Her Royal Bed (12 page)

A grin tugged at her mouth. “Another one of your dad's sayings?”

“Nope. That one's all me.”

Her gaze ran over him, from knocked-around boots to weathered jeans and white T-shirt. He looked like the best thing she'd ever seen, and she hoped to God her brother was wrong. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“For what?” he asked.

“Being a friend.”

Something dark and undefined moved over his eyes and he looked away. The look unnerved her to her very bones. “Well, maybe I should unpack.”

“Right.” He stood quickly. “I have a few chores to finish. You'll be all right here?”

“Sure.”

After he left, Jane unpacked, refusing to think about what could be. Before she went to work on her own future, she had one important task to complete.

With a steaming cup of tea in her hand, she sat at a little desk beside the open bay window and jumped into the party plans for the daughter of the man she wasn't speaking to—but the man she had come to love as a brother.

B
obby had never had a girl in his bed before.

Sounded crazy for a man his age, but he'd always made it a practice to keep women away from his home. It had started out as a protection for his sister, but had continued as a protection for himself. And until Jane Hefner had come into his life, he'd succeeded with that practice. Hell, until Jane, he'd climbed in and out of women's beds, between their starched sheets and beside their fancy pillows.

Didn't want that anymore. Didn't want other women, and didn't want to keep his bed cold.

“So what do you think?”

Lying on the mattress, head on a pillow, Bobby gazed at the woman who had stolen his heart. She sat, legs crossed, sheet tangled, on his bed, holding a pen and a
pad of paper. Bobby hated the paper. It was one of those big, yellow legal pads that blocked his view of her pale breasts and pink nipples.

He sighed, the heaviness of a day spent in lovemaking still clinging to his body. As Abel had taken Tara back to the cottage to get her settled and pack a picnic lunch, Jane had come to the main house to work on her menu for the party. But she'd only got as far as the wine and beer list before Bobby had asked her to his bed.

“Read it over again,” he said, craning his neck to see over the yellow legal pad.

Jane's pen moved down the paper as she spoke. “Tender smoked brisket, cheese enchiladas, mesquite-grilled chicken, beef flautas with a red-pepper cream sauce. Beans and rice, of course, and Tara's cloverleaf rolls.”

“Don't forget about the salads. Got to have a fancy coleslaw and potato salad. Those uppity types love potato salad, but they won't admit it.” He took one of her soft feet in his hand and rubbed the instep. “They're so tight in the hind-parts they won't put it on their plate unless it's gourmet—like with red or purple potatoes or some such nonsense.”

“Got it. Nonsense potatoes.” She laughed as she wrote.

“What about desserts?”

“We're having hot peach cobbler, vanilla buttermilk pie and chocolate fudge pecan pie.”

“Oh, darlin', my mouth's watering.” Abandoning her foot, he reached for the yellow legal pad and pulled it down an inch or two so he could see her face, and the supple rise of her breasts. “Or maybe that's just because I'm looking at you.”

She grinned. “You know your flattery will get you everywhere?”

“I'm counting on it.”

Hard as stone, Bobby flipped back the sheet and grinned. Jane laughed and held her notebook up as a shield. “I still have three staff members to hire.” She pointed at the ancient clock on the bedside table. “And I have to meet them in one hour.”

Bobby seized her ankles and pulled her to him. “Plenty of time.”

The notebook slipped from Jane's hand and landed with a dull thud on the rug as Bobby splayed her thighs, and with a wicked grin, lowered his head.

 

Luck was with her.

Out of the five people Jane had interviewed, she'd found three new fabulous staff members to hire. One young man who worked for his mother's restaurant, but wanted some experience elsewhere was not only going to cook, but also was actually going to act as Jane's buyer since he knew the best butchers, farmers and wholesale suppliers in town.

Things were falling into place, and Daya was going to have a wonderful party, despite all the family craziness surrounding the festivities.

“Jane?”

With a start, Jane turned. Walking up Delano Street, baby Daya in tow, was Rita. Dressed in a pale-pink track suit, the woman smiled warmly and gave Jane a big hug when they met.

Her lips tucked under her teeth contemplatively, Rita asked, “Everything okay?”

“Fine. Great, in fact.” For the next several minutes, Jane filled Rita in on the new staff and the menu she'd concocted that morning in Bobby's bed. “We'll be ready to go on Saturday. I'll probably need to come over on Friday to set up.”

