A Royal Baby on the Way Page 3

  ‘‘It would only be for a short time,’’ Alex said quickly, focusing all her attention on Mitch. ‘‘I would only need a place to sleep and somewhere to set up a small office. I know this would be a tremendous imposition, but I desperately need to speak with your brother. If he’s not the missing heir, then he might know something important about the others. I’ll be happy to pay whatever you’d like.’’

  At her final statement, Mitch’s shocked expression shifted to narrow-eyed irritation. ‘‘This isn’t about money,’’ he said slowly.

  Too late Alex realized she’d offended her potential host. ‘‘Yes, of course. I didn’t mean—’’

  But she never got to say what she didn’t mean. Rowan was already talking.

  ‘‘This is completely out of the question, ma’am. I cannot spare the personnel necessary to keep you safe here on a ranch in the middle of Arizona. You must return to Aspen and stay with your sisters.’’

  Rowan’s gaze also narrowed. What was it with men and their steely looks? She braced herself, knowing that the by-the-book bodyguard was about to play his trump card. ‘‘If I don’t receive your cooperation in this matter, I will be forced to go to the king.’’

  Alex felt herself being maneuvered into a corner. If Rowan called her father, there was no way she could keep their mission in America a secret. She had to keep the security agent’s cooperation and stay on the ranch. Talking to John Colton was important.

  ‘‘I’m not sure I see the problem,’’ Alex said with a calm she didn’t feel. ‘‘The ranch is isolated, which works to our advantage. Who would look for me here?’’

  Rowan stepped closer to her. He lowered his voice. ‘‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is a matter best left to professionals. While Mr. Colton passed the preliminary background check we did yesterday, there is no telling what a more detailed study might find. What do you know about him or the people who work here?’’

  ‘‘Wait one damn minute,’’ Mitch said, coming to his feet. ‘‘I’ll vouch for every cowboy on this ranch. Just because we don’t live in some fancy castle doesn’t mean we’re not decent, hardworking folks.’’

  ‘‘I’m sure that’s true,’’ Rowan said with obvious insincerity, ‘‘however it does nothing to ensure the princess’s personal safety.’’

  Alex had to press her lips together to keep from smiling. If Rowan and Mitch were going to get into a male power contest, then she was bound to win. The harder Rowan pushed, the more Mitch would shove back. In a matter of minutes the cowboy would be insisting she stay for as long as she liked.

  ‘‘My family has been safe enough here for three generations,’’ Mitch growled.

  ‘‘Your family hardly compares to a royal princess.’’

  ‘‘So you’re saying we’re not good enough for the likes of her.’’

  Rowan clearly saw his mistake a moment too late. ‘‘Not at all,’’ he amended. ‘‘It’s more a matter of not knowing enough about you.’’

  Mitch took a step toward him. The cowboy was about three inches taller and twenty pounds heavier. From what Alex could tell, every one of those pounds was muscle. Mitch had shoulders broad enough to, well, be an old-time movie cowboy, she thought as she studied the way he went toe-to-toe with Rowan. His hair was a medium brown, a few shades lighter than Rowan’s. It was also a bit longer, just grazing the collar of his blue work shirt. The contrast between the two men’s dress—Rowan in his tailored suit and Mitch in jeans and boots—highlighted the differences in their personalities. Rowan was content to work for the royal family, keeping their princesses safe. Alex suspected Mitch had never worked for anyone but himself and that he preferred it that way.

  ‘‘Maybe you should take a few more minutes to find out about me,’’ Mitch said.

  ‘‘This situation is out of the question.’’

  Mitch jerked a thumb at Alex. ‘‘Seems to me the lady is the one in charge. Now why don’t you go do what you have to so she can get her way in this?’’

  Alex’s mouth twitched again, but she forced herself to maintain a pleasantly neutral, faintly regal expression. It was one she’d perfected in her teens, after hours of practicing in front of a mirror. When Rowan pulled a cellular phone from his pocket and ventured out of the kitchen, Mitch gave her a quick wink.

