Her Royal Bed (5 page)

J
ane hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the night before. She hadn't danced into the wee hours with her heels in one hand and the palm of a gorgeous man in the other. And yet, she felt as though she was suffering the worst hangover of her life.

Was it possible to get drunk on confusion and disappointment?

Jane rolled to her back and faced the morning sun that slammed into her bedroom with ferocious intensity. Much like a spotlight, she mused glumly. She had come to Texas in hopes of redefining her future, but eleven days ago a major roadblock had been thrust out in front of her in the glorious shape of a six-foot-three cowboy. The truth of it was, she was still intrigued by him, attracted to him. She still liked him—a lot—de
spite the feud between him and her brother. But if she pursued her desires, regardless of what she'd heard and seen last night, would both Bobby and her brother reject her?

She closed her eyes and sighed. At this point, she realized dolefully, she couldn't decide whose rejection would pain her the most.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she unfolded the covers and pushed her tired self out of bed as she called, “Come in.”

Sakir and Rita's housekeeper, a very serious-looking woman in her mid-fifties entered the room, too perfectly starched and coifed for 8:00 a.m. She inclined her head. “Good morning, Miss Al-Nayhal.”

Jane smiled at the older woman as she reached for her robe. “Good morning, Marian. Would you please call me Jane?”

“His Highness wouldn't like that.”

Jane pulled the belt of her white robe with a little too much force. “We don't have to tell him.”

The woman frowned deeply, and ignored Jane's comment. “You have a phone call, Miss.”

Jane glanced over her shoulder, her gaze settling on the nightstand where she expected to see a telephone. But oddly, there wasn't one. She hadn't noticed this before, and thought it strange in an enormous house like this that guest rooms weren't equipped with phones.

Seeming to read her thoughts, Marian simply said, “Mrs. Al-Nayhal hasn't had time to install telephones in every room.”

“Of course not,” said Jane, feeling sheepish, her toes
sinking into the thick cream carpeting. “With the new baby and all.”

Marian neither agreed nor disagreed with this. Instead she thrust the cordless phone at Jane, who took it from her with another quick, “Thank you.”

After a pert nod, the older woman turned on her perfectly polished black shoes and left the room.

Wondering if whoever was calling her still remained on the line after all of that nonsense, Jane cradled the phone to her ear and said hopefully, “Hello?”

“Well, that was one helluva party last night, wasn't it?”

Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she actually felt herself beam with pleasure and relief. The rough timbre of his voice, edged with that slow charm made her smile, made her recall their first night together. She was surprised by the intense reaction, albeit a little worried about this undeniable need she had to hear his voice again.

“One helluva party?” she repeated with a trace of sarcasm. “I suppose. If you like a little conflict with your barbecue.”

His chuckle lacked real mirth. “Yeah, well, we took things too far.”

“You and Sakir, you mean?”

He paused, then sighed. “It's all water under the bridge now.”

“Is it?” she asked in a small voice. The way Bobby had glared at Sakir last night suggested the opposite.

“It has to be. We both have to get over all this past BS.” She could practically hear him shrug. “Well, I do anyway.”

Not that she didn't want him to feel this magnanimous spirit, but she couldn't help wondering how, after such a display of hatred last night, he could make such a turnaround. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“This feud is getting in the way of something real important.”

“What's that?”

“Me asking you out.”

Jane grinned gleefully, and snuggled her ear closer into the phone. This was an answer she liked. “Would it appear too desperate to say that I'm really glad you called?”

He laughed, and the sound was genuine this time, not forced. “No, darlin'. Sounds honest.”

“Honest is good.” The simple phrase was a mantra for Jane, had been ever since she could remember. Even as a child, her mother had always led her to believe that honesty was the only way to live her life. Painful or painfree. Ironic as her mother was holding onto a very deep secret regarding Jane's father during that time.

“Pick you up in an hour?”

Bobby's query shot her back into reality, and she muttered swiftly, “I'm sorry, what?”

“I said I'll come by, pick you up in an hour,” he repeated.

She glanced at the clock, then down at her robe. “It's only eight o'clock.”

“All right,” he acquiesced with a trace of mock annoyance. “Two hours.”

“So bossy,” she chided playfully. “And would you like to tell me what to wear, as well, Mr. Callahan?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Damn right I would, but with the suggestion I'd make you might just get arrested the minute you step out your front door.”

She laughed. “Casual elegant, it is then.”

“Fine,” he muttered dolefully.

“Are we really going to do this, Bobby? Are we really going to
date
after…well, after last week?”

“You bet. And we're going to do it the right way.”

“The right way?”

“Hand-holding, then maybe a kiss or two…we're going slowly this time.”

Little shots of thrill twirled in her belly, and she leaned closer to the phone, her lips brushing over the receiver, her mind conjuring images of that sweet, soft kiss. “Like courting?”

“Sure, but I won't be asking your brother for permission.”

“No.” His shot of cold humor put a slight damper on her romantic feeling, but she brushed it away.

“See you in an hour?”

“I thought you said two.”

“I don't want to wait that long. Do you?”

“No.” The excitement that ran a marathon through her blood mingled irritatingly with caution, brought on by last night, and her judgment and blind hope that he was trustworthy.

“Bye, darlin'”

“Bye.” As Jane hung up the phone, slipped out of her robe and headed for the bathroom, she wondered what she was in for downstairs. She wondered if her brother would raise holy hell when he found out what she was doing.

But as soon as she stepped under the hot spray of the shower, she let her mind fall to more appealing queries, such as what delights awaited her on her first real date with Bobby Callahan.

 

Forty minutes later, down in Sakir's very masculine, very brown leather-and mahogany-paneled library, Jane got the answer to her first question.

Not
holy hell,
but definite displeasure.

“He is using you, Jane.”

