Her So-Called Fiancé. Abby Gaines

Sabrina’s thighs “—gravitas.”

      She raised her eyebrows, perhaps questioning whether Sabrina knew what gravitas meant.

      “You think being Miss Georgia means I don’t have gravitas?” Sabrina asked.

      One of the men cleared his throat. “It’s more that we wouldn’t expect our spokesperson to be front-page news in the tabloid newspapers.”

      The man next to him fingered the knot in his navy-blue silk tie. “The rumors of physical confrontation in Las Vegas…”

      “The only confrontation was verbal, when another competitor said she wanted to slap me.” Sabrina shifted on her chair; it was mortifying to have to explain Miss Maine’s sudden conviction that Sabrina’s wealthy father must have bribed the judges for her to win the Miss Georgia contest. Just because nearly every other woman had worked her way up through contests like Miss Save ‘n’ Grow Bank Summer Carnival before making it at state level…

      Distaste crossed Richard’s face.

      “She said it,” Sabrina said levelly. “I walked away and that was the end of it.”

      “Not as far as the media were concerned,” Silver Hair pointed out. “The public perception is of a squabble.”

      The temperature in the room seemed to have plunged to arctic levels. Sabrina shivered in her pink silk blouse and tailored knee-length cream skirt, perfect, she’d thought this morning, in their demureness. Maybe something severe and black would have been a better choice. She rubbed her arms. This was how Jake must feel, poised to lose the primary.

      But she knew for sure Jake wasn’t about to give up on becoming governor just because she wouldn’t cooperate.

      I won’t give up, either. Sabrina drew a steadying breath and willed herself not to react in a way that might shred the board’s paper-thin respect for her.

      “My level of public support has actually grown since the incidents you mention,” she said. Jake’s comments had checked out in the online search she’d run last night. She had a lot of new fans since the Miss U.S.A. debacle.

      “We’re not looking for someone who can whip up the sympathy of the man in the street,” Silver Hair said. “We need to impress legislators, educators, corporate sponsors. People with serious concerns.”

      “I’m pleased you said that.” Sabrina shot her a dazzling smile. “Because people with serious concerns don’t pay much attention to tabloid headlines. The media will soon lose interest in my, uh, deficiencies. What won’t change is that I’m the best fit for this job.” She squared her shoulders as she glanced around the table. “Do you think you’ll find another spokesperson with my public recognition at all levels of society, who knows what it’s like to put an education on hold because of an injury? Someone who truly understands the difference our school will make?”

      Richard leafed through the papers in front of him as if he had two dozen such candidates right there in black and white.

      Sabrina knew he didn’t. She breathed a little easier and spread her fingers on the table’s polished surface. It was natural that the board should have questions about the headlines. What mattered was that she could show them she was unique.

      “The other possibility,” the man in the blue tie said, “is that we recruit a family member of someone affected by serious injury. Someone who can talk about the effect on the entire family.”

      “It lacks the same emotional impact,” Sabrina said with all the authority she could muster.

      “Perhaps, but that person might have other qualities that lend themselves to the job. More orthodox qualities.”

      Sabrina’s spine tingled. “Do you have someone in mind?”

      “One of the reasons I welcomed your approach,” Richard said, “was because your father’s firm has a strong track record fighting legal battles in the education system.”

      Okay, maybe she was as stupid as they appeared to think, because it took a full five seconds for Sabrina to see where this was going.

      “My family? You’re thinking one of my sisters could front the trust?”

      She would rather they gave the job to Miss Maine. To not only have her dream snatched from her, but then to see it handed to one of her fearsomely intelligent, supersuccessful sisters…

       I won’t let them do this.

      “It’s only a thought,” Richard said.

      Sabrina whisked her trembling hands into her lap, and was embarrassed to see her fingertips had left ten smudges on the glossy tabletop. “Neither of my sisters would dream of accepting the position,” she said. “Not when they know how important it is to me.”

      She hoped she was right. Her sisters loved her, but they’d thought her winning Miss Georgia and the gusto with which she’d thrown herself into the role was cute, rather than a worthy achievement. They didn’t take her seriously, and she knew darned well they didn’t respect her. Why should they?

      She’d spent years letting people do things for her because they’d worried she would overdo it in the aftermath of the accident. Had a string of unlikely, unfulfilled ambitions, culminating in the ignominy of the Miss U.S.A. Pageant. And now the injured children she wanted to help would have to rely on someone else to champion them. To think, she’d even imagined announcing her new role to her family and, yes, impressing them.

      She didn’t really believe either of her sisters would snatch the job out from under her if she asked them not to. But she was glad she hadn’t told them about the appointment, glad she didn’t have to witness their lack of surprise when they learned she’d been fired before she started.

      Jake wouldn’t be surprised, either. He was about to be proven right—she couldn’t hold down a job.

      The only person who believes in me is me. The thought left an unpleasant, metallic taste in her mouth.

       If I’m the only person who believes in me, I’m the only person who can fix this.

      Okay, she hadn’t expected establishing her independence and earning some respect to be so fraught. But she couldn’t give up now. “The problem with a knee-jerk reaction to the headlines,” she said, interrupting Silver Hair, who’d started pontificating about credibility, “is that it fails to take some important considerations into account.”

      “And those are…?” Richard prompted.

      At last, someone was giving her a break. She smiled at him, more warmly than he deserved. “You don’t just need someone to recite whatever words you put in their mouth. You need someone who’ll have active input into your strategy.”

      Sabrina spread her palms on the table again, not caring if she perspired right through the wood’s high-gloss polish. “For instance, you’re relying on the education department and a few private backers to open their wallets to build the school. That’s not good enough.” Richard’s chin jutted at her temerity, but she didn’t stop. “The school should be fully state funded, so we don’t go through the cycle year after year of begging for donations. We need backing at the highest level of the state legislature.”

      Silver Hair let out a condescending laugh. “That’s the dream scenario, but it’s not going to happen. Certainly not because of your involvement.”

      The woman’s rudeness was breathtaking.

      Spots floated before Sabrina’s eyes. She hadn’t felt this angry since a resident physician had told her she’d likely never walk again.

      She needed to say something to shut these people up, once and for all. Something big, no half measures.

      Her high profile and her medical history wouldn’t cut it. She needed something that would trump her sisters’ brains, business connections and lobbying capabilities.