“What the heck is going on?” Dr. Ambrose Wheatley asked as he stood inside the Four Square Café and gazed out at the town square. Two odd-looking strangers argued with each other. Both of them had at least two cameras hanging around their necks.
“Beats me,” Travis Whittaker said, only half interested since his bacon and eggs had just arrived. “Maybe they’re lost.”
“I don’t think so,” Thelma, the newspaper owner and editor, stated as she walked to the window. “Maybe I should go see if they need some help.”
“Might be a good story in it,” Dr. Wheatley replied with a chuckle. Since he’d semiretired last year after his daughter returned to take over his practice, he had a lot more time to socialize with his friends and pester his new wife, Joyce, at her hair salon.
Travis buttered his biscuits and tried not to get involved in the scene unfolding outside.
“Maybe they’re government agents,” Jimmy Mack Branson added as he joined two of the busiest busy-bodies in town.
“I don’t think so, not with those cameras. Undercover types don’t usually take pictures, do they?” Ambrose asked. “But they do look a mite suspicious.”
Travis sighed. He should have sat in one of the booths at the back, but instead had chosen his favorite table by the plate-glass window overlooking the parklike town square with its gazebo and flowering bushes.
He glanced outside again. The older man wore a wrinkled, cheap suit and had a five o’clock shadow left over from last night. The younger man wore baggy khaki pants and a multipocket camouflage vest. One of his cameras boasted a lens that could photograph a horsefly from the next county.
“Maybe they’re professional photographers. They could be taking pictures of the bluebonnets,” Jimmy Mack said.
“Then what are they doing in our town square?” Thelma asked. “I’d better go ask them if they’re lost.”
“Good idea,” Travis said. “Ambrose, you might want to go with her for backup, just in case they decide to take her in for interrogation.”
Jimmy Mack frowned. “I’d better go open the hardware store. It’s nearly ten.”
The doorbell tinkled merrily as everyone left. Travis smiled and took a big bite of eggs.
He’d just buttered his last biscuit and topped it with strawberry preserves when Thelma burst into the café, her tight gray curls bobbing and her eyes alight with news in thirty-point type.
“One of them is a tabloid photojournalist,” she announced to anyone who was paying attention, “and the other one is a paparazzo from one of those sleazy European rags.”
“What are they doing in Ranger Springs?” Travis had to ask, despite his best intentions to mind his own business and finish his breakfast.
“For some reason, they’re looking for Prince Alexi of Belegovia in our town. Can you imagine? Like the prince is going to come here on his important state visit when everyone knows he’s in Austin, waiting to hear if the president is coming to Crawford for the weekend.”
“They could be some of the same paparazzi that chase movie stars and royalty, trying to photograph their weddings,” Mrs. Jacks stated, carrying a plate of hotcakes and sausage to Pastor Carl Schleipinger. “There should be laws against those people harassing everyone who is the least…bit…famous.” She plopped the plate in front of the minister and sat down in an empty chair.
“Mrs. Jacks, are you all right?” Pastor Carl asked.
Thelma hurried over. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, Charlene.”
“It’s the royal thing,” Dr. Wheatley said, hurrying over to take her pulse. “Charlene, do you feel dizzy?”
“What?”
“How do you feel, dear?” Thelma asked, patting her other hand. “Dr. Wheatley wants to know.”
“Oh, I’m fine now. I just…thought of something.”
“Yes, we know,” Dr. Wheatley said. “It’s that royalty thing.”
She looked at him blankly. Travis suspected something other than the princess’s untimely death several years ago was bothering the middle-aged waitress, but darned if he knew what. He’d heard from friends that she was a royal buff; she’d even wanted to go to Queen Elizabeth’s Silver Jubilee in London this year, but Kerry was graduating and they really didn’t have the money for that type of trip.
“I swear, Charlene, you gave me a fright,” Thelma said.
“I’m better now, but I think I’ll rest for another few minutes in the office.”
