by The Sheikh
“The cats here are well fed.”
“They’d better be.”
Temper flashed in her eyes. Jefri wondered how they’d shifted topics so completely. Given his choice they would be talking about flying or how attractive she found him. So far they had done neither.
“I will tell the staff to keep the cats out of your rooms as much as possible,”
he said.
“Really? That would be great.” She glanced at the tub. “If you hadn’t tempted me with such a great bathroom, I probably would have returned to the barracks. But this is pretty irresistible.”
Ah, so she could resist him, but not a bathtub. That put things in perspective.
“About your stay here,” he said, deciding flying was the safest topic. “You will have to be at the airport each day?”
“Yup. There’s plenty of butt for me to kick in your nice blue skies.”
“I’m sure my men will enjoy learning from you,” he told her, ignoring the assumption that she would continue to best him. He was going to make sure that didn’t happen.
“Oh, they’re going to learn, whether they enjoy the process or not.”
“I will put a car and driver at your disposal. Simply tell the driver where you wish to go and he will take you there.”
Her mouth parted. “You’re kidding? My own driver?”
“You may share him if you would like.”
She laughed. “No, that’s okay. As I said before, I could really get used to this.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in my country.”
He nodded at her and left. While there was much more to be said, this wasn’t the time. Later, when he’d decided on his strategy he would talk to her about more than her work. He would discover the secrets of the beautiful woman who flew like a falcon and moved with the grace of the cats she found so distasteful. He would learn her strengths, her weaknesses and he would have her in his bed. He would also best her in the air. To be honest, he wasn’t sure which he would enjoy more.
Billie finished drying her hair and stepped back to admire the effect. “Not bad,” she murmured to her reflection, as she fluffed up a curl. She’d always been a big-hair kind of gal and the complete lack of humidity in Bahania meant no risk of her carefully poofed style going flat.
Nearly an hour in a massive tub had relaxed her. Now rested, redressed in a sundress and still jetlagged from her trip the previous day she felt both tired and antsy.
“We should take a walk,” she told Muffin as she moved back into the living room of the suite. “A couple of laps in this room would almost do it, huh?”
She grinned as she spoke, then turned in a circle as she admired the elegant Western-style furnishings and beautiful paintings. There was a thick oriental rug by the sofa and a dining area to the left. The view was as spectacular as any she’d ever seen from the ground. Silent air-conditioning kept the room a comfortable seventy-six degrees.
“The good life,” she said as she gathered Muffin in her arms. “Okay, what if we take a quick walk outside, then figure out what we’re doing about dinner? I mean does the palace have room service? I should have asked the prince about it.”
She would have, too, if he hadn’t been so tall and princely while he’d showed her around the suite.
“The man is a hunk,” she told her little dog as she carried her out into the corridor. “Wish he were my type.”
Not that Billie had an actual type. That would require a level of involvement she’d never had.
“In my next life I’ll be a guy magnet,” she told herself. “They’ll be tripping over each other to get to me.”
But until then, it was just her and her dog.
Billie walked to the end of the corridor and took the stairs down. She had a good sense of direction and was able to find her way to the garden in under five minutes.
The lush cultivated space seemed larger at ground level. The various gardens spilled into each other, more formal English garden hedges giving way to serene pools surrounded by tropical disarray. She set Muffin down, careful to keep an eye on her so she wasn’t cornered and attacked by marauding cats.
“Not bad,” Billie murmured as Muffin began to sniff. “Easy to understand why it’s good to be the prince.”
Her sandals clicked loudly on the stone path. She wove her way between plants and bushes and trees, stopping to smell a flower or finger a leaf. She didn’t know all that much about growing things. Her expertise required an engine and enough thrust and speed to break the sound barrier. Still, if one had to stay earthbound, this was the place.
She rounded a corner and saw a man sitting on a bench. He looked up as she approached, then stood.
“Good afternoon,” he said with a smile. “Who might you be?”
The man was tall and handsome, albeit older. Gray spread from his temples and there were lines by his dark, deep-set eyes. His well-tailored suit reminded her of a bank president or senator, not that she’d ever met either.
“Billie Van Horn,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Ah, the military expert. I recognize the name.” He shook hands with her, then motioned to the bench. “You are a member of the family?”
“The only girl. A giant pain, let me tell you.” She settled on one end of the stone bench while he took the other. “The good news is I’m a great pilot and if my brothers ever make me too crazy I challenge them to a dogfight.” She grinned.
“A fighter jet is a great equalizer.”
“I can imagine.”
Muffin trotted up and sniffed at the nice man’s shoes.
“My dog,” Billie said. “Muffin. I’d heard there were cats, but I didn’t expect so many. I’m trying to keep Muffin from being the chef’s special.”
“I doubt you have to worry. She looks capable of taking care of herself.”
