LITMIR.BIZ

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you won’t,” she told him. “But I should probably be more subtle about it all.”

      “Because of the palace?”

      “It does sort of put our lives in perspective. I’m a small-town girl and you’re…not.”

      “Indeed. I would not even qualify as a big-city girl.”

      Her beautiful mouth twisted. “You know what I mean. Maybe you could get me a brochure or some notes. Something along the lines of twenty ways not to insult royalty.”

      “There is a person in charge of etiquette. Perhaps I should have him drop by.”

      Billie wrinkled her nose. “You’re making fun of me.”

      “Only a little.”

      “Wow. You have a sense of humor. What’s next on the surprise parade? Do you do your own laundry?”

      “Never.”

      “A guy thing. My brothers don’t do theirs either. But then that’s fairly typical of—”

      A sharp yowl cut through the conversation. He turned toward the sound but Billie was already moving across the marble flooring. Several sharp barks were followed by a yip.

      “Muffin!” she cried as she plunged into a fray of fur, paws, teeth and tails.

      While Jefri had no desire to rescue her pet, he felt obligated to offer assistance. He eyed Billie’s bare legs and hands, then moved behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her out of the way.

      She squealed, adding to the din. He had a brief impression of curves, heat and potential before he set her down behind him.

      “I’ll take care of this,” he said as he reached into the swirl of cats and plucked out a small growling, yelping ball of fur.

      For his trouble he received several scratches, a bite from the dog and enough hair on his suit to change the color from black to gray.

      “I believe this is yours.” He handed the small, shaking dog to her.

      She pulled the creature close and brushed her hands over its body. “Muffin! Are you hurt? Did those horrible, mean killers hurt you?”

      After reassuring herself that Muffin had indeed survived, she turned her attention to him.

      “I don’t know what to say,” she breathed, her blue eyes wide and anguished. “They could have killed her.”

      He examined his hand. Muffin’s bite hadn’t broken the skin, but several of the cats had left their mark.

      “I think she would have survived the encounter.”

      He crossed to the main door and opened it, then shooed the cats out of the suite.

      “There may still be one or two left in here,” he said. “Just give them a push out the door.”

      She glanced around uneasily, then moved close. “How can I thank you?”

      Her voice was low and intense. Had she been someone of his usual social circle, he would have assumed she was offering more than a polite acknowledgment of what he’d done. But with Billie, he wasn’t so sure. Besides, as much as he wanted her in his bed, he intended to seduce her every step of the way. He had a feeling that with her, anticipation would only make the experience sweeter.

      “It was no matter.”

      She shook her head and set Muffin on the sofa. “It was a huge deal. Those cats were so horrible.” She reached for his hand and took it in hers. “You’re bleeding!”

      A few of the scratches seeped blood. Jefri wasn’t the least bit concerned, but he didn’t object when Billie dragged him into the large bathroom and ran water over his hand.

      Her skin was smooth and warm against his own. She stood close enough for him to feel the heat of her body and the light brush of her breasts against his arm.

      “You were very brave,” she said.

      “They were only cats.”

      “Killers by nature,” she murmured as she reached for a towel.

      He wiped his hands then touched his finger to her chin. “What happened that made you so afraid of cats? While I’ll agree they are hunters, they are small enough that you would never be in danger of them.”

      She shrugged. “I don’t like them.”

      “I gathered that. The question is why?”

      Billie sighed. Her breath teased his skin and he dropped his hand to his side.

      “When I was young, I desperately wanted a pet,” she said. “Something of my own. But my mother was concerned about getting me one because my brothers were so wild. She doubted any pet big enough to hold its own with them would be a good animal for me. But on my seventh birthday, my brothers pitched in and got me a white mouse.”

      She smiled. “I know they did it because they thought the mouse would scare me, but I wasn’t frightened at all.”

      “You have three older brothers?” he asked.

      She nodded.

      He thought of the size and strength of Doyle Van Horn and knew that Billie would have to have been tough to survive in that household.

      “I loved Missy,” Billie said.

      He raised his eyebrows. “Missy the Mouse?”

      “Uh-huh. She was very sweet and tame. I taught her tricks.”

      “Such as?”

      “She knew her name and she would stand on her back legs when I offered her food.”

      “That’s not a trick. She was simply attempting to reach the food.”

      Billie’s eyes narrowed. “She was my mouse. I get to say if it was a trick or not.”

      “Fair enough. So you had this mouse. I suspect there was a cat involved.”

      Billie nodded. She leaned against the bathroom counter. “We had this playroom. There was a latch up higher than I could reach and sometimes, if I slammed the door, it locked into place. One day Missy got out. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I wanted my brothers to help me find her, but they wouldn’t. I was mad, so I stomped into the playroom and slammed the door. It locked behind me.”

      Her voice remained firm, but he heard the edge of emotion. Why? Over the death of a mouse twenty years ago? What possible reason could she have for caring?

      Billie folded her arms over her chest. “I walked to the window and looked out and that’s when I saw Missy. Two of the neighbor’s cats had her cornered. They were playing with her. Torturing her. I screamed for my brothers to let me out but they were in the front yard and couldn’t hear me. My mom was at the grocery store. I was trapped for nearly two hours. That’s about how long it took them to kill and eat her.”

      Jefri winced. “You didn’t turn away?”

      “How could I? She was my mouse.” She sighed. “I remember sobbing and my mom finding me. She tried to convince me it hadn’t been Missy, but how many white mice live in the wild?”

      “So that is why you dislike cats?”

      “Wouldn’t you?”

      He couldn’t imagine having a mouse as a pet in the first place. “They were acting on instinct, not out of malice.”

      “Oh, and that makes Missy’s death acceptable?”

      “Of course not.” Were they really talking about a mouse?

      “It’s hard having pets,” she said as she straightened her arms and pushed off the counter. “But worth it. Now I have Muffin and I’m going to make sure nothing bad ever happens to her. No palace cat is going to be allowed to have

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