Duets™

Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

Duets Vol. #85

Talented Jill Shalvis first launched the RED-HOT ROYALS miniseries in Temptation with #861 A Prince of a Guy. The romantic regal romp continues this month with a very special Double Duets featuring A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember. Jill is “fast, fanciful and funny. Get ready for laughs, passion and toe-curling romance,” says Rendezvous.

Duets Vol. #86

Two talented writers make their Duets debut this month—with a splash. Samantha Connolly, who hails from Ireland, was an avid reader before trying her hand at writing, with great results in If the Shoe Fits. Dorien Kelly is still walking on air after selling her first book, Designs on Jake, to Duets. She’s now hard at work on a second novel.

A welcome to this delightful duo!

Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

A Royal Mess
Her Knight to Remember
Jill Shalvis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

A Royal Mess

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Her Knight To Remember

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

A Royal Mess

With a screech, Natalia whirled around from the counter.

“Tim! You just took five years off my life.” She put a hand on her chest.

“What are you doing?” He pushed away from the wall, a hesitant look on his face.

“Cooking.” She took in his expression and narrowed her eyes. “And you know what? Believe it or not, some people think I’m quite good at it.”

He tried to remain casual, tried to think of an answer, but at that moment her tongue darted out and licked a spot of chocolate off her lips. His body leapt to attention, and he stared at her, hoping she’d do it again.

She poured the chocolate batter from the bowl into the blender, then put the lid on. She slammed down a button that started the blender whirring, clearly not impressed with him. “I wanted this to be a surprise. Now go away.”

“But I—”

Which was all he got out before the top of the blender blew off, spraying the contents across the room. And covering Natalia in rich, thick chocolate.

Looked as if he was getting dessert a little early.

Dear Reader,

How many of you have dreamed about wearing a tiara? Admit it, we all wanted to be princesses, to marry a prince and never have to clean again.

In A Royal Mess and Her Knight To Remember, my princesses find out what it’s like to live in the real world. Not quite the piece of cake they had imagined. In the real world people don’t rush to fulfill their needs. Men don’t fall at their feet.

And in the real world, love can blindside. Which is exactly what happens to Natalia and Annie, with two of the most rough-and-tumble, most rugged, most gorgeous men they’ve ever seen.

I had so much fun torturing my princesses with real men. I hope you enjoy their stories.

Happy reading!

Jill Shalvis

P.S.—I love to hear from readers! You can reach me at P.O. Box 3945, Truckee, CA 96160-3945.

Books by Jill Shalvis

HARLEQUIN DUETS

28—NEW AND…IMPROVED?

42—KISS ME, KATIE!

HUG ME, HOLLY!

57—BLIND DATE DISASTERS

EAT YOUR HEART OUT

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

742—WHO’S THE BOSS?

771—THE BACHELOR’S BED

804—OUT OF THE BLUE

822—CHANCE ENCOUNTER

845—AFTERSHOCK

861—A PRINCE OF A GUY

878—HER PERFECT STRANGER

885—FOR THE LOVE OF NICK

SILHOUETTE INTIMATE MOMENTS

887—HIDING OUT AT THE CIRCLE C

905—LONG-LOST MOM

941—THE RANCHER’S SURRENDER

1019—THE DETECTIVE’S UNDOING

To the real princesses in my life: Kelsey, Megan and Courtney

1

TIMOTHY BANNING needed a vacation from his New York vacation. That wasn’t going to happen, and he could brood all he wanted once he got back to his Texas ranch, but for now he had to at least get there.

The airport was mobbed. A typical Sunday afternoon. He braced himself for an overbooked, underfed flight. At least he’d gotten a boarding pass, which was more than he could say for the angry crowd currently huddled by the check-in counter.

Grateful to be anyone other than the lone, harassed airline employee trying to soothe too many tempers at once, he got in line to board the plane.

He was exhausted, more mentally than anything else, but visiting his so-called retired grandma did that to him. She was unstoppable—shows, shopping, talking. Nothing a good nap wouldn’t cure.

Oh, and note to self: next time Grandma says hang gliding over Central Park, she’s not kidding. Tim stretched his sore neck and winced. She’d nearly killed him this time.

And still, she’d refused to consider coming back with him to Texas. Refused to even talk about his taking care of her in her golden years.

In front of him was a little girl—maybe five years old—in her mother’s arms. She had serious bed head and wore a sundress that said I am Adorable. Wide-eyed, she stared at Tim, loudly sucking and slurping on a bright blue lollipop.

As adorable as she might be, he nonetheless hoped to God she didn’t sit near him on the plane.

With an audible smacking sound, she pulled the lollipop out of her mouth and smiled, her teeth and tongue a distinctive shade of blue. Drool dripped down her mother’s neck. “Tish, careful.” Her mother shifted the girl’s weight to her other arm. “Keep that in your mouth, now.”

Yeah, Tish, keep that in your mouth.

Tish finally stuffed the lollipop back into her mouth and eyeballed Tim’s hat. “You a cowboy?”

Tipping back the Stetson with a finger, he nodded. “Yep.”

“You gots a horse?”

“Yep.”

“Does she like sugar?”

“About as much as I’d guess you do.”

Tish grinned and sucked on her lollipop some more.

The line to get onto the plane hadn’t moved. In fact, the crowd pressed in slightly, shifting him closer to Tish and her sticky, blue lollipop.

Chaos continued to reign around him; loud passengers, the crackling of the intercoms, the weary voices of the airline employees and the smell of plane.

Quite different from his usual setting of gently rolling hills and the call of cattle.

“Excuse me.” A supremely irritated female voice rung out behind him. “I want on this flight.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder and did a double take. The leather-wearing, silver-studded, spiked-hair juvenile delinquent did not match the cultured, demanding voice. Tim spared a moment to feel sorry for the poor attendant facing this newest customer, then gripping his boarding ticket with gratitude, shuffled forward in line with the rest of the lucky ones around him.

“Ma’am,” the ticket clerk said. “This flight is overbooked.”

“What?”

“We’ve oversold the flight,” the ticket clerk said calmly. “Now we can—”

“I don’t care if you oversold the entire state of New York!” She sure didn’t sound like a teenager. “I’m holding a ticket that entitles me to a first-class seat. Now find my boarding pass.”

Tim shook his head at the queen-to-peasant tone. His line was moving now, even if only at the pace of a snail. Only three people left ahead of him, and in a moment he’d be on the plane, snoozing.

Then, finally there was just Tish and her lollipop extraordinaire. Soon he’d be prone, eyes closed, lost in dreamland. Tim stepped on board, and smiled at the pretty redheaded flight attendant when she moved in front of him to serve a drink to someone already seated in first class.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly, once again squeezing her hot little bod in front of his to get back to her station.

Suddenly catching some Z’s took a back seat to his second-favorite hobby.

Women.

But unfortunately for him, it was just a spectator hobby, as most women didn’t find his demanding, outdoor lifestyle on the ranch conducive to a long-term relationship. No one wanted to take a back seat to a sick horse or a herd of cattle.

The line wasn’t moving again, this time thwarted by the crowd of people in front of him fighting for overhead compartment space.

The pretty flight attendant tipped her head up at him, a sweet smile on her lips. “I’m Fran.”

“Hi, Fran.”

“We’re swamped today.” Her eyes were hot as they ate him up.

“I’m just glad to be boarding,” he said, enough of a red-blooded male to enjoy her frank appreciation of his body—a body that was so tired he was practically weaving in the aisle. Give him his dawn-to-dusk job of running a ranch over sight-seeing and grandma rustling any day. But finally he could move, and with a last smile for Fran, he found his seat.

He could still hear the furious demands of the passengers not as lucky as he ringing in his ears—the ones who hadn’t checked in the requisite hour ahead of time, the ones foiled by both heavy spring storms and an airline that had sold more seats than they had available.

Not his problem. With a wide yawn, he tipped his hat over his eyes, and attempted to stretch his long legs—which resulted in two bruised knees. But he’d long ago learned to sleep anywhere, anytime, and today was no exception. As he drifted off to the tune of a flight attendant’s pleas to stow any additional items beneath the seats, he sent out one last, no doubt useless hope that the two seats beside him would remain empty.

It was not going to happen on an overbooked flight, so he adjusted that thought to…may whoever land here please be small and quiet. Very quiet.

Slowly he drifted off, only to be jerked awake when someone behind him kicked his seat. Opening his eyes and craning his neck, Tim encountered a set of green eyes and a blue, drooling, grinning mouth.

“Hi, Cowboy!” Tish the lollipop queen grinned and waved, popping her mother in the nose.

