Love and Lies at The Village Christmas Shop. Portia MacIntosh

and chasing women. “Have you ever seen how much misery a horse can be in when they colic? You would have been walkin’ her all night and half the morning, too, if it would have saved her.”

      “Colic? Like with babies?”

      “Yeah, except it’s more serious with horses. They get down on the ground, first throw their head toward their bellies, then begin to roll ’cause they’re in such pain. They can get their guts all twisted and they’ll die. It’s not a pretty sight, I’ll tell you that.”

      He exited the freeway and pulled the truck to a stop at the light, which gave him a chance to take a nice, long look at his passenger.

      “No, I don’t imagine it would be,” she said with a little shudder. “I take it your horse is better this morning?”

      “She’s fine. I dosed her until she was all cleaned out, then—”

      Lady Wendy held up a hand. “That’s enough detail for me, Mr. McCauley.”

      Hank chuckled, his anger gone as quickly as it began. The light turned green and he turned right. “The hotel’s just a few blocks from here. Do you want me to pull into valet parking?”

      “No, we’ve made arrangements for Prince Alexi to enter through the service entrance.”

      “But I’m not Prince Alexi yet.”

      “Yes, but you look enough like him that people may recognize you.”

      “They might also recognize me from my bronc-riding days.”

      “Really? Are you somewhat of a celebrity, then?”

      Hank chuckled again. “Just if you follow rodeo, Princess.”

      “Please, stop calling me those ridiculous names. As I explained, I’m not royalty.”

      “Yeah, but you sure are cute when you’re riled,” he said with a grin.

      “I assure you, Mr. McCauley, I’ve never been called ‘cute’ in my entire life.”

      As he stopped at the light to go around the block, he looked again at Wendy. She had a real aristocratic face, kind of narrow with what might be called sharp features. Her biggest assets, in his practiced opinion, were her eyes. He imagined they could get real warm and pretty, with the topaz color and golden highlights. But she didn’t use them to flirt. As a matter of fact, she didn’t play up any of her features, even that pale, pretty English complexion.

      “I think you might be real cute if you’d smile more often.”

      “I smile.”

      “Naw, I’m not talkin’ about one of those stingy little polite smiles. I’m talkin’ about a big old, happy-to-be-alive kind of smile.”

      He suspected she was blushing, because she looked down at her hands and fiddled with the buttons on her too-heavy suit jacket. “I don’t think we should be discussing my smile.”

      “Why?” He snapped his fingers, getting her attention. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got that British problem I heard about. I’m sure sorry, Lady Wendy.”

      “What British problem?” she asked, obviously irritated at his teasing.

      “I’m sure sorry I didn’t notice it earlier,” he whispered, then paused dramatically. “Bad teeth.”

      He heard her cry of indignation as he pulled to a stop in front of the hotel. “I most assuredly do not have bad teeth!”

      “Really? Let me see.” He leaned toward her.

      “Mr. McCauley! Please, I’m not one of your horses!”

      “Come on, now, Lady Wendy. Just open up a little and let me see.”

      “You are incorrigible.”

      She sounded offended, but he detected a hint of amusement under her starchy facade. “I know I am. It’s part of my charm.”

      She tried harder not to smile.

      Hank grinned. “You know you want to show me your pearly whites.”

      “I’ll have you know my mum and dad spent a fair amount on my teeth.”

      “Yeah? Mine, too. I was always busting out a tooth or chipping one when I got thrown.”

      “I’ve never had a chipped tooth.”

      “Really? They can be pretty sexy.”

      She sucked in a breath, her topaz eyes suddenly warm. As a matter of fact, the whole inside of the truck seemed to have warmed up considerably. “How?”

      He leaned a bit closer. “’Cause you can run your tongue over that little ol’ chip.”

      “Why would that be sexy?” she whispered.

      “Maybe I wasn’t makin’ myself clear. I meant if you were kissing me, you could run your tongue over that chip. Of course, you’d have to search really long and hard, ’cause it’s been fixed for years.”

      “I see,” she said, staring at his mouth.

      He couldn’t stand it a moment longer. He stretched his arm across the space dividing them, held the back of her head in one hand and kissed her while her lips were parted in surprise. He didn’t intend to take advantage of her shock, but her mouth was as sweet as Texas in springtime, and her lips were as soft as blue-bonnet petals. His tongue touched hers, then retreated to trace the shape of her teeth—teeth he’d already noted were pearly white and straight as could be. When she moaned, he cupped her cheek with his other hand and deepened the kiss.

      Behind them, a car horn honked. Shaking, she pulled away.

      “I think you’re right,” he said, struggling to keep his voice light. “There doesn’t seem to be anything at all wrong with your mouth.” Or her almost innocent, tentative kiss.

      “I’m certainly glad to hear that,” she said, her voice thin and shaky. “Perhaps we should just forget this ever happened, Mr. McCauley.”

      “I think you should call me Hank,” he said as he pulled his hand—and her barrette—away from her hair. He used his fingers to pull the silky length over her shoulders. “There.”

      “What are you doing?”

      “Nobody in his right might would believe that Hank McCauley would check into a hotel with a woman who has her hair all scraped back like yours was. Now you look more…presentable.”

      “There was nothing wrong with how I looked before!”

      “Not for everyday stuff, but checking into a hotel with a man? Naw, you just didn’t look right for that.”

      “Mr. McCauley, we are supposed to be at the service entrance so Prince Alexi can go immediately to his room via the back elevator.” Her voice rose and got a little bit higher with each word. She gazed outside, panic setting in at the crowded hotel entrance.

      “But I’m Hank McCauley, rodeo star, not Prince Alexi, major pain in the—never mind. Point is, no one’s going to believe I’m the prince yet.” He put the truck into gear and edged toward valet parking. “Besides, how are we gonna explain my truck around back? Your driver probably has his hands full getting that valet guy settled inside.” He pulled out his wallet, spotting a five he could give as a tip. “I’m going to have these nice young men park the dually someplace where I can get to it.”

      “Are you planning on going somewhere?” she asked, trying to finger-comb her hair.

      He reached over and ruffled the glossy reddish-brown strands again. “After that kiss? I don’t think so,” he said, grinning at her flushed, confused expression.

      He didn’t intend to kiss her again, but she didn’t know that. He kind of liked the idea that she was just as out of kilter as he was. He knew he was her means to an end, but that didn’t