Desert Rogues Part 2 (38 page)

Questions? Jefri followed her out, then saw the rows of fighter jets. Yes, of course. He'd had dozens of things he wanted to know, but he couldn't think of any of them. Not when the hem of her form-fitting dress drew his gaze to her perfect thighs, and the sway of her hips made his blood boil.

He was unused to such strong physical reactions. Women had always been easy for him. He saw, he wanted, he was offered. But Billie seemed oblivious to her appeal, nor did she see him as more than an eager student.

She spun around and faced him. “What?” she asked, her blue eyes wide with amusement. “I know I haven't intimidated you, so out with it. What do you want to know?”

He had a thousand requests for information. How soft would her skin feel under his fingers? How would she taste when he kissed her? How low would she moan as he pleasured her over and over, because his fantasies about Billie were about making her surrender with desire?

“Why do you do this?” he asked. “Why do you fly?”

“Because I love it. I've always loved it.” She grinned. “And I'm damned good at it.”

“Yes, you are.”

Two airplane mechanics walked by. Both of them eyed Billie. They bent their heads together and exchanged words he couldn't hear. But he could imagine.

Jefri looked at the large tents, the open camp and then back at Billie. This would not do.

“You cannot stay here,” he told her.

Her smile faded. “Excuse me? You're throwing me out of your country?”

“No. Of course not. I'm saying you can't stay in this camp. It's not safe.”

Her good humor returned. “I appreciate the concern, but I've been living in camps just like this since I was eleven. They're a little rough on the outside, but still plenty fun. It's sweet of you to worry, but you don't have to. I usually have three brothers and a father hanging around. This time there's only Doyle, but he's plenty burly and he'll make sure I'm well protected.” She rubbed her cheek against the dog's shoulder. “Too protected. Isn't that right, little Muffin girl?”

He ignored her conversation with the dog. “You and your brother will be my guests in the palace.”

She blinked at him. “Did you say palace?”

“Yes. There are several dozen guest rooms. You would be very comfortable there.”

“Do these rooms have bathtubs?” Temptation thickened her voice.

“Large enough to swim in.”

She made a low noise in her throat. The sound made his blood surge.

“Gee, a real bed, walls, a roof and a sand-free life,” she said. “Color me there. Doyle objects, I'll have to deck him.”

 

“This is a complete waste of time if you ask me,” Doyle muttered as the long, black limo drove between large wrought-iron gates. “We've never stayed with a client before.”

Billie gazed out at the extensive and well-manicured lawns. “We've never had a royal client before. It's a palace, okay? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. No one's forcing you to suffer through the indignities of pure luxury. Go back to our tent city by the airport if it makes you happy.”

Her brother glared at her. “You know Dad would kill me if I wasn't around to keep an eye on you.”

“I'm twenty-seven, Doyle,” she said. “At some point you're going to have to acknowledge that I'm all grown-up.”

“Ain't gonna happen.”

She shook her head at the familiar sentiment. It was hard enough being the baby of the family, but being the only girl made things worse.

Still, she'd gotten used to their high-handed treatment years ago and for the most part was able to ignore it. When she didn't care one way or another, she usually gave in. But not this time. Not when there was a bathtub on the line.

The car rounded a corner and Billie felt her eyes widen. “I can't believe it,” she breathed as she took in the multistory pink palace sprawling in front of her.

The main building was huge—the size of a museum or a parliament building. Balconies circled every floor. There were turrets and arched windows and guards on the ground and lush gardens for as far as the eye could see.

“Not bad,” Doyle said.

Billie cuffed him. “You're impressed. It's amazing. Too bad Dad and the guys can't be here to see it.”

Her father was in South America attending a multinational conference and her two oldest brothers had special assignments in Iraq. Which left Doyle and her in charge of the Bahanian job. Easy work, Billie thought. She could train an air force pilot in her sleep. Flying was something she loved and one of the few things she did well.

The limo pulled to a stop and a uniformed guard stepped forward to open the rear door. Doyle stepped out first. Billie grabbed Muffin and slid across the slick, leather seat. As she stepped out into the sunlight, her eyes took a second to adjust. During that second or two, her gaze landed on Prince Jefri and she would have sworn she saw him bathed in shimmering gold.

Neat trick, she thought as her mind whirled from the beauty of the palace and her body swooned from the beauty of the man.

“Ms. Van Horn.” The prince nodded.

“Billie,” she said with a smile. “As I'm going to be shooting you out of the sky on a regular basis, there's no point in being formal.”