“Not when she’s outnumbered. There was already a fight in my room.”
The older man raised his eyebrows. “You are staying at the palace?”
“Yes. Prince Jefri invited me and my brother Doyle.” She leaned close. “I confess I was seduced by the thought of a bathtub. Roughing it comes with the job, so how could I resist a few weeks in a palace? The place is amazing.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
A cat strolled up. Billie eyed it with distaste but her companion simply stroked its back.
“You fly jets?” he asked. “That is your job?”
“I do most of the in-air training. I also work with the pilots on the simulators. It’s fun.”
“You are good at this?”
She grinned. “The best. This morning I blew Prince Jefri out of the sky in less than two minutes. Not literally, of course.”
“How comforting. I am not yet ready to lose my youngest son.”
As the words sank in, Billie opened her mouth, then closed it. “S-son?” she repeated, hoping she’d misunderstood. “You’re his father?”
“Yes.”
She looked into the dark eyes and realized the resemblance had been staring her in the face.
“But that would make you…”
“The king.”
“Oh, God.”
She half rose, thought about The King and I and wondered if she was allowed to hold her head higher than his. Was that a real law or just humor for a musical?
“I can’t…” She swallowed. “I didn’t…” Giving in to the need to curl up and die, she covered her face with her hands and moaned. “How many laws have I broken?”
“No more than three or four.”
She spread her fingers and peeked at the king. He didn’t look angry. If the smile was anything to go by, he was amused.
She dropped her hands to her lap and straightened. “You could have told me.”
“I did.”
“I mean before. When I said, ‘Hi, I’m Billie.’ You could have said, ‘Hey, I’m the king.”‘
“This was more interesting. You would not have spoken so freely with me if you had k
nown who I am.”
“No kidding. So do I bow or something?”
“You do neither. I am King Hassan of Bahania.” He nodded regally. “Welcome to my country.”
“Thank you. It’s great.” She sighed. “I guess I’d better apologize for not liking cats.”
“Caring for them is not required, although you aren’t allowed to injure any.”
“I’m okay with that, but Muffin may be another matter.” She glanced down at her dog and wrinkled her nose. “She’s only seven pounds, so I don’t think she could do much more than cause a lot of noise.”
The king followed her gaze, then smiled. “That is true. I will have to hope my cats are up to the challenge. If there—”
A loud howl interrupted his sentence. Billie sprang to her feet and headed toward the noise just as a black-and-white cat flew in front of her. She sidestepped to avoid stepping on the horrible creature and slid off the stone path. Her momentum didn’t help her regain her balance and she felt herself falling.
Suddenly strong arms grabbed her from behind. Someone hauled her up, rescuing her from what could have been some serious pain. Billie caught her breath as she felt rock-hard muscles, incredible body heat and the thundering beat of her own heart.
Please God let her not have been rescued by the king. He was handsome and all that, but old enough that having a visceral reaction to him bordered on icky.
She turned her head and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jefri gazing at
her from only a few inches away.
“Your dog seems to be in trouble again,” he said as he righted her. “She has a knack for finding it.”
Billie straightened and brushed off her dress. “I would say with all these cats stalking her, she has little choice except to protect herself.”
Remembering the presence of the king a half sentence too late, she swallowed.
“Not that the cats aren’t lovely,” she added in a small voice.
Jefri raised his eyebrows, but didn’t speak. The king looked amused. He bent over and scooped up a now calm and silent Muffin.
“So you are a troublemaker,” he said, staring into her dog’s little face.
“Perhaps you need to learn your place in the world.”
Billie hoped that place didn’t involve a cage. “She travels with me everywhere.
She’s sort of spoiled.”
“So I see.” He set the dog down on the ground and patted her head. “I would like you and your brother to join me for dinner tonight.” He straightened. “If you can bear to leave the little one in your room.”
Dinner with the king? How many times did that happen to a girl like her?
“Absolutely.” She mentally flashed on her wardrobe. “Formal? Informal?”
“It will just be family,” he said.
Which didn’t answer her question but made her wonder if the ever-hunky Prince Jefri would be there.
“Good. Would you like to inform your brother?”
Billie thought of Doyle’s reaction to dinner with royalty. He wouldn’t be amused.
“I’ll let you tell him,” she said, knowing even her brother wouldn’t dare lose his temper with a king. “He’ll be thrilled.”
Jefri’s mouth twitched, which made her wonder if he knew what she was thinking.
Not possible, she told herself. Men like him didn’t care about brains or thoughts. They wanted…She paused as she realized she didn’t know what men like
him wanted from women. But as she was neither a supermodel nor the heir to a champagne fortune, she was unlikely to find out anytime soon.
“Seven-thirty then,” the king said.
“I’ll be there.” She bent over and scooped up Muffin, then headed back to her room. If she was going to dine with royalty she needed much bigger hair.