“I could drive you over to the clinic,” Dr. Wheatley offered. “Amy is still seeing patients until one o’clock.”
“No, I’m fine. Really. I’ll just splash some water on my face and put my feet up for a few minutes.”
She stood with the help of Pastor Carl and the doctor, smiling weakly at both men. “You help yourself to more coffee until I get back.”
“Don’t worry about us,” the minister said.
Travis decided he needed another cup, so he retrieved the carafe and refilled his and the pastor’s. Glancing outside, he noticed that the two reporters had stopped arguing and were walking toward the café.
“Here comes your story, Thelma,” he said.
The bell tinkled gaily as the two men entered. One had the darker coloring of southern Europe or perhaps northern Africa, while the other looked like a hard-drinking, heavy-smoking journalist from a 1940s black-and-white movie. Both of them tried to look pleasant as they stopped just inside the door.
“Hello,” the older one said in a gravelly voice and Bronx accent. “We were just wondering if anyone here knew where we could find a man named Hank McCauley.”
“THERE ARE TABLOID reporters in Ranger Springs,” Hank told Gwendolyn when he hung up the phone. “And they’re looking for me and Prince Alexi.”
“Oh, no!” She sank back on the couch, all the starch gone from her spine. Her worst fear—other than losing her job—was negative publicity. This type of scandal was just what the paparazzi were looking for. They’d love to break the story of the missing prince, his working-class lover and the phony prince that had dined with congressmen and the governor of Texas. Add a two-headed baby and an alien abduction and they’d have a bestseller. She dropped her head to her hands and felt like crying.
“Who was that on the phone?” Gwendolyn asked, her voice muffled as she rubbed her aching head.
“Mrs. Jacks. She was calling me from the office of the café, telling me they were looking for the prince. Then Thelma rushed in and told her they were looking for me, too.”
“Then they’ll be looking for me, too. Oh, this is terrible.”
“They don’t know anything yet.”
She looked up into Hank’s frowning face. “But they will. These…maggots are so persistent. And they’d sell their own mothers for a story. You have no idea how utterly ruthless, how reprehensible, they are.”
“Not your favorites,” he said dryly. “Okay, then let’s assume they’ll eventually find out how to get to my ranch. We’d better not be here when they arrive.”
“But where would we go that we’ll be safe from them and still be able to get in touch with Kerry and Prince Alexi when they finally show up?”
“Mrs. Jacks is gonna do her best to contact Kerry Lynn and the prince and warn them to stay away from town. And she’s telling the paparazzi a story about seeing someone who looked like the prince in a car at the Dairy Queen in Buda, which is out on Interstate 35.”
“Does Mrs. Jacks think the paparazzi will believe this story?”
Hank shrugged. “Who knows? But it’s the best we can do for now. There’s another possibility, one we haven’t considered until now.”
“What’s that?”
“That Kerry Lynn is running late, probably because the prince decided to take another detour,” he added with contempt, “and she needs to drive directly to the graduation ceremony.”
“So we’re going to her university?”
Hank nodded, then glanced at his watch. “I think it’s the only other place she might show up besides her house or where her momma works in Ranger Springs. We should have plenty of time to discover where the graduates are dressing, where the guests are sitting and so forth.”
“Is the school far away from here?”
“About a half hour to forty minutes,” Hank told her, pulling her up from the couch, “so you’d better get a move on. Wear something kind of casual—not one of those cold-weather power suits you’re so fond of—but not your jeans, either. And wear comfortable shoes because we may have to do a lot of walking.”
And he talked about her being bossy? “Very well. Anything else?”
“Put some sunscreen on your nose,” he said with a smile, giving it a tweak.
Just like that, she went from being slightly peeved to hopelessly smitten. How did this infuriating man make her emotions leap to extremes with the crook of his finger? In the past twenty-four hours she’d experienced tenderness, exasperation, frustration, desire and a dozen other feelings too jumbled to name.
