The Prince of Pleasure (8 page)

"Oh, that's brilliant! You can reach him in a second. What about how long it would take him to get to you? What about his being around to protect you? What about—"

"Nothing will happen to me." He smiled, traced the fullness of her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "You are the only danger I face." His voice grew husky. "And that is the kind of danger that pleases me."

"Don't try to change the subject," she said, but her tone softened. "If something were to happen to you…"

Her voice trailed away. He felt his heart lift.

"Trust me, sweetheart. I'll be fine. But it means everything to me that you care."

He framed her face with his hands, lowered his head to hers and gave her a long, teasing kiss. She sighed, kissed him back…

And caught her breath as she leaned into him.

"Uh oh," she whispered.

He grinned. "Is that all you can say when a man shows you how glad he is to have you in his arms?"

She gave a sexy little shift of her hips.

"You're impossible."

"Anything is possible," he said solemnly. "For instance…"

He moved. Her lashes fell to her cheeks.

"Oh," she whispered, "oh, that's –that's—"

"Yes. It certainly is."

"You said—mmm—you said you had an appointment…"

"I do. With a realtor. Caleb set it up. She's going to show me a couple of rentals so I can get out of that hotel. And before you ask, Jamal approves. For all I know, he might install a metal detector at the door and turn a pair of fierce dogs loose in the living room."

"Good. That's good. You'll be safe and—and—don't do that," she murmured. "Khan. Don't do—"

"This?"

His mouth was at her throat, his hand between her thighs.

"Oh," she whispered, "oh…"

She was breathing fast, as if she were running a marathon. If the rapidly accelerating beat of his heart was any indication, he was going to make that run with her.

"You want to know another excellent thing about being a prince?" He bent his head to her breast, sucked the furled crest into the heat of his mouth. "I don't have to worry about being late for appointments."

"No?"

"No," he said, and he tumbled her back on the bed.

********

They showered. Dressed. Agreed nobody could possibly start a day without caffeine. While Laurel made coffee, Khan phoned the realtor and explained he'd be a little late. 

"Is she okay with that?" Laurel asked as she took a pair of hand-thrown mugs from the cabinet over the stove.

"Of course."

Laurel flashed him a look and he raised both hands in a gesture of surrender.

"You are right. I must learn not to take such things for granted."

"Being modest and humble are virtues."

He could hear the laughter in her voice. He caught her around the waist and kissed the tip of her nose.

"I had a British nanny who used to say things like that."

"See what a small world it is? My Texas mama used to say things like that, too."

"You say that as if she's gone," Khan said softly.

Laurel nodded. "She is."

"Ah, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Me, too," she said, with a little smile. "I loved her like crazy." She gave him a quick kiss, moved out of his arms, took a package of bagels from the fridge and popped two halves in  the toaster. "What's it like to have a nanny?"

"Depends on the nanny. Some were kind. Some were not. Some ignored me." He grinned. "Those were the ones I liked best."

"Did you get to spend much time with your parents?"

He shrugged. "My mother died when I was little. My father was a man of tradition. He had a country to run."

Laurel looked at him. His tone was casual. Too casual. She suspected the subject was painful for him.

"Not the best childhood in the world," she said carefully.

A muscle in his jaw flickered.

"No. But not the worst, either."

"A pragmatist," she said, to lighten things.

"And one who can butter bagels," he said, for the same reason.

She smiled, handed him the butter and a knife.

"We'll see."

"I," he said, with exaggerated dignity, "am an excellent bagel butterer. In fact, I am an excellent maker of breakfasts."

"You are, huh?"

"I did a lot of cooking when I was at college. Well, not a lot. But enough. Why are you staring at me? Ah. You think I went to school accompanied by a small army of servants."

'Well, no. I just didn't imagine you…" Laurel raised her eyebrows. "A man of many parts."

Khan grabbed her, bent her back over his arm.

"All parts that are hungry for you," he said, and kissed her.

Sighing, she wound her arms around his neck as he brought her slowly upright.

"So," she said softly, "I have a lot to learn about you."

"You mean the me who isn't a dictator?" She would have said something but he put a finger over her lips. "Don't apologize. It is good you said it. You reminded me that I have to find ways to let people know more about me and my country."

She smiled. "I like the way you're letting me get to know more about you."

"Like the fact that I am an excellent maker of breakfasts?"

"So you claim."

His smile tilted.

"I'll prove it to you, tomorrow. Either here, or at whatever place it is I rent today."

Her heart kicked against her ribs. She thought of ways to ask him exactly what that mean, and then she thought, no, to hell with that.

