When she pulled back, her smile faded. Her arms slipped away from around his neck and he allowed his hands to slide down her arms until they were both standing in the truck stop, breathless and confused. Her light brown brows drew closer together over a cute little nose sprinkled with freckles.
“You’re not Hank.”
“No, I’m not.”
She tilted her head. “But you look just like him.” She stared, leaning forward to examine him as though he were an interesting new species of insect. “You don’t have the little scar above your lip.”
“No, I don’t.” He folded his arms across his chest, expecting some accusation or scorn. “I didn’t mean to deceive you. You took me by surprise.”
“Are you British?”
“I was born and raised there, but I live in Belegovia now.”
“Belegovia. Where have I heard that name?”
“Perhaps on the news?” he offered.
Comprehension dawned swift and sure. “You’re the prince.” She grinned and shook her head. “You don’t look very much like the grainy photo I saw in the newspaper this morning.” She placed a uniform down on a stool—she’d obviously just changed clothes also—and reached for a section of the paper resting beside the cash register. It was crumpled from many people sharing the newsprint. “See. You look a lot more…stern in the paper.”
“Thank you, I suppose,” he replied, more and more fascinated by this young woman who seemed completely unimpressed by his position. He was about to ask for an introduction when Lady Gwendolyn Reed walked up, frowning. She’d probably witnessed the whole incident from her position by the double glass doors. Gwendolyn didn’t miss much.
“No, I mean you look better,” the petite blonde continued, sparing a quick look at Gwendolyn. “Like Hank McCauley. He used to be my boyfriend…well, for a little while. Not that we were ever serious. We’re just friends now. I thought maybe he’d come to visit me here at the truck stop.”
“And bring you a present,” Alexi finished.
The cute blonde grinned. “I like surprises.”
Alexi felt his answering smile all the way down his body. “So do I.” Especially when they come in such attractive packages, he thought.
“Your Highness, we really should be leaving,” Gwendolyn said. She looked businesslike and slightly severe in her purplish woolen suit, black pumps and combination purse and briefcase. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple clip. She appeared the exact opposite of the slightly disheveled truck stop waitress whose blond hair curled in an attractive style around her head.
“I’d introduce you,” he said to his public-relations director, “but I have yet to learn the name of our new friend.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The young woman in question tossed the paper back onto the counter and thrust out her hand. “Kerry Lynn Jacks, from Ranger Springs.”
Alexi turned it over so he held her fingers and kissed the back of her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Kerry Lynn Jacks. I am Prince Alexi Ladislas of Belegovia. May I present Lady Gwendolyn Reed, the formidable woman who is urging me ever closer to San Antonio and another round of boring public appearances?”
Kerry laughed. “Sounds like a difficult job.”
“You have no idea,” Gwendolyn said, her nostrils flaring as her eyebrows rose. Don’t give me any trouble, she seemed to be saying. Please, just get back in the Land Rover and we’ll forget all about this little encounter.
Fat chance, he’d learned to say when he’d lived in the States several years ago. Sometimes he simply couldn’t resist tweaking Gwendolyn’s nose—figuratively, of course, as he’d done when they were much younger. She preferred a much more restrictive view of his public life than he favored. He enjoyed much of the baby-kissing and hand-shaking, but Gwendolyn scheduled a plethora of those appearances. He would rather focus on promoting tourism and stimulating economic development in his country, which he’d just done in Dallas. As far as he was concerned, he’d accomplished his mission to Texas. Gwendolyn, on the other hand, still believed he had several days of public appearances to endure before finding out if he’d be meeting the president on his Texas ranch late Saturday.
“Well, I’d better let you go. I’m sorry about assaulting you. I’m sure that doesn’t happen often.” She frowned. “Not that women wouldn’t want to throw themselves at you. I just meant that I’m sure you’re not usually confused with someone else.”
Alexi smiled. “I can honestly say that has never happened before.” And he couldn’t have imagined a more pleasurable case of mistaken identity, either.
“Nice to meet you, Lady Gwendolyn,” Kerry replied with a smile. “I hope y’all have a nice time in Texas.”
She turned away with one more friendly smile over her shoulder. Alexi stood rooted to the spot, still tasting her lips and feeling her petite, curvy body pressed to his.
“We really should be going,” Gwendolyn reminded him. “Between the incident in the Land Rover and this distraction, we’re nearly an hour behind schedule.”
The “incident” involved a soft drink Alexi had purchased on their last stop. He loved American soft drinks. They tasted different in the States than in Europe. This particular bottle, however, had either been shaken on purpose or dropped by clumsy hands, because the minute he’d twisted open the lid, cold, sticky liquid had spewed from the bottle, soaking his shirt and the seat of the Land Rover, and saturated his hair and face.
He’d needed a change of clothing and the truck stop seemed a perfect place to wash his face, neck and hands. To his surprise, the large facility contained showers for both men and women, clothing, a variety of recordings and books, and every type of food imaginable. The combination showers and rest rooms separated the retail part of the truck stop from the restaurant, which occupied about one third of the building.
He’d chosen jeans, a Western-cut shirt in bright stripes and a tooled leather belt that he knew would remind him of Texas long after he returned to Belegovia. With his new wardrobe and impatient looks from Gwendolyn, he’d slipped into the men’s showers.
When he’d emerged clean and in his new clothes, Kerry Lynn Jacks had launched herself into his arms.
Alexi narrowed his eyes and watched her hug two waitresses and wipe a tear from her eye. “She’s certainly an interesting young woman.”
“One we don’t have time to linger over.”
“You are no fun,” he told Gwendolyn, who was single-minded in her duties. Mainly she scheduled, then escorted him from event to event, competently and without any surprises. And she never scheduled any temptations.
With one last look at Kerry, who had picked up a canvas tote bag and was waving goodbye to her friends, he turned away also. “Okay. Let’s get on the road.”
“You don’t need to sound so disappointed,” Gwendolyn chided. “This trip was your idea.”
“The meetings in Dallas were my idea. The photo ops were for you and my father.”
“Whatever.”
They emerged into the bright morning sunlight. The newly cleaned Land Rover with their Texas driver, Pete Boedecker, and Alexi’s man, Milos Anatole, stood ready at the door.
“We’re off to San Antonio, Mr. Boedecker,” Gwendolyn announced. She stood beside the vehicle door, waiting for Alexi to enter first, as was his right. He still had a hard time remembering to observe the formality when he was in the States. He’d lived in Boston for five years, never once failing to act courteously to women—most of whom knew him only as Alex.
Just when he was getting ready to enter