  He was nice, she thought with some surprise. She’d been so caught up in the excitement of actually being on a working ranch, then disappointed that John Colton wasn’t available, that she hadn’t paid much attention to her host. He had an ease about him. Even though he was having a little trouble dealing with the fact that she was a princess, he didn’t let the information overwhelm him. She had a feeling he was one of those people who would quickly forget the fact and start treating her like a regular person. The thought was heady indeed. She was rarely allowed to be anything but the eldest daughter of a king.

  ‘‘Is this really that important?’’ Mitch asked. ‘‘I don’t usually get into power struggles with complete strangers, but I didn’t like his attitude.’’

  Rowan and Ted had retired to one of the other rooms. She could hear both of their voices as they made the necessary calls to find out all they could about Mitch Colton and his ranch.

  ‘‘It’s important to my family,’’ she said. It was also important to her, but she wasn’t going to share her personal reasons for wanting to know the truth about her brother. She couldn’t say she missed James. She’d been born nearly a year after he’d been kidnapped so they’d never met. But until she knew for sure if there was a male heir to the Wynborough throne, she couldn’t plan her life.

  ‘‘Seems like a lot of fuss just to have a conversation,’’ Mitch told her. His gaze moved down her body, then retraced the journey back to her face. ‘‘You look like the kind of woman who makes trouble. That true?’’

  This time Alex allowed herself to smile. ‘‘I don’t believe I’ve ever made trouble in the past.’’

  ‘‘Right.’’ The single word was issued in a tone of disbelief. ‘‘In my experience, someone as attractive as you can’t help but make trouble.’’

  Alex felt a flush of pleasure stain her cheeks. He thought she was attractive? ‘‘Thank you.’’

  ‘‘You can take it as a compliment if you want, but I didn’t mean it in a good way. I don’t want trouble in my life. I like things just the way they are.’’

  ‘‘I’m not going to change things.’’

  He shook his head. ‘‘You can’t help it, princess. You’ve got high maintenance written all over you.’’

  Alex was reasonably confident she’d been insulted, but she wasn’t sure how. ‘‘High maintenance? What does that mean?’’

  He walked to the large window over the sink and stared out at the well-tended yard beyond. It was late October and many of the flowers had lost their blossoms, but lush green stalks still grew up toward the sun.

  ‘‘It means you’ve got more luggage than what’s in your trunk and that I’m going to regret not letting your security guy win.’’

  She stiffened. ‘‘While I do have more luggage that will be sent to me, I promise not to get in the way. I’ll need a bedroom and some place to set up an office. I have to stay in touch with both my sisters and the palace.’’ She thought about the logistics. ‘‘Maybe a couple of phone lines for calls and the fax machine. The computer can share that line and…’’ She glanced at him. ‘‘Is that what you meant by high maintenance? I assure you I will cover any expenses.’’

  ‘‘I don’t doubt that for a minute.’’ He jerked his head toward the closed kitchen door. ‘‘Your security people are going to give me and my employees the all clear, so let me give you the nickel tour and you can start planning your redecorating.’’

  As he left the bright kitchen, Alex trailed after him. ‘‘Mr. Colton, I sense your resistance to this plan. While I need to be close to speak with your brother when he returns, I won’t stay here if you find the idea repugnant.’’

  He’d w
alked into a large living room. Like the kitchen, the room was big with hardwood floors and oversize pieces of furniture. Brightly colored rugs picked up tones from the sofas and the paintings on the walls. A huge rock fireplace dominated the far wall. It was a room one could relax in, she thought as her gaze drifted from the dozens of family pictures over the mantel to the handmade afghan over the back of the sofa.

  Mitch stopped in the middle of the room and spun on his heel to face her. ‘‘Let’s get a couple of things straight. First, call me Mitch. I’ll call you Alex, even if it’s gonna give your security people a seizure.’’

  ‘‘Rowan’s more of a silent suffering kind of individual.’’

  Mitch’s stern expression relaxed a little. He had warm brown eyes, she thought. And a very nice mouth—well shaped and firm looking, without being hard. She’d never really taken the time to notice a man’s mouth before. How strange that she should do so now.

