The Desert Rogues Part 1

by Susan Mallery

  “Because I like what I do.”

  Rafe picked up his snifter and swirled the cognac. He’d come a long way from his days at the orphanage, he thought. A long way from the scared kid who’d felt so damned alone.

  “Do you have any family?” Zara asked.

  “No. My folks died when I was four. There wasn’t anyone else. I became a ward of the state.”

  He didn’t like to think about his past. He was different now, stronger. He’d learned to take care of himself and never need anyone.

  “Why haven’t you ever married? There had to have been women in your past.”

  “Plenty, but I’m not the kind of man who wants roots.”

  She shook her head. “Everyone wants to belong.”

  “I don’t need anyone else.”

  “It’s a good line, but I don’t believe you.”

  She smiled as she spoke. A pretty smile that made him think about kissing her. Tonight she wore a simple, loose fitting, sleeveless dress. The soft fabric moved with her, both emphasizing and concealing her curves. Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and when she absently pushed them into place, he found himself wanting to remove them and touch her face. He wanted to be close to her, stroke her, hold her. Not just for sex, but for something more.

  He reminded himself that getting involved was dangerous. He needed to be free to move on when the time came. However, at that moment he couldn’t think of a single place he wanted to go.

  “You were never adopted?” she asked.

  He stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “I was too old and not cute enough.”

  “I don’t believe that. I’ll bet you were an adorable kid.”

  He’d been quiet and withdrawn. One family had shown interest when he’d been eight. He’d gone home with them for a long weekend. Determined to do everything right, he’d become so terrified of doing anything wrong that he’d frozen up. At the end of the three days, they’d returned him and he’d never seen them again. After that he’d stopped dreaming about things like family and belonging.

  “Don’t try to make me what I’m not,” he told her. “Wishing isn’t going to make me different. I’m a coldhearted bastard who has no interest in anything like home and hearth. My home is wherever I sleep that night. I don’t need more.”

  “I don’t believe you and I don’t think you believe yourself. You’ve found it easier to go your own way, but in your heart you want what everyone wants. The need to belong is universal.”

  She was wrong, but he didn’t have the words to convince her. “Don’t make me into a hero, Zara. I like you, and I want you, but I’ll never be the man who can make you happy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Several days later the door to Zara’s suite burst open, and King Hassan walked in trailed by a secretary, a bodyguard and two of the princes.

  Zara looked up from the book she was reading and felt a sudden sense of dread. The king’s happy expression, the welcoming light in his eyes and the way he pulled her to her feet, then hugged her close told her all she wanted to know.

  “It is done,” he announced.

  She swallowed against a sudden attack of nerves that sent her stomach through a cheerleading routine.

  “The blood test results?” she asked in a small voice, even though she already knew.

  Hassan released her, beamed, then pulled her close again. “Yes. They have confirmed what you and I have known all along. You are the daughter of my beloved Fiona and my daughter, as well. The joy of my life.” He put his arm around her and faced his entourage. “She is the Princess Zara, named for my mother and beloved to me. Let the word be spread.”

  Zara felt the floor move beneath her feet. It took her a second to realize that the building wasn’t swaying; instead she was having trouble catching her breath and staying upright. Was it her imagination or had the light in the room just dimmed?

  Princess Zara? Oh, sure, she’d realized that if she was really the daughter of a king then she was likely to be a princess. She’d turned the concept over in her mind but had never been able to make it real. Nor had she actually thought of herself as “Princess Zara.” Did she really have a title?

  Instinctively she glanced around at the people in her suite and was relieved when she saw that Rafe had slipped in…probably to see what was going on. She looked at him and took comfort from his wink. He was the only one who could make her feel safe. She couldn’t help wishing his arm was around her instead of the king’s.

  “There is much to be done,” the king said.

  “A press conference,” one of the princes said. Zara told herself that she was really going to have to learn to tell them apart. If only they weren’t all so tall, dark-haired and amazingly handsome.

  A third prince entered her room. She recognized Prince Sadik. He walked up and took her hand in his.

  “Welcome, my sister,” he said. “Do not be too afraid. We will not torment you as we did Sabrina, when she was young.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  The king motioned his assistant to step forward. “We will arrange for a press conference,” Hassan said. “The world must know of our joy.”

  Zara didn’t think the princes looked especially joyful. None of this was a surprise to them and they’d all been very kind. She suspected her status as a woman made her practically invisible to them, which was far better than having them outwardly hostile. She wondered how Sabrina would take the news. Although she and her half sister had discussed starting over, they hadn’t spent very much time together.

  Hassan was still talking about different arrangements. He smiled at her. “You will need a wardrobe fit for a princess. And lands, I think.”

  Lands? She blinked. “That’s not necessary.”

  Hassan dismissed her with a flick of his wrist. “Yes, lands. Perhaps with oil. Would you like that?” He continued without waiting for her to reply. “There are some lovely jewels that belonged to my mother. As you are named for her, they must be yours.”

