"Frightened?" King asked his sister-in-law in a tone so tender that it hurt Elissa.
"Not now," Bess whispered, her heart in her eyes.
Elissa looked away, unable to bear the tender smiles they were exchanging. Across the aisle, Bobby, once more buried in his paperwork, hadn't even noticed.
When they touched down in Miami, Elissa breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting next to King and Bess had been utter torment, but now she could escape. She could go home to her parents and try to forget all about this. She didn't ever want to see the two of them together again. If that meant selling her cottage, well... The thought was horrifying. She couldn't bear it if she never saw King again! Her eyes filled with hot tears, and she swallowed them down before he could see them. How had this happened? They'd been friends. She almost wished he'd never touched her. She could almost hate him for making her so aware of him, of her feelings for him.
They cleared customs and immigration again, and Elissa stood a little apart while King said goodbye to Bobby and Bess.
"We need to get going," he told them, "so we won't wait to wave you off. I'll be back to the ranch in a week or so. Check with Blake Donavan and make sure everything's all right. He's supposed to be looking out for me while my foreman's on vacation."
"Imagine Donavan having time to do that," Bobby said with a laugh. "The last I heard, he was up to his ears trying to hold on to his own place after his uncle died. All those greedy cousins of his, filing lawsuits..."
King chuckled. "Donavan won, didn't you hear? Hell of a businessman."
"And a dish," Bess said playfully, glancing surreptitiously at Bobby. "He's never married, either. I wonder why not. Do you suppose he's nursing some hopeless passion for someone?"
No one responded to Bess's musings, but Elissa saw King's face harden. Then he forced a smile as he 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. Puzzled. 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.
"What a cheerful man you are," she replied, staring 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 overjoyed! 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 remarked. "Would you like some, Mr. Roper?"
"King has to get back to Miami," Elissa said firmly, staring up at him. "Don't you?" she emphasized.
"Not at all," he replied with a maddening smile. "I'm in no hurry."
"Delightful," Mrs. Dean said with a grin. Her eyes twinkled. "How do you feel about reptiles, Mr. Roper?"
"Well, I used to have a pet horned toad," he began.
"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 contentedly 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 open
ed 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 lizards, 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 collected 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. 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 department."
"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 rewarding. I often look up the people later and try to get to know them." Her eyes softened. "I've managed 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 curiosity. 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 ancestry."
He frowned. That was true. They often shared their thoughts and feelings and dreams, and he'd even told her about his family, but he'd never bothered to ask about hers. He felt oddly guilty about that now and inordinately curious to know more about this little spitfire.
"My grandfather had a Seminole name, which he changed," Tina continued, looking at King. "Is Roper your father's real name?"
King smiled and told her the Apache word for Man Who Throws Rope. "That's why he changed it to Roper," he added.
"Do you like to fish, Mr. Roper?" Elissa's father asked, coming into the kitchen.
"If you mean deep-sea fishing, no," King replied. "But if you mean dipping a worm on a hook into a creek, yes."
Mr. Dean grinned. "My sentiments exactly. There's a nice little swamp about two hour's drive from here, where you can get some of the biggest bream and crappie you ever saw."
"We have a spare room," Tina Dean added, smiling at him. "It's quiet here; we're off the main drag. I see that Elissa looks horrified, but we won't let the lizards eat you, and if you're as tired as you look, the change might do you good, Mr. Roper."
Elissa went red. She'd forgotten how outspoken her mother was. She did look horrified. She felt horrified. Don't do this to me, she wailed silently. He's in love with another woman, and I want to get away from him.
King turned toward Elissa and saw that look on her face. "If you don't want me to stay, I won't," he said gently.
The soft tone made her toes curl. What could she say? "I don't mind," she murmured.
"I must look tired if it shows that much," he said, winking at Mrs. Dean. "Yes, I'll stay, thank you."
"Wonderful!" Mr. Dean chuckled. "We'll find some lazy projects to keep you relaxed."
