The Sheikh & the Princess Bride (6 page)

She stared out at the horizon. “My dad traveled a lot and I thought that meant he didn’t care so much about her, but I was wrong. I remember a couple of days after she’d been diagnosed and they’d told us, I went into their bedroom to talk to her. He was there, holding her. Crying. I’d never seen my dad cry. I didn’t want to spy, but I couldn’t seem to walk away. He begged her not to die. He told her he couldn’t make it without her. I could feel their love for each other. I vowed then I would find someone to love me that much.”

“Have you?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows. “We wouldn’t be sitting here holding hands if I had.”

“An excellent point.”

Funny how she’d begun to believe she wouldn’t find anyone to love her that much because no one seemed to be interested in her. Knowing that her brothers were scaring off potential boyfriends made her feel a little better. Although did she want someone who didn’t want her enough to go up against her brothers?

Too confusing, she told herself, and not something to be resolved today.

“So when your mother died, you went on the road with your father?”
Jefri
asked.

She nodded. “He’d started taking the boys with him during the summer. Now, with no one left at home, we all went. Dad hired a tutor so we could keep up with school. I turned thirteen in South America and sixteen in the Middle East. Most girls get a sweet sixteen party—I soloed on a jet.”

“Would you rather have had the party?”

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Are you crazy? I’d begged my dad to let me fly jets for two years before he let me. He said I couldn’t handle the technical information, so I studied physics and aerodynamics until he was forced to change his mind.”

Jefri
watched the emotions move across Billie’s face as she spoke. She was a beautiful woman, but it was not difficult to imagine the frightened young girl she must have been when she had lost her mother. Frightened and alone, yet determined. What had he fought for when he had turned sixteen? As the youngest son of the king, he had been given nearly everything he wanted. If he recalled correctly his sixteenth birthday had involved a large party and a concert by a young female pop star.

“You survive in a very male world,” he said.

She laughed. “At first it sucked me in. After my mom died I thought the only way to get along with my father was to be one of the guys. I thought that would make him respect me. Over time I finally figured out I would never be another one of his sons so I stopped trying.”

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am.”

She laughed. “No desire to date Doyle, huh?”

“None in the least.”

“Around my nineteenth birthday, I said the hell with it. We were in France, at the air show. I spent two days getting my hair done, painting my nails and shopping. I went from combat boots to four-inch heels and I never looked back.”

“What did they say?” he asked.

“No one even noticed for a while. My dad said he thought my skirts were too short and my brothers ragged on me for my big hair. I challenged them all to a simulated dogfight. It was the first time I beat them and I’ve been kicking their butts ever since.”

“The power of a woman,” he said, delighted by her victory.

“Something like that.” She sipped her drink. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. They’re weird, but I think every family is. We live a very nomadic existence and that has made us appreciate the times when we are together.”

“Your father never remarried?”

“No. I wish he would. I know he loved my mom, but that’s no reason for him to be alone for so long. I don’t think she would have wanted it that way.” She looked at him. “Your father never remarried after your mother’s death.”

“That’s true. Theirs was a love match as well, although he’d been married before. I think he found raising four sons and a daughter took too much time.

However my father takes long trips to Europe and America where I doubt he lacks for female companionship.”

“Good point. I doubt anyone is going to tell him she’s not interested.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is that why you are with me? Because I am a prince and you do not think you can say no?”

She studied him from under lowered lashes. “Pretty much.”

He saw the corner of her mouth quiver.

“I can see you are trying not to laugh,” he told her.

“You’re right, but if you could have seen your face when I said that. You believed me and you were deeply insulted.”

He released her hand and swung his legs to the ground. “I can see I am going to have to teach you more respect for my lofty position.”

“I respect you,
Jefri
, but it’s not as if I’m scared of you.”

“Good to know. Are you ready for lunch?”

“Sure.”

Billie’s idea of al fresco dining involved take-out or a sub sandwich made under questionable circumstances with ingredients she didn’t want to identify. But outdoor dining prince-style took on a whole new meaning. Not only was there a real wood table with matching chairs, a white linen tablecloth provided a perfect backdrop for elegant china and crystal.

A servant in a white jacket and black slacks materialized as they walked toward the beautifully set table. He held out Billie’s chair and offered her a hand-printed menu of the various available selections. She looked over the many salads and entrées—not a sandwich in the bunch—then set down her menu and leaned toward
Jefri
.

“You’re working very hard to impress me,” she said.

“You told me that was not possible.”

“I might have lied.”

“Good.”

