Fit for a King

“You’re from Oklahoma, you said?” she asked, curious.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“I’m from Florida,” she said with a smile. “I design sportswear for a chain of boutiques.” She peeked up at him. “I could design you a great sun dress.”

He glowered at her. “First the parrot, now this. I don’t know which is worse, lady, you or the last woman who lived here.”

“The woman I bought the cottage from?” she recalled, frowning. “What was wrong with her?”

“She liked to sunbathe nude when I was swimming,” he muttered darkly.

She grinned, remembering the woman very well. She was about fifty years old, at least a size twenty and only five feet tall.

“It’s not funny,” he commented.

“Yes, it is.” She laughed.

But he still didn’t smile. Despite his earlier flip remarks, he looked like a man who hadn’t much use for humor.

“I’ve got three hours of work left before I can sleep,” he said curtly, turning away. “From now on, cover that bird when he starts whooping. He’ll get the message sooner or later. And don’t keep him up late. It isn’t good for him. Birds need twelve hours each of daylight and dark.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Anything else, sir?” she asked pertly as she skipped along beside him to the door.

He stopped short, his dark eyes threatening. “How old are you, anyway? Past the age of consent?”

“I’m a candidate for the old folks’ home, in fact.” She grinned. “I’m pushing twenty-six. Still about twenty years your junior, though, I’ll bet, old man.”

He looked stunned, as if no one had ever dared speak to him in such a manner. “I’m thirty-nine,” he said absently.

“You look more like forty-five.” She sighed, studying his hard, care-creased face. “I’ll bet you take five-hour vacations and count your money every night. You have that look, you know.” His eyebrows shot up, and she wiggled hers. “Rich and miserable?”

“I’m filthy rich, but I’m not miserable.”

“Yes, you are,” she told him. “You just don’t realize it. But don’t worry. Now that I’m around, I’ll save you from yourself. In no time you’ll be a new man.”

“I like me fine the way I am,” he said tersely, glaring down at her. “So don’t pester me. I don’t care to be remodeled, least of all by some bored textile worker.”

“I’m a designer,” she shot back.

“You can’t possibly be old enough.” He patted her on the head, the first glimpse of real humor she’d seen in him. “Go to bed, child.”

“Mind you don’t trip over your long beard, Grandpa,” she called after him.

He didn’t look back or say another word. He just kept walking.

And that had been the beginning of an odd friendship. In the months that followed, Elissa had learned precious few actual facts about her taciturn neighbor, but she’d gleaned a great deal about his temperament. His full name was Kingston, and no one called him King. Except Elissa. He spent most of his waking hours on business. Although he traveled extensively, his home base was Jamaica because few people except those who really needed to, knew how to get in touch with him there. He liked his privacy and avoided the social gatherings that seemed de rigueur for the Americans in their exclusive part of Montego Bay. He kept to himself and spent his rare free time walking on the beach, alone and apparently liking it. He might have gone on for years that way. But Elissa had saved him from himself.

Although she didn’t trust most men, she instinctively trusted King. He seemed totally uninterested in her as a woman, and when weeks went by without his making a suggestive remark or a pass, she began to feel totally safe with him. That allowed her to indulge her fantasy of being the sophisticated, worldly kind of woman she liked to read about in novels. It was an illusion, of course, but King didn’t seem to mind her outrageous flirting and sometimes suggestive remarks. He treated her much like a young girl, alternately indulging and teasing her. And that was fine with Elissa. She’d long since learned that she wouldn’t fit easily into the modern world. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep with a man just because it was the fashion. And since most men she dated expected that courtesy, she simply withdrew. She never took a date home—not anymore, at least. There had been a nice man when she was twenty. A real jewel, she’d thought—until she took him home to meet Mom and Dad. She’d never seen him again.

For all her religious outlook on life, her parents were characters. Her father collected lizards, and her mother was a special deputy with the sheriff’s department. Odd people. Lovely but very odd. Since she’d given up on expecting tolerance from the opposite sex, she couldn’t imagine a male friend really understanding her delightful family. So it was a good thing she’d decided to die a virgin.

Fortunately, King had no designs on her whatsoever, so he was good company and a hedge against other men when she was on the island. He was the perfect safe harbor. Not only that, but he needed a little attention to keep him from becoming a hermit. And who better to draw him out than Elissa, given her somewhat evangelical background?

At first she contented herself with leaving little notes for him to find, exhorting pithy things like “Too much loneliness makes a man odd” or “Sunstroke can be hazardous to your health.” She put the notes on his front door, on the windshield of his car, even under the rock where he liked to sit and watch the sunset. From there, she took bolder steps. She baked things for him. She put flowers on his doorstep.

