“I have a proposition for you.”
Hank McCauley grinned. “That’s a surprise, darlin’, especially this early in the day.”
“A business proposition,” Gwendolyn clarified. “I represent the royal family of Belegovia on this trip to the United States. Unfortunately, Prince Alexi has disappeared.”
“Oh, yeah. I saw that prince on television. Looks like he could be my twin. I don’t know what I can do for you, Lady Wendy. That prince is sure not hiding out on my ranch.”
She took a deep breath. “No, but for all intents and purposes, he could be here.”
“Whoa!” Hank pulled his attention away from her quality attributes. “Don’t tell me you want me to pretend to be this prince until he shows up?”
“I need your assistance, Mr. McCauley, and I’m prepared to make it worth your while.”
“Lady Wendy, you shouldn’t ever leave an offer like that on the table to a real Texan.”
Dear Reader,
Happy New Year! January is an exciting month here at Harlequin American Romance. It marks the beginning of a yearlong celebration of our 20th anniversary. Come indulge with us for twelve months of supersatisfying reads by your favorite authors and exciting newcomers, too!
Throughout 2003, we’ll be bringing you some not-to-miss miniseries. This month, bestselling author Muriel Jensen inaugurates MILLIONAIRE, MONTANA, our newest in-line continuity, with Jackpot Baby. This exciting six-book series is set in a small Montana town whose residents win a forty-million-dollar lottery jackpot. But winning a fortune comes with a price and no one’s life will ever be the same again.
Next, Commander’s Little Surprise, the latest book in Mollie Molay’s GROOMS IN UNIFORM series, is a must-read secret-baby and reunion romance with a strong hero you won’t be able to resist. Victoria Chancellor premieres her new A ROYAL TWIST miniseries in which a runaway prince and his horse-wrangling look-alike switch places. Don’t miss The Prince’s Cowboy Double, the first book in this delightful duo. Finally, when a small Alaskan town desperately needs a doctor, there’s only one man who can do the job, in Under Alaskan Skies by Carol Grace.
So come join in the celebrating and start your year off right—by reading all four Harlequin American Romance books!
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin American Romance
THE PRINCE’S COWBOY DOUBLE
Victoria Chancellor
To my literary agent, Linda Kruger, for her consistent
support in good times and bad.
Here’s to the future!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After twenty-eight years in Texas, Victoria Chancellor has almost qualified for “naturalized Texan” status. She lives in a suburb of Dallas with her husband of thirty-one years, next door to her daughter, who is an English teacher. When not writing, she tends to her “zoo” of four cats, a ferret, five tortoises, a wide assortment of wild birds, three visiting chickens and several families of raccoons and opossums. For more information on past and future releases, please visit her Web site at www.victoriachancellor.com.
Books by Victoria Chancellor
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
844—THE BACHELOR PROJECT
884—THE BEST BLIND DATE IN TEXAS
955—THE PRINCE’S COWBOY DOUBLE*
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
Lady Gwendolyn Reed straightened her plum wool suit jacket, squared her shoulders in the best tradition of the British nobility, and watched the so-called cowboy approach the screen door from inside the darkened house. Backlit by a window at the end of the hallway, he appeared tall and broad shouldered. Instead of hurrying, as would be proper in this situation, he sauntered with a rolling gait she’d only seen previously in Western films.
A tiny bead of perspiration traveled down her back, keeping time with the cowboy’s slow, steady pace. Who would have imagined early May would be so dashedly hot, even in Texas?
Gwendolyn resisted the urge to tap her foot on the wide wooden planks. She didn’t want to be here. Looking back briefly to the black Land Rover parked in the gravel drive, she was at least assured she wasn’t alone. A very nervous valet watched her from behind tinted glass. The driver—an Austin resident who had grown up driving on the wrong side of the motor-ways—appeared stoic and unaffected, as usual.
One must have nerves of steel to negotiate the frightening dual carriageways and twisting rural roads of Texas, where everyone drove large vehicles—from huge lorries to caravans on holiday—at an alarming rate of speed.
“Mr. Hank McCauley?” she asked as the man stopped before her.
“That’s me, darlin’,” he drawled, running a hand through his too-long hair. He opened the thin barrier of the screen door and stepped outside. Dressed in low-slung jeans, a white towel draped around his shoulders, he appeared as though he’d recently stepped out of the shower. His long bare feet told her she’d interrupted his morning—his very late morning—grooming. His stubble indicated he hadn’t shaved yet today. He ran a hand through sun-streaked, tousled brown hair.
He looked just like a James Dean-ish, Hollywood-style version of Prince Alexi Ladislas of Belegovia.
Oh, my. Gwendolyn looked up into his sleepy, hooded blue eyes, telling herself that she should be evaluating this Texan for his suitability, not comparing his masculine attributes to the prince. Still, any woman would appreciate his tall, broad-shouldered form, his smooth, tanned skin, and the intangible air about him that screamed—no, make that whispered in a bedroom voice—I am one-hundred-percent male.