Dressed in a white kaftan, her brother looked impenetrable and uncompromising sitting behind his desk.

Jane stood before him wearing a pale-green sweater, white jeans and a determined set to her chin. “I don't think so, Sakir, but even if that were true, it's my choice to make.”

“Rita has told me that she spoke to you regarding the history of Bobby Callahan and myself.”

“Yes.”

“The man will do anything to get back at me, including hurting the members of my family, I am certain of it.” He leaned forward, lifted his brows. “He despises me that much.”

“Does he have a right to?” The question fell from her mouth without thought, and she quickly added, “In the short time I've gotten to know you, I see a great man, an honorable, caring man. But we all do things that live in the gray. Was this deal with Callahan one of those moments?”

His mouth set in a thin line, Sakir uttered, “You ask your brother such a question?”

“I ask my brother for the truth, that's all.” She sighed,
sat in the chair opposite him and laid a hand over his. “I'm a big girl, Sakir. I can handle the truth. Whatever it is.”

The ire in his eyes and the tight expression of a businessman he wore, softened. “You will always receive the truth from me. Be assured of that.”

She offered him a gentle smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then exhaled heavily. “There was no maliciousness in the procurement of Bobby Callahan's land. After the drilling company left, the land was in a bad state. They had dug and torn the soil and spilled oil everywhere. It was an environmental nightmare. The elder Callahan could not care for, or repair, the property, and the bank was foreclosing. If it had not been I who made the purchase, it would have been someone else. And I have no doubt that buyer would not have been as generous in the end.”

“You're talking about how you allowed Bobby to buy back a few acres of the land?”

“Correct. I am sorry about his father's death, but the anger he has for me is misplaced. And his unreasonable manner and quick anger make him dangerous.”

“That's ridiculous,” Jane tossed out, but in the back of her mind she couldn't help but wonder. Her stomach tightened with worry, and the reaction irritated her no end.

“You saw him last night,” Sakir continued. “He was acting like a madman.”

“He was angry, and he clearly holds a grudge the size of Texas against you. But a madman? No way.”

“I will not allow you to walk into that fire, Jane.”

She slipped her hand from his and laughed. “Allow me?”

It had been close to ten years since she'd heard words like that, and even then she'd rejected them. Most of the time. Coming from a man, a command such as this one really made her blood simmer. After all, she'd had no father, no male figure of authority in her life, and she wasn't looking for one now.

Leaning back in his chair, Sakir stared at her, his eyebrows set. “You must understand. You are Al-Nayhal. You are my sister, and I—” He broke off, looking rather embarrassed, but continued at any rate. “I have come to care for you a great deal.”

An understanding smile nudged at the corner of her mouth. Clearly, it was far easier for her to show emotion than Sakir. “I love you, too, big brother.”

“I do not want to see you hurt. Can you not understand this?”

“Of course.”

“Then you will abide by my decision.”

“No.” She wasn't about to roll over and play the “little sister,” no matter what judgments Sakir had made about Bobby's motives in asking her out.

“You are as stubborn as my wife,” Sakir grumbled.

She laughed and stood. “Thank you. I take that as a compliment. Rita's wonderful.”

“Yes.”

“Listen, I've been making my own choices for ten years now, and I've done a pretty good job of it.” She walked around his desk, leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Trust me, okay?”

His gaze found hers, and there was unabashed worry there. “It is Bobby Callahan I do not trust.”

The doorbell rang just then, and Jane offered Sakir one last, faith-inducing smile before she turned her back on him and left the room.

 

If it were possible, Jane looked even more beautiful in a pair of form-fitting white jeans than she had in all that finery she'd worn the first night they'd met. Course, that could be just his taste, Bobby thought, shoving his truck into third as he shot up Hollyhock Drive. Sure, he liked dresses on a woman, but nothing could beat denim on curves.

Forcing his gaze onto the road and away from her slim thighs, he asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

“You hardly gave me time,” she replied, a smile in her voice.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, you're not.”

He turned to her, grinned sinfully. “No, I'm not. I wanted to see you.”

A slight pink blush crept up her neck, matching the haze around the morning sun before them. Bobby thought it was just about the sexiest sight he'd ever seen, and he wondered if he'd be able to pull this off—stay unaffected with this woman.

“So,” she said, tugging him from his thoughts. “Where are we going?”

“A great place with real Texas ambiance and one helluva chef.”

“Sounds good.”

But when they turned into a driveway marked Private Property and drove through a set of weathered iron gates
emblazoned with the letters
KC
Jane turned to him, her dark eyebrows raised. “What are the specials today, chef?”

He chuckled. “Bacon, eggs, maybe a slice or two of toast if I manage not to burn it.”

Her gaze shifted to the landscape around his home. The pasture land, grazing horses, miles of sky above. No matter what the size of his property now, Bobby thought with a deep sense of melancholy, it was still home and it always felt right to be there.

She turned back to him. “Breakfast at your house. That's pretty intimate.” Her full lips curved up at the corners. “And I thought we were taking things slow.”

Bobby just grinned as he brought the truck to a dusty halt in front of his ranch house. The last thing he wanted with this woman was slow. Ever since they'd made love, he'd ached to touch her again, have her beneath him, on top of him, in front of him. But for his plan to come off, he needed to take his time, give her a little romance. Hell, he might even enjoy it.

He was quick to step out the driver's side and walk around the truck. He helped Jane out, then took her hand. “Well, I suppose I'd better admit it. I didn't bring you here
just
for breakfast.”

Mock shock settled over her features. “No kidding.”

“You implying I'm some kind of rogue cowboy?” Bobby asked lightly as they walked around the side of the house and down the stone pathway.

“I wouldn't dare.”

Shifting the Stetson on his head, he laughed. “Well, it'd be the truth, on most days.”