Darling Enemy

by Diana Palmer

  “My God, real slices of ham,” King burst out, lifting the edge of one of the sandwiches.

  “Mama does skimp, doesn’t she?” Jenna laughed. “This was all the ham that was left. Teddi made a ham casserole for dinner tonight and that took the rest.”

  King’s piercing eyes swung to Teddi, lingering on her flushed face. “Ham casserole?” he murmured.

  She lifted her chin. “I like it,” she said defensively.

  One corner of his chiseled mouth curled sensuously. “Do you?”

  He knew she’d made it especially for him, the beast, but she wasn’t going to let him see any reaction from her. “If you’re through, I think I’ll turn in,” she said as she rose, muffling a yawn she didn’t feel.

  He hesitated just an instant, reading quite accurately the apprehension in her wide, dark eyes. “That’s all I need, thanks. For tonight,” he added, and she knew he wasn’t talking about herd records.

  “Coming up, Jenna?” Teddi asked her friend with practiced carelessness as she went toward the door.

  “Right behind you. Say, Blakely and I are going into Calgary in the morning. Want to...?”

  “She’s going to Banff with me,” King broke in.

  Startled, Teddi’s bright eyes shot to his face and were captured by his hard, unblinking gaze.

  “I’ve got to talk business with a man up there tomorrow afternoon. I thought Teddi might like to see the park. Since none of us have ever thought to take her there,” he added carelessly, although the look in his eyes was anything but careless.

  “I...I’d like that,” Teddi heard herself saying. It was like being handed a special present without asking for it.

  “You won’t throw her off the mountain or anything?” Jenna teased with lifted brows.

  King actually laughed. “No, I won’t throw her off the mountain. Satisfied?”

  “You can’t be surprised that I asked,” Jenna countered, escorting her friend to the door. “Only a few days ago, you hated the idea of having her here.”

  King studied Teddi’s slight figure, letting his intent gaze move lazily up to her flushed face and thick, short hair. “That was a few days ago,” he murmured.

  “It’s overwork,” Teddi assured her puzzled friend. “Too many computer breakdowns and skipped meals.” She leaned closer and said in a loud, conspiratorial whisper, “Just ask him about having Herefords produce purebred black Angus cattle.”

  Jenna stared, gaping, at her older brother.

  He tossed his thick, blond hair back with an impatient hand. “Don’t ask,” he warned, “unless you want to spend the next thirty minutes having it explained to you.”

  Jenna chuckled, pushing Teddi out the door. “I think you’d better eat your sandwiches, brother mine, and see if it doesn’t help.” And she closed the door behind her before he had a chance to reply.

  “King, taking you to Banff?” Jenna laughed when they were upstairs. “My gosh, miracles happen every day, don’t they?”

  “You aren’t half as surprised as I was,” Teddi said, pausing at the door to her room. “And I’m still not sure why. Maybe he wants some privacy so he can give me the devil and I won’t have any hope of rescue.”

  “Maybe he’s mellowing,” Jenna suggested.

  “Maybe the chickens will give milk.”

  “Well, he didn’t sound sarcastic or anything.”

  Teddi smiled wistfully. “You didn’t hear him before you came in. He was giving me a scolding about that televised fashion show I was in.”

  “How interesting,” came the amused reply. “Because when we watched it, he sat there staring like a man possessed. He didn’t take his eyes off you, and he didn’t say a word.”

  “He was probably busy trying to think up nasty things to say about it the next time he saw me,” she countered, flushing.

  “That wasn’t how he looked,” Jenna murmured thoughtfully, recalling the strange, intense look in her brother’s eyes at the time.

  “How did he look?”

  Jenna met Teddi’s curious eyes levelly. “He looked like a starving man.”

  Teddi turned away before Jenna could see and question the wild color in her cheeks. “It was televised before dinner, wasn’t it?” she murmured. “Well, good night. See you in the morning.”

