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Authors: Patricia McLinn

BOOK: The Surprise Princess
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“Oh, I don’t mind Carolyn— I just didn’t want to bother her.” Which was moot now. She released a breath. Okay, to be honest, she’d be glad to have Carolyn. This whole thing was feeling … well,
weird
, as Brad had said. It was almost as if this had become about her, instead of the man wanting to see C.J.

Considering the man’s stone face and Brad’s uncharacteristic unfriendliness, it was up to her to smooth the way. She fell into the familiar routine of welcoming someone to the office. “Let’s go into the conference room and I’ll get coffee. Or would you prefer tea? Something else?”

Mr. Pierce said he’d appreciate black coffee.

When she turned in pursuit of coffee, she ran right into Brad. Her hands came up reflexively, pushing off to regain space. She felt the power beneath the softness of his sweatshirt. His hands rose, too, but she’d already removed hers, so he didn’t need to fend her off.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. “Brad, you don’t need to—”

“He’s not talking to you until Carolyn’s here.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Fine, you two stay here—” Staring at each other like junk yard dogs, she thought, but didn’t say. “—while I get the coffee.”

She had deposited a tray holding a carafe of coffee, cups, and various additives on the table between the two men, and returned to the main office for a basket of snacks when Carolyn swept in.

“Katie, what’s going on? What does this man want?”

Katie recognized a subtle easing in her muscles. Carolyn, cool and competent, was a good person to have in your corner. “I have no idea beyond what Brad said on the phone. I could have handled this, but Brad got weird about it.”

“Brad did?” Carolyn removed a teal scarf that set off her taupe coat. Katie didn’t look that polished with only herself to take care of, while Carolyn had two kids, a dog, a house, and a career … not to mention C.J.

Katie almost smiled at that thought. C.J. wasn’t helpless by any means, but he didn’t let much interfere with his priorities – Carolyn and the kids, then basketball and the family dog. As far as he was concerned all the rest were distracting details.

Carolyn was good at details. Noticing them, then handling them.

Like the day she’d called Katie, then a senior, into her office after an Eighteenth Century British Literature class and demanded to know what was wrong.

Katie’s mother had died four months earlier, leaving no insurance. Anna Davis hadn’t been able to contribute much from her pay at a dry cleaner’s, yet without it, the loans, scholarships, and two campus jobs Katie had cobbled together were falling short of keeping her in school.

Carolyn got all that and more out of Katie. She’d suggested C.J. hire Katie as part-time administrative assistant at a rate that let her drop the other two jobs.

That was October. In January, C.J. asked Katie to work full-time. Carolyn declared there would be no full-time position until Katie graduated. The week after receiving her degree, Katie’s status became permanent full-time. Three years later, C.J. had made her executive assistant, with a healthy raise.

“So where is this sinister stranger?” Carolyn asked now.

“He’s not sinister. He’s perfectly nice. Even though he’s attractive.”

“Even though–? Never mind. Brad doesn’t think he’s perfectly nice, and he’s not prone to histrionics. Though he can be protective of those he cares about.”

Katie ignored that. “Mr. Pierce is in the conference room. They both are.”

“Then let’s see what this is all about.” Carolyn stepped ahead of her to hold the door.

Inside, Katie set the basket in front of the visitor, who rose as she made the introductions.

Something flickered across Carolyn’s face as she extended her hand. “I’m also Katie’s long-time friend.”

“Mentor,” Katie said.

Brad shot her a look, but allowed no time for interpretation as he stood. “Now that Carolyn’s here, I’ll go. But I’ll be out in the office if you need anything. I’ll send C.J. in when he gets here.”

“He won’t be back for quite a while,” Katie objected.

Brad said grimly, “He will be when I let him know about this.”

“There is absolutely no need to inter—”

“Yes, please do, Brad,” Carolyn said.

He gave Katie a hard look, then closed the door behind him.

Carolyn draped her coat over a chair and gestured for Mr. Pierce to resume his seat and for Katie to take the chair at right angles to him. Carolyn sat beside Katie.

