Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  “Yes,” she whispered when he backed her up against the door and fit his body to hers. “Yes!”

  His rhythmic movements should have shocked her, but they were pure delight. She arched into them, her pride gone with her inhibitions, her arms curved around his neck, her mouth smiling under his as she gasped with pleasure.

  She felt his hands moving on her body, gliding down to her hips, easing up the skirt of her dress. His urgent fingers felt cool on her hot skin, so welcome, so right. She moaned.

  He lifted his head for an instant to breathe, his eyes frightening, his body shuddering. “Crazy child,” he ground out, glaring at her. Then he moved against her, deliberately. “Feel that! Don’t you know what you’re asking for?”

  “Heaven,” she whispered, feeling deprived when he pulled away from her and turned his back.

  “Heaven,” he chided. He lifted his head, gulping in deep breaths, hating his loss of control and almost hating her for causing it. He’d never let a woman affect him so deeply. He fumbled for a cigarette. It was because she was a virgin, of course. She didn’t know what she was doing. She was experimenting, and her innocence caused her to do things that a more experienced woman would know better than to try.

  “Damn you!” he burst out, half laughing, half groaning.

  She was still leaning against the door where he’d left her, breathless but smiling. He was as vulnerable to her as she was to him, she knew now. That was encouraging. Perhaps he did feel drawn to Bess, who was more or less using him to salve her tortured ego, but his emotional involvement with the other woman wasn’t total. It couldn’t be, or he wouldn’t hunger so for Elissa. For perhaps the first time in her life she consciously felt a surge of pride in her own womanhood, in her ability to reach him. Her love life had been strictly fantasy until now, but King made her feel fiercely female and totally unafraid of him or anything he might do.

  “Chicken,” she purred.

  He whirled, his black eyes narrowed in a face that was drawn with pain.

  “What in hell are you trying to do?” he demanded.

  “Lure you into bed with me,” she said softly. “Come on. I dare you,” she taunted with her newfound confidence.

  He just stared at her. He had the cigarette in his lips now, but lighting it was another matter. He couldn’t seem to hold the flame steady, and that brought a string of bitter curses to his lips.

  She only smiled, coaxed the lighter from his lean fingers, flicked on the flame and held it to the cigarette.

  “Proud of yourself?” he asked coldly. He smiled, but not happily.

  “Proud of what I can do to you, yes,” she confessed gently. “You seem so reserved at times, so unapproachable. It’s nice to know you’re human.”

  “You almost found out exactly how human,” he muttered.

  Her eyes searched his, and she sighed softly. “I tingle all over. That was so sweet.”

  “Not for me,” he said through his teeth.

  She watched his face, frowning a little. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” He took a deep draw from the cigarette and turned away, walking down the beach.

  She followed, puzzled. “Can’t you talk about it?”

  He reached out, drawing her gently against his hips. His voice at her temple was slow and thick with discomfort. “I ache for you,” he whispered. “Badly. Have you forgotten what we talked about, how after a certain point it’s difficult to pull back?”

  “I wasn’t going to stop you,” she reminded him.

  “We couldn’t very well make love on the beach in full view of my family!” he burst out. “Where’s your mind tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I ache in places I never knew I had, I’m burning up with desire, and here you are, fully capable of putting out every fire I’ve got, and you’re complaining that you’re in pain.”

  He couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. “Oh, my God,” he moaned.

  She threw up her hands. “I offer you myself, no strings attached, and you walk off in a snit.”

  “Your parents would be ashamed of you,” he pointed out.

  “My parents don’t expect me to be superhuman,” she shot back. “God made bodies, you know, so I guess He expected that people would want to enjoy them occasionally.”

  “Although you’d rather do so with a ring on your finger,” he prodded.

  She shrugged. “Yes. But that doesn’t cool me off any.”

  “Cool, the devil.” He flung the cigarette away and lifted her suddenly, carrying her into the surf. “I’ll cool you off.”

