“I can’t do that to the king. Although I didn’t grow up in Belegovia, I’ve grown quite fond of the country and the royal family.”
“I’m just not sure I can help you. I’ve never really tried, but I don’t think I’m much of an actor.” He’d talked to one of those Hollywood types about a role in a film once while a movie company had been in Austin, but Hank just didn’t see himself as a either a “pretty boy” or a thug, and he sure didn’t want to play some stereotypical Texas cowboy. He sure wasn’t a prince. Nope, he was a horse trainer now.
She seemed to deflate, slumping back against the sofa. The fire went out of her pretty whiskey-colored eyes. “I’d so counted on a successful trip…the triumph that would bring needed revenues into Belegovia. The country has come so far in so few years, but King Wilheim has such plans…plans Prince Alexi shares. But as of this morning, he’s off with a petite blond waitress from that truck stop on the interstate, and I—”
“Kerry Lynn? He’s gone and run off with Kerry Lynn Jacks?”
“I believe that is her name. As a matter of fact, she gave me the idea of asking you to fill in for the prince—indirectly, of course, since she had no idea she would be running off with the prince at the time—when she mentioned you and she were once involved.”
“Not serious. But that’s beside the point. What in the world was Kerry Lynn thinkin’, runnin’ off with some foreign prince?”
“I believe he was being noble at the time. Something about her unreliable car and a trip to see some relatives…Besides, he can be most compelling when he applies himself.”
“But still, she’s no fool. He must have fed her a line of bull.” Hank shook his finger at the British lady as he leaned forward. “If that prince so much as lays a finger on her, he’ll be answerin’ to me!”
“She kissed him!”
“What?” He slumped back into the recliner.
“Right there in the truck stop, she kissed him. She thought he was you, and she threw her arms about his neck quite enthusiastically and kissed him on the mouth.”
Hank smiled. “Kerry is a bit impulsive. I hadn’t been by to visit in quite a while and I suppose she was just glad to see me.” Hank rubbed his bristly chin. “Say, what date is this, anyway?”
“Wednesday, May 8.”
“Dang it! I’ll bet Kerry thought I was bringing her a graduation present. She’s getting her degree from Southwest Texas State University on Saturday.”
Lady Wendy looked a bit green. “How old is this young woman?”
“Well, she’s three years younger than me, so that would make her twenty-eight.”
The lady seemed to relax. “I thought for a moment that Prince Alexi had run off with someone…younger.”
He almost heard her unspoken words—much younger. Jailbait younger. Hank had to chuckle despite the serious situation of Kerry being off on her own with some foreign prince. “She’s been going to college part-time for as long as I can remember ’cause she helps her mother and sisters by working as a waitress.”
“If she’s graduating on Saturday, surely she won’t be gone long. Today’s Wednesday. If you’ll agree to stand in for the prince, I’m sure it would only be for a day or two. Miss Jacks will return with him, you and Prince Alexi can switch places, and we’ll continue the tour as planned.”
Hank shook his head again. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m a Texan, not some fancy foreigner. I can’t talk like I grew up in Europe and lived in god-awful Boston for five years.”
Lady Wendy brightened. “If that’s your only objection, then we’ll give you a sore throat. Laryngitis won’t cause any suspicion from the press.”
“Whoa, now! I didn’t say that was my only objection. I’d like to point out I don’t exactly act like a prince.”
“I can teach you.”
Hank settled back against the body-warmed leather and thought about the offer. A couple of days with Lady Wendy, learning to be a prince. No doubt eating with his pinkie sticking out. He almost grimaced at the image. For all he knew, this Prince Alexi was some dandified intellectual who knew all about Beethoven and nothing about George Strait. He probably thought Garth Brooks was some little ol’ stream in Wisconsin.
On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to learn some manners. Like how to eat those tiny snacks they always served at country clubs. How to order something besides a longneck if he wanted a drink. How to wear something besides new jeans and a clean shirt when he wanted to dress up.
