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.”
“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 known 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.