He brushed her mouth with his and sent heat racing to all parts of her body.

“But remember,” he said quietly. “These are only things and scenarios. They say nothing about who I am.”

She knew what he meant. That he was more than a rich guy with hot and cold running servants. But he was wrong about his world not being part of who he was.

Jefri
wielded power as casually as most people drove a car. He commanded an impressive air force with enough firepower to destroy nearly any country on the planet and her job was to teach him to do that better.

“You’re not exactly how I pictured a prince would be,” she said.

“Is the impression better or worse.”

“Different. But then I don’t have a lot of experience in the royal world.”

“Then we are even because I have little experience with delightful, sexy female flight instructors. Mine were always men. I would say it was my loss.”

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

He picked up her menu and handed it to her. “What would you like?”

“I’m not going to ask what’s good. I’m assuming it’s all fabulous.”

“Of course it is. Oh, and if you’re thinking of choosing something because you want to take the leftovers to Muffin, the king asked me to tell you to simply ask for a plate to be sent to your rooms. There is no need for you to slip food into your handbag.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and held in a groan. “Did everyone notice I’d done that at dinner?”

“Of course.”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I’m humiliated.”

“You’re charming. We were all entranced.”

“I had a Baggie,” she said, knowing it was a pretty feeble explanation. “It’s

not like I put meat directly into my purse or anything.”

“Of course not.”

“So you don’t think it’s odd?”

He smiled. “I think it is extremely odd.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Absolutely.”

Billie’s pleasure in her oasis lunch with
Jefri
lasted exactly twenty-five hours and forty-two minutes, right until she found herself once again flying with him.

But instead of sharing a beautifully restored Tiger Moth, they were flying separate jets and she was coming around for another pass.

What she hated was how quickly she was going to kill him. If only he’d lasted four or five minutes, they could both feel better about the experience. But the specially designed timer that was part of the training program had yet to hit ninety seconds and she already had him in her sights.

For a brief flicker in time, she thought about pretending that she couldn’t get him, but as the thought formed, she pushed it away. Her job was to make her students into the best pilots possible and that wasn’t going to happen by letting them win. She maneuvered until she was able to get a clear shot, then pushed the button. The sharp sound of tone-lock filled her cockpit and his sharp inhale of disbelief filled her headset.

“You continue to surprise me,” he said.

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking from the tone of his voice and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She followed him down from the sky and landed. When she’d pulled her jet up to his, she hesitated before climbing down.

What was she going to say? How could she explain that it didn’t matter to her that he didn’t beat her in the sky? She still liked being around him, talking to him, flying with him, and she wouldn’t object if he wanted to kiss her again.

“Sitting here is getting nothing done,” she told herself and popped the canopy on her jet, then pulled off her helmet and climbed down.

As she crossed the tarmac, she saw Doyle walking toward
Jefri
. Something in her stomach warned her this could be trouble, so she hurried to catch up.

But she was too late and by the time she joined them she was just in time to see her brother slap
Jefri
on the back and hear him say, “It’s gotta kill you to keep getting beaten by a girl.”

“You get beaten by me all the time,” she reminded her brother, wishing he could keep his mouth shut.

Doyle grinned. “Yeah, but I’m not a prince.”

She wanted to scream in frustration. Instead she simply clenched her teeth and walked off. She didn’t want to know what
Jefri
was thinking so she kept her gaze straight ahead as she made it back to the main tent. There she collected her street clothes and stepped into a restroom where she changed back into shorts and a T-shirt before stowing her gear and collecting Muffin.

“The entire situation makes me crazy,” she told her dog. “How am I supposed to win at this? I can’t help being good and I don’t want to change it.”

She stepped out into the afternoon sun and nearly plowed into
Jefri
.

“What?” she demanded.

“I was looking for you.”

“Okay. Fine. But here’s the thing. I won’t apologize for what I do well. I’m sorry if you’re having ego problems.”

“I do not consider my ego your responsibility.”

He spoke quietly, even reasonably. That made her nervous. “I’m just doing my job,” she continued. “Even though I know what they say. That I’m a ball-buster.

It’s not my plan to emasculate you, it just happens.”

He grabbed her arms and led her around to the side of the tent, next to a stack of large crates.

“You talk too much,” he said, his gaze intent on her face.

“I’m trying to explain.”

“I understand perfectly. Put down that damn dog.”

She was so surprised by the instruction that she did as he said. Then she was really glad when he pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

The warm, insistent pressure against her lips made her cling to him. Heat flared, melting away all her concerns about him being upset or angry or anything the least bit negative.

