Her Royal Bed (8 page)

This relationship, if she could even call it that, was growing dangerous with every moment they spent together. Bobby clearly was swimming in a sea of bitterness. He turned away from the realities of his past, clung to his own beliefs. For what reason, she wasn't sure. But she feared she had a weakness for men with injured souls, men who loved her cooking and made her laugh. She suspected that in some way her brother had it right. Bobby Callahan could very well break
her heart. And what a fool she was for taking that chance.

Her gaze flew to his face. So rough, so sexy, with eyes that held a thousand emotions, five hundred of which were happiness and hopefulness and caring for others and a deep sense of compassion. She wondered if the truth would ever set his soul free.

She took another bite of ice cream and said thoughtfully, “Romeo and Juliet.”

Bobby turned to stare at her, eyebrows raised. “Pardon?”

“That's what's happening here. With us. Did you read that play in high school?”

“Sure. Boy and girl fall in love, then off themselves.”

She grinned, pointed her cleaned spoon at his chest. “They
off
themselves, as you so delicately put it, because their families are bitter enemies and they'll never allow Romeo and Juliet to be together.”

“I don't have any family, darlin'.”

“It's the principle of the thing,” she explained.

“So, what's your point? That we're going to end up dead if we continue to see each other?”

She laughed. “No, of course not.” The laughter melted into a reluctant smile. “But we might end up hurt.”

His expression changed from playful to cryptic in a nanosecond. “Anything's possible, I suppose. Found that out a long time ago.” He dug his spoon into the frozen treat. “But…”

“But what?”

His gaze found hers. “Is the possibility of pain later on worth the pleasure now?”

“Wow, that's a question.”

“All I'm saying is that we've got something here, happening between us. Why worry about the future?”

With her spoon mining into the ice cream, Jane replied, “Well, I guess because I'm a woman and that's what we do. Worry. About the future and a hundred other things.”

Bobby set the bowl on the table beside the swing and pulled Jane onto his lap. “I think about you too damn much, you know?”

“I don't know if I'd put it that way, but I think about you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she replied, grinning, allowing the heaviness of their ride and all conversation about family to fall away.

Bobby repositioned the blanket over her shoulders and let it cover him. “What do you think about?”

She smiled. “That night.”

“Ah, yes. That night.”

“Your eyes,” she whispered.

He found her neck, grazed his lips over her pulse point, and uttered, “Your skin…”

She smiled, closed her eyes. “Your mouth…”

He pulled her face down to his and covered her mouth. This time, there was no anger in his kiss, only desire. He tasted like chocolate and cold, and the sound of his breathing, heavy and hungry, made every nerve in her body jump with excitement. When his tongue darted out, lapped at her upper lip, she opened for him, her breasts tightening in response. Such a heady reaction to just a kiss was new for her.

With a hungry whimper, she curled her arms around his neck and pulled his head closer so their kiss could go deeper. Running on pure instinct, Jane closed her lips around his tongue and sucked.

Bobby went stiff, then shuddered. He pulled away from her, and she saw that his eyes were near-black with need, his breathing labored.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, concerned.

“Not yet, Juliet.”

A strange blow of emotion sank into her chest. Why would he be the one to say that? To pull away and say something like that? He wasn't the one taking the chance here…was he? He was the one who didn't want to worry about the future. She closed her eyes for a moment, deeply confused, desire and frustration running a race in her blood.

He gently lifted her off him. “I'll take you home now.”

“I didn't ask you to.”

“I know.” He took her hand and led her off the porch.

W
hen Jane walked through her brother's front door that night, she felt weary, aroused and more confused than ever. What had started out as a light affair had shifted into something far more than casual fun. Bobby seemed to be agonizing over moments of intimacy, limited though they were, and Jane couldn't figure out why. Was it that he really didn't want her? Had that one amazing night they'd shared taken all the mystery out of their relationship?

