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“Okay, she’s goin’ to college at my alma mater, Harvard.”
“Pretty classy,” Kerry said with a grin. “You’re getting better, by the way. Just relax. Go ahead.”
“Let’s see…Oh, yes. My mother lives in England.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
“No, but they haven’t lived together since shortly after our country became a separate entity after liberation from the Soviet Union.”
“Okay, tell that to me again in Texas-style English.”
Alexi laughed. “Sorry. Belegovia is an old monarchy that was swallowed up by the Soviet Union after World War II. My grandfather fled the country with his family and sought asylum in England.”
“So the queen took you in.”
“Actually, I—”
“No ‘actually,’ either. Just go ahead and tell me.”
“Very…er, sorry,” he responded with a grin. “My father was a very young man when they settled in England. I wasn’t born yet.”
“Oh, so that’s why your mother is from England.”
“Right. And she prefers to live there. You see, she never expected my father to become king. After all, he didn’t have a country when they married, and there wasn’t any clue that we’d ever get it back.”
“So she didn’t want to be a queen.”
“She didn’t want to give up her life, her home, her friends,” Alexi said, his expression showing he’d resigned himself to his parents’ situation long ago. “My father taught history. She was much happier being married to a professor than a king.”
“I suppose I can understand her point. I mean, there’s got to be a lot of hassles when you’re a monarch. Lack of privacy, lots of expectations.”
“And don’t forget all those public appearances,” he said with a grin.
Kerry gave him what she hoped was a chastising frown.
“To give her credit, she tried to fit in for a short while, but the country was still chaotic when we returned to Belegovia. The parliament and some of the courts were in operation, but the palace had yet to be restored and the role of the king was still tenuous.”
“Texas talk, remember?” she prodded.
“Oh, of course.” He frowned for a moment, then brightened. “The place was a damned mess,” he finally said with a grin and a drawl.
Kerry laughed. “By George, I think he’s got it,” she said in her best Henry Higgins imitation.
She sipped her soft drink as they drew closer to Houston. She hoped they missed most of the rush hour traffic, which could be brutal, from what she’d heard from her aunt and uncle. They avoided “the city,” which meant anywhere in or near Houston, whenever possible, preferring the slower pace of life on the island.
“Tell me about yourself, Kerry Lynn Jacks,” Alexi said, breaking into her thoughts as she passed a semi.
“I have a mother and two sisters. No father, at least not for years. He left when I was thirteen.”
“That must have been difficult for your mother.”
“Yes, it was. She’s a waitress at the Four Square Cafе in Ranger Springs, which doesn’t pay really great. I’ve been helping out as much as I could, mainly because tips at the truck stop are a lot better than at the local diner.”
“I see. What about your sisters? How old are they?”
“Carole is just a year and a half younger than me—nearly twenty-seven. Cheryl is twenty-six. Both of them live in Ranger Springs.”
“Do they resemble you?”
“Your Texas accent is slipping,” she said, mostly to collect her thoughts. “And yes, sort of.”
“Then they must be very beautiful.”
“Oh, puleeze,” she said, already feeling her cheeks heating. “You don’t have to say things like that just because I’m giving you a ride across the state.”
“That’s not why I said it.”
“Look, I’m slightly cute, okay? But beautiful people are tall and thin and dress in incredibly fantastic clothes. They live in New York and California and exotic places, not Ranger Springs, Texas.”
“You’ve been reading too many fashion and celebrity magazines.”
“No, I’ve just learned to be a realist. I’m not unhappy with who I am. I’m content to be short and cute.” She took a big breath, then smiled at him. “Besides, I’m also smart and stubborn. That makes up for a lot of slinky clothes and exotic locales.”
“So what is a smart, cute woman like yourself doing after graduation on Saturday?”
She brightened at his question. “I have a great job at Grayson Industries as a financial analyst. Gray Phillips moved his company to town two years ago and married our doctor, Amy Wheatley. Business is booming, so he’s expanding his financial staff. I’ll be looking at things like cash flow, financing and inventory management.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“Are you just saying that?”
“No. Why do you think I went to Harvard? They don’t offer degrees in ‘princely deportment,”’ he teased. “I got my MBA to help manage my own investments and help my father. Besides, there was a good chance I’d need to get a job, since the title ‘prince’ doesn’t translate into a living in the real world. There was no guarantee that Belegovia could successfully return to a parliamentary-style government with a titular monarchy.”
“Really? I guess I hadn’t thought about it.” She’d assumed that he’d always been assured of his position in the world. But now that she knew more of his background, she understood that being a prince wasn’t something he’d grown up with, not like the British royal family. From the day they were born, they knew what their role was going to be. Alexi had grown up as the son of a history professor who happened to have royal blood.