Odd that Prince Alexi, who appeared the mirror image—albeit a more polished one—of Hank McCauley had never affected her this way.
She blinked away the notion of cool sheets and warm showers, clutching her combination purse and briefcase tighter until she was sure she’d left imprints in the leather. “Mr. McCauley, my name is Lady Gwendolyn Reed and I have a proposition for you.”
He grinned. “Well, that’s a real surprise, darlin’, especially this early in the day. Most of those come at night out at Schultze’s Roadhouse.”
She assumed this roadhouse was some type of pub, one this man frequented with some regularity. “A business proposition,” Gwendolyn clarified, fighting the urge to lose her composure completely on the porch of this ranch house in the Texas Hill Country. She wondered what King Wilheim would say if she pulled her hair loose, threw down her briefcase and ran screaming across the blue-and-red flower-dotted countryside.
She’d had a very bad morning.
“I represent the royal family of Belegovia on this trip to the United States. Unfortunately, Prince Alexi—you may have read or heard of his trip to Texas—has disappeared.”
“Oh, yeah. I saw that prince guy on the television. Looks like he could be my twin,” Mr. McCauley said with a heart-stopping grin.
“Yes, well I’m sure the two of you are unrelated, although the resemblance is remarkable. Prince Alexi, of course, grew up in England while the royal family was in exile.”
“You don’t say. What did they do wrong?”
“Wrong?”
“To get exiled.”
Gwendolyn gritted her teeth. “Their only crime was to be taken over by the Soviet Union a
fter World War II. The monarchy was restored to Belegovia after the breakup of the communist government.”
“Ah, one of those political things.”
“Quite. Now, as I was saying, I need your assistance.”
He leaned against the door frame, close enough that Gwendolyn smelled his spicy cologne and envisioned a diamond-bright sparkle coming from his sexy grin. “What can I do for you, darlin’?”
“May I come inside so we may talk?”
He straightened, using one arm to push the screen door wider. “Come right on in, Wendy.”
“That’s Lady Gwendolyn.”
“We’re not much on titles in the U.S. of A.”
“So I’ve heard. In that case, you may call me—”
“Darlin’, you look just like a Wendy to me.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Be nice to the man. He’s probably the only person in this barbaric land who looks exactly like Prince Alexi. Thankfully, she’d overheard the rather vivacious waitress—the very reason Alexi was now missing—mention Hank McCauley’s name and hometown.
He leaned close enough that she saw a tiny crescent-moon scar to the right of his upper lip. “Lady Wendy, you shouldn’t ever leave an offer like that on the table to a real Texan.”
HANK WASN’T SURE WHAT the pretty English lady’s game was, but he was curious enough to listen. He hadn’t planned to do much except take a nap after his shower, anyway. All-night colic sessions took a lot out of him. Fortunately, the mare he’d walked and dosed until long past dawn had finally settled down.
“Pardon the mess,” he said, grabbing a denim work shirt off the arm of the couch with one hand and a cold mug of coffee with the other. “I’d tell you it was the maid’s day off, but that would be a lie. She’s been gone a good three months that I can recall.”
He saw indulgent sympathy in her eyes. “That’s quite all right, Mr. McCauley. Perhaps my offer will lead to the hiring of new housekeeper.”
He needed another ten hours in his day, not money for a housekeeper. But he wasn’t about to admit that to the lady until he learned why she was here. “Have a seat, Lady Wendy, while I put this stuff in the kitchen. I’d offer you some coffee, but I don’t have a fresh pot made.”
She perched on the edge of his momma’s old colonial American sofa. He sure did love that couch. Had a few happy memories…but maybe he shouldn’t think about those right now.
“Actually, I prefer tea,” the English lady said, “but please don’t prepare any. I’d rather we got right down to business.”
“I like a lady who knows what she wants,” Hank said from around the corner of the kitchen as he tossed the shirt onto a chair and put the mug on the counter. The smell of the hours-old coffee, which had nearly burned in the pot before the coffeemaker turned itself off, filled the air. He briefly considered putting on a shirt, but he kind of liked the way Lady Wendy tried not to stare at his chest. When he didn’t have busted ribs or some big old bruise, he considered his chest and a fairly respectable six-pack of abs two of his best features.
“So what business brings you to Ranger Springs?” he said, taking a seat in a leather recliner with heat and massage features. That chair had sure felt good on his aching joints when he was still on the circuit. At the moment, the cool leather gave him a little jolt against his bare back.
Lady Wendy was perched on the edge of the couch, that funny-looking purse lying flat on her lap. She had a death grip on the fine-grained leather. Instead of long talons or work-shortened stubs, she had natural-looking, clear-polished nails that looked real classy. “I’m employed by the royal family of Belegovia. I’m charged with coordinating the prince’s tour of Texas for the purpose of expanding economic opportunities and tourism.”
“I saw something about the prince on the news yesterday. He’s been up in Dallas, hasn’t he?”
“Yes. We had several engagements there before traveling to San Antonio.”
“Is that where you’re headed? ’Cause I have to tell you that you made a little detour.”
