Hank studied her. She seemed to be telling the truth. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to have more than a friendly relationship with the prince. What little girl didn’t dream of becoming a princess when she grew up? But he had to take Lady Wendy at her word…at least for now.
But if that prince had messed with Kerry Lynn…Hank knew he couldn’t think about that right now without getting madder than a hornet.
Pete Boedecker drove under the portico of the hospital, effectively cutting off all conversation about the prince and thoughts of him taking advantage of relative innocents.
“Remember,” Lady Wendy ordered in that aristocratic voice of hers, “when you are asked a question, simply lean toward me and pretend to whisper your response into my ear. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Sure thing, Lady Wendy. I aim to please.”
“HIS HIGHNESS, PRINCE ALEXI, regrets that he will be unable to answer your questions directly, as he has been advised not to use his voice until he is feeling…more like himself again.”
Gwendolyn thought she felt a shudder—rather like someone suppressing a chuckle—from Hank McCauley, but when she looked at him, he maintained a carefully blank, if cordial, expression.
In the audience, a half-dozen local reporters and several paparazzi she recognized from other events occupied the first row of the seats, while hospital personnel filled the remaining chairs. Two video cameras were operated near the wall, while several photographers crouched on the floor near the journalists. All in all, this was a good turnout for a local event. Given the real prince’s absence, perhaps no reporters would have been better, but Hank was performing with aplomb so far.
“What’s the most interesting thing the prince has seen on his trip?” one of the reporters asked.
Hank leaned close and whispered, “That would be Lady Wendy hauling her cute little butt up into my pickup truck.”
Gwendolyn, by force of will, kept her eyes from popping open or choking on her outrage. She swallowed, then smiled for the audience. “The prince says that he has enjoyed meeting the wonderful variety of people in Texas, both in big cities and small towns.”
“How does Texas compare to Belegovia?”
“I’m not real sure, since I’ve never been there,” Hank whispered, his breath sending shivers down her neck, “but I think it’s a lot hotter here. Don’t you think so, Lady Wendy?”
Gwendolyn coughed discreetly and answered, “Prince Alexi says the weather is quite a bit warmer here.”
A few members of the press and the hospital officials chuckled. Another person asked, “What other plans does the prince have for his visit?”
Hank leaned even closer and whispered, “I’d like to take you dancing again in the moonlight. I’d like to hear you laugh again. I’d like to kiss your—”
Gwendolyn bolted upright in her chair, knowing she looked foolish but unable to stop herself. “Prince Alexi will be returning to Belegovia this weekend, after a brief visit to Austin for dinner with the governor and perhaps to Crawford.”
“Then he’s going to meet with the president on his ranch?”
Gwendolyn didn’t wait for Hank to whisper anything this time. “Those plans have not been finalized, and of course are dependent on the president’s schedule. Now, if you will excuse us, Prince Alexi needs to rest his voice. The doctor has prescribed some particularly vile medicine to cure his problem,” she added with a saccharine smile for him.
“Touché,” Hank whispered in her ear. “Are we going to play doctor when we get back to the hotel?”
Gwendolyn burst from her seat. “Thank you for coming today.” When Hank stood beside her and leaned forward, she knew she wasn’t going to appreciate his remark. His childishly—no, scratch that—his immature sexual innuendo. She moved out of range, sweeping her hand forward in an effort to show him he was to proceed her out of the seating area.
They made their way out of the small conference room after posing for a few more photos. Earlier, hospital officials had discussed their ongoing programs in the treatment of childhood disease, announcing a grant by Prince Alexi for a new, state-of-the-art diagnostic machine. No one realized that he’d donated the funds from his personal account, not from the royal treasury. Although his impromptu trip with the truck-stop waitress had shown his impulsive side, he was also, in Gwendolyn’s opinion, a very generous and thoughtful man.
He certainly didn’t make inappropriate sexual remarks in public settings. Or anywhere, to Gwendolyn’s knowledge. Not that she was privy to his personal liaisons.
