0373659504 (R) (26 page)

“Chase is perfect,” Lucie agreed now, “although I wouldn’t recommend calling him ‘lovely’ to his face. A native Texan won’t appreciate that description, Charles. But I’m talking about you.” She punched a few keys on her cell phone and lifted it for a better view. She’d gone to one of the online tabloid sites so popular in Britain.

The headline displayed on the small screen read
Is the Third Time a Charm for Bonnie Lord Charlie?
An obvious reference to Charles’s two previous broken engagements. Below the headline was a grainy photo of Charles and a beautiful, thin and very regal-looking brunette.

“Lady Caterina Hayworth?” Lucie asked, her brow puckered. “Tell me you’re not engaged to Conniving Cat. I know you like your women brainless and beautiful, but she’s a social climber of the worst sort. You must know she wants your celebrity status as much as she wants you.”

“I hate that nickname,” he muttered, running his finger along the smooth screen as if he could blot out the maddening words.

“Conniving Cat?” Lucie waved a hand in the air. “Perhaps it isn’t kind, but you must admit—”

“Not that one,” he clarified. “Hell, Caterina loves the moniker. I think she was the one to start it. I mean ‘Bonnie Lord Charlie.’” He scrubbed a hand over his face, the transatlantic time change suddenly catching up with him tenfold. “Jensen is the one with the title.” Their mother, Josephine May Fortune Chesterfield, had married Sir Simon Chesterfield after ending her first, loveless marriage to Rhys Henry Hayes. “The press doesn’t feel the need to give Brodie or Oliver a fake title,” Charles said, referring to their two older half brothers from Josephine’s first marriage. “And calling me ‘bonnie’ is ridiculous. I’m a twenty-nine-year-old man, not a wee lad toddling around in rompers.”

“You
are
quite handsome.” Lucie’s smile turned sympathetic. “I’m sure it’s meant as a compliment.”

“It’s an implied dig that I don’t
do
anything, that I have nothing to offer but my face and my family’s good name. No use denying it.”

Her slim shoulders stiffened. “You do plenty, Charles. I think your ads single-handedly doubled the number of women vacationing in Britain over the past year.”

He fought back a grimace, even though he had no one but himself to blame. The ad campaign that featured him promising visitors to England “the royal treatment” had started as a joke during a meeting he’d attended with the British Tourism Council two years ago. He’d been expected to bring ideas to the table, but had spent the night before the meeting clubbing with friends and had shown up to the meeting a half hour late with a raging headache. He’d pitched the Royal Treatment campaign as a jest, but the council had loved it. Before he knew what was happening, Charles ended up the star of a series of print and television ads, wearing a tux in front of various British monuments, giving it his best James Bond–meets–Mr. Darcy impression.

He was happy to do his part for queen and country, but lately wished his contribution could be of a more meaningful sort. Lucie, like their mother, devoted herself to various charitable organizations. Their brother Jensen was a successful financier. Everyone in his family had something of substance to offer.

Except Charles.

That, too, was his fault. For years he’d cultivated his image as a good-time guy. He’d been the charmer in his family as a kid, perpetually entertaining his parents and siblings, always good for a laugh. After Sir Simon died, it had seemed the right thing to do to make his mother smile as often as he could. So that’s what people had come to expect from him—a good time. Only his father had ever seemed to want him to be something more.

“That is part of why I’m here. I have meetings set up with the Texas Tourism Board next week. We’d like to do some cross-promotions—Texans and high tea. That sort of thing.” He leaned forward. “Did you know almost three million Americans are projected to visit England this year?”

“And most of them want ‘the royal treatment’?” Lucie asked with a laugh.

Charles forced a smile. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. “I suppose. You’re right about me needing an escape. There’s work and family, but I also needed to get away from the press. Cat and I were nowhere near to being engaged. We weren’t even a proper couple.”

Lucie taped a finger on the cell phone screen. “Did she know that?”

“Chalk it up to selective hearing on her part,” Charles said. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s a lovely lady.” He sighed. “They’re all lovely ladies.”