Honesty. Wasn't that what she'd decided on? So she took a steadying breath and looked into his eyes.

"Are you asking me to spend tonight with you?"

"No," he said huskily, "I am not asking. I am telling you." He reached out and gathered her in his arms. "Spend the day with me. And the night. And tomorrow. … What?"

What, indeed?

He wanted to have an affair. There was no reason not to go along with it. She liked being with him. He was fun. He was smart. 

And then there was the way he was in bed.

But he would leave Dallas soon.

Then, what?

She had not thought that way in the past. She'd known, going in, that her prior relationships would wind down, given enough time; why would that have been a problem? She was dedicated to her career. Commitment took time, effort, it wasn't in her plans.

And yet, the thought of being with Khan and then giving him up…

"Do you not wish to be with me?"

She blinked; her eyes felt strangely blurred. She looked up into her lover's wonderful face, and smiled.

"There it is. Your accent. Getting more pronounced—"

"Stay with me," he said, with a fierceness that she felt in her bones. "I want you with me, Laurel. Tell me it is what you want, too."

 She clasped his face between her hands, rose to him, planted a kiss on his lips.

"It's what I want, too," she whispered. "More than anything in the world."

He groaned, lowered his head, and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Damn that appointment."

"You have to keep it. You have to get out of that hotel."

"Yes. I know." Reluctantly, he let go of her. "All right. Drink your coffee. Eat your bagel." He checked his Rolex. "God, I'm late again." He looked at her; shot her that grin she was coming to love. "It isn't a problem. I'll just point to you and explain that you are the cause."

"Point to me? But—"

"You're coming with me." His eyes swept over her, his gaze finally rising to meet hers. "You're going to spend a lot of time in my new home,
shalal
," he said softly. "Don't you think it matters that it should be a place that is to your liking?"

She smiled. Then she turned away and busied herself with nonsense like getting out the cream.

Otherwise, she was afraid she might tell her lover something foolish…

Something that would sound an awful lot like the frightening admission that being with him, anywhere, was rapidly becoming the only thing that mattered.

The realtor's name was Adele Simpson.

She was a middle-aged woman with a handsome office and a determined attitude.

Khan liked her on sight, especially when she greeted him not with a dip of the knee but with a firm handshake. .

"Your highness. I'm delighted to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure is mine," he said politely. He put his arm lightly around Laurel's waist and drew her forward. "This is Ms. Cruz."

The realtor smiled and held out her hand. "How do you do, Ms. Cruz?

"It's Laurel. And it's very nice to meet you."

"And I'm Adele." The realtor nodded to a pair of chairs drawn up before her desk. "Please. Sit down. May I offer you some coffee? Tea? Water?"

Khan drew out Laurel's chair, lightly touched her shoulder, then took the remaining chair for himself.

"Nothing, thank you. And thank you, too, for meeting with me on such short notice."

"Not at all, sir. I've known Caleb Wilde for years. He explained this was a matter of some urgency."

"Well, I don't know that I'd call it urgent, exactly. I'm at the Desert Oasis Hotel—"

"An excellent accommodation."

"Yes—but there are privacy issues. Security concerns."

"I understand. It isn't easy for someone like you to maintain a low profile in a public setting."

It was a perfect summation. Khan felt himself start to relax. 

"You're correct, Ms. Simpson."

"Adele, remember? Caleb tells me you want something fully furnished, well-equipped, and secure. Does that sum it up?"

"The house, the apartment, whatever I rent must also have sufficient space for some of my staff."

Adele Simpson nodded, jotted down some notes.

"Of course. Secretaries, personal assistants…"

"Security personnel," Khan said bluntly, knowing that Jamal would insist upon their presence.

"Of course. So… perhaps a place with two wings, one for your staff, and one for you, sir, to assure you'd have privacy…?"

She looked from him to Laurel, her smile still pleasant, but suddenly he could see a dozen questions in her eyes.

Questions, he suspected, about Laurel.

Questions she was too professional to ask.

Dammit!

Of course, he should have thought of this! 

In his eagerness to keep Laurel with him, he'd completely overlooked the possible ramifications of this visit.

Hadn't he just thought about that, a little over an hour ago? That is was one thing to have cameras focused on him but that the last thing he wanted was to put his lover in the media's hungry path?

And then there was the blonde… What could you call the woman except a stalker? No way would he want to draw her attention to Laurel.

What was wrong with him? Where was all that clarity of thought and purpose by which he lived his life?

