to spend the weekend with the president.”
“No, you’re driving to Galveston with your good friend Mack.”
“Hey, I’m the one having the fantasy, okay?”
“Are you so sure?” he asked. Kerry might not look like the models and aspiring actresses who attended the events he usually frequented. She was cute rather than beautiful, petite rather than statuesque and honest rather than calculating. He found her honesty and natural charm extremely desirable. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather spend time with, and that includes your current leader.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came forth. For once, he’d managed to silence her somewhat saucy remarks.
Closing his eyes, he settled back against the seat once more. The sound of the tires rolling down the highway lulled him into sleep, and he dozed, a vision of Kerry’s amazed expression bringing a smile to his lips.
“WHERE ARE WE?” Alexi—or Mack—slowly opened his eyes. Lord, he looked good when he woke up. Really, really sexy. How was she going to keep her hands off him for three days?
“We’re in Sealy, about an hour outside of Houston.” She drove past the Wal-Mart and several fast-food places until she spotted a service station with a food mart. “Are you hungry? We can get a snack, although I’d like to wait to eat supper with my aunt and uncle tonight, if possible.”
She pulled off the interstate onto the service road.
“Very good. I could use a cold drink.” He raised his lean, muscular torso off Delores’s seat and stretched, as much as possible, inside the tight confines of the car. “I hadn’t realized I was so sleepy,” he said as she pulled to a stop at the gas pumps.
Kerry tore her eyes away from his tempting body and reached for the door handle. “You can get a soft drink or some water if you’d like. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll help you,” he said, opening his own door.
“No, that’s okay.” She needed a few minutes apart from him. For the past several hours, she’d had time to think about this trip. About him. About what she was doing driving a real, live prince around Texas.
Maybe this adventure was a big mistake.
“It’s been several years, but I think I can remember how to fuel up your vehicle.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Kerry, if I truly were Hank, wouldn’t you let me help?”
“Well…”
Right there beside the gas pumps, Delores’s poor old engine popping and wheezing beside them, he used one finger to tip up her chin. “I’m Mack, your friend, remember? Treat me just like you would Hank.”
“I’m having a hard time with that,” she whispered.
“Kerry Lynn Jacks, you are thinking too much,” he answered with a smile.
His smile slowly faded. Her lips slowly parted. He leaned closer, closer…Just when she thought he might kiss her, her car let out a particularly loud ping. Blinking, Kerry stepped back.
“Seriously,” she said. “I’ll pump the gas. If you’d like to do something nice, you can buy me a soft drink. Anything cold with caffeine.”
“Very well,” he said with a sigh.
“Oh, and Mack,” she said, emphasizing the nickname, “whatever you do, don’t use the word schedule.” His pronunciation of “shed-yule” would give him away immediately.
He chuckled, waving off her concern, and she went back to filling up Delores’s tank, probably for the last time.
After they’d both used the facilities, they piled back into the car. In the few minutes they’d been apart, Kerry had gotten herself under control again. Okay, so she was chauffeuring a prince around Texas. And pretending he was someone else. She could do this.
But he had to help.
“Look, if you’re going to be ‘Mack’ instead of Prince Alexi,” she said as she started Delores’s reluctant engine, “you need to talk like you’re from Texas instead of London.”
“We can work on that on the way to Galveston.”
“Okay. So tell me about your family—your real one, that is, not something you’d make up to fit your Texas persona—but use your best Texas accent.”
“Hmm, very well,” he began.
“Wait just a minute. Don’t say ‘very well.’ Texans just don’t talk that way. You can say ‘okay’ instead.”
“Okay,” he responded with a tight smile. “I’m the oldest son of King Wilheim of Belegovia. I have a brother who lives in our country and a sister who is attending university—”
“Nope, she’s ‘goin’ to college,”’ Kerry interrupted.
“Okay, she’s goin’ to college at my alma mater, Harvard.”
“Pretty classy,” Kerry said with a grin. “You’re getting better, by the way. Just relax. Go ahead.”
“Let’s see…Oh, yes. My mother lives in England.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
“No, but they haven’t lived together since shortly after our country became a separate entity after liberation from the Soviet Union.”
“Okay, tell that to me again in Texas-style English.”
Alexi laughed. “Sorry. Belegovia is an old monarchy that was swallowed up by the Soviet Union after World War II. My grandfather fled the country with his family and sought asylum in England.”
“So the queen took you in.”
“Actually, I—”
“No ‘actually,’ either. Just go ahead and tell me.”
“Very…er, sorry,” he responded with a grin. “My father was a very young man when they settled in England. I wasn’t born yet.”
“Oh, so that’s why your mother is from England.”
“Right. And she prefers to live there. You see, she never expected my father to become king. After all, he didn’t have a country when they married, and there wasn’t any clue that we’d ever get it back.”
“So she didn’t want to be a queen.”
“She didn’t want to give up her life, her home, her friends,” Alexi said, his expression showing he’d resigned himself to his parents’ situation long ago. “My father taught history. She was much happier being married to a professor than a king.”
“I suppose I can understand her point. I mean, there’s got to be a lot of hassles when you’re a monarch. Lack of privacy, lots
