Linda Goodnight - Prince Incognito

As soon as the thought came, Carly thrust it out. She was onto something here. Getting distracted could get a P.I. killed. Well, maybe not here and now but somewhere. Besides, Luc had avoided revealing the name of his country. Why did it matter if she knew where he lived?

“Near Switzerland,” he finally said and then, smooth as French silk pie, he glanced toward the food table and changed the subject. “Would you care for some of Carson’s birthday cake?”

Yes, she’d have some cake, but she wanted some more answers, too. She jumped up from the table. To her everlasting dismay, one hand struck her half-empty tea glass. As if in slow motion, the glass tumbled forward and clattered onto the checkered cloth.

Carly squeezed her eyes shut. When she dared peek, sticky tea splattered the front of Luc’s handsome shirt.

With a groan of dismay Carly grabbed her napkin and rushed to repair the damage. Now she’d done it. Luc would leave to change his clothes and never want to see her again.

Luc Gardner was secretive about his home, leery of the press and smelled deliciously rich. To a good detective those added up to one thing: he had to be somebody. And Carly, who desperately needed to prove she could investigate anybody, anywhere, and come up with something, needed to find out who.

Investigating him would keep her busy during this odious exile, and if Luc turned out to be nobody, no harm done. But if she was really, really lucky, Luc Gardner just might be the answer to her prayers.

If her clumsiness didn’t kill him first.

Regardless of one’s location, sunrise was a shockingly vulgar time of day.

These were Carly’s first thoughts as she crawled from beneath her star-of-Bethlehem quilt and stumbled across the polished oak floors into the bathroom. What had possessed her to agree to a trail ride at sunrise?

She’d forgotten to ask when breakfast was served and she’d bet a mocha Frappuccino there wasn’t a Star-bucks within a hundred miles.

In the city, where there was nothing but concrete and cars, morning arrived with the sounds of horns honking, sirens screaming and trucks roaring past. Good sounds. Normal stuff.

But out here in the Oklahoma outback, some love-struck bird had chosen her windowsill to belt out his twittering happiness. And above the air-conditioning she heard cows mooing. Any minute she expected a rooster to cut loose.

Might as well get used to it. Exile could last a long time.

She showered and dressed, hoping her Payless hiking boots would do for horseback riding. Not that she knew much about that dubious activity, but she was game. Sort of.

She tossed her camera over one shoulder and started out the door. Sunrise was a sight she didn’t plan to see too often. Might as well get some shots.

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