Desert Rogues Part 2

by Susan Mallery

  “I do not understand,” he told her. “You are the same woman who can fly a fighter jet better than anyone I know.”

  The doors opened and they stepped out.

  “Yup. That’s me.”

  “Yet you put on a movie for your dog?”

  “I don’t really see how the two concepts relate.”

  “Nor do I. This way.”

  He escorted her down a long corridor. Soft lighting spilled from the dozens of rooms they passed. Talk about a lot of space. Taking a lap around each floor would pretty much take care of anyone’s aerobic needs for the day.

  “I heard your brother could not join us tonight,” Jefri said.

  “The rest of the equipment arrived and he wanted to oversee that. If you ask me, he was in a snit about having to get dressed up for dinner. His loss. I’m sure the food will be amazing.”

  “I hope you find that everything pleases you.”

  His low voice scraped along her bare skin like a length of nubby fabric. Billie felt strange, sort of trembling and overheated and spacey. She had to get a grip. In the heels she wore, one wrong step could be fatal.

  They turned left at a large pillar and entered what she supposed for them was a small, casual dining room. For her it was like being asked to eat in the roped-off parts of the British Museum.

  A long table stood in the center of the room. From the number of chairs pushed up against the walls, she supposed it could be expanded to seat at least thirty, maybe more. Two antique hutches stood flanking a large tapestry depicting a young woman in an open kind of boat. Based on her dress, Billie would guess the scene was from the mid-sixteen hundreds.

  Three chandeliers provided light over the table, but instead of using bulbs they twinkled with candlelight. Several sconces lined the walls, also providing illumination. A long buffet held a bucket of champagne on ice and unopened bottles of red and white wine, along with an assortment of liquors. Two men with trays of canapés hovered by the doorway, and there wasn’t a cat in sight.

  “This works,” Billie said as she and Jefri strolled the length of the room.

  “I’m glad you like it. Champagne?”

  “Sure. I’m not flying until late tomorrow morning.”

  Jefri popped the bottle with an ease that made her feel like an extra in an old Audrey Hepburn movie, then accepted the delicate crystal glass.

  “To new adventures,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “And those we share them with.”

  She figured this wasn’t the time for her usual “Bottoms up” so she smiled before taking a sip. The liquid bubbles tickled the whole way down her throat. Oh, yeah. This was the good life for sure.

  A tall man Billie hadn’t met entered the dining room. Based on his good looks and regal bearing she was going to take a wild guess and say he was another royal prince.

  Bingo, she thought, when Jefri introduced him as “My oldest brother, Crown Prince Murat.”

  She had her purse in one hand and her champagne in the other. For one horrible second, Billie thought maybe she was expected to curtsey. Why hadn’t she asked Jefri on the walk over? Before she could figure out what to do, Murat leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek.

  “Welcome, Ms. Van Horn. My brother complained of your great skill in the sky but he said nothing of your exceptional beauty.”

  She would have thought that older handsome prince set to inherit the kingdom would have had some effect on her when he’d kissed her. She’d braced herself for at least a toe curl, but there hadn’t been even a flicker. Interesting. So her reaction was specifically to Jefri and not just to the whole good-looking-guy-in-the-palace thing. She would have to take that information out later and figure out what it meant.

  “Most men don’t enjoy being shot down by a woman,” she said with a smile. “It’s an ego thing. I don’t take it personally.”

  “Billie is convinced I will not ever best her. I am going to have to prove her wrong.”

  Murat glanced between the two of them. “She does not look concerned, my brother. Perhaps you will have to content yourself with besting her in other ways.”

  The king entered the room, along with an obviously pregnant woman and what Billie took to be yet another of the handsome prince crop.

  Jefri leaned close. “Perhaps my brother is right and I should seek other kinds of victories.”

  The combination of his words and his warm breath on her neck made her quiver.

  “Come, you must meet our newest treasure,” the king said, leading the couple toward them. “Billie, my son Reyhan and his beautiful wife Emma.”

  Billie had the whole purse/champagne thing under control this time. She’d tucked her bag under her arm so she was able to hold out her right hand to both of them.

  “Welcome,” Reyhan said pleasantly.

  “Are you really a fighter pilot?” Emma asked.

  “She is brilliant in the sky,” Jefri said, answering for her.

  “Amazing.” Emma smiled. “I thought you would be more…masculine. But you’re lovely enough to be a pop star or an actress.”

  Billie beamed. “Aren’t you sweet. I’m just a girl who likes to dress up. I tried being one of the boys for a long time and it never worked.”

  “One cannot imagine why,” Jefri murmured in her ear.

  Murat returned with a scotch for his brother and a glass of what looked like sparkling water for Emma.

  “What do you think of Billie?” he asked. “Is she not most intriguing?”

  Jefri stepped between her and Murat. “She is my guest.”

  Billie felt a slight thrill. Was Jefri being possessive? Did he actually see her as something other than a means to fly better?

  Another couple arrived—one of the princes accompanied by a petite, curvy blonde who squealed when she saw Billie.