With an inward groan, Tim waved and turned back, closing his eyes again, this time dozing off to a rousing rendition of “Old MacDonald’s Farm.”

THE NEXT TIME Tim was rudely awoken, he expected that it was Tish again, and he feigned sleep in the hope she’d ignore him.

It wasn’t Tish.

From beneath his hat he caught a glimpse of long, toned legs sporting black combat boots as the passenger plopped huffily into the seat next to him.

“Unfriggingbelievable,” muttered the jailbait juvenile delinquent from the check-in counter. She’d gotten a seat after all, and as luck would have it, right beside him.

“The seats back here are too close together.” She wriggled back and forth in an apparent attempt to make him as miserable as she was. It worked.

Her black leather mini hitched a little higher, and Tim wondered how her mother could have let her out of the house dressed like that. Could be worse, he told himself, closing his eyes once again. Could be someone who wanted to gab the entire flight—

“No one’s going to believe this.” She popped her gum so loud his ears nearly exploded. “Flying coach. Ha! I’m packed in here like a sardine.”

Ah, hell. She was someone who was going to gab the entire flight.

“How is one supposed to stretch—Ouch!” She rubbed her leg, and because they were too close together, the backs of her fingers slid against his legs as well. “This should be illegal sitting like this. I should file a complaint.”

He wasn’t going to look at her. No sirree, not going to even peek. Pressing his hat to his face, he slid farther into his seat, practically jamming his knees to his chin.

“It’s astounding, really,” she said over his groan of pain. “The luck I’ve had today.”

Who was she talking to in that voice that seemed almost…British? He risked a sideways glance from beneath his hat. Was she talking to him or the rather large woman who sat at the end of their row? Since that woman wasn’t responding and he was faking sleep, there was only one conclusion.

She was talking to herself, which meant she wasn’t just a talker, she was a crazy talker.

“I bet American royalty doesn’t have this problem,” she said. “I mean, really, when was the last time a Kennedy had to sit coach?”

Tim managed to slink a little more in the seat without further mangling his knees. He kept his eyes firmly closed.

“And how could I have gotten bumped from first class? Who do they have up there, Prince William? It’s such an insult.” She must have tipped to the side, trying to get comfortable again, because Tim felt her hair brush his arm. With it came an exotic, almost irresistible scent. Flowers and woman.

Normally he’d love that—both the sensation and the scent—but he drew the line at far-too-young, crazy women.

The plane started to move. Good. People didn’t like to talk during takeoff. At least, he didn’t. It was the ultimate sleeping time.

She didn’t speak for fifteen whole seconds. His hopes rose.

“Oh, dear.” Her voice wobbled, suddenly not sounding confident at all. “You’d think with how many times I’ve done this, I’d be better at takeoff.”

He felt her arm slide against his as she gripped the armrest between them. Soft, smooth skin. Warm to the touch.

Don’t open your eyes, Banning.

“Did you hear that sputter in the engine?” she wondered, nudging him. “Excuse me, I’m sorry to disturb you, but was that a sputter, do you think?”

Maybe a different man could have ignored that note of sharp fear in her voice, but he’d never been able to turn from someone who was afraid. Opening his eyes, he craned his neck her way. “Just normal take-off noises,” he assured her.

She stopped chewing her gum and bit her lip, hands still clenched on the armrests at her sides, which meant in the small confines they shared, her elbow was plowing into his ribs.

“Really,” he added, a little startled at the depth of her dark gold eyes. She had dark gold hair to match, even if it was spiked straight up, showing off ears that were pierced all the way up the outside. “We’re going to be fine,” he added, wanting to clear that up before his nap in order to avoid another interruption.

She nodded. Her eyes were lined in heavy black, with blue eye shadow, which matched the blue lip gloss she was nibbling off with her nerves.

In front of them, Fran the flight attendant whisked closed the curtain between first class and coach, but not before she sent Tim a saucy little wink.

Next to him, his copassenger sat up straight and pointed. “Did you see that? They were being served lunch up there! That’s my lunch! Yoo-hoo! Hello?”

Fran didn’t reappear.

Smart Fran.

“Well.” She sat back, looking genuinely surprised at being ignored. “Honestly. I’m starving back here and they’re eating.” She huffed over that a moment, then raised her voice. “I’m a starving princess, you know!”

Fran poked her head out. “Please. I’m going to have to insist you keep it down.”

“But—”

“You can have me beheaded as soon as we land if you’d like, but for now, I’m the queen.”

The curtain closed with finality.

“I really am starving,” Princess-In-Leather said to Tim, somewhat subdued now.

“I’m sorry.”

She stared at him. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Let me guess. A starving princess?”

“Yes!” She seemed pleased, until she realized he was humoring her. “Well, this is different, not being recognized.” But she laughed and shook her head while putting on a set of headphones.

Crazy, thought Tim.

From behind them, Tish popped her head between them. “Hi!”

Princess-In-Leather smiled and removed her earphones. Loud, obnoxious noise pumped out of it. “Hi back,” she said to the little girl.

“I’m this many.” Tish leaned over the back of the seat, smacking Tim in the head when she held up five sticky fingers.

The princess nodded. “I’m that many times four plus four.”

Tim did a double take. “You’re twenty-four?”

She blinked overly made-up gold eyes at him. “How old did you think I was?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve, huh?” She took off her leather jacket, revealing a little black crop top that told him she indeed was far older than twelve.

She laughed at his expression. Tish laughed, too, and dropped her lollipop. In Tim’s lap.

Tim removed it before Tish could and mentally tossed his nap right out the window.

“Tish, sit down,” her mother called.

Yes, Tish, sit down. He stared at his companion. She smiled. He did not. He’d liked it better when she was twelve.

A different flight attendant came through the aisle, tossing each passenger a pathetically small bag of peanuts.

His hungry companion wasn’t quite quick enough on the uptake and took hers in the face. She stared down at the bag of peanuts that landed in her lap. “I hate commercial flights.”

But at least she’d forgotten her fear. That left him in the clear. Hoping for a little sleep, Tim settled back, confident she’d be okay now.

And quiet.

Hopefully very quiet.

“I can’t sleep while flying,” she said, sounding a little dejected as she played with the bag of peanuts.

Crinkle. Crinkle. Crinkle.

With a sigh, he reached out and put his hand over hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered, entwining their fingers and holding his hand. Amazingly, she said nothing more.

And that’s how he ended up holding a crazy juvenile delinquent’s—no, not a delinquent at all, but a woman’s, a crazy woman’s—hand.

2

IN NATALIA’S WORLD, everyone knew she was a princess, no matter how much she tried to disguise it. And try to disguise it, she did. Mostly to avoid being compared to other recent and far more popular princesses. But there was a part of her that simply enjoyed shocking people. It was an unusual hobby, but it kept her amused.

Yet, here in the U.S., she was a no one, and the American expression “royally pissed” was taking on a new meaning.

Of course, according to Amelia Grundy—ex-nanny and current friend and companion to Natalia and her two sisters—a princess never lost her temper, not in public anyway.

She’d blown that rule several times today alone. She wouldn’t do it again. It was easier, and far more fun, to get a rise out of the gorgeous cowboy next to her.

Not exactly politically correct, but Princess Natalia Faye Wolfe Brunner of Grunberg wasn’t known for following the rules. Never had been. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her world, but more that she didn’t like having to conform. Not for anyone or anything, including her heritage. So she was different. It worked for her. Her family loved and adored her whether she wore silver and leather and blue makeup or played nice little princess, which she did once in a while to please them.

But today…ugh. She’d been traveling all day from Europe, and still, the utter lack of…politeness among the American people in airports shocked her. She hoped it was just the airports, otherwise this was going to be a very unpleasant visit indeed.

Hadn’t Amelia warned her of the good old U.S. of A., land of pop-up minimalls, Hollywood divas and Wild West cowboys?

If truth be told, Natalia had a secret passion for old westerns. Both her sisters felt she watched too many Clint Eastwood movies, and maybe she did, but they fascinated her. Logically, she knew modern American men didn’t wear hats and carry six-shooters, but it was a good visual, and she appreciated a good visual.

There was a real good visual sitting right next to her; all long, leanly muscled and wearing the requisite Stetson hat. And he was holding her hand. How sweet was that? She hadn’t imagined a cowboy could be sweet on top of being tough as nails—and she had no doubt that this man with his rugged looks and low, authoritative voice was tough as nails. She looked him over, thinking Hollywood had missed the mark by not using him in movies. “You don’t, by any chance, carry a six-shooter do you?”