Jefri finished knotting his tie and turned to reach for his jacket. As he picked it up, he checked the fabric for cat hairs.
“Try this,” his brother, Murat, said and tossed him a delinting roll.
“Thanks.”
Jefri went to work on his jacket while Murat lounged on the recently dehaired sofa.
“She really has a dog?” his brother asked.
“It is more of a rat with fur.” Of course Billie seemed to have an affinity for rodents, he thought remembering the tragedy of her mouse.
“And she shot you out of the sky?”
Jefri shrugged into the jacket and turned his attention on his brother. “Not literally.”
“I can see that.” Murat grinned. “I cannot wait to meet her.”
“She is…unexpected.”
“Sounds interesting.”
Jefri said nothing as he stared at Murat. His brother rose, stretched, then chuckled.
“I am the crown prince,” Murat said, as if Jefri needed reminding. “I may claim who I choose.”
“You may not claim this one.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “Why not?”
Jefri allowed himself a small smile. “She is mine.”
“Ah. Does she know?”
“Not yet, but she will. Soon.”
“Then I wish you luck, my brother.”
“I will not need it.”
Jefri was determined. Nothing would stand in the way of his learning all of Billie’s secrets, then having her in his bed.
Chapter 3
Like most women, Billie had loved to play dress-up when she’d been younger, so the chance to actually put on finery for real was too good to pass up. Plus one of her job perks was attending the Paris Air Show every other year. Which meant after she and her brothers oohed and ahhed over the latest in aviation technology, she went shopping.
She stood now in one of her impulse purchases—a shimmering floor-length dark purple gown. The halter-style permitted her to show off curves and still wear a bra—always exciting. Combs held her hair off her face and allowed her to tease the curls up about another inch, while long tendrils cascaded down her back.
Strappy silver sandals with four-inch heels made her feel like an Amazon goddess…well, a short one anyway.
“What do you think?” she asked, holding out two different earrings for Muffin to inspect. Her dog lay on the high four-poster bed. “These are more dangling, but these have more flash.”
Muffin barked.
“I agree. Flash over dangle,” Billie said and put on the smaller cubic zirconia earrings.
After a light spritzing of perfume, she pronounced herself as ready as she was going to be.
“I promise to bring you back something,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll have some kind of meat dish. I tucked a Baggie in my purse.” She waved her tiny evening bag at Muffin.
The trick would be getting the bit of entrée from her plate to her handbag, but she’d done it countless times before and had almost never been caught.
“Okay. You be good. I’ll see you soon.”
Billie pushed the play button on the DVD player in the bedroom armoire, then headed for the door. As she stepped into the hallway of the amazing pink palace, she had the feeling that for the first time in her life, she was almost a princess.
“Way better than Halloween dress-up,” she murmured as she started down a corridor.
As she paused by the elevator, waiting for it to take her to the second floor because there was no way she could do stairs in these shoes or the long dress, she heard a door close and the sound of footsteps. Seconds later Jefri walked toward her.
“Good evening,” he said, looking more than a little spiffy in a black tux. So she’d guessed right then, “a family dinner” in royal circles meant way dressier than jeans.
The soft wool fabric of Jefri’s tux had the faintest shimmer to it, and Billie had an instant urge to touch. That would be bad, she told herself, trying not to swoon as she took in the rest of the package.
Most men cleaned up pretty well and looked good in a tuxedo, but those who had a head start in the looks department came out looking even better. Jefri was no excep
tion. He’d brushed his dark hair away from his face, which emphasized his stern yet handsome features. The white shirt collar and cuffs made his skin seem darker. Billie avoided the sun whenever possible. She burned more than tanned and didn’t want to be fighting the leather look when she was fifty.
Knowing how pale she was and how dark he was gave her a little shiver. She had a visual of them entwined in bed, looking like actors for an erotic movie.
“Hi,” she said and waggled her fingers. “You look nice.”
He reached for her free hand and raised it slightly, then kissed her knuckles.
“You are enchanting. The glories of my country pale when compared to your beauty.”
Okay, sure. It was a line and little old-fashioned, but it worked. Billie felt her knees get a little wobbly and her heart start to pound.
The elevator doors opened. Jefri put his hand on her back to urge her to enter first. His thumb and forefinger landed on bare skin. Goose bumps erupted, even as warmth poured through her.
“I see you left Muffin in your room,” he said.
“I thought it was best. I always feel badly when I’m going to have fun without her, but she’s watching a movie.”
He pushed the button for the second floor. “Excuse me? Your dog is watching a movie?”
“Uh-huh. And I have to say that DVD collection in the armoire was fabulous. I had a hard time deciding, but in the end I put on Legally Blonde II because she has a real thing for Bruiser. That’s the dog in the movie.”
Jefri’s gaze never left her face, yet she felt him mentally drifting. He blinked.
“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.