“But what about the right woman, Charles?” Lucie took a sip of her wine and waved away the waiter who approached their table. “Now that Chase and I are together, you’re officially the last man standing in the family. Brodie, Oliver, Jensen and Amelia are happy in Horseback Hollow. Even Mum seems to have found love again.”

“Jensen mentioned a burgeoning romance with Orlando Mendoza.” Charles was happy for his mother, although it was difficult to imagine her with anyone but his father.

“She’s glowing,” Lucie said with a wistful sigh.

“Then the two of you have that in common, dear sister.” Charles twirled the stem of the wineglass between two fingers. “Marriage...remarriage...whatever you want to call it agrees with you. But I don’t believe there’s only one woman in the world for me.”

“Because you haven’t met her yet,” Lucie argued.

“I’ve met plenty of women.”

“And bedded most of them.”

Charles took a long drink of wine. “I’m absolutely
not
having this conversation with my sister.”

“If you’d only—”

At that moment, Charles’s cell phone rang. He drew the device out of his coat pocket as Lucie frowned.

“Send the call to voice mail,” she told him with her best sisterly glare. “I’m not finished lecturing you.”

He grinned, then glanced at the display. “Sorry, sis, it’s an Austin number. Might be important
royal
business.” But when he accepted the call and said hello, whoever was on the other end of the line was silent. “Anyone there?” he asked into the phone.

He was about to hang up when he heard a funny squeak that might have been “hello.”

A throat cleared. “Is this Charles?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Who wants to know?” he responded, then met Lucie’s curious gaze and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hang up,” his sister whispered.

Charles understood her reaction. The caller was likely a reporter trying to track him down, or one of the frequent fame hounds who’d come after his family through the years, especially since their connection to the prominent Fortunes was revealed. Charles, like all the Fortune Chesterfields, had learned to guard his privacy—one more reason the tabloid photo with Lady Caterina irked him.

But something about the way the woman on the other end of the phone spoke his name intrigued him. Her voice was soft, with a sweet Texas drawl and more than a hint of nerves. Charles might be a magnet for women, but the timid girls typically gave him a wide berth.

“This is Alice,” the woman told him.

“Alice,” he repeated, liking the way the two syllables sounded on his tongue. But he had no recognition of an Alice from his past.

“Alice Meyers,” she continued, a little breathlessly. “I’m sorry to call you out of the blue. I got your number from the tourism board office.”

Right. Suddenly an image—a beautiful blonde, with long legs and a shy but sexy smile—popped into his mind.

Alice cleared her throat again. “We met last year—”

“At the tourism conference here in Austin,” he continued. “I remember you.” Charles tried to hide his small smile from Lucie. What he remembered most about Alice was spending a blissful night with her in his hotel room after the conference ended. He’d even asked for her number, something he rarely did after a casual dalliance. But he’d liked Alice Meyers, and he’d thought she liked him. Too bad when he’d come out of the shower the next morning she’d disappeared from his hotel room and his life.

Now, more than a year later, she was ringing him. Charles felt his smile widen. Intriguing, indeed.

* * *

Alice breathed a sigh of relief that Charles remembered her. Of course, she’d known who he was before they’d met at the bar in the conference hotel last spring. Every woman between the ages of ten and ninety knew Bonnie Lord Charlie. But she hadn’t expected him to commit her to memory. Men rarely did.

She’d followed his romantic exploits in the tabloids since their encounter, and it was a wonder Charles could remember what girl he was with on any given night. The man seemed to be the British equivalent of the Energizer Bunny when it came to women.

“Alice, are you still there?” His crisp accent broke through her musings.

“I need to see you,” she blurted, then bit down hard on her lip as silence greeted her outburst. He was bound to think she was a stalker for calling him out of blue and making such a bold request.

“That’s a lovely offer,” he said finally, sounding every bit the aristocrat he was. How was it possible for him to sound more British than before? “But I’m fairly booked on this visit.”

“It’s important,” she whispered, swallowing back the emotion clogging her throat. “I promise I won’t take much of your time.”

“Can you give me a hint what this mysterious meeting might entail?”

“It’s personal and...” She paused, then added, “Please, Charles.”