Melancholy twisted around her heart. She felt the exact opposite. That one night had been an awakening for her, a moment where she'd come to realize that there might be a man out there for her—and the thought of exploring more nights in his arms made her breathless with anticipation.

As she walked into the living room, she felt a heavy gloom cover her, then noticed that it was the house that had brought on the feeling. Sakir and Rita's home was unusually quiet and dark for nine o'clock. No Marian, no Rasan, Sakir's assistant. Had everyone gone to bed? she wondered, following a dimly-lit hallway toward the kitchen. A nice cup of hot chocolate sounded like just the thing to take up to her room to aid her as she tried to get Bobby Callahan's blue eyes and hard mouth out of her head.

But before she reached the kitchen, a chunk of yellow light purged into the hallway ahead. Soft laughter followed. Both light and sound were coming from Sakir's library. There was something in the sound that drew Jane toward it like a tired body to a soft bed. She paused in the doorway, found Sakir and Rita sitting hand in hand on a brown leather couch. They were chatting with someone Jane couldn't see due to a white-leather high-back chair.

Sakir looked up when Jane entered the room and seemed to fight between a welcoming smile and a worried gaze. Jane wanted to tell him irritably that he didn't need to worry—that Bobby Callahan had barely touched her tonight, but she didn't get the chance when he quickly said, “You have a visitor. And a very charming one.”

Rita nodded to the person before her, and Jane, eyebrows furrowed, stepped farther into the room. Rounding the chair, she nearly fainted with pleasure when she saw the beautiful, long-legged blonde.

“Mom!” she exclaimed, running straight for her like a lost toddler.

Crushed in her daughter's zealous embrace, Tara Hefner laughed. “How are you, sweetie?”

“I'm fine. But why didn't you call to tell me you were coming early? You weren't supposed to be here for another week.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Sakir nodded deferentially. “And a very welcome surprise it is.”

Rita smiled in agreement.

Jane appreciated her brother and sister-in-law's kind welcome. She'd expected Sakir to be aloof, like their brother Zayad, maybe even a little cynical upon meeting the woman who'd long ago had an affair with his father. But if he felt anything at all on that front, he masked it very well.

“I've missed you so much,” Jane said with undisguised passion.

“And I've missed you,” Tara said, easing her daughter onto her lap. The blind woman let her fingers loose on Jane's face. “You feel tense. What's going on? Are you all right?”

The fact that her mother could feel her mood always unnerved Jane. Even after her mother had lost her sight, Jane had never been able to get away with anything.

Tara took Jane's hand and squeezed it. “Mr. Al-Nayhal was just telling me that you were out with a man who might not be the best company.”

Jane tossed Sakir a semi-irritated glare. “Don't listen to my big brother, Mom. He's just being over-protective.”

Rita laughed. “I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to that, Jane.”

An eyebrow lifted in Jane's direction, Sakir shrugged lightly. “I merely was telling your mother the truth. And please, Tara, I wish for you to call me Sakir. We are family now.”

Tara looked toward him, her unseeing eyes bright. “Thank you. It's good to have family.”

“Sometimes,” Jane said with a dry smile.

Everyone laughed, except Sakir, who managed a tight grin. For the next forty-five minutes, they sipped wine and talked about Jane's time in Emand, little Daya's entrance into the world and her upcoming party. When the clock in Sakir's library struck ten, Jane noticed her mother's well-disguised yawn.

“Are you tired?” Jane asked. “You had a long trip.”

Tara nodded. “I am tired.”

“I'll take you up,” Rita offered kindly.

But Jane was already helping her mother to her feet. “No, thanks, Rita. I'll go with her.”

“Your bags have been taken to your room,” Sakir said, then turned to Jane. “Tara is in the blue room, just down the hall from you, yes?”

Jane nodded.

“Goodnight, Tara,” Rita said warmly.

Her arm through her mother's, Jane guided the older woman upstairs. They walked several hallways chatting softly about the size of Rita and Sakir's home, and how they could have fitted their entire house inside the main hall.