Maybe he should have made her that hot tea so she’d have something to do with her hands besides holding that purse in a death grip. “I’m aware of where I am and why, Mr. McCauley.”
“Why don’t you call me Hank, Lady Wendy? We Texans don’t stand on formality.”
“Since my proposition is a business one, I’d prefer to keep our discussions less personal.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you like. So, what’s this proposition?”
“First, I must insist this conversation remain confidential between the two of us.”
He nodded. “I’m a man of my word.” As much as he’d like to brag he’d been propositioned by a classy English lady, he’d listen to her story and keep their discussion to himself.
She took a deep breath, giving him a pretty good view of her breasts. Not buckle-bunny, pop-the-snaps quantity, but nice nonetheless. “It appears the prince has decided to take his own holiday.”
Hank pulled his attention away from Lady Wendy’s quality, not quantity, attributes. “What?”
“Prince Alexi has taken a short deviation from our planned itinerary. I’m not sure when he’ll return.”
“Is this a problem?”
“It may be. You see, we have two events in San Antonio, a dinner in Austin, then we hoped to meet with the president if he is going to be at his ranch for the weekend.”
“I guess you don’t want to stand up the president.”
“I don’t want to cancel any of these events. Prince Alexi can be…difficult, but I certainly didn’t expect him to leave me in the lurch.”
“So, are you and this prince an item?”
“I beg your pardon!” If possible, her spine got even straighter. He could probably bounce a quarter off her deltoids.
“You know what I mean. This sounds a bit personal. Are you and the prince…involved?”
“Absolutely not! I’ve known Prince Alexi Ladislas since we were both public-school mates in England, and I’ve never considered him anything more than a friend.”
“Ah, so it is personal.”
“Not in that manner.”
“But he’s your friend, meaning he let you down.”
Lady Wendy seemed to deflate just a bit. “I should have anticipated something like this. There was an unfortunate incident with an actress in Monaco last fall…” She seemed to shake herself away from her memories. “He’s been restless lately, more so since we’d planned this trip to the States.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you, Lady Wendy. That prince is sure not hiding out on my ranch.”
“No, but for all intents and purposes, he could be here.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She took another deep breath, then bent forward just enough to pull that silky material tight against her breasts. “You really are the very image of Prince Alexi, Mr. McCauley. With just a proper—I mean a similar—haircut and his wardrobe, I know that we’d be well on our way to—”
“Whoa! You want me to pretend to be this prince until he shows up?”
“Exactly,” she answered with more enthusiasm than he could have imagined. “With any luck, we’ll be able to contact Prince Alexi within twenty-four hours. I’m sure he’ll see reason and return to his entourage. Unfortunately, canceling the events until his return would appear suspicious, even if I were to come up with a good excuse.”
“Why? Is he involved in something shady?”
“Shady?”
“You know…illegal, immoral or just a little crooked.”
“Absolutely not! He’s a fine, upstanding man from one of Europe’s oldest royal families. He’s educated, intelligent and heir to a kingdom.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “You sure you aren’t sweet on this guy?”
“No! And besides, even if I were, that’s beside the point.”
“Which is…?”
“I need your assistance, Mr. McCauley, and I’m prepared to make it worth
your while.”
“How’s that?”
“While the treasury of Belegovia does not rival those of Great Britain or the Arab world, I can offer you a substantial fee for only a few days of your time.”
Hank shook his head. “I’ve got chores to do, horses to tend. Twenty-five bags of sweet feed are bein’ unloaded this afternoon. This ranch doesn’t run by itself, Lady Wendy.”
“Surely you can hire someone to fill in for a few days. If we get started immediately, I can have any alterations made to the wardrobe, brief you on the itinerary and give you some lessons on protocol.”
“Protocol, hmm? In other words, you’d tell me what to do and say. Tell me, Lady Wendy, how are you gonna explain my Texas accent?”
“I would, of course, give you elocution lessons.”
“You’d teach me to speak like some foreign prince in less than a day? I don’t think so.”
“Prince Alexi speaks English flawlessly. He grew up in England while his family was in exile. He even lived in the States for five years before returning to Belegovia.”
“Did he live in Texas?”
“No, Boston.”
“Then he might as well talk like you, Lady Wendy, because Texans can barely understand those fast-talking Yankees.”
“Surely with a little practice…”
Hank shook his head. “No offense, Lady Wendy, but I don’t think you’ve thought this plan through. Maybe it would be best to just tell everyone he’s sick. Food poisoning, or a summer cold. Those can be pretty nasty.”
“I’ve always found the ‘sudden illness’ reason generates rabid speculation by the press. The tabloids might fabricate ridiculous stories that would make Prince Alexi’s character seem in question. He’s never taken drugs, nor does he drink to excess, but that is the first thing they would write. No, I simply cannot suddenly state that he is ill. Besides, any sickness serious enough to warrant canceling the trip would worry his family needlessly.”
“You could always tell them the truth, that he’s run off for a couple of days,” Hank suggested gently.
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