Fit for a King (7 page)

52

Diana
Palmer

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 inter
rupted, 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 hus
band challenged.
"Look, Bess, we're leaving tomor-

54

Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

55

row, 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 walk
ing 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
Flor
ida?" he added, smiling at Elissa.

"Yes,
in Miami," she replied. This was unex
pected. Surely King
was hedging, but the thought of
taking him home with her made her nervous.
Her par
ents
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
par
ents! 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."

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Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

57

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 hes
itantly, 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 en
tirely."

He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Thank you

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Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

59

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 si
lence, 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 ex
tremely 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. "Alzhei
mer'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 blond 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 per
sonal 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 con
tact 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 be
tween its coldness and his warmth, her
breasts wildly
sensitive against his hard chest.

"Shh," he whispered at her temple. "Don't
panic.