Rita cocked her head to the side. “You're welcome anytime, you know that.”

As people milled up and down the street, gazing in shop windows, laughing or scolding their children, Jane looked directly at her sister-in-law with a sad smile. “How's my brother?”

“Doesn't show his feelings much, but I can tell that he's very upset.”

“I'm sure.”

“He won't budge.”

“He's stubborn.”

Rita gave a melancholy laugh and nodded. “Yes. Please don't hate him, Jane.”

“Oh, God.” Shaking her head, Jane tried to explain what was so heavy on her heart. “I don't hate him. I'm not even mad at him. I just won't be dictated to. Even if this relationship with Bobby turns out exactly the way Sakir believes it will, it'll be my doing, my choice.”

A proud gleam twinkled in Rita's blue eyes. “He had to get used to one strong woman in his life, and he'll do it again.” She smiled at her baby. “And again, no doubt.”

Jane laughed. “No doubt.”

“So, how are things with Bobby?” asked Rita gingerly, her eyes twinkling once again.

Jane knew she was beaming, but she didn't care. “Wonderful.”

Rita smiled. “I'm happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Little Daya started to fuss and the three of them walked down the street toward Market Place. The question that weighed heavily on Jane's heart finally inched its way to her lips. “Do you think it's possible to heal this rift between Sakir and Bobby?”

With a shrug, Rita said, “I don't know. Over time, maybe.”

“I hope so.”

A full minute passed as they crossed the street. Once at the other side, Rita paused and gave Jane a knowing smile. “So, when did you realize you were in love with him?”

Jane actually pretended to look confused for a moment, which made Rita break out into a fit of laughter. “Oh, c'mon, sis.”

Tucking her arm through Rita's, Jane sighed as they walked up Grand Avenue. “Well, I guess it was the night he sneaked into your house and into my bed.”

 

When Abel Garret had something serious on his mind, he stood stock-still, his legs splayed, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed into two narrow slits. It was a look Bobby normally paid attention to, maybe even questioned if he had the time. But today, he had a feeling Abel's mood wasn't related to troubles with KC Ranch.

“Something to say?” asked Bobby in a dry voice.

A sound close to a grunt echoed from Abel's throat. “What's going on between you two?

With a glare, Bobby pointed to himself, then the animal beside him. “Trainer, horse.”

Abel scowled. “I'm talking about you and Jane.”

“Right. That makes more sense.”

“Callahan, you answer me.”

Bobby gave the mare beside him a pat and faced his foreman. The man wore his troubled fatherly expression—the one that made Bobby experience equal parts of frustration and fondness. “I like the girl, okay?”

“I think it's far more than that, and so does her mama.”

Bobby pulled off his Stetson. He felt damn hot for a relatively cool fall day. “Hasn't Jane made it clear? She doesn't want anyone interfering in this…this…whatever we got going here—and neither do I.”

“Tough,” said Abel brusquely.

Bobby cursed and walked away from him, toward the corral gate.

Abel followed him. “Family's always involved. May not like it, but there it is.”

Swatting at an irritating pair of flies, Bobby whirled on Abel. “I don't have any family.”

Abel looked as if he'd been punched, and the sight made Bobby's insides kick. He had this angry streak in him, born out of a promise he'd made to a man whose vow for vengeance wasn't altogether sure he believed in anymore, and fed by a vile bag of revenge he was about to dump on the woman who had made his life livable again.

“Listen, Abel—” he began, but the older man was having none of it.

Through gritted teeth, Abel said, “Say whatever you
want to me, but I'm serious about this girl. She's in love with you, Bobby. Sure as a shot.”

Bobby's jaw tightened. He didn't want to hear it, yet he already knew that what Abel said was true.

“Just take care,” Abel added with a shrug, opening the gate.

Noncommittally, Bobby nodded. “Yeah.”

“I think you'd be feeling something strong for her, too, but you'll stamp that out, won't you?”

“None of your business.” Abel didn't know about the vow Bobby had made to his father, but he was sure acting like he knew something.

“Fine. Fine.” The older man waved him off and went down the path toward the house.

“Hey.” Bobby called after him. “Where you going?”

Abel stopped, glanced over his shoulder. “Tara and I are camping out by the lake tonight. She wants to lie on her back and see the stars.”

“See the stars…”

Abel smiled a little sadly. “Through me. You know, that woman may be blind, but she sees a helluva lot more than the rest of us.”