  ‘‘Second,’’ Mitch went on, ‘‘try to avoid using really big words. It’s not that I don’t have a college degree, but folks around here prefer life simple and their friends straightforward. You’re a little fancy for the ranch, so you’re going to have a work at fitting in.’’

  Alex didn’t know how to respond to that. ‘‘I’ll do my best,’’ she managed.

  ‘‘That’s all anyone can ask.’’

  He led the way through the living room and down a long hallway. ‘‘The house has five bedrooms. I’m going to give you the two at the back of the house because they have the most privacy. There’s a Jack-and-Jill bathroom between them. This was always sort of the guest suite, so it should suit your needs.’’

  She had a brief impression of open doors and large bedrooms, then Mitch came to a stop at the end of the hallway. He moved aside to let her enter first.

  Alex stepped into a large bedroom with a four-poster bed and a long triple dresser. To the left, a big bay window let in light and had a window seat. The quilt and matching rugs looked handmade and very old. She walked to the bed and touched the pale-pink-and-green quilted squares. The tiny stitches told their own story and she wondered about the women who had spent hours making this gift of the heart.

  ‘‘It’s lovely,’’ she said, meaning both the room and the handmade spread.

  ‘‘It’s no palace, but it’s clean and quiet. That armoire has a television in it. We have a satellite dish so you can keep up with what’s going on back home.’’

  Alex checked out the walk-in closet. Her clothes would fit nicely. ‘‘I won’t have any trouble with that. I’ll be sent daily bulletins. Some things will come by fax or e-mail, but the sensitive documents will be hand delivered by a messenger.’’

  ‘‘What’s so important that it can’t wait until you get home?’’

  She looked at him and smiled. ‘‘I’m not just a princess. I have official state duties that continue to be my responsibility even when I’m out of the country.’’

  She crossed to the door leading to the bathroom and stared at the vanity and double sink. Another door led to the toilet and tub. Beyond that was a matching vanity and the study beyond. ‘‘So that’s what you meant when you said ‘Jack-and-Jill’ bathroom. I’d never heard the expression before.’’ Mitch had followed her on her inspection tour. She gave a light laugh. ‘‘I was half expecting something labeled His and Hers.’’

  ‘‘No. Families do this when they have a bunch of kids. It makes it easier for them to share a bathroom without arguing over who’s spending too much time at the mirror.’’

  ‘‘I see.’’ Although she couldn’t. Alex didn’t think she’d ever shared a bathroom with anyone.

  The sister bedroom to hers had been converted into a study complete with a desk across from a sofa and chair. The matching bay window faced a fenced paddock that held three mares. Alex crossed the room to gaze at them.

  The animals grazed in the peaceful afternoon. She felt a flicker of envy. What would it be like to live a life like this one? ‘‘It’s so quiet here,’’ she said. ‘‘When I left Aspen, there were security people everywhere. My sisters were arguing over who got what bedroom, and the cook was complaining because the proper supplies had yet to be delivered. To make it all the more interesting, half the town had already figured out we were in residence, so there was a constant stream of cars driving by the front gates. It’s just a matter of time until the press starts camping out.’’

  ‘‘If your sisters are as pretty as you, then I can sure understand why. Any of you married?’’

  It was the second time he’d complimented her. Over the years she’d been told many positive things about her appearance. Some had been outrageous flattery, and some she’d believed. Even so, no practiced collection of words had made her feel as flustered as this man’s casual comments.

  ‘‘Um, no. We’re all still single. I’m the oldest.’’ She smiled. ‘‘I’ve had several rock stars propose, but I’ve managed to steer clear of any romantic engagements.’’

  He leaned against the door frame, and it seemed as if he held up the wall instead of the other way around. ‘‘I can’t imagine living like that,’’ he said. ‘‘I promise no press or rock stars out here. The most excitement will be when Betty, my housekeeper, finds out you’re really a princess. She has a thing for royalty. She follows the British royal family and that one in Monaco.’’

