He had to fight the urge to share a little more of his life with her. Maybe admit he’d been a little more worried about pulling off this gig than he’d admitted, even to himself.
Before he could relax on his own, Milos had him out of the tux and into one of the hotel’s thick terry-cloth robes. The valet excused himself to prepare the “prince’s” wardrobe for the next day. Suddenly Hank was completely alone in the luxurious suite.
He did what he’d planned on earlier—grabbed a longneck and slouched on the fancy brocade sofa. He propped his bare feet on the cherry coffee table that was probably an antique and reached for his cell phone.
“Hey, Travis, it’s Hank.” For the next five minutes, he talked to his friend about the ranch, getting his daily update on his horses and phone calls from owners and buyers. Everything was going well, but he got a little homesick for the ranch he’d bought while he was still rodeoing.
After he finished the call, he surfed channels on the big television hidden inside a cherry armoire. He was a little disappointed that there wasn’t a story on the prince’s tour of Texas. He’d kind of wanted to see his picture on the television, posing as the prince. What a kick his friends at the feed store or the Four Square Café would get if they knew their ol’ buddy was walking around in a designer tuxedo, shaking hands with the rich and powerful politicians in Austin.
He was about to flick off the television for the night when he heard a knock at the door. He unfolded his body from the couch and turned off the news channel. Padding across the soft, thick carpet on bare feet, he expected to see Milos Anatole on the other side, ready to give him more lessons on eating, drinking or greeting.
Instead, a fidgeting English lady waited in the hallway.
He opened the door, grinning widely. Damn, he was glad to see this woman. He said the first thing to come to his mind. “Time to learn how to eat barbecue with the president?”
Chapter Six
“No!” She brushed past him into the suite as he closed the door. “No, I just wanted to come by and tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done. I was so worried about tonight, but you handled yourself admirably.”
“I do my best to please,” he said, slightly irritated that she didn’t have more faith in his abilities to pull this off, even though he’d doubted himself from time to time.
“You were wonderful,” she said, grasping her hands in front of her as she paced to the windows overlooking the street below. “Better than any of us hoped for.”
“By golly, your faith in me is overwhelming.”
Wendy spun around. “I didn’t mean we lacked faith in you! You just far exceeded expectations.”
“So do I get the employee-of-the-month pin and a special parking spot outside the palace?”
She walked to him, tilting her head in that inquisitive way of hers. “What?”
“Never mind. I was being sarcastic.” She looked adorably rumpled, dressed in casual slacks and the T-shirt he’d bought for her in San Antonio. Her hair was loose and slightly tousled, as if she hadn’t brushed it after pulling on the T-shirt.
He wanted to run his hands through the long, sleek strands. Tip her face up to his. Kiss her breathless…
“Please don’t be,” she said, placing her fingers on his sleeve. “You are an amazing man.”
“Yeah?” he answered casually, trying not to think about how she stood within reach of his eager hands, trying to remember why getting naked with the English lady was a really bad idea.
“Absolutely.”
He felt the atmosphere in the room thicken. The quiet. The darkness outside. The low light from a single lamp across the room. Him dressed in a robe and a pair of cotton briefs, which were getting tighter by the minute.
He took a deep breath as he turned away from Wendy’s sincere expression. “How about something to drink? There’s some white wine in the refrigerator, and some soft drinks.”
“A glass of wine would be fine,” she said as she walked around the couch and sat down. His half-finished beer was still on the coffee table, where he’d left it when he’d decided to go to bed. Alone.
Oh, boy. What was he getting himself into? The whole scene seemed too cozy for his peace of mind. Did she feel it, too? She must not, because surely she wouldn’t put herself into a situation where he’d be tempted to forget their relationship was professional, not personal.
“Thank you,” she said as he handed her the glass of chardonnay. “I hope I’m not keeping you up.”
Not like you meant, he thought to himself. “No, I was just unwinding. Believe it or not, I was a little concerned about tonight, too.”
Wendy—Lady Wendy to him—leaned closer. “Oh, I know you must have been, but you certainly didn’t show it.”
“After you’ve faced down a ton of ornery bull or twelve hundred pounds of angry horseflesh, you learn to keep your cool. The one thing you don’t want to show them is fear.”
She shuddered. “Your former profession sounds brutal.”
Hank shrugged. “I loved it. My body got tired before my spirit got broken, so I guess I’m lucky.”
She took a sip of wine while her gaze checked him out. The robe did a good job of covering all the important things, which might shock her more than a few scars from bad breaks and surgery.
“So what about you, Lady Wendy? Did you always want to work for the prince?”
“No, I’d decided on a career in public relations when I was still at university. I joined a firm after school, but Alexi hired me away when he started traveling and promoting Belegovia a few years ago.”
“So you left England behind and started working for the prince.”
“Actually, I work for the royal family of Belegovia, but Prince Alexi is the spokesperson for the monarchy. He’s done a wonderful job letting the world know of Belegovia’s tourism and strong pro-American and pro-European culture.”
“Sounds like a good job. I guess your family is proud.”
