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“Is this a problem?”
“It may be. You see, we have two events in San Antonio, a dinner in Austin, then we hoped to meet with the president if he is going to be at his ranch for the weekend.”
“I guess you don’t want to stand up the president.”
“I don’t want to cancel any of these events. Prince Alexi can be…difficult, but I certainly didn’t expect him to leave me in the lurch.”
“So, are you and this prince an item?”
“I beg your pardon!” If possible, her spine got even straighter. He could probably bounce a quarter off her deltoids.
“You know what I mean. This sounds a bit personal. Are you and the prince…involved?”
“Absolutely not! I’ve known Prince Alexi Ladislas since we were both public-school mates in England, and I’ve never considered him anything more than a friend.”
“Ah, so it is personal.”
“Not in that manner.”
“But he’s your friend, meaning he let you down.”
Lady Wendy seemed to deflate just a bit. “I should have anticipated something like this. There was an unfortunate incident with an actress in Monaco last fall…” She seemed to shake herself away from her memories. “He’s been restless lately, more so since we’d planned this trip to the States.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you, Lady Wendy. That prince is sure not hiding out on my ranch.”
“No, but for all intents and purposes, he could be here.”
“What do you mean by that?”
She took another deep breath, then bent forward just enough to pull that silky material tight against her breasts. “You really are the very image of Prince Alexi, Mr. McCauley. With just a proper—I mean a similar—haircut and his wardrobe, I know that we’d be well on our way to—”
“Whoa! You want me to pretend to be this prince until he shows up?”
“Exactly,” she answered with more enthusiasm than he could have imagined. “With any luck, we’ll be able to contact Prince Alexi within twenty-four hours. I’m sure he’ll see reason and return to his entourage. Unfortunately, canceling the events until his return would appear suspicious, even if I were to come up with a good excuse.”
“Why? Is he involved in something shady?”
“Shady?”
“You know…illegal, immoral or just a little crooked.”
“Absolutely not! He’s a fine, upstanding man from one of Europe’s oldest royal families. He’s educated, intelligent and heir to a kingdom.”
Hank narrowed his eyes. “You sure you aren’t sweet on this guy?”
“No! And besides, even if I were, that’s beside the point.”
“Which is…?”
“I need your assistance, Mr. McCauley, and I’m prepared to make it worth your while.”
“How’s that?”
“While the treasury of Belegovia does not rival those of Great Britain or the Arab world, I can offer you a substantial fee for only a few days of your time.”
Hank shook his head. “I’ve got chores to do, horses to tend. Twenty-five bags of sweet feed are bein’ unloaded this afternoon. This ranch doesn’t run by itself, Lady Wendy.”
“Surely you can hire someone to fill in for a few days. If we get started immediately, I can have any alterations made to the wardrobe, brief you on the itinerary and give you some lessons on protocol.”
“Protocol, hmm? In other words, you’d tell me what to do and say. Tell me, Lady Wendy, how are you gonna explain my Texas accent?”
“I would, of course, give you elocution lessons.”
“You’d teach me to speak like some foreign prince in less than a day? I don’t think so.”
“Prince Alexi speaks English flawlessly. He grew up in England while his family was in exile. He even lived in the States for five years before returning to Belegovia.”
“Did he live in Texas?”
“No, Boston.”
“Then he might as well talk like you, Lady Wendy, because Texans can barely understand those fast-talking Yankees.”
“Surely with a little practice…”
Hank shook his head. “No offense, Lady Wendy, but I don’t think you’ve thought this plan through. Maybe it would be best to just tell everyone he’s sick. Food poisoning, or a summer cold. Those can be pretty nasty.”
“I’ve always found the ‘sudden illness’ reason generates rabid speculation by the press. The tabloids might fabricate ridiculous stories that would make Prince Alexi’s character seem in question. He’s never taken drugs, nor does he drink to excess, but that is the first thing they would write. No, I simply cannot suddenly state that he is ill. Besides, any sickness serious enough to warrant canceling the trip would worry his family needlessly.”
“You could always tell them the truth, that he’s run off for a couple of days,” Hank suggested gently.
“I can’t do that to the king. Although I didn’t grow up in Belegovia, I’ve grown quite fond of the country and the royal family.”
“I’m just not sure I can help you. I’ve never really tried, but I don’t think I’m much of an actor.” He’d talked to one of those Hollywood types about a role in a film once while a movie company had been in Austin, but Hank just didn’t see himself as a either a “pretty boy” or a thug, and he sure didn’t want to play some stereotypical Texas cowboy. He sure wasn’t a prince. Nope, he was a horse trainer now.
