Fugitive Fiancée by Kristin Gabriel

appeal to him anymore. It seemed to magnify the emptiness inside of him.
    His good intentions were rewarded when he found the apple pie sitting on the counter. The flaky, golden-brown crust was etched with little hearts. Worry niggled at him.
    Were the hearts a message? Had Mimi been having some fantasies of her own? His heart skipped a beat at the thought. Part of him liked the idea. Another part of him worried that her fiancé would show up with a shotgun and demand his woman back. Garrett had already been shot once this year because of a woman. That was more than enough for him.
    â€œYou’re back.”
    He turned to see Mimi framed in the kitchen door. She’d wrapped herself in his blue terry-cloth robe, and her face was flushed from her shower. Her blond hair hung in ringlets around her head, and her blue eyes looked all soft and dewy.
    His body’s instant response to her appearance took him off guard. He turned to the pie on the counter,pulling out a knife from the drawer to cut himself a thick slab. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
    â€œI borrowed your robe,” she said, moving closer to him. “I hope you don’t mind.”
    â€œNo problem,” he said, envying a robe for the first time in his life.
    She wrapped her hands around the collar and pulled it tighter. “It’s chilly in here.”
    â€œYou’ll be warmer when you get dressed.” He carried his pie to the kitchen table and sat down, making a concerted effort not to look at her.
    â€œIs something wrong?” she asked softly.
    â€œIt’s been a hell of a day,” he muttered, digging into his pie. No doubt his night was ruined, as well. He wouldn’t get any sleep with images of her in his head.
    She padded to the table and took a seat opposite him. “I had a visitor while you were gone.”
    He let the sweet and spicy flavors of the apple pie linger on his tongue. “Who?”
    â€œYour…neighbor. Venna. She’s the one who made the pie.”
    His fork froze in midair. Well, that explained the hearts. It also made him realize that his day could have been worse. He could have arrived home and found Venna Schwab encamped in his kitchen.
    Mimi licked her lips. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
    His brows drew together at the question. “No. I don’t think so.”
    She took a deep breath. “Something about Venna?”
    He forked up another bite of pie. “No.”
    Mimi fingered the collar of his robe, plucking at the tiny terry-cloth strands. His gaze lingered for a moment, mesmerized by the delicate, creamy skin outlined by the vee of the robe. She looked so soft. So warm.
    â€œGarrett?”
    He blinked and looked at her. A rare flush prickled his cheeks at the turn his thoughts had taken. Damn. He had to get out of here. He was losing control, and Garrett Lord never lost control. “What?”
    Mimi leaned forward. A big mistake. The robe gapped slightly at the movement, and he could see the generous curve of one breast. His breath caught and his body grew unbearably tight.
    â€œVenna told me you asked her to marry you.”
    He barely registered her words, too entranced by the drop of water trickling down her neck, past her collarbone, into the vee of her breasts. Pushing his chair back, he hastily rose to his feet. “I need to go check the horses. Help yourself to the chicken.”
    â€œBut…”
    He was out the door before she got another word out of her mouth. Rain pelted him, soaking through his clothes, but he didn’t dare go back for his slicker. Not when he was so close to the edge of losing control. Not when he wanted to pull her against him and see if the sizzle of that first kiss could erupt into an inferno.
    He ran the last few steps to the barn, diving through the door and spooking the horses and the barn swallows already settled in for the night. Raindrops battered against the tin