He glanced at his watch. Mrs. Jacks was probably still working since it wasn’t two o’clock yet. The Four Square Café had a weekday lunch crowd that didn’t dwindle away until after one o’clock, especially on a Friday.
Instead of calling around, he decided to take a trip into town to find Kerry Lynn’s mother. Besides, as much as he enjoyed being back home after two days away, he needed to put a little space between himself and Wendy.
Maybe he should quit calling her by that nickname. Thinking of her as Lady Gwendolyn Reed would be a lot safer than teasing her about her British roots.
She followed him across the dusty yard as he walked toward the house. “I’ve decided I’m goin’ into town to talk to Kerry Lynn’s momma,” he said before his guest asked.
“I’ll come with you. I need to check into a hotel, anyway.”
He stopped walking. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Whyever not? I need to speak to the prince as quickly as possible, and I haven’t procured a room for the night.”
“For one thing, nobody in town knows you, which means everybody is gonna ask questions. Now, if they hear you talk they’ll know you’re not from around here.”
“Yes, well, I won’t talk to anyone.”
Hank chuckled. “You obviously don’t know small Texas towns. Before you knew what hit you, Thelma would have interviewed you for the newspaper and Joyce would have booked you for a hair appointment. Gina Mae Summers would see if you were interested in a house, and Chief Parker would have your life history, just in case you were plannin’ to rob the bank or somethin’ else illegal.”
“They sound very…colorful.”
They’re just good folks, but the point is you can’t waltz into town and ignore the locals.” He grinned. “Besides, you’d be with me, which means everyone would want to know your name, where you’re from and what you do for a livin’ just so they could decide if you were good enough for one of their own.”
“I see.” She sighed, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up at him with wide, whisky-colored eyes. Not only did she need a hat, he reminded himself, but also sunscreen. Her pale English complexion would shrivel up in the harsh Texas sun.
“You’ll give me a report as soon as possible?” she asked.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out where those two runaway lovebirds are holed up.”
“But what about the hotel?”
“Darlin’, you’re gonna be stayin’ at this ranch.”
“I can’t possibly!”
“I don’t see why not. I have a perfectly good guest bedroom. Besides, I insist you accept my Texas hospitality. Ranger Springs,” he said with a wink, “doesn’t have a hotel.”
THE FOUR SQUARE CAFÉ regulars had gone for the day except for Pastor Carl Schleipinger, who was sipping a cup of coffee while he read one of his religious magazines. He looked up as the bell over the door tinkled a welcome. A crumb-littered plate that looked as if it had once held cherry pie sat on the gray Formica table. Hank greeted the minister as he passed his table, then made his way to the back.
At the rear red vinyl booth, Mrs. Jacks and the other waitress were rolling knives, forks and spoons into paper napkins for the next meal. Hank grinned as he thought of the fancy dinner he’d attended just last night. There must have been a dozen different pieces of silverware at each place setting along the linen-draped table, which had sat at least twenty people. No paper napkins for that crowd.
“Hello, ladies.”
“Why, hi there, Hank. How are you?” Mrs. Jacks said. “Are you looking for Kerry Lynn?”
“Yes, ma’am, I sure am. Have you seen her lately?”
“I talked to her just this morning.”
“Do you have a few minutes?”
Mrs. Jacks looked at the other waitress, a young woman with overprocessed hair and blue eye shadow, then up at him. “Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a chance to talk. I think I’ll take my break now so we can visit.” She looked at her fellow worker. “You don’t mind, do you Clarice?”
“Not at all. We’re almost finished here, anyway.”
Mrs. Jacks worked her way out of the booth. Hank stepped back to give her room, then followed her through the swinging door to the kitchen. The smells of burgers, fries and other luncheon favorites hung in the air, although the grill had been cleaned and the fryers stood empty.
The small office was vacant, and Mrs. Jacks pulled out the two chairs in front of the metal desk. “Have a seat, Hank, and let me tell you what I know.”
“I’m real concerned about Kerry. Do you know who she’s with?”
Mrs. Jacks looked around as if someone might be eavesdropping, twisting her hands as she’d been turning the napkins around the silverware. “Well…do you?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“That prince,” Mrs. Jacks whispered. “The one who looks like you. They’re in Galveston.”
Hank nodded.
“I just couldn’t believe it when she told me. I mean, a prince! And then I started wondering if he was one of those European playboys, and I just about went after them in my Buick.”
“The prince’s people say he’s a good guy.” Hank wasn’t going to make any personal claims, since he’d never met the man, but Lady Wendy did think highly of him—when she didn’t want to shake or strangle him.
“Oh, I hope so. I trust Kerry Lynn, of course, but I just can’t believe she took a perfect stranger with her to Galveston. And why in the world would a prince want to go to the Texas coast in an old un-air-conditioned Toyota?”
Hank shrugged. He had no idea what had prompted the prince’s desertion of his duties, except that Kerry Lynn was as cute as a bug. “What’s she doin’ in Galveston?”
“My brother and his wife, who live in Galveston, had a really nice little car they didn’t need anymore after her mother went into the retirement home. We took up a collection in the family and bought it for a real good price as a graduation present for Kerry.”