The light in the room seemed to dim as Wendy looked away, frowning into her glass of wine. She placed it on the coffee table. “Not really. My father believed I should marry someone with a title and have two children, at least one of which must be a boy. He’s rather keen on carrying on family names and titles. Since I did him no good in that department, I should marry and provide an heir for another peer.”
“Yeah, a lot of guys are like that over here, too, only without those ancestral titles. In the States, it’s more likely to be passing along the family business.” Hank shrugged. “Of course, a lot of daughters take over when their daddies retire.”
“It’s a bit different when you’re the eleventh earl of Epswich. Our family home was started in the fifteenth century, then added to by various ancestors. My father, however, and his father before him, don’t have a true head for business.”
“What does he do?”
“Do?” she questioned, shaking her head. “As little as possible, actually. He takes his seat in the House of Lords at least once a year, when he’s not fox hunting or visiting his chums at their estates. Unfortunately, our estate doesn’t support a stable of hunters or a kennel of hounds, so he relies on friends for his hobbies.”
“I guess that’s the definition of a country gentleman.”
“I suppose, although I would have more respect for him if he’d spend more time managing our estate. My brother, the future Earl of Epswich—who, by the way, is an absolute ponce—is now hosting tours of our ancestral home.”
Hank wondered if he was supposed to know what a ponce was. Instead, he focused on what he understood. “Tours? Like the gardens and the house?”
“Yes, and for approximately two hundred American dollars, tourists can sleep in one of the bedrooms with a shadowed history.”
“What do you mean?”
Wendy twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “My brother may have exaggerated who slept where and when. I seriously doubt that Henry VIII ever honeymooned at Epswich Manor.”
/>
Hank laughed. “So Texans aren’t the only ones who tell tall tales.”
She smiled. “I’m surprised you’d admit such a thing.”
“By the way, what is a ponce?”
“It means he’s rather a smarmy toff.”
Hank laughed. “Now who’s talkin’ in riddles.”
Wendy laughed in return, raising her glass to her lips. “My brother and I aren’t very close, but I shouldn’t speak ill of him. Still, he’s a bit pretentious and overbearing.” She reached across the coffee table and handed him the longneck.
“It’s late and you’re tryin’ to get me drunk,” he said with a grin.
“I most certainly am not! You had already opened that beer when I arrived.”
“So, maybe you’re tryin’ to seduce me,” he teased, leaning closer. If he scared her off a little bit, she might get huffy and leave before he did something stupid. Like press her back into the cushions of this really nice couch, open his robe and shock her to the soles of her shoes.
“You are incorrigible.”
“At least I’m not a ponce.”
“No, you’re not.” Wendy settled back against the cushions, a genuine smile on her face. “You’ve made my job much easier after the prince put us in a difficult position.”
“I aim to please.” He let his grin slip away as he looked into her eyes. “What about you? What do you want to do next week, next year? Do you see yourself working for the prince for a long time?”
“I’m not sure. Probably. He’s usually a very wonderful boss, and I truly like my job.”
“Really?” Hank felt another stab of jealousy when he thought about Wendy’s relationship with the prince. Did the guy appreciate what a great person she was? Didn’t he find her attractive? He wanted to ask Alexi those questions, but then again, maybe he didn’t want to know the answers.
“Don’t you miss England?”
“Yes, but I visit several times a year. Since the prince grew up there, we return regularly.”
“How did that work, exactly? I’m not real good on European history.”
“When the Soviet Union took over countries in Eastern Europe after World War II, the Belegovian monarchs fled for their lives with just a few treasures they could carry. They sought asylum in England and it was granted. Truthfully, I believe King Wilheim believed he’d never see his homeland again. He was a teenager at the time.”
“So how old is the king now?”
“He’s only sixty. I’m sure he’ll be on the throne for many years.”
“So Alexi was actually born in England?”
“Yes. He and his brother and sister grew up knowing they were Belegovian royalty, but thinking and acting as good English citizens.”
“I guess it was tough going to a country they’d never seen.”
“Yes, it was, but also an exciting challenge. Alexi does love a challenge.”
“Which is probably what he’s getting if he’s off with Kerry Lynn.”
Lady Wendy sat up on the couch, then started fidgeting with her hands. “I suppose the two of you were close, with both of you growing up in the same town.”
Hank grinned. “Now, I told you there’s no need for you to be jealous.”
“Jealous! Of course I’m not jealous.”
“Now, don’t deny it. You made some comments before about Kerry Lynn, and I need to set the record straight. We dated for a while—maybe a month—but we decided we’re really more friends than we are…lovers.”
Wendy’s eyes shot open. “Then you were—never mind.”
“Close? Man, your eyes get really green when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous!” She shot off the couch like a big ol’ spring had hit her in the butt. “I’m just trying to understand this relationship we seem to be involved in with Prince Alexi and your former girlfriend.”
“Don’t fib to me, Lady Wendy. You want down-and-dirty details.”
“I most certainly do not!”
“Yeah, you do. You want to know if Kerry Lynn and I did the horizontal mambo. Then you’ll want to know how it was for me. Before long, you’ll be wondering if you and I would have a better time between the sheets.”
