Читать книгу Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna: The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary - Marilyn Pappano, Linda Turner, Marilyn Pappano - Страница 9

Chapter 6

The town of Lightning, Colorado, might have only been fifty miles from Boulder, but it was as far from the city as Jupiter was from the sun. With a population of three hundred, there was no hotel, no sophisticated restaurants, nothing that would appeal to royalty. The local café wasn’t open for dinner, but the bar next to the town’s only motel was. Divided by the two lane highway that went right through the middle of the town, Lightning was little more than a wide spot in the road. It couldn’t even claim a traffic light.

When Lorenzo pulled up in front of the motel, Eliza half expected him to suggest that they drive on to the next town before stopping for the night. The Lightning Bolt Motel was little more than an old-fashioned motor court that must have been there since the forties. A neon sign blinked in the office window, the parking lot was full of potholes and what little paint there was on the long, narrow ranch-style building was faded and chipped. To put it bluntly, the place looked like a dump.

But Lorenzo didn’t even blink twice at the sight of the place. “I’ll check in,” he said as he cut the engine. “There’s no use both of us going in. You can stay in the car and rest.”

Exhausted, Eliza could have hugged him for that. After they’d lost the prince’s trail when they’d come to the two-lane highway, they’d hiked back to the truck, retraced their route, then discreetly checked the towns up and down the highway in either direction, stopping at local restaurants, gas stations and hotels to see if anyone favoring a candid picture of Lucas had come through there during the past year. It was a tedious exercise in futility, and not surprisingly, no one had been able to help them.

Logically, they had both known finding the prince wasn’t going to be easy, not after so much time had passed since the crash, but the enormity of what they were up against hadn’t hit them until they kept running into one brick wall after another. The prince could be anywhere. For all they knew, he’d left the state of Colorado and could be sunning himself on the beaches of Florida…or Hawaii, for that matter. If he was even in the United States. At this point, there was no way to know.

They’d set themselves an impossible task—they were looking for a needle in a haystack—but Eliza knew Lorenzo was as dedicated as she to finding the prince. That wasn’t the problem. It was the realization that they were going to have to spend a lot more time together than either of them had anticipated.

Hours after she’d nearly twisted her ankle, she could still feel the touch of his hand on her. And he’d touched her countless times since. Every time they came to a stump or the creek or rocky ground when they were hiking through the woods, he’d held out his hand to her, his eyes had met hers, and something had passed between them that still had the power to make her heart turn over in her breast.

“Stop thinking about it,” she told herself sternly, but she couldn’t. Her imagination was a blessing and a curse at one and the same time. With no effort whatsoever, she only had to close her eyes to feel his hand slide slowly up her calf to her knee, then her thigh—

The driver’s door opened with no warning and Lorenzo slid behind the wheel. “Okay, we’re all set,” he began, only to stop when he noticed her face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Mortified by her thoughts, she quickly glanced away, pretending to study the long line of empty rooms and the equally empty parking lot. “Nothing. I’m just tired. I guess you didn’t have any problem getting two rooms.”

“The clerk said we could take our pick,” he replied, “so you’re in three and I’m in nine. Unless you’d rather switch. They’re the same.”

“Three’s fine,” she replied as he pulled up before her room. “You don’t have to get out. I can get my bag.”

She might as well have saved her breath. He was out of the truck before she was and pulling her small suitcase from behind the seat, where they’d stored the luggage. “No problem,” he assured her. “Here, let me get your door for you, too.” And before she could stop him, he unlocked the door to her room for her and escorted her inside.

There was nothing redeeming about the room, other than the fact that it was clean, but Eliza hardly noticed. In the small room, which was barely bigger than the full bed and dresser it held, Lorenzo stood so close she could smell the woodsy scent clinging to his skin and clothes. Long after he left to go to his own room, she knew the scent of him would linger to tease her senses.

“It’s not much to look at,” he said, surveying the room, “but the clerk assured me the beds are new and the linens are clean. If you’re half as tired as I am, you’ll sleep like the dead.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, thanks,” she replied.