Khan cleared his throat.

"Adele." He paused. His staff generally handled things like this. They, or at least, his P.A., dealt with, well, they dealt with the basics. They ensured that things were done when they needed doing.

The simple truth was that he  owned a  mews house  in London, a penthouse in Manhattan, a ranch back home and another in Brazil, as well as his newest acquisition, a private island in the Caribbean—and yet, this was the  first time in all his life he'd spoken with a realtor. 

Perhaps he was not quite as much in touch with the real world as he liked to think.

"Prince Khan? Was there something else?"

He nodded.

"There is, indeed. I must demand your complete discretion. About me, my life, everything and anything that involves me…" He reached for Laurel's hand. "I especially require total discretion regarding those who—who matter to me."

Oh, hell.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurel wince. Because of what he'd said about her mattering to him? No. Something else. The realtor's spine had gone so rigid it could have substituted for a yardstick.

He looked at Laurel. Could she see the word 'Help' blinking on and off in his eyes?

"Lord Khan." Laurel said softly. "I'm sure you don't have to worry about requesting Adele's cooperation."

She'd put a slight emphasis on the word, 'requesting.' It puzzled him for a couple of seconds, and then he realized that he'd said 'require'. Hell. He'd also used the word, 'demand'.

What a time to fall into the nonsensical royal imperative.

Now what?

"Ms. Cruz is correct, sir. I assure you that I am accustomed to working with clients who have every reason to expect the absolute silence of those who work for them. In fact, if you have any concerns that I cannot provide you with—"

"No," he said quickly, and cleared his throat. "That is, I'm sure you can. I only meant—"

Laurel squeezed his hand.

"He only meant," she said, with an easy smile, "that the recent intrusions into the private lives of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge—you know, Wills and Kate—have made everyone edgy."

Wills and Kate?

Khan blinked. His thoughts spun. In a couple of sentences, Laurel had turned royal protocol on its ear.

For openers, he'd never have referred to the heir to the British throne and his bride so familiarly when talking to a stranger.

 It just wasn't done.

But there was more to it than that.

Laurel had interrupted him in mid-sentence. And she had not just interrupted him, she had tried to explain him.

What for?

He was—well, he was the prince. The king. He did not have to explain himself, ever, and surely no one ever had the guts to do it for him…

Except the beautiful, tough, not-easily-impressed woman sitting next to him.

Had they been alone, he'd have hauled her into his arms and kissed her. Instead, he cleared his throat. Again. He was becoming expert at it.

"Precisely," he said. "I couldn't have put it better myself." His lips twitched. "We were all most distressed by what happened to Wills and Kate."

Adele's frozen expression relaxed.

"Of course. Who wouldn't be? I assure you, your highness, we have never done anything to violate a client's privacy, and we never will."

"Of course," he echoed, and paused. "If that offer is still open, Adele, I would be delighted to have some coffee. I'm sure Ms. Cruz—Laurel—would be, as well."

"Excellent, sir. There's nothing like breaking bread to establish a solid relationship."

"Or drinking coffee," Laurel said brightly.

Everyone smiled, and Adele hurried out of her office.

Khan took Laurel's hand and brought it to his lips.

"Thank you," he said in a low voice.

"Well, somebody had to toss the Emperor of the Universe a lifeline."

Laughter danced in her eyes. He flashed a quick grin. Then he sighed.

"Clearly, I am not quite the man of the people I believe myself to be."

"What matters is that you're a man your people admire. And respect. And love." She squeezed his hand. "And you were doing pretty well," she said softly, "for a man who, I bet, never did this kind of one-on-one before."

"It showed, huh?"

"Maybe a little." She paused. "What showed, too, is that you wanted to protect me."

"Yes," he said, a little gruffly. "I wanted you to spend the day with me and I never stopped to think that dragging you into my life—"

"You're not 'dragging' me into your life." 

"No?"

"No." She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I wanted to come with you. To be with you. To—to—"

"Here we are," Adele Simpson said cheerfully. A young man followed in her footsteps, carrying a tray topped with a silver coffee service and delicate china cups and saucers. "We can look over some information I've prepared while we enjoy our coffee."

Khan nodded.

Something had just happened.

The only question was, what?

********

She had three properties to show them.

"I have others, but I think these would best suit your needs, your highness, in terms of space, privacy, location, and availability. You did say you'd like to make a move ASAP?."

"I would, indeed."

"Well, you can move into any one of these places immediately. I've taken the liberty of checking into household staffing with an agency we've used many times in the past, and I've been assured that we can arrange for a housekeeper, cook, maids, butler, whatever,  at a moment's notice."

