Fugitive Fiancee. Kristin Gabriel
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He ate the same breakfast every morning. Three eggs over easy, a rasher of bacon, hominy grits and a big glass of tomato juice. “So what else did she say?”
Paul looked at him. “Who?”
“That Collingsworth dame.”
Paul picked up a spoon and returned his attention to his grapefruit. “She told me she witnessed Mimi running out of the church herself. So she didn’t buy our story about the bride suddenly taking ill.”
“Damn.” Rupert reached into his suitcoat and pulled out a small silver flask. He unscrewed the lid, then poured a generous shot of vodka into his tomato juice.
Paul swallowed hard, his throat suddenly very dry. “I’ll take one of those.”
Rupert raised a grizzled brow. “I thought you gave up the booze.”
“Hell, Rupert, my bride’s run out on me! I can’t think of a better occasion to fall off the wagon, can you?”
Rupert set the flask on the table and pushed it toward him. “There you go, Paul. Enjoy. Of course, you take one drink, and you can forget about ever marrying my daughter.”
Paul froze, his hand already outstretched toward the flask. He glanced at Rupert’s slate-blue eyes and instinctively knew he meant business. But then, Rupert Casville always meant business. And he never let inconsequential things like friends or family, or even his only daughter, stand in his way.
“Marry her?” Paul’s hand curled into a fist as he slumped in his chair. “We can’t even find her.”
“Mimi simply got a case of cold feet. She’ll be back.” Rupert took a sip of tomato juice. “Her mother was skittish, too. High-strung. The thoroughbreds always are.”
Paul watched Rupert push his food away, half-eaten. He’d lost a considerable amount of weight in the last two years. Of course, Rupert’s loss was Paul’s gain. His illness had given Paul a golden opportunity for a more powerful role at Casville Industries. Not only had he succeeded in a professional sense, but he’d impressed Rupert enough for the CEO to consider him husband material for his man-shy daughter.
Rupert tossed his linen napkin on the table. “I still can’t believe Mimi didn’t come home last night. It’s not like her to be so irresponsible.”
“I suppose we just need to be patient.”
“Patient?” Rupert snapped. “I didn’t become one of the richest men in Texas by sitting around on my backside. I make things happen.”
Paul clenched his jaw, willing himself to keep his mouth shut. He’d been doing a damn good job of it for the last two years, working by Rupert’s side and patiently enduring the man’s patronizing attitude and all-around bullshit day after day.
Now, thanks to Mimi’s little stunt, he’d have to put up with it even longer. He closed his eyes and imagined wringing her beautiful neck. Not that he’d ever follow through, of course. When she finally made an appearance, he’d act the part of the concerned, supportive fiancé, assuring her that this marriage would be good for both of them. Just as he’d been doing almost nonstop for the last three months.
The funny thing was, he almost believed it himself. Mimi was an attractive, vivacious woman who would make a wonderful wife. She knew all the right people and moved in all the right circles. Her basic goodness appealed to him, even when he found himself grating his teeth at her concern for her father and the household staff.
Her only concern should be him.
“The girl’s probably just hiding out somewhere, too embarrassed to come home.” Rupert picked up his tomato juice. “As soon as you’re done with breakfast, I want you to hire someone to find her.”
“It’s already done.” Paul set down his fork. “I called Harper first thing this morning.”
Rupert nodded approvingly. “He’s the best.”
“Discreet, too,” Paul added, then hesitated. “Do you think she found out about our…financial agreement?”
“How could she? I certainly didn’t say anything.”
“Neither did I. So there must be some reason for her sudden departure from the church.”
Rupert set down his glass. “I already told you. Cold feet. I’m sure you’ll find a way to warm her up once we find her.”
Paul had at least a million reasons to try, thanks to Rupert Casville’s incentive program. The old man had agreed to deposit a million dollars in Paul’s bank account as soon as he and Mimi were married. Paul would receive another million if Rupert’s first grandchild was conceived within a year, as well as a hefty share of Casville Industries stock.
The telephone rang, startling them both. Rupert shot out of his chair. “I’ll bet this is it.”
Paul watched Rupert pick up the receiver, then saw his expectant expression fade as he rubbed one hand over the gray stubble on his face. Try as he might, Paul was unable to make out the low mumblings of the phone conversation.
His gaze moved to the silver flask of vodka on the table. His biggest weakness. If he could give up alcohol, he could do anything. Now was not the time to lose control. Mimi’s escape didn’t have to mean the end of his dreams. Just a temporary delay.
Rupert heaved a long sigh as he hung up the telephone receiver. “That was Harper. He’s checked the airport, train station and bus terminal, but no sign of Mimi. As far as he can tell, she’s still somewhere in Austin.”
“Unless she left the city in her car.”
Rupert shook his head. “Her car wouldn’t get her very far since she left her wallet and credit cards at home. She brought that silly little white purse with her to the church, and it barely had enough room for her car keys and driver’s license.”
Paul tensed. “So where is she?”
“Hell if I know,” Rupert snapped, raking his hand through his thinning gray hair. Then he looked up, worry lines etched in his brow. “Do you think she’s all right?”
Paul thought she was a spoiled princess who needed a good spanking, but he knew better than to say it out loud. “I’m sure she’s fine. Mimi knows how to take care of herself. She’ll be home before you know it, safe and sound.”
“I hope so.” Rupert sighed. “I’m exhausted. I stayed up half the night waiting for her to come home.”
No doubt the vodka was kicking in, too. Paul picked up the flask and handed it to him. “Go get some sleep. I’ll stay here and handle any incoming business calls.”
Rupert slipped the flask into his pocket. “Wake me if you hear anything new from Harper.”
“I will.” Paul placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder as they walked toward the door. “And don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
GARRETT OPENED his eyes, squinting at the sunshine streaming through his bedroom window—a sign that it was long past daybreak. Surprised that he’d over-slept, he threw back the covers and sat up in bed. Something niggled at the back of his sleep-numbed brain. Something important. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head.
Then he smelled bacon frying.
Mimi. The peace of the morning shattered as reality came rushing back. She was the reason he’d tossed and turned most of the night, snatches of erotic dreams invading his sleep. Dreams she’d invoked with her lilting voice and her inviting mouth and those incredible eyes.
Garrett rubbed one hand over the rough whiskers on his face, trying to remember just how long it had been since he’d slept with a woman. Finding female companionship had never been a problem, but lately he’d been too wrapped up searching for his birth mother to make time for anything else.
Garrett stood up as the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee teased his nostrils.