They agreed to meet at the truck at nine the following morning, and with a soft good-night, Lorenzo left to go to his own room. Watching the door shut quietly behind him, Eliza knew she was in trouble when she wanted to call him back. Suddenly lonely, she told herself they were spending too much time together. A break would do her good.

But even as she acknowledged that she needed some time to herself to get her head on straight, she knew she couldn’t just sit in her room the rest of the evening and watch TV. She needed a distraction, something, anything, to get her mind off Lorenzo. Glancing out of the room’s narrow window, she found herself studying the bar next door. The bright neon sign in the window advertised food and live music. She and Lorenzo had had an early dinner, but that had been nearly an hour ago, and she hadn’t eaten much. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of some nachos, and she welcomed the distraction. Grabbing the key to her room, she shut the door behind her and headed for the bright lights across the parking lot.

It was Friday night, and Eliza wasn’t surprised that the place was packed—nothing else in town was open. The parking lot was full of pickups, and inside, cowboys and their girls occupied every table. “It’s a twenty-minute wait,” the harried hostess told Eliza as a party of six walked in right behind her. “Sorry I can’t promise you anything sooner, but we’re shorthanded tonight, and it’s Friday.”

That was all she needed to say. “I know what you mean,” Eliza told her with a smile. “I’ll wait at the bar.”

She’d wanted a distraction, and she’d gotten one. As she took one of the few empty seats at the bar, she took in the sight and sound and smell of the place and its clientele for her story. She wanted to remember everything for her readers.

“White wine,” she told the bartender when he was finally able to take her order.

“Put that on my tab,” the cowboy sitting next to her said, shooting her a bold grin. “A lady shouldn’t have to pay for her own drink.”

She saw the leer in his eyes and swallowed a groan. This wasn’t what she needed tonight. She was tired, she just wanted her wine and an order of nachos, and to be left alone. In the scheme of things, she didn’t think that was too much to ask.

“Thanks,” she said shortly, “but I can buy my own drink.” Turning her attention back to the bartender, she lifted a brow at him. “How much do I owe you?”

If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have noticed the cowboy was more than a little inebriated and, consequently, handled the situation differently. But she never saw the alcoholic glaze in his eyes—or the spark of anger that flared there at her words—until it was too late. The second the bartender took her money and walked away, her unwanted companion was leaning close and letting her have it with the sharp edge of his drunken tongue. “What’s the matter, Red? My money not good enough for you? Is that what you’re saying?’ Cause if it is, I don’t like your attitude, little girl. You hear me?”

Oh, she heard him, all right. How could she not? He had her pinned in her seat, trapping her there, and suddenly, her heart was slamming against her ribs in fear. She might have been slender, but she’d never thought of herself as little—until she found herself being glowered at by six feet four inches of very angry cowboy.

They were surrounded by people, she told herself. Nothing was going to happen to her in a crowded bar. But everything about the cowboy was threatening, and no one so much as glanced her way. The bartender was occupied at the other end of the bar, and everyone else was involved in their own conversations. Given the chance, he could have snapped her in two, and no one would have noticed until it was too late.

“Look,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s nothing personal—”

“She’s with me,” a familiar male voice said suddenly from behind her. “Have you got a problem with that?”

Eliza had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Glancing back over her shoulder, she smiled broadly. “Lorenzo! Thank God!”

She knew she must have lit up like a Christmas tree at the sight of him, and the cowboy didn’t like it one bit. Giving Lorenzo a hard glare, he growled, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her fiancé,” he lied without missing a beat. And just to be sure the cowboy understood, he laid his hand on Eliza’s shoulder, claiming her as his.

For one heart-stopping moment, Eliza was sure the man was going to belt him. His dark eyes narrowed dangerously, and even as she watched, his hands clenched into fists. But then the bartender made his way back to their end of the bar, another couple waiting for a table took seats on the other side of them, and the cowboy thought better of causing any more trouble. Backing off, he muttered, “You can have her, man. She’s too skinny, anyway. I like my women with some meat on their bones.”

Weak with relief, Eliza waited only until the man had turned and walked away before she burst out laughing and threw herself into Lorenzo’s arms. “Thank you! I was so scared! Did you see the size of his hands? I thought he was going to snap me in two like a toothpick.”