He lifted his hat and stared at her. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, of course not.” Another thing princesses didn’t do in public…indulge. “I was just wondering. So do you? Carry a gun?”

He put his hat back over his face, which was a crying shame given how amazing his face was. Not pretty-boy amazing—she got enough of that at home—but amazing in the way the Marlboro man would look without a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. A tanned, lived-in face, so arresting she couldn’t look away, paired with a body that would make any woman drool.

“I left the six-shooter at home,” he said. “With my talking horse.” He yawned and stretched that tough, coiled body, bumping his knees on the seat in front of him. Swearing beneath his breath, he tried to fold himself back up, but oddly enough, he did it while leaving his large, warm hand in hers.

Not a woman easily touched, Natalia nearly melted. He wore a dark blue T-shirt. And denim. Let’s not forget the denim, which looked incredibly soft and perfectly worn. She’d bet all the earrings in her left ear that he hadn’t bought them that way, but had worn them in with years of work.

Contrary to what one might imagine a princess’s wardrobe to contain, she herself had several pairs of jeans, none of which were with her now, as she preferred stirring things up, and leather seemed to do that nicely.

It was a middle-child thing. When she’d been ten years old her mother had taken her to a “specialist” to find out why she had to be the center of attention all the time. All it had netted her mother was a big doctor’s bill, though Natalia could still fondly remember the cool candy he’d handed out after each session. Anyway, her mother had never discovered Natalia’s problem, but Natalia figured she knew. She loved attention.

Which was why she was here, alone. On her first solo trip sans attendants on her way to a royal friend’s wedding, where she planned on representing her family and making them proud. For once. But she hadn’t counted on good old-fashioned nerves.

She was sandwiched in between the once-again prone cowboy and a three-hundred-pound woman who’d fallen asleep with her mouth open. Her snores had gone from loud to off-the-sonic scale, even over and above Blink-182’s latest CD blaring out of her earphones.

At least the cowboy slept utterly silently, though he still proved quite the distraction because he had such a commanding presence she couldn’t seem to stop sneaking peeks at him.

But unfortunately, she’d sipped too many glasses of water and needed to visit the facilities. Badly. She looked at Ms. Snoring-Loud. Please, someone just shoot me dead if I ever fall asleep in public with my mouth open wide enough to catch flies. “Excuse me,” she whispered, gently nudging the large woman. “I need to get up.”

The woman jerked awake with a loud snort and glared at her. “I was sleeping.”

“I realize that. But I must use the facilities.”

“The facilities?”

Did they have no class in this country? Natalia pointed toward the front of the plane, past first class where she should have been seated.

“Oh, you mean the pot?” This was said loud enough for the people in the Republic of China to hear. “You have to pee. Well, my goodness, you should’ve just said so.” She cocked a brow. “Or isn’t a princess allowed to say the word pee?”

Oh, amusing. Wasn’t she amusing? “Can I please get out?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The woman heaved herself out of the seat and into the aisle. “Far be it for me to keep the princess waiting.”

Once Natalia was finally in the “pot,” she stared at her harried face in the mirror. Pale and sickly. She tried splashing her cheeks with water, but succeeded only in making her hair look like the Bride of Fran-kenstein. Very nice.

The cowboy stirred when she sat back down, and slowly tipped back his Stetson, prying one eye open. One green eye. One amazingly forest-green eye, which looked her over before closing again.

Unlike everyone else she’d ever met, he didn’t comment on the makeup, jewelry or clothing. “Are we there yet?” he asked.

“No.”

“Hmm.” He settled back in the seat, his long, built body far too big for it. His arm bumped hers off the armrest, and she stared at him, shocked he didn’t immediately fall all over himself and apologize as most people did when they accidentally touched her.

He didn’t even look at her!

Because he was obviously squished, and because she didn’t want to draw his attention again, she let it go. But even as rude as Americans were, she had to admit, they sure made their men quite magnificent.

“Are you watching me sleep?” he asked in a low, rather husky voice.

She jerked her gaze off him. “Of course not.”

“You’re watching.”

Not anymore. Not if her life depended on it. Refusing to so much as look out the window—heaven forbid he mistake that for her watching him—she eyed the woman next to her, who was once again snoring.

With a sigh, Natalia turned straight ahead and gave her best imitation of a royal at utter tranquility, even when the plane dipped unexpectedly. It was the hardest thing she’d ever done.

And a very small part of her wished the cowboy would give her his hand back.

WHAT SHE HADN’T REALIZED during that hideous plane ride was that things could get worse.

Far worse.

The plane landed on schedule. Natalia got off on schedule.

And that’s where, unfortunately, the worse part came in.

The flight attendants waved goodbye to everyone as they exited the plane, smiling and looking like parade commissioners. When Natalia got to the front, they all promptly stopped waving. On cue, they bowed and cried “farewell thy princess.”

Funny. Ever so funny.

She thought maybe her Clint Eastwood look-alike, standing behind her, laughed. The sound was low and rough, just like his voice, but when she whirled to glare at him, he was simply looking at her with those intense, see-all eyes of his. No smile at her expense on his mouth, but there was a very little hint of it in his gaze, she just knew it.

She stared at him for another long second, during which he patiently endured her scrutiny.

Then someone behind him nudged him forward, and he pressed against her back for a brief moment before widening his stance to better brace himself.

Her spine indelibly imprinted with the feel of his warm, hot body, Natalia rushed forward, in a desperate hurry to…

Get lost.

She had to find her next flight in this monstrous airport in…where was she? Oh, yes. Dallas. Dallas, Texas. Where all the women had huge hair and the men wore belt buckles larger than—

Well. No use going there.

Not when she had herself to feel so sorry for. She stuck out like a sore thumb and felt people staring every time she so much as moved, which of course made her thrust up her chin and give everyone hard stares back. Funny, but she’d never felt like an atrocity before. Distracted by that, she somehow ended up in Terminal C instead of Terminal B.

Uh-uh. No way was she going to miss her connection. Not when she had two perfectly good legs to get her there. She had her sights on first class this time, and she would accept no less. But with only a few minutes to spare before the flight, she was afraid she’d be told that ridiculous overbooked story again. To avoid that, she started running. Not easy in an overcrowded airport full of people and wearing heavy boots meant for looking good, not sprinting a marathon. Dodging left and right, she hustled on, her carry-on banging against her thighs with every step she took, her toes screaming against the steel front of her boots. But damn it, the boots looked good.

It took forever to make progress. Old people walking too slowly, kids in the way…. At this rate, by the time she got to the right gate, she’d be a very unprincesslike sweaty mess. She already felt so out of breath she had to stop, drop her purse and carry-on, and bend over to suck in some serious air.

This is it, she decided, gulping air like water. I need an exercise regime. Pronto.

But first she needed an oxygen mask.

“Hey, there. Move it.”

This from a uniformed man driving a golf cart. A golf cart! To save her lungs, she’d get on a damn skateboard. “Oh, thank God.” She stopped to gasp some more. “I need a ride to gate…” Huffing like a choo-choo train, she glanced down at her ticket, trying to figure it out.

“Sorry, no rides.”

“What?” She looked at the cart. It was huge. More than enough room. “What do you mean no rides? I just need to get to—”

“Nope.”

“I realize you don’t know who I am, but—”

“Look, I don’t care if you’re Santa Claus, I ain’t giving you a ride. I only take senior citizens.”

Then, unbelievably, he zipped away, leaving her standing there, hair slipping, arm ready to pop out of its socket from her carry-on, toes still screaming.

With no choice, she started running again, and got to her gate with a full two minutes to spare. Heaving herself to the counter, she held up a finger to the woman behind it, signaling she couldn’t possibly speak until she caught her breath.

The unsympathetic woman impatiently tapped her pen against the counter.

“I’m here…to check…in.” Natalia added a smile for good measure. A royal smile. A royal don’t-you-dare-turn-me-down smile.

“Ma’am, this flight has been canceled due to weather.”

Soon as she got home, she’d have to have her ears checked. “What?”

“Thunderstorms over New Mexico.”

“But that’s where I need to go.”

“Yes, you and two hundred others.”

Okay time to pull out the cell phone and hit auto-dial for home. Home sounded good. Home sounded great. Her father, her assistants, even Amelia—especially the know-it-all-see-it-all Amelia—would get her out of this mess. Amelia Grundy had been getting her out of messes all her life, and as always, that brought a sense of wonder. It was as if Amelia were a modern-day Mary Poppins the way she always instinctively knew when Natalia needed her. Natalia and her sisters had long ago just accepted strange things could and would happen when Amelia was involved. Magical things. Wondrous things. And, in the case of one sister or another causing mischief, terrible things.

