The cell phone rang just as they were leaving San Marcus. Gwendolyn checked the caller ID on the display, but all it read was Out of Area. With a trembling finger, she pressed the answer button.
“Lady Gwendolyn, is that you?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she said in her professional voice. The one she hadn’t used for hours, maybe days.
“I have received some alarming news from the information officer at the palace. Let me read you the headline—Prince Seduces Schoolgirl Waitress. According to an Internet Web site, my son is having a torrid affair with a young woman in some small Texas town I’ve never heard of before. Ranger Springs, I believe. The article says she is a waitress at a truck stop and attends school at a nearby college. This headline makes my son sound like a child molester!”
Gwendolyn winced. “I assure you, King Wilheim, your son is not in Ranger Springs conducting an affair with anyone.”
“The Web site has photos!”
“Really? Well, it just so happens that I know the true explanation,” she replied, crossing her fingers. “That is actually a photo of a local horse trainer and former rodeo cowboy named Hank McCauley. He bears a remarkable resemblance to Prince Alexi, and his former girlfriend is a twenty-eight-year-old woman who is graduating from the university just this weekend.”
She imagined him perusing the photo as silence continued on the phone line. “Have you seen this Hank McCauley?”
She hesitated a moment, thinking of all the ways she’d seen Hank. Laughing, studious, irritated, teasing…naked. “Yes, I have.”
“And you can assure me that it is he, not my son, who is in this photograph?”
“Absolutely, Your Majesty.”
She imagined him nodding, a frown on his high forehead. “Very well, then. We will issue a press release from here at the palace. Alexi needs to make an appearance immediately, even if he must be lifted from his sickbed. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“An appearance with this Hank McCauley would be even better. Call the man and see if you can arrange it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Yes, I know you will. We must not let this scandalous inference get out of hand. The paparazzi will hound us to death if they sense a weakness. Right before Alexi makes his choice of a bride is not the time to link him with a scandal.”
“I totally agree, Your Majesty. I will talk to Mr. McCauley and contact you immediately when I have arranged something.” She just hoped the “something” she arranged was not a statement that the prince was indeed missing…with the “schoolgirl” waitress.
“Good. We are depending on you, Lady Gwendolyn.”
“I know, Your Majesty, and I appreciate your trust.”
She ended the call when the monarch said goodbye, then leaned her head back against the seat.
“Bad news, hmm?”
“A photo that I assume is of you and Kerry Lynn is now posted on an Internet Web site specializing in royal scandals. It was brought to King Wilheim’s attention, and since it is past midnight right now in Belegovia, I assure you he is extremely upset about the scandalous accusation that Prince Alexi has seduced a schoolgirl who also works as a waitress.”
“Damn.”
Gwendolyn closed her eyes. “My sentiments exactly.”
THEY STOPPED FOR MEXICAN food at an out-of-the-way family-owned restaurant in a little town that probably wasn’t on the map. Hank had said he was going the “back way” to Ranger Springs and Gwendolyn felt thoroughly lost. Not that she needed to know where they were going, she told herself. Since Alexi hadn’t shown up, she had nowhere to go, nothing to do except wait for the other shoe to drop. She certainly didn’t need to spend hours “finding” Hank and “convincing” him to cooperate in a joint press conference.
The late afternoon was hot, but then, the weather had been hot and dry for the entire trip, so that wasn’t anything new. Somehow she wished the sun had already set so they would be more invisible to the paparazzi and tabloid reporters. If two of them were in Ranger Springs this morning, more had probably shown up by now. She hadn’t shared that piece of information with Hank, however, because it wouldn’t do any good to worry or upset him. He’d been such a champ about this situation, going well beyond his duty to help her search for the prince and avoid negative publicity.
Hank knew the family who operated the restaurant, so she suspected he came here regularly. He also ordered for her, an action which usually irritated her when men made that assumption, but tonight barely caused a ripple.
“What did you order?” she asked when the short, cheerful woman with dark hair and eyes left for the kitchen. Hank had called out names for the platters based on Texas cities along the border with Mexico.