  He dumped her into the next wave. She spluttered and struggled to her feet, her dress plastered to her body, her hair in strings down her back.

  “Wild animal!” she raged.

  “Sexy baggage,” he returned. “Want to hit me? Come on. Try it.”

  She took a swing at him. He sidestepped, and she went down again, and before she could get up he was in the water beside her, holding her down.

  There was a look in his eyes that she’d never seen, and the sheer strength of his hands excited her. “You can’t very well wear it like that, can you?” He laughed softly as he felt her bedraggled dress. “Let me help you out of it.”

  “You can’t! Not here!” she gasped, looking around wildly.

  “Yes I can,” he shot back, and he began unfastening the soaking dress.

  The surf crashed around them while he undressed her, and she reveled in the contrast between the cool water and her heated flesh, in the lazy contact of his hands, in the look on his dark face as he uncovered and savored every soft inch of her, his eyes lingering on her full breasts.

  “God, what a beauty you are,” he whispered. “I ought to strangle you for doing this to me.”

  “I’d like to point out that you’re undressing me, not vice versa,” she choked.

  “You’ve seen me without my clothes,” he said softly, searching her eyes.

  “Yes.” Her lips parted as she looked at him. “I wish we were alone. Totally alone.”

  “Stop tempting me,” he whispered. After a minute, he reluctantly fastened the dress again and, with a heavy sigh, picked her up. His arms were strong and comforting against the night breezes. She snuggled closer, feeling unutterably cared for, and he bent to kiss her gently as he carried her up the beach. “You need to change and get some sleep. And in case you want to know, I’m leaving you at the door.”

  “Why?” she moaned against his lips.

  “Sex makes babies,” he whispered back. “I don’t have anything to protect you.”

  She moaned again. “I don’t care,” she wailed.

  “You would in the morning.” He carried her to the door and set her slowly on her feet, taking a minute to run his hands over her and make her tremble with wanting.

  “Sexy,” he murmured. “Sexy and sweet, and I want to bury myself in you. Now you’d better get inside and try to sleep.”

  “Don’t go,” she whispered. “You’re soaking wet, too.”

  “I can’t very well walk home without my clothes.” He chuckled. “Go to bed.”

  She shivered. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “My house key is in my pocketbook. Inside,” she added with a faint flush. “Well, I forgot when I locked the door …”

  He looked heavenward. “Women!” He searched until he found the spare key she hid under the hibiscus bush. “Here. I remembered, even if you didn’t.”

  She looked up at him, her heart shaking her. He was so much man. So big and capable and strong, and just for once she liked being dependent, letting him take care of her. She thought about how it would be, having him beside her in the darkness, holding him through the night. Just holding him would be enough, she realized suddenly. What she felt was overpowering but not entirely physical. It was so tender, so sweet and new. If only he could feel it for her.

  He unlocked the door and opened it, glancing down at her expression curiously. “What
’s wrong?” he asked, pressing the key into her palm.

  “Nothing, really.”

  He reached in and switched on the light, then looked at her, drinking in the contours of her body now clearly visible through the dress plastered wetly to her skin. He shook his head. “You’ll be the death of me one day. I’ll have a heart attack trying to be noble.”

  “I won’t take the blame,” she said pertly.

  “I won’t take you,” he whispered, bending to brush a chaste kiss on her forehead. “Now go to bed, siren. We’ve got an early flight.”

  “All right.”

  He handed her a shawl from the hat rack, watching her wrap herself in it. “Why do you want me all of a sudden?” he asked gently. “You’ve spent two years keeping me at arm’s length. What’s changed?”

  “I never knew how devastating it could be,” she said shyly.

  “It shocks me a little, too,” he said honestly. “You’re not exactly my usual kind of woman.”

  “Maybe that’s why you want me,” she essayed.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. All I know is that for the past twenty-four hours, you’re all I’ve thought about. But I can’t afford to lose my head. Your conscience would torment you to death.”