Just thinking about the desire part…she wanted to crawl back into his large bed, pull the covers over them both and hide from the world for the next forty years or so. Maybe by then she’d become tired of his fantastic body, or annoyed with his teasing, or bored with his intelligence. Maybe then she could go about her life without constantly thinking of Hank McCauley.
“I’ve got to call Milos Anatole and tell him what’s happening,” Gwendolyn stated, trying to get her thoughts together on her job, not her personal life.
“It might be a good idea to have Pete Boedecker drive him in from Austin, just in case the prince shows up.”
“You’re right. I’ll have Pete prepare the Land Rover and pick him up.” She frowned. “But where could they stay where they won’t alert the paparazzi?”
“Tell them to get a room in San Marcus, although it won’t be easy with all the friends and family in town for the graduation. If they look around, they ought to be able to find a motel that isn’t too crowded where they can park the Land Rover in back.”
Gwendolyn was absolutely certain Milos would not be happy about checking out of the grand historic hotel in Austin to find a room that no one else wanted in a small college town, but she couldn’t help the situation. Hank’s suggestion made a lot of sense.
Forty-five minutes later, they parked the small pickup truck Hank had borrowed from Juan—just in case the reporters knew what his dually looked like—in the guest parking lot for the graduation ceremony. They were early, but as Hank had mentioned, they needed to explore the possible ways Kerry Lynn Jacks and Prince Alexi could enter the facility.
“I’m really not sure the prince would take part in such a public venue, even if he felt he was disguised.”
Hank gripped her hand and they started walking. “Who knows what this guy might do? All we know is that he won’t answer his damn phone or give you a call.”
That was true, but Gwendolyn didn’t want to start listing Alexi’s faults again, especially when Hank had added several new traits to the list. She decided to concentrate on walking beside Hank, hand in hand, as though they were a carefree couple out to see a family member or friend graduate. What could be so difficult about that?
They’d certainly done more than hold hands last night. She’d acted like a woman possessed, unable to keep her hands off Hank, unable to stop kissing him until they were both breathless. She’d never thought of herself as sensual, but in his arms, she felt as sexy as Madonna and as powerful as Oprah Winfrey. He’d been the most generous, the most glorious lover she could ever imagine. Her previous experiences paled in comparison to this marvelous joining of heart and body.
Even if it was temporary. Even if she did plan to leave Texas as soon as possible.
“If we see anyone I know, just smile and try not to say anything. If they ask you a direct question, you can tell them your name is Wendy and that you’re a…flight attendant or something.”
“A flight attendant?” She laughed. “Do you actually think I look like a flight attendant?”
“Sure. One of those classy ones on British Airways. Not Virgin Atlantic, mind you. That just sounds too weird.” Hank nodded. “Yeah, a British Airways flight attendant. We met at a party in Austin—mutual friends and all that.”
“What in the world would a flight attendant from British Airways be doing in Austin? We hardly fly there, you know.”
“Well, then, Dallas. I go up there every now and then.”
“Very good. And have we been dating long?”
“Naw. You don’t get to town often, but when you do, you’re hot to see me.”
“Oh, I am?”
He flashed her a grin. “Absolutely.”
Gwendolyn laughed. Pretending with Hank was fun, something she hadn’t expected today. With last night’s passion and this morning’s tabloid reporters breathing down their necks, the atmosphere should have been serious and tense. But then, when had she ever been able to anticipate what Hank would do or say?
“Just remember to cling to my arm and look up at me with adoration in those whiskey eyes of yours.”
“Whiskey eyes? I’m not sure that’s very flattering.”
“Darlin’, believe me, that’s real flattering. You’ve got genuine 100-proof, hickory-aged, finest Kentucky bourbon eyes if I’ve ever seen them.”
Gwendolyn laughed, then clung to his arm and looked up into his teasing blue eyes, batting her eyelashes and hoping she looked besotted. “How’s this?”
Hank narrowed his eyes and evaluated her critically. “No, that’s not quite right. I’m afraid anyone could see right through you.”