Within minutes they were whisked through the quiet, sterile corridors of the hospital toward the portico where the Land Rover awaited. Hank had relaxed into his role, shaking the hand of the hospital administrator before exiting the building, rasping out yet another “splendid” in the British accent they’d perfected just that morning.
“Back to the hotel, Mr. Boedecker.”
They settled into the seats, both breathing a sigh of relief. Or at least Gwendolyn assumed that was Hank’s response until he turned to her with an unholy gleam in his eyes.
“Damn, Lady Wendy, you got me all hot and bothered at that press conference. I had no idea you cool Brits could heat up the room so fast.”
“What—what in the world are you talking about?”
“All that prim-and-proper behavior. All those clever answers. I found that downright sexy.”
The Land Rover turned left, throwing Gwendolyn off balance—just like Hank’s remarks. She braced her hand on the seat and faced him. “Sexy! Do you have any idea how I had to control myself to keep from…from striking you? And I am not a violent person!”
Hank leaned closer and grinned. “Got you all hot and bothered, too, didn’t I?”
“Most certainly not!”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“Oh, you—” She gripped the seat as they entered the fast-moving motorway. Now he was making comments about her undergarments.
“Now, don’t get all prissy on me again. I’m just tryin’ to get a few things straight between us.”
“You are trying to irritate me! You are trying to make me lose my composure in a public setting, but you’re not going to be successful. No matter what you do, I will not become a victim of your immature pranks.”
“Oh, really,” he said, and she immediately realized she’d waved a red flag in front of a dangerous bull. A paw-the-earth, fire-breathing beast. Bullheaded was more like it, but she didn’t know how to take back her words without apologizing, which she wasn’t about to do since she was right.
Before she could pull her composure about her like a shield, his hand came up and cradled her jaw. She could only gape as his lips descended. She could only hold her breath as his mouth settled on hers, lightly, more gently than she would have expected.
As if she could ever have expected this.
She closed her eyes as he coaxed a response she didn’t believe she was giving. As he cupped the back of her skull and tilted her head to the side. As her lips parted ever so slightly.
The Land Rover jerked to a near-stop, throwing Gwendolyn forward. Hank immediately grabbed her arms, steadying her on the seat.
Oh, if only she felt steady.
She drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you, but I must ask that you unhand me.”
A smile curved his sensual lips. “Unhand you? I’ll bet no one has said that since some damsel in distress in a 1940s movie.”
Gwendolyn settled back on her side of the seat. Way back. Near the door. “I don’t know why you…did that, but I must insist you not repeat your behavior. We will be working together quite closely for the next few days in purely a professional situation.”
Hank leaned closer, his expression not quite pleasant and more than a little tense. “I wasn’t the only one doin’ the kissin’.”
“Have you ever noticed your accent becomes more pronounced when you’re trying to convince someone you’re right?”
“Nope. An
d don’t avoid the issue. You kissed me back and you know it.”
“You took me by surprise,” Gwendolyn claimed, looking away from his beautiful mouth to the traffic ahead of them. Did Prince Alexi have such sculpted, sensitive lips?
“Darlin’, I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
His outrageous comment made her see red. She turned toward him, sure that he’d be grinning like the fool he was. But he wasn’t smiling. He looked serious—far too serious for her peace of mind.
“Mr. McCauley, I must ask you stop making these remarks.”
“You can ask all you want, darlin’, but some things are just in my nature.”
“Yes, I agree you’re a natural flirt, Mr. McCauley, but—”
“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about. I mean it’s natural for me to be attracted to a beautiful woman.”
“There is no need for flattery, Mr. McCauley. I’m aware I have few of the attributes most men find so attractive.”
“Now, that’s a bunch of bull, Lady Wendy.”
“I don’t believe so.”
His eyes narrowed in a gesture she now identified as a prelude to dangerous behavior. “As much as you’d like to believe you know just about everything, you’re not an expert on that subject.”