“What did you say to him?” he asked with a grin, chuckling as he returned her hug. “For a minute there, I thought we were both toast.”

“I don’t know what he was so bent out of shape about. All I did was insist on buying my own drink. Geez! You’d have thought I insulted his family name or something.”

“If that’s his usual way of picking up a woman, no wonder he’s alone,” Lorenzo retorted. “Are you all right?”

She laughed, feeling foolish. “Yeah, he just caught me off guard. I just came in for some nachos, and the next thing I know, a man’s trying to take my head off.”

“Eliza, your table’s ready,” the hostess said over the speaker system that was wired into the bar and hostess area. “Table for Eliza.”

“Finally!” she sighed, relieved. Completely forgetting the fact that she’d wanted some time away from him to get her head on straight, she smiled and said, “Would you like to join me? We can split an order of nachos…or something else, if you like. I lost my appetite, so it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Nachos sound great—if you’re sure you want company,” he added. “After dealing with that jerk, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to be alone for a while.”

“Oh, but you didn’t do anything! And if I hadn’t been so tired, I would have handled him with one hand tied behind my back.”

Lorenzo didn’t doubt that. If there was one thing he’d discovered about Eliza during the time he’d spent with her, it was that the lady was nothing if not self-sufficient. She carried her own bags, had no trouble taking the lead and never, ever, played the helpless female. A randy cowboy wouldn’t present any more of a problem for her than a flat tire. She’d deal with both, then go on her way.

And he liked that about her. The women he knew cringed at the thought of breaking a nail. None of them would have been caught dead traipsing through the mountains like he and Eliza had all day. They were too delicate for that, too cool to sweat. Not Eliza. She’d thrown herself into it with enthusiasm and never once complained. And she had no idea how much he admired her for that.

Still, he should have politely turned down her invitation. He hadn’t come into the bar in search of her—he’d wanted a drink to help him get her out of his head. Considering that, spending more time with her was not a wise thing to do. He should have said thanks but no thanks, and left her to his own devices while he ordered a double scotch. Instead, he heard himself say, “Lead the way.”

“Great! I hope you don’t mind jalapenos. I like my nachos spicy.”

Two steps behind her as they followed the hostess to their table, Lorenzo had to grin at that. Why wasn’t he surprised? She liked hot peppers, driving fast and doing whatever was necessary for a story. Whatever else the lady was, no one would ever accuse her of being a Milquetoast.

They arrived at their table then to discover it was located in a dark, intimate corner of the bar, away from the noise of the music and the conversation of the other customers. Lorenzo took one look at it and stiffened. Suddenly, splitting an order of nachos had become something else entirely, and he didn’t know how the hell it had happened.

He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. Eliza wasn’t any happier with the situation than he was. Frowning at the candle in the middle of the table, she muttered, “This is a bar, for heaven’s sake, not a romantic hideaway. We need another candle,” she told their waitress when she suddenly appeared with menus. “It’s dark back here.”

The waitress could have told her that bars were supposed to be dark, but she only shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do. What else can I get you?”

“Nachos,” Lorenzo said. “And another glass of wine for the lady, and a beer for me.”

She didn’t even write it down. “It’s coming right up,” she promised, then grabbed a candle from a nearby table where four young cowboys sat eating greasy burgers and drinking beer. Not missing a beat, she set the candle down in front of Eliza and moved on to the next customer. The cowboys didn’t so much as sputter in protest.

Her blue eyes twinkling, Eliza grinned. “I like her style.”

“She reminds me of you.”

That caught her by surprise. “Really? How? We don’t look anything alike.”

Since the waitress outweighed her by a good forty pounds and was a bleached blonde with a Dolly Parton hairdo, Lorenzo could understand her confusion. “Not in looks,” he explained. “It’s her attitude. She doesn’t let the cowboys around here make anything off of her. You don’t have any problem standing up for yourself, either. I heard how you spoke to your boss that morning he published the news that Lucas was alive. I was surprised he didn’t fire you.”

A rueful smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Simon wouldn’t do that. He might want to tar and feather me, but trust me, he’s not stupid enough to let the competition snap me up. Anyway, right’s right and wrong’s wrong, and he screwed up. Not that he would admit it,” she added. “There’s no fun in that.”