Tipping his Stetson, Abel turned and headed toward the house. Leaning against the fence, Bobby reached into his pocket, took out the watch his father had given him, the one with the old man's picture inside. Bobby stared into the rugged face and felt as though the weight of his stallion leaned heavily on his back. Felt a powerful struggle deep within his heart.

What was he doing? His life, once simple and uncomplicated, had turned into a web of lies and lust and,
more than possibly, love. He didn't want to look at that last part, didn't want to admit that he was going to bring down the woman he needed above all others for a man who no longer walked the earth.

But the promise—that goddamn vow—couldn't be laid to rest without acting on it.

The sound of tires on gravel had him looking up. Someone was coming up the drive. He headed in that direction, arriving just in time to see a long, black car come to an easy, money-soft stop in front of the ranch house.

At first, Bobby thought it was Sakir, and he was glad. He was ready for a war of words, maybe a few punches. He felt wired as hell.

But the man who stepped out of the Mercedes wasn't Sakir, though he sure had the look of him.

“Bobby Callahan?”

Bobby nodded. “That's right.”

“I am Zayad Al-Nayhal. I wish to see my sister.”

T
he first thing Jane saw when she got back to KC Ranch that afternoon was Bobby, sweaty and serious out in the ring, training a particularly lovely jet-black stallion.

The second was Zayad Al-Nayhal.

Her eldest brother, the reigning Sultan of Emand, stood regally beside the steel fence in a stark-white kaftan, his chin hard, and his dark gaze intent on the animal and rider before him.

Jane's heart gave a nervous lurch, which irritated the heck out of her. She hated feeling anxious. But even though her best friend, Mariah, had softened Zayad a little, he was still an intimidating presence. Jane knew that if Zayad had come to Bobby's ranch to try to force the royal Al-Nayhal will on her, she was going to need every ounce of strength she possessed to stand up to him.

She watched him watch Bobby, an air of superiority affixed to his handsome countenance—or was it interest? She couldn't tell. But the former would no doubt be the surest guess. Zayad could not help his attitude. After all, he'd grown up in a palace with an armload of servants to do his every bidding.

What was he doing here? Jane wondered, biting her lip thoughtfully. He wasn't supposed to have arrived in Texas until Friday. Sakir must have called him, told him what had happened and asked him to come and take control of their little sister.

With a forced smile that slowly morphed into a real one, she walked up to her brother and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Well, what do we have here?”

Rarely startled, Zayad turned easily. “Hello, Jane,” he said, his dark eyes intent, his tone warm. “Mr. Callahan was kind enough to allow me to watch his training session, and show me a few of his stallions. This one is a particularly beautiful beast.”

He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “My brother has told me what transpired between you.”

So, Sakir
had
called him. Not much of a shock there. “I'm sorry I wasn't at the house to greet you, but my mother and I—”

“Yes, I know,” interrupted Zayad before releasing a weighty breath. “Sakir is acting the fool.”

Just as Jane was about to agree, Bobby took that particular moment to ride up. He slipped from the stallion's back and joined them. “Who's a fool?”

“I was saying this about our brother,” Zayad told
Bobby, his chin lifted as though he was the only human being alive who was allowed to say so.

Leaning against the fence, Jane looked at the ground. “He's no fool. He's just being protective—in his own irritating way, of course.”

“Does he have reason to be protective?”

Jane's head came up. Zayad was staring at her, then he turned to look at Bobby, one dark eyebrow raised.

Bobby's mouth thinned with anger. “Your sister is more than capable of handling whatever's thrown her way.”

Zayad nodded slowly. “Yes, I believe she is. She is Al-Nayhal, after all.”

“Yes, she is,” Bobby agreed.

A heavy weight sat on Jane's shoulders, on her heart and soul, as well. Bobby had offered neither a yes nor a no to Zayad's question about her needing to be protected. It was possible that Bobby thought the query insulting or maybe he was just too angry at the Al-Nayhals to give any of them a sign of his sincere feelings regarding their sister—Jane didn't know. But that quick, jabbing fear she seemed to experience every time she thought about Sakir's warning and Bobby's feelings reared its unwelcome head once again.

“Mariah is downtown at a restaurant called the Willow Tree.” Zayad's words broke through Jane's uneasy fog. “Will you join us for a late lunch? Tara as well, if she is free.”