“So she went down to get the car.”
Mrs. Jacks nodded. “With Prince Alexi,” she whispered, just in case anyone was lurking.
“We’ve been lookin’ for the prince for the past couple of days.”
“You mentioned the prince’s people. Who are they?”
“Lady Wendy Reed and his valet, Milos, mostly. They kind of…asked me to help them out.”
“I know. Why are you looking for him?”
“Because he ran off in the middle of his big Texas tour, leavin’ his poor public relations director with all these engagements and no prince! So she asked me to fill in until we could find him.”
“And this has been going on since the day Kerry left?”
“That’s right.”
“I saw that TV news report from the station in San Antonio of the prince visiting kids at the hospital.”
Hank grinned. He wished he’d seen himself on TV in Austin. “Cute little kids, except the ones who were really sick. That just about broke my heart, but I kept on smilin’. Wendy is real big on keepin’ up a good front.”
“Is Wendy the public relations person? The English lady?”
“Yeah, her real name’s Lady Gwendolyn Reed, and she’s sharp as a tack, too. Keeps me on a short leash.” He thought back to the several times he’d talked her into stopping their sessions, how he’d kissed her, how he kept thinking about doing a lot more. “Well, at least she tries to keep me under control.”
Mrs. Jacks reached over and patted his hand. “I know what you mean, dear. You always were convincing when you wanted your way.”
Hank grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. Jacks.”
“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment, Hank.”
He decided to ignore that comment. “So, where was Kerry when she called you?”
“They were leaving Galveston. She said they might take the long way around, to show the prince a little more of Texas.”
“Tell me, did she mention anything about the prince being in di
sguise? I mean, if I’m pretending to be him, who’s he pretending to be?”
“Well…I think he’s dressed in jeans.” Mrs. Jacks rubbed her chin, then her eyes lit in amusement. “I imagine he looks a lot like…you.”
“I see.” So not only had Alexi stolen Hank’s former girlfriend, now he’d taken his identity as well. Could this get any more complicated? “Any idea what time she’ll get into town on Saturday?”
“No, I’m sorry, but she couldn’t say. I think they’re mostly sightseeing.” Mrs. Jacks frowned. “At least, I hope that’s what they’re doing.”
“So now she’s a tour guide,” Hank grumbled, shaking his head. “That European playboy is gonna make her late for her graduation, but I don’t suppose he can be too bothered by things like that, seein’ how he wants to take the long way back.”
“I’m sure they’ll be in San Marcus in time for her ceremony. The girls and I are driving over just after lunch tomorrow.”
“Will you call me at the ranch if…when you hear from Kerry? I really need to get that prince to call Lady Wendy.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Hank left out the back of the Four Square Café, vague discomfort growing like a bad case of black mold. He didn’t like the idea that someone was running around pretending to be him. He didn’t like the fact that Mrs. Jacks had to keep this a secret, just like he did. He couldn’t share a laugh about this with his friends at Schultze’s Roadhouse, at least not until everything was settled. Hell, Lady Wendy probably wouldn’t want him to talk about it ever. Keeping secrets just wasn’t in his nature.
The town he’d known all his life suddenly seemed to be pressing in around him as he stood in the narrow alley between the café and an old furniture store that had closed years ago. He even felt as though someone might be watching him as he pulled his hat lower on his forehead and walked quickly toward the truck.
He stopped when he got to the dually, looking up at the two-story buildings that surrounded the town square. The aged weathered brick walls and limestone cornerstones looked like old friends, but the blank, darkened windows on the second floor appeared more like searching eyes.
But nobody was looking down on him from those windows, just like no one knew he’d been pretending to be the prince for two days. He was probably just feeling guilty about all this deception. He prided himself on being a straight-up kind of guy, so fooling his friends and neighbors didn’t settle well even if there was a good reason.
He unlocked the dually and slipped inside. As soon as the prince came back, things would return to normal, he told himself as he cranked the engine.
Lady Wendy would return to her life in Europe.
Well, of course she would. She was damned good at her job and didn’t have any reason to stay a day longer than scheduled in Texas. She probably had the prince’s life all planned out for the next year. With the king picking out the bride and Lady Wendy coordinating everything else, Prince Alexi would find himself married before he could say “goodbye, carefree bachelor.”
Not that the lives of any of those people should matter to him, Hank reminded himself as he pulled out of the parking space. Hell, he’d never even met Prince Alexi or King Wilheim, and he’d only known Lady Wendy for three days. She’d marched in and disrupted his life; he should be glad when things got back to normal.
Except he had a strong suspicion that he’d kind of miss the bossy English lady.
Hank shook his head. He was thinking too much, that’s all, letting his imagination get out of control. After only two days of playing the prince, he’d gotten accustomed to people watching him. Now he felt as though they were even when he was just plain ol’ Hank McCauley, driving his pickup home from a nice, simple meeting with his ex-girlfriend’s mother.
He flipped on the radio and listened to Clint Black sing about love as the familiar scenery streamed by. He hadn’t listened to much country-and-western music since the Riverwalk on Wednesday night and it had affected his mood. He hadn’t been on the back of a horse or brewed any oil-sludge coffee, and he’d missed that, too. Maybe his life wasn’t all that exciting to European aristocrats, but he liked it just fine, he told himself.
