His Brother's Fiancee. Jasmine Cresswell
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of the hat.”
“Consult with your campaign manager,” she said, her jaw clenched. “I’m sure Jeff Greiff will have an opinion. He always does. After all, this is a political issue, isn’t it? There don’t seem to be many emotions involved.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, suddenly solemn. “At least on my side, there’s quite a lot of feeling, even though we both recognized this was pretty much a marriage of convenience. I really do care about you, Emily. It’s just that I need to be so careful—“ He pulled himself up short. “Anyway, thanks for suggesting I should get in touch with Jeff. That was a great idea, I’ll give him a call.”
“Sure. Don’t let me keep you.”
Her sarcasm finally penetrated Michael’s cloud of self-absorption. He had reached for his cell phone, but he put it down on the desk without dialing, his expression contrite and faintly ashamed. “I’m real sorry, Emily. But this will turn out for the best, you’ll see.”
He leaned forward and, to her horror, she realized he was planning to hug her, or maybe even give her a comforting kiss. She hastily stepped backward, out of his reach.
“Don’t touch me!” She was humiliated by the hurt and panic that she could no longer screen out of her voice.
Michael’s expression softened into a sympathy that she didn’t want and couldn’t bear to see. “I have a high regard for you and your adopted family, Emily, a very high regard. Even though things haven’t worked out between the two of us, I’m glad that my father and yours have already entered into a business partnership for that new land development in Laurel Acres. And I want you to know that if I can count on your father for the promised campaign contributions, then he can count on me to get him all the introductions he can possibly use for his other business projects. Any doors that might have been closed to him in the past…well, I’ll personally guarantee to make sure that they spring open. The Chambers family name carries a lot of power in this state, and you’ve earned the right to have me use some of that power on behalf of your adoptive family.”
Earned the right? The shock was well and truly wearing off, Emily realized. She was so hurt by Michael’s suggestion that their engagement had been nothing more than a subsidiary clause in a business deal, and so disgusted by his casual shattering of their promises to each other, that she was about to say all sorts of things she would undoubtedly regret. Thinking first and speaking much later had prevented her from making a lot of bad mistakes in her life. No point in changing the habits of a lifetime at this traumatic moment. What she needed to do right now was to get out of here so that she could draw the tattered remnants of her pride and dignity back around her.
Averting her eyes, she picked up the wedding arrangements binder and clutched it to her chest, deriving irrational comfort from its familiar weight, even though all the documents tucked carefully inside were now so much waste paper.
“I can’t stay talking to you any longer, Michael. I have an appointment all the way across town.” She was fiercely glad now that she’d never told him about her decision to consult with Dylan Garrett of Finders Keepers. Especially glad that she’d never even breathed a hint as to why she might want to hire the services of a private investigator. Her desire to find her birth mother seemed an intimate yearning that she was glad she’d never shared with Michael.
She glanced at her watch, surprised that some part of her brain was still functioning clearly enough to enable her to note that it was 10:38. “Unless the traffic is miraculously light, I’m going to be late.”
“Of course, don’t let me keep you. We’re just about finished here, aren’t we?”
“You could certainly say that.”
“Then I’ll let you go.” Michael was obviously as anxious to get away from her as she was to get away from him. She could see his fingers quivering over the buttons of his cell phone. “I really appreciate how understanding you’ve been about this, Emily. I knew you would be, though. You’re one class act, but you know that, don’t you?” He looked at her almost wistfully. “In so many ways, you’d have made the perfect governor’s wife.”
She was a class act in grave danger of tossing her cookies if she didn’t get out of this room in the next thirty seconds. Without saying another word, Emily swung out of the library, proud that she was sufficiently in control to close the door quietly behind her.
Emily had never made a scene in her life, and she wasn’t about to give Michael Chambers the satisfaction of seeing her create one now. When you had no idea where you came from, it wasn’t a good idea to give people cause to ask questions about your stability, or even your manners.
Ever the lady—even if she hadn’t been born one—Emily walked quietly from the room.
CHAPTER TWO
THE NEXT TIME Emily was consciously aware of her surroundings, she found herself facing a set of imposing barred wrought-iron gates. Unable to proceed, she was forced to stop driving. She drew her Ford Explorer to a halt, her hands starting to shake on the steering wheel when she realized that she had arrived at the Double G Ranch on the far northwestern outskirts of San Antonio.
Good grief, if she was at the Double G, she must have driven clear across town at the height of midday traffic! Try as she might, she couldn’t summon a single memory of seeing another vehicle, or stopping for a traffic light. She could only be thankful that she hadn’t killed anyone in the process of getting here.
Although a traffic accident might be one solution to her dilemma, she thought with a touch of hysteria. Maybe she could stage a fake accident, smash up the car a bit, and feign head injuries. How about pretending to have amnesia? Then Michael could sorrowfully announce to the 350 assembled guests that since his fiancée had lost her mind, they were postponing the wedding.
Three hundred and fifty guests. Emily’s hands started to shake again. She’d tried so hard to be a source of pride to her parents. The Suttons had showered her with love and attention from the day they picked her up at the adoption agency, when she was only two weeks old. Achieving her maximum potential had seemed the least she could do to demonstrate her gratitude. Now she appeared doomed to shatter their pride in a big way, in the most public of settings. How in the world was she going to face them?
Her hands simply wouldn’t stop shaking. She gripped the wheel, forcing herself back to an approximation of calm. Take things one step at a time. By chance, she’d made it here to the ranch without mishap. On time, no less, so she might as well keep her appointment. When she’d finished her consultation with Dylan Garrett, there would be more than enough hours left in the day to track down her parents and pass on the shocking news that their weekend schedule suddenly had plenty of free time in it.
First she had to get through the closed gates. Small tasks seemed very difficult when half your brain was nonfunctioning. Emily rubbed her pounding forehead. How was she supposed to get inside? There were video monitors mounted on the decorative stone gate posts, but she couldn’t see any handles or locks on the gates themselves. Belatedly, she remembered that Carolyn had warned her about the secured entrance to the ranch. She’d been instructed to press the buzzer right below the videocam and request admittance.
Okay, Emily decided. She could manage that.
Hot, humid air assailed her as she rolled down the window. The temperature had been in the nineties for the past several days, and there was no rain in the five-day forecast, no expectation of a return to the eighties anytime soon. She’d been happy about the dry spell when she heard the forecast this morning. Now she wished rain would pour down in torrents. If there could only be a flood, just a little one, with nobody drowning, would that be sufficient excuse to call off the wedding?
Despite a fervent prayer for lightning bolts and thunder claps, the sky remained stubbornly cloudless, without the tiniest hint of an impending shower, let alone a flood of torrential rain. Thunderstorms, she could only conclude, were not delivered on demand to save people from social embarrassment.
Sighing,