  “You’re American. Yeah. We can hang out and talk while you’re here. I’m Cleo. Hi. Do you realize that out of all four of the women who are in this family, I’m the only one who lives in the palace?” She poked Emma’s arm. “You’re constantly gone, as are Zara and Sabrina. It’s really annoying.”

  Cleo’s escort, Prince Sadik, sighed. “You have confused our guest and possibly frightened her.”

  “Are you frightened?” Cleo asked.

  Billie laughed. “No, just confused. What women? Who are Zara and Sabrina?”

  “Perhaps we should adjourn to the table where we can all straighten this out,” the king said. “Billie, you may sit next to me.”

  So she found herself next to the king of Bahania, surrounded by honest to goodness princes and princesses. Billie had the fleeting thought that she wished her mother was still alive to take part in all this.

  “All right, let me see if I have this right,” she said over the soup course. “Sabrina and Zara are princesses by birth.”

  The king nodded.

  “But Zara didn’t know she was your daughter until about a year ago. And Cleo and Emma are Americans married to your sons.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Very complicated,” she said as she discreetly moved the sliver of prosciutto she’d slipped off her appetizer plate into the Baggie.

  “You will learn who belongs with whom,” the king said kindly. “Simply remember my sons favor American women.”

  “Interesting point.”

  She couldn’t help glancing across the table to where Jefri sat. Did he favor American women as well? He seemed to be watching her, and while she wanted to believe it meant something, she’d been burned enough times to hold back. Ever since turning sixteen and having her first crush, she’d found herself interested in men who wanted nothing to do with her. It was like a curse.

  “I have met one of your brothers,” the king said. “How many are there?”

  “Three. I’m the only girl and the youngest.”

  “Sabrina could relate to that,” Cleo said. “Her brothers made her life miserable. What about yours?”

  “My mother always said they we
re a handful. She did her best to keep them in line.”

  “What does she think of your occupation?” Jefri asked.

  “She died when I was eleven. I’m not sure she would have been thrilled with my hanging out with my brothers all the time, but she would have wanted me to be happy.”

  “Did your father remarry?” the king asked.

  Billie shook her head. “We traveled a lot with the company. My mother had kept me home with her, but after she was gone, I went around the world, as well. It made for a very eclectic education.” And nowhere to call home. But Billie had always known she would have to choose between her love of the sky and putting down roots.

  Emma leaned toward her. “I would have thought someone raised by her father would have been more of a tomboy.”

  Billie laughed. “I tried being one for a while, but then I realized I made a lousy son, so I gave it up and surrendered to my inner girl.”

  “Hence the call sign?” Jefri asked.

  She nodded.

  He raised his glass. “To always surrendering to your inner girl.”

  If asked, Billie would have expected to explain that the royal family was stuffy and well, boring. But that wasn’t true at all. After grilling her about her life—in the most pleasant way possible—they’d laughed and talked and teased just like any other family she’d met. Okay, the flatware had been gold, but the rest of the meal had been surprisingly normal.

  Whether it was the combination of too much champagne, the strange quarters or an evening spent getting lost in Jefri’s dark gaze, Billie found herself unable to sleep. Giving up, she left Muffin snoring softly and pulled on her robe, then walked into the living room where she opened the French door leading to the balcony and stepped out into the quiet of the night.

  A moon hung low in the sky and sent fingers of light across the lapping sea. There were scents in the air, smells she didn’t recognize but knew would forever remind her of Bahania. The air was still, faintly cool, but still pleasant.

  “The good life,” she said with a smile. “I doubt anything is ever going to top this.”

  She leaned on the balcony and stared down at the dark gardens. Slim shadows darted in and out of bushes. Cats, she thought grimly. No doubt out to kill. Why on earth would anyone think creatures like that were pet-worthy?

  “What has you so concerned?” Jefri said as he came out of the darkness and moved next to her at the railing. “You are frowning.”

  His unexpected appearance startled her, although not enough to make her duck back inside. She had a brief thought that she was in her nightgown, but then reminded herself that she’d been a lot more uncovered in her evening gown.

  “There,” she said pointing toward the garden. “Cats.”

  He chuckled. “I will protect you from any who attempt to attack you.” He glanced around. “Where is Muffin?”

  “Sleeping. She needs her beauty sleep.”

  “Tell me she does not have one of those black sleep masks.”

  Billie laughed. “She doesn’t.”

  “Good.”

  He leaned against the railing, his shoulder close to her own.

  “Did you enjoy your evening with us?” he asked.

  “Very much so.” She glanced at him, taking in the dark slacks and the formal white shirt he’d unbuttoned. The tie was gone, as was the jacket, and he’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.

  “I’ve never dined with royalty before,” she said. “I thought I’d be more nervous but everyone made me feel very comfortable.”

  “I was concerned you thought there were too many questions.”

  “Not at all. I thought everyone was interested and genuine rather than grilling me.”

  “We are like other families?”

  “Except for the prince thing.”

  “So you were impressed.”