Truth was, Natalia needed Amelia now, and Amelia probably already knew it. Chances were she wouldn’t even get an “I told you so” out of it.

Chances were.

But she would get that knowing tone, the one that would have the I-told-you-so all over it. No one, especially Amelia, who always knew when trouble was coming, had wanted Natalia to come here alone.

But all Natalia’s life she’d been sheltered and over-protected. All her life she’d chafed at the restrictions. Hence, being stranded in Dallas. “So what happens now?”

“Well…” The woman’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she decided Natalia’s fate. She had hair teased up like a Dolly Parton wig, and earrings as big as saucers hanging from her poor lobes. And they thought Natalia dressed strangely. “The next flight out is tomorrow,” she said.

Natalia stopped comparing hairstyles. “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Natalia resisted the urge to thunk her head on the counter and have a good cry. “What about my luggage?”

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to meet up with it at your final destination.”

“You’re kidding.”

The woman didn’t crack a smile, not even a sympathetic one.

“You’re not kidding.”

“Ma’am, kidding isn’t in my job description.”

Natalia shook her head. “This isn’t happening.”

“If you’d like, you can check the bus schedule. The shuttle to take you to the depot is outside the terminal.”

“Bus?”

“Bus.”

Bus.

WHICH WAS WHERE Natalia found herself forty-five minutes later. Sitting on a bench outside waiting for the shuttle bus in the soggy, muggy, disgusting heat, with clouds surging overhead, waiting.

For her bus.

There was no lunch service on a bus, she was fairly certain. She removed her leather jacket, setting it on her carry-on at her feet. No pretty but huffy flight attendants. No bags of peanuts.

But there was, she’d been told, a “pot.”

Goodie.

At any rate, it was the lack of food that got to her now.

Given how out of shape she was, she could probably stand to skip a meal or two. Since there was no one around—apparently everyone else had been smart enough to stay inside the airport and wait for a flight—she looked down at herself. Definitely, being on the plump side of average, she could stand to go without lunch.

But being on the plump side of average gave her good breasts, she reminded herself.

Not that breasts mattered when she was as chaperoned as she had been all her life.

You’re not chaperoned now.

At that thought, a good amount of her tension faded away. She even smiled to herself. She was alone, just as she always had wanted to be. And come hell or high water, she was going to make her family proud.

She was well aware of how wonderful her life was. But there was more to life than mugging for the press and charity parties.

And with all her heart, she wanted to experience some of it.

Hard to do with two sisters, bodyguards, an exnanny, an entire country and a protective father hovering over her night and day. But it was past time for her solo flight. An adventure. Okay, so the wedding of one of her mother’s oldest friend’s daughter in Taos, New Mexico, wasn’t exactly an adventure, but it would be a start, even though her older sister would also be attending. But as Andrea—being the oldest—had been asked to be in the wedding and would therefore be quite swamped with wedding stuff, Natalia had demurely suggested she meet her there.

Demurely, ha! She’d leaped at the chance.

Her father had agreed, reluctantly. Be careful he’d told her a million times. Call often.

Natalia had promised, in good humor because it would be worth the entire trip to see her older, tomboy sister in a dress. Just thinking about it now had her letting out a quick, sharp grin that she knew would make Annie pounce on her.

Thunder hit, and Natalia jumped, suddenly wishing Annie was here for a good diversion. Or even Lili—the baby of the family at twenty-three. But Lili was coming straight from another obligation, and was to meet them in Taos.

A breath later came a flash of lightning. Not good. She grabbed her phone, clutched it to her chest and stared up at the sky. It wouldn’t hurt to call home. Just to assure everyone that she was fine, of course, because they worried about her.

Another crack of thunder and lightning, and she dialed, hoping she wouldn’t be electrocuted before she heard a familiar voice.

A strict female voice answered. “Tell me everything, Natalia.”

Not her father, but Amelia, and nearly as good as her father, even if the woman had the strangest and most disconcerting ability to read her mind. “What if there’s nothing to tell?” Natalia asked, keeping a wary eye on the sky.

“Natalia, sweetness, you always have something to tell. Now spill it. You’re okay, of course. I’d know if you weren’t.”

Yes, she would. Amelia had that inexplicable way about her when it came to the princesses. When they’d been young, Natalia and her sisters had been convinced Amelia was a fairy godmother. Complete with fairy dust.

Sometimes Natalia was still convinced. Mostly, she had accepted and was just grateful. “I’m okay,” she agreed, looking around at the flattest landscape she’d ever seen. And in case Amelia had grandiose ideas of sending escorts, Natalia hurriedly added, “More than okay.” Another clap of thunder shook the ground beneath her feet. “P-p-perfect, in fact.”

“Hmm.” There was a long pregnant pause, in which, clearly, Amelia expected Natalia to spill her guts.

Tempting, but she managed to keep her mouth shut—barely.

“We’re here if you need us, Natalia.”

“You mean if I’ve screwed up.”

“‘Screw up’ is not a very princesslike term.” Amelia’s voice was diplomatic, and contained the hint of an indulgent smile. “But if you need anything, anything at all, I’m just a phone call away.”

Natalia knew that. Probably she wouldn’t even have to make that call, Amelia would just know. What a comfort that was. Her throat tightened just thinking about how much she was cared for. She cared for them in return, and making them proud was her biggest goal here. She could do this, she could do anything. After all, she was a princess. And maybe, just maybe, she would have a little adventure while she was at it.

“Natalia? This week you wanted all alone, it’s a long time for someone like you. There’s no shame in that.”

“You mean someone inexperienced in the real world.”

“If you need anything…” Amelia repeated calmly, refusing to be baited.

“I won’t. You understand this, Amelia, don’t you?” Natalia needed to hear her say it. More than she’d known.

“Yes, sweetness,” Amelia said, her voice softer now. “I understand. This is a way to prove yourself. You’ll do great. Just keep your head.”

“I can do that. See you soon.”

“See you soon, lovely.”

Natalia hugged the phone close to her heart, as if she could retain the warmth and love. And she could, if she closed her eyes and concentrated—

“Do you have the time?”

Natalia nearly leaped out of her skin at the voice. It was a young man, in his early twenties, looking like he’d skipped far more than just lunch. His face was gaunt, his head and hair—if he had any—were completely covered in a knit beanie despite the humidity. And his eyes…sparkled with malice.

Uh-oh. Her heart started a rapid tattoo. Why hadn’t she told Amelia where she was?

Because she could handle this, that’s why. And besides, as irrational as it sounded, Amelia probably already knew.

Much calmer than she felt, she said, “The time? Why, yes, I do…” Please, go away. She twisted her wrist to check. “It’s just after three—Hey!”

He snagged the carry-on, the jacket over it and the purse she still had on her shoulder.

And tugged.

“Oh, no you don’t. Those are—” She stopped shouting at him to get a better grip on her purse. “Mine.”

“Let go!” he growled, playing tug-of-war with her.

But her fear turned to temper. Clearly, he had no idea who he was messing with and how much she’d already faced in one day. It gave her an unbelievable strength. “I’m not letting go, you…you miscreant!”

“Hey, I’m robbing you here.”

“No you’re not!”

He looked so utterly surprised, she nearly laughed. And held on like a pit bull.

“You’re supposed to freak out,” he grated. “Cry. Scream. Not fight back! Jeez, haven’t you ever taken a self-defense class? They don’t advise you to fight back!”

“I’m not going to freak out, I’m going to fight, and then I’m going to turn you in! Now you let go!”

For what seemed like forever, they grappled with her bags, until, with a loud screech, Natalia lost the game and her grip. Freed, she promptly toppled backward over the bench, ass over kettle, landing incongruously in the dirt.

Meanwhile, her thief, who took the time to stop and grin triumphantly in her face, took off with her beloved carry-on, her purse and her bus ticket.

And her pride.

3

BY THE TIME Natalia—sputtering in a very unprincesslike manner—scrambled to her feet and jerked down her skirt, the young man was but a blur on the horizon. All she could do was watch in disbelief as he ran away, her bag banging against his thighs as it had banged against hers all day long.

She hoped it left one hell of a bruise.

“Idiot!” she yelled. “Moron! Jerk!” Sagging back to the bench, she wondered who she was calling names, the thief or herself.

A drop fell from the sky, hitting her on the nose. The storm that the airline had been threatening her with all day had finally arrived.

Another drop. Then another. The sky lit with a long jagged flash of lightning.