“Oh.” She’d actually thought she was being a clever actress, but she hardly stood a chance against Hank McCauley.
“We need to make this a little more genuine.” He placed his hands on either side of her head, sliding his fingers into the hair at her temples. “Hold on, darlin’.”
He kissed her then, while her lips were still parted and her mind frozen by his charm and good looks. She closed her eyes and groaned, easing her arms around his waist and grasping his hard, sculpted back with her hands. Hank was an expert kisser, but he added something beyond skill. Passion, sincerity and caring were part of the caress of his lips and tongue, and she never wanted it to end. Her head began to whirl. Slowly, she became aware that he was holding her tightly or she would have dissolved into a puddle on the concrete sidewalk.
As his lips eased from hers, she clung a moment longer, not wanting the contact to end. She felt so alone when he wasn’t touching her, she realized. She’d lived within her skin for twenty-nine years, and yet now she needed Hank to feel complete. Although the feeling didn’t make sense, she accepted it for what it was: a woman’s basic instinct to bond with a man—in this case, a very attractive, very virile man who made her feel things she’d never imagined.
She had the strangest desire to grip the fabric of Hank’s shirt and pull those pearl snaps apart, which was probably the reason cowboys wore them. Easy access to hard-muscled flesh and smooth, warm skin.
“Now you look like someone who’s hot to see me,” he said, his own voice a little shaky. He combed his fingers through her hair and smiled down at her. “I’m sure glad you’re here.”
“As the British Airways flight attendant or as the public relations director in hiding?”
“Just as you, Lady Wendy. Just you,” he said, lowering his head and kissing her gently again.
He took a deep breath, then said, “I guess we’d better start searching for Kerry Lynn and your runaway prince.”
Gwendolyn nodded, but inside she disagreed. Alexi wasn’t her prince; Hank was. He’d become the fantasy she’d never dare dream, the ideal man who made her feel like a woman. And he was so temporary, just a short detour in the course of her life. She didn’t want to think of leaving him so soon, but she must. She had duties and long-held goals that couldn’t be denied.
For today, she’d pretend to be that British Airways flight attendant who was so besotted with her Texas cowboy. She didn’t need to be much of an actress to pull it off.
THEY MANAGED TO GET GOOD seats near an aisle, so they could both look for Prince Alexi and beat the crowd to the graduates to talk to Kerry Lynn. Hank looked around for Mrs. Jacks and Kerry’s two sisters, but didn’t find them in the crowd. No telling where they were sitting; this wasn’t exactly like a football game, where the “visitors” sat on one side and the home team on the other. But it didn’t really matter where her family was as long as she was on that stage and the prince was watching from someplace close by.
Sitting patiently wasn’t Hank’s strong suit. He wished this was a sporting event so he could get a soft drink and some nachos. Instead, he fidgeted in his seat, stretching his legs out past the metal railing and shifting his weight from hip to hip until Wendy gave him a hard glare.
“I’m nervous enough without you making me crazy,” she whispered.
“Sorry. I’m just ready for this ceremony to begin.” He glanced at his watch. Any moment now he’d see Kerry march in. He scanned the audience. Where was the prince? Or had she dropped him off someplace? Maybe he didn’t care enough to watch Kerry Lynn graduate…the cad.
Just when Hank had worked up a head of steam over the prince, the graduates filed out of the backstage area to the folding seats set up down below. Wendy leaned forward, her eyes intent on the audience while Hank watched the graduates. He wasn’t sure what order they’d sit in, so he had to look at every young, fresh face. Kerry Lynn might be a few years older, but she didn’t look it. And with her petite figure, she’d be hard to spot.
She came in between a lineman-size guy and a tall redhead. Hank watched her take her seat and breathed a sigh of relief.
“She’s here. Do you think the prince is around?”
“I imagine he is. For one thing, I doubt he has anywhere else to go, since she is driving. And also, attending her graduation would be the polite thing to do.”