“It sounds like the two of you bicker like an old married couple.”

“Oh, we’re worse than that,” she laughed. “His wife said so!”

Chuckling, Lorenzo could just imagine them arguing over her column. She might gripe about Simon, but there was no question that she was fond of him…and that the editor brought out the best in her. Lorenzo had read her column. She was good.

“Your office must be a pretty wild place then,” he said as the waitress set the nachos they’d ordered in front of them. “How’d you get into writing? And about royalty, of all things?”

“Fairy tales,” she replied simply. “I’ve loved them since I was a little girl. When I discovered I had a way with words, it just seemed natural to write about the only people living modern day fairy tales.”

“Just because we live in palaces doesn’t mean life’s a fairy tale,” he said. “The prince’s plane crash is a fine example of that.”

“Fairy tales are full of tragedy,” she said with a shrug. “They just end with happily ever after.”

“And you think that’s how the prince’s story is going to end? All tied up with hearts and flowers and pink ribbons?”

He wasn’t the first person to react to her love of fairy tales with cynicism—she encountered it all the time. With him, as with the others, she merely smiled. “Time will tell, won’t it?”

She hadn’t meant to reveal so much of herself, but talking to him was so easy. As they munched on nachos and the waitress brought them fresh drinks, she told him about the screenplay she one day hoped to write, and he opened up about the years he’d spent in the military and how much he enjoyed being in charge of Montebello’s Royal Intelligence.From there, the conversation moved to their childhoods, their hopes and dreams, and where they each wanted to be when they were fifty. And somehow, time just seemed to slip away.

Eliza would have sworn they’d been there just a little over an hour when she glanced at her watch and saw that it was going on eleven. Shocked, she set her wineglass down with a thump. “Oh, my God! Look at the time!”

“Don’t panic,” Lorenzo laughed. “You’re not going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Cute,” she retorted, wrinkling her nose at him. “I’ve still got to write my notes for today and check in with Simon. He’s going to kill me for calling so late.”

“He’ll get over it,” he assured her as he rose to his feet. “But it is getting late.”

When he reached into his back pocket for his billfold, Eliza knew she only had to let him pay and the evening would have been a date. She was horrified to discover that she’d never wanted anything more. “No!” she said quickly when he tossed down a twenty to pay the entire tab. “I’ll pay for mine.”

She watched his eyes narrow and knew he knew exactly what she was doing, but he didn’t argue. “That’s fine. We can go dutch.” And picking up his twenty, he exchanged it for a ten.

Eliza added her own ten, then followed him outside. Her heart thundering, she half expected him to insist on walking her to her motel room door, but she could just imagine what would happen if he did. He’d open the door for her, check inside to make sure her room was safe, and somehow or other, they’d end up in each other’s arms.

Just the thought of him touching her, kissing her, left her weak at the knees. How long had she wanted him to kiss her without even knowing it? she thought, stunned.

“…if that’s okay with you.”

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t realize he’d spoken until he looked at her expectantly. Brought back to their surroundings with a blink, she wanted to crawl in a hole. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll watch you from here,” he said, coming to a stop in the parking lot midway between their two rooms, “to make sure you make it to your room without any problems. If that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, no…I mean, yes! That’ll be fine.” Disappointed, she forced a smile and was thankful he couldn’t see her blush in the poorly lit parking lot. “Then I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

She could feel his eyes on her all the way to her room, but Eliza never looked back. She didn’t dare. Her key clutched in her hand, she slipped inside and quietly shut the door. A split second later, she called Simon. They might argue like cats and dogs, but when she needed advice, whether it was business or personal, she could always trust him to say the right thing.

“This better be good, Red,” he growled the second he came on the line and recognized her voice. “I was really sawing wood.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, stalling for time. Because she needed to think of some excuse why she had been too distracted to call in. She couldn’t very well tell her boss she was in over her head with a certain devastatingly handsome duke.

