Mitch stopped in the middle of the room and spun on his heel to face her. ‘‘Let’s get a couple of things straight. First, call me Mitch. I’ll call you Alex, even if it’s gonna give your security people a seizure.’’
‘‘Rowan’s more of a silent suffering kind of individual.’’
Mitch’s stern expression relaxed a little. He had warm brown eyes, she thought. And a very nice mouth—well shaped and firm looking, without being hard. She’d never really taken the time to notice a man’s mouth before. How strange that she should do so now.
‘‘Second,’’ Mitch went on, ‘‘try to avoid using really big words. It’s not that I don’t have a college degree, but folks around here prefer life simple and their friends straightforward. You’re a little fancy for the ranch, so you’re going to have a work at fitting in.’’
Alex didn’t know how to respond to that. ‘‘I’ll do my best,’’ she managed.
‘‘That’s all anyone can ask.’’
He led the way through the living room and down a long hallway. ‘‘The house has five bedrooms. I’m going to give you the two at the back of the house because they have the most privacy. There’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom between them. This was always sort of the guest suite, so it should suit your needs.’’
She had a brief impression of open doors and large bedrooms, then Mitch came to a stop at the end of the hallway. He moved aside to let her enter first.
Alex stepped into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed and a long triple dresser. To the left, a big bay window let in light and had a window seat. The quilt and matching rugs looked handmade and very old. She walked to the bed and touched the pale-pink-and-green quilted squares. The tiny stitches told their own story and she wondered about the women who had spent hours making this gift of the heart.
‘‘It’s lovely,’’ she said, meaning both the room and the handmade spread.
‘‘It’s no palace, but it’s clean and quiet. That armoire has a television in it. We have a satellite dish so you can keep up with what’s going on back home.’’
Alex checked out the walk-in closet. Her clothes would fit nicely. ‘‘I won’t have any trouble with that. I’ll be sent daily bulletins. Some things will come by fax or e-mail, but the sensitive documents will be hand delivered by a messenger.’’
‘‘What’s so important that it can’t wait until you get home?’’
She looked at him and smiled. ‘‘I’m not just a princess. I have official state duties that continue to be my responsibility even when I’m out of the country.’’
She crossed to the door leading to the bathroom and stared at the vanity and double sink. Another door led to the toilet and tub. Beyond that was a matching vanity and the study beyond. ‘‘So that’s what you meant when you said ‘Jack-and-Jill’ bathroom. I’d never heard the expression before.’’ Mitch had followed her on her inspection tour. She gave a light laugh. ‘‘I was half expecting something labeled His and Hers.’’
‘‘No. Families do this when they have a bunch of kids. It makes it easier for them to share a bathroom without arguing over who’s spending too much time at the mirror.’’
‘‘I see.’’ Although she couldn’t. Alex didn’t think she’d ever shared a bathroom with anyone.
The sister bedroom to hers had been converted into a study complete with a desk across from a sofa and chair. The matching bay window faced a fenced paddock that held three mares. Alex crossed the room to gaze at them.
The animals grazed in the peaceful afternoon. She felt a flicker of envy. What would it be like to live a life like this one? ‘‘It’s so quiet here,’’ she said. ‘‘When I left Aspen, there were security people everywhere. My sisters were arguing over who got what bedroom, and the cook was complaining because the proper supplies had yet to be delivered. To make it all the more interesting, half the town had already figured out we were in residence, so there was a constant stream of cars driving by the front gates. It’s just a matter of time until the press starts camping out.’’
‘‘If your sisters are as pretty as you, then I can sure understand why. Any of you married?’’
It was the second time he’d complimented her. Over the years she’d been told many positive things about her appearance. Some had been outrageous flattery, and some she’d believed. Even so, no practiced collection of words had made her feel as flustered as this man’s casual comments.
‘‘Um, no. We’re all still single. I’m the oldest.’’ She smiled. ‘‘I’ve had several rock stars propose, but I’ve managed to steer clear of any romantic engagements.’’
He leaned against the door frame, and it seemed as if he held up the wall instead of the other way around. ‘‘I can’t imagine living like that,’’ he said. ‘‘I promise no press or rock stars out here. The most excitement will be when Betty, my housekeeper, finds out you’re really a princess. She has a thing for royalty. She follows the British royal family and that one in Monaco.’’
His gaze drifted over her body again. As he looked at her, she had the oddest sensation of heat and pressure, almost as if he was really touching her skin. How ridiculous, she told herself. It must be jet lag.
‘‘She’s going to want to fatten you up,’’ he said.
It took her a minute to figure out who the ‘‘she’’ was. ‘‘Your housekeeper?’’
‘‘Yeah. Betty’s not one for skinny women.’’
She wanted to ask about his preference, but didn’t have the courage. Besides, something wonderfully alive and hot flickered in his eyes. Something that made her mouth go dry and her legs tingle.
Their conversation was far too personal to be appropriate, she thought, trying to distract herself. Yet if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she didn’t want to change the subject. Nor did she want to complain about the way Mitch was looking at her. Because very few men bothered to see her as a woman instead of a princess. Alex would have bet her favorite pair of diamond earrings that at that moment he’d completely forgotten she was anything close to royalty.
She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘‘You have a very lovely home, Mitch, and I’m honored to stay here. Thank you.’’
‘‘Your watchdog hasn’t cleared me yet.’’
‘‘Is there any doubt?’’
He sighed. ‘‘Not a one. And I’m a dozen kinds of crazy for letting you move in, princess.’’
‘‘Will it be so awful?’’
His gaze settled on her face. She found herself studying his mouth and wishing it weren’t quite so intriguing.
‘‘Awful?’’ he asked. ‘‘No. It’s going to be worse.’’
* * *
At exactly seven that evening, as it did every Sunday night, the phone rang. Mitch picked it up on the first ring. ‘‘Hi, Mom, hi, Dad,’’ he said into the receiver.
‘‘Mitch!’’
His parents greeted him as they always did, their familiar voices bright with pleasure.
‘‘How are things up there?’’ Mitch asked as he leaned back in his favorite chair and closed his eyes.
He could picture his parents in their quarters in their bed-and-breakfast in the San Juan Islands in Washington state. They’d retired there about five years before with the intent of buying a small house and finally taking things easy. After six months they’d both been going crazy with boredom. As his mother