The blue room was large and comfortable and, true
to its name, had bed linens, pillows and walls done in different shades of blue. The first thing that Tara wanted to do was unpack, but, as Jane had expected, her clothes and personal effects had already been put away.

With an easy sigh, Tara sat on the bed, her back resting against the headboard, and gestured for her daughter. “Come here, sweetie.”

Feeling six years old, Jane crawled onto the bed and curled up beside her mother. She smelled like lavender and vanilla, and Jane let her head fall into the woman's lap.

“Now, tell me what's going on,” Tara pressed gently.

Jane told her mom about her dates with Bobby Callahan, naturally omitting the night they'd shared at the Turnbolts' charity event. Then she went on to explain the situation between Sakir and Bobby.

Tara took a moment before answering, but when she did her voice was soft and wise. “It seems that neither Sakir nor Bobby is in the wrong here.”

“I know.”

“Bobby's story is a hard one. That's a lot for one soul to bear in a lifetime.”

“And he hides the pain well.”

“Through bitterness and a good defense?”

Jane looked up, surprised. “Yes.”

“Well, that's a natural response to happiness or pleasure or anything good that happens.”

“Why?” Jane asked.

Tara shook her head and said almost wistfully, “You feel guilty enjoying life when your other family members can't.” Lovingly, she kissed Jane's forehead. “Don't you remember when we went to the beach for the first
time after I'd lost my sight? Don't you remember how you felt?”

Undeserving, guilty. Yes, Tara was right. “Well, I don't know if it's anger or guilt that he feels, but whatever it is, it drives him.” Jane sat up, took her mother's hands. “I really like him, Mom, but I can't help wondering if Sakir's right. Is Bobby Callahan out for more than just a few dates?” With her thoughts running over the night's events, Jane shrugged. “Maybe it's better if I just stay away from him.”

Tara smiled. “Only you can make that choice.”

“What would you do?”

“Oh, sweetie,” Tara said on a laugh. “I couldn't make that call. I'm in the same boat as Bobby Callahan, still steeped in bitterness.”

“What?” Jane stared at her mother. “That's not true.”

“Like your friend, I hide it well. Perhaps better than most.” Tara eased Jane's head back down to her lap. “But unlike your friend, I think I'm too old to change that part of myself.”

Her mother's words settled over Jane, making her feel more confused and on edge than she had when she'd entered the house earlier that night. The admission from her mother was bizarre. Jane had never imagined Tara pining and wallowing over her affliction. Jane had only seen her strong, and spouting off wise words about survival and acceptance.

Good Lord, if her mother could fool her so, what should she think about Bobby Callahan? Would he ever change? Could he let go of his bitterness and embrace life? Did he even want to?

Jane couldn't help but wonder if she was seeing things, people clearly anymore—or through some rosy filter of her own making.

“Well,” Jane began to say tightly, “it seems that I'm falling hard for a man who I'm fairly convinced can never offer me a future.”

“It's strange,” said Tara in an emotional voice. “Strange that our lives should follow such a similar path.”

“What do you mean?”

“I, too, fell in love with a man who couldn't give me a future.

Sakir and Zayad's father. Yes, he'd been married, the leader of a country. Totally unavailable.

“But I have no regrets,” Tara said, leaning down and giving her daughter another kiss on the forehead. “After all, he did give me you.”

 

“You call that girl of yours. Tell her to get herself out here.”

Bobby ignored Abel's ridiculous demand as he helped Laura Parker with her riding helmet. It was close to eight o'clock in the morning, the sun was shining brightly, and Bobby had an excited group of riders ready and waiting. For the first time since he'd taken Jane home last night, his mind wasn't on her.

But thanks to Abel, she was back to the forefront.

“Said she wanted to help, didn't she?” Abel persisted.

“She did,” Bobby muttered.

“Well, we're going to need it later on today. Twice as many students as usual.”