  She slipped free of his embrace. “Your Highness—”

  “I would prefer you call me Father,” he said, his eyes misting over. “Perhaps not yet, as we are still getting to know each other. But in time. Yes?”

  “I—” She swallowed. King Hassan was her father. As in that they shared blood and a gene pool. She had a father.

  Her mind spun with the information. It shouldn’t be a shock, but it was because now it was real. The room seemed to shift again. Fortunately no one noticed.

  “You don’t have to give me anything. That’s not why I came looking for you.”

  “I know, my child.” He cupped her chin. “But it makes me happy, so you must indulge an old man’s simple requests. You are my daughter, and a member of the royal family. Anything less would be an insult to you, to me and to our people.”

  Her stomach took an elevator ride for her toes. They had people? She was considered…were there people who—Dear God, what was happening?

  The next few minutes passed in a blur. More staff members arrived. Phone calls were made, refreshments brought in, questions were asked and answered. The princes all slipped out, but Rafe remained in the background. Zara tried to keep track of everything. She was scheduled for a full wardrobe fitting and a makeover. Hassan called Sabrina to find out the name of her stylist. The wording of the press release was finalized, and all the while Zara had the sense of being trapped in an alternate universe.

  Eventually the work was finished. Hassan hugged her one last time before leaving, taking all his people with him. Zara remained seated, too stunned to stand, barely able to breathe. Rafe joined her on the sofa.

  “You don’t look so great,” he told her.

  “That matches how I feel.” She stared at him. “It’s going to be much more than I’ve imagined, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “The circus begins.”

  The first flicker of fear snaked along her spine. “How bad?”

  “I don’t know. Just do me one fa
vor. Don’t get difficult about having me around. Before I was your bodyguard on the whim of the king. It was a precaution but not necessary. Now I’m going to earn my paycheck.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that, but it was too late to change anything now.

  Zara tried to blink normally as the hairdresser snipped wildly around her head. Pieces of dark hair went flying and the low-grade panic she’d been fighting for the past two days increased about 15 percent.

  “You look like you’re going to bolt,” Sabrina said from the salon chair next to Zara’s. She took a sip of water from the crystal glass the receptionist had carried over on a tray. “Relax.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Zara muttered.

  She found herself blinking frantically again and had to remind herself that eventually she would get used to the sensation of something being in her eye.

  “Beauty is pain,” Fiona had always told her.

  That went double for contact lenses, Zara thought, trying to find the humor in the situation. If only her world would slow down long enough for her to catch her breath. In less than forty-eight hours everything had changed.

  Two days ago Sabrina had arrived in her rooms shortly after the king had left. Armed with a secretary and a massive list, they’d gone to work, organizing the first few days of Zara’s life as a princess. Their first stop that morning had been at the eye doctor, where Zara had been fitted with soft contact lenses. From there they’d hit several boutiques. She couldn’t remember what she’d bought and what had been discarded. Sabrina had done most of the choosing. There had been ball gowns and day clothes and suits and dresses and shoes and handbags.

  Zara fingered the fabric of the linen slacks she’d worn out of the last shop. Sabrina had paired them with a turquoise silk shirt and simple loafers. All very upscale and very expensive. She didn’t want to think about how much all this was costing. In theory, as the daughter of a king, price shouldn’t matter. But she was still Fiona’s daughter, as well, and from her mother she’d learned how to stretch a dollar until it whimpered for mercy.

  “You can’t avoid the press conference,” Sabrina said, pulling out the notebook that had accompanied them everywhere. Hassan had already made a formal announcement, and the press were clamoring to meet the new princess. “However, we can limit participation and the number of questions. We’ll schedule a few magazine interviews, as well. Maybe one or two weeklies and several monthlies. That should satisfy the public’s need to know, at least for a while.”

  More hair tumbled to the floor. Zara was about to give in to her panic and run when the stylist put down the scissors and reached for the blow dryer.

  It was impossible to talk over the hum of the dryer, so while Sabrina made notes, Zara glanced around at the shop. The large open area was decorated in black and red, with white accents. She didn’t doubt her cut and style would cost more than she’d spent on food the previous month. After her hair was done, she was to get a makeup lesson and whatever new products she might need. Then she could crawl back to the palace until the press conference the next morning.

  As warm air blew over her head, she thought about Cleo. Her sister would have loved the attention and made the situation a whole lot more bearable. But Cleo was back in Spokane, and the couple of times Zara had called to talk to her, Cleo had been distracted.

  Three hours later she and Sabrina ate small sandwiches and tea cakes in Zara’s palace suite. Dozens of bags and boxes filled the rooms. Stacks of cosmetics and hair products filled her bathroom. Zara figured it would take her half the night to get everything put away.

  “The thing is,” Sabrina was saying, “you’re the princess. You can’t forget that. You might have been raised in a relatively normal family, but everything is different. Wherever you go, you represent Bahania. An insult or slight to you reflects on the people.”

  “I haven’t gotten used to having people,” Zara said wryly. “I’m not sure they’re going to be real keen on me, either.”

  “They’ll adore you,” Sabrina assured her. “Just be yourself.”