Slouched on her couch and feeling sorry for herself because her boyfriend, Derek, had dumped her for no reason, Ursula Chambers stared at the TV with a jaundiced eye and paid little attention to the local news anchor, who read the lead story with an irritating nasal drawl. So what if some missing prince was believed to be alive, she thought sourly. She missed Derek. And she still didn’t know why he’d walked out. They were good together, dammit! If he’d resented it when she joked around with his buddies, he should have told her he didn’t like it, and she would have stopped. She wasn’t a mind reader. But had he opened his mouth? Hell, no! He’d shut up like a clam and hadn’t talked to her for days, then the next thing she knew, he was packing his things. It wasn’t fair!

Frustrated and starting to get angry, she grabbed the phone and was just about to punch in Derek’s number to give him a piece of her mind when her eyes fell on the TV screen and a picture of the missing prince that flashed there. Confused, she frowned. What the devil was the reporter talking about? The man in the picture wasn’t a prince. He was her sister’s ranch hand, Joe.

“Prince Lucas has been missing since his plane crashed in the mountains near Boulder last winter,” the reporter said. “New evidence, however, has been recovered that leads authorities to believe the prince may be alive. The investigation has been reopened, and a search is expected to be underway shortly.”

Confused, Ursula told herself she shouldn’t have had that second drink after dinner. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. But even as she tried to convince herself she was seeing things, pictures didn’t lie. Unless Prince Lucas of Montebello had an identical twin brother, he and Joe, the ranch hand her sister had been all lovey-dovey with a couple of weeks ago when Ursula had dropped in to see her, were one and the same.

Unable to take her eyes off the television screen until long after the news anchor had gone on to the next story, Ursula just sat there, stunned. Then it hit her. Her big break had arrived.

“My God! My sister’s hiding a prince—at my family ranch no less. This is it! I’m going to be rich!”

Laughing, she jumped up from the chair and danced a jig. She could see it now…her picture all over the papers and flashing on every TV screen in America. And the headlines—oh, they were going to be beautiful! Struggling Actress Finds Prince! She’d be a hero! Every producer in Hollywood would be kicking himself for not recognizing her talent when he’d had the chance. And she’d make them pay for that when they finally came knocking on her door, she promised herself smugly. Oh, yes, they’d pay.

And so would the king and queen of Montebello. What would they pay to have their only son back? They had to have billions. Just thinking about how grateful they would be made her weak at the knees. She would be invited to the palace, to balls and parties and fancy soirees. Hell, they might even ask her to move to Montebello and live with them! If she played her cards right, she could be sitting pretty for the rest of her life.

Oh, this was going to be good, she thought, purring in delight. Everyone who’d ever slammed a door in her face was going to regret it—she’d make sure of it—starting with Derek. The jerk! She’d loved him—and trusted him to make her a star. Then he’d walked out on her, and she’d lost her lover and manager at one and the same time. She’d been devastated, but had he cared? Hell, no! He’d laughed in her face and told her she would never be anybody. He was going to regret that.

Then there was the family. Oh, she supposed Jessica was sympathetic enough, but everyone else had snickered at her dreams of being a famous actress and made fun of her behind her back. And she’d hated them for that. For as long as she could remember, she’d been sick of being poor, sick of trying to get ahead and getting nowhere. She’d left home at eighteen because she couldn’t stand it anymore, because Hollywood was the dream factory of the world, and she wanted the life that Julia Roberts and Meg Ryan had. She could act as well as they could—she knew she could!

But she never got the chance. Her parents had died before she could even land her first part—small though it was. Without an agent, the only steady job open to her was waiting tables. Then she’d met Derek and he’d promised her he would make all her dreams come true. But the only part he ever got her was a bit in a porno flick, and what good was that when she couldn’t even brag about it to anyone, least of all her goody-goody sister?

He’d failed her and so had everyone else, and when she was finally forced to return to Colorado and her hometown of Shady Rock because she didn’t have a dime to her name, she’d been so bitter and disillusioned that she hadn’t come out of her apartment for days. That was weeks ago, and nothing had changed. All she’d been able to see ahead of her were days and weeks and months of blandness and poverty for the rest of her life.

Until now. Now she was going to have the last laugh.