There was another long moment of silence. Alice checked her phone to make sure Charles hadn’t hung up on her. She wouldn’t exactly blame him. He was handsome, rich, and famous around the world. She was nobody, yet was demanding precious time from him. But even if he said no now, Alice couldn’t give up. Seeing Charles again was too important.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said suddenly.

“Gr-great,” she stammered, shocked that he’d agreed. The fingers holding the phone trembled with both nerves and exhilaration. “We could meet in Zilker Park. Are you familiar with it?”

“I am.”

“There’s a bench under a big oak tree near the entrance of the Zilker Botanical Garden. How about ten o’clock?”

“Very good. I’ll see you in the morning, Alice.”

The way he spoke her name made sparks zing low in her belly. His accent made every word sound like a caress. She shook her head, needing to keep her wits about her. As good a time as she’d had with Charles, she hadn’t contacted him for her sake. “Goodbye, Charles. Thank you.”

As the call ended, she pulled the phone away from her head, her hand trembling as she stared at it. “I did it,” she whispered, glancing at the baby sleeping in the swing in the corner of the room. Her son, Flynn, was a champion napper at four months, which was one of the few things that had made being a single mom a tiny bit easier for Alice.

“Come here and tell me everything.” She turned to see her best friend, Meredith Doan, gesturing wildly from the galley kitchen in Alice’s two-bedroom apartment. Meredith was the only person who knew about Charles, and Alice had confided in her friend only recently, needing an ally to bolster her confidence.

“It went well,” Alice said quietly as she stepped into the small space. “We’re meeting tomorrow morning.”

“You look like you need this,” Meredith said, handing Alice a glass of white wine. “Your face is beet red. Charles remembered you?”

“Yes, after a moment.” Alice took a deep breath, her first since dialing Charles’s number.

“Tell me again how you ended up having an affair with Bonnie Lord Charlie.”

“It wasn’t exactly an affair,” Alice answered, taking a fortifying sip of wine. “It was one night. We met at the annual Texas tourism conference last spring. There was an international focus, so the board invited representatives from several European countries to attend. Charles has ties in Texas now through the Fortunes, so he came from Britain.”

Meredith wiggled her eyebrows. “And you snagged yourself a royal? Nice work, Meyers. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I didn’t,” Alice said quickly. “I don’t. It wasn’t like that, Meredith. It was special.”

“They all are, sweetie.”

Alice knew she would have a difficult time convincing her friend. She’d met Meredith her first day working at the Texas Tourism Board, and they’d struck up an unlikely friendship. Meredith worked in the marketing department and was as outgoing off the clock as she was on the job. Since Alice had known her, Meredith had dated a number of guys and even had a few random hookups. Alice, on the other hand, had no one.

Until Charles.

When they’d met at an industry reception the last night of the conference, Alice had expected him to look right past her. Almost everyone did, so she was used to it. There’d been a flurry of Texas women vying for his attention, flirting like they did it for a living. Alice had barely been able to make eye contact when she and Charles had been introduced. He was so handsome, several inches taller than her own five foot nine. His dark hair was expensively cut but perpetually tousled from his habit of running his fingers through it. His brilliant blue eyes seemed to see right into her soul.

It had been a silly thought, and she’d spent the rest of the party watching him laugh and joke with the crowd that constantly surrounded him. He was like a fun magnet and almost exactly her opposite in every way. As the dancing started midway through the evening, with conference attendees from all different countries and backgrounds letting loose in the hotel bar, Alice had been ready to leave. Before she could, Charles had slipped into the booth next to her. He’d told her he’d been watching her all night, waiting for a moment alone with her.

It had been difficult to believe, but he’d stayed at her side the rest of the evening. They’d talked about everything and nothing, and to her surprise, Charles had seemed as happy to escape the noise and bustle of the crowd as Alice. So when he’d invited her up to his room...

“What happened to the condom?” Meredith said, pointing a finger at her. “Your first time out of the gate and you don’t use protection? I thought I’d taught you better.”

“We did use protection,” Alice protested weakly. “I got pregnant anyway. They aren’t one hundred percent effective. And I guess saving the condom for a couple years wasn’t such a great idea, after all.”