She thought the prince might have winced at her words. No doubt he thought he would get good enough to win against her. They all thought that, and they were all wrong. Which meant he would get more and more crabby as the training went along. Oh, well. It had happened before and she had survived.

The prince spoke to a uniformed young woman who nodded, then gestured toward Doyle. Her brother gave Billie a quick wink as he followed the maid into the castle. Billie stepped up for her escort and tried not to drool at the thought of the riches within.

“This way,” Prince Jefri said.

She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I will show you to your room.”

Did royalty do that? She figured about the only thing a prince did for himself was breathe. Hadn't she read somewhere that some royals even had a special servant to put toothpaste on the toothbrush?

“You don't have to do that yourself,” she said, thinking of her bath and how long she was going to soak. At least an hour. She had a good book she wanted to finish and a…

“Is this your first visit to my country?” he asked.

“Um, yes.” She shifted Muffin to her other arm and trailed along beside the prince. “I wasn't part of the sales presentation when our firm bid for the training job.”

They entered into a foyer the size of a small arena. The gold inlaid ceilings soared a good fifty feet above them. Mosaics of ancient battles lined the curved walls. Not exactly like the flocked wallpaper in that hotel in Bosnia.

He noticed her interest and paused in front of a mural of several fierce men on horses. “My people have always been fighters. A thousand years ago, we defended our land against the infidels.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “That would be us, right?”

“Only if you are European.”

“I'm a bit of everything.” She looked at the elaborate chandelier and the stained glass windows. “Beautiful place.”

“Thank you. The Pink Palace is a treasure for the people of Bahania.”

“How many of them get to stay here on a regular basis?”

The prince surprised her by smiling. “We hold it in trust.”

“I'm sure they're grateful.”

He started down the main hallway. Billie followed, noting they could have easily driven a tank and not come close to bumping into any walls.

“I did some research before I got here,” she said, her high-heeled sandals clicking loudly on the tiled floor. “Your country is not strictly Muslim.”

“No. Our people celebrate many faiths, and respect all.”

That's what all her reading had told her. While the rest of the Middle East couldn't seem to get it together, Bahania, and their neighbor El Bahar, offered religious freedom to all. The monarchies had ruled for over a thousand years with no hint of uprising. Ultimate power that didn't corrupt? Was it possible?

“So why the air force?” she asked.

“To protect our oil fields. With so much unrest around us, we need to be able to secure our resources.”

“The oil won't last forever.”

“True, which is why even now we are diversifying our exports. Bahania will not be left behind in the world market.”

Pretty
and
smart, she thought with a little smile. Now if only he could see her as a desirable woman, her life would be complete. Her research had informed her that Prince Jefri was single, but she'd seen pictures of the women in his life. There wasn't a fighter pilot in the bunch.

They passed room after room. Some were decorated with elegant Western-style furniture while others had low sofas and cushions, more suited to a nomadic tent. There were paintings and frescos and statues and…

Muffin squirmed in her arms.

“What is it sweetie?” she asked.

The dog yipped and squirmed some more. Seconds later a large white cat strolled out of a meeting room large enough to hold the entire Congress.

Billie yelped and clutched her dog more tightly to her chest. “What is that?” she asked as she took a step back.

The prince stared at her. “A cat,” he said with the obvious patience of one speaking to a mentally challenged person.

Annoyance overcame hormones and she glared at him. “I
know
it's a cat. What's it doing here?”

“My father has an affection for cats.”

She eyed the fluffy white demon. “I read that but I thought more in the lines of a painting on velvet or some carvings. Are you telling me there are actual cats in the palace?”

“Dozens. Is that a problem?”

She saw the corner of the prince's mouth twitch, as if he was amused by her reaction.

“I'm not a cat person.”

“They will not hurt you.”

She wasn't all that sure. If there were dozens, they could gang up on her and take her down. “What about Muffin?”

“I'm sure your…dog will be safe.”

She didn't like how he said “dog” and she didn't like the cats.

“Do you have an allergy?” he asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly?”

“I had a bad experience when I was young.”

“With a small lion?”

She narrowed her gaze. Suddenly he wasn't nearly as handsome and not the least bit intelligent. “Would you like to show me to my room?”

“More than life itself.”

J
efri could tell his guest was annoyed and unhappy about the cats. While he didn't appreciate them as his father did, especially when they shed on all the furniture and covered his clothes in cat hair, they were little more than a mild inconvenience. But watching Billie Van Horn skitter around them, jump away and generally act as if she was in mortal danger every time one of them crossed her path, he wondered what possible trauma in her past could have caused such an overreaction.