And now that he’d turned thirty, his father demanded he get married. A princess bride. If she’d read about it in one of her mother’s royalty magazines, Kerry knew she’d think the situation romantic. After all, hadn’t she watched the last big royal wedding with tears in her eyes over the fairy-tale quality—the ivory satin gown with the long, long train, the tiara, the beautiful flowers?
Now that she knew the situation from Alexi’s point of view, she understood the pressure he felt. This trip was obviously a rebellion against his father’s mandate. She’d taken only one course in psychology, but she understood such motivation.
“If you get tired of driving, please let me know. I’ll be glad to take over,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.
“We’re almost to Houston. The traffic is pretty bad and it’s almost rush hour. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
“Actually…sorry.” He slipped into his version of a Texas accent. “I meant, I was a darned good driver when I lived in Boston.”
“Do you even have a driver’s license?”
“Of course,” he said with mock indignation. “Duly issued by the Belegovian Department of Transportation. I even took the written test. And I drove a Formula One racer in a charity event in Monte Carlo last year.”
Kerry laughed as she shook her head. “Just hang on, Mario Andretti. I’m taking you into the final lap. We’ll be in Galveston in less than two hours.”
ALEXI ENJOYED viewing the sprawling metropolitan area of Houston. He could barely see the downtown area from the eastbound interstate highway, just south of Houston. Various groupings of high-rise buildings gave the impression of several different “downtown” districts as Kerry deftly dodged traffic.
She would have been a big hit in the charity race in Monaco, he thought with a smile. He could just see her layered blond hair peeking out from a helmet, her petite, curvy body encased in the one-piece, form-fitting, emblem-emblazoned driver’s suit.
His smile faded as his body responded to the image. Shifting in Delores’s fake-fur seat, he glanced at Kerry. She was absorbed in the heavy traffic, so he looked his fill. She was right; she was cute. Her skin was lightly freckled, her hair naturally streaked by the sun. But her animated features and endearingly honest personality made her beautiful in his eyes.
When he’d impulsively decided to accompany her on this trip, he’d wanted to explore the instant attraction he’d felt for this Texas sprite. Now that he knew more about her, he liked her even more. He wasn’t sure how many days he could spend with her—surely they’d return for her graduation on Saturday—but he would savor each moment.
He really hoped the president was too busy to go to his ranch this weekend. After all, they had nothing of substance to discuss; Belegovia’s contract with the United States for the removal of old Soviet Union missile silos was secure. The U.S. had granted much-needed foreign aid for Belegovia’s cooperation in making sure the region was safe from nuclear accidents.
Besides, Alexi knew he’d much rather spend time with Kerry than the leader of the free world.
They exited the loop and headed south for Galveston, passing one of Houston’s airports, Kerry informed him. Soon the buildings and the traffic cleared. The flat plains of south Texas met the water in marshes on either side of the highway.
“How much farther?” he finally asked.
Kerry smiled at him. “You sound like a little boy.”
“Those are fightin’ words,” he said, mocking a Texas accent.
Kerry laughed. “Actually, you sounded a lot like Hank then. Keep it up and Aunt Marcy and Uncle Bob will never know you have blue blood in your veins.”
“So my goal is to be a little over the top?”
“That’s Hank. And to answer your original question, about half an hour.”
Alexi settled back in the seat and watched the salt marshes whiz by. Hank. He kept coming up in conversation. Had Kerry been in love with the cowboy? Was she over their romance? The questions bothered him more than he wanted to admit. But that was probably because he was so curious about all aspects of Kerry Lynn Jacks. Wondering about her previous relationships was normal…right?
So what if he couldn’t recall ever thinking about the previous lovers of any of the women he’d dated. Kerry was different in so many ways, but they both knew their time together was limited. Perhaps that made the experience so much more intense. They had a lot to learn in three short days.
He’d love to learn how she would look, flushed with desire, her blue-gray eyes smoky and mysterious. She was so expressive, so spontaneous. Kerry would be a wonderful lover, he was certain. But she was also a delightful person, and until they arrived at their destination and he knew what sleeping arrangements were offered, he was content to watch her drive and listen to her speak of her friends, family and home state.
“I should warn you that Aunt Marcy is in a wheelchair. She gets around so well that sometimes I forget, but I didn’t want you to be too surprised when we get to their house.”
“That’s fine. Was she in an accident?”
“No, she was one of the last cases of polio before the vaccine was developed in the 1950s.”
“Bloody horrible disease,” he muttered, then held up his hand. “And no comments about saying it in Texas English.”