  “Inevitably,” came the gleeful reply. “Another fascinating chapter of your ongoing war with King. I wish you two got along better,” she added, suddenly serious. “I can’t understand why he’s so down on you. He isn’t like that about another single person.”

  “Maybe I remind him of a woman he used to hate.”

  Jenna shook her head. “There aren’t that many women in his past. Very few in his present, too.” She grinned. “And no one at all since Easter,” she added. “I wonder why?”

  “Good night!” Teddi said quickly, darting into her room.

  * * *

  She rose after a restless night, her eyes full of dreams and hopes. It was the most exciting morning she could remember, because the day promised a whole afternoon in King’s company.

  Time seemed to fly as they all went to church together, and Teddi stood next to King, listening to his deep, pleasant voice as they sang hymns in the same Presbyterian church where his father and mother had married years before.

  And then, church was over, and Teddi was feeling as if she could conquer the world as she sat beside King in his low-slung black Ferrari on the way to Banff. Her eyes wandered restlessly from the winding road between sky-high pines to the jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains against an azure sky.

  “It’s as big as the whole world,” she murmured, spellbound. “Everything out here seems gigantic, and the air is so clean.”

  King chuckled softly. “Cleaner than most places, thanks to our provincial government. We have stringent basic environmental standards that new developers must meet, to preserve our clean water and skies.”

  “Georgia has a fine environmental protection division, too,” Teddi replied, “and equally stringent air and water conservation requirements. We like to think they’re some of the best in the nation.”

  He glanced at her. “I always associate you with New York,” he murmured dryly, “despite that Southern accent.”

  “Why, because I model?” she asked defensively. “It’s just a job, King.”

  “A job is something one does out of necessity,” he fired back without looking her way. “You model because you like the glamour of it and the excitement.”

  How wrong he was, she thought dejectedly. She modeled because it was the only profession she was suited to that would earn her enough to stay in school. Dilly gave her nothing toward her tuition. But, of course, King didn’t know that, and probably wouldn’t believe her if she told him so.

  “Just don’t forget,” he continued coldly, “that the excitement won’t last forever. Men don’t necessarily marry their pretty playmates, you know.”

  “Now, just hold it a minute,” she flared, turning in the bucket seat to glare at him. “I’m not any man’s playmate, and I won’t be.”

  “Holding out for marriage?” he asked contemptuously. “I suppose you might find a man somewhere who’d marry a girl like you.”

  Her eyes blazed in a face that was flushed with indignation. “It’s very easy to make snap judgments about people,” she reminded him. “You do prize circumstantial evidence, don’t you? Although how you manage to construe modeling as prostitution is something I can’t imagine!”

  “It’s a small world, darling,” he replied, making a mockery of the endearment. “I have an acquaintance who knows a great deal about your night life.”

  “Night life!” she burst out. “My gosh, by the time I get back from a day of assignments in New York, the last thing I want or need is a long social calendar! All I do at night is soak my tired feet and get ready for the next day’s assignments. The only time I go out is on weekends.”

  “Sure,” he replied curtly.

  “And just who is your mysterio
us informant?” she asked pointedly.

  “I’ll introduce you one of these days soon,” he replied mysteriously.

  “I can’t wait,” she returned sarcastically. She turned away, folding her arms across her chest. The blouse she wore was a camisole top that criss-crossed over her small breasts and tied at the side. Its pale blue color contrasted with the white slacks she wore, and emphasized her dark eyes and hair, her exquisite complexion. But King hadn’t even noticed how she was dressed. He’d been too busy digging up insults. And she’d had such hopes of mending the conflict between them today. When he’d asked her, told her, about the trip to Banff, she really thought he had more than insults in mind.

  She stared out the window at the incredible height of the Rockies as they traveled down the valley and across the Canadian Pacific Railway to enter Banff.

  Banff was a shopper’s and diner’s delight, chock-full of international shops, malls and restaurants. And all around were the impossibly high, jagged peaks of the Rocky Mountains, giant stone sentinels casting their majestic shadows on the green, lush valley where the Bow River wound like a crystal ribbon.

