Fugitive Fiancée Read online

  Then, two years ago, her father had been diagnosed with colon cancer. Mimi had immediately left her job with the Archives Department of the Houston Metropolitan Research Center and moved home, devoting herself to her widowed father’s care.

  An astute businessman, Rupert Casville was suddenly faced with his own mortality. His illness and frailty terrified Mimi.

  He lost all interest in Casville Industries, leaving everything in the capable hands of his business attorney, Paul Renquist.

  Without his business to occupy his time, her father had focused on continuing the Casville legacy. He soon became obsessed with having grandchildren, and since Mimi was his only child, it was up to her to provide them. Rupert’s obsession only got worse after his remission.

  She bit her lip, remembering her father’s wistful pleas for a grandson. But despite her empathy for him, she’d kept her secret. A secret she’d carried for a decade. Still, a sense of guilt made her agree to go on an endless series of blind dates. But none of the self-absorbed, eligible bachelors her father had found appealed to her.

  At twenty-eight, she no longer expected to find her soul mate. But she was willing to settle for someone she could depend on. A man who shared her desire for children and treated her with respect.

  A man like Paul Renquist.

  He was handsome and charming. A self-made man and a savvy attorney, Paul had efficiently handled every business crisis during her father’s illness. Strong and steady, he had been a solid rock to cling to in her suddenly stormy life.

  Still, his marriage proposal had come as a complete surprise. Mimi had been stunned, since they’d never shared more than a few casual dinner dates. Paul’s reasons for a marriage between them had made so much sense. She hadn’t stood a chance against his polished negotiating skills. Especially when he’d insisted on a prenuptial agreement that would prevent him from receiving any of the Casville millions if they divorced.

  So Mimi had said yes, believing she’d eventually grow to love him.

  Then today, thanks to the ancient ventilation system in the old cathedral, she’d discovered her father had been paying him to romance her all along. Mimi had been alone in the dressing room, fighting off another impending panic attack, when she’d heard their illuminating conversation through the air vent.

  She liked to think it was divine providence.

  She closed her eyes, her head spinning. She’d almost married a man she didn’t love. Almost destroyed her own life, trying to please her father.

  Fleeing her wedding was the first impulsive thing she’d done in her life. For the first time she could remember, she wasn’t standing in the suffocating shadow of the Casville name. And Garrett was the first man who didn’t see dollar signs when he looked at her.

  Not that he wanted to look at her. The man had just ordered her out of his house. He obviously didn’t realize she wasn’t taking orders anymore.

  Only she still wasn’t sure what to do next.

  A dull ache throbbed in her temple as she contemplated her options. No doubt her father and Paul had already started a full-scale search. She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t go to a hotel, either, since she didn’t have any of her credit cards with her.

  More than anything, Mimi needed time to heal. And what better place than on a secluded ranch in the starkly beautiful Texas hill country?

  But first she had to figure out a way to convince Garrett to let her stay.

  “WOMEN,” Garrett muttered under his breath as he marched along the fence line, his way lit by the full moon. “I’ll never understand them.”

  Hubert trotted beside him, emitting a tiny bark as he bounded forward to keep up with Garrett’s long stride.

  “It’s like they go out of their way to drive a man crazy.” Garrett looked at his dog. “Take my advice, Hubert. Don’t ever get mixed up with some female. Even if she has eyes like the Texas sky and hair like clover honey.”

  Hubert yelped, then drew up his front paw and limped on three legs. Garrett bent and pulled a sandbur from the tender pad of the dog’s small paw. Then he straightened and leaned against the corral fence, propping one boot on the bottom rail.

  He gazed at the canopy of stars glittering across the big Texas sky. “Of all the haylofts in all the world, why did she have to end up in mine?”

  Hubert barked at him, wagging his cropped tail.

  Garrett sighed, wondering when he’d become such a coldhearted son of a bitch. Ordering the woman off his ranch hadn’t been one of his finer moments. He stared at the moonlit horizon, letting the nippy breeze cool his temper.

  Women had plagued him all day. First his sister Lana, inviting him to dinner. Suspicious of the spark of mischief in her eye, he’d finally gotten her to confess that she planned to invite a date for him, as well. He’d turned down her invitation, but she hadn’t made it easy. Lana could be almost as stubborn as Garrett when she set her mind to something.

  Then Venna had come after him again, still hell-bent on roping him into matrimony. He couldn’t decide if she was incredibly determined or just delusional. The last thing he wanted was a woman looking for husband number three.

  Then there was Mimi.