“I have had other relationships, Mr. McCauley,” she informed him, giving him a casual shake of her head as if his oddly endearing flattery didn’t affect her at all.
“Yeah? Want to compare notes?”
“Certainly not!” She barely kept the smile off her face at yet another outrageous remark.
“Say, I’m about to starve to death. Why don’t we stop and get a bite to eat?”
“We can hardly be seen in a public restaurant as Prince Alexi and Lady Gwendolyn Reed. Lunch is not on our agenda. I planned to order lunch from room service when we return to the hotel.”
“Now, I like that hotel just fine, but hotel food is a little like airline food—it’s just not the same as goin’ out on your own for ribs, barbecue or chicken-fried steak.”
“Prince Alexi doesn’t eat that type of food.”
Hank McCauley leaned closer, a wicked grin on his face. “Yeah, but I do. And I’m just dyin’ to see you dig into some of the best ribs in the state of Texas.”
“I don’t believe I’d like ribs.”
“Oh, darlin’, I know you will. We just need to get you out of those prissy clothes and into something more comfortable. We’ll take the dually and just be Hank McCauley and a lady friend.”
“We need to drive to Austin for the next event—a very formal affair tonight.”
“I’ll be ready for whatever kind of affair you want to have, but you just can’t leave the San Antone area without trying the ribs in Boerne.”
“Where in the world is Burney?”
“Not far at all. I’ll show you on the map. It’s a German town spelled b-o-e-r-n-e. Maybe twenty miles or so. Believe me, the food is worth the drive.”
“Really,” she protested weakly, wishing she could share lunch or dinner with this Texas cowboy at some small town. “I’m sorry, but we need to go over my notes, the social protocol and the people you’ll be expected to greet at the event in Austin. There simply isn’t time for a side trip to Boerne for ribs.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that. Lunch would have been my treat.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that remark, so she let it pass. Asking Hank McCauley to explain his remarks led to some very long and frustrating conversations that occasionally evolved into…inappropriate behavior.
They entered the lobby of the Hyatt with polite nods and a few curious glances. Hank carried off the persona of a prince with admirable grace. Before long they were inside the prince’s suite. A blinking red light on the phone flashed like an alarm to Wendy. Who knew to call them here? But then she remembered that Prince Alexi really was out there somewhere; perhaps he’d had a change of heart and was ready to return to his duties.
The thought that she would no longer need Hank McCauley caused a little flutter in her stomach, but she didn’t have time to explore the reaction.
She pressed the message button and immediately knew this was not a social call from the prince. After the first few words, she hit the speakerphone button.
“Alexi, this is your father. I have been unable to reach you on your mobile phone. You need to have it repaired immediately.” A slight pause made Gwendolyn lean closer. “I have arranged for Contessa Fabiana Luisa di Giovanni to attend the reception in Austin. Since you have been unable to select a bride, I have taken the task upon myself. She is a lovely young lady without any scandal in her past. She would make a suitable princess for Belegovia. You will be accommodating to her.”
“Damn,” Hank muttered behind her.
“I will expect a call later, along with a report on your public appearances today. Goodbye, Alexi.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any doubt who was ordering ol’ Alexi around like a naughty schoolboy.”
“King Wilheim is rather insistent that Alexi marry soon.”
“Poor guy. I sure as heck wouldn’t want my daddy to pick out my bride.”
“Prince Alexi’s sentiments exactly.” Gwendolyn turned to face Hank, folding her arms across her chest.
“And you are about to have the honor of beginning his courtship of the lovely contessa.”
Chapter Five
Hank had never seen so many glasses, forks, spoons and other gadgets that he had no idea what to do with. Well, this is what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? To learn how to mix and mingle with wealthy owners, eat at five-star restaurants or attend fancy dinner parties, and generally keep from making a fool of himself in front of the rich and famous.
