you really a fighter pilot?” Emma asked.
“She is brilliant in the sky,” Jefri said, answering for her.
“Amazing.” Emma smiled. “I thought you would be more…masculine. But you’re lovely enough to be a pop star or an actress.”
Billie beamed. “Aren’t you sweet. I’m just a girl who likes to dress up. I tried being one of the boys for a long time and it never worked.”
“One cannot imagine why,” Jefri murmured in her ear.
Murat returned with a scotch for his brother and a glass of what looked like sparkling water for Emma.
“What do you think of Billie?” he asked. “Is she not most intriguing?”
Jefri stepped between her and Murat. “She is my guest.”
Billie felt a slight thrill. Was Jefri being possessive? Did he actually see her as something other than a means to fly better?
Another couple arrived—one of the princes accompanied by a petite, curvy blonde who squealed when she saw Billie.
“You’re American. Yeah. We can hang out and talk while you’re here. I’m Cleo. Hi. Do you realize that out of all four of the women who are in this family, I’m the only one who lives in the palace?” She poked Emma’s arm. “You’re constantly gone, as are Zara and Sabrina. It’s really annoying.”
Cleo’s escort, Prince Sadik, sighed. “You have confused our guest and possibly frightened her.”
“Are you frightened?” Cleo asked.
Billie laughed. “No, just confused. What women? Who are Zara and Sabrina?”
“Perhaps we should adjourn to the table where we can all straighten this out,” the king said. “Billie, you may sit next to me.”
So she found herself next to the king of Bahania, surrounded by honest to goodness princes and princesses. Billie had the fleeting thought that she wished her mother was still alive to take part in all this.
“All right, let me see if I have this right,” she said over the soup course. “Sabrina and Zara are princesses by birth.”
The king nodded.
“But Zara didn’t know she was your daughter until about a year ago. And Cleo and Emma are Americans married to your sons.”
“That is correct.”
“Very complicated,” she said as she discreetly moved the sliver of prosciutto she’d slipped off her appetizer plate into the Baggie.
“You will learn who belongs with whom,” the king said kindly. “Simply remember my sons favor American women.”
“Interesting point.”
She couldn’t help glancing across the table to where Jefri sat. Did he favor American women as well? He seemed to be watching her, and while she wanted to believe it meant something, she’d been burned enough times to hold back. Ever since turning sixteen and having her first crush, she’d found herself interested in men who wanted nothing to do with her. It was like a curse.
“I have met one of your brothers,” the king said. “How many are there?”
“Three. I’m the only girl and the youngest.”
“Sabrina could relate to that,” Cleo said. “Her brothers made her life miserable. What about yours?”
“My mother always said they were a handful. She did her best to keep them in line.”
“What does she think of your occupation?” Jefri asked.
“She died when I was eleven. I’m not sure she would have been thrilled with my hanging out with my brothers all the time, but she would have wanted me to be happy.”
“Did your father remarry?” the king asked.
Billie shook her head. “We traveled a lot with the company. My mother had kept me home with her, but after she was gone, I went around the world, as well. It made for a very eclectic education.” And nowhere to call home. But Billie had always known she would have to choose between her love of the sky and putting down roots.
Emma leaned toward her. “I would have thought someone raised by her father would have been more of a tomboy.”
Billie laughed. “I tried being one for a while, but then I realized I made a lousy son, so I gave it up and surrendered to my inner girl.”
“Hence the call sign?” Jefri asked.
She nodded.
He raised his glass. “To always surrendering to your inner girl.”
If asked, Billie would have expected to explain that the royal family was stuffy and well, boring. But that wasn’t true at all. After grilling her about her life—in the most pleasant way possible—they’d laughed and talked and teased just like any other family she’d met. Okay, the flatware had been gold, but the rest of the meal had been surprisingly normal.
Whether it was the combination of too much champagne, the strange quarters or an evening spent getting lost in Jefri’s dark gaze, Billie found herself unable to sleep. Giving up, she left Muffin snoring softly and pulled on her robe, then walked into the living room where she opened the French door leading to the balcony and stepped out into the quiet of the night.
A moon hung low in the sky and sent fingers of light across the lapping sea. There were scents in the air, smells she didn’t recognize but knew would forever remind her of Bahania. The air was still, faintly cool, but still pleasant.
“The good life,” she said with a smile. “I doubt anything is ever going to top this.”
She leaned on the balcony and stared down at the dark gardens. Slim shadows darted in and out of bushes. Cats, she thought grimly. No doubt out to kill. Why on earth would anyone think creatures like that were pet-worthy?
“What has you so concerned?” Jefri said as he came out of the darkness and moved next to her at the railing. “You are frowning.”
His unexpected appearance startled her, although not enough to make her duck back inside. She had a brief thought that she was in her nightgown, but then reminded herself that she’d been a lot more uncovered in her evening gown.
“There,” she said pointing toward the garden. “Cats.”
He chuckled. “I will protect you from any who attempt to attack you.” He glanced around. “Where is Muffin?”
“Sleeping. She needs her beauty sleep.”
“Tell me she does not have one of those black sleep masks.”
Billie laughed. “She doesn’t.”
“Good.”
He