At least wondering about her cat phobia gave him something to think about other than the perfection of her body. She was all lush curves and earthy appeal. Her scent—soap, something floral and a hint of the woman herself—made his blood heat. He wouldn't have minded his reaction if she'd been trying to get his attention, but she seemed to be far more concerned about protecting herself from marauding felines.

He led the way to an elevator that took them to the third floor. When the doors opened, a tabby sat in the middle of the hallway. Billie jumped which, considering her high-heeled sandals, made him worry for the state of her slender ankles.

“Were you attacked?” he asked as she sidled around the twelve-pound feline.

“What?” She glanced at him, her blue eyes wide with worry. “Not me, but a close friend.” She pressed her lips together. “Muffin is only seven pounds. They could slice her to ribbons and serve her for breakfast.”

Jefri thought of how much time his father's cats spent sleeping. “I doubt they are that ambitious.”

Billie's sniff told him she wasn't impressed by his logic.

As much as he wanted her in the palace, he hadn't intended his invitation to distress her.

“Would you prefer to stay at the barracks?”

She shook her head. “We'll manage.”

“The room is just up there.”

He motioned to a door, then stepped ahead of her to open it. Billie stepped inside and her breath caught in an audible gasp. Jefri followed her gaze, taking in the large living area, the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the Arabian Sea and the wide double doors that led to the sleeping quarters.

“Will you be comfortable here?” he asked politely.

“Yes. And should I feel the need to take in boarders to supplement my income, there will be plenty of room.” She grinned. “This I could get used to.”

“You may consider the palace your home while you're in Bahania.”

“You might want to be careful with an invitation like that. What if I never want to leave?”

Then she would be available to him whenever he wanted. Jefri turned the thought over in his mind and found it gave him pleasure. Too bad his father had done away with the harem. She would have been a wonderful addition.

“Please let any of the staff know if you have any needs,” he said instead of telling her what he was really thinking.

“Sure thing. I can't imagine needing anything else, though. This room is amazing.”

She bent over and set her dog on the floor. The fur ball trotted to the sofa and began sniffing at the furniture.

“Do you always travel with your pet?” Jefri asked.

“Yup. Muffin and I are a package deal. I've even taken her up flying with me.”

He couldn't imagine why. “Does she enjoy it?”

“Hard to tell,” Billie admitted. “She doesn't throw up, so that's something.”

Wanting to talk about something other than the creature touring the room, he crossed to the French doors and pointed toward the sea.

“The balcony circles the entire palace. From the south end you can look toward Lucia-Serrat.”

“I've heard of the island. It's supposed to be very beautiful.”

“Much of this area is.”

She shook her head. “I had a mental picture of sand as far as the eye could see. But the city sprawls over a much bigger area than I would have thought. Of course when it ends, there
are
miles of sand.”

“You noticed that while you were flying today?”

She nodded. “Not much else to do up there. The first few days of dogfighting are pretty boring what with…”

Her voice trailed off. He saw her swallow, then she glanced at him from under long lashes.

“So that was bad, right?” she asked, sounding more resigned than contrite. “I've just insulted a prince. Is there a punishment? Do I get sent to the dungeon?”

“Why the sudden concern?” he asked. “Back at the airport you told me I would never beat you.”

“Oh, you won't,” she told him. “But I should probably be more subtle about it all.”

“Because of the palace?”

“It does sort of put our lives in perspective. I'm a small-town girl and you're…not.”

“Indeed. I would not even qualify as a big-city girl.”

Her beautiful mouth twisted. “You know what I mean. Maybe you could get me a brochure or some notes. Something along the lines of twenty ways not to insult royalty.”

“There is a person in charge of etiquette. Perhaps I should have him drop by.”

Billie wrinkled her nose. “You're making fun of me.”

“Only a little.”

“Wow. You have a sense of humor. What's next on the surprise parade? Do you do your own laundry?”

“Never.”

“A guy thing. My brothers don't do theirs either. But then that's fairly typical of—”

A sharp yowl cut through the conversation. He turned toward the sound but Billie was already moving across the marble flooring. Several sharp barks were followed by a yip.

“Muffin!” she cried as she plunged into a fray of fur, paws, teeth and tails.

While Jefri had no desire to rescue her pet, he felt obligated to offer assistance. He eyed Billie's bare legs and hands, then moved behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her out of the way.

She squealed, adding to the din. He had a brief impression of curves, heat and potential before he set her down behind him.

