His Brother's Fiancee. Jasmine Cresswell

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       Besides, she’d assumed that what she and Michael shared was something much more important than messy emotions like lust and desire. She liked Michael’s company, admired his achievements, and envied his deep family roots. Surely those were better—stronger—grounds for marriage than a physical attraction that was likely to burn itself out within weeks of the honeymoon.

       Emily felt a spurt of betrayal when she thought back over the past three months. Michael had assured her numerous times that she was going to be the perfect wife for him, the ideal partner for a man burning up miles on the trail to the governor’s mansion. Only last week, after their dinner with Senator Drysdale and his wife, he’d told her that she was the sort of woman most political candidates could only dream of finding. Socially gracious, well educated, but never pushy, she burnished his image whenever they appeared together, Michael had said proudly. What had happened between last Wednesday and today to change his mind?

       Emily realized she’d been so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she’d given less than half her attention to Michael’s rambling explanation as to why he was calling off the wedding. In the end, though, perhaps it didn’t matter that she wasn’t much wiser about his motives now than she had been ten minutes ago. What could he possibly say that would justify such a crazy decision, anyway?

       “I’m counting on you to help me come up with a reasonable explanation for this last-minute cancellation,” Michael was saying, in a jolting echo of her own thoughts. “Neither of us wants to provide any more fodder for the scandal sheets than we need. Our breakup is bound to be reported by the local San Antonio media, especially coming right before the wedding like this. If we’re unlucky, this is a story that could get picked up by the national tabloids. We can’t forget how easily my campaign for governor could hit a roadblock. I know I don’t need to remind you, honey, how important it is that we don’t do anything to derail my fund-raising prospects at this stage of the game. These days, if you can’t please the moneymen, you can’t hope to run a campaign.”

       She winced at the endearment, but she could see he hadn’t even noticed the casual intimacy of the way he’d called her honey. Hurt made her angry. “Yes, I can see that your fund-raising prospects are your first priority right now.”

       Michael gave no indication that he noticed the sarcasm dripping from her reply. “I knew you’d understand, Emily. I value your opinion, you know, even though I can’t marry you, and I sure would appreciate anything you can think of that would keep my campaign moving along on an upward swing.”

       How about a swift kick in the pants, Emily thought wildly. That ought to give him some satisfactory upward propulsion.

       “It’s vital for us to have some sort of plausible story to tell before tonight’s dinner,” Michael said. He sent her a smile that Emily found infuriatingly patronizing. “I’m perfectly agreeable to pretending that it’s you who called it off.” His smile deepened, then changed into a warm chuckle. “Who knows? If you’re seen ditching me, maybe that’ll increase my sympathy ratings with the women voters.”

       “Or maybe they’ll all start wondering what I found wrong with you,” she said.

       His worried frown instantly reappeared. “Damn! I was joking, but you have a point. Hmm…we’ll have to think about that some more. There must be some way for us to pull this one out 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.”

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