He’d kind of forgotten why he was pretending to be Prince Alexi last night and during the day today. He’d never admit it to Lady Wendy, but he was enjoying the role of the temporarily semimute prince. Or he had been enjoying it until he’d seen this table setting.
Prince Alexi’s valet walked around a serving cart where a variety of covered dishes produced some pretty darn delicious aromas. He stopped at Hank’s left and gestured to the array of stemmed glasses hovering around the china plate like attentive soldiers. Beneath the place setting, a snowy white tablecloth that was probably linen had been starched and pressed.
“There will be a different wineglass for each vintage served with a course,” Milos Anatole instructed, “plus a goblet for water.”
“No iced tea or long necks, hmm?” Hank muttered.
Milos ignored him. “All forks will be used from the outside to inside, in order of the courses, to the left of the plate, with the exception of the dessert flatware, which may be located on top of the place setting. Your butter knife, of course, will be placed horizontally on top of the side plate for rolls.”
“Of course.”
“Always break your roll into smaller pieces and butter them individually. Never take a bite out of the entire roll.”
“Never.”
“The finger bowl,” Milos said, pointing to the little glass dish that looked like it could hold a child’s portion of soup, “may have a curl of lemon or rose petals, but it is used to refresh the fingers between courses.”
“I’ll try not to get confused and drink it.”
Milos rolled his eyes in exasperation, then continued. “It is well known that Prince Alexi prefers the ‘Sydney Opera House’ folded napkin. After the table is seated, remove the napkin and gently unfold it if there is not an attendant to do so for you.”
“Are you saying that people stand around just to unfold my napkin for me? They’d better not try to smooth it over my lap.”
What kind of useless guy was this prince? And who could possible know—or care—which type of folded napkin the prince preferred? Hell, Hank always considered it a plus when he had paper napkins at the house instead of using a roll of paper towels.
“That is not their only function, of course. They will also refresh condiments a
nd remove soiled dishes between courses.”
“Just so they don’t wipe my damned chin between bites.”
Milos turned up his pointed nose. “I certainly hope that won’t be necessary. Try to remember that the honor of Belegovia and the Ladislas family is at stake.”
Hank narrowed his eyes and started to say something sarcastic, but decided against it. After all, it wasn’t this little guy’s fault that royalty was pretty near useless. “Okay, what’s next?”
“If you’ll be seated, I’ll begin serving.”
With a sigh, Hank settled into the fancy chair facing the overwhelming place setting of china, crystal and sterling. He had a feeling he was going to get his not-so-royal knuckles slapped more than once this afternoon.
“Let’s begin with caviar and toast.”
Hank tried to control his joy as he looked down at the jellied fish eggs. His lip only curled slightly in distaste as he replied, “If you insist.”
“YOUR MAJESTY, I’M SORRY that the prince is unable to talk on the phone. He is suffering from a very hoarse voice and has been advised not to speak for a few days.”
“What has caused this problem? He was fine when he left Belegovia.”
“I’m sure it is nothing too serious. Everything should be back to normal within a few days,” she said, crossing her fingers and sending a silent prayer skyward. Please, let the real prince return soon. I hate lying to everyone.
“If you would like for me to convey your wishes to the prince, I will do my best to see that everything is taken care of. He was quite excited when we received your message regarding the contessa.”
“Excited! I’ll remind you that you are speaking to the king, who is also a father. My son is about as excited to marry as the most jaded playboy in Europe. If it were up to him, he would pick a bride when he is on his deathbed, Lord grant that will be many, many years from now.”
Gwendolyn understood what King Wilheim meant. Alexi had never been interested in marrying—not when he was a young public school student, an active and popular collegiate, or when he’d gone to the States to attend Harvard for his advanced degree. Even when his father regained the throne and Alexi knew he would be crown prince, he didn’t want to think about marrying to continue the royal line. If he were anyone else, people would remark that he simply wasn’t the marrying kind.
The Prince's Cowboy Double Page 6
