The Stolen Bride. Jacqueline Diamond

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      “What was the favor?” Erin asked.

      “Oh! Thanks for reminding me,” said her boss. “I know you made two runs to the bank already, and I was going to make the last trip myself. But my babysitter just called and said Kiki’s fussing.” That was her two-year-old daughter. “I hope she’s not coming down with something. Would you mind making the drop?”

      “No problem.” Erin ignored a twinge of apprehension when she remembered the van. Tustin was a safe city and it was daylight, although fading fast.

      Bea handed over the cash box. The heavy metal container was ridiculously obvious, Erin thought. Well, if someone stole it, she’d send another anonymous check to make good on the loss.

      It hadn’t been easy keeping her secret while working for Conrad Promotions the past three years, she reflected as Bea turned to accept compliments from an exhibitor. It helped that hardly anyone in Orange County knew her family.

      In Sundown Valley, everybody knew about the Marshall Company. The development and management firm owned everything from the local mall to the medical center. Two years ago, Erin had inherited a half interest in it.

      She didn’t dismiss the advantages of wealth, but it had drawbacks, too. If her mother, Alice, weren’t wealthy, would her stepfather, Lance Bolding, have materialized out of nowhere during a cruise last year and charmed the grieving widow into marrying him? And if he hadn’t done that, he couldn’t have managed to come between Alice and her daughter.

      Erin’s concerns deepened dramatically four months ago when her mother nearly drowned in the lake near the new home Lance had persuaded her to buy. Although the police had ruled it an accident, she feared for her mother’s safety.

      But Alice had refused to let her intervene. In fact, they’d quarreled on the phone right after the accident. Since then, her mother had refused to let Erin come to visit. Lance had managed to isolate her almost completely.

      Except from Chet Dever. As CEO of the Marshall Company, he’d been her father’s right-hand man and, since Alice served as the company’s chairman of the board, he often consulted her on business matters. He’d kept an eye on her for Erin these past few months.

      After dating her casually in the past, he’d also begun to court her in earnest. Last weekend, he’d asked Erin to marry him. After taking a week to think about it, she’d decided to say yes tomorrow.

      Chet was handsome, smart and eloquent. She admired his focus and his ambitious agenda as a leading congressional candidate in next spring’s primary. And he was one of the few men she’d met for whom her money was neither an obstacle nor her chief attraction.

      Erin’s free hand closed over the pendant. The boy who’d given it to her in high school had been her first love, but it made no sense to compare Chet to someone she hadn’t seen in nearly ten years. And probably never would again. During their painful breakup, Joseph had made it clear he wanted nothing further to do with Erin.

      Yet touching the heart gave her a sense of connection. Why was she thinking about him now? Why did I wear this today?

      Suddenly she knew the answer, although she hadn’t wanted to face it. Because it reminded her of someone with whom she’d felt things she could never feel with Chet: a visceral excitement, an eagerness to touch him, the joy of spontaneity.

      Until another man affected her that strongly, she had no business getting married.

      “Is it something I said?” Bea asked. “You’re off in your own little world.”

      “I’m sorry.” Erin realized she’d been standing there like a zombie.

      “I know it isn’t the effect of holding so much money, because you handled more than that earlier,” her boss pointed out.

      “It’s Chet,” Erin blurted. “It’s a mistake.”

      “What’s a mistake?”

      “I was going to say yes. I can’t marry him.” She let out a long breath and was surprised by the intensity of her relief.

      “Marriage is a big step, but I thought you really liked him,” Bea said. “He made a great impression on my husband and me.” Chet had taken them all out for a French dinner.

      “I do like him,” Erin said. “I just don’t love him.” And if I don’t love him by now, I never will.

      She realized she’d been hoping all along that she was falling in love. Life would be so simple if she could marry Chet.

      Her mother would approve, and they might grow close again. And Erin liked Chet’s goal of stimulating the economy by shrinking government and encouraging private investment. She’d always wanted to make a difference in the world and with him, she could.

      Why had she believed that was enough reason to get married? By now, she ought to know her own mind and have her own purpose in life. Although she’d made a start by working for Conrad Promotions, it wasn’t enough.

      “You’re the only one who can make that decision,” Bea told her. “I’m sure you’ve given it a lot of thought.”

      “Not nearly enough, or I’d have realized this sooner,” Erin answered. “Maybe I should call and save him the drive.” Sundown Valley was fifty miles away.

      “This is the kind of news he deserves to hear in person,” cautioned her boss.

      Erin sighed. “You’re right. Well, you’d better go make sure Kiki’s okay.”

      Bea gathered her possessions. “See you Monday. And thanks again!”

      “Sure thing.”

      Erin headed for her car. She hoped tomorrow’s confrontation wasn’t going to be awkward. She knew Chet better than to believe he would accept her refusal without trying to change her mind.

      As she ducked beneath the ropes that separated the fair from the parking area, she noticed how quickly twilight was settling in. And how empty the parking lot loomed, isolated in the midst of a huge office park.

      To one side, Erin heard a motor spring to life. In her preoccupation with Chet, she’d forgotten the van.

      She was disturbed to see it pull away from the building and move slowly toward her. There was nothing between them save a few planters filled with ficus trees and aromatic, flowering bushes.

      Erin clutched the cash box tighter. She wondered if she should make a run for it or if she was just being paranoid.

      She was quite a ways from her car, which sat forlornly near the rim of the lot. Her legs, weary from a day of standing, protested when she lengthened her stride and the heavy cash box weighed her down.

      Surely she was imagining the threat. Yet although there were people not far away—the workmen taking down the rides, a few vendors disassembling their booths—no one paid attention to Erin.

      The van speeded up.

      Erin reversed course back toward the fair. The van swung toward her.

      She hadn’t imagined the threat.

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