“Of all the—You have no idea what you’re talking about!”
He followed her over to the window. Her reflection in the darkened glass showed someone tormented by her own feelings, and he felt ashamed for teasing her so much. She was an English lady, not an easygoing Texan, and she didn’t understand how red-blooded American males thrived on testing and challenging a woman they were interested in.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. She jumped, and he made a soothing sound close to her ear. “I’m sorry, Lady Wendy. I was just teasin’ you.”
“You have no idea how much pressure I’m under. King Wilheim called again earlier and I had to tell him you couldn’t talk to him because of your laryngitis. I’m sure he wanted to discuss both this trip and his plans for Prince Alexi to marry soon. The king wasn’t happy.”
“I know you did a good job smoothing over those waters.”
“I tried, but sometimes I…”
“What?” he asked, massaging her shoulders.
She sighed and began to relax under his hands. “Sometimes I’d like to shake Alexi until his eyeballs rattled. I’d like to yell at him and tell him to quit running off. I know he believes some of these events I schedule aren’t important—at least not important to him—but that’s my job! He’s always been this way, taking a short holiday when he’s under stress, but he’s bloody well grown now.”
Hank nodded. “You’re right. Let’s go find the bounder and hang him by his thumbs.”
Wendy smiled at him in the window’s reflection. “If it were only that easy. He’s not answering his mobile phone. If he doesn’t want to be found, I’m afraid that we can’t search without letting on he’s missing.”
“You forgot one thing,” he said, turning her around. “He’s with Kerry Lynn. There’s no way in hell she’d miss her college graduation ceremony on Saturday in San Marcus. She’s worked too hard for that degree in business, waiting tables and helping her mother and sisters get by. She’ll be there if she has to hog-tie and gag that prince.”
“So you believe he’ll show up on Saturday? Or maybe tomorrow?”
The hopeful look in her eyes made Hank smile. “I’m sure of it.”
She grasped his arms. “I hope you’re right. I genuinely need to shake some sense into him.”
Hank grinned. “I’d like to see that.” But he didn’t want to talk about Kerry Lynn or Alexi or anything else at the moment. Leaning down, he kept watching Wendy as he parted his lips, letting her know exactly what he was thinking. Exactly what he was going to do—even though he knew it was pure foolishness.
Her eyes widened and her hands tightened on his arms. “Close your eyes, darlin’,” he whispered before he covered her lips with his.
Unlike the other quick, unexpected kisses, this one was sweet and slow. He teased her wide, expressive mouth, coaxing her lips apart. His tongue traced the curve, entered slightly, retreated and pressed home. Glorious. That’s what kissing this English lady felt like. She tasted crisp and sweet, just like the wine she’d sipped. She melted against him and he pulled her tight.
He wanted to part the thick terry robe and hold her close to his hot body. He wanted her to feel how he’d gone from on-alert to full attention in two seconds flat, but that might frighten her. For all her worldly experience—living in England and Belegovia, hobnobbing with the rich and famous—she was surprisingly hesitant. Kind of…innocent.
She pulled away with a gasp. Hank looked down into her wide eyes, then noticed her heaving chest. He was a little surprised to discover his own breathing wasn’t so steady, either.
“This is not a good idea,” she whispered. “Things are complicated enough without…this.”
“It was just a kiss,” he said gently, smoothing his fingers through her silky hair. “Don’t make m
ore of it than we need to.”
“But—”
He placed a finger on her lips. Her soft, hot, slightly damp lips. “Sure enough, that kiss could be the beginning of a great night if you wanted it to be, but it doesn’t have to be.”
“I don’t want you to think—”
“Darlin’, I’ve been thinkin’ those thoughts about you for quite a while. That doesn’t mean I have to act on them—unless you want me to.”
She just looked at him, not saying a thing. Not denying her feelings, that was for sure. He almost took advantage of her uncertainty before he remembered she was scared. Scared that she’d mess up this trip, scared that the prince wasn’t going to show up with Kerry Lynn on Saturday.
“I tell you what. Why don’t we go find that runaway prince?”
“Do you truly think we could?”
“I know just about everyone from Austin to San Antone. If Kerry Lynn and the prince are still together, we’ll find them. Texas is a big state, but Ranger Springs is a tight-knit community.”
“Finding Prince Alexi would solve my problems.”
Hank didn’t want to think about what that meant for him. She wouldn’t need him any longer. She’d go on with the prince’s tour and he’d go back to his ranch.
She frowned. “But if you’re not impersonating the prince any longer, why would you continue to help me?”
“Because, Lady Wendy, I did agree to help you. I wouldn’t be a credit to Texas or the legacy of cowboys in general if I let a lady in distress go off on her own, now, would I?”
“I suppose not.”
“Of course not. So we’re in this together until that wayward prince shows up.”
She smiled. “You are truly a prince, Hank McCauley.”
“Naw, I’m just a regular guy.”
Finally, her face reflected hope. “I could send out a press release that your symptoms have worsened into a potentially infectious—”
The Prince's Cowboy Double Page 8