  Zara didn’t think the people wanted to hear about her rising panic or her urge to throw up.

  “You’ll need a social secretary,” Sabrina said. “I thought I would loan you mine for a few months, just until you learn the ropes. Then you can hire your own. Depending on how much traveling you’re going to be doing, you might also want to think about an assistant. Someone to help with the details of getting your luggage to where it needs to go, packing, unpacking.”

  Zara clutched her cup of tea. Sabrina was acting like her staying here was a sure thing. What about her teaching job back in Washington? She’d worked hard to get her doctorate. Was she just going to give it all up?

  Her head began to pound. Zara set her cup on the saucer and rubbed her temples. “I think I’d rather just be the quiet daughter no one knows anything about.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Sabrina said kindly. “My father has told the world about you.”

  Zara nodded. She’d seen the press conference on television. At her request she hadn’t been there. Her trial would come in the morning. Sabrina had already helped her pick out a dress and accessories. The king was sending over a string of pearls with matching earrings that had belonged to his mother.

  Sabrina glanced at her watch and groaned. “I’m late. Kardal is going to kill me.”

  “I doubt that,” Zara told her, rising to her feet. “He adores you.”

  Sabrina smiled happily. “The feeling is mutual. Are you going to be all right? I’d stay with you this evening, but Kardal committed us to this dinner, and I can’t get out of it.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to try. You’ve been so kind already. Go have fun with your husband.”

  Sabrina rose, waved and hurried out of the room. Zara sank back onto the sofa and stifled the urge to rub her eyes. Until she removed her contacts, she wasn’t allowed to touch them. The last thing she wanted was her new contacts getting lost.

  Someone knocked at her door. Zara straightened as her heart began to beat faster. Her first thought was that it was Rafe. As Sabrina’s bodyguard had done the shopping—makeover-thing with them, she hadn’t seen Rafe all day. She rose quickly and smoothed the front of her slacks. Would he notice the change? She sighed as soon as she thought the question. Of course he would notice—the more important query was would he care?

  She opened the door and nearly melted in a puddle on the floor. Rafe stood in the hallway, dressed in a suit and looking good enough to be dessert. No matter how many times she reminded herself that they couldn’t possibly have a future and that he’d made his reluctance to get involved incredibly clear, she couldn’t help wanting him in her life.

  “Hey, Zara, I—”

  He broke off in midsentence to stare at her. She self-consciously stepped back. Rafe followed her, then motioned for her to turn around. She spun slowly. As she moved she reached up and fingered her hair. The stylist had cut off about four inches, which had released more waves. Layering and thinning allowed her shorter hair to fall just below her shoulders. He’d blown it out in a soft, sleek style that made her feel glamorous. More intense makeup than she usually wore emphasized her eyes, which were more clearly visible without her glasses.

  Between the new hair and makeup and the new clothes, she felt almost pretty. But it was the approval she saw in Rafe’s eyes that convinced her she just might be attractive for the first time in her life.

  He gave a soft whistle. “Impressive,” he said. “You were something before, but now you’re serious princess material.” He held up his hands. “Now, the last time a man tried to pay you a compliment, you went ballistic. Are you going to take a swing at me?”

  She laughed, remembering her temper over Byron’s insincere praise. “No. I know you mean it.”

  “I do.”

  He took a step toward her. The pleasure in his eyes turned to fire. Zara’s breath caught in anticipation. Rafe might promise that not
hing was going to happen between them, but she knew he wanted her. His desire—so thrilling coming from a man like him—made her weak with her own need. She longed to be in his arms, kissing him, touching him and having him make love with her. If that wasn’t possible, she simply wanted to spend time with him. He was still her favorite person in Bahania.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Everything is so strange. I feel as if I’m caught in the middle of a tornado.”

  “It’ll get worse before it gets better, but hold on to the thought that it will get better.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Hey, don’t I know everything?”

  She laughed. “Sometimes it seems that way.”

  “What’s going on tonight?” he asked. “I passed Sabrina in the hall, and she said she’d released you for the day.”

  “I’m just staying in. I have a bunch of stuff to read over before the press conference in the morning.”

  Rafe nodded. “Want a little company before you get to work? We could order dinner in.”

  She thought about spending a couple of quiet, uninterrupted hours with Rafe. Although her pulse rate increased, the rest of her relaxed. He was exactly what she needed.

  “I’d like that,” she whispered.

  “Whatever Princess Zara wishes,” he said formally, then gave a slight bow. “Mine is to serve.”

  If only that were true, she thought longingly. If only she could convince him that he was wrong to walk away from relationships. But while the rest of the world might start to see her as Princess Zara of Bahania, she knew that on the inside, she was still Zara Paxton, virgin and unsuccessful graduate in the school of love. Men like Rafe were out of her league. Still, just for tonight, she could dream.

  Dozens of flash bulbs exploded in her face. Zara tried not to wince as temporary blindness set in.

  “Princess Zara, how do you like Bahania?”

  “Princess Zara, has the king given you a fortune?”