“My mother's with a friend right now,” Jane explained, thinking of Tara around the small kitchen table smiling as Abel read her another chapter of
Don Quixote.
“And there isn't much that'll tear her away from him.”

Zayad gave a nod of understanding, then turned to look at Bobby. “Mr. Callahan, would you care to join us?”

“I don't think so,” Bobby said, his face stoic.

“Yes, that would be wonderful,” Jane said, true excitement in her tone. She turned to Bobby. “C'mon, Bobby. Mariah's my very best friend in the world. She's beautiful and pregnant and funny and a great lawyer.” A wide grin split her features. “And if you're real lucky, maybe she'll tell you how she and Zayad met. He moved in next door to us in California and pretended to be just an average Joe. It's a very funny story.”

With a quick roll of the eyes, Zayad explained, “Not one of my finer moments. But I received a most precious gift. My wife and a mother for my son, Redet, and our baby to come.”

“So deception brought you good fortune,” Bobby said, his voice threaded with a lighthearted antagonism that made Jane's stomach churn.

Zayad's face turned to stone. “Pardon me?”

Around them a breeze blew. It was neither cool nor hot, and was scented with aging hay. “Just remarking that deceit for profit seems to run in your family, that's all.”

“Bobby!” Jane said sharply, shocked at his rudeness. But she was allowed nothing else as Zayad turned on the cowboy.

“You do not insult the family of Al-Nayhal.” Zayad warned.

With a cold frown, Bobby nodded. “Whenever I can.”

As Jane tried to think of what to say next, her belly as tight as a trap, the two men stared at each other. Both
exceptionally tall, one all lean muscle, the other brawny and steeped in a bitterness he refused to climb out of.

“Bobby,” Jane began hesitantly, not exactly sure what to say or do to diffuse the situation. She hardly thought a good punch in the stomach would be appropriate, but she was so frustrated at his attitude, she wished she could.

But Bobby didn't stay long enough for a word or a jab. “I have work to do,” he uttered, then turned away, led the stallion toward the other end of the ring, tossing a tart, “Enjoy your lunch,” over his shoulder.

Jane didn't want to look at her brother. She knew what was coming, what he was about to say, and she didn't blame him. When Zayad touched her shoulder, she found his gaze. “Jane, I do not wish to say this, but I think Sakir may be right.”

She shook her head. “No. You don't understand. Bobby's had a hard time of it, Zayad. He's lost his land, his father, his sister. He's lashing out at the family he thinks is responsible for his destruction.”

“Yes, I agree. And you, my girl, will no doubt get caught in the crossfire.”

“I don't believe that,” said Jane, not thoroughly convinced. “But even if I do, it's my choice to make.”

Zayad nodded at long last. “On this point, we agree.”

“I want to help him.”

“You love him that much?”

She nodded. “Will you wait for me in the car?” With a quick, grim smile Jane excused herself from Zayad and went after Bobby. She found him at the other end of the corral, lightly slapping a dusty pad against the
horse's side. She wasted no time, her anger now free to show itself.

“What was that?”

He didn't look at her. “That was pissed off.”

“At what? Zayad's done nothing to you.”

“It's the attitude, Jane,” he said, glancing up, his blue eyes filled with the same ire she always saw when they spoke about the past. “It's the belief that good things come to those who lie and cheat. If someone's going to deceive someone else…” he paused, shook his head.

“What?” asked Jane uneasily. She felt desperate to understand him, help him, heal him. If only he'd let her. If only she could grasp the real Bobby, the one who cared for her, and stamp out the one who hated her family, maybe they'd have a chance.

“Well, they should only expect to get their ears boxed,” said Bobby, his fist tight around the pad. “Get what they deserve for hurting someone else.”

“When Zayad came to California to see me, he was only trying to find out who I was. He knew that deceiving us about his identity was wrong and immoral, and he asked Mariah and me to forgive him. He's more than paid his debt to Mariah.”

Grabbing the rope that had been tossed over the fence, Bobby said sullenly, “The particulars are none of my business.”

“Maybe not, but when you make judgments—”

“They're fair judgments, Jane,” said Bobby, turning on her, his gaze fierce. “A lie is a lie.”

“The world's not that black and white,” said Jane in apple-crisp tones.

“It is to me.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. His conviction for the truth impressed her, but the solid sourness that resided in his eyes made her wince in frustration. “We're obviously at an impasse,” she said finally, feeling a wave a gloom move through her gut. Did they even stand a chance of making it? “I'm going to go now.”

