in the hell, Hank wondered, could he be jealous of a man he didn’t know? Prince Alexi had rubbed him the wrong way from the moment Wendy had told him about the prince running off with Kerry Lynn. Not that he was jealous because of Kerry Lynn. No, as much as he hated to admit it, Hank knew he was jealous because Wendy had spent so much of her time with the prince. A man who apparently had everything but common sense…and maybe common decency. Why in the world would he leave Lady Wendy—a long-time friend and employee—in the lurch to pursue a selfish desire for a little fun? How could he do that to a fine woman like her?
Hank knew he shouldn’t be thinking about Wendy’s personal situation, but there was just something about her that brought out his protective instincts. She was a foreigner in this land, far away from home and charged with a huge responsibility. She had a lot of guts, which he admired in anyone, but more than that, she was as sexy as hell for a prim-and-proper English lady.
For one thing, she had a beautiful mouth, wide and as inviting as all get out. Her teeth were straight and white, and when he’d kissed her, she’d tasted like heaven on earth. When she grinned really big, like when he’d teased her after their last dance, he’d discovered two dimples that made him want to keep her smiling for a long time. Which wasn’t going to happen. She was here in the U.S. temporarily; he didn’t plan to leave Texas unless he had to on business.
“Doesn’t matter,” Hank muttered to himself. Wendy was fun to tease, exciting in an innocent manner and admirable in her dedication to her job, but she was really just another woman who was using him to get what she wanted.
Hell, he didn’t hold that against her. He’d agreed to the job for his own reasons. He was learning some manners, getting some exposure to fine clothes and shoes, so he couldn’t complain. His ranch was in good hands for a few days and he was having fun.
He reached for the sheaf of papers, shaking off his morose thoughts for more practical matters. Tomorrow he wouldn’t be meeting any dukes, earls or barons, but he still had to look the role of a prince.
“Piece of cake,” he murmured. After all, he’d been playing the role of a devil-may-care rodeo champion for most of his adult life.
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