  His gaze drifted over her body again. As he looked at her, she had the oddest sensation of heat and pressure, almost as if he was really touching her skin. How ridiculous, she told herself. It must be jet lag.

  ‘‘She’s going to want to fatten you up,’’ he said.

  It took her a minute to figure out who the ‘‘she’’ was. ‘‘Your housekeeper?’’

  ‘‘Yeah. Betty’s not one for skinny women.’’

  She wanted to ask about his preference, but didn’t have the courage. Besides, something wonderfully alive and hot flickered in his eyes. Something that made her mouth go dry and her legs tingle.

  Their conversation was far too personal to be appropriate, she thought, trying to distract herself. Yet if she was honest with herself, she would admit that she didn’t want to change the subject. Nor did she want to complain about the way Mitch was looking at her. Because very few men bothered to see her as a woman instead of a princess. Alex would have bet her favorite pair of diamond earrings that at that moment he’d completely forgotten she was anything close to royalty.

  She had to clear her throat before she could speak. ‘‘You have a very lovely home, Mitch, and I’m honored to stay here. Thank you.’’

  ‘‘Your watchdog hasn’t cleared me yet.’’

  ‘‘Is there any doubt?’’

  He sighed. ‘‘Not a one. And I’m a dozen kinds of crazy for letting you move in, princess.’’

  ‘‘Will it be so awful?’’

  His gaze settled on her face. She found herself studying his mouth and wishing it weren’t quite so intriguing.

  ‘‘Awful?’’ he asked. ‘‘No. It’s going to be worse.’’

  *

  At exactly seven that evening, as it did every Sunday night, the phone rang. Mitch picked it up on the first ring. ‘‘Hi, Mom, hi, Dad,’’ he said into the receiver.

  ‘‘Mitch!’’

  His parents greeted him as they always did, their familiar voices bright with pleasure.

  ‘‘How are things up there?’’ Mitch asked as he leaned back in his favorite chair and closed his eyes.

  He could picture his parents in their quarters in their bed-and-breakfast in the San Juan Islands in Washington state. They’d retired there about five years before with the intent of buying a small house and finally taking things easy. After six months they’d both been going crazy with boredom. As his mother put it, a body couldn’t spend a lifetime working from sunup until midnight and then just stop. So they’d purchased a small bed-and-breakfast, fixed it up and started catering to an upscale crowd. They both loved it.

  ‘‘We’re doing well. I
have to tell you, though, some days I think cattle are a darn sight easier to deal with than people,’’ his father said.

  His mother laughed. ‘‘He’s just annoyed because some of the guests wouldn’t go on his evening walk. You know how your father likes to collect everyone together, then herd them along the path by the cliffs.’’

  ‘‘The exercise makes them appreciate their dinners more. It’s healthy.’’

  ‘‘They’re on vacation, Bob. Let them rest.’’

  It was a familiar argument. Enough of one that Mitch allowed himself to be distracted by faint noises coming from the back of the house. He hadn’t seen much of his guest since her security team had reluctantly cleared both him and his employees. They’d driven off only a short time ago, and that was after leaving him with pages of written instructions, phone numbers to call in case of emergency and a cell phone that connected automatically with the FBI.

  He knew he was going to regret letting Princess Alexandra of Wynborough stay with him, and not just because she was going to be a pain in the butt. He was going to regret it because she was the first woman in a long time who tempted him. He couldn’t help staring at her body and wondering what it would feel like next to and under his. He wanted to kiss her and hold her and lick her and—

  ‘‘Mitch, are you listening?’’

  His mother’s voice broke through his erotic daydream.

  ‘‘I’m here, Mom.’’

  ‘‘Is everything all right?’’

  He’d decided not to mention his guest to his parents. His mom would get way too excited about royalty, and his dad would figure it was a cover for a hot romance and start talking about grandkids. ‘‘Everything’s fine. Have you heard from John?’’

  There was a brief pause. He knew both his folks would be momentarily sad at the thought of their youngest son. They never understood his need to roam, although they respected it and always welcomed him home. ‘‘Not in a few weeks.’’