The Prince's Cowboy Double. Victoria Chancellor
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two of them, working until the wee hours, alone in a suite. Maybe not alone, if she could keep Milos with them all night. “Whatever you wish, Mr. McCauley.”
He stepped even closer, so close she had to look up into his blue eyes and heart-stopping grin. Too dangerous. She dropped her gaze. She could see the sprinkling of hair on his fingers as he gripped the towel around his neck. His chest appeared warm, broad and firm underneath those fisted hands. She had the irrational and totally inappropriate urge to taste his skin.
Good heavens! What was wrong with her?
“Now, Lady Wendy, what did I tell you about not leavin’ an offer like that on the table?”
“What?”
He grinned. “Never mind. You run off to the bank, now, and don’t forget those Dr. Peppers.”
TRAVIS AUSTIN WHITTAKER had just paid for a pound of ten-penny nails, a box of staples and two rolls of chicken wire when his cell phone rang. Getting his change from Jimmy Mack Branson at the hardware store, he unclipped the phone from his belt.
“Hello.”
“Travis, I need a favor.”
“What’s up, Hank?”
“I need to go out of town for a couple of days, real unexpected. Can you come over and help Juan? He needs to be home with his family at night. Also, I’ve got a new horse coming in on Friday and I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”
“Sure, I’ll be glad to.” He paused as he held the door open for two ladies. “Got a hot prospect on a new horse?”
Hank chuckled. “Kind of a hot prospect, you might say, but not the four-legged variety.”
“Whoa. That’s news.”
“Well, not exactly. I need to keep this real quiet, Travis. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, buddy. No problem. Will you have your phone with you?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’ll call if anything comes up I can’t handle.”
“Thanks. I’m paying you for this.”
“No way.”
Hank laughed. “Yeah, I’ve gotten you a great deal. I’ll fill in the details later.”
“Whatever.” Hank knew that Travis didn’t need the money. Besides, he wouldn’t take payment from a friend and neighbor. “I’ll come by late this afternoon if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Juan leaves around five o’clock usually.”
“See you when you get back.”
Travis hung up the phone and shook his head. So Hank was finally seeking out some female companionship. Good for him. As far as Travis knew, Hank hadn’t been in a serious relationship for months. He’d sworn off women after he quit the circuit because the gossips of Ranger Springs could sure do a number on a man’s reputation if he wasn’t careful. Just look at what had happened to Grayson Phillips—they’d hounded the poor man into matrimony last year, not that Gray seemed to mind being married to Dr. Amy Wheatley, Travis recalled with a chuckle.
So Hank was going off with a woman for two days. Well, Travis sure hoped he had a real good, relaxing time. Nothing like a little R and R to put a smile on a man’s face.
Chapter Two
He might be a rogue and a scoundrel, but he was a man of his word. He was ready to go when she returned from the bank. A well-worn carryall sat next to his chair on the porch while a large, fat yellow tabby cat wove its way through his legs.
Presumably the “best mouser in the state of Texas.”
Gwendolyn stepped down from the Land Rover, motioning Prince Alexi’s valet to follow her. She’d prefer to make the introductions before they all climbed back into the vehicle for the short trip to San Antonio.
“Would you care to join us, Mr. Boedecker?” she asked the driver.
“You go right ahead, Lady Gwendolyn. I’ll get to know Mr. McCauley later.”
Yes, at least the two men would have something in common. Same state, same economy of language. They no doubt enjoyed activities like drinking beer and flirting with women.
Well, she thought, pulling her jacket straight and marching toward the porch, Mr. McCauley would not be flirting with women for the next few days. Not as Prince Alexi. She didn’t want any rumors to get back to King Wilheim, who was intent on his eldest son marrying a suitable woman from European nobility as quickly as possible. Gwendolyn prayed that no word of Alexi’s impulsive little trip with the truck-stop waitress reached the king’s ear.
Hank McCauley rose from the wooden chair, stretching until she was certain the pearl snaps on his shirt were going to pop open. Ridiculous idea. Why in the world did these cowboy types prefer shirts without proper buttons?
“Mr. McCauley, I’d like to present His Royal Highness Prince Alexi’s personal valet, Milos Anatole, who will be assisting you with clothing and personal grooming.” She gave a slight nod, and Milos, who was very proud of his position as attendant to the future king of Belegovia, stepped forward and bowed.
“No offense, Mr. Anatole, but I’d just as soon get dressed on my own.”
“Milos will be indispensable to you in making the correct wardrobe choice,” Gwendolyn pointed out.
“He can pick ’em,” McCauley drawled, “but I’m doin’ up my own buttons and zippers.”
She suppressed a smile, noticing that Mr. McCauley’s drawl became much more pronounced when he stressed his Texas roots and independent ideas. “I’m sure we all understand your need for privacy.”
He frowned at her, but she plunged ahead before he could make any further remarks. “Milos will also assist with your instruction and other details such as protocol and menu.”
“You just tell me where to go, when to be there and what to wear, you hear?”
Good heavens, but Hank McCauley was laying it on thick today! Perhaps he was trying to convince them all that he was as opposite to Prince Alexi as night and day. Well, she’d just see about that! When she was finished with him, he’d be able to stand next to the prince and confuse even close acquaintances.
She only hoped she could fool the paparazzi and the king.
“Well, let’s be off then,” she said cheerfully. “Mr. McCauley, I’d suggest you sit in the back where the windows are tinted darker until we work more on your princely bearing.”
“Whoa again, Lady Wendy. I’m perfectly willing to go with you and help out with this impersonation, but I’m not squeezing myself into the back seat of that vehicle and taking off for San Antonio. No self-respecting cowboy would get himself stranded in town with no way back home.”
“We will, of course, provide transportation when Prince Alexi returns.”
“Nope. I need my own truck.”
Gwendolyn resisted the urge to place her hands on her hips and stamp her foot like an irate fishwife. “Mr. McCauley, we need to start work immediately on the history of Belegovia, the itinerary and all the details that you will need to know as Prince Alexi.” And she sincerely doubted she could get any work done in a rattletrap truck strewn with paper rubbish and beer cans. Not that she’d actually seen any of that debris around Mr. McCauley yet…
“Then you come with me and start working. I’m driving my own truck to San Antonio or I’m staying right here.”
Stubborn man! She would have gladly strangled him if she didn’t need his neck to be free of bruises for the next few days. “Very well,” she said as civilly as possible under the circumstances. “Let