Fit for a King (15 page)

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Diana
Palmer

Fit for a
King

117

shook Bobby's hand.
"Take care of yourself and Bess."

 
“Sure, sure. Thought
we might find some time to go horseback riding this weekend," he added
with a grin at Bess, who looked amazed. "Bess and I might
pack a
picnic lunch."

"You
on a picnic?" Bess murmured. "Do you go
with or without your pocket
calculator?"

"Don't
be catty, you sweet little thing," Bobby
said, chuckling.
"See you, Elissa. King will have to
bring you out
sometime and show you the place."

"That would be nice," Elissa murmured politely.

Bess didn't say goodbye to
either of them, except to force a smile and wave as she walked ahead of
Bobby down the terminal.

King watched her, his heart in
his eyes. Elissa
couldn't bear that, so she
picked up her carryall and
began to walk toward the exit.

"Where
the hell do you think you're going?" he
demanded, falling
into step beside her to reach for her
bag with an impatient hand.

"Home,"
she replied. "There's no need for you to
come with me. You're
perfectly safe now. You can
check into a hotel somewhere and—"

"I said I'd take you
home," he reminded her, his
tone cool
and authoritative. "Sit over there while I
arrange about a car."

She did,
angrily, still wounded by having watched
him with Bess. She had to get herself
under control,

she thought. It
wouldn't do to let him see how deeply
involved with him she'd become.

She gave a
brief thought to her parents and how
they were going to react to having
her home so unexpectedly. At least she didn't have to worry about King's
meeting them; he'd probably be glad to let her
off at the gate of their modest house
outside Miami
and rush off.

But when
King pulled up at her parents' beachfront
house and surveyed
the surrounding dunes and the
waves of the Atlantic rolling lazily to shore
behind it,
he seemed in no hurry to leave. He gazed at the hibiscus
lining the front walk, along with the graceful
palms and a banana
tree her mother had planted years
before, took in the white front gate
and the lounge furniture on the porch and remarked, "It reminds me
of your
cottage in Jamaica."

"They're similar. Well,
thanks for the ride." She
started to
get out of the car, but he clasped her wrist, then her fingers.

His eyes were very dark,
looking into hers. Puz
zled. Faintly
disturbed. "You've been quiet. Too quiet."

She
shifted restlessly. She didn't want him asking
questions or making
assumptions. "My parents aren't
expecting me," she muttered.
"I'm trying to figure
out what to tell them."

"Tell
them a hurricane blew over your cottage,"
he suggested, tongue in cheek.

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"What
a cheerful man you are," she replied, star
ing at him. "Why don't you go into
comedy for a
living?"

"Stop
fighting me," he murmured as she tugged
against his firm but
gentle hold. "You'll hurt my
ego."

"It
could stand a little deflation," she said crisply, glaring at him.

Comprehension took the playful
expression from
his face, leaving his eyes
narrow and glittering. He
dropped her
hand. "She can't help it any more than
I can," he said, his tone cold and cutting.

"So
I noticed." She reached for the door handle.
"Good thing for
you both that your half brother is
blind as a bat and keeps his nose
stuck in his papers.
Those quiet types are the ones who go for
their guns
without asking for explanations. You and Bess would
look
lousy on the front page of the tabloids, full of
bullet holes."

"Would
we?" he asked with surprising mildness.
"You seem to find
the idea satisfying."

She
grabbed her carryall and slammed the door,
about to add something
cutting. But just as she
opened her mouth, her mother, clad in a
flapping red-splashed muumuu, came rushing through the gate like
a
barefooted, white-haired tornado.

"Darling!"
she enthused, grabbing her daughter up
in a fierce hug, her
blue eyes dancing with glee. "Oh,
what a delicious
surprise! Your father will be over-

joyed! He's just
bought another crawly for his collection and wants to show it off to someone—
Who are
you?" she added, staring over Elissa's shoulder as
King came around the car.

"Kingston
Roper," he answered easily, studying
the tall, thin
woman. "You must be Elissa's mother."

"Yes,
I am. I'm Tina Dean." Her mother withdrew
a little, her blue
eyes confused and a little curious. "Is something wrong?"

"King
is my neighbor in Jamaica," Elissa said. "He was kind enough to offer
me a lift from the
airport. We flew over with his brother and sister-in-
law."
She could see that Tina Dean was quietly sizing
him up, taking in
his tailored suit, his hand-stitched
shoes, his silk tie and expensive
accessories. She
could almost hear her mother's mind clicking, sorting
through
what Elissa had told her of her friendship with King and trying to put two and
two together
about what this obviously wealthy man was doing
with her
daughter.

"I
have some iced tea in the kitchen," she re
marked. "Would
you like some, Mr. Roper?"

"King
has to get back to Miami," Elissa said
firmly, staring up at him. "Don't
you?" she empha
sized.

"Not at all," he
replied with a maddening smile.
"I'm in
no hurry."

"Delightful," Mrs. Dean said with a grin. Her
eyes

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twinkled. "How
do you feel about reptiles, Mr.
Roper?"

