “Thanks,” Rita said, still sounding slightly uneasy, though she smiled pleasantly as he took the bag, then pushed the stroller through the store as they all walked along.

  “So what are you shopping for?” Jane asked him, clearly wondering why he had come to search her out just hours after they’d seen each other.

  “A new toaster.”

  At his grin, Jane laughed.

  Bobby felt like the back end of an ass right now. He hated lying, especially as he stared straight into those bright-green eyes of Jane’s, but his vow demanded that he use whatever means necessary to accomplish his goal. He knew that Sakir hated him, which probably meant that his wife felt less than fine with Bobby dating Jane. And Bobby needed to see Jane without any chance of interference. If Rita approved of him, helped Jane to cast aside any doubts about his sincerity, then they would have the time it took for a woman to fall in love. Just the thought of having Rita Al-Nayhal on his side, thinking him a good man—even telling her husband so—made a warlike smile break on his face.

  “You missed me, didn’t you?”

  Jane’s query ripped him away from his thoughts. When he raised his eyebrows to her teasing smile, she added, “It’s okay to admit. It won’t crush your masculinity.”

  Bobby chuckled. “I’m in a ladies’ department store. I think my masculinity’s already been compromised.”

  Beside them, Rita cuddled Daya and sang softly to her as Bobby continued, though he felt the woman’s gaze on him from time to time. “Truth is, darlin’, after I dropped you off, I realized t
hat we hadn’t decided what we’re doing tonight.”

  “Doing tonight?” Jane repeated, rubbing her chin in mock thoughtfulness. “I don’t recall—”

  “Oh, c’mon, Jane,” Bobby interrupted with an arrogant smile. “You know as well as I do that we’re spending the night together.” He turned to Rita then, gave her a wicked grin. “Pardon me, ma’am.”

  For a moment Bobby wondered if his take-what-you-want attitude offended Rita, but it didn’t seem to. And after all, she was married to Sakir Al-Nayhal.

  “No pardons necessary,” Rita said at last, a cautious, though far more friendly smile tugging at her mouth. “This old married woman with a baby is gonna take off for a little bit. Be over here if you need me.” She turned away from them and pushed the stroller over to the linens section.

  A wave of triumph moved through Bobby. He’d made some headway here, made a few new and improved impressions that Rita would no doubt share with her husband. He turned back to Jane. She was smiling at him, familiar and open, with that touch of humor that made him want to kiss her and talk to her at the same time. Damn, why did he have to want her this way? Why couldn’t she have been anybody but who she was?

  “Something you wanna ask me, cowboy?” she teased.

  “How about dinner tonight, maybe a moonlit ride?”

  “I’m not the greatest horsewoman.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he insisted.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because,” he said, moving closer to her, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I’m going to teach you how to ride.”

  Jane felt her skin turn hot with his blatant innuendo. Here they were, standing in the middle of a crowded store with sales people pushing half-price sweaters, laughter and cries emerging from the many baby strollers around them, and all Jane could think about was lying horizontal on something moderately soft, with Bobby’s mouth on hers.

  “Come with me now,” he murmured, his eyes liquid and hot.

  The push to say yes was almost torturous, but Jane forced herself to decline. “I can’t,” she explained with a soft smile. “We’re not finished here. I’ve got to work on this party. We have china and linens to buy today. This gathering is really important for my family, but most of all, it’s important to my niece. It’s her special day.”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “I can wait.”

  Those words curled inside her, and the wicked smile he shot her only added fuel to an already blazing fire. It was a good thing Rita walked over then, because Jane was tempted to forgo the soft place to fall and kiss him rather obscenely against a rack of maroon table runners.

  Little Daya was fussing, scrunching her face up and squirming in Rita’s arms. Rita shrugged. “She’s a little cranky. I’m thinking maybe we should go.”

  Jane glanced at Bobby. It would have been the perfect opportunity for him to get his wish. Baby crying, baby and mommy go home, Jane and Bobby start date right now.

  But instead of waiting for the inevitable wail from Daya, Bobby said, “Let me try, Rita.”

  Jane gaped at him, so did Rita. It was a pretty well-known fact that men normally ran from a fussing baby unless they were biologically linked to the child.

  “Are you sure, Bobby?” Rita asked, looking totally convinced that he was wasting his time.

  He nodded and reached for Daya. “Trust me,” he said confidently, wrapping the fussy little girl in his arms and tucking her against his massive chest. “I’ll have her cooing in no time. Babies love me.”

  For a moment, Jane actually thought Daya was going to smile, but the flicker she saw on either side of the baby’s mouth was step one of a full-on freak-out. As Bobby rocked her gently, Daya began to cry. When he tried making “shushing” sounds, Daya’s cries turned to wails. And when he stopped moving altogether, a sound so painful and pitiful exploded from the little girl that both Jane and Rita reached for her.

  Bobby looked dumbstruck as he handed the baby back to Rita. He kept on repeating the words, “I don’t get it,” over and over.

  “It’s all right, Bobby,” Rita said over Daya’s slowly deflating din, her gaze as concerned for him as for her daughter. “She’s a little skittish with new people.” Rita turned to Jane and rolled her eyes. “Just like Sakir.”