“A sour cream chicken enchilada, a cheese enchilada with red sauce, and a crispy beef taco, with re-fried beans and rice.”
“That sounds like a lot of food.”
“We haven’t eaten since breakfast and I wasn’t sure what you liked. Have you ever eaten Mexican food before coming to Texas?”
“No, except for the nachos along the Riverwalk. There are a few restaurants in London now. I’m sure it’s different here in Texas.”
“Probably. I’m havin’ a hard time picturin’ Tex-Mex served with a British accent, but I suppose it works,” he drawled, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
Gwendolyn looked at him across the table, where a bottle of beer sat by his plate and a glass of sangria waited for her to sip. The restaurant situation wasn’t so different from the two of them, she thought. Texas and Great Britain locking horns, so to speak, at every opportunity. Misunderstanding each other on occasion. But could they coexist, even thrive, like the Mexican restaurants in London?
And why was she even thinking these thoughts when she would be leaving, one way or another, very soon?
“Thank you again for your patience,” she said. “Today was futile, but you’re right. We had no place else to search.”
“What are you going to do if he doesn’t show up tomorrow?”
Gwendolyn sighed and picked up her wine. “I suppose I’ll have to admit the truth to King Wilheim, then contact the authorities.”
“We could run something by Ethan Parker first if you’d like. He’s the chief of police and a personal friend. He might have some ideas.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather not involve anyone else, especially someone who might be obligated to report the prince as missing.”
Hank frowned. “I don’t think Ethan—”
“Please, let’s just drop the subject for now. I don’t want to think about the prince or his continued disappearance.” She took a sip of the sweet wine, then rested her forearms on the table. “You were right about me being angry with him, but I’d also like to understand why he does these foolish things. It’s almost as if he’s trying to get into trouble.”
“Maybe he wants to get caught.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps getting engaged and eventually married will settle him down.”
Hank snorted in a most unbelieving manner. “That just doesn’t happen. Women want to believe it does, but marriage never settled anyone down who didn’t want to commit to one woman and one bedpost where he can rest his hat.”
She tilted her head and studied him. “Is that why you’ve never married? You’ve never felt the urge to settle down with one woman?”
“Darlin’, I’m pretty settled. I have my own ranch, I built my own house, and it’s sort of decorated. I have a good life, and just because I don’t have a wife to interfere with my horse training and traveling doesn’t mean I’m shiftless.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were shiftless. I just wondered why you’ve never found one woman to share your life.”
He was obviously uncomfortable with the subject, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swallow of beer. Finally he plunked the bottle on the table. “Okay, I admit I’ve never found the right woman. But I’m not lookin’, either. When I start lookin’, I’ll find someone, but I have some pretty strong standards.”
“I believe you.”
“Women complicate things,” he explained, frowning at the bowl of chips and salsa on the table. “They want to change you, and they want you to prove you love them.”
“Really? I’ve never really thought about relationships from that angle.”
“Well, it’s the truth,” Hank stated, still frowning. “I’ve never known a woman who didn’t constantly nag at a man to change the way he dressed, the people he hung around with, the hobbies he enjoyed. Nag, nag, nag. And then they want you to go shopping with them. They start asking your opinion of their clothes, their jewelry and their hair. And watch out if you ever give the wrong answer! You’ll be sleepin’ in the doghouse for a week.”
Gwendolyn laughed at the picture he painted, which she was fairly certain was another McCauley exaggeration. “Surely not everyone you know has this type of relationship.”
“Maybe not all of them, but from personal experience, I know I seem to attract that type of woman.”
What about me? The thought popped into Gwendolyn’s head completely unexpected…and unwelcome, she told herself. She had not planned to audition for Hank McCauley’s version of the perfect woman. The only man she wanted to please at the moment was King Wilheim, and she was fairly certain that wasn’t going to happen.
“So what about you? Why haven’t you found your own personal prince to keep you warm through those long winters?”
“That’s a rather short, boring subject. I simply haven’t had time.”
“You work day and night?”
“Not exactly, but my schedule doesn’t permit much flexibility. I work erratic hours and I need to be on call for any emergencies.”