  She smiled. “Not exactly.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Why not?”

  “Come on. How impressed could I be by wealth and a title when we both know I could blow you out of the sky in thirty-eight seconds?”

  “Good point. However, I could impress you in other ways.”

  Oh, yeah, that was a serious possibility.

  “I’m just the hired help,” she said instead, and did her best to act casually. “In a few months, I’ll be gone and you’ll rule your own skies.”

  “Do you like that aspect of your job? Going from place to place?”

  “Sometimes.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I enjoy seeing the world, but sometimes I wouldn’t mind having a permanent base of operations. The problem with that is I’ve yet to find a way to combine home and hearth with what I love to do.”

  “The flying.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did you learn to fly?” he asked.

  “My dad had always taken me up with him. I was handling single engine planes by the time I was ten. My mom tried to hold me back, which worked until she died. Then there was no one telling my dad no. I worked my way up to jets pretty quickly.” She turned her head and smiled at him. “Having a mini air force in the family helped. What about you?”

  “I have always loved flying. My father indulged me with lessons when I was twelve. I’m sure he thought it was something I would outgrow.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “You’re right. The more I flew, the more I loved it. I wanted to join an air force, but we did not have one here in Bahania and no other country would allow me to train. They did not want the responsibility of a king’s son.”

  “Huh. I never thought there would be discrimination against royalty.”

  “You would be surprised.”

  “Maybe, but don’t expect any sympathy.”

  “I am not.” He turned so he faced her. “Your life has not been traditional.”

  “I know. I’m glad for what I’ve experienced, but it hasn’t come free. I’m going to be thirty in a few years. I’d like to get married and start on the whole baby thing, but I don’t actually meet the kind of guys who would be interested in me.”

  He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s the whole blow up in the sky thing. Most men don’t like it and compensate one of two ways. They get way too aggressive with me on the ground, or they ignore me. No one is ever just a guy.”

  Although Jefri was making a good showing, she thought. If only he wasn’t a real prince.

  “You are not making any sense,” he told her.

  “Sense or not, what’s what is. The men I work with don’t see me as an available female.”

  “Perhaps they are not willing to take on your brothers.”

  Billie stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Your brothers. Doyle warned me away from you this afternoon. After our flight.”

  She heard the words, but she couldn’t believe them. “He what?”

  “The message was extremely clear.”

  “I…He…” She pressed her lips together and reached for a rational, coherent thought. “That lying, cheating, scummy pinhead,” she muttered.

  Was it possible? Were her brothers the reason no one ever asked her out?

  She thought about how possessive they were of her. Of the things they said and how they worried about her.

  “This is so like them,” she said, feeling her temper rise. She couldn’t believe it. She’d been date-free for years. How many guys had wanted to take her out only to be headed off by one of her brothers?

  “I’m going to make them pay.”

  “I would request that you not make them suffer too much.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they have kept other men away from you.”

  “Oh, right and that’s a good thing, how?”

  “You are still available to me.”

  Billie barely had time to process the sentence, which was probably for the best because the most eloquent thing she would have come up with was “Huh?” As Jefri spoke, he drew her into his arms and presse
d his mouth to hers, so whatever else she was going to say faded into a soft, soul-stealing kiss.

  He claimed her with a combination of passion and tenderness. Firm lips moved against her own, discovering, heating, delighting. Her temper faded as if it had never been, while liquid desire took its place.

  She sighed and melted against him, letting her body lean against his and her arms rest on his strong shoulders. He smelled of cognac and night and mystery. He drew her closer still until they touched as intimately as their mouths. One of his hands tangled in her long hair while the other roamed over her back.

  Instinctively she tilted her head, to make the kissing easier. He responded by brushing his tongue against her lower lip. Anticipation raced through her and she parted for him. But instead of deepening the kiss, he moved away. He kissed her cheek, then along her jaw. When he reached the sensitive skin below her ear, he licked that spot and made her shiver. He took her earlobe in his mouth and gently grated his teeth.

  Fire raced through her. Her breasts swelled as her nipples puckered into tight sensitive points of need. She felt overdressed and jumpy, as if her skin was suddenly too tight. Heat settled between her legs. She wanted to rub against him, she wanted to touch and be touched, she wanted to beg.

  He returned his mouth to hers. Again she parted for him, but he kept the kiss chaste, barely touching, moving back and forth. Need filled her, unfamiliar yet welcome. The wanting grew.

  At last, when she thought she was going to have to scream or maybe throw herself off the balcony, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and circled it against hers.

  Yes, she thought, giving in to the exquisite sensations that filled her. Arousal shook her, making her need so much more than this kiss. Yet she didn’t want the kiss to end. She wanted him dancing with her like this for always.

  But it was not to be. Eventually he drew back and she knew it was important to act with dignity and not whimper. In the faint light from her room, his eyes glowed with a need that both thrilled and frightened her.

  “You are a woman of many surprises,” he said as he stroked her cheek.

  “The same could be said of you. Not the woman part,” she added, feeling more than a little foolish. “You’re a man of surprises.”