Rich cutting-horse owners often asked him to join them in their boxes during competitions. He also had to go to cocktail parties and some fancy dinners in Houston and Dallas—sometimes even outside of Texas—to meet the kind of people who could afford a twenty- to fifty-thousand-dollar horse. He knew he needed some polish, but so far he’d gotten by with his grin and his championship bronc-riding buckle.
If anyone could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear in just a day or two, Hank had a real good idea Lady Wendy was the person. She’d at least give it a good British try, he thought with a grin.
“You know, I could probably call Kerry’s momma, Charlene Jacks, at the Four Square Café to find out where they all went,” Hank said.
“But you don’t quite understand, Mr. McCauley. If the prince doesn’t want to be found, if he doesn’t want to come back, nothing will convince him otherwise. I think our time will be best spent training you for tomorrow’s events, then we can find the prince. Or perhaps he will come back. He always does.”
Hank thought about this for a moment. He really didn’t want to end this opportunity so quickly, even if they could locate the prince and convince him to come back. Plus he was very intrigued by the formidable Lady Wendy.
She’d looked so forlorn at the prospect of failing. He wasn’t sure why this job was so important to her—she wasn’t from Belegovia, and she’d claimed she wasn’t sweet on the prince—but whatever the reason, all the starch had gone out of her when he’d questioned her plan. He wasn’t sure he could act like some European prince, but he couldn’t live with the idea that he’d failed her.
“Laryngitis, hmm?” he asked, still grinning. “I’ll cut my hair. I’ll even wear this prince’s fancy clothes. But don’t think I’m gonna stick out my pinkie when I drink out of one of those sissy china cups.”
GWENDOLYN SUPPRESSED A sigh of relief when Mr. McCauley acquiesced to her plan for him to impersonate the prince. At least he’d give it a good try, she was sure, because for some reason he’d decided to help her. It wasn’t the money; something else motivated Hank McCauley. Perhaps he wasn’t as broke or lazy as he appeared. She certainly wished she knew what did motivate him, since she would no doubt need that knowledge later, when instructions were going poorly and he threatened to walk out. Which he probably would.
Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely certain she could turn this casual, flirting, unrefined cowboy into Prince Alexi in less than twenty-four hours. However, the idea of reporting her failure to King Wilheim was unconscionable. She had to try. And Milos Anatole, Prince Alexi’s valet, would help tremendously.
The idea of telling her father she’d been dismissed from her first independent job, especially one with the royal house of Belegovia, was appalling.
“Very good, then, Mr. McCauley. If you’d like to pack a small bag with any personal toiletries, we’ll be off.”
“Whoa, now. I have to make arrangements for someone else to help Juan take care of my stock. I can’t just walk away from seventeen horses, four laying Rhode Island Reds, and the best mouser in the state of Texas.”
Gwendolyn wasn’t sure what he was talking about—probably some types of animals—but he sounded responsible for them. “Perhaps this Juan person can handle the task. Or surely you have a friend or a neighbor who can help.”
“Well now, I have somebody I can call, but I’ve got to see if he’s available. He’s got his own place to take care of.”
Gwendolyn glanced at her watch. If they got on the road with
in the hour, they could arrive in San Antonio before two o’clock that afternoon. That would give her nearly twenty hours—if they had to work through the night—to get Mr. McCauley ready for the children’s hospital and zoo appearances tomorrow.
“Let’s get on with it, then.” She rose from the couch and clutched her briefcase in front of her with both hands.
Mr. McCauley frowned, leaning back in his chair to look her in the eye. “Are you always this bossy?”
She swallowed a caustic reply. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCauley, but we are on a tight deadline. If there is anything I can do to convince your friend to arrive promptly, please let me know.”
“How much were you gonna pay?”
She suddenly realized they hadn’t discussed a fee. “How much do you require?”
“We’ll talk about me later, but why don’t you pay my friend five hundred to stay here and watch my spread? That’ll cover about two days of his time.”
