Victoria Chancellor - The Prince's Cowboy Double

“Why?” He snapped his fingers, getting her attention. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got that British problem I heard about. I’m sure sorry, Lady Wendy.”

“What British problem?” she asked, obviously irritated at his teasing.

“I’m sure sorry I didn’t notice it earlier,” he whispered, then paused dramatically. “Bad teeth.”

He heard her cry of indignation as he pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. “I most assuredly do not have bad teeth!”

“Really? Let me see.” He leaned toward her.

“Mr. McCauley! Please, I’m not one of your horses!”

“Come on, now, Lady Wendy. Just open up a little and let me see.”

“You are incorrigible.”

She sounded offended, but he detected a hint of amusement under her starchy facade. “I know I am. It’s part of my charm.”

She tried harder not to smile.

Hank grinned. “You know you want to show me your pearly whites.”

“I’ll have you know my mum and dad spent a fair amount on my teeth.”

“Yeah? Mine, too. I was always busting out a tooth or chipping one when I got thrown.”

“I’ve never had a chipped tooth.”

“Really? They can be pretty sexy.”

She sucked in a breath, her topaz eyes suddenly warm. As a matter of fact, the whole inside of the truck seemed to have warmed up considerably. “How?”

He leaned a bit closer. “’Cause you can run your tongue over that little ol’ chip.”

“Why would that be sexy?” she whispered.

“Maybe I wasn’t makin’ myself clear. I meant if you were kissing me, you could run your tongue over that chip. Of course, you’d have to search really long and hard, ’cause it’s been fixed for years.”

“I see,” she said, staring at his mouth.

He couldn’t stand it a moment longer. He stretched his arm across the space dividing them, held the back of her head in one hand and kissed her while her lips were parted in surprise. He didn’t intend to take advantage of her shock, but her mouth was as sweet as Texas in springtime, and her lips were as soft as blue-bonnet petals. His tongue touched hers, then retreated to trace the shape of her teeth—teeth he’d already noted were pearly white and straight as could be. When she moaned, he cupped her cheek with his other hand and deepened the kiss.

Behind them, a car horn honked. Shaking, she pulled away.

“I think you’re right,” he said, struggling to keep his voice light. “There doesn’t seem to be anything at all wrong with your mouth.” Or her almost innocent, tentative kiss.

“I’m certainly glad to hear that,” she said, her voice thin and shaky. “Perhaps we should just forget this ever happened, Mr. McCauley.”

“I think you should call me Hank,” he said as he pulled his hand—and her barrette—away from her hair. He used his fingers to pull the silky length over her shoulders. “There.”

“What are you doing?”

“Nobody in his right might would believe that Hank McCauley would check into a hotel with a woman who has her hair all scraped back like yours was. Now you look more…presentable.”

“There was nothing wrong with how I looked before!”

“Not for everyday stuff, but checking into a hotel with a man? Naw, you just didn’t look right for that.”

“Mr. McCauley, we are supposed to be at the service entrance so Prince Alexi can go immediately to his room via the back elevator.” Her voice rose and got a little bit higher with each word. She gazed outside, panic setting in at the crowded hotel entrance.

“But I’m Hank McCauley, rodeo star, not Prince Alexi, major pain in the—never mind. Point is, no one’s going to believe I’m the prince yet.” He put the truck into gear and edged toward valet parking. “Besides, how are we gonna explain my truck around back? Your driver probably has his hands full getting that valet guy settled inside.” He pulled out his wallet, spotting a five he could give as a tip. “I’m going to have these nice young men park the dually someplace where I can get to it.”

“Are you planning on going somewhere?” she asked, trying to finger-comb her hair.

He reached over and ruffled the glossy reddish-brown strands again. “After that kiss? I don’t think so,” he said, grinning at her flushed, confused expression.

He didn’t intend to kiss her again, but she didn’t know that. He kind of liked the idea that she was just as out of kilter as he was. He knew he was her means to an end, but that didn’t mean everything had to be all serious and secretive. After all, light, fun relationships with women were the only ones he’d allowed himself in six long years.

Lady Wendy didn’t need to know that either.

BEFORE GWENDOLYN COULD come up with any more coherent arguments for using the service entrance, Hank McCauley had placed a cowboy hat on his head, jumped down, grinned at the parking attendant and walked around the truck toward her. Good heavens! What was the man thinking? They couldn’t just march in the front door and—

“Get your pretty little self on down here, darlin’,” he ordered with a smile. As soon as she unfastened the seat belt, he grabbed her around the waist and swung her to the pavement. Before she got her balance, he’d retrieved his carryall and grasped her arm. “I just can’t wait to get checked in to our room.”

“Really!”

“Yeah, really,” he said with a wink, making the two closest luggage handlers grin widely.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. McCauley,” one of them called out.

“Good to be here, Ramon.”

She looked around, half expecting to see a dozen paparazzi ready to snap their photo. The headlines tomorrow would read “Prince Seduces PR Lady at San Antonio Hotel.” King Wilheim would have a coronary. But no one was there except bellhops and other people checking into or out of the hotel. As a matter of fact, no one paid them much attention except the parking attendants.

“They know you at this hotel?” Gwendolyn whispered as they swooshed through the revolving door. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You didn’t ask,” the irritating man replied.

She wanted to stamp her foot, frown and fume, but they were traveling through a spacious lobby toward the check-in desk. “How am I going to explain your presence here?” she asked, hoping the multitude of large plants and columns hid their arrival from most of the people inside the hotel.

“Just go on and check in. I’m going to make a little detour to the gift shop,” he said, nodding toward the glassed-in store just off the lobby. “Come get me when you’re finished, darlin’,” he said before sauntering off in that rolling gait, his hips and long legs moving easily beneath the worn denim.

“Can I help you?” someone on the other side of the desk asked. Gwendolyn blushed, ashamed she’d been caught staring at that exasperating cowboy’s…departure.

“Yes,” she said crisply, pushing her hair behind her ears and squaring her shoulders. “I’m Lady Gwendolyn Reed, checking in Prince Alexi’s party.”

A few minutes later, she found Hank McCauley paying for a large bag of merchandise at the gift shop register. She wondered if he’d charged it to the room or paid cash or used his own personal credit card. Apparently he wasn’t as broke as she’d assumed earlier if he could afford to stay at this hotel on a regular basis.

She waited for him beside the door, unwilling to endure more “darlin”’ taunts. As if someone would really believe they were a couple!

He gave her a heart-stopping grin. “Ready to go upstairs?”

“Ready to get started with your training?”

He chuckled. “You’re tough, you know that?”

“One of us has to be focused on our goal, and since that is my job, I’m the one who must insist on staying with our plan.” And staying away from any heart-stopping kisses, pats on her “cute little butt,” or any further manhandling by this blatantly sexist cowboy.