Her So-Called Fiancé. Abby Gaines

to ask for nothing. Until the bribe. And look how well that had turned out.

      “You didn’t have to ask. I did whatever it took to please you. But I’m stronger now, stronger than you or anyone knows.”

      The disconnect between what she was saying and her appearance couldn’t have been greater, Jake thought. Sabrina might not be as skinny as some of her rivals at Miss U.S.A., but there was something about her that suggested fragility. Her wrists were slender, her fingers long and fine. She had a habit of shielding her clear blue eyes with her lashes, so that people—men—worried about her.

      Since their breakup, Jake always assumed she was hiding her laughter at the way they made idiots of themselves over her.

      The way he almost had. The only good to come out of her betrayal was that it had forced an end to a relationship that teetered on the verge of out of control but that he hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to abandon.

      He hauled his mind back to the present, to Sabrina standing hands on hips in front of him. “Okay, I believe you,” he said. “You’re strong. And I accept that you’re dedicated to your new job—in fact, I admire that.”

      She didn’t relax one iota.

      “But your responsibilities for the trust don’t sound like full-time work. Surely you can help me out with the occasional interview, a couple of public appearances?”

      She was shaking her head before he finished talking.

      “Dammit, Sabrina, you’re not the one who should be holding a grudge here,” he snapped. She was famous among their friends for her generous willingness to give people the benefit of the doubt, a second chance. Why should he be the exception to the rule? Unless…

      “This isn’t about you and me, our personal relationship, is it?” He grasped her shoulders, and the contact with bare flesh, covered only by the thin straps of her dress, shocked him with the power of a lightning strike. He jerked backward, at the same moment as she wrenched herself free. Jake willed his breathing to slow down. “Are you refusing to help me because you’re still mad that I dumped you?”

      Damn, damn, damn. What was it about Sabrina that destroyed his rationality? Now he’d made her mad.

      She pressed her full lips together as she snatched her purse. “I’m leaving.”

      Jake recognized that stubbornness. The last time he’d seen it, she’d been in the hospital, not much more than a kid, fighting to recover from the accident with everything she had.

      Years later when he’d been drawn against all good sense to Sabrina the Social Butterfly, he’d concluded that her recovery must have drained the reserves of her strength, her courage. Which explained why she was content to accept, almost welcomed people’s stifling protectiveness and concern. He’d understood, sympathized…though not to the extent that he’d let her pull her helpless act on him.

      Now, he realized that teenage obstinacy had just been shelved until she needed it. And he was at a disconcerting loss as to what to do next. No more begging, that was for sure. He would think of something else. Tomorrow. He grabbed his keys. “I’ll drive you home.”

      “I’ll call Tyler, have him pick me up.”

      If Jake hadn’t felt so bitter, he’d have laughed. She expected him to believe her refusal was about her new start, nothing to do with their personal history. He held out the phone to her. “Here you go, Miss Independence. Summon Tyler to your rescue.”

      He watched as she blushed beet red. Wordlessly, she took the phone from him. Her finger hovered over the buttons, then she dialed.

      She ordered a cab.

      Too little, too late, Jake thought as they waited in silence for the taxi. Which they both knew would take her to her father’s house. Sabrina could claim the independence of a yeti. But she was still the same old Sabrina, relying on her looks and on her family and friends to get her through life’s difficulties.

      And if she was the same old Sabrina, one way or another, he would convince her to do what he wanted.

      “SABRINA, THANKS FOR rearranging your schedule to meet with us this afternoon.” Richard Ainsley, head of the Injured Kids Education Trust, shook Sabrina’s hand and ushered her into his luxurious penthouse apartment.

      “No problem, you know the trust is my top priority.” Sabrina smiled at the man who had sufficient belief in her abilities that he’d offered her the job of her dreams. In her new role, she would do so much to help children and teens with spinal and other serious injuries. To give them hope. Nothing could be more worthwhile.

      The tension of yesterday’s conversation with Jake faded with each step she took across the plush, cream-colored carpet.

      She just wished she was a little more wide-awake for this meeting. Behind Richard’s back, she stifled a yawn. She shouldn’t have wasted precious sleep time last night tossing and turning, worrying about Jake’s election prospects. She’d bet he hadn’t given her career another thought.

      Sleep deprivation must be the reason why it took a while for Richard’s exact words to seep into her brain. “Uh, did you say, to meet with us?” As far as she knew, this get-together was an informal one-on-one meeting to draft an announcement of her appointment.

      Over his shoulder he said, “A couple of the other board members are joining us.”

      “A couple” meant four, Sabrina discovered when she followed Richard into the dining room. A silver-haired woman, a slightly younger brunette and two middle-aged men were already seated at the antique mahogany table.

      Was it her imagination, or did four pairs of eyes drop to her thighs?

      Richard introduced her to the board members. Focused on clenching her thigh muscles in an attempt to minimize their bulk, Sabrina struggled to absorb their names.

      Richard pulled out a green velvet-upholstered chair for her, the other side of the table from the others. He took his seat at the head, which meant she now had five people staring at her. Outranked by age, number and severity of demeanor, Sabrina felt like a five-year-old who’d flunked Finger Painting 101.

      “I’m honored that the announcement of my appointment was important enough to bring you all here.” She laughed nervously.

      Richard didn’t offer her coffee, the way he had at previous meetings—Sabrina looked longingly at the pot on the sideboard. Behind the coffee, through glass-fronted cabinet doors, she saw an array of spirits. A stiff whiskey held sudden appeal.

      “You’ll remember,” Richard began, “my mentioning that your appointment would need to be ratified by the board.”

      “I recall your describing it as a formality,” she said.

      His gaze slid away. Sabrina got a hollow feeling behind her ribs.

      Maybe because she’d just had her first personal conversation with Jake in five years, a saying of his father’s popped into her head. If you want orchids, don’t plant camellias.

      If she wanted this job, she couldn’t afford to joke, or to skirt around the topic.

      “Is there a problem with my appointment?” Sabrina asked. “Because I am one hundred percent committed to the trust and to what you’re—we’re—trying to do. As you said, Richard, my past injuries and my public profile make me the ideal candidate.”

      Richard’s mouth pulled back in a smile that was more grimace, as if he didn’t appreciate her excellent memory. “The board’s thinking with regard to public profile has, uh, changed. We’re now thinking of a specific kind of profile.” He sent a silent appeal to his colleagues.

      The silver-haired woman spoke up. “The Injured Kids Education Trust is at a crucial juncture.”

       So is my life.

      Silver Hair continued,