  Mimi. Ever since he’d caught her in his hayloft, she’d been like a sandbur under his skin. Only she didn’t cause him any pain. Far from it. She made him remember how damn long it had been since he’d held a woman in his arms. How soft and warm and wonderful women could be.

  If only they weren’t so damn much trouble.

  He’d tried ignoring her, insulting her and intimidating her, but she hadn’t taken the hint. He wanted her off his ranch and out of his life. If she wouldn’t go willingly, then he’d fling her over his shoulder and haul her to Austin himself.

  “Come on, Hubert,” Garrett said, turning to the house. “Time to take Mimi back where she belongs.”

  He marched to the house and through the front door, ready to meet any resistance. But his resolve faded when he saw her curled up on the sofa, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. He pushed the door shut behind him, a little louder than necessary, but she didn’t even stir.

  Her wedding dress was in a heap on the floor. He moved closer to the sofa, noticing the shadows under her eyes. Then his gaze flicked to her bare feet, peeking out beneath the hem of her long silk slip. The raw scratches and livid welts on the soles of her feet looked even worse than before.

  The fire popped in the hearth, shooting a spray of orange sparks and making shadows dance on the walls. Watching her sleep, Garrett wondered why he’d let her upset him so much. Mimi was no threat to him. She was some other man’s problem. She was also in obviously desperate straits if she’d trust a total stranger not to take advantage of her. He doubted either of his sisters would ever end up in such a crazy situation, but if they did, he hoped no one would kick them out into the cold night.

  Picking up the lonestar quilt off the back of the sofa, he gently draped it over her sleeping form, then he switched off the living room light.

  “First thing in the morning,” he vowed to himself. “She’s outta here.”

  Austin American Statesman

  WEDDING BELLE BLUES

  Mimi Casville, daughter of prominent Austin industrialist Rupert Casville, ran out of St. Mary’s Cathedral in Austin yesterday, just moments before she was to exchange vows with local attorney Paul Renquist.

  The runaway bride wore a stunning gown of oyster silk with a sweetheart-style bodice and delicate spaghetti straps. Hand-sewn pearls accented the box-pleated skirt and cathedral train.

  The groom, resplendent in a black cutaway coat and tails designed by the incomparable Oscar de la Renta, refused to comment. The champagne reception went on as scheduled, absent the unwedded couple. All four hundred guests dined on Rockefeller oysters, Russian caviar and juicy rumors regarding the fractured nuptials.

  Official word is that the bride succumbed to a sudden illness and that the wedding will be rescheduled in the near future. Unofficially, sour
ces say that the bride fled the scene in her red convertible and hasn’t been seen since.

  Destination of Ms. Casville unknown. Stay tuned to this column for further updates.

  —Bettina Collingsworth

  “DID YOU SEE this crap?”

  Paul Renquist looked up from his breakfast plate as Rupert Casville marched into the formal dining room, waving a newspaper in his hand. Paul had spent the night at the Casville mansion, hoping to talk some sense into Mimi when she returned home.

  Only she hadn’t come home.

  “It’s in the society section, Rupert. Nobody who matters reads that.”

  “I sure as hell read it.” Rupert slapped the newspaper on the polished oak table. “Who is this Bettina Collingsworth woman, anyway?”

  “She reports all the high-profile weddings in Austin.”

  “Obviously, she missed her calling. She should be writing UFO reports for the tabloids.” Rupert pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I can’t believe a newspaper like the Austin American Statesman would print such melodramatic tripe. I’m tempted to buy the damn newspaper myself just so I can fire this dingbat.”

  Paul picked up his fork. “I called Mrs. Collingsworth this morning and asked her to print a retraction.”

  “And?”

  “And she refused.” Paul hesitated as a maid brought in Rupert’s breakfast. Maria only spoke a few words of English, or at least that’s what she claimed. Paul didn’t believe in taking chances, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “This looks wonderful, Maria,” Rupert said, unfolding his napkin. “Thank you.”

  She nodded, then, with a dismissive glance at Paul, walked out of the room.

  A hot flush crept up his neck. He hated the way the servants looked at him, as if he’d crawled into the Casville mansion on his belly. He’d put his foot down when Mimi had wanted to invite them to the wedding.

  Was that why she’d left him at the altar?

  He shook his head, still baffled by her behavior. For the last six months, he’d bent over backward to accommodate her every need, grant her every wish. He’d even agreed to her outrageous request not to consummate their relationship until the wedding night.

  What more did she want?

  Rupert reached for the salt and pepper, liberally sprinkling his plate with both. 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.