Fit for a King by Diana Palmer Read Free Book Online

afterthought.
    She
nodded. "Yes, thanks. Why does he want to compete with
you?"
    "It's
the way he's made, I guess. The second brother isn't going
to be second best. He's twenty- eight now, and I think he wants to best me
financially before he gets to be my age." He poured Elissa's drink
before he opened the sliding doors to the beach. He stood there, tall
and unapproachable, the breeze running like fingers through his thick black
hair as he watched the surf crash white and frothy onto the hard- packed
sand beyond the patio. "He doesn't like the fact that his father
allowed me to inherit," he added. "His father and
I got along pretty well—in a business sense at least—and I think Bobby somehow felt threatened by that."
    "He's
your half brother, of course," she said hes itantly, remembering
how little King liked to talk about personal matters.
    "That's
right." He lifted his glass to his lips with a bitter smile.
"He's not a duke's mixture—didn't you notice?"
    She glared
at him. "Neither are you," she snapped. "You're part Apache, which is
something else en tirely."
    He cocked an amused eyebrow at her. "Thank you

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    Diana
Palmer
    Fit for a
King
    59

for clarifying the
situation for me," he murmured dryly, and he went back to
contemplating the outside world.
    For a few
minutes they sipped their drinks in si lence, and Elissa wondered at the sense of
freedom the liquor gave her. She hadn't had
more than a small glass of wine in a
long time. But the vodka seemed to be doing strange things to her,
making her ex tremely aware of King,
diluting her inhibitions. She felt
light-headed. Reckless. Her body burned with new temptations. She put down the empty glass, and her hand seemed to
move in slow motion. King was close to finishing his drink, too. Was it his
third? She couldn't keep track. Bess had gotten to him, all right. Elissa wondered if he was completely sober.
    "Do you have other
family?" she asked after a minute,
joining him in the doorway.
    "Bobby's
father died some years back. Our mother is in a nursing
home," he added simply. "Alzhei mer's disease. We
visit her, but she doesn't know us anymore."
    "How terrible for you. And for her."
    "It is
that," he agreed. He took a long swallow. "I don't know
about my own father. He got sick of my mother's rich friends and left us when I
was just a
boy." He studied his glass. "He was from New Mexico, but he worked on oil rigs in Oklahoma. That's where he met my mother." He glanced
at her. "She was blond and blue
eyed, like Bobby, and she
    loved the good life.
Money was everything to her. My father had simpler tastes."
    "I
wouldn't have asked," she replied quietly. It startled her that he
was willing to share such a per sonal thing with her. Either he was extremely
upset by Bess, or
the alcohol was affecting him.
    She stared
at his shirt where he'd unbuttoned it and removed his tie. Against the white fabric,
his skin looked even darker than usual. Her
eyes were drawn to the thick mesh of hair over hard, bronzed muscle.
    As if he sensed
that rapt stare, he turned toward her and his eyes caught hers. He didn't look away. While
her heart went wild, with deliberate slowness he tossed away the cigarette he'd
just lit and took a step toward her,
bringing her totally against him, so that
her breasts touched his chest where his shirt was open. She wasn't
wearing anything under the jump suit, and
she could feel her nipples harden at the con tact with him. Tensing away from him, she wondered uncomfortably
if he felt them, too.
    "Anything
sexual disturbs you, doesn't it?" he asked softly, well
aware of the tension in her body. "Well, I'm safe—you said so
yourself. So why don't you cut your teeth on me?"
    "I
can't!" she gasped. He had her with her back to the sliding glass
door, so that she was trapped be tween its coldness and his warmth, her
breasts wildly sensitive against his hard chest.
    "Shh," he whispered at her temple. "Don't
panic.

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I won't hurt