And Natalia stood there, stunned stupid by the events of the day. She was out in what felt like the middle of nowhere, with no identification, no money and even worse, no makeup, not even a brush. She should call on the credit cards, but then again, at this moment, even that seemed like too much effort.

Rain fell. Leather wet was a whole new, uncomfortable experience. Lightning flashed again, punctuating the disaster her life had become.

Perfect. Now she was going to get struck by a bolt and get amnesia. That would top things off nicely.

You’ll do great. Just keep your head.

At Amelia’s words, spoken in her wonderful British accent, Natalia whipped around, but of course, Amelia wasn’t standing there.

It was just that her voice had sounded so…real. But Natalia was alone, utterly alone. It must be the self-pity, she decided, causing her to hear things. Because surely, not even Amelia could be that…magical.

She should just call home with the cell phone still in her pocket. But that put a sour taste in her mouth because darn it, she wanted to do this.

Her hair was beginning to unspike, and her clothes were plastered to her like a second skin. She had no idea what should come next. Maybe a hero on a white steed. Wouldn’t that be handy.

A rumble sounded. Not a white steed, but a truck, rumbled up the street. It nearly passed her, until, with a quick brake, it came to an abrupt halt right in front of her.

Her heart leaped into her throat, but she reminded herself she had nothing left for someone to steal.

Except herself, came the dismal, unhelpful thought. Fear bloomed again, and she might have started running regardless of her combat boots, until the window rolled down and a man leaned across the seat. Beneath his hat, piercing green eyes landed right on her.

Her Clint Eastwood look-alike from the plane.

“Problem?” he asked in that slow, Southern drawl that somehow sent a warm shiver down her spine, when just a moment ago she’d been chilled from her fight with her thief.

“Problem?” she repeated as casually as she could, cocking a hip and trying to look like the badass princess she was known to be. “What makes you think I have a problem?”

“Because you’re standing out here in a downpour looking like a drowned rat.”

A drowned rat! “The bus hasn’t come yet.” But even if it did, her ticket was sitting all nice and cozy in her purse. The purse that was right this second gracing the neck of a thief. But she couldn’t tell this man that, not when her pride was sticking like crow in her throat.

He put his truck in Park and rested a forearm on his steering wheel. “So what’s a princess doing riding a bus?”

With her self-esteem at her feet, there was no way she could tell him.

“Ah, hell,” she thought she heard him mutter. And then he’d turned off his truck and got out in the rain, moving with the easy grace of a man who wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere other than where he happened to be.

Standing in front of her, he seemed bigger than he’d been on the airplane, bigger than life. He was over six feet, all broad shoulders, hard muscle and about zero body fat. Certainly bigger than any man she was used to standing so close to her, so she took a little step back. But she left her chin thrust high into the air, because she’d choke on all that pride before admitting defeat to anyone.

“Here.” He shrugged out of his jacket to set it on her shoulders. She didn’t know if his caring enough to want her warm helped or made it worse. “So what happened to your stuff?” he asked.

“It was just stolen. And before that, my second flight was canceled. Having a hell of a day here.”

He had a way of looking at people, of tilting his head back and gazing at her with deep green eyes that made her stomach flutter. “Are you hurt?”

I’m fine, she almost said. But she wasn’t. There was a strange, slow, unfurling in the pit of her belly, and it didn’t come from the horrid day or the rain or the theft. Or even from the way her makeup was starting to run down her face.

It came from his hands on her shoulders. From his easy grace and confidence.

“Princess?”

She gazed up at the man towering over her, at his unfathomable gaze and the lock of brown hair falling over his forehead. It was streaked with light gold from what she imagined were long days in the sun. On his horse. Being a cowboy. The unfurling in her belly ignited. “Do you really believe I’m a princess?” she whispered.

He frowned, then bent down a little to look into her eyes. “Maybe you hit your head? Is that it?”

He thought she was crazy. And she was.

Because he was a stranger, a one-hundred-percent-male stranger who made her want to drool, made her want to stand straighter with her breasts thrust out and check her makeup all at the same time. She felt as if she’d known him all her life even as she wanted to know him even better.

How stupid is that, Amelia?

TIM SCOOPED the woman’s tangled, soggy hair back from her forehead, frowning as he looked her creamy skin over for a bump. Somehow the black smudged eyeliner beneath her eyes made them look ever bigger. More vulnerable.

“I didn’t hit my head,” she said quite clearly, stepping back from his touch. “And I really am a princess. Your Serene Highness Natalia Faye Wolfe Brunner of Grunberg, to be exact.”

Stepping back, he scratched his jaw and studied her, but she didn’t crack a smile. “That’s a mouthful,” he said.

“Which is why I go by just Your Serene Highness Natalia Faye.”

“Still a mouthful.”

“My things have been stolen, or I’d show you identification.”

“Want to go to the police and make a report?”

She frowned. “No. The thief is long gone, and my family would just insist I come home. All I need is a ride to Taos, New Mexico. I’m going to a wedding.”

This was said in a hoity-toity voice, her chin thrust high in the sky and eyes flashing, as if he were her servant. So he stared at her for one more beat, then tossed his head back and laughed.

“I’m not finding the humor in this situation,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest.

Oh, boy. Nutcase alert. Despite her superior airs, he could tell she was cold, all covered in goose bumps. Suddenly she looked twelve to him again. Or she would if she didn’t have the most mouthwatering, curvy body he’d ever seen. Damn it, she was the prettiest nutcase he’d ever seen, and any bastard could come along and take advantage of her. Tim wasn’t into pretty nutcases himself, but he couldn’t just leave her here.

He wished he could. He had enough to deal with, but he knew this woman and her expressive eyes would haunt him tonight if he didn’t try to do something for her. “Look, you’re obviously a little down on your luck.”

“A little today, yeah.”

It made his gut clench. “So let me call someone for you—”

“No!”

“But—”

“No,” she said so firmly, he almost believed she could really be royalty. She ran a hand down her wet, clingy leather and thrust her shoulders back. “As I’ve said, I’m fine.”

Terrific. She was fine and he was…delayed. And yet he couldn’t just drive away. Maybe it was his save-the-wounded-bird heart. Hell, it was definitely his save-the-wounded-bird heart. “Where are you off to, then?”

“Nowhere at the moment.”

“I could take you with me to my ranch.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Why? Because he was an idiot. Because clearly he didn’t have enough to worry about with his grandmother refusing his help and his sister sleeping with his new ranch hand. “You’d…be safe there.”

“At your ranch.”

“Yes.” Where he already had a corral full of rescued animals he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of. Not that he’d put this woman in the corral, but the rescue efforts weren’t much different.

Which was exactly what his grandma had told him when he’d tried to convince her to come back with him this weekend.

You’re just trying to save me from old age, Timothy. But I like old age. And I like it here. Now I love you, but go home and save a cow or something.

He sighed. Instead of a cow, he supposed he’d rescue this drowned-looking woman. “So…is it a go?” He shielded his eyes from the now even heavier rain soaking them. “Are you coming with me?”

A gold eyebrow vanished into her hair as she regarded him with mistrust.

“Not for whatever you’re thinking,” he added quickly.

Another sharp jag of lightning lit the sky, with thunder too quick on its heel for comfort. “You can clean yourself up,” he said, wanting out of the damn rain. “Get some food and sleep. Then maybe…I don’t know…look for work.”

“Work,” she repeated, as if the idea had never occurred to her. “Hmm. Interesting. Do you have a job opening?”

“I’m hiring right now for a cook and a ranch hand.” To replace the ranch hand he planned on firing if he—Josh—was still boinking his baby sister.

Which reminded him to wonder if Sally was still mad at him. Actually, that particular worry was just a waste of time.

Knowing Sally, she was still mad.

Too bad. His parents had wanted him to take care of her, and loyally bound, he would, even if she’d be twenty this year. He would take care of her, or die trying.

Which was a far more likely result of his efforts.

Impatient to be home, he looked the woman over. She appeared to be in good health, other than her general inability to face reality. Her gold hair now clung to her face. Her leather had shrink-wrapped itself to her very curvy body. Not that he was noticing.

Much.

“A job,” she repeated, tapping her lower lip. “You know, that might work just fine.”

He tried to picture her in denim. “Ever been on a ranch?”

“Oh, of course.”

Of course.

“Once on holiday we stopped at a petting farm.”

He blinked, then shook his head. “How about cooking? Can you cook?”

She swiped at the water running into her face. “You mean, for other people?”

“No, for the queen of England.”

Her mouth tightened. “Now you’re making fun again. Why does everyone use poor Elizabeth as a joke?”

“Can you?”

“Cook? Of course.”