Hank snorted, focusing on Kerry Lynn. She sure looked okay. Happy, even. Kind of radiant. He supposed achieving her goals had made her feel pretty good about herself.
Suddenly she waved, her attention focused across the auditorium. Hank nudged Wendy, but when they both looked at the attendees seated there, there was no prince. Instead, Mrs. Jacks and her two other daughters waved cheerfully at Kerry Lynn.
Hank settled back while Wendy continued to scan the crowd. There wasn’t anything to do until the ceremony was over. Then he’d find Kerry and make her tell him where the prince was hiding.
But when the graduates had received their diplomas, turned their tassels to the other side of their cap and marched off to find their families, Hank suspected they’d been outfoxed by a petite blonde and a crafty prince.
Hank pulled Wendy through the crowd to find Mrs. Jacks, Kerry’s younger sisters, Carole and Cheryl, and Carole’s daughter, Jennifer. After he introduced Wendy, the British Airways flight attendant, to the other ladies, he asked, “Did you have anything planned with Kerry Lynn today?”
“No, we’ll have our regular family dinner tomorrow after church, and then a little party for Kerry and her friends in the afternoon. I thought you’d gotten your invitation, Hank,” Mrs. Jacks said.
“It must have slipped my mind,” he answered, thinking about the stack of unread personal mail on his desk. “So, you don’t have any idea where she might have run off to?”
“I just can’t imagine,” Carole said, frowning. “Why isn’t she here with us now?”
Mrs. Jacks fidgeted with her purse strap. “Maybe she has some friends waiting for her. Or a good friend,” she added.
“Where?” Wendy asked, leaning forward. Hank knew she was anxious, but now that Kerry Lynn had attended her graduation ceremony, he wasn’t in any hurry to find the prince.
“I have no idea,” Mrs. Jacks replied.
“I sure would like to congratulate her on her graduation. If you hear from Kerry, please ask her to call me,” Hank said, tugging on Wendy’s hand before she asked any more questions in front of Kerry’s two inquisitive sisters and young niece.
“Nice to meet all of you,” Wendy said as he pulled her away from the Jacks family.
“That was rather abrupt,” she said breathlessly after they stepped out of the flow of folks hugging and smiling with the graduates.
“Sorry, but I was afraid you might sound suspicious to her sisters if you asked anything else.”
Wendy took a deep breath and sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I was just so sure we’d find them…”
WENDY INSISTED THEY WAIT until everyone had left the auditorium, just in case Kerry Lynn and the prince materialized, so they stood around and said hello to a few folks he knew. Wendy played her role of adoring flight attendant to perfection. Although he knew he’d conditioned her to react in a believable manner, he felt as if he was looking into the eyes of someone who really cared for him as a man and not as a former champion or a “good catch” among the other cowboys of the area.
But he’d felt like this before, from the first buckle bunny who’d grabbed on to his belt loops at age seventeen, to the last one who’d amicably departed after he’d bought her a new custom saddle with silver conchos. He’d always wanted to believe women were sincere where he was concerned, but he’d learned that either they were deluding themselves, or downright lying to get whatever they could from him.
Lady Wendy had always made it clear that she needed him for one purpose—pretend to be the prince. But what had happened beside the pool and continued last night in his bedroom had nothing to do with his “duties” to impersonate the prince. There had been a depth of emotions involved in their relationship that went far beyond easing an itch that needed to be scratched.
Wendy hadn’t needed or wanted just any man; she’d wanted him. And Hank knew he couldn’t forget that fact, no matter if or when the prince returned, no matter whether Wendy returned to Belegovia today, tomorrow or next week. He knew he’d feel the same way about her next month, next year, and that scared all the “aw, shucks” and “gee, ma’am” one-liners right out of him.
When no one had exited in ten minutes or so, he said, “Let’s go get some dinner. We haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, and although that prince has almost killed my appetite, we need to keep up our strength.”