  Jane shifted her gaze to Bobby, who appeared a little detached, though he still had that crestfallen expression in his eyes. “Hey,” she began, tucking her arm through his. “We need a big strong man to help us to the car. You up for it?”

  “And you’re bigger than most, Bobby,” Rita said encouragingly, Daya now sans tears in her arms.

  “No, you’re the biggest,” Jane amended, and the two women smiled at him affectionately.

  Releasing a breath, Bobby shrugged. “All the compliments in the world can’t make up for being rejected by a two-month-old, but I suppose I’ll just have to take what I can get.”

  Jane smiled at him as he gathered the packages. Poor guy, she mused as she followed him and Rita out of the department store and into the parking lot. She knew it was a ridiculous notion, but she couldn’t help wondering if the animosity Sakir had for Bobby might have somehow infected his daughter.

  “Do you wish to torment me, my love?”

  “Always,” Rita said lovingly, sitting in her husband’s lap, her arms around his neck.

  Sakir pushed the leather captain’s chair away from his desk and around to face the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Holding his wife tightly, he looked out at the unending land of his backyard. “So, Callahan shows up at the shops, and you allow him to hold our child?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” He eased her away a few inches so that he could look into her eyes. “You know how I feel about the man.”

  “And I know how Jane feels about the man,” Rita said, strength in her tone. “And how he feels about her.”

  Sakir shook his head. “He is toying with her.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What makes you so certain?”

  Her hands cupped his face. The sun, hanging low in the horizon, bathed his handsome face in a reddish glow. “I know what need and longing look like in a man’s eyes.”

  A slow grin worked its way to Sakir’s face. “Yes, it would seem you do, dearest.”

  She leaned in and kissed him, warm and slow. “We had our struggles, too, Sakir,” she said against his mouth. “But we overcame them and look at us now. Happy, in love, our beautiful child sleeping upstairs.”

  “Yes. I am a most fortunate man. I am proud of what we are and what we have. But Jane is my family now, too. She is Al-Nayhal.”

  “Jane is a strong woman with a great head on her shoulders.”

  “She will always be my little sister, dearest, and I would die before I let anyone hurt her.”

  “I know.” Rita wrapped her arms around him, kissed him deeply, passionately. “That’s why I love you so much.”

  “And I love you.” His mouth covered hers hard then, his hands fisted her sweater.

  “What can I do to take your mind off this?” she asked against his mouth.

  “Off what?” he muttered, lifting her up and placing her on his desk. A sinful smile tugged at his mouth as he eased her back and lifted her skirt.

  Six

  “What’s the big idea?”

  The playfully gruff tone of voice made Jane grin. Poised at the stove, towel over her shoulder, she glanced over at Bobby, who was wearing a sexy pair of black jeans, a white shirt and a bewitching scowl on his handsome face. “Is there some problem, Mr. Callahan?”

  “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest and nodded at the steaming pan of chicken marsala she was working on. “Here I thought my eggs and bacon—”

  “And toast,” she teased. “Don’t forget about the toast.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And my slightly charred toast…”

  She laughed.

  “Well,” he muttered darkly, “I thought my meal was
pretty damn impressive.”

  “It was,” she assured him, turning back to the stove.

  “But look at this.” He gestured to the steaming pan of chicken and mushrooms in a wine and butter sauce. “It looks…professional.”

  “I did happen to mention that I am a chef, right?”

  “Well, sure, but you didn’t say what a big show-off you are.”

  She turned to glare at him, even tried to look shocked, but the sexy twinkle in his eyes had her busting out laughing again. “You won’t care when you taste this, along with the penne and pine nuts.”

  “What, no dessert?” he said sullenly.

  “I saw that ice cream in your freezer, Callahan. Ice cream trumps all other desserts, even the fancy ones.”

  He tossed a stray mushroom into his mouth. “I didn’t know that.”

  “It’s a chef thing.” The late-afternoon sun settled over the house, bathing the spacious kitchen in a friendly, yellow light. “You know, some of my fellow chefs back in California actually prefer a hot dog with the works to sea bass and pesto butter.”

  “Yeah, well, who wouldn’t?” Fork in hand, he stabbed a tender piece of chicken and popped it into his mouth. He groaned, and tossed her a hungry look. “I don’t want this to sound sexist, but damn, lady, your place is in the kitchen.”

  Feeling incredibly close to him in that moment, she smiled a little shyly. “Thank you. I think.”

  Upon Bobby’s insistence, and the fact that they were both starved and didn’t want to wait until the food was plated, they stood side by side at the stove, eating chicken marsala and penne with pine nuts right out of their respective pans. As a chef, it was a fairly normal thing to do—skip the table and just go for the good stuff. But she’d certainly never tried it with a man before.

  And such a man.

  Bobby made no secret about his feelings—well, for her food anyway. He ate with gusto, showering her with praise after every bite. Pleasure coursed through her at his words and his passionate expression. This was why she’d gotten into culinary arts in the first place. Good food for people who really enjoyed it.