Before long he pulled up beside the house and cut the engine. He wondered what Wendy had been up to while he was gone. Coming up with excuses why she couldn’t stay at the ranch, most likely. He chuckled and shook his head as he walked toward the back door.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called out as he removed his hat and tossed it on the kitchen table.
Chapter Eight
Gwendolyn felt like the proverbial curious cat as she wandered the rooms of Hank’s house. Other than needing a good cleaning, it was well maintained. When she’d first seen the structure, she’d assumed it was an older home. In England, one simply didn’t see this type of construction, with wooden planks, limestone accents and fireplaces, and a metal roof that looked almost antique. But now she realized that this was a fairly new house, with certain modern conveniences that one wouldn’t have found early in the twentieth century.
Hank had a well-outfitted office with a state-of-the-art computer, laser printer and fax machine. At least she’d be able to send press releases and communicate with the media, whether Alexi showed up or not.
The bathrooms were especially nice, with a slightly dusty but otherwise clean guest bath complete with folded towels and tiny shell-shaped soaps. Gwendolyn wondered who had chosen the small amenities…and why. Perhaps an old girlfriend? Perhaps the elusive Kerry Lynn herself?
A spike of unwelcome jealousy stopped Gwendolyn cold. She absolutely must quell these ridiculous feelings of ownership of Hank McCauley. He was not her cowboy! He was an employee—albeit one who had yet to name his price, which worried her whenever she let herself think about it—and she needed to remember their relationship.
But, oh, it was difficult when she thought of the kisses they’d shared. When she remembered how wonderful he’d felt as he’d pressed his body close to hers. He was bigger than life in every way, and she longed to absorb some of his energy and heat for the long months ahead, when she’d try to forget about him.
Which would be difficult to do since Prince Alexi would remind her of Hank from now until eternity.
She wandered into the doorway of his bedroom, the darkened interior showing little of the man who slept there. The bed was unmade, a dark fluffy comforter half on and half off the king-size mattress. Two windows flanked the bed, revealing nightstands with the bare minimum—a lamp and what appeared to be a clock radio. No frilly woman’s touch marred the simplicity, but she wondered if he had many visitors to this bachelor’s domain. Overnight visitors who left a trail of lingerie on the way to that big bed…
“Honey, I’m home.”
She heard his greeting, surprised she hadn’t noticed his huge pickup truck returning to the ranch, or even the door opening and closing. With a flush spreading over her cheeks, she hurried down the hall, hoping he wouldn’t catch her snooping around his personal space.
She wasn’t so lucky.
“See anything interestin’, Lady Wendy?”
His tone was teasing, but she bristled just the same. “I took my suitcase into the guest room and I was just getting my bearings when—”
“Good. You found out where my bedroom is. That way, if you decide to sleepwalk, you’ll know right where to come.”
“I most certainly do not sleepwalk!”
Hank shook his head. “Too bad.”
He was teasing her again, but she wasn’t going to fall for his Texas charm. She tried to walk around him, but he spread his arms against the walls, blocking her in the hallway. “I’d like to continue with my unpacking, please.”
“Aren’t you gonna ask me about the prince?”
She stiffened. While she should have been worried about her job, she’d been thinking of Hank’s bedroom activities. What was it about this man that kept her so unsettled?
“Yes! Did you discover his current whereabouts?�
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“Not exactly. Why don’t we take a seat in the livin’ room and relax. I’ll tell you what I found out from Mrs. Jacks.”
“Of course.” She once again tried to get by him, but he didn’t move.
“Unless you’d like a better look at my bedroom,” he said in a husky voice that promised more than “looking.”
“Truly, I was just orienting myself in your house, which is very nice, by the way. Now that I know where the rooms are located, I can function much better.”
“Function, hmm?” he remarked, reaching for a strand of her hair and twisting it around his finger. “I certainly want you to be comfortable while you’re here.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m also sure Alexi will return and I won’t be here long.”
Hank dropped her hair as though it had scorched him. “I guess you’re right,” he said, dropping his other hand from the wall and straightening. “I’m gonna get a beer. You want anything to drink?”
“A soft drink, perhaps.”
“Fine.”
He sounded slightly miffed as he turned and walked toward the kitchen. What had she said? Surely he didn’t want her to stay any longer than necessary. He’d made it clear she was disrupting his life; he certainly didn’t want a fussy English lady invading his private life for any longer than necessary.
She didn’t understand Hank McCauley, even though she’d always thought of herself as someone who grasped the male psyche fairly well. Her father and brother certainly weren’t a mystery, and her few serious boyfriends hadn’t been complicated. Alexi…well, he was different. Complex and intelligent, he also had issues related to his royal family assuming the throne of Belegovia. But even Alexi wasn’t as difficult to read as this Texas cowboy.
She perched on the edge of a couch that looked much older than the house. Hank returned shortly with a bottle of beer and a glass of a soft drink over ice. “I sure hope you like Dr. Pepper, ’cause that’s all I have in the house.”
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