"Well,
I used to have a pet horned toad," he be
gan.

"Oh,
Mother, no," Elissa moaned, putting her face
in her hands.

King gave
her a curious glance before Mrs. Dean
took his hand and led him into the
house.

Elias Dean
was in his study, where he kept his collection of exotic lizards. He looked up,
his thick silver hair slightly receding from his broad forehead,
his eyes
covered by thick spectacles with wire rims.
At the sight of his daughter he beamed and
greeted
her warmly. Then he turned his
attention to their new
visitor.

"Well,
hello, who's this?" he asked pleasantly, rising from a terrarium with a
big frilled green lizard in one hand.

King
offered a hand, apparently unruffled by the
"crawlies."
"Kingston Roper." He grinned. "You
must be Elissa's
father."

"That
I am. Do you like lizards, Mr. Roper? This
is my hobby." He
sighed, looking around him con
tentedly at terrarium after terrarium. "I
can't ever
seem to
get enough, you know. It's up to ten curly-
tails
now, several spring lizards, newts, salamanders... But this is my pride and
joy." He reached for
a door and opened it. Inside was an enormous
pool
with potted tropical plants all around
it. On a rock in

the pool under a
fluorescent lamp was Ludwig, a four-
foot iguana who looked like a
dinosaur. He stared at
them with total boredom and closed his eyes.

"Iguana?" King asked, clearly interested.

"Yes.
Isn't he beautiful?" her father asked. "He
was only a baby when
I got him. I had to force-feed
him the first week with a big syringe, until he took
fruits and vegetables on his own. I like frogs,
too. I
want one of those huge African
frogs—they weigh
ten pounds. She doesn't like frogs," he added with
a
miserable glance at Tina.

Tina laughed. "You're just
lucky I don't mind liz
ards, Elias.
Although I did draw the line at that ball
python you were ogling. Snakes disturb me." She
shuddered. "Lizards are bad enough."

"I
have to have a hobby, my dear," he reminded
her. "It could
be worse. Do you remember that witch
doctor we met down the Amazon, the
one who col
lected heads?"

"I
withdraw every objection," Tina promised,
hand over her heart.
"Would you like tea, darling?
I'm going to pour some for Elissa and her...and Mr.
Roper."

"I'll
be out directly," Elias promised. "I have to feed poor old
Ludwig."

"Poor old Ludwig,"
Tina chuckled as they made
their way back
down the hall to the kitchen, where
sliding doors opened onto a deck
facing the ocean.
"He takes him walking
down the beach on a leash.

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Palmer

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King

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It's a good thing we
have such a loyal congregation."
She shook her head.

"Father
is eccentric," Elissa said quietly, glancing worriedly at King.

He cocked
an eyebrow. "My father collected
rocks," he remarked. "And I
had a great-uncle who could forecast the weather with jars of bear grease.
Compared
to that, keeping lizards seems pretty sane."

Elissa
leaned back in her chair. "Go ahead,
Mother, tell him what
you do in your spare time,"
she dared, watching Tina pour amber tea into tall
glasses of ice.

King frowned slightly and
turned to Tina. "What
do you do in your
spare time?"

Tina set
the glasses on the small kitchen table. "Well, I'm a special deputy for
the sheriffs depart
ment."

"Now,
that sounds interesting," King said, and he seemed to mean it.

"It's
very interesting," she agreed. She got her
own tea and sat down.
"I have so much experience
as a missionary, you see, it gives me a little insight
into people. Some of the folks we arrest are
women,
and I seem to deal with them
better than the men do."
She
smiled wistfully. "I've been on drug busts and
in shoot-outs and stakeouts, and once I jumped a
fence and wrestled down a young pusher and held
him
for the deputies. Yes, it's exciting and very re
warding. I often look up the people later and try to

get to know
them." Her eyes softened. "I've man
aged to get several of them to come to
services on Sunday. And we baptized one just last week," she
added, her voice a little husky. "I suppose
this sounds
pretty saccharine to a
worldly man like you."

"But
I'm not," King said, surprising even Elissa.
"I was raised a
Baptist in Jack's Corner, a small town
outside Oklahoma
City, near my ranch. My father was
Apache, but he bowed to some white customs. He
found church fulfilling for a time."

Elissa was
stunned at how easily King related to
her mother. He'd even volunteered
information about
his
heritage, which he was usually so prickly about.

"Apache," Tina said,
studying him more closely with totally innocent curiosity. "Yes, your eyes
are
very dark, and you have high
cheekbones...."

"Mother," Elissa groaned, "he's not an
exhibit"

King chuckled. "Elissa is
remembering that I can
get touchy about my
ancestry," he remarked with a
smile
in Elissa's direction. "I don't mind honest cu
riosity. I don't
suppose you see many Indians in this
part of
the country."

Tina grinned.
"I guess I don't look it," she told
him, "but I'm
part Seminole, on my mother's side."

King's eyebrows rose. "You
never told me," he
murmured to Elissa.

She
shrugged. "You never asked about my ances
try."

He frowned. That was true. They often shared their