  “But I don’t want to lose you. You’re my friend.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears at the thought.

  “Don’t cry,” he ground out. “I can’t stand it.”

  She lifted her face. “Sorry. I was looking ahead. One of us will eventually marry, I guess,” she added, thinking that it would probably be King. “And that will be the end of us, anyway.”

  He studied her, scowling. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might ever have to lose her. But she was right: she would probably marry eventually, and her husband might not take kindly to their unusual friendship. There would be no more long walks along a Jamaican beach, no more phone calls at two in the morning just because he needed someone to talk to, no more laughing Elissa leaving him notes under rocks….

  “I’ll miss having you to talk to,” she confessed softly.

  He shifted restlessly. “I was thinking the same thing,” he said quietly. “I’m alone except for you.” Before she could reply, he turned and opened the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He closed it and left her standing there.

  Alone, in the harsh light of reality, she was astounded at her behavior. Letting fantasies take over, she had offered to … Her face flamed, and she caught her breath. She’d acted like a total wanton with King.

  She got out of her wet things, put on a caftan and dried her hair, troubled by the direction her life was taking. If she truly became King’s lover, would she be discarded when he tired of her? She loved him, but she knew he merely wanted her. She had to get her perspective back, and she couldn’t do that around King. All in all, it was best that she was going home.

  Unbidden, the memory of what King had said before leaving came back to her: “I’m alone except for you.” What had he meant by the statement?

  She was still puzzling over it when she went to bed.

  Chapter Six

  Riding to the airport was an ordeal. Although Elissa sat in the front seat with King, his eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror. He talked to Bobby, but it was Bess he was exchanging eloquent looks with.

  The one thing it did accomplish was to make Elissa see clearly what a fool she’d been to daydream over his exquisite lovemaking. He’d only been toying with her; there hadn’t been anything serious about it on his part. Probably he’d made love to dozens of women without feeling the need to commit himself. Men weren’t like women, she told herself; they didn’t need emotional involvement to find fulfillment. But it saddened her all the same. She’d just begun to realize how much she cared about him, how much a part of her life he’d become. She’d looked forward to coming to Jamaica, not because of the island itself but because of the man who lived next door. And she felt possessive about him.

  That possessiveness had reared its ugly head the instant she saw Bess. It hadn’t taken much effort to realize how appealing King’s sister-in-law must be to him. She wasn’t a shallow flirt just out for a good time. She was beautiful and vulnerable and unhappy, tied to a man she cared about who never paid her any attention. How terrible that must feel, and how much King must want to comfort and protect her. But how terrible, too, for King to be torn between his feelings for Bess and for Bobby and his sense of what was right. What a mess.

  And what a pity, Elissa thought, that she herself couldn’t be one of those superficial people who enjoyed life without really considering consequences. But she knew herself too well to think she could survive a casual affair with King. Her principles were too firmly embedded in her personality, and despite her abandon when she was with him, he was right that her conscience would kill her if she fell into his bed. Besides, she thought miserably, would he still feel the same about her once he’d been intimate with her? She didn’t think she could stand to have him and then lose him.

  And what about Bess? Did she really want King, or was she attracted to him because he was safely unattainable and no real threat to her marriage? Elissa sighed, staring at the passing sea-grape trees and tall casuarina pines that partially veiled the blinding white beach and the incredible blues and greens of the Caribbean. What a ridiculous question. Her eyes turned to King, adoring his profile. He was handsome and rich, and what he didn’t know about women wasn’t worth knowing. Who wouldn’t want him for keeps? She looked away quickly and closed her eyes on a wave of pain. If he and Bess wound up together, they would undoubtedly marry and have children. How that thought hurt!

  Time crawled while they got through the long line of customs and immigration before boarding the plane. Bess eased into the seat next to King’s on the enormous jumbo jet, and Elissa, on his other side, couldn’t help but notice the way Bess clutched his hand as the plane prepared for takeoff.

  “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 looke
d 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.”