“I wasn’t going to,” she said softly. She drove for a few more minutes, then gestured to the left. “I know you went off without much from your luggage. If you need to get anything, there’s a mall up there. Galveston clothing shopping is pretty limited unless you want souvenir T-shirts and tropical shorts.”
“That’s very thoughtful. I should pick up a few things. If you wouldn’t mind…”
“Not at all.”
They shopped at several stores for khaki slacks, another pair of jeans and a package of underwear. He let Kerry pick out several shirts since he wasn’t sure what Hank would wear. They both laughed over the wide variety of swim trunks, which he’d need for the beach. She playfully suggested bright green baggy tropicals with huge pink and purple flowers. He preferred solid blue with a discreet red stripe up the side. They compromised on a moderate red and white pattern.
At the cosmetics counter, he picked up a bottle of his usual cologne, some lotion and sunscreen, since they were going to the beach. Kerry appeared a bit surprised, but he couldn’t see ignoring personal grooming just because he was on a road trip.
Within an hour they were back on the road, his new duffel bag stowed in the back seat. He looked forward to meeting Kerry’s aunt and uncle and spending time in a typical American family home. He hoped his presence didn’t disrupt their sleeping arrangements. If so he could always get a hotel room, which he assumed were plentiful in this island city.
Or he could offer to bunk with Kerry, he thought with a grin. He’d be willing to sacrifice sleep for the opportunity to hold her in his arms and get to know her much, much better.
Just then they approached a high bridge.
“This is the only bridge on and off the island,” she explained. “When a hurricane warning is issued, Aunt Mary and Uncle Bob told me traffic is a nightmare.”
They passed over a bay with boat docks lining the shores. A little farther ahead, he saw waterside homes to the right, and a strange pyramid structure. “What’s that?”
“Moody Gardens. The Moodys are a wealthy Texas family who give a lot to different charities and universities. I’ve never been to Moody Gardens, but Aunt Marcy loves to go. They have a tropical habitat with butterflies.”
Soon the highway turned into a city street with a wide, tree-lined median as they went past small businesses and modest, sometimes shabby houses. So far, except for the scruffy palm trees and blooming shrubs, the city didn’t look like a semitropical island, but he hadn’t seen the beach yet.
“The old part of Galveston is up ahead,” Kerry said, pointing to the left. “Tomorrow we can tour some of the homes if you’d like. Or we can go to the Strand, this Victorian section near the pier, with shops and restaurants.”
“Anything is fine with me. Whatever you’d like to do, I know I’ll enjoy it.” He was especially looking forward to seeing Kerry in her swimsuit. He didn’t suppose he’d be lucky enough to discover she wore a bikini. “When will we go to the beach?”
“Almost anytime. As a matter of fact, we can take a walk along there tonight. My aunt and uncle live only two blocks off the seawall.”
“Fabulous,” he said with a grin when Kerry turned off the main thoroughfare onto a numbered side street. He couldn’t wait for a romantic moonlit walk along the beach with his Texas tour guide.
KERRY PULLED DELORES to a stop in the driveway behind her aunt and uncle’s van. She had to stop herself from running for the door and giving them both a big hug. She hadn’t seen Aunt Marcy and Uncle Bob for almost a year. She’d taken more class hours this last year, but continued to work a full shift at the truck stop. Between family, school and work, she hadn’t taken a vacation. And her aunt and uncle didn’t enjoy traveling much. Most houses didn’t accommodate Aunt Marcy’s wheelchair, so visiting was difficult.
Uncle Bob opened the door, grinning as he spread his arms wide. Kerry smiled and ran up the ramp to the front porch.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said against his pipe-tobacco-scented shirt.
“We’re so proud of you, Kerry girl,” he murmured as he gave her a bear hug. “It’s good to see you, too.”
She looked back at the car. Alexi was standing by Delores’s bumper holding his duffel and her suitcase. She gestured him forward.
“Uncle Bob, I want you to meet my friend, Mack.”
“Mack? Why, isn’t that Hank McCauley? Your mother sent us a picture of the two of you at a rodeo a couple of years ago. I thought you called him Hank.”
“Oh,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “Mack is my special nickname for him.
“Mack, this is my uncle, Robert Jacks, but you can call him Bob.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Alexi said, holding out his hand and grinning. He sounded enough like Hank to fool someone who had never actually met the cowboy.
As the men shook hands, Kerry slipped behind them to find Aunt Marcy, just inside the living room. She leaned down and gave her aunt a big hug.
“I’m so glad to see you.”
“I’m so glad you brought a friend with you. I was worried about you driving across the state all by yourself in that old car.”
