Desert Rogues Part 2 (42 page)

She couldn't imagine having that much history in one family. She got excited when she was able to stay in one place more than eight weeks.

“But you recovered to transgress another day,” she said.

“Sometimes I did not wait that long.” He smiled. “I liked to explore and I rarely followed the rules.”

“Something tells me you still don't.”

Instead of answering, he reached for her hand and took it in his. “Tell me what it was like when you were growing up. There was no king to make pronouncements.”

“Maybe not, but my dad was used to being in charge. With three boys to deal with, he had to be firm.”

Jefri rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand and made her skin tingle. “What about with you?”

“Until my mom died, she took care of disciplining me. I spent most of my time with her and we always got along. She used to say how as there were only two of us, we had to band together.”

She felt his gaze on her face. “You must have found her death very difficult.”

“I did. I was just about to enter the whole teenaged thing, when a girl really needs her mom. She had cancer, so there was some warning, but only a few weeks. By the time she realized she was sick, it was already too late. My folks had first started dating in high school and my mom once admitted they'd both been each other's first time. So when she got sick, my dad really freaked out.”

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.