She sighed. “I guess you’ve probably forgotten more about sex than I’ve ever learned.”
“I guess I have, honey,” he said, studying her down-bent head with a slight frown. He caught her hand in his—offering a small measure of comfort, he told himself. “We’d better go out.”
At his strong, possessively warm touch, which set her palm to tingling, she looked up and met his searching gaze. It was like electricity. Startling. Unnerving. Her very breathing seemed to be affected by it.
“Yes,” she said absently. His mouth was beautiful in a very masculine way, and she couldn’t seem to stop looking at it.
He touched her long hair gently, his eyes still probing hers. She was trembling, he noticed in amazement. Then he looked down at the bodice of her jumpsuit and was surprised to find her nipples hard against the fabric—very obviously there was no bra beneath it. Suddenly he wanted to smooth his hands over her breasts. He wanted to taste her warm mouth and feel her body yield against the strength of his. His eyes narrowed at his own disturbing thoughts.
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me that way,” she said with that irrepressible honesty that had always intrigued him. “It...it makes me feel shaky.”
His eyes rose to hers once more. “When I look at your breasts, you mean?” he asked gently.
Her lips opened on a shocked breath. He’d never spoken to her that way.
He could have bitten his tongue. What in hell was wrong with him? This was Elissa; they’d been friends for a long time. It was Bess who was getting to him. He sighed, wondering why he’d never before really noticed this little imp with her exquisite body and lovely face.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” he said vaguely. He dropped her hand, turned away from her abruptly and lit another cigarette. “I’m in a hell of a situation. I guess I’m more disturbed than I realized. Come on. Let’s get it over with.”
“All right.” She followed him, her mind whirling. Had he been drinking? Would that explain his odd behavior? Perhaps wanting Bess had worked on his mind long enough to disorient him. That had to be it. He’d looked at her and he’d seen Bess. It was nothing to worry about.
“You’re sure about this?” he asked before he opened the door.
“Of course,” she assured him.
He sighed. “Well, let’s see if we can carry it off.” He held out his hand again.
She slid her slender fingers into it, a hesitant, but trusting “Okay.” She looked up, batting her lashes. “Oh, Kingston, you’re so sexxxxxxy!” she drawled.
He laughed unexpectedly. “Cut it out. You’re supposed to convince her.”
“I guess I can try.” She sighed. “You lead, I’ll follow.”
Bess was sitting on the edge of a chair, glancing toward the hallway when they emerged. The blonde’s very blue eyes narrowed and there was real hostility in them for an instant before she skillfully erased it.
“I didn’t know King had a...a girlfriend,” Bess said, deliberately hesitating over the word. She smiled with sleek sophistication. “He said you’d had a quarrel and went back to Florida. But you seem to have made up.”
“Oh, in the most delicious ways, too, haven’t we, darling?” she asked King with a fluttering of her long lashes.
He chuckled. “I guess so,” he mused, but he didn’t look at Bess.
“Where in Florida do you live?” Bess continued.
“In Miami, most of the year,” Elissa replied. She let go of King’s hand and smiled at the older woman. “I understand you’re married to King’s brother?”
Bess glanced down at the drink she’d poured herself. “Yes. I’m Bobby’s wife.”
“You’re cuuuuute!” Warchief burst out, circling his cage with appropriate whistles and clicks.
Bess stared at the big parrot. “You flirt,” she accused the bird, forcing a smile.
Elissa relaxed a little. Bess wasn’t so bad; at least she liked parrots. “He likes women,” she explained, “but he’s really in love with King. When I take him home, he mourns.”
“Oh. He’s yours?” Bess asked.
“Yes. He stays with King when I’m in the States, and I’ve only been back since this morning.”
King glanced at her quickly. “Want a drink?”
“Yes, thank you,” Elissa said. She read him very well. He was warning her not to let too much slip. She smiled. “Do you have pets, Bess?”
The other woman shook her head. “No pets. No kids.” She sounded oddly wistful. She laughed, a hollow, haunting melody. “No nothing. It’s just me and Bobby—when Bobby’s ever home.”
“Hard times, Bess,” King reminded her. “If he doesn’t keep on the ball,