Eventually, he came over to tell her to stop—and found her waiting for him with an elaborate meal. Clearly it was the last straw, and he gave up trying to ignore her. After that, he came to eat at least once a week, and sometimes they walked on the beach together. Despite her outgoing approach, she was a little wary of him at first, until he proved by his attitude that he wasn’t going to try to get her into the nearest available bed. And then he became her friend. She totally relaxed with him and looked forward to their times together. He seemed pleased enough with that arrangement himself, talking to her as if she were a sister.

When she went back to the States to work, he generously offered to keep Warchief. She’d been delighted, and King had given the bird a nice substitute home. When he was out of the country on business, he even hired a woman to look after the house and the bird. For all his hardness, he had a soft center—if one looked closely enough. He was still impatient and demanding with most people—Elissa had once had her ears curled listening to him chew out a subordinate—but he seemed to tolerate her better than he tolerated others.

The only puzzling thing about him was his lack of a love life. He was devastatingly handsome and physically near perfect. At his age, she’d have expected him to be married. But he wasn’t and evidently never had been. He dated occasionally, but Elissa never spotted him bringing a woman home overnight. Even in her innocence Elissa knew it was rather unusual for a man who was so much a man to spend so much time alone. She wondered about it frequently, and once she even got up enough courage to quiz him on the subject. But his face had closed up, and he’d changed the subject. She hadn’t asked again.

Despite her innate curiosity, she was relieved that he’d never once made a pass at her. She had some hang-ups from an experience that her parents didn’t even know about, thank God. One wild party, attended without their knowledge, had cured her of any wanton imaginings. She’d barely escaped with her innocence intact, and she’d gleaned a very unpleasant, threatening picture of the aroused male. She’d been careful ever since.

She was only grateful that her parents weren’t in any danger of dropping in at the Roper villa. If they’d seen her in King’s bed … Then she laughed, remembering how they were. They knew her so well that they’d have asked what was the joke. How marvelous having parents like hers, idiosyncracies and all.

King was due any minute, and Elissa’s part in this practical joke was simply to lie back and look loved. She wasn’t sure why he wanted to give that impression, or to whom, but he’d once saved her from the unwanted attention of a very persistent insurance salesman, so now she was saving him. From something. Really, though, he was going to owe her a steak dinner for all this bother.

She heard the front door open, and voices drifted down the hall. She recognized King’s, and for one wild second she let herself pretend that she was waiting for him as a lover. The thought didn’t terrify her, and that puzzled her. In fact, her body began to tingle in the oddest ways, and that really puzzled her.

Then the bedroom door opened, and King stared at her over the head of the most beautiful blonde Elissa had ever seen.

The blonde wore a look of helpless longing and unholy torment. And King’s expression was a revelation as he glanced down at her. For a face that rarely gave away a trace of emotion, it was suddenly explicit with tender interest. Who was the woman? Elissa wondered. And why would King want to discourage her when he was so obviously attracted to her?

Elissa was so confused that she almost forgot to play her part. This vulnerability in King was so expected. But there must be a reason he wanted that lovely woman with him to think he was involved with someone else, and this was obviously no time to ask questions.

“Well, hello, darling,” Elissa said in her best husky voice. She tugged the covers up demurely and yawned delicately. “I fell asleep again,” she added meaningfully, and she waited for the blonde to react.

Chapter Two

The reaction was almost instantaneous. “Oh!” The woman faltered, stopping beside King as if frozen to the spot. She stared at Elissa with huge, soft eyes, clearly struggling to find words, and her delicate skin colored, making her even more beautiful. “Ex-excuse me.”

“I didn’t expect you to still be here, Elissa,” King said with a smile that was obviously forced.

Elissa played her part to perfection, letting her eyes droop sleepily. “I’m sorry if I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“Don’t be absurd,” he replied. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t stay if you like. Bess, do you mind …?” he asked the blonde. “There’s a guest bathroom just down the hall.”

“I’ll … I’ll use that one, of course.” She looked totally flustered, Elissa noted sympathetically. “Excuse me,” she whispered, her voice almost breaking. She turned and nearly ran down the hall.

King closed the door and leaned back against it, his face without expression, his dark eyes looking at Elissa without really seeming to see her. He never gave away much, but that hard face was faintly pale under its rugged tan.

Elissa climbed out of bed, oblivious to her state of undress. He wasn’t looking, anyway. He paid very little attention to her as a rule, and if she’d wondered why in the past, she now had a suspicion. She went to stand in front of him, her head back, her eyes curious.

“Okay,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me all about it? I’m a clam when I need to be, and you look as if you need a friend pretty badly.”

His jaw tightened. He looked down into her blue eyes, and she could see his control waver, just for an instant, before he got it back. “That’s Bess,” he said finally. “My brother’s wife,” he added significantly. After a pause, he continued tonelessly, “He’ll be along in an hour or so; he’s still in a business meeting.”

She remembered his mentioning Bobby and Bess, and she also remembered that he never talked much about them. Now she had a sneaking hunch she knew why. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his look of utter dejection.