become close friends, dear friends. And now they were even more than that—they were lovers.
Of course, as soon as the weddings were over in February, he’d be making a trip to the airfield, where he would board a chartered flight on Redmond-Fortune Air to Dallas, connecting to British Airways and flying first class to Heathrow.
But for the first time since in arriving in Texas, Jensen wasn’t the least bit homesick for London—or eager to return.
Jensen refused to risk Amber’s reputation with the threat of the paparazzi still lurking. And even if he wasn’t concerned about them making a tabloid-newsworthy spectacle of themselves, he couldn’t trust himself to see her and keep his hands off her. Instead, they talked on the mobile several times each day. But it was never enough.
He’d give anything to whisk her away to a deserted island, where he could be alone with her, but they were stuck in Horseback Hollow, where he was finding it more and more difficult to keep their relationship quiet. All his efforts at secrecy made him fidgety—or maybe his wish to spend every spare moment he had with Amber was doing that.
Either way, Quinn had picked up on it and brought it to the forefront during the third week in January, while they had their morning coffee.
“Looks to me like you have a little cabin fever,” Quinn said.
Jensen slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and his fingers wrapped around the gold watch. “A bit, I suppose. I can’t seem to slip out of here without the paparazzi sitting up and taking note.”
“You sure that’s all it is?”
No, but Jensen didn’t feel like talking about it. “They’ll eventually get tired of hanging out here and go look for a story elsewhere.”
“Seems like you’d be used to all that. There’s nothing else bothering you?”
“Being away from home for so long has me concerned about the office, the Chesterfield estate and that sort of thing.”
“That’s it, huh?”
“What makes you think there’s anything more than that?”
“Because you’re wearing out the floorboards pacing back and forth. And you keep picking up your cell phone—or mobile, as you call it—as if you’re dying to place a call. Yet I know what time you typically talk to your assistant back home, thanks to the time change, and that you told me that your office seems to have things well under control across the pond.” Quinn took a sip of coffee, stretched out his legs and smiled. “So I thought it might have more to do with a pretty former rodeo queen.”
Jensen stiffened, but he didn’t give his brother-in-law’s theory any credence. At least, not verbally. Ostensibly, his body language might not be so subtle.
“I’m the last one in the world to believe anything those tabloids print,” Quinn added. “But I have to admit, you look a little lovesick to me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’d know best,” Quinn said.
“That’s right.” But did he really?
Jensen blew out a sigh. “All right, I’ll admit it. Amber Rogers has caught my eye—and she’s taken up a good deal of my thoughts. But nothing can come of it. And while I’d like to spend more of my time with her while I’m here, I don’t want her to have to deal with the paparazzi.”
“I hear you. Those jerks made Amelia’s life hell for a while—mine, too. And we’ve been keeping a low profile so they won’t do it again.” Quinn carried his empty mug to the sink and rinsed it out. “But if you and Amber enjoy each other’s company, it seems a shame to let those guys ruin what little time you have left.”
He certainly had a point.
After Quinn left the kitchen through the mudroom, grabbed his hat and headed outside, Jensen sat alone, pondering his dilemma. He’d let his worries about his privacy and the paparazzi steal precious time he could have spent with Amber face-to-face. And the clock was ticking. He only had about three weeks left in town.
Who knew when he’d be back? So he reached for his mobile and called Amber.
She answered on the second ring. “Good morning. You’re up early.”
No need to tell her he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since he’d left her ranch the night they’d made love in her barn. “I thought I’d have a cup of coffee with Quinn.”
“What? Trading in your teapot for a coffee grinder?” She tsked her tongue. “Sounds as though the Texas ruffians are having a bad influence on you.”
“You may be right.” Jensen found himself leaning back in his chair and grinning, as carefree as a child with no responsibilities in the world. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me tonight.”
“You already paid off your wager.”
“I was talking about a date—a real one.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. And if you have something other than blue jeans, you might want to dress up a bit.”
“Like a saloon girl?”
Jensen laughed. “As much as I’d love to see you in that sexy red dress again—in a barn setting or in the privacy of my bedroom—you’d better leave the costume at home.”
“All right. Just tell me what time and where to meet, and I’ll be there.”
They agreed upon seven o’clock at The Garden in Vicker’s Corners, and then Jensen set about making plans for the evening.
He was leery of being caught with Amber for more reasons than one. The paparazzi would have a field day with it—The Prince and the Cowgirl... Or, heavens! What if they’d gotten wind of her in that sexy saloon-girl outfit?
Still, Amber was worth the risk of a little notoriety, especially if that meant spending some quality time with her.
* * *
That evening, as Jensen prepared to leave for his date with Amber, his mother was seated on the divan at the Drummonds’ ranch, her mobile in hand, her head bowed.
“What are you doing, Mum?”
Lady Josephine glanced up, her cheeks flushed. “Sending a text.”
Where in the world had she ever learned how to send texts? One of Toby’s kids must have taught her. The oldest boy loved anything electronic.
His mother was one of the most technologically challenged people he knew, although it was high time she joined the rest of the world.
She slipped her mobile into the pocket of her tailored slacks, assessed him with a mother’s eye and smiled. “My, don’t you look handsome. Where