Anticipation glinting in her blue eyes, she whirled around, looking around her messy apartment for her purse. She had to go to Jessica’s, had to see for herself that Joe and the prince were one and the same man. She didn’t understand what the prince was doing hanging around her sister—or why he didn’t seem to want to be found—but she didn’t care. As soon as she verified he was her man, she was calling King Marcus of Montebello. By the time she got through talking to him, she was going to be richer than Cleopatra!

Already spending the money in her mind, she had just found her purse and was in the process of digging for her car keys when there was a knock at her door. “Damn!” she swore. If that was old lady Baker from next door, there to complain because her TV was too loud again, she was going to tell her off. Let her go to the apartment manager—she didn’t care if they threw her out on her ear. She was about to come into money!

Prepared to tell the old goat exactly what she thought of her, she stormed across to the door and jerked it open, only to gasp, “Jessica! What are you doing here? I was just on my way out to the ranch to see you.”

“Oh, Ursula!” her sister sobbed. “I need your help. Joe left me!”

“What?!”

Caught up in her own misery, Jessica didn’t even notice that her sister paled at her words. Her heart hurting and tears flooding her soft, wide blue eyes, she stumbled into the apartment like a wounded animal and fell into Ursula’s arms. “I don’t know what happened,” she sobbed. “One second, everything was fine, and the next, we were arguing and he walked out.”

“What do you mean he walked out?” she demanded, awkwardly patting her. “He’ll be back, of course. He just needs some time to cool off. You’ll see. Leave him alone tonight, and by morning, he’ll be ready to kiss and make up.”

“No, he won’t,” she sniffed, pulling back to wipe her eyes. “He’s gone to find himself.”

Her heart breaking, Jessica knew she shouldn’t have said any more. Joe was entitled to his privacy, and even though he’d only met Ursula once, he hadn’t trusted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. He’d asked Jessica to keep his secret to herself, and she should have done that. But she dissolved in tears just at the thought of never seeing him again, and she had to talk to someone. And even if they weren’t all that close, Ursula was her sister, and the only family she had left now that her parents were gone.

“What do you mean he’s gone to find himself? Where?” she asked sharply. “What do you know about Joe, Jess? And don’t start crying again, dammit! This is important. Has he gone home?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffed. “He doesn’t know where home is.”

Ursula had never had much patience with emotional displays, and when Jessica saw her start to scowl, she cried, “It’s true! He has amnesia. That’s why he jumped at the chance to work for me when he came to the ranch all those months ago. He had nowhere else to go!”

Ursula had heard her fair share of tall tales, but this one was over the top. The man was a prince, for heaven’s sake! His family was rolling in dough, and as King Marcus’s only son, he stood to inherit a lion’s share of that. A man didn’t just forget that. Not unless he was crazy or something, and from what she’d seen of Joe the only time they’d met, he was a far cry from crazy. So what kind of scam was he trying to pull? Whatever it was, he had to know he wasn’t going to get away with it. She’d make sure of it, she vowed grimly.

“Let me get this straight,” she said with a frown. “He doesn’t know who he is, but he’s gone to find himself. How the hell is he going to do that, Jess, if he doesn’t know who he is?”

Tears still streaming down her face, she couldn’t answer that one. “I don’t know!” she cried. “I just know he’s gone, and I don’t know where. And I never got to tell him—”

When she broke off abruptly, Ursula pinned her with a hard look that would brook no opposition. “You never told him what? Tell me, Jess. You might as well. You know I’m going to find out anyway.”

She’d always had a way of getting secrets out of her little sister, and they both knew it. It only took another chiding look for Jessica to cave in like a stack of dominoes. Hugging herself, she blurted out, “I’m pregnant! And Joe doesn’t know.”

Stunned, Ursula just looked at her. Then her condition—and its repercussions—registered, and with a shriek, she swept Jessica into her arms. “Honey, that’s wonderful!” If they didn’t have the prince, they had his heir! And that sweet, adorable baby that was destined to be king would be her nephew! “When did you find out? Why haven’t you told me? Here, sit down. We have to make plans!”

Hustling Jessica over to the nearest chair, she plopped her down in it, then grabbed a footstool for her to rest her feet on. “Can I get you something? Are you drinking plenty of milk? We want the baby to have strong bones. When’s he due?”