  “It’s awesome,” Teddi whispered, her eyes peering up toward the craggy summits that practically surrounded the valley.

  “Yes, it is,” King agreed. “I’ve lived half of my life in the shadow of the Rockies, but they still take my breath away. I can imagine how the old French fur traders felt when they saw them for the first time.”

  She glanced at his profile, the set of his head, the arrogant tilt of it. “One of your ancestors was a fur trader,” she recalled. “So was your mother’s grandfather.”

  “I can see the question coming,” he replied dryly. “No, I don’t look French, do I?”

  She let her attention wander back to the sharp edges of the summits, where the timberline was clearly visible. “I didn’t say anything,” she protested.

  “My maternal grandfather was French, Miss Curiosity,” he told her, “but my paternal grandmother was Dutch. And I don’t have to tell you which characteristics I inherited.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked, watching the small shops and restaurants whiz by as the Ferrari ate up the miles.

  “I thought you might like to see the grand old lady of the mountains,” he said obliquely as they crossed the bridge over the majestic Bow River.

  “The who?” she asked.

  “The Banff Springs Hotel,” he replied. “The original hotel was built in 1888, and much of the credit for it goes to William Van Horne of the Canadian Pacific Railway, who thought that a luxury hotel would increase tourism. The CPR expanded it up until 1910, when they began to rebuild it. Unfortunately a fire destroyed part of the old building, but it was scheduled for demolition anyway, and the new hotel was completed in 1928. I think you’ll find the architecture unique,” he added as the gigantic hotel began to loom up in the distance. He glanced at her intrigued expression. “Three architects produced what you see, and believe me, the interior is just as impressive. No expense was spared on materials or workmanship.”

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” she burst out enthusiastically, fascinated by the towering structure, which reminded her of a castle.

  “You should see it at night,” he replied, “with all the windows blazing with light. It’s quite lovely.” He pulled up in the parking lot and cut the engine. “I can’t imagine why none of us ever thought to bring you here before.”

  “There was never time,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

  “Or we never made time,” he replied, something harsh in his deep voice.

  She let him guide her into the lobby of the majestic hotel, fascinated by the fossilized stone throughout and the bronze doors to the Alhambra Dining Room, where they had coffee and pie. She felt as if her feet were barely touching the ground when they walked back to the car. King had been polite, even courteous, and not a cross word had managed to get between them.

  “Where to now?” she asked as she fastened her seat belt.

  “You tell me,” he corrected. “Would you like to go through some of the shops in town?”

  “It’s Sunday,” she reminded him.

  “And you’ll find a number of them open, just the same,” he promised. “Well?”

  “I’d like that,” she confessed.

  “Typical woman,” he mused, starting the car.

  “I suppose you’d rather be hunting those poor moose and elk?” she teased.

  “In season, yes, ma’am,” he laughed. He glanced at her. “I like to ski, too. Do you?”

  “I’ve never learned.” Her eyes flickered away from his. “Well, Jenna hasn’t, either!”

  “If you spent much time around me, you’d learn plenty about skiing. And other things,” he added, glancing sideways with a look that said more than words.

  She avoided his eyes. “According to you, there isn’t anything left for me to learn.”

  “And maybe I need to find out how much,” he said softly.

  She swallowed down the urge to leap out of the car and make a run for it. “Isn’t the valley beautiful?” she asked politely.

  He chuckled. “Yes, it is. When we’ve looked through Banff, we’ll drive up to Lake Louise.”

  He pulled the car back out into the road, turning off presently to show her the magnificent gondola lift.

  “We won’t stop,” he said, “but it’s open year-round. There’s even a restaurant and gift shop up there.”

  Up there was a long way off, and Teddi had no head for heights. “I don’t think I’d ever make a skier if you have to start up there,” she murmured.

  “You’ll never know until you try,” he chuckled. “But we’ll save that for another time. And there’s always cross-country skiing,” he added as he pulled back out into the main road. “We’ll have to do that one winter.”