“With that damned prince, I can see how that could happen.”
“Really, he doesn’t do things like this often.”
“If I ever have the misfortune to meet the guy, I’m likely to give him a piece of my mind—and maybe give him a taste of Texas justice.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” She definitely didn’t want Hank and Alexi fighting. Besides the fact they were evenly matched, the reasons for conflict were too muddied to be settled with fists. The best solution was for Alexi to slip out of this country quietly after the press conference the king wanted, leaving no problems behind.
“I’m just warnin’ you, darlin’. You’d better keep that prince away from me, especially if he’s messed with Kerry Lynn’s head.”
“Could we change the subject? I thought we weren’t going to talk about him any longer.”
“You’re right.” The waitress brought their orders on platters she warned were very hot. Steam wafted the heady fragrance of beans, rice, peppers and various sauces from the food spread before them.
“This might be your last dinner in Texas,” Hank said in a serious tone after she’d taken a bite. “I thought you should eat something authentic, in a down-home restaurant rather than one of those chains.”
“Thank you. That’s very thoughtful.”
“And a little bit selfish,” he admitted. “I wanted you to remember Texas…and me…with fondness. This trip hasn’t been easy on you, I know, and you’d be justified if you wanted to put the whole fiasco out of your head. But we had some good times, too, and I’d like for you to remember those instead.”
She leaned across the table and took his hand. “I will. I promise. I’ll never forget the time I spent here with you.”
He looked so serious, so unlike the Hank who usually smiled and teased his way through life. This Hank was a man with something on his mind, something weighty and intense.
She almost asked him about his feelings, but then decided to wait. Or maybe she’d never have the nerve. Maybe she didn’t want to know. She took a deep breath and looked away from his blue eyes.
The moment passed as she released his hand. They both returned their attention to their dinners, but Gwendolyn barely tasted the fragrant food. Her awareness was centered on Hank…and all the words left unsaid between them.
They drove back to his ranch at sunset. Gwendolyn admired the coral, pink and purple clouds, trying not to think about tonight, which must be her last with Hank. She simply couldn’t tolerate another day, wondering how many more hours she’d have with him. Wondering if she’d be able to depart with her dignity intact. She had to choose the time of their parting rather than leaving it to fate. Tomorrow morning, whether or not the prince showed up, she was leaving Hank’s ranch. She’d swallow her pride, reveal her deception to King Wilheim, and call the Texas authorities to find Alexi.
But tonight, Hank was still all hers.
The coast was clear as they parked Juan’s pickup in front of the house. The dually was already in back of the house, out of sight of the road. While Gwendolyn walked into the dark house, Hank and Juan talked for a moment. A few minutes later she heard the crunch of gravel as Hank’s worker drove away.
The quiet of the night pressed down on her as Hank shut and locked the door. His footsteps rang loud and clear as he walked across the tile floor toward her.
“Stay with me tonight,” he said as he took her in his arms.
She couldn’t speak, but nodded against his chest as her arms curled up his back. He was warm, solid and very real. Tonight he was all hers; tomorrow she would walk away from him, his ranch, and everything that had become dear to her in the past several days.
He bent his head and captured her lips, their tongues mating in a familiar yet exciting dance. He tasted of spicy Tex-Mex food and beer, a flavor she would always associate with her time with Hank, although she doubted she would ever sample that type of food again. The memories would be too strong, the emotions too overwhelming.
He skimmed his hands up her back, then deftly unfastened her bra beneath her cotton sweater. Gwendolyn sighed as he massaged the tightness from her muscles. She pulled his shirt free from his jeans and ran her hands along his spine, loving the feel of him beneath her fingers. No other man felt like Hank, so warm and solid. She wanted to taste him all over.
Without warning he scooped down, grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her against his arousal. Gwendolyn gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist, silently blessing the skirt she’d worn today. She held tight as he began to walk out of the kitchen toward his bedroom. Toward the bed that had been so welcoming last night…and early this morning.
She ran her tongue along the column of his neck. “You taste good,” she whispered into his ear.
Hank shuddered. “I’m probably sweaty.”
