might pack a
picnic lunch."
"You
on a picnic?" Bess murmured. "Do you go with or without your pocket
calculator?"
"Don't
be catty, you sweet little thing," Bobby said, chuckling.
"See you, Elissa. King will have to bring you out
sometime and show you the place."
"That would be nice," Elissa murmured politely.
Bess didn't say goodbye to
either of them, except to force a smile and wave as she walked ahead of Bobby down the terminal.
King watched her, his heart in
his eyes. Elissa couldn't bear that, so she
picked up her carryall and began to walk toward the exit.
"Where
the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, falling
into step beside her to reach for her bag with an impatient hand.
"Home,"
she replied. "There's no need for you to come with me. You're
perfectly safe now. You can check into a hotel somewhere and—"
"I said I'd take you
home," he reminded her, his tone cool
and authoritative. "Sit over there while I arrange about a car."
She did,
angrily, still wounded by having watched him with Bess. She had to get herself
under control,
she thought. It
wouldn't do to let him see how deeply involved with him she'd become.
She gave a
brief thought to her parents and how they were going to react to having
her home so unexpectedly. At least she didn't have to worry about King's
meeting them; he'd probably be glad to let her off at the gate of their modest house
outside Miami and rush off.
But when
King pulled up at her parents' beachfront house and surveyed
the surrounding dunes and the waves of the Atlantic rolling lazily to shore
behind it, he seemed in no hurry to leave. He gazed at the hibiscus
lining the front walk, along with the graceful palms and a banana
tree her mother had planted years before, took in the white front gate
and the lounge furniture on the porch and remarked, "It reminds me of your
cottage in Jamaica."
"They're similar. Well,
thanks for the ride." She started to
get out of the car, but he clasped her wrist, then her fingers.
His eyes were very dark,
looking into hers. Puz zled. Faintly
disturbed. "You've been quiet. Too quiet."
She
shifted restlessly. She didn't want him asking questions or making
assumptions. "My parents aren't expecting me," she muttered.
"I'm trying to figure out what to tell them."
"Tell
them a hurricane blew over your cottage," he suggested, tongue in cheek.
118
Diana
Palmer
Fitfor a
King
119
"What
a cheerful man you are," she replied, star ing at him. "Why don't you go into
comedy for a living?"
"Stop
fighting me," he murmured as she tugged against his firm but
gentle hold. "You'll hurt my ego."
"It
could stand a little deflation," she said crisply, glaring at him.
Comprehension took the playful
expression from his face, leaving his eyes
narrow and glittering. He dropped her
hand. "She can't help it any more than I can," he said, his tone cold and cutting.
"So
I noticed." She reached for the door handle. "Good thing for
you both that your half brother is blind as a bat and keeps his nose
stuck in his papers. Those quiet types are the ones who go for
their guns without asking for explanations. You and Bess would look
lousy on the front page of the tabloids, full of bullet holes."
"Would
we?" he asked with surprising mildness. "You seem to find
the idea satisfying."
She
grabbed her carryall and slammed the door, about to add something
cutting. But just as she opened her mouth, her mother, clad in a
flapping red-splashed muumuu, came rushing through the gate like a
barefooted, white-haired tornado.
"Darling!"
she enthused, grabbing her daughter up in a fierce hug, her
blue eyes dancing with glee. "Oh, what a delicious
surprise! Your father will be over-
joyed! He's just
bought another crawly for his collection and wants to show it off to someone—
Who are you?" she added, staring over Elissa's shoulder as King came around the car.
"Kingston
Roper," he answered easily, studying the tall, thin
woman. "You must be Elissa's mother."
"Yes,
I am. I'm
picnic lunch."
"You
on a picnic?" Bess murmured. "Do you go with or without your pocket
calculator?"
"Don't
be catty, you sweet little thing," Bobby said, chuckling.
"See you, Elissa. King will have to bring you out
sometime and show you the place."
"That would be nice," Elissa murmured politely.
Bess didn't say goodbye to
either of them, except to force a smile and wave as she walked ahead of Bobby down the terminal.
King watched her, his heart in
his eyes. Elissa couldn't bear that, so she
picked up her carryall and began to walk toward the exit.
"Where
the hell do you think you're going?" he demanded, falling
into step beside her to reach for her bag with an impatient hand.
"Home,"
she replied. "There's no need for you to come with me. You're
perfectly safe now. You can check into a hotel somewhere and—"
"I said I'd take you
home," he reminded her, his tone cool
and authoritative. "Sit over there while I arrange about a car."
She did,
angrily, still wounded by having watched him with Bess. She had to get herself
under control,
she thought. It
wouldn't do to let him see how deeply involved with him she'd become.
She gave a
brief thought to her parents and how they were going to react to having
her home so unexpectedly. At least she didn't have to worry about King's
meeting them; he'd probably be glad to let her off at the gate of their modest house
outside Miami and rush off.
But when
King pulled up at her parents' beachfront house and surveyed
the surrounding dunes and the waves of the Atlantic rolling lazily to shore
behind it, he seemed in no hurry to leave. He gazed at the hibiscus
lining the front walk, along with the graceful palms and a banana
tree her mother had planted years before, took in the white front gate
and the lounge furniture on the porch and remarked, "It reminds me of your
cottage in Jamaica."
"They're similar. Well,
thanks for the ride." She started to
get out of the car, but he clasped her wrist, then her fingers.
His eyes were very dark,
looking into hers. Puz zled. Faintly
disturbed. "You've been quiet. Too quiet."
She
shifted restlessly. She didn't want him asking questions or making
assumptions. "My parents aren't expecting me," she muttered.
"I'm trying to figure out what to tell them."
"Tell
them a hurricane blew over your cottage," he suggested, tongue in cheek.
118
Diana
Palmer
Fitfor a
King
119
"What
a cheerful man you are," she replied, star ing at him. "Why don't you go into
comedy for a living?"
"Stop
fighting me," he murmured as she tugged against his firm but
gentle hold. "You'll hurt my ego."
"It
could stand a little deflation," she said crisply, glaring at him.
Comprehension took the playful
expression from his face, leaving his eyes
narrow and glittering. He dropped her
hand. "She can't help it any more than I can," he said, his tone cold and cutting.
"So
I noticed." She reached for the door handle. "Good thing for
you both that your half brother is blind as a bat and keeps his nose
stuck in his papers. Those quiet types are the ones who go for
their guns without asking for explanations. You and Bess would look
lousy on the front page of the tabloids, full of bullet holes."
"Would
we?" he asked with surprising mildness. "You seem to find
the idea satisfying."
She
grabbed her carryall and slammed the door, about to add something
cutting. But just as she opened her mouth, her mother, clad in a
flapping red-splashed muumuu, came rushing through the gate like a
barefooted, white-haired tornado.
"Darling!"
she enthused, grabbing her daughter up in a fierce hug, her
blue eyes dancing with glee. "Oh, what a delicious
surprise! Your father will be over-
joyed! He's just
bought another crawly for his collection and wants to show it off to someone—
Who are you?" she added, staring over Elissa's shoulder as King came around the car.
"Kingston
Roper," he answered easily, studying the tall, thin
woman. "You must be Elissa's mother."
"Yes,
I am. I'm
Similar Books