From knowing Prince Alexi—who had the uncommon ability to compute pounds to yen to euros—for so many years, she’d learned to compute foreign currency. Five hundred dollars seemed fairly reasonable. About ten dollars an hour American, if one counted the entire day and night. “Very well. I’ll have a check prepared for him.”
“Now, Lady Wendy, I’m not sure the bank in Ranger Springs will let him cash a check from Europe.”
Gwendolyn felt her body go rigid. “I assure you—”
“Now, don’t get all bent out of shape. This is a small town. Hell, a lot of people won’t take a check from Oklahoma, much less Belegovia. Why don’t you run into town and see if you can get some cash? I’ll get dressed, pack a bag and be ready to go when you get back.”
“This is absurd! A check from the royal treasury of Belegovia is absolutely valid!”
Hank McCauley shook his head, making a lock of unruly hair fall into his hooded eyes. “No cash, no deal.”
Gwendolyn swallowed another reply and turned on her heel. “Very well, then, Mr. McCauley. Your friend will have his cash. I’ll be back shortly. Kindly be ready to leave when I return.”
“You’ve got it, Lady Wendy.”
She heard the recliner squeak as he rose, but his bare feet made no sound on the floor. She couldn’t keep herself from looking back to see where he was located.
He was right behind her. She turned and clutched her briefcase high against her chest, drawing in a deep breath, inhaling his clean fragrance and spicy cologne. Why didn’t the man at least don a shirt? He was absolutely improper.
Absolutely intoxicating, she had to admit as her head swam.
“You might want to stop by the Kash ’n’ Karry on your way back from the bank. I’ll need a couple of six packs of Dr. Pepper—the real kind, not that diet stuff—while we’re working on this prince thing.”
“Dr. Pepper.” She was relieved her voice still worked. “Anything else?”
“Throw in some Doritos, will you, darlin’? I’ve got a good idea all this training is gonna make me hungry as well as thirsty, and I doubt they have my kind of food on the menu at the hotel where we’ll be stayin’.”
Hotel. The two of them, working until the wee hours, alone in a suite. Maybe not alone, if she could keep Milos with them all night. “Whatever you wish, Mr. McCauley.”
He stepped even closer, so close she had to look up into his blue eyes and heart-stopping grin. Too dangerous. She dropped her gaze. She could see the sprinkling of hair on his fingers as he gripped the towel around his neck. His chest appeared warm, broad and firm underneath those fisted hands. She had the irrational and totally inappropriate urge to taste his skin.
Good heavens! What was wrong with her?
“Now, Lady Wendy, what did I tell you about not leavin’ an offer like that on the table?”
“What?”
He grinned. “Never mind. You run off to the bank, now, and don’t forget those Dr. Peppers.”
TRAVIS AUSTIN WHITTAKER had just paid for a pound of ten-penny nails, a box of staples and two rolls of chicken wire when his cell phone rang. Getting his change from Jimmy Mack Branson at the hardware store, he unclipped the phone from his belt.
“Hello.”
“Travis, I need a favor.”
“What’s up, Hank?”
“I need to go out of town for a couple of days, real unexpected. Can you come over and help Juan? He needs to be home with his family at night. Also, I’ve got a new horse coming in on Friday and I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to.” He paused as he held the door open for two ladies. “Got a hot prospect on a new horse?”
Hank chuckled. “Kind of a hot prospect, you might say, but not the four-legged variety.”
“Whoa. That’s news.”
“Well, not exactly. I need to keep this real quiet, Travis. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, buddy. No problem. Will you have your phone with you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll call if anything comes up I can’t handle.”
“Thanks. I’m paying you for this.”
“No way.”
Hank laughed. “Yeah, I’ve gotten you a great deal. I’ll fill in the details later.”
“Whatever.” Hank knew that Travis didn’t need the money. Besides, he wouldn’t take payment from a friend and neighbor. “I’ll come by late this afternoon if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Juan leaves around five o’clock usually.”
“See you when you get back.”