“I don’t even know if he is a he,” her sister replied. Frowning in confusion, she looked at Ursula like she’d suddenly grown two heads. “This wasn’t the reaction I expected from you. I thought you’d be upset with me…especially now that Joe’s taken off. How am I going to run the ranch and have a baby? There’s so much to do around there already. I can’t do everything by myself.”

Far from concerned, Ursula only laughed. “Don’t you worry about that, honey. Trust me, you’re going to be well taken care of—Joe’s family will see to that.”

“His family? What are you talking about? I told you he has amnesia. He doesn’t even know what his real name is, let alone who his family is.”

“He may not,” her sister retorted slyly, “but I do.” Snatching up the morning newspaper, she opened it to the front page and wasn’t surprised to find Prince Lucas’s picture there for all the world to see. “Look,” she said, pushing the paper at her. “You fell in love with the prince, Cinderella! His real name is Prince Lucas Sebastiani of Montebello.”

Not even looking at the picture, Jessica laughed. “Right! And I’m Queen Elizabeth. Stop fooling around, Ursula.”

“I’m not joking. Look!”

With the picture shoved right under her nose, she had no choice but to look at it. Humoring her, she said, “Okay, so he’s a prince—”

Her gaze dropped to the smiling man in the picture, and between one heartbeat and the next, her world turned upside down. Though the beard was gone and the face younger and less care-and weatherworn, she couldn’t deny the resemblance. Stunned, she gasped, “Oh, my God, that’s Joe! How—”

“No,” her sister corrected her, “that’s Prince Lucas. Read the article, Jess.”

Her blood roaring in her ears, Jessica tried to read the article that accompanied the bold headlines, but all she saw was the prince’s name before her gaze was tugged back to the man in the picture. Joe. It had to be him. There couldn’t be another man in the world who had that same engaging smile and twinkle in his eye. But he wasn’t a prince. How could he be? He was just a drifter who’d showed up at the ranch one day looking for work.

“I don’t understand,” she said huskily, glancing back up at Ursula in confusion. “How can this be?”

“He crashed his plane into the side of a mountain somewhere outside of Boulder last year, and he’s been missing ever since. He must have hit his head, sweetie.”

“And all this time, he’s been wandering around, trying to find out who he is. My God, that’s so sad! I’ve got to find him!”

She would have struggled up from her chair and hurried out to her truck to begin immediately looking for him, but Ursula moved lightning quick to stop her. “Oh, no you don’t! The prince can take care of himself. You’ve got other more important things to do—like taking care of yourself and the baby. I think you need to go to Montebello.”

“What?!”

“It’s the only logical thing to do,” she retorted, already picturing where she would live in the royal palace. She might even find herself a royal husband! “The king needs to know that he’s about to become a grandfather. I’ll go with you to tell him. He can see that you’re taken care of—after all, you’re the mother of his grandson. Then when his son is found, he’ll make sure he does the right thing and marries you.”

“Oh, no! I would never use the baby to force a proposal out of Joe,” she said, horrified. “He doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.”

“He’ll know soon enough when we find him.”

“No! If he loves me, he’ll come back to me without knowing about the baby.”

“But the baby could one day be king of Montebello,” she pointed out. “You have to tell the king!”

Her heart bruised and aching, Jessica didn’t care two cents about that. It was Joe she cared about, Joe she loved. She desperately needed him to return that love, and for the last few months, she’d convinced herself that he did. She’d seen the emotion in his eyes, felt it in his touch, tasted it in his kiss. But he’d left without ever saying the words, and that hurt.

“The only thing I care about is Joe,” she cried as tears once again welled in her eyes. “What if he never comes back?”

But even as she cried out in pain, memories stirred, and suddenly, she had a vague recollection of Joe talking about his duty to himself and others. And just that easily, she knew Ursula was right. He had left her to go back to his real life! And he hadn’t said a word about who he was. Why? Because he was afraid she would want something from him or his family.

Hurt, her pride stung, she wiped away the last of her tears and squared her shoulders. He didn’t have to worry about her trying to contact him, she thought grimly. It wasn’t going to happen.