His mouth moved slowly, as if giving her time to get used to what he was doing.

If she’d been able to communicate without her mouth, she would have told him that she didn’t mind the kissing at all. In fact, she really, really liked it.

He could do more. Really.

Instead she placed her hands on his shoulders and let her body lean into his.

She tilted her head and parted her lips in invitation.

He reacted with a sharp intake of air and a gentle sweep of his tongue against hers.

The kiss was as spectacular as it had been the first time. She felt her insides quiver, her knees shake and her thighs tremble. Heat poured through her, making her want and need with an intensity that stunned her.

One of his hands tangled in her hair, the other traced a line down her back until it settled on her rear. When he squeezed the curves, she arched forward, bringing her belly in contact with him.

Now it was her turn to gasp as she felt his arousal. He wanted her. After everything that had happened and what her brother had said,
Jefri
wanted her.

Delight blended with desire and she nearly laughed.

He broke the kiss. “What do you find so amusing?” he asked, his breath mingling with hers.

“Just all of this.”

“That I want to kiss you?”

“It is a bit of a surprise.”

He cupped her chin and stared into her eyes. “Why? You’re a beautiful woman.

Unique, intelligent, desirable. I doubt there is a man alive who wouldn’t sell his soul for one night with you.”

She blinked at him. Whoa—talk about a great line. Right now she didn’t even care if he meant it.

“I, um, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled as he rubbed his thumb against her lower lip. “I would very much like to have dinner with you tonight.”

At this point in time, she would have followed him to the moon. “Okay. I mean, that would be great.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at your room at seven. Is that convenient?”

As she’d planned to spend the rest of the afternoon soaking and grooming, seven sounded good.

“I’ll be ready.”

“We’ll be going out,” he said. “There are several excellent restaurants in the city. Will you allow me to choose?”

“Of course.”

“Then it is a date.” He dropped a brief kiss on her lips, then stepped back.

“Leave the dog at home.”

Billie stood in front of her closet and reviewed her array of clothes. She believed in shopping, both as a sport and a way to relax, so there were plenty of outfits to choose from. She already knew she wanted something both sexy and sophisticated, with a touch of elegance thrown in. Which pretty much left out anything with feathers, rhinestones or too much beading.

She tilted her head, then straightened quickly as the curlers started to loosen.

Tonight required perfect hair, which meant an hour spent in electric curlers and a double dose of hair spray.

“Everyone looks good in black,” she murmured as she pulled out a clinging black dress with a deep
vee
and see-through sleeves. “But it’s so predictable.”

Maybe she should try a color. Not red. Somehow that just made her look trashy.

“Maybe blue,” she said as she reached for a midnight-blue dress that had cost her nearly a month’s salary in Paris.

The hand-painted bias-cut skirt fluttered just above her knees. The sleeveless bodice wasn’t that low cut because the appeal lay elsewhere. From the waist up, the fabric was completely sheer. However the same hand-painted pattern that graced the hem of the skirt swirled across her breasts and the built-in bra in such a way that everything was perfectly covered. Yet there was the promise of being naked!

“This one,” she said, carrying the dress into the bathroom. She had a perfect pair of high-heeled strappy sandals that made her ankles look as slender as swizzle sticks and some really high-end fake jewelry.

Billie had to admit her excitement about the evening was about more than just the whole “dine with a prince” thrill. Part of her was really happy that
Jefri
wanted to see her after his defeat earlier. That had never happened before and it gave her hope for his entire gender. While she believed her brothers had a part in warning men off, she couldn’t help but think there had to be one or two willing to deal with their potential wrath unless their bruised egos had put them out of the mood.

A knock at the door made her panic. She glanced at the clock, but it was way too early for
Jefri
.

“Who is it?” she called from the center of the living room.

“Doyle.”

She walked to the door and opened it. “Make it snappy,” she said. “I’m busy.”

He pushed past her into the room, then looked her over. “You don’t look busy to me. You look like you’re not doing much of anything. I need your help with some of the equipment.”

“Not my area of expertise.”

“Billie, I’m serious. The mechanics want to talk to you about one of the engines they’re tuning. You know how you can tell what’s wrong from the sound.”

“Yes, it’s a gift and one we can all take advantage of tomorrow. Now get out of here.”

She pushed on her brother, but as he was about ten inches taller and oh, sixty pounds of muscle heavier, he didn’t budge.

“What’s your problem?” he demanded.

“I told you. I’m busy.”

Doyle folded his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows. “With what?”

She planted her hands on her hips and did her best to look stern.