Travis hung up the phone and shook his head. So Hank was finally seeking out some female companionship. Good for him. As far as Travis knew, Hank hadn’t been in a serious relationship for months. He’d sworn off women after he quit the circuit because the gossips of Ranger Springs could sure do a number on a man’s reputation if he wasn’t careful. Just look at what had happened to Grayson Phillips—they’d hounded the poor man into matrimony last year, not that Gray seemed to mind being married to Dr. Amy Wheatley, Travis recalled with a chuckle.
So Hank was going off with a woman for two days. Well, Travis sure hoped he had a real good, relaxing time. Nothing like a little R and R to put a smile on a man’s face.
Chapter Two
He might be a rogue and a scoundrel, but he was a man of his word. He was ready to go when she returned from the bank. A well-worn carryall sat next to his chair on the porch while a large, fat yellow tabby cat wove its way through his legs.
Presumably the “best mouser in the state of Texas.”
Gwendolyn stepped down from the Land Rover, motioning Prince Alexi’s valet to follow her. She’d prefer to make the introductions before they all climbed back into the vehicle for the short trip to San Antonio.
“Would you care to join us, Mr. Boedecker?” she asked the driver.
“You go right ahead, Lady Gwendolyn. I’ll get to know Mr. McCauley later.”
Yes, at least the two men would have something in common. Same state, same economy of language. They no doubt enjoyed activities like drinking beer and flirting with women.
Well, she thought, pulling her jacket straight and marching toward the porch, Mr. McCauley would not be flirting with women for the next few days. Not as Prince Alexi. She didn’t want any rumors to get back to King Wilheim, who was intent on his eldest son marrying a suitable woman from European nobility as quickly as possible. Gwendolyn prayed that no word of Alexi’s impulsive little trip with the truck-stop waitress reached the king’s ear.
Hank McCauley rose from the wooden chair, stretching until she was certain the pearl snaps on his shirt were going to pop open. Ridiculous idea. Why in the world did these cowboy types prefer shirts without proper buttons?
“Mr. McCauley, I’d like to present His Royal Highness Prince Alexi’s personal valet, Milos Anatole, who will be assisting you with clothing and personal grooming.” She gave a slight nod, and Milos, who was very proud of his position as attendant to the future king of Belegovia, stepped forward and bowed.
“No offense, Mr. Anatole, but I’d just as soon get dressed on my own.”
“Milos will be indispensable to you in making the correct wardrobe choice,” Gwendolyn pointed out.
“He can pick ’em,” McCauley drawled, “but I’m doin’ up my own buttons and zippers.”
She suppressed a smile, noticing that Mr. McCauley’s drawl became much more pronounced when he stressed his Texas roots and independent ideas. “I’m sure we all understand your need for privacy.”
He frowned at her, but she plunged ahead before he could make any further remarks. “Milos will also assist with your instruction and other details such as protocol and menu.”
“You just tell me where to go, when to be there and what to wear, you hear?”
Good heavens, but Hank McCauley was laying it on thick today! Perhaps he was trying to convince them all that he was as opposite to Prince Alexi as night and day. Well, she’d just see about that! When she was finished with him, he’d be able to stand next to the prince and confuse even close acquaintances.
She only hoped she could fool the paparazzi and the king.
“Well, let’s be off then,” she said cheerfully. “Mr. McCauley, I’d suggest you sit in the back where the windows are tinted darker until we work more on your princely bearing.”
“Whoa again, Lady Wendy. I’m perfectly willing to go with you and help out with this impersonation, but I’m not squeezing myself into the back seat of that vehicle and taking off for San Antonio. No self-respecting cowboy would get himself stranded in town with no way back home.”
“We will, of course, provide transportation when Prince Alexi returns.”
“Nope. I need my own truck.”
Gwendolyn resisted the urge to place her hands on her hips and stamp her foot like an irate fishwife. “Mr. McCauley, we need to start work immediately on the history of Belegovia, the itinerary and all the details that you will need to know as Prince Alexi.” And she sincerely doubted she could get any work done in a rattletrap truck strewn with paper rubbish and beer cans. Not that she’d actually seen any of that debris around Mr. McCauley yet…
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