There was that “of course” again. Ah hell, she probably couldn’t cook. He tipped up his hat. “It’s raining pretty hard,” he said, hoping to rush things along a bit.

“I don’t have a change of clothing,” she said, brow furrowed. “I like to have lots of things with me.”

He pulled his wet shirt away from his body with a suction noise and winced as it slapped back against his skin. “I’m going to get back into my truck, princess. Down the road is a store. If you’d like, you can borrow some cash and make some purchases. But I doubt they have black leather.”

“I can try something new. I like new.”

“Yeah? Well, you might have a choice between blue denim and dark blue denim.”

“I know how to wear jeans.”

“Then let’s go.”

She cocked her head. “You are like the cowboys from the old West. Chivalrous. Kind.”

“No,” he said, backing up. “Anyone would do this.”

“You’re wrong. I think you’re special. Different.”

Different as insane. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Or on medication? “Or that there’s no one I can call for you?”

“Nope. I just wanted to do this one thing, travel by myself. It’s a first and I’ve bungled it horribly.” She scooped back fistfuls of her hair and it stuck straight up again. “I’ll earn my own money this time.”

She was going to come with him. He opened the passenger door, put his hand to the small of her back and touched bare skin. Not wanting to feel the odd shock of awareness, he gently nudged, not knowing whether he was unnerved or relieved that she climbed in.

“You’re not an ax murderer, right?” she asked.

Unnerved, he decided. Definitely, he was unnerved. “No.”

“I’ve never hitchhiked before.” She looked around inside his truck, probably searching for something obvious. Like body parts. “Contrary to what you must think of me, I don’t take this lightly.”

“You’re safe.”

“I bet that’s what all the bad guys say.”

“But I’m like Clint Eastwood, remember?”

She actually laughed. Laughed. A sweet, bubble of a laugh, that in return made him grin like an idiot.

She carefully settled in as if she was indeed a little princess, and hooked up her seat belt, dripping water everywhere. “You wouldn’t, by any chance, just take me to Taos?”

“Sorry, princess. Do you know how far away that is? I’ve got a ranch that needs my attention. I’ve been gone for a few days myself.” God only knew how his sister had fared in his absence. Forget Sally. How had everyone else fared? “But say the word, and I’ll call someone for you. Anyone, anywhere.”

“No, thank you. I’ll be your cook, at least for a few days.”

“Not just my cook,” he corrected. “But for all the ranch employees as well.”

She put a confident smile on her face he wasn’t sure was real or forced. “So…how many people is that?”

Forced, he decided. Great. “Depends on how many people quit while my sister was in charge,” he said grimly, and drove.

FOR SEVERAL YEARS Natalia had been having dreams. Dreams wondering what the real world was like. Dreams about being a woman first and a princess second.

She was quite certain Timothy Banning didn’t believe a word she’d said about herself or her heritage, but that was fine. She didn’t need him to believe.

In fact, his disbelief worked in her favor, because for the first time ever, her dream could come true, if only for a few days.

She could be a woman first.

And a princess a very distant second.

“How much farther is your ranch?” she asked, avidly soaking up the landscape. She appeared to be stranded in a desert of grass, grass and more grass. North-central Texas was, without a doubt, one of the flattest places she’d ever seen. So different from her home, which was nestled high in the mountains, between Austria and Switzerland, surrounded by incredible vistas and wild forests.

She thought she’d miss home, but this land was beautiful, too, in a stark sort of way. The terrain was broken up by a few trees here and there, pecan and oak, it appeared. Very different.

She liked it.

“About forty-five more miles.” They’d already made the requested stop at the store, and he’d been right. No leather. But she’d borrowed against her wages and on top of the jeans and T-shirts, had managed to find some interesting wild-apple-green lip gloss, so the whole thing hadn’t been a waste. Now her cowboy looked suddenly tense, as if he regretted taking her with him.

“I’m not crazy or dangerous or anything,” she said. “Just so you know. I wouldn’t hurt anyone on your ranch.”

That made him grin, and oh, my, it was a very appealing one. Slow and easy. Sure and sexy. His teeth were white and straight, except for a crooked eyetooth, which somehow made him look mischievous when he showed it. His face, lean and angular, looked tanned and rugged. He had laugh lines fanning out from his eyes, assuring her he shot that grin of his often. Then there was his body, all long and muscular, and she’d bet it wasn’t any sort of a gym-made body either, but one finely honed from hard physical labor.

And let’s not forget his hands, which were big and sure of themselves on the wheel, tanned and work roughened. Tough. Oddly enough, the most wicked thoughts ran through her head at the sight of those hands.

No doubt, Amelia Grundy would shake her finger and warn her about a man like this. And yet Amelia wasn’t around. For once it was just Natalia.

A woman first, princess second.

Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous but fun. She wondered if he knew how to use those long fingers on a woman, wondered if—

“You’re looking a little flushed there, princess.” He flicked her a glance. “You okay?”

“Of course.”

But she wasn’t okay. She was as crazy as he suspected if she was really daydreaming about this man. She didn’t know what she expected from her Clint Eastwood, she’d never taken the fantasy that far. But behind those green eyes and easy smile was an obvious intelligence that went beyond cow-wrangling abilities.

She sat and wondered about him for a good long while. Until he pulled off the highway onto a road with a sign that said Banning Ranch, 1898.

“Your family has been here a long time.” She liked that. In her life, traditions and family pride meant something. Apparently, it meant something to this man, too.

“Yeah, ever since my great-great-grandfather won the place in a card game over a century ago.”

She shot him a look of horror, which only made him laugh again. “The Wild, Wild West. The good old days.”

“Your great-great-grandfather should have been ashamed of himself.”

“And he might have been,” Tim agreed. “But since my great-great-grandmother’s father shot him a few years later for cheating on his only daughter, we’ll never know.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but he only smiled guilelessly, that slow, easy smile that tended to leave her feeling like jelly. “You have quite the colorful history.”

“I have the colorful history?” He laughed. “Hey, I’m not the princess.”

She had no idea if he was teasing. “I really am,” she said. “A princess.”

“Like I said. Colorful history.”

He still didn’t believe her, but that he had been so easy about it, so nonjudgmental…she could really fall for that alone.

As if she’d ever really fall for a cowboy.

Or he for a princess.

“Almost there,” he said, then nodded toward a ranch house at the end of the road. “That’s the main house.”

Home was a freshly painted two-story ranch house, with flowers in the flower beds and neat rows of trees lining the driveway. It was bigger than she had imagined, much bigger, and behind the house she could see several more buildings, corrals and a tower of hay.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as she stared.

“That I’m grateful I didn’t agree to clean for my bed and board.”

He laughed.

Natalia didn’t. She’d taken gourmet classes, foreign gourmet classes, to please herself, and as a result, she was pretty good at froufrou party food—when she kept the ingredients straight and didn’t mix up the measurements. But she’d never cooked regular food, and certainly not for a bunch of hardworking, rough and tough ranch hands.

She really should have thought of this sooner.

But as she’d been doing all her life, she sucked up the fear and put her badass-princess face on. She’d do this. And she’d do it right.

Hopefully.

4

NATALIA GOT OUT of the truck and looked around. She was used to people. Used to being the center of attention, sought out and acknowledged. It came with the whole princess thing. People loved royals.

But out here, with the vast sky and even vaster landscape, she wasn’t the center of attention. There were no crowds to wave to. No movie theaters, no tattoo parlor, no dry cleaners…nothing but space.

She felt as though she’d stepped foot on another planet.

Which brought her to another point. Tim had been nothing but sweet and compassionate, taking in what he seemed to think was a crazy woman, all to get her off the street.

What kind of man did that?

And what kind of woman let him? Was she simply acting on impulse—cruel impulse, in fact—wanting that time to herself at Tim’s expense?

Today was Sunday. The wedding wasn’t until next Saturday. She’d originally figured on an expensive Taos hotel, lots of room service and time alone to enjoy a good book and the pool.

But after today’s fiasco, something else had taken root. The need to do this, to prove herself, both to her family and herself. To be normal. A normal woman.

With all her heart she wanted that, and part of being a woman, she told herself, would certainly include taking care of the people she cared about.

Stupid as it may be, she cared about this man who’d stopped for a perfect stranger. She could help both him and herself.

And still make the wedding.

“Take until tomorrow to acclimate,” Tim said, coming to stand beside her. His arm brushed hers, a simple, uncalculated touch, yet her pulse kicked up a gear. She stood still to be sure, but yep, those were lust hormones racing through her veins faster than the speed of light. Bad, bad princess.