“Salty,” she replied. “I like salty.”
He lowered her to the bed slowly, keeping her pressed against him, her legs locked around his waist. “You are so beautiful,” he said, leaning down and spreading her hair across the pillow, “especially when your eyes get all dreamy and your lips part like you’re just waiting for me to kiss you.”
“I am waiting,” she said softly. “Kiss me now.”
“Still demanding,” he replied with a smile. “Whatever my lady wants.”
His lady. She could only wish that were true. Then he kissed her and she forgot to wish, forgot to think. He lowered himself onto the mattress and moved against her until she gasped.
“I want you naked,” she whispered as she grabbed his shirt, then gave in to her urge and pulled the snaps apart. His hands were in the way, busy undressing her. Finally he had her bare to the waist. She pushed his shirt down his arms. The feel of his bare chest against her breasts was heavenly, but soon it wasn’t enough.
They rolled away in unison, quickly removing the rest of their clothes, and then she was back in his arms. His mouth moved from her lips, down her neck and to her breast. As she gasped, his mouth closed around her nipple. The sensation was so wonderful that she moaned aloud.
“Love me,” she gasped.
“Gwendolyn,” he whispered against her damp, heated flesh, “what am I going to do without you?”
How could she answer such a question when she could barely remember her name? Then his lips trailed lower and she gasped again, grabbing the bed linens to keep from spinning off the mattress.
She couldn’t stop touching him, running her hands over his hard body, memorizing every part of him. When he donned protection and joined his body with hers, the tears that she’d held in check slipped from her eyes. She moved with him, spiraling higher, flying beyond the limits of flesh and blood. With a cry she convulsed, holding him tight, feeling him surge one last time before he gasped her name and shuddered his completion.
She wasn’t sure how many minutes passed until their breathing returned to normal. Eventually she became aware that the room was cool, the sheets were crisp, and she was holding Hank tight. She didn’t want to let him go, she realized. Not tonight, not tomorrow.
As if he could read her mind, he whispered, “Stay with me tomorrow. For a week, or two weeks, or however long you can be away.”
“I can’t,” she said against his chest. “I have to go back to my real life. To my career.”
“Why?”
Because it’s all I have. The answer popped into her head like a revelation from above. At the same time, she wanted to deny the truth. She was not some pitiful, aging career woman with no prospects. These were the best years of her life. She had a wonderful job, and most of the time she adored the people she worked with. Yes, her family didn’t understand her need to succeed, but she had friends. She had a life in Belegovia and in England.
“People depend on me,” she said carefully. “As soon as Prince Alexi decides on a bride, I’ll need to help prepare her for the media onslaught. Then I’ll work with the wedding planner to coordinate everything.”
“Someone else’s bride. Someone else’s wedding.”
“That’s my job,” she said softly.
“Stay,” he said, propping himself on one elbow to look down at her.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
He looked at her for a long time, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly. “Then stay the night.”
Gwendolyn nodded, framing his beloved face with her hands. “One more night.”
THE PHONE WOKE THEM to predawn grayness. Hank jumped up from a night of intermittent sleep, punctuated with dreams of Gwendolyn walking away while he ran to catch her, but never gained any ground. He shook his head and reached for the receiver.
“This better be important.”
“It is,” the voice on the other end said in hushed tones.
“Kerry Lynn?” At his words, Gwendolyn stirred beside him and sat up, hugging the sheet to her breasts. “Where in the hell are you?”
“In the office of the Four Square Café. We’re kind of trapped here.”
“We? Is the prince with you?”
“Yes.”
“Kerry Lynn, what were you thinking?”
He heard her sigh, then nothing. She must have placed her hand over the mouthpiece. In a moment she whispered fiercely, “Hank, don’t start in on me. I’m not apologizing to you or anyone for what I did.”
“That damned prince is more important than your family?”
“Look, my mother and my sisters will understand. They’ll be there for me today and tomorrow and forever, but Alexi is leaving—”
“The sooner the better.”
“Don’t start in on him. I mean it, Hank. I didn’t call you to hear the outraged older-brother routine, although you’re darned good at it.”