“We can handle things just fine.”

“Don't be stupid.”

Bobby threw the older man a dangerous glare. “She wouldn't come anyway. Something tells me she doesn't want to see me today.”

“Why's that? What did you do?”

“What I always do.” He'd found a reason to distance himself from any feeling that wasn't productive. He could handle anger or irritation or despair—even plain and simple sexual pleasure—but forging a connection between his black heart and another's strong, healthy one had him backing off to get his bearings, and once again reaffirm what he was doing with her. Damn, why couldn't he and Jane have stopped this the night he'd found out who she was? Bobby cussed under his breath as the reason stabbed at him. He hadn't stopped this tryst with Jane because he had payback on his mind.

Thing was, he hadn't bargained on liking the woman—wanting her, yes, but liking her, no.

The mare beside Abel shifted and stepped on the edge of the old man's foot. Abel swore darkly, then looked sheepish as the teenager he was helping brush down the horse lifted his eyebrows. He lowered his voice and leaned into Bobby. “You're going to end up a lonely old goat.”

“Look who's talking,” Bobby shot back.

The teenage boy chuckled, then stopped when Abel sent him a testy glare. Again, he leaned into Bobby and whispered, “That wasn't my choice and you damn well know it.”

Bobby swatted at a fly. “Fine.”

“But you do have a choice, boy.”

Bobby looked Abel straight in the eye, prepared to utter some stay-out-of-my-business comment. The older man had been with Bobby for too long. He knew too much, spoke whatever was on his mind with little thought of the impact. But Abel also had been a good friend, so Bobby curbed the need to argue and muttered a quick, “I don't have time for this. As you said, we have a big group today,” then walked away.

 

“Are you sure it's all right if I tag along?”

“Of course,” Jane assured her mother as she pulled one of Sakir's cars into the driveway of KC Ranch. “Bobby's foreman said he'd love another set of hands helping the kids with their gear and lining them up and things like that.”

“Because I don't want to be a burden.”

The warm morning sun filtered through the passenger-side window, setting her mother's pretty face in a flattering pale-yellow glow. “Mom, why are you talking like this? It's not like you to be so—”

“Self-pitying? I know.” Tara laughed weakly. “I'm feeling a little lonely lately.”

“Even with all of your friends?” Jane asked as she parked the car in one of the vacant spots in front of Bobby's house.

Tara shrugged. “I suppose they're not the kind of friends I want.”

Realization dawned. “Oh.” In twenty-some years, Jane had never known Tara to be lonely, to want the comfort of a male “friend” in her life. She had always
been so caught up in life, in her art and in Jane. But of course she'd want companionship, love.

Really, who didn't?

Jane walked around the car and opened the door for her mother. Tara took her daughter's hand and they walked up the path toward the house. “It's been a long time since I put my oar in, so to speak.”

“I don't think much has changed. There still are sharks out there.” Jane grinned. “But every once in a while you snag a great catch.”

Tara laughed. “I like this metaphor. Goes well with my Piscean nature.” She squeezed Jane's hand, then said softly, “So you don't mind? I have your blessing to date?”

“Not that you need it, but of course you do. Go fishing, Mom.”

“Fishing!” came a weathered, though highly masculine voice from the porch.

Jane looked up and saw Abel Garret leaning against the railing. He smiled at them both. “You two have plans with a few horses today. No skipping out for trout, understand?”

If he only knew to what they referred, Jane mused with a laugh. She turned to Tara, who looked a little flushed all of a sudden. “Mom, this is Abel Garret. Abel's the foreman here at KC Ranch.”

“Among other things.” Abel, aware that Tara was blind, shot down the stairs like a man half his age and took Tara's hand in his own. “Pleasure, ma'am.”

Tara groaned, then laughed.

“What'd I say?” Abel asked Jane, perplexed.

Jane grimaced. “Ma'am.”

“Makes me feel very old, Mr. Garret,” Tara said, her face shining with humor and good health.