It was also bad how much she enjoyed following him during his tour, watching his very watchable behind and thighs in those jeans nearly worn through in the most interesting of places. He showed her the main house, the bunkhouse where some of his ranch hands lived, and pointed out the two barns; one filled with equipment, one filled with animals. He offered to show her inside those barns, but she hadn’t yet figured out how to mention one little detail she’d forgotten until now.

She was afraid of animals.

So she declined the tour of the barn.

“Why don’t you change out of your wet clothes, then relax until morning?” he suggested when she stood on his porch looking over the vast, open land.

It was quiet here, very quiet. Except for this little eventful trip, there hadn’t been many times in Natalia’s life when she felt as quiet. Alone.

Suddenly all her bravado and swagger deserted her, and she wished she knew this man better, because weak as it sounded, she would have liked to set her head on his very capable-looking shoulder. Let him shield her from the unknown. Curl into his body and be protected.

But she didn’t know him better, and she would do this by herself. “I’ll change,” she said. She’d purchased clothes during their stop at a general store. With his money. An advance, she’d told him. To be paid back. Now she had jeans and T-shirts, just like Tim.

Somehow she doubted she’d look as good in them as he did. “But I’ll start work now.”

“That’s not necessary, Natalia.”

“You’ll all need dinner, correct?”

“Well, yeah.” He looked right into her eyes, in a way few others did, completely uninhibited by who she was. “You sure about this?”

Sure? Ha! She hadn’t been sure of anything since she’d stepped on the plane a tough princess and had gotten off a regular, unsure woman. “Point me to the kitchen.”

He led her through the house, which was as open and spacious as the land around them. The wood floors were scarred but clean, the furniture oversized, just like everything else in Texas appeared to be, and surprisingly warm and inviting.

At home in Grunberg, there were rooms for guests, and rooms for children. Never the two shall meet.

Not so here. Everyone would be welcome in any room, as there were no precious antiques to destroy, or priceless paintings to breathe on. Here would be an incredible place for a kid to run free. Literally. “It’s beautiful,” she said, meaning it.

He laughed as he headed toward a set of white, double swinging doors. “You sound so surprised.” He stopped and turned so fast she nearly walked right into him. Heat radiated from his big body as he lifted his hands to her waist to steady her. She hadn’t closed his jacket. Beneath she still wore her wet leather skirt and top, which didn’t quite meet. As a result his fingers slid around her bare waist, his thumbs brushing her belly. “Do I look that uncivilized to you?” he asked.

He was teasing her again. She could see the smile tugging at his lips, but with his hands on her, she couldn’t react. Couldn’t even open her mouth to retort.

Then a stream of vulgarities erupted from the kitchen in a very furious, very female voice.

“Who is that?” Natalia asked, stepping back so that his hands fell to his sides.

“My sister.” Tim stared at the closed door with dread. “Please, don’t let her have set anything on fire or killed anyone,” he muttered, and with a weak smile to Natalia, he pressed through the swinging doors.

At the huge table sat a small group of rough-and-ready men, all of whom brightened considerably at the sight of Tim.

But at the refrigerator, wearing low-slung jeans, a tank top and scuffed boots, stood a woman, swearing at the rather sparse-looking shelves. “I am not going to face the grocery store,” she said. “No way, no how, not again. I don’t care how hungry you all are, you’ll make do with whatever is in here.” She picked up something moldy. “Well, f—”

“Sally,” Tim said quickly, with his hand low on Natalia’s spine as he guided her into the room.

“Hallelujah.” She whirled with a wide, anticipatory grin that perfectly matched her brother’s.

A grin that vanished at the sight of Natalia, who stood next to Tim in her wet leather covered by Tim’s jacket.

“Sally, meet—”

“Oh, great. Just great. I get in trouble for kissing Josh in the barn and you—”

“What?” asked a man from the table, where all the men had perked up.

“You were kissing Josh?” another asked.

“Wow.”

“Damn, you didn’t tell us that.”

Sally ignored all of them. “—and now you’re flaunting some new biker chick right under my nose. Nice, Tim. Real nice.”

Natalia’s jaw dropped. “I am not the…new biker chick.” Just the idea made her want to laugh. Made her want to stomp her foot in anger.

Made her wonder what it would be like to be Tim’s “new biker chick.”

“Well, then who are you?” Sally demanded.

“I’m trying to tell you who she is,” Tim said mildly, though there was a definite warning in his eyes for his sister. “Now try to behave. Natalia’s the temporary cook.”

“Uh-huh,” Sally said. “And I’m the queen of England.”

“My God, you people and the queen of England!” Natalia exclaimed, baffled. She instantly pitied Tim for having such a horrid sister, and decided to kiss Annie and Lili the moment she saw them next.

Tim laughed and shook his head. “Okay, let’s start over. Natalia, forget Sally, she’s just being bad-mannered and equally bad-tempered, which happens…oh, every few moments or so.”

“Anyone related to you would have the same problem,” Sally muttered.

Tim ignored her. “Natalia, these guys at the table—Ryan, Pete, Seth and Red—they’re my head guys.”

All four men smiled.

She smiled back.

Tim turned her toward the refrigerator, and the woman who was standing there scowling. “And this is my sister, Sally, who is going to try very hard to be kind and sweet. Sally, this is Natalia. The woman who’s going to relieve you in this very kitchen, so be nice.”

Sally eyeballed Natalia up and down.

Natalia eyeballed Sally up and down right back.

“Sally,” Tim warned.

“I’m always nice,” Sally said with a sniff, but she at least came forward and gave her brother a great big bear hug, resting her head on his shoulder as if she was very happy to see him.

“I’m always nice, too,” Natalia said, oddly touched by the obvious show of affection between siblings.

“Good. We’re all nice. No problem.” Tim pulled back and gave an extra long look to his sister. “So, I guess you’re still mad about Josh.”

“Gee, give the man a prize.”

“Where is he?”

“Outside eating. Like you said he had to.”

“Yeah, let’s hear more about Josh,” Seth said from the table. “Details.”

“In your dreams,” Sally said, then turned on Tim. “So if she’s only the cook, why do you have your hand on her?”

He did, it was still on Natalia’s back, lightly. He didn’t remove it. Instead, his thumb brushed her spine as his green, green eyes gazed down at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “I was protecting her from you.”

The men laughed heartily, while Sally sent them daggers with her eyes.

“If this is going to cause problems…” Natalia started. “I can—”

“No problems,” Tim said with another pass of his thumb, which in return, caused most of the thoughts to dance right out of Natalia’s head.

But she wasn’t some silly teenager, run by racy hormones. She wouldn’t get all flustered and tongue-tied over a sexy-as-hell cowboy whose jeans should be registered as an illegal weapon. “I don’t want to be the cause of any bad feelings.”

“Well, don’t leave on my account.” Sally smiled sweetly and held open the kitchen door. “Unless you feel you must. How about I call you a cab? You can take it to the nearest body-piercing saloon. In say, California.”

Tim reached out and shut the door.

But Natalia stepped forward. She spoke for herself, always, and had since the age of two. “I’m—”

“Staying,” Tim interrupted again.

He was going to have to stop doing that. Natalia frowned at him.

He frowned right back.

Sally frowned at the both of them. “No cook wears black leather and shows belly button,” she said suspiciously. “Not in Texas, anyway.”

“I’m not from Texas.”

“Hmm.” Sally crossed her arms, clearly stating with that one little rude “hmm” that if one wasn’t from Texas, one wasn’t worth her time. “I thought you were going to hire someone old and ugly,” she said to Tim.

Tim had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I said old and ugly when you wanted to hire Nick the Sleaze, remember?”

“Well I’d stay away from whoever you hired if you hadn’t told Josh that if he touched me again you’d cut off his—”

“Sally, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Yeah, well. It’s a short drive. Speaking of crazy, how’s Grandma?”

“Crazier than even you.”

Natalia watched this exchange between brother and sister with fascination. Not because she’d never fought with her siblings, because she had. A lot. Mostly with Annie just because Lili being the baby—quite literally sometimes—wasn’t as much fun to wrestle with. And she was a tattletale.

But Natalia could never in a million years have pictured cool, calm, collected cowboy Tim Banning acting like an obnoxious older brother.

“So, where is Grandma, Tim?” Sally asked with a false sweetness. “I’m sure with all your charm, you managed to kidnap her away from the life she loves, all in the name of family duty.”

“Ouch,” said Seth from the table with a wince.

“She didn’t come with me,” Tim admitted.

“Probably because she knows you’d ruin her life, too.”

Tim looked tense again.