“I'll take care of this,” he said as he reached into the swirl of cats and plucked out a small growling, yelping ball of fur.

For his trouble he received several scratches, a bite from the dog and enough hair on his suit to change the color from black to gray.

“I believe this is yours.” He handed the small, shaking dog to her.

She pulled the creature close and brushed her hands over its body. “Muffin! Are you hurt? Did those horrible, mean killers hurt you?”

After reassuring herself that Muffin had indeed survived, she turned her attention to him.

“I don't know what to say,” she breathed, her blue eyes wide and anguished. “They could have killed her.”

He examined his hand. Muffin's bite hadn't broken the skin, but several of the cats had left their mark.

“I think she would have survived the encounter.”

He crossed to the main door and opened it, then shooed the cats out of the suite.

“There may still be one or two left in here,” he said. “Just give them a push out the door.”

She glanced around uneasily, then moved close. “How can I thank you?”

Her voice was low and intense. Had she been someone of his usual social circle, he would have assumed she was offering more than a polite acknowledgment of what he'd done. But with Billie, he wasn't so sure. Besides, as much as he wanted her in his bed, he intended to seduce her every step of the way. He had a feeling that with her, anticipation would only make the experience sweeter.

“It was no matter.”

She shook her head and set Muffin on the sofa. “It was a huge deal. Those cats were so horrible.” She reached for his hand and took it in hers. “You're bleeding!”

A few of the scratches seeped blood. Jefri wasn't the least bit concerned, but he didn't object when Billie dragged him into the large bathroom and ran water over his hand.

Her skin was smooth and warm against his own. She stood close enough for him to feel the heat of her body and the light brush of her breasts against his arm.

“You were very brave,” she said.

“They were only cats.”

“Killers by nature,” she murmured as she reached for a towel.

He wiped his hands then touched his finger to her chin. “What happened that made you so afraid of cats? While I'll agree they are hunters, they are small enough that you would never be in danger of them.”

She shrugged. “I don't like them.”

“I gathered that. The question is why?”

Billie sighed. Her breath teased his skin and he dropped his hand to his side.

“When I was young, I desperately wanted a pet,” she said. “Something of my own. But my mother was concerned about getting me one because my brothers were so wild. She doubted any pet big enough to hold its own with them would be a good animal for me. But on my seventh birthday, my brothers pitched in and got me a white mouse.”

She smiled. “I know they did it because they thought the mouse would scare me, but I wasn't frightened at all.”

“You have three older brothers?” he asked.

She nodded.

He thought of the size and strength of Doyle Van Horn and knew that Billie would have to have been tough to survive in that household.

“I loved Missy,” Billie said.

He raised his eyebrows. “Missy the Mouse?”

“Uh-huh. She was very sweet and tame. I taught her tricks.”

“Such as?”

“She knew her name and she would stand on her back legs when I offered her food.”

“That's not a trick. She was simply attempting to reach the food.”

Billie's eyes narrowed. “She was
my
mouse. I get to say if it was a trick or not.”

“Fair enough. So you had this mouse. I suspect there was a cat involved.”

Billie nodded. She leaned against the bathroom counter. “We had this playroom. There was a latch up higher than I could reach and sometimes, if I slammed the door, it locked into place. One day Missy got out. I couldn't find her anywhere. I wanted my brothers to help me find her, but they wouldn't. I was mad, so I stomped into the playroom and slammed the door. It locked behind me.”

Her voice remained firm, but he heard the edge of emotion. Why? Over the death of a mouse twenty years ago? What possible reason could she have for caring?

Billie folded her arms over her chest. “I walked to the window and looked out and that's when I saw Missy. Two of the neighbor's cats had her cornered. They were playing with her. Torturing her. I screamed for my brothers to let me out but they were in the front yard and couldn't hear me. My mom was at the grocery store. I was trapped for nearly two hours. That's about how long it took them to kill and eat her.”

Jefri winced. “You didn't turn away?”

“How could I? She was my mouse.” She sighed. “I remember sobbing and my mom finding me. She tried to convince me it hadn't been Missy, but how many white mice live in the wild?”

“So that is why you dislike cats?”

“Wouldn't you?”

He couldn't imagine having a mouse as a pet in the first place. “They were acting on instinct, not out of malice.”

“Oh, and that makes Missy's death acceptable?”

“Of course not.” Were they really talking about a mouse?

“It's hard having pets,” she said as she straightened her arms and pushed off the counter. “But worth it. Now I have Muffin and I'm going to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her. No palace cat is going to be allowed to have her for dinner.”

“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.”