Her So-Called Fiancé. Abby Gaines

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СКАЧАТЬ call Tyler, have him pick me up.”

      If Jake hadn’t felt so bitter, he’d have laughed. She expected him to believe her refusal was about her new start, nothing to do with their personal history. He held out the phone to her. “Here you go, Miss Independence. Summon Tyler to your rescue.”

      He watched as she blushed beet red. Wordlessly, she took the phone from him. Her finger hovered over the buttons, then she dialed.

      She ordered a cab.

      Too little, too late, Jake thought as they waited in silence for the taxi. Which they both knew would take her to her father’s house. Sabrina could claim the independence of a yeti. But she was still the same old Sabrina, relying on her looks and on her family and friends to get her through life’s difficulties.

      And if she was the same old Sabrina, one way or another, he would convince her to do what he wanted.

      “SABRINA, THANKS FOR rearranging your schedule to meet with us this afternoon.” Richard Ainsley, head of the Injured Kids Education Trust, shook Sabrina’s hand and ushered her into his luxurious penthouse apartment.

      “No problem, you know the trust is my top priority.” Sabrina smiled at the man who had sufficient belief in her abilities that he’d offered her the job of her dreams. In her new role, she would do so much to help children and teens with spinal and other serious injuries. To give them hope. Nothing could be more worthwhile.

      The tension of yesterday’s conversation with Jake faded with each step she took across the plush, cream-colored carpet.

      She just wished she was a little more wide-awake for this meeting. Behind Richard’s back, she stifled a yawn. She shouldn’t have wasted precious sleep time last night tossing and turning, worrying about Jake’s election prospects. She’d bet he hadn’t given her career another thought.

      Sleep deprivation must be the reason why it took a while for Richard’s exact words to seep into her brain. “Uh, did you say, to meet with us?” As far as she knew, this get-together was an informal one-on-one meeting to draft an announcement of her appointment.

      Over his shoulder he said, “A couple of the other board members are joining us.”

      “A couple” meant four, Sabrina discovered when she followed Richard into the dining room. A silver-haired woman, a slightly younger brunette and two middle-aged men were already seated at the antique mahogany table.

      Was it her imagination, or did four pairs of eyes drop to her thighs?

      Richard introduced her to the board members. Focused on clenching her thigh muscles in an attempt to minimize their bulk, Sabrina struggled to absorb their names.

      Richard pulled out a green velvet-upholstered chair for her, the other side of the table from the others. He took his seat at the head, which meant she now had five people staring at her. Outranked by age, number and severity of demeanor, Sabrina felt like a five-year-old who’d flunked Finger Painting 101.

      “I’m honored that the announcement of my appointment was important enough to bring you all here.” She laughed nervously.

      Richard didn’t offer her coffee, the way he had at previous meetings—Sabrina looked longingly at the pot on the sideboard. Behind the coffee, through glass-fronted cabinet doors, she saw an array of spirits. A stiff whiskey held sudden appeal.

      “You’ll remember,” Richard began, “my mentioning that your appointment would need to be ratified by the board.”

      “I recall your describing it as a formality,” she said.

      His gaze slid away. Sabrina got a hollow feeling behind her ribs.

      Maybe because she’d just had her first personal conversation with Jake in five years, a saying of his father’s popped into her head. If you want orchids, don’t plant camellias.

      If she wanted this job, she couldn’t afford to joke, or to skirt around the topic.

      “Is there a problem with my appointment?” Sabrina asked. “Because I am one hundred percent committed to the trust and to what you’re—we’re—trying to do. As you said, Richard, my past injuries and my public profile make me the ideal candidate.”

      Richard’s mouth pulled back in a smile that was more grimace, as if he didn’t appreciate her excellent memory. “The board’s thinking with regard to public profile has, uh, changed. We’re now thinking of a specific kind of profile.” He sent a silent appeal to his colleagues.

      The silver-haired woman spoke up. “The Injured Kids Education Trust is at a crucial juncture.”

       So is my life.

      Silver Hair continued, “With the election coming up, this is our big chance to lobby for funds for the school and to create awareness at the local and national levels. We believe we need a front person with more—” her gazed flicked to the table, as if she could see right through the mahogany to 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 СКАЧАТЬ