“Ms. Davis, as I said, my name is Pierce. Hunter Pierce.” He extracted a holder from his jacket pocket and showed an ID with the ease of practice. “I am a special agent with the Department of State’s Security Division. Perhaps you have an idea why I am here?”

“No.” She shook her head for emphasis. It had started spinning and the shake didn’t help.
Department of State
?
Hunter Pierce?
“Some business with Coach Draper, of course, but—”

“No. My business is with you, Ms. Davis. I asked for Coach Draper in an effort to protect your privacy.”

Her breath wouldn’t come out. “M-my …?”

“Let’s cover the formalities first. That might eliminate any need to … extend the conversation.”

Breath whooshed out audibly. “Yes. I’m sure we can clear this up and all get back to work.” She tried to smile.

It must not have been her best effort, because he looked even more solemn. But all he said was, “Your parents were Bob and Anna Davis. Your full name is Katharine Mary Davis.”

“Yes, but—”

“Where were you born?”

“Portland, Oregon. I have my birth certificate. It’s all in order.” Why had she said
that
? A memory flashed, standing at a counter as a child, looking up, her mother handing over a paper to someone unseen. Her mother’s hands shaking as she said,
Here is our Katie’s birth certificate. It is in order.

And then a more recent memory. In the attic. No … no. She’d decided. There was too much at stake.

“Your family moved here to Ashton when you were two?”

“Yes. How did you kn—?”

“And both your parents are now deceased.”

“Yes. But—”

He held up a hand, stopping her words. He looked from her to Carolyn and back. “Before we go any further, I must ask you each to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”

He took out crisp documents from his pocket, spread one open in front of each of them and placed a pen on the table.

Katie skimmed the language once and was going back over it. “This is— This is serious.”

To her surprise, Hunter Pierce’s eyes lightened and she could swear he almost grinned. “Yes, Ms. Davis, it is.”

“I will not pledge not to tell my husband,” Carolyn said. “Not if Katie’s interests are involved.”

“If he will also sign a copy, I think we can accommodate that, since both of you appear to serve in the capacity of advisers to Ms. Davis.”

Carolyn added a phrase to the document then signed. Hunter Pierce didn’t look pleased about Carolyn’s insertion, but said nothing as he folded the paper and waited for her.

Katie had a notion of saying she wouldn’t sign. But now that Carolyn had signed, what reason could she give other than a voice in her head shouting
Run, run, run away and hide?

She signed.

The man from the Department of State folded her sheet and slid both into his pocket.

“Now, what is this about?” Carolyn asked calmly.

“With all the coverage in recent months about King Jozef and his long-missing granddaughter reports to our offices and other interested parties have flooded in. Reports we’ve received about a young woman in Ashton, Wisconsin have particularly interested us. Not only because of a match with certain descriptors, but also because this young woman had stayed almost entirely under the radar. Remarkably so.”

He looked at her as if expecting a response. She was also aware of Carolyn’s eyes on her. She licked her lips. “Reports? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” he asked mildly. Then his face and tone became completely serious. “Tell me, Ms. Davis, have you ever had reason to think you might be Princess Josephine-Augusta of Bariavak?”

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

“N
o
. Absolutely not.”

She wanted to say more, to produce words that would end this now and forevermore, but her throat spasmed closed. Words jammed up against the block like stampeders at a locked door.

“What makes you think Katie might be Princess Josephine-Augusta?” Carolyn asked, as if this were a rational conversation.

“We’re not saying she is, you understand. It would require an investigation to confirm.”

“Yes, we understand all those cautions. But you wouldn’t be here, the State Department wouldn’t be interested in Katie, if you didn’t have some basis for thinking it is possible.”

“Carolyn, you know this is impossible.” Katie produced a credible chuckle. She raised both palms to Hunter Pierce in bemusement. “Impossible.”

“There are physical similarities as well as—”

The door opened and Coach C.J. Draper strode in. “What’s going on here?” He moved like a much younger man, despite the mangled left knee that had pushed him out of the pros and into coaching. Gray lightly streaked his mop of hair, but that didn’t age him much either.

Carolyn reached out a hand toward him. “C.J., close the door, please.” He did. “This is Hunter Pierce, an agent with the Department of State’s Security Service. Hunter, this is my husband, C.J. Draper.”