  The statement nagged in the back of her mind while King escorted her through one shop after another, showing her Indian handicrafts, Eskimo carvings and art work by native western Canadian artists. The fur shop fascinated her, and so did the trading shop. King bought her a small carved totem that she knew she’d treasure as long as she lived, and two hours had gone by before she realized it.

  They drove up to Lake Louise, traveling parallel to the Bow River on the long highway. Teddi gazed wide-eyed at the mountain scenery, drinking in fleeting glimpses of moose, mountain sheep, and craggy peaks that seemed to touch the clouds. Driving around Lake Louise was fascinating, too, she found.

  “There, see the gondolas?” King nodded toward the lift.

  “I’d rather look at the lake, if you don’t mind,” Teddi laughed, staring raptly out the window at it. “I’ll bet you can hear the fish eating worms if you listen closely.”

  He pulled off the road and cut the engine. “Let’s see,” he told her, throwing his long legs out of the streamlined car.

  She followed him down to the banks of the sky-blue lake and stood listening to the faint sloshing of the water at the shoreline, to the sound of the tall trees brushing each other in the breeze, to the far away baying of a hound.

  She closed her eyes and she could almost see men in buckskins carrying flintlock rifles, on their way to check their trap lines. The air smelled of trees and water and bark and growing things, and her heart swelled.

  “Daydreaming?”

  She smiled as she opened misty eyes. “Sort of,” she confessed.

  “Picturing it as a site for a fashion show?” he chided.

  She drew in a deep, slow breath, bending down to pick a blade of grass and worry it with her long fingers. “Actually, I was thinking about the men who settled this country,” she said, “and the hardships they had to endure. There’s so much history here.”

  “I know. I wasn’t aware that you knew, however.”

  Her dark eyes were accusatory as they met his. “I do occasionally think of things other than expensive clothes and cameras. That part of my life exists only in New York. On campus, I’m a student and a res
taurant employee. Here, I’m just me.”

  “Are you?” He wasn’t wearing his ranch hat, and his thick, blond hair was caught by the wind, falling carelessly onto his broad forehead as he stared down at her.

  She met his piercing gray eyes squarely and felt the breath pour out of her at the impact.

  The old tension was back between them, as suddenly, as unexpectedly, as it had been the night before when Jenna opened the door of King’s den. Her heart fluttered like a wild bird as she stood there, feeling the nearness of his big body with every nerve in her own.

  His eyes dropped to her neckline where the pale blue blouse crossed over her breasts. Because of the thin camisole straps, she hadn’t bothered with a bra, and she could see King’s eyes, intent and curious on the thin fabric.

  “This bloody thing has haunted me all afternoon,” he ground out, moving a step closer, his voice deep and slow. “Are you wearing anything at all under it?”

  “King!” she burst out, breathless.

  “Just like a woman,” he grumbled, reaching out to catch her shoulders and draw her closer, “to wear something that drives a man around the bend and then be shocked when he notices it.”

  “I didn’t...didn’t wear it to drive you around any bends,” she protested.

  “Didn’t you, Teddi bear?” he murmured. One big hand pressed against her back, urging her close, while the other slid deftly, expertly, under one strap of the camisole blouse, making exquisite sensations where it touched the silken flesh of her shoulder, her collarbone.

  “Your skin feels like velvet,” he whispered. His fingers spread out, warm and hard and faintly calloused, lifting so that the blouse and her bare flesh parted company and the breeze touched her like a lover’s hand.

  She gasped, trembling, as his fingers edged nearer to one small, taut breast.

  “Look at me,” he breathed gruffly, his voice so commanding that she instantly obeyed it. “I want to watch you.”

  “King...” she whispered his name, not knowing if it was a protest or a plea.

  “I’ve wanted to touch you like this until I ache with it,” he whispered, letting his eyes drop to the silky blouse, deliberately lifting the edge to reveal the pale, hard-tipped breasts to his fiery eyes.