“I have a date.”

His expression hardened. “With whom?”

She knew he was mad whenever he started using really correct grammar. “I’m over twenty-one and you don’t own me, so I don’t have to say.”

“I’m not leaving until you give me all the particulars.”

She laughed. “Doyle, this isn’t the nineteenth century. There aren’t any particulars. A man asked me to dinner and I said yes. Get over it.”

“You have a responsibility to this company.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “How many times have I covered for you? A thousand? I would say I’m entitled to a night off when I want it.”

His gaze narrowed as he studied her. “It’s that damn prince, isn’t it?”

“I’m not sure you want to swear in front of his title. They might string you up for that.”

He swore again. “Billie, I know you’re mad about what we’ve all been doing.”

“What? Oh, you mean running my life and warning off men behind my back?” She wanted to punch him but she knew that not only would she fail to really hurt him, she might mess up her freshly manicured nails.

“You were a pig,” she told him instead. “All of you. You had no right and I deeply resent it.”

“Fine. Be mad. Go out, but not with him.”

“What’s wrong with
Jefri
?”

“Nothing, except he’s a damn prince.”

“I actually know that.”

He dropped his arms to his sides. “Billie, you’re out of your league with a man like him.”

She knew what he meant. That she was just the hired help and
Jefri
was royal.

“I’m not expecting anything more than dinner, Doyle. You don’t have to get your panties in a bunch.”

His mouth twisted. “I don’t wear panties.”

“I know, but you get my drift. You’re making too much of this. It’s just dinner.”

“Uh-huh. That’s why you’re spending five hours primping.”

“I haven’t spent five hours.” It had barely been two. “Besides, grooming is fun.”

“You’re not good at this kind of thing,” he said. “You don’t have the practice.”

“Oh, right. And who’s fault would that be? Hmmm. Yours?”

“Fine. Blame me. But at least start on someone easier. A regular guy. I could set you up with someone.”

“No, thanks. I’m not interested in who you think is right for me.”

She shuddered to imagine what kind of man Doyle would send her way. Someone bland, sexless and terrified of her brothers, most likely.

“He’s completely wrong for you,” Doyle told her.

“Maybe, but he asked me out to dinner and I said yes. I suggest you get over it.” She walked to the door and held it open. “I have to get dressed now.”

He walked toward the door, then paused. “You’re making a mistake, sis. He could crush you like a bug.”

As she knew he was genuinely worried, she decided not to kill him. “I appreciate the concern, but I need to do this. Maybe I’m jumping into the deep end, but I’m a big girl. I know how to swim.”

“Swimming won’t help if he’s a shark.”

With that cheerful statement, Doyle walked out and she slammed the door behind him.

“Men,” she muttered.

“The city planners wanted more than a typical high-rise skyline in the financial district,”
Jefri
said as their car turned down the main boulevard. “While the

buildings are tall, there are levels with gardens and art museums.”

Billie leaned toward the window. “Is that one hollow?”

He chuckled. “Parts of it are. There is also an illusion of seeing through to the other side. That is part of the design.”

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed as she turned her head to take in all the gleaming, modern structures.

“In the late 1970s my father realized that
Bahania
would not always be able to count on our oil reserves. That in three or four generations, the wells would begin to run dry and it was necessary for him to prepare his country for that future. In concert with the king of El
Bahar
, our neighbor, he opened trade markets and made financial institutions welcome.”

She turned back to him and smiled. “That’s some family history.”

The sun had long set, leaving the city bathed in the glow of streetlights. The illumination barely penetrated the limo, so he couldn’t see much more than her profile and a hint of her features. Still, her beauty took his breath away.

Talking about the changes in the city over the past thirty or forty years might not be interesting, but he knew the information by heart and didn’t have to consider his words. Were they to discuss something more personal, he had a feeling he might verbally stumble.

She stunned him. That the confident, capable woman who flew as if she’d been born to the sky could also look like a goddess seemed impossible. Yet it was true.

She shifted slightly on the leather seat and her hair caught the light. Soft curls cascaded down her back. A few tendrils teased her ears and her neck, although she’d piled most of her hair up on her head. Her dark blue eyes seemed to glow with feminine secrets. And that dress. He swallowed hard and did his best not to notice the transparent fabric and the way only a few brushstrokes of color and paint concealed her curves from view.

He would not be able to eat, he thought grimly. How on earth could he sit across from her in a public place and act as if nothing was wrong? He was Prince
Jefri
of
Bahania
, yet with Billie he was little more than a man humbled by a woman.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. “If you were some kind of wild animal I would swear you were stalking dinner.”