The other man stood to shake hands. “Coach Draper. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve followed your career and teams for a long time.”

“Thanks, but you’re not here for basketball, are you?”

“No, sir. Ms. Davis—”

“C.J.,” Carolyn interrupted, “they think Katie might be a princess.”

“Princess? She’s an empress. But that doesn’t mean you get a mid-year raise,” he added to her, squeezing her shoulder before backing up to sit beside Carolyn. “No princess renegotiations. In fact, since princess is a demotion from empress, you should give some of this year’s raise back.”

“C.J.,” Carolyn said as only she could say it. “This is serious. Hunter was about to tell us why he – why the Department of State – thinks she might be this missing princess.”

“What missing princess?”

Carolyn spurted a little puff. “The granddaughter of King Jozef of Bariavak, who was kidnapped as an infant during an uprising about thirty years ago, an uprising that earlier had killed his son-in-law. His daughter – the baby’s mother – died shortly after the kidnapping. The baby has never been found. It was generally assumed she was killed by the fleeing rebels who kidnapped her. But speculation about her started again late last year when the king was at Washington, D.C., events with a young woman who bears a strong resemblance to Bariavak’s royal family. That young—”

“Wait a minute. How do you know so much about this, Carolyn?”

“Because our daughter has been talking of almost nothing else since the story broke.”

“What story? All she’s been talking about is—
Oh
. This happened around the first of the year?”

“Yes.”

“That explains it. Heading into the meat of the conference schedule. I wasn’t paying attention to any news.”

Katie wanted to fling her arms around C.J.’s neck. Amid all this talk about a princess, he remained the same.

He continued, “I remember Steph talking about Washington. I thought it was weird she was so interested in politics. A princess makes a lot more sense. Especially a missing princess. But I thought she said they found this missing princess. Lose her again?” He shot at Hunter.

“No. She wasn’t—isn’t—”

Carolyn stepped in. “The young woman some people speculated was the king’s long-lost granddaughter had befriended the king and kept him company during the holidays. She became so close to the king, in fact, that he is going to give her away when she marries Hunter.”

Of
course
. That’s why he’d looked familiar. How had Katie not remembered after the hours she’d stared at those pictures? The pictures of the king of Bariavak with April Gareaux, some including the man she was going to marry – Hunter Pierce.

“Have I got that right?” Carolyn asked Hunter.

He grinned, revealing an entirely different man beyond the serious agent. “You hit the high points, ma’am.”

Carolyn smiled back at him. “The high points of the official story, but is it the whole story? Or the real story?”

“Ma’am,” he said, making it clear he wasn’t going to divulge anything beyond that official story.

She nodded her understanding. “Congratulations to you and April Gareaux. We hope you’ll be very happy.”

“Thank you.” He looked confident that they would be.

C.J. spoke up. “Okay, but what makes you think our Katie’s this missing princess?”

“I’m
not
.” None of them paid attention.

“That’s what Hunter was about to tell us when you came in, dear,” Carolyn said.

“I can tell you that similarities have been noted. Similarities of looks with the Bariavak royal family, for instance.”

“She and your April do look very much alike,” Carolyn said.

“We don’t.” This time everyone turned to Katie. Perhaps she’d been too emphatic. “She’s lovely and polished and sophisticated. I don’t look anything like her.”

“Surface.” Carolyn dismissed the surface as only someone naturally lovely and polished and sophisticated herself could do. “Bone structure, coloring, and features are strikingly similar.”

Katie tried a dry laugh. “I don’t think April Gareaux would appreciate hearing that.”

“April agrees with the professor. She’s seen your picture.” A twitch eased the neutrality of Hunter’s mouth. “She’d also tell you the polish came lately. In addition—” His face went neutral again. “—there’s the Bariavak Hand. It’s a strong trait in the royal family.”

Automatically, Katie covered her left hand with her right. But C.J. and Carolyn had been seeing that hand for years, and clearly Hunter Pierce knew about it before he arrived. So what sense was there in reverting to that childhood habit? None. She deliberately removed her right hand.

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