Romancing The Crown: Lorenzo and Anna: The Man Who Would Be King / The Princess And The Mercenary. Marilyn Pappano
cheeks as she realized where her thoughts had wandered. What in the world was wrong with her? Less than twenty-four hours ago, she’d wanted to shake the king for forcing her to work with the man, and now she found herself flattered that he’d opened the door for her? She had to be losing her mind.
Thankfully, she didn’t have time to dwell on that. They reached the diner in a matter of moments, and once again, Lorenzo was opening a door for her, only this time, it was to the diner. “A table for two,” he told the hostess who greeted them with a smile. “Non-smoking.”
“This way,” the woman said, only to glance at him again and frown. “Hey, don’t I know you? You look awfully familiar.”
At his side, Eliza felt him stiffen ever so slightly, but his smile was easy when he said, “Sorry, but I’ve never been here before. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“Oh. Sorry. It’s just that I’d swear I’ve seen you before,” she said. Then it hit her. “Oh, my God, you’re that duke, the one who’s looking for Prince Lucas! I saw your picture in the paper this morning.”
Beaming, she said, “Oh, this is wonderful! I was telling my husband, Fred, not even an hour ago, that I bet someone kidnapped the prince and is hiding him out at Elk Canyon. It’s a box canyon and you’ve really got to know where you’re going or you’ll lose all sense of direction.
“I could take you up there,” she offered eagerly, her eyes shining at the sudden thought. “Of course, I’d have to take off from work, and I don’t have any leave, so I’d need some kind of compensation, but we could work that out. I wouldn’t be unreasonable or anything. I just want to help find the prince.’ Cause it’s the right thing to do, ya know.”
“I appreciate that,” Lorenzo said with the inbred politeness that royalty always seemed to possess when it came to dealing with the public, “but I have some other leads to run down at the moment. If those don’t pan out, I’ll get back with you. Do you normally work the morning shift?”
With that simple enquiry, he dazzled her right out of her shoes. “Every morning,” she said, beaming. “Oh, wow! Wait’ll I tell Fred! He’s going to drop his teeth!”
“I’m sure he will,” Lorenzo said dryly. “Now…if we could have a table? We’re really in a hurry.”
“Oh, my gosh, what an idiot I am! I’m so sorry, Your Highness. Right this way.”
Grabbing a couple of menus, she rushed them over to a booth next to the window, apologizing all the while and promising Lorenzo that he was going to have the best breakfast he’d ever eaten. “Your waitress will be right with you. Just ask for the special, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
Gracious, Lorenzo thanked her, his smile never wavering, but Eliza was starting to recognize that particular look on his face. He already had regrets, and she didn’t doubt that if he had it all to do over again, he would have gone through a McDonald’s drive-thru. As it was, just about everyone in the place was shooting him covert glances and whispering among themselves, and it was obvious that they, too, had seen the morning paper.
Coming to the same conclusion, Lorenzo swore softly, his expression grim. “I was afraid of this. It’s that damn picture! How the hell am I going to conduct a search when the whole world is watching and offering their opinion?”
He didn’t, thankfully, blame her, but Eliza wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. If it hadn’t been for her and her overzealous boss, he could have been well into the search and might have even found the prince before anyone knew what he was about.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly as soon as they’d given their order to the blushing young woman who rushed forward to wait on them and deliver two steaming cups of coffee to their table. “The damage is done. It won’t do any good to retract the story—people have already seen your picture. They’re going to recognize you unless you grow a beard or something. Of course, that takes time. It won’t do you any good now.”
In the process of stirring cream into his coffee, he glanced up sharply. “What did you say?”
Surprised, she blinked. “About what? The beard? It’s not going to do you any good today.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully, “but a disguise isn’t a bad idea. I’ll change my clothes, put on some sunglasses, even wear a hat. How do you think I’d look with a cowboy hat? I could get some jeans and boots and pass myself off as a cowboy.”
If he hadn’t been so serious, Eliza would have laughed at the very suggestion that Duke Lorenzo Sebastiani pass himself off as a cowboy. He looked and dressed like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ. She didn’t care what he wore, it wasn’t going to change the sophistication that was as much a part of him as the green of his eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “Cowboys are a pretty rugged lot. It’s more than just the clothes.”
“Are you saying I’m not rugged?”
Put on the spot, she said, “No!” But then she immediately changed her mind. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You’re a duke, for heaven’s sake! Dukes and cowboys are as different as day and night.”
Lorenzo appreciated her honesty, but his title had been granted to him by the king in appreciation of his military service for Montebello. Just because he’d been raised by Marcus and Gwendolyn after his parents died and the palace had become his home didn’t mean he was some kind of pampered royal who was afraid to get his hands dirty. He hadn’t received any special treatment when he was in the military; he’d carried his own weight.
“We’ll see,” he said as the waitress arrived with a breakfast fit for a king. “You just might be surprised.”
She had her doubts and she didn’t make any effort to hide them, but Lorenzo wasn’t worried. Digging into the ham and eggs and hashbrowns he’d ordered, he could already see himself dressed as a cowboy. A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mission was a serious one, but he had to admit, this was going to be fun.
“The mall is the other direction,” Eliza told him thirty minutes later when he pulled out of the diner parking lot and turned left. “I thought you wanted to get some western clothes.”
“I do,” he said. But instead of turning around, he drove slowly down the street, reading the signs of every business they passed. “Here we go,” he said suddenly, grinning as he turned into the parking lot of a used-clothing store.
Eliza took one look at it and said, “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” he teased, and got out to open her car door for her.
The shop was everything he’d hoped it would be. Crowded and musty, it was packed full of everything from used Levi’s jeans to old prom dresses from the fifties. And somewhere in all those old castoffs was his disguise.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Eliza said when he moved to a rack of used jeans and started going through them. “I thought you’d buy something new.”
“And look like a drugstore cowboy? I don’t think so. I want to look like the average John Wayne on the street, and I can’t do that in new clothes.” Glancing up from the jeans he was checking out, he arched a brow when he saw her smile. “What’s so funny?”
“There was nothing average about John Wayne. That’s why he was John Wayne.”
He couldn’t disagree with that. “Okay, poor choice. Let’s try for a hired hand who doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. That means I need worn jeans and faded shirts that are frayed at the cuffs.”
“And something to drive around in besides a brand-new Tahoe SUV,” she pointed out dryly. “It doesn’t fit the image.”
“Good point,” he replied. “We’ll take care of that later. Right now, let’s work