“I’m serious, Kerry. Do you have any idea how long we’ve been looking for the two of you? That damned prince is supposed to be touring Texas, kissing babies and eating with the governor!”
“First of all, his name is Alexi. Except sometimes I call him Mack. And he’s not a damned prince, he’s a man who needed a break.”
“Without thinking of what he did to the rest of the world. Wendy has just about gone nuts trying to find him.”
“Wendy?”
“Er, Lady Gwendolyn Reed. Ask your boyfriend. He knows very well who she is.”
“Yes, he told me she’d handle everything.”
“With no help from him!” Wendy placed a hand on his arm and shook her sleep-tousled hair. Hank swiveled his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “Look, Kerry, we have a problem. There are tabloid reporters lurking around town. They’ve gotten the idea that the prince is having a torrid affair with a local girl—you.”
“Gee, ya think?” she replied in that saucy tone that had always made him want to spank her bottom—in a very big-brotherly fashion. “Why do you imagine we’ve been hiding out in the apartment over the café all night?”
“All night?” Hank frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. “I didn’t even know there was an apartment up there.”
“Yes, and it’s been empty for a long time. The point is, those reporters are staying at that little bed-and-breakfast that just opened on the other side of the square above Robin Parker’s antique shop. For all we know, they could be watching the café as we speak.”
“Well, don’t let them see you together!”
“I hadn’t planned on it, you big goober. I don’t think they know my car, so I’m hopeful we can make it out the back door, take the alley to the one-way street on the other side of the square, and circle around. The question is, where can we go?”
“They’ll be watching your mother’s house,” Hank said thoughtfully. “We need a neutral place, but I don’t want to risk driving all over the countryside until we can meet up. Tell Alexi that Milos Anatole and the driver, Pete Boedecker, are at the Motel 6 in San Marcus.”
He heard Kerry talking, then she came back on the phone. “We could meet someplace around here, then drive to San Marcus together and meet up with them. Is Lady Gwendolyn staying at the same motel?”
“Uh, no, she’s not.” Hank glanced behind him at Wendy’s frowning, confused features. “We decided it would be better if she were here at the house for when the prince showed up.”
“So go wake her up and tell her what’s going on.”
“She’s already up.”
Silence. “Hank, is she right there?”
“None of your business, squirt.”
“So you can hand her the phone?”
“I can do that, but first we need to decide where to meet. How about behind the Kash ’n’ Karry?”
“Too public,” Kerry objected. “Someone might be there early.”
“What about the old homestead on Travis’s property? That’s on the back way to San Marcus, and we can leave your car there.”
“Okay. When can you get there?”
He looked back at Wendy. “Give us thirty minutes.”
“Okay,” Kerry said with a sigh. “Thanks, Hank.”
“That’s okay, squirt. I know this wasn’t your fault.”
“You don’t know any such thing,” she said before she disconnected the call.
“Damn,” he said, rubbing his hand across his face. “This isn’t the way I wanted to start the morning.”
“Yes,” Wendy said, rolling toward the other side of the bed. “But we knew this was coming.”
He leaned back and captured her hand before she gathered her clothes and headed for the bathroom. “I wasn’t ready for the morning to come so quickly,” he confessed.
“But it was inevitable, wasn’t it?” she answered softly. “The night is over.” Taking a deep breath, she hugged her jeans and cotton sweater to her chest before escaping to the privacy of the guest bath off the hall.
Hank didn’t want to hurry but knew they didn’t have much time. He rushed through a shower and didn’t bother to shave. Pulling on his jeans and a clean shirt, he thought about Wendy. She was probably plotting the switch, wording statements in her head and preparing plausible explanations for everything that the tabloid reporters thought they knew.
Would she have even a moment to think about last night? He hoped the hell she did. If he was going to be miserable, he wanted her to share some of his pain. He wanted to know she regretted their parting. He wanted her to feel the loss, like someone was slowly tearing off a limb or removing a vital organ.
He’d done the impossible; he’d fallen in love with exactly the wrong kind of woman at the worst possible moment.