Fugitive Fiancee. Kristin Gabriel

too busy trying not to pass out to care.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked, his callused hands cradling her foot.

      “Nothing. It’s silly.”

      “Tell me.”

      As Mimi struggled to remain conscious, she thought about all the money her father had wasted on doctors and even a hypnotist to help her overcome this ridiculous reaction to the sight of blood. Especially her own. But nothing had helped. In fact, her father’s insistence that she conquer this weakness had only seemed to make it worse.

      At last, she took a deep breath and focused her attention on his face instead of her foot. “The sight of blood makes me a little woozy. In fact, I have to wax my legs instead of shaving them because I’ll pass out if I nick myself with a razor.”

      Heat flooded her face when she realized how inappropriate it was to tell him that intimate little detail. Especially now that his thumb was absently stroking the sleek, bare skin of her ankle.

      She swallowed hard at his sensuous touch, wanting it both to stop and to go on forever. “I…you…I mean, this really isn’t necessary.”

      “Don’t look,” he ordered as he turned his attention to her left foot.

      She squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t stop the small gasp that left her lips when he tugged off her other shoe.

      “Does that hurt?”

      “Not really,” she breathed, warily opening her eyes.

      “Liar,” he said softly. Then he stood, turned and tossed her shoes in the fireplace.

      She watched in mute horror as her five-hundred-dollar shoes went up in flames. “What do you think you’re doing?”

      “I’m doing you a favor.”

      “But…those are the only shoes I have with me.”

      “My sister Shelby keeps a pair of boots here that she only wears when she comes out to ride.” His gaze flicked over her. “Might not be a perfect fit, but you two look about the same size.”

      “That’s not the point. You had no right to dispose of my property. How would you like it if I—” she motioned wildly toward the large picture window “—burned down your barn!”

      He arched a brow. “Is that what you were planning to do in there?”

      “Of course not. If you want to know the truth, I was hiding out. I figured a hayloft was the last place my fiancé would look, especially since he has horrible hay fever.” She swallowed, realizing the time had come to tell him everything. Well, maybe not everything. She did have some pride.

      “I was supposed to be married today. But I…” Mimi’s voice quavered, and she paused a moment to gain control. “I just couldn’t go through with it. So I left him at the altar, hopped into my car and drove until it wouldn’t go any farther.”

      The memory rekindled her anger, making her voice stronger. “It didn’t matter to me where or how far, I just had to get away. As far away as possible.”

      A muscle ticked in Garrett’s jaw, but he didn’t say anything.

      “I walked until I couldn’t take another step,” she continued, her fingers flexing on the wrinkled skirt of her gown. “That’s when I saw your ranch. There wasn’t anyone around but the dog, and he seemed friendly enough. I thought I could rest for a while in your hayloft. Maybe even stay the night.”

      Garrett just stared at her.

      “I know that was presumptuous. And I apologize for trespassing on your property.” She nibbled her lower lip. “But I really didn’t know what else to do. I certainly couldn’t walk right into your house, unlocked or not.”

      She swallowed again, her throat dry. “I’d only been up in your hayloft for about thirty minutes when you arrived.”

      The way Garrett was looking at her made her increasingly uneasy. Raw emotion smoldered in his eyes.

      “Well,” she said after a long, uncomfortable silence, “don’t you have anything to say?”

      “Yes.” His voice sounded low and tight. “Get the hell off my ranch.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      MIMI FLINCHED as the front door slammed. Garrett had ordered her to leave, but he’d been the one to stomp out the door. Men. She’d never understand them. Her father was just as unfathomable. Not to mention prickly and stubborn.

      Today she’d also learned he was a liar.

      Her chest tightened, and Mimi sat up straight on the sofa, suddenly unable to breathe. Frantic fingers clumsily worked the silk buttons running down the back of her gown. The fabric ripped, and she gasped for air until she was finally free of the confining garment.

      She stood up, shimmying out of the voluminous gown and letting it pile at her feet. Then she stepped out of it, still decently covered from ankle to collarbone by her white silk bridal slip. She kicked the gown into the corner, then sat on the sofa, placing her head between her knees to regain her equilibrium.

      Not a full-fledged panic attack, but close enough. A sign that her life was spinning out of control. Again. It had first happened when she was a freshman in college. A silly infatuation with a charming upper-classman had turned her life upside down and almost caused her to quit school.

      Then, two years ago, her father had been diagnosed with colon cancer. Mimi had immediately left her job with the Archives Department of the Houston Metropolitan Research Center and moved home, devoting herself to her widowed father’s care.

      An astute businessman, Rupert Casville was suddenly faced with his own mortality. His illness and frailty terrified Mimi.

      He lost all interest in Casville Industries, leaving everything in the capable hands of his business attorney, Paul Renquist.

      Without his business to occupy his time, her father had focused on continuing the Casville legacy. He soon became obsessed with having grandchildren, and since Mimi was his only child, it was up to her to provide them. Rupert’s obsession only got worse after his remission.

      She bit her lip, remembering her father’s wistful pleas for a grandson. But despite her empathy for him, she’d kept her secret. A secret she’d carried for a decade. Still, a sense of guilt made her agree to go on an endless series of blind dates. But none of the self-absorbed, eligible bachelors her father had found appealed to her.

      At twenty-eight, she no longer expected to find her soul mate. But she was willing to settle for someone she could depend on. A man who shared her desire for children and treated her with respect.

      A man like Paul Renquist.

      He was handsome and charming. A self-made man and a savvy attorney, Paul had efficiently handled every business crisis during her father’s illness. Strong and steady, he had been a solid rock to cling to in her suddenly stormy life.

      Still, his marriage proposal had come as a complete surprise. Mimi had been stunned, since they’d never shared more than a few casual dinner dates. Paul’s reasons for a marriage between them had made so much sense. She hadn’t stood a chance against his polished negotiating skills. Especially when he’d insisted on a prenuptial agreement that would prevent him from receiving any of the Casville millions if they divorced.

      So Mimi had said yes, believing she’d eventually grow to love him.

      Then today, thanks to the ancient ventilation system in the old cathedral, she’d discovered her father had been paying him to romance her all along. Mimi had been alone in the dressing room, fighting off another impending panic attack, when she’d heard their illuminating conversation through the air vent.

      She liked to think it was divine providence.

      She closed her eyes, her head spinning. She’d almost married a man she