Abby Gaines – Her So-Called Fiancé (страница 2)

“He’s not here, I’m your chauffeur.”

“I need to—” A glance at the reporters told her no one wanted to hear her stand up for herself. All the interest was in Jake, who was already shepherding her through the crowd. “I haven’t picked up my suitcase,” she protested.

“I’ll have one of my staff get it.”

His black Alfa Romeo was parked right outside the terminal, where only taxis and rental-car shuttles were allowed. Jake paid off the guy minding the Alfa, then held the door open for Sabrina. He jerked his head at her to get in.

“A prospective governor shouldn’t park illegally,” she said.

“You think that’s what’ll lose me the primary?” he asked with an irony she didn’t understand.

She slid into the car, and a minute later Jake was maneuvering through the stop-start terminal traffic with his usual controlled flair. Sabrina didn’t realize she was holding her breath until they passed the Welcome to Atlanta sign on the airport periphery and she let it out.

Jake glanced over at her. “Your skirt’s too long.”

“Are you kidding? Those guys wanted to make mincemeat out of my thighs.” Ugh, the words conjured an unpleasant image; Sabrina squirmed in her seat. “You can’t blame me for covering up.”

“Avoidance doesn’t work. Confronting challenges head-on is the only way to win the respect of the media.”

It wasn’t the media’s respect she needed at this stage, though it might help with her new job. “I was about to confront those reporters when you butted in.”

He raised his eyebrows. “A simple thank-you will suffice.”

“I can fight my own battles,” she said, striving for a dignity that would put Jake in his place. His place being out of her life.

He snorted. “If you’re trying to tell me you’re no longer Daddy’s helpless little princess…”

Her fingers curled in her lap. “Did you see my father at the airport?” she demanded. “You know, given half a chance, he would have been there, browbeating those guys. I can get past this on my own.”

“Why break the habit of a lifetime now?” Visibly, Jake bit down on further criticism. Which wasn’t like him. He was the one person who didn’t pull his punches with her.

“Why were you at the airport instead of Tyler?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

Typical Jake, keeping information to himself, treating her as if she was an infant. And not a very smart one at that. Sabrina feigned a gasp of horror. “You’ve gone over to the dark side!”

At his impatient look, she elaborated. “You came to save me from those reporters—you’ve joined the Coddle Sabrina Merritt League.”

He rolled his eyes. “Never going to happen, sweetheart.”

The sweetheart hovered between them. Sabrina tried to think of a smart comment. Then the hard line of Jake’s mouth curved in something that might have been a grimace, but just might have been…

“What’s with the weird smile?” she asked. “That’s the second one today.”

Immediately, his lips resumed their granite set. “Tyler said I had to be nice,” he admitted.

Tyler was Jake’s cousin. He’d managed to stay close friends with both of them, despite the rift between Jake and Sabrina. She pffed. “I don’t need Tyler championing my cause, and I don’t need you grinning at me.”

“My smile is my best feature,” Jake said. “Seventy percent of voters think so.” Again, that ironic tone.

“A hundred percent of this voter doesn’t agree.” She laced her fingers in her lap. “I count on you being nasty.”

They lapsed into a moment’s silence as he passed a moving truck. “I’m not nasty.”

“Mean, then,” she amended. “I rely on you not to handle me with kid gloves. So don’t go screwing up my world any more than it already is.” She folded her arms and looked out her window at the light industrial area they were passing through.

“So you don’t need your dad, you don’t need Tyler. Do they know you’re flying solo?” He sounded curious rather than sarcastic.

“They’ll figure it out when they see the changes I’m making.” She twisted to face Jake. “Being Miss Georgia has been an empowering experience.”

Another snort—she should have known better than to trust his interest.

“That’s what you said on TV,” he said, “in Las Vegas.”

She pounced. “So you were watching.”

The color that rose above the collar of his striped shirt was some compensation.

“I figured it was a line to impress the judges,” he said.

Sabrina contemplated how, if that had been her strategy, it had been a dismal failure. “Your defense of me at the airport was very touching,” she said, the memory of her humiliation stinging afresh.

“Don’t take it personally, I just told the truth. You do have great legs.” He turned on the radio, tuned in to a current-affairs show. He’d had enough of this conversation, so apparently it was over.

Sabrina hit the off button; Jake’s head jerked in her direction. “I meant,” she said, “the bit where you said I’m beautiful inside and out.”

His lips clamped together, then parted just enough for him to mutter, “I got carried away with my own rhetoric.”

“A common pitfall for politicians.”

No reply. Just the jump of a muscle in his cheek as he returned his focus to the road.

The buzz of her cell phone had Sabrina rummaging through her purse. One glance at the display and she stuffed the phone back into the jumble of makeup and tissues.

“Reporter?” Jake asked.

“My father.”

“Don’t you want to remind him how you don’t need him anymore?”

“He’ll soon see that.” Her dad’s impeccable sources would have reached him in Dallas where he was playing golf this weekend. He would know she was back and would be intent on shielding her, comforting her. Yet he would deny with his last breath that he had no respect for his youngest daughter—plenty of love, but no faith in her capabilities. Why had she let him, and everyone else, get away with that attitude for so long?

Sabrina realized Jake had taken a turn away from the direction of Buckhead, the exclusive area of Atlanta where they’d both grown up. “Hey, where are you going?”

“My place.”

Her heart jolted, the way it had the first time he’d said those words to her, years ago. “Excuse me?” That came out high, panicky. Because no way could he be planning on doing what they’d done back then. Could he?

“I want to talk to you.”

Talk. Sabrina’s pulse slowed. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind.

“Without the risk of one of your sisters barging in,” Jake added.

Sabrina swallowed, licked her lips. “You and I don’t talk.”

Technically, they talked often. Their families were close friends, they met at so many social occasions, it would be impossible to maintain the level of hostility that had consumed them five years ago.

To ease those social connections, they’d fallen into a kind of barbed banter that let them express their dislike in a way that didn’t discomfit other people. Everyone knew their history, no one expected them to be pals. Except Tyler, who, for an intelligent man, had a naive view of their potential for reconciliation.

But they didn’t have private, personal conversations—Sabrina couldn’t remember when she’d last been alone with Jake. Correction, she wished she couldn’t remember.

“Don’t you think it’s time to forgive and forget?” Jake said. “Time we started talking again?”

Jake Warrington, the man who never did anything that didn’t serve his ambition, wanted to be friends? She didn’t even have to think about it. “Nope, I’m good for a few more years.”

His mouth twitched. She looked away. “I want to go home now.” Home. Sabrina had moved back in with her dad when she won the Miss Georgia title. For her security, her father had insisted. He would argue when she told him she was moving out, but this time she would stand firm.

Jake kept driving in the wrong direction.

“This is kidnapping,” she pointed out.

“Only if I ask for a ransom and threaten to cut off your fingers.” He accelerated to get through a light before it turned red. “I’ll deliver you back to Daddy after we talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“I need your help.” He made a face, as if the words tasted of arsenic.