She seemed to deflate, slumping back against the sofa. The fire went out of her pretty whiskey-colored eyes. “I’d so counted on a successful trip…the triumph that would bring needed revenues into Belegovia. The country has come so far in so few years, but King Wilheim has such plans…plans Prince Alexi shares. But as of this morning, he’s off with a petite blond waitress from that truck stop on the interstate, and I—”
“Kerry Lynn? He’s gone and run off with Kerry Lynn Jacks?”
“I believe that is her name. As a matter of fact, she gave me the idea of asking you to fill in for the prince—indirectly, of course, since she had no idea she would be running off with the prince at the time—when she mentioned you and she were once involved.”
“Not serious. But that’s beside the point. What in the world was Kerry Lynn thinkin’, runnin’ off with some foreign prince?”
“I believe he was being noble at the time. Something about her unreliable car and a trip to see some relatives…Besides, he can be most compelling when he applies himself.”
“But still, she’s no fool. He must have fed her a line of bull.” Hank shook his finger at the British lady as he leaned forward. “If that prince so much as lays a finger on her, he’ll be answerin’ to me!”
“She kissed him!”
“What?” He slumped back into the recliner.
“Right there in the truck stop, she kissed him. She thought he was you, and she threw her arms about his neck quite enthusiastically and kissed him on the mouth.”
Hank smiled. “Kerry is a bit impulsive. I hadn’t been by to visit in quite a while and I suppose she was just glad to see me.” Hank rubbed his bristly chin. “Say, what date is this, anyway?”
“Wednesday, May 8.”
“Dang it! I’ll bet Kerry thought I was bringing her a graduation present. She’s getting her degree from Southwest Texas State University on Saturday.”
Lady Wendy looked a bit green. “How old is this young woman?”
“Well, she’s three years younger than me, so that would make her twenty-eight.”
The lady seemed to relax. “I thought for a moment that Prince Alexi had run off with someone…younger.”
He almost heard her unspoken words—much younger. Jailbait younger. Hank had to chuckle despite the serious situation of Kerry being off on her own with some foreign prince. “She’s been going to college part-time for as long as I can remember ’cause she helps her mother and sisters by working as a waitress.”
“If she’s graduating on Saturday, surely she won’t be gone long. Today’s Wednesday. If you’ll agree to stand in for the prince, I’m sure it would only be for a day or two. Miss Jacks will return with him, you and Prince Alexi can switch places, and we’ll continue the tour as planned.”
Hank shook his head again. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m a Texan, not some fancy foreigner. I can’t talk like I grew up in Europe and lived in god-awful Boston for five years.”
Lady Wendy brightened. “If that’s your only objection, then we’ll give you a sore throat. Laryngitis won’t cause any suspicion from the press.”
“Whoa, now! I didn’t say that was my only objection. I’d like to point out I don’t exactly act like a prince.”
“I can teach you.”
Hank settled back against the body-warmed leather and thought about the offer. A couple of days with Lady Wendy, learning to be a prince. No doubt eating with his pinkie sticking out. He almost grimaced at the image. For all he knew, this Prince Alexi was some dandified intellectual who knew all about Beethoven and nothing about George Strait. He probably thought Garth Brooks was some little ol’ stream in Wisconsin.
On the other hand, it wouldn’t hurt to learn some manners. Like how to eat those tiny snacks they always served at country clubs. How to order something besides a longneck if he wanted a drink. How to wear something besides new jeans and a clean shirt when he wanted to dress up.
Rich cutting-horse owners often asked him to join them in their boxes during competitions. He also had to go to cocktail parties and some fancy dinners in Houston and Dallas—sometimes even outside of Texas—to meet the kind of people who could afford a twenty- to fifty-thousand-dollar horse. He knew he needed some polish, but so far he’d gotten by with his grin and his championship bronc-riding buckle.
If anyone could make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear in just a day or two, Hank had a real good idea Lady Wendy was the person. She’d at least give it a good British try, he thought with a grin.
“You know, I could probably call Kerry’s momma, Charlene Jacks, at the Four Square Café to find out where they all went,” Hank said.
“But you don’t quite understand, Mr. McCauley. If the prince doesn’t want to be found, if he doesn’t want to come back, nothing will convince him otherwise. I think our time will be best spent training you for tomorrow’s events, then we can find the prince. Or perhaps he will come back. He always does.”
Hank thought about this for a moment. He really didn’t want to end this opportunity so quickly, even if they could locate the prince and convince him to come back. Plus he was very intrigued by the formidable Lady Wendy.