"I'll fatten you up," Mrs. Dean seconded, giving him a critical glance. "You look undernourished."
Elissa could have laughed. He might look trim, but he was very muscular under his shirt. She flushed, wondering what her parents would say if she confessed that she'd watched him swim in the nude from her cottage window. She forced a smile and finished her iced tea while her mother asked about his work. He replied that he was in oil and gas. It didn't dawn on Elissa until much later how her mother had interpreted that remark.
"To think, a handsome man like that working in a garage," Mrs. Dean sighed as she made supper.
"What?" Elissa asked sharply.
"Well, he's in oil and gas," she explained patiently, "and despite the nice-looking suit he's wearing, which he might have borrowed, I think his watch and ring are only copies of expensive ones. He's trying to impress us, darling, to show us that he'd be a good catch for you. I'm very flattered. I like him. So does your father. And there's nothing wrong with working in a garage. His parents probably own it, you know, and that's probably their home in Jamaica. They must just let him use it."
Boy, had her mother gotten it wrong. But Elissa bit her tongue. This was better. They didn't need to know how rich King really was; it might inhibit them. She liked their response to him, and his to them. She couldn't bear to spoil it. She'd tell them later, after King was gone.
Her eyes closed. Despite her trepidations, it was marvelous to have him in her home, to savor being with him away from Bess's influence. She was in heaven. Even if he only stayed overnight, she'd love the house forever afterward, because she'd see him in every nook and cranny of it. And if he married Bess, well, her dreams wouldn't harm the two of them very much.
Chapter Seven
After supper, King and Elissa went for a stroll along the beach. It was very much like Jamaica at night, the whitecaps rolling onto the beach with a foamy whisper.
"You don't mind that I'm here, do you?" he asked casually.
"No." She had changed into shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, and she was enjoying the feeling of the cool white sand on her bare feet. She tossed back her long hair and sighed, drinking in the peacefulness of the setting.
He was still wearing his slacks, but he'd unbuttoned his shirt halfway down and was wearing thongs instead of shoes. He looked very casual, not at all the elegant millionaire he really was.
"I didn't know you'd been raised a Baptist," she commented, turning her eyes seaward.
He glanced at her. "And I didn't know that you had Seminole blood."
She smiled. "I've got a little Irish, too, and a trace of German."
"I've got some Irish myself." He stopped her, gesturing toward a hermit crab diving into a hole in a small sandy bank. "I had one of those for a pet once. They're cute."
"With those claws?" she groaned.
"Claw, woman," he chided. "Well, one big one and one much smaller one. They don't pinch that hard."
"You wouldn't feel it with hands the size of yours, I guess."
He slid his hands into his pockets, stretching the expensive fabric of his slacks against the powerful muscles of his legs as he walked. "I like it here," he said lazily. "I like your parents, too. I can see now why you're such an independent little cuss. They're very open and honest."
She laughed softly, enjoying his company and the cool breeze and the solitude. "You'd really think so if you'd heard what my mother said about you."
He stopped, looking down at her. "What did she say?" he asked with interest.
"She says that you're very handsome to work in a garage, which your parents must own, and that that's their villa in Jamaica. They just let you use it. Your watch and ring are copies of the real thing, to impress them. Oh, and you probably borrowed that expensive suit you're wearing."
His eyebrows shot up, and he began to laugh, but not in a sarcastic or mocking way. It sounded like pure delight. "They think I'm a grease monkey?"
"You told them you were in gas and oil," she reminded him. "My parents don't know any oil magnates but they know a lot of mechanics."
"Well, I'll be damned," he mused. "I think I like that. Yes, I think I do. I haven't been treated like a normal human being in my adult life. At least not since I hit it big."
"You have so," she retorted. "Do I treat you like a big fish?"
He pursed his firm lips, then smiled at her, his white teeth gleaming in the pale light of the half moon. "Not really," he admitted. "That was one of the things I liked best about you. After I realized that you weren't chasing after me because I was rich," he added.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 35