Wendy nodded. They walked hand and hand back to Juan’s pickup. “I think I’ll call Juan and see if anyone approached him in my dually, or if anyone has been around the ranch.”
“Good idea. I’ll call Milos and see if he and Mr. Boedecker managed to find a room here in town.”
They spent a few minutes on their respective cell phones at the truck. Wendy finished first, then leaned against the Nissan’s fender and waited for him to hang up.
“Okay, thanks, Thelma. I appreciate the information.”
“What did you discover?”
“The reporters know about Kerry Lynn. I’m not sure how, but they’re convinced the prince is in Ranger Springs, having a torrid affair with a local waitress.”
“That sounds just like the paparazzi, only their headline would be more insulting.”
“I think maybe Thelma cleaned it up, considering it’s a local girl they’re talkin’ about.” Hank shook his head. “Damn that prince.”
Wendy put her hands on her hips. “And what about Kerry Lynn Jacks’s responsibility? The prince didn’t force her to take him with her. All he did was ask and she jumped at the opportunity.”
“That’s bull! You make her sound like she’s some gold digger. She’s not.”
“I never said any such thing!”
“You need to be angry at the person who caused this mess. Your prince.”
“He’s not my prince. He’s my friend.”
“Right. And at the moment, you’re as mad as a hornet over his behavior.”
“Oh! Right now, it’s you I’m angry with. You and your Kerry Lynn.”
“She’s not my Kerry Lynn!”
“So you say,” Wendy said in a huff. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “I think you’re still smitten with her.”
“Smitten?” Hank shook his head and scoffed. “That’s the craziest thing you’ve said. I already told you about Kerry Lynn and me.”
“You seem awfully concerned for someone who’s just a friend. Or was it more like a big brother?”
Hank put his hands on his hips and glared. “A big brother, and yeah, I care. She doesn’t have a brother, or a daddy, or any other man to stand up for her. She’s helped support that family for years and she deserved to walk across that stage and get her diploma. She deserves happiness more than any of those pampered kids who had Mommy and Daddy pay for everything.”
Wendy still didn’t look convinced, although she was weakening. “Besides, taking care of one another is what we do around here. Looking out for our friends, being family even though we aren’t related by blood. That’s what living in this small town is all about, and I’ll be darned if I let you put some kind of twisted meaning to it because you’re jealous.”
Wendy looked at him with her eyes wide, then her bottom lip started to tremble. To his shock, tears sprang to her eyes and her face fell.
“Dammit, don’t cry,” he said softly as he pulled her in his arms.
“I can’t help it,” she sobbed. “You’re right. You’re so right.”
“I was angry.”
“But you’re right. I’m so jealous I can’t think straight.” She sniffed against his shirtfront. “Not of Kerry Lynn and you, although that’s what I thought at first. I’m really jealous of the way everyone cares for everyone else. How your friend took care of your ranch, how you talk about Mrs. Jacks. The picture you painted with your words about how everyone looks out for one another.” She gulped in a breath of air and sobbed, “I want to feel that way.”
“Ah, Gwendolyn. Ah, honey,” he whispered as he held her tight. He didn’t know what to say in the face of such naked emotion. He’d thought of her as competent, talented and sexy, but he hadn’t seen the little girl inside who was still looking for her father’s approval and her family’s support. To her, Ranger Springs must seem like heaven on earth.
“Don’t you apologize. You’re entitled to your feelings.”
Her hands held tight to his back. “You’re a very nice man, you know that?”
He felt a little misty-eyed at the moment. “Don’t you tell that to anyone else, you hear?” he teased to ease the feelings. “Now, why don’t we get some food and forget about Kerry Lynn and Alexi for a few hours?”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“I’ll have Juan drive over to the ranch and we can exchange pickups later tonight.”
“Okay.”
He rubbed her shoulders while she rested her cheek against his shirt. “You know the best thing?”
“No. What?”
“We get to spend another night together.”
She looked up at him, blinking away the tears she’d shed moments ago. “There is that,” she whispered.