Natalia, the middle child and therefore a peace-maker at heart, stepped forward and smiled. “How about I cook dinner?”

“Good plan.” Sally strutted across the kitchen and sat at the table with the men. “Though you should know, if you hurt my brother I’ll have to kick your butt. So…is your tongue pierced?”

Natalia blinked. Good Lord, Americans were certifiable. “Hurt your brother? Why would I do that?”

“Just a friendly little warning.”

“Friendly. Right.” Like Tim, Sally Banning was tall, lean and muscular and also sported a crooked eyetooth. Somehow it wasn’t nearly as attractive on Sally as it was on Tim, but Natalia had to admit that it was probably because Sally was looking at her as if she was a bug on her windshield.

Natalia had felt like that a lot today, and she was getting mighty tired of it. She opened her mouth to say so, but Tim neatly cut her off.

“Sally, do you have an extra coat you can spare?”

Sally’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to her coat?”

“It was stolen,” Natalia said. “I’m visiting the States for a royal friend’s wedding.”

Sally lifted a single brow. “Royal friend?”

“I’m a princess.”

Sally lifted the other brow now and looked at Tim. “What have you done?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said lightly. “Everything still in working order around here?”

“She won’t fit in the stockade with the others.”

“Others?” Natalia asked.

“My brother collects the weak, the weary. The pathetic.”

A funny feeling started in the pit of Natalia’s stomach. She didn’t want to be someone Tim felt sorry for, and it was a tribute to her own privileged upbringing that it hadn’t occurred to her until now that he might see her like that. In a way she didn’t fully understand, she wanted to be someone he liked and respected.

But who in their right mind would like and respect a pampered princess who’d never lifted a hand to help herself in her entire life?

Good question, and right then and there Natalia became even more determined to become her own woman, successful in her own right, not her birthright. “I’m not weak or weary.” She’d leave pathetic out of this.

Sally gestured to the kitchen window. “See that stockade out there? The one filled with the three-legged pig, the ancient horse and the blind goat?”

“Um…yes.”

“That’s Tim for you. He collects the needy.”

And the pathetic.

Natalia got the message loud and clear. She’d just been added to the save-the-world stockade.

TIM CALLED a friend of his, who happened to be a cop. No one matching Natalia’s description had been reported missing. Tim didn’t have him run a criminal check, that would have been wrong. But at least his beautiful crazy cook hadn’t walked out of a halfway house or insane asylum. Good. He didn’t have to feel bad about letting her stay.

Now he had to face what he did have to feel bad about, the fact that he wanted her to stay more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.

DINNER WAS something so fancy Tim couldn’t pronounce the name of it. Since Natalia looked so utterly pleased with herself, Tim tried to like it. So did everyone else.

But the moment she turned her back, they stared at each other in horror.

“What is it?” Red mouthed.

Sally shrugged and fed it to Grumpster, Tim’s thirteen-year-old mutt lying hopefully beneath the table. Everyone else quickly followed suit.

Grumpster, who routinely licked his own parts for hours on end, sniffed once and turned his head away.

Which left everyone scrambling to stuff their napkins with the rest, making it appear as if they’d eaten.

Tim wondered at all of them—including himself—at the length they went to not to hurt Natalia’s feelings.

When she saw their empty plates, she beamed with pride. Tim’s chest hurt just looking at her, and he smiled back through the pain. So did his men, while Sally rolled her eyes and looked disgusted.

“Goners,” she said sadly. “Complete goners.”

BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY was more of the same. They were served some wildly foreign-sounding thing that involved very little food and far too much sauce. But because Natalia had obviously tried so hard, and was waiting with bated breath at the side of the table, hands clasped, eyes hopeful, no one said a word.

They all just smiled at the woman now in denim and a T-shirt, hair still spiked, earrings still in, but face void of makeup except for green lip gloss. The moment she turned her back, they made gagging faces at each other.

They couldn’t even bribe Grumpster with the stuff because he’d refused to come inside with them for the first time ever. They were on their own.

AFTER BREAKFAST, Tim entered the barn and found Seth handing out chocolate bars from his personal stash. Five bucks apiece. Highway robbery, but Ryan, Pete and Red were all digging into their pockets for the cash.

Sally lifted her head from where she was taking care of her horse and shook her head in disgust. “Hey, here’s an idea. Tell her the cooking sucks.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Tim’s stomach growled with a gnawing hunger, and with a grimace, he pulled a ten from his pocket. “I’ll take two,” he said to Seth.

“Unbelievable.” Sally leveled her annoyed gaze on him. “Did she call her so-called royal family yet?”

“No,” he admitted.

“And do you know why?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I think it does. She hasn’t called home because she doesn’t have one.”

“I couldn’t leave her at the bus stop, Sally. And you know what? You couldn’t have, either.”

“This isn’t about me, but, yes, I could have.” Her eyes softened. “You can’t take care of everyone.”

Tim let out a sound of frustration and ripped into the chocolate. “Look, I know she cooks a little strangely.”

“She lied about knowing how to feed a large group.”

“She never claimed to know how to do that.”

Sally’s mouth dropped open. “You’re telling me you hired without asking? Damn, Tim.”

“She’s trying hard, and that counts. And anyway, she’s only going to be here a few days, just enough to earn her way to New Mexico.”

“So you’re really not going to tell her everything she touches in that kitchen turns to lead in our guts?” She sighed theatrically. “It’s going to be a long few days. Damn it, someone front me a five and hand over the chocolate.”

Tim waited until her first bite, then nudged her away from the others. “I need you to go to the grocery store today.” He spoke cautiously, because sure as the sun came up every morning, coaxing Sally into doing this was going to cost him.

“No way.”

“If you do, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” She cocked a hip and crossed her arms, shooting him the universal irritated-sister-to-idiot-brother look. “Let me date Josh?”

“Is that what you call what you were doing with him?” She just lifted that brow of hers, making him sigh. “Do you really like him?”

“I like how he fills out his jeans, and that’s all that matters right now.”

Tim cringed. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“Then don’t ask.”

“Please? Go fill up the refrigerator?”

“Because your new cook can’t be trusted with your truck?”

“Because she’s just learning the ropes, I don’t want to dump that chore on her right now.”

“But you have no problem dumping it on me.” She rolled her eyes, swore beneath her breath. “Fine. But I’m going out with Josh on Friday night.”

“What if he doesn’t ask?”

“Oh, he’ll ask.” She took another bite of her chocolate bar.

So did Tim. “You being smart?” he asked.

“I know how to have safe sex, if that’s what you’re asking. You made sure of that when you gave me the birds and bees talk, remember? I make him wear a party hat.”

Tim groaned.

“Would you rather I use the word condom? Or better yet, multipack?”

Tim shut his eyes and covered his ears, making Sally laugh as she dug into her chocolate.

For a long moment there was no sound in the barn except the rustling of paper as everyone continued to fill their empty bellies.

“I’ll make a store run,” Seth promised. “Tomorrow I’ll sell something more substantial.”

“Like Jelly Bellys?” Josh asked hopefully.

Seth laughed. “Maybe.”

Then the barn door opened.

With the sun pouring in, Tim couldn’t immediately see much, except a very memorable silhouette of a body in jeans and a T-shirt. A real woman’s body—lush breasts, curved hips, long legs. How had he ever mistaken her for a jailbait juvenile delinquent?

She stepped closer, eyes locked on their hands, and what they were eating. When it registered, she went still. “Well.”

There was a wealth of things in that well, with hurt leading the pack. Damn it. “Oh, this?” He looked at the chocolate in his hands. “It’s…a morning ritual.” He stepped on Sally’s foot as she was about to open her big, fat mouth. “Eating chocolate together before we head out for the day.” He nodded and smiled. “Yep, we do it every morning.”

Seth, Pete, Ryan and Red’s heads all bobbed up and down in collective agreement.

“Yessiree,” said Seth.

“Yeppers,” echoed Red and Ryan.

“Perfect dessert to your breakfast,” Red added.

Natalia visibly brightened, her smile becoming full. “Really?”

Tim’s gaze lowered to her lips, and allowed himself to imagine she tasted as good as she looked. “Really.” She looked so different today. She looked real. And he wanted, quite suddenly, to bury his face in the skin in the crook of her neck and inhale like a bloodhound.

“But,” she continued in a sweet, soft chastising voice, “you should have just said you were still hungry.” She smiled. “Never mind. I’ll cook more at lunch.”

“M-more?” Seth glanced in horror at Tim.

“Oh, yes.” She laughed and headed out. “Can’t have you going hungry!”

“Can’t have that,” Sally said through her teeth, and shot Tim a look to kill.

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