Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna: The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary

That brought him back to his senses as nothing else could, and with a hastily swallowed oath, he jerked his hand back and handed her her sock. “If you’re sure. Tell me if it starts to hurt you.”

Rising to his feet, he vowed he wasn’t going to touch her again. But as soon as she’d pulled her sock and boot back on and they continued moving north, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to help her whenever they reached a rough spot. And with every touch of their hands, he found it harder and harder to let her go.

When they finally reached the end of the narrow valley and stumbled onto a road, Lorenzo was torn between relief and frustration. He didn’t have to touch her anymore, but they’d come to the end of the trail. Once Lucas reached the road, he could have gone anywhere.

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.