She’d looked so forlorn at the prospect of failing. He wasn’t sure why this job was so important to her—she wasn’t from Belegovia, and she’d claimed she wasn’t sweet on the prince—but whatever the reason, all the starch had gone out of her when he’d questioned her plan. He wasn’t sure he could act like some European prince, but he couldn’t live with the idea that he’d failed her.
“Laryngitis, hmm?” he asked, still grinning. “I’ll cut my hair. I’ll even wear this prince’s fancy clothes. But don’t think I’m gonna stick out my pinkie when I drink out of one of those sissy china cups.”
GWENDOLYN SUPPRESSED A sigh of relief when Mr. McCauley acquiesced to her plan for him to impersonate the prince. At least he’d give it a good try, she was sure, because for some reason he’d decided to help her. It wasn’t the money; something else motivated Hank McCauley. Perhaps he wasn’t as broke or lazy as he appeared. She certainly wished she knew what did motivate him, since she would no doubt need that knowledge later, when instructions were going poorly and he threatened to walk out. Which he probably would.
Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely certain she could turn this casual, flirting, unrefined cowboy into Prince Alexi in less than twenty-four hours. However, the idea of reporting her failure to King Wilheim was unconscionable. She had to try. And Milos Anatole, Prince Alexi’s valet, would help tremendously.
The idea of telling her father she’d been dismissed from her first independent job, especially one with the royal house of Belegovia, was appalling.
“Very good, then, Mr. McCauley. If you’d like to pack a small bag with any personal toiletries, we’ll be off.”
“Whoa, now. I have to make arrangements for someone else to help Juan take care of my stock. I can’t just walk away from seventeen horses, four laying Rhode Island Reds, and the best mouser in the state of Texas.”
Gwendolyn wasn’t sure what he was talking about—probably some types of animals—but he sounded responsible for them. “Perhaps this Juan person can handle the task. Or surely you have a friend or a neighbor who can help.”
“Well now, I have somebody I can call, but I’ve got to see if he’s available. He’s got his own place to take care of.”
Gwendolyn glanced at her watch. If they got on the road within the hour, they could arrive in San Antonio before two o’clock that afternoon. That would give her nearly twenty hours—if they had to work through the night—to get Mr. McCauley ready for the children’s hospital and zoo appearances tomorrow.
“Let’s get on with it, then.” She rose from the couch and clutched her briefcase in front of her with both hands.
Mr. McCauley frowned, leaning back in his chair to look her in the eye. “Are you always this bossy?”
She swallowed a caustic reply. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCauley, but we are on a tight deadline. If there is anything I can do to convince your friend to arrive promptly, please let me know.”
“How much were you gonna pay?”
She suddenly realized they hadn’t discussed a fee. “How much do you require?”
“We’ll talk about me later, but why don’t you pay my friend five hundred to stay here and watch my spread? That’ll cover about two days of his time.”
From knowing Prince Alexi—who had the uncommon ability to compute pounds to yen to euros—for so many years, she’d learned to compute foreign currency. Five hundred dollars seemed fairly reasonable. About ten dollars an hour American, if one counted the entire day and night. “Very well. I’ll have a check prepared for him.”
“Now, Lady Wendy, I’m not sure the bank in Ranger Springs will let him cash a check from Europe.”
Gwendolyn felt her body go rigid. “I assure you—”
“Now, don’t get all bent out of shape. This is a small town. Hell, a lot of people won’t take a check from Oklahoma, much less Belegovia. Why don’t you run into town and see if you can get some cash? I’ll get dressed, pack a bag and be ready to go when you get back.”
“This is absurd! A check from the royal treasury of Belegovia is absolutely valid!”
Hank McCauley shook his head, making a lock of unruly hair fall into his hooded eyes. “No cash, no deal.”
Gwendolyn swallowed another reply and turned on her heel. “Very well, then, Mr. McCauley. Your friend will have his cash. I’ll be back shortly. Kindly be ready to leave when I return.”
“You’ve got it, Lady Wendy.”
She heard the recliner squeak as he rose, but his bare feet made no sound on the floor. She couldn’t keep herself from looking back to see where he was located.
He was right behind her. She turned and clutched her briefcase high against her chest, drawing in a deep breath, inhaling his clean fragrance and spicy cologne. Why didn’t the man at least don a shirt? He was absolutely improper.
Absolutely intoxicating, she had to admit as her head swam.
“You might want to stop by the Kash ’n’ Karry on your way back from the bank. I’ll need a couple of six packs of Dr. Pepper—the real kind, not that diet stuff—while we’re working on this prince thing.”
“Dr. Pepper.” She was relieved her voice still worked. “Anything else?”