When she turned on her heel and started away from him, he reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. For several moments, he held her close, his breathing slow and steady. Jane closed her eyes and allowed herself to melt into him.

“Darlin'?”

The husky endearment caused the cold navy blue of Jane's heart to warm into a soft pink. “Yes?”

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“Come back. After you see your friend.” He eased back, bent his head and nuzzled her mouth. “I'm an angry bastard, but I need you, Jane. I need you so damn much.”

The torture in his voice, the desperation in his tone, and the love she had for him in her heart made her weak. She let him hold her, let his mouth cover hers, let her weariness of spirit turn into a tumbling sense of desire. “I'll be back.”

Twisted and confused, Jane pushed away from him. The walk from the corral to the driveway to the man waiting for her in his shiny, black Mercedes was one of the longest and, strangely, the loneliest, of her life.

 

“May I say it again?”

Jane laughed at her glowing best friend as they walked down Grand Avenue after their late lunch. The day was slowly turning into evening, but the warm sun filtered through the trees lining the sidewalk with fierce determination. “Okay. Say it again if you feel you must.”

With a dramatic sigh, Mariah put a hand to her growing belly and said wistfully, “I miss your tapioca pudding something awful.”

Again, Jane laughed, and the sound moved through her like music. Ever since she'd found out that the man living next door to her and Mariah was not only the sultan of a foreign land, but her brother, ever since she'd left her home in California, Jane had been walking on a tenuous cloud. She'd missed the girlfriend banter with her childhood friend. It felt comfortable and familiar and it made her feel as though she could open up in ways she never could in Emand—or at Sakir's home.

“So, no pudding in Emand?” Jane asked.

“Of course,” Mariah said as she proceeded to count off on her fingers. “Mango pudding, coconut pudding, the chef even managed a pretty fabulous chocolate pudding. But when he attempted tapioca…” She said no more, only rolled her lips under her teeth and shook her head.

“Well, we'll have to remedy that right now,” Jane told her, giving her a wry wink. “But first, butter pecan.”

“Oh, I thank you and my baby thanks you,” Mariah said with a greedy little giggle as she tucked her arm in Jane's. There was a moment of silence as they headed
toward the ice cream shop, then Mariah inhaled and said slowly, “Just so I know, when I do get my pudding, where do I need to pick it up?”

Shaking her head, Jane chuckled. “That was a smooth segue.”

“Thank you,” said Mariah proudly, flipping her blond hair. “I'm learning quite a bit from Redet, and from that old windbag of a P.R. man at the palace.”

“Not to mention the kids you represent in court, right?”

“Kids are the very best at changing the subject—but I have to say that you come in a close second.”

Jane gave her friend a wide grin. “All right. I'm staying with Bobby Callahan.”

“Yes, I've heard the reports. You sure you know what you're doing?”

“Nope.” The unease that had been running through Jane's blood on a daily basis didn't feel nearly as frightening to admit when she was with Mariah. “But I'm in love.”

“Yeah, that'll pretty much wipe out all good sense.” Mariah wiggled her eyebrows. “And I only know this from personal experience.”

“The thing is, he's a good man, Mariah. Loving and kind and sexy and, well…he makes me feel needed and desired. I've never felt like this about anyone in my life. I want to be his other half, share his life here…if he wants me.”

“Really? You think you might want to stay in Texas? No Emand with your best friend?”

“Tara is really starting to love it here, and…well,” A
warm flush surged into Jane's cheeks and belly. “Emand makes a great honeymoon destination.”

Mariah came to an abrupt halt in front of the ice-cream store. Totally unaware of the throngs of people herding in and out of the glass doors with their double scoops and banana splits, she asked, in all seriousness this time, “Do you think he's going to ask you to marry him?”

Jane shook her head. “I honestly don't know. It's what I fantasize about, if that means anything. Bobby cares about me, I know that much. But he has a lot to work through, people to forgive—his father's choices to come to terms with. But the way Sakir and Zayad talk, it'll be a miracle if Bobby and I end up together.”

In all good friendships, there comes a point in time when one party needs to hear a word or two of encouragement, whether the other person believes what she's saying or not. This was one of those times, and as always, Mariah curled around her friend in an emotionally indulgent way.

“I don't care what anyone says, Jane—or what they believe to be true. I want you to be happy. If you love this man, then you have to fight for that love, right?”