An hour later, they had seen a town house in Turtle Creek and removed it from the list. Khan was trying not to think about Jamal, who would surely be furious at his men for letting their prince leave them behind last night,  but Jamal was the first thing he thought of when they saw the house.

He would surely find it too exposed.

The second rental was a spacious condominium, not far from the town house.

Khan said it was handsome. He was going to add that there were too many entrances to the building, but he didn't have to.

Laurel did it for him.

"I bet your security guy will say there are too many ways in and out."

What his security guy would say, Khan decided, was that his
shalal
was an amazing woman. Too bad he wouldn't have the chance to meet her…

But he would.

Once he found the right place, he'd move in. Today. Which meant that Laurel would stay with him.

She'd be with him for the rest of the week.

Or two weeks.

She would be with him until he left for home, and that was the thing about business deals. Nobody could predict how long it might take to conclude negotiations.

For all he knew, he thought, as he held Laurel back for a quick kiss before they followed Adele Simpson back to her BMW, two weeks might stretch into three.

Or even four.

*******

They had only one more property to see.

The realtor predicted it would be perfect, excused herself, and stepped out of the car to take a phone call.

  Khan decided to prove he could still exercise some diplomatic skill and not say that he didn't think it would be anything approaching perfect.

From what he'd seen in a glossy photo, she was taking them to a house that was a cross between Tara and Versailles. Big, which was good. Seven bedrooms and baths. That was good, too. A dining room that seated twenty. Even better, considering the need to staff it with Jamal's men.

But it was ugly, which was bad.

The exterior photos showed porticos and colonnades and balconies and what could only be described as gingerbread.

Still, this was temporary. Assuming it met the necessary security requirements, he could tolerate it for—for however long his work kept him here.

He glanced at Laurel, seated next to him, and reached for her hand.

"A day spent looking at real estate," he said softly, and smiled. "Not exactly exciting, hmm?"

"Oh, it's fun. Seeing all these neighborhoods, walking through other peoples' lives… I mean, that's what it is, isn't it? "

"I never thought of it that way but yes, you're right, that's what it is."

"It reminds me of when I got out of law school. I'd been living in dorms for so long that looking for a place of my own was incredibly exciting!"

"Was that when you found the flat you live in now?"

"Are you kidding?" She laughed. "I had something like eighty dollars in my bank account, and enough student loan debt to keep me a pauper for the next twenty years."

"But you had a job with the senator waiting for you."

She shook her head.

"I went to work for
La Verdad."
She smiled. "I loved it, but I can't say it did much for my finances."

"La Verdad?"

"It means 'the truth,' in Spanish."

"I know what it means, but what is it?"

"It's a group that provides legal services to the poor, mostly to Hispanics. I'd worked with the Justice Project while I was in law school, and
La Verdad
seemed a natural extension of that." Her gaze met his. "My father was Mexican."

Khan heard the touch of defiance in her voice.

"And a good thing he was," he said lightly, "or where would you have gotten all those beautiful dark curls and skin the color of
café au lait
?"

A smile curved her mouth. She leaned against him; he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

""You would have liked my
papa
," she said softly." He was a lot like you. Tough on the outside, marshmallow on the inside."

Khan chuckled.

"I have been called lots of things, sweetheart
,
but never a marshmallow." He lifted her face to his. "So, he is gone, the same as your mother?"

Laurel nodded. "He worked in a convenience store. You know what that is?"

"Sure. Open 24/7, a place where neighborhood people can buy newspapers, groceries, odds and ends."

"Right." She hesitated; her lovely eyes darkened. "He was killed in a robbery."

"Ah, Laurel, I'm so sorry."

"It was hard. I was thirteen and I missed him terribly but my mother couldn't—she couldn't accept his loss. She sort of escaped into a world of her own and then, a few years later, she died."

"How old were you when you lost her?"

"Seventeen."

"Someone in your family took you in?"

She shook her head. "There was no one."

Seventeen. And all alone in the world. Surely, being raised by nannies and a father who hardly knew you were alive was preferable.

Khan drew her closer.

"What happened to you?" he said quietly.

"I had myself declared an emancipated minor. Well, the legal term is different than that, in Texas, but that's what it came down to. I doubled up on all my courses, graduated six months early from high school, got into the University of Texas."

"And then law school." Khan shook his head. "All on your own. Incredible."

"Right time, right place, lots of luck," she said, dismissing what he knew were amazing accomplishments with an easy smile.