“You are not far wrong,” he said and lightly touched her bare arm. “You are most desirable prey.”

She shivered, but didn’t look away. Long lashes shielded her eyes. Earrings glittered and dangled.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” he asked in an attempt to keep from claiming her right there in the car.

“You mentioned it a couple of times, but it’s not a topic of conversation that’s going to bore me.” She smiled. “It’s not the sort of thing I hear that often.”

“Then the men you know are blind fools.”

“You got that right.” She laughed. “And I appreciate how kind you’re being. I’m just part of the staff and you’re going out of your way to make me feel like a princess. I know you usually date movie stars and heiresses.”

Kind? She thought he was being kind?

Before he could tell her that he had no kindness in mind, they pulled up in front of the restaurant. Billie leaned toward his side, the curbside.

“Wow. Look at all those people. Is there something going on here?”

Jefri
followed her gaze, then swore.

“What?” she asked. “Is there a problem?”

“Not one that can be fixed. I am sorry. I did not think to tell my assistant to make reservations in another name. I am sure he did not think of it either.”

She was close enough that he could feel the heat of her body and inhale the sweetness of her perfume. Both were a temptation.

“I don’t understand,” she said, apparently oblivious of her amazing charms.

“These people are with the press.”

“Really?” She leaned past him to look at them through the window. Several had crowded around the limo. “Who are they waiting for?”

“Us.”

She straightened and stared at him. “What? Oh. Right. You’re the prince.” She clutched her impossibly small purse to her chest. “I’m going to be something of a disappointment.”

He shook his head. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Billie’s lack of awareness delighted him. Not only had she been unaware of why the press were there, she seemed blind to her own appeal. So many women he took out were secretly thrilled to be photographed for tabloids.

“So what happens?” Billie asked. “Do you go on ahead and then I sneak in through the back?”

He stiffened. “You are with me. We will walk in together.”

She eyed the jostling crowd. “This really isn’t my kind of thing. I hope I don’t trip.”

“Would you prefer to return to the palace?”

She hesitated, then glanced down at her dress. “I did sort of go to a lot of trouble to get all fancy. Will it be crazy inside?”

“No. The photographers won’t be allowed in the restaurant. We’ll be shown to a private table where we will dine just like any other patron.”

He could see her weighing the possibilities.

“You decide,” she said. “Let’s do what you want.”

Not a possibility, he thought, as his wants and desires had very little to do with dining in a restaurant.

“The food here is excellent,” he said, as he nodded at the driver. “You will enjoy it. We will even order a special entrée for Muffin.”

Billie tried to focus on food and her dog as the rear door of the limo opened and
Jefri
stepped out. The explosion of flashbulbs caught her unaware and temporarily blinded her. She slid along the leather seat until she could step out in front of the restaurant. A second barrage of bright lights left her totally unable to see.

Someone took her hand. She knew instantly it was
Jefri
and she allowed him to lead her toward the restaurant. She had a sense of the crowd pressing close.

People called out questions, but she couldn’t discern one voice from another.

Stay calm, she told herself. Think happy thoughts. She didn’t want to see herself with a “deer in the headlights” expression on the front of some supermarket tabloid.

They made their way into the restaurant with only a few more flashes in her face. Once inside, the elegant and quiet atmosphere instantly calmed her.

“Prince
Jefri
,” the maître d’ said with a smile. “Thank you for dining with us this evening. We have your table ready.”

Jefri
nodded for her to follow the man. She leaned close and whispered, “What? They’re not going to put our names on a sheet of paper and then call out when our table is ready?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Restaurants do that?”

She grinned. “You need to get out more.”

He chuckled and took her hand.

Billie liked the way he laced his fingers with hers as they walked into the dining room. They wove through the well-dressed patrons seated at beautifully set tables. The smell of the food made her mouth water.

“Will this be acceptable?” the man asked.

“It’s fine—”
Jefri
started before Billie interrupted with a soft shriek.

She stared at the table next to the empty one where the maître d’ held out a chair.

“You’re not here,” she said, both furious and humiliated.

Doyle picked up his glass of wine in a salute. “Hey, kid. You should try the house salad. It’s really good and you know I’m not much of a salad guy.”

She couldn’t believe it. Her brother? Here?

“You have no right to do this,” she told him, careful to keep her voice low.

“Is there a problem?”
Jefri
asked.

“Yes. Him.” Billie pointed at Doyle and wished she could incinerate him with her gaze. “He’s spying on us.”