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The Bride, The Trucker And The Great Escape
Suzanne McMinn
BRIDE ON BOARDReluctant bride Andie Conroy refused to marry a man who loved her father's influence more than her! But with a churchful of impatient guests, she needed a quick getaway–and trucker Troy Armstrong was at the right place at the right time….Before Troy knew it, a fugitive bride was stuffing herself and her wedding gown into his rig and ordering him to drive. Troy had never fancied himself a knight, but this damsel expected nothing less!He had ten days with her before he delivered Andie to her new life. Just enough time for a princess and a trucker to fall in love?
“I need some time to think.” (#u12a2eaab-be0f-502a-9e52-cb895ca3db9e)Letter to Reader (#uad1080bb-19a4-5cd2-84ee-128433bdb76e)Title Page (#uabf5b3ba-b5f1-50cb-a85e-5561f21f45c9)Dedication (#ufc5aa519-5bb0-59c7-ab23-a36c78e483b3)About the Author (#u605283f4-d018-519b-a408-287127d90229)Chapter One (#ua7785fa2-b426-583a-bf82-f579c508b58a)Chapter Two (#u10b052b6-203c-59af-91e7-27f3930b9861)Chapter Three (#uf26f41ed-151f-5049-af24-95370fa34289)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I need some time to think.”
Andie sighed. “I need to get away, that’s all.”
“There has to be somewhere else you could think besides my truck,” Troy said. “Let me take you somewhere—”
“No!” Andie knew good and well there wasn’t one single place she could go where her parents wouldn’t find her and turn on the pressure. “Look, if you won’t take me with you—”
“What? What are you going to do if I don’t take you with me?”
“I’ll get someone else to help me. I’m sure somebody else will pick me up.”
Troy’s gut tightened. He imagined pretty Andie standing on the side of the road in her wedding dress with her thumb out.
And some stranger stopping and taking her in. She could end up attacked, or worse.
He pulled the truck back into gear and headed for the highway, cursing under his breath all the way. He was behind schedule already. He was irritated. And he was stuck with a sexpot in a bridal gown who wouldn’t even tell him her last name, for Pete’s sake.
It was going to be a long trip.
Dear Reader,
To ring in 1998—Romance-styte!—we’ve got some new voices and some exciting new love stories from the authors you love.
Valerie Parv is best known for her Harlequin Romance and Presents novels, but The Billionaire’s Baby Chase, this month’s compelling FABULOUS FATHERS title, marks her commanding return to Silhouette! This billionaire daddy is pure alpha male...and no one—not even the heroine!—will keep him from his long-lost daughter....
Doreen Roberts’s sparkling new title, In Love with the Boss, features the classic boss/secretary theme. Discover how a no-nonsense temp catches the eye—and heart—of her wealthy brooding boss. If you want to laugh out loud, don’t miss Terry Essig’s What the Nursery Needs... In this charming story, what the heroine needs is the right man to make a baby! Hmm...
A disillusioned rancher finds himself thinking, Say You’ll Stay and Marry Me, when he falls for the beautiful wanderer who is stranded on his ranch in this emotional tale by Patti Standard. And, believe me, if you think The Bride, the Trucker and the Great Escape sounds fun, just wait till you read this engaging romantic adventure by Suzanne McMinn. And in The Sheriff with the Wyoming-Size Heart by Kathy Jacobson, emotions run high as a small-town lawman and a woman with secrets try to give romance a chance....
And there’s much more to come in 1998! I hope you enjoy our selections this month—and every month.
Happy New Year!
Joan Marlow Golan
Senior Editor
Silhouette Books
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
The Bride, The Trucker And The Great Escape
Suzanne McMinn
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To my parents,
Ross and Norma Dye,
who passed on to me their creativity
and their love of books.
I love you.
SUZANNE McMINN lives in a small town in Texas. She always dreamed of being a writer, so she feels like she’s living in a fantasy these days. And with a real life including a husband, three young children and a scary mountain of laundry that seems to grow all by itself, she needs an active fantasy life to keep her going! She hopes her readers enjoy coming along for the ride.
Between loads of laundry, Suzanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached at: P.O. Box 12, Granbury, TX 76048.
Chapter One
She had to escape!
Andrea Conroy hitched up the cathedral-length train of her satin wedding gown to her hips and peered out through the narrowly opened dressing room door. The hallway outside stood blessedly empty.
Ears straining, Andie caught the sound of hushed voices from the church vestibule. She had to hurry.
They’d be back—soon—to check on her again. To make sure nothing went wrong with what had been called, by at least one Washington, D.C., society columnist, the wedding of the year.
Her pulse pounding, Andie blinked back the tears that threatened. The wedding of the year was a sham. A horrible, painful sham.
But she didn’t have time to cry now. She swallowed over the thick lump in her throat and swiped at her eyes with a trembling hand.
There was no way on God’s green earth she could go through with the marriage her domineering father had maneuvered her into with Phillip Masterson, an up-and-coming, power hungry capital city lawyer. She’d end up just like her mother—nothing more than a decorative ornament at her husband’s high-powered dinner parties.
A sound from the end of the hall sent Andie ducking backward, pulling the door shut again. She leaned with her ear pressed against the wood, listening.
The click-click of high-heeled shoes came toward her. The footsteps stopped outside her door and a light tap followed.
“Andrea, dear? May I come in?”
Her mother’s expensive perfume filtered into the dressing room. It was only the finest for Lillian Conroy—in cosmetics, fashions, automobiles. She was chic and refined and perfect at all times, a flawless complement to her husband, the esteemed Maryland senator William Conroy IV.
It was a cruel trick of fate that unconventional Andie had been born to such parents. She straightened, and her nervous thoughts found verification in the gilt-framed mirror covering one entire wall of the plush dressing room. Her dark, defiant, curly locks were already breaking free of the restraining lace headband with its attached tulle veil. No amount of makeup could hide her pixie freckles.
The gown felt like a straitjacket, the expensive high-heeled shoes like torture devices. She’d already snagged the delicate hosiery when she’d broken one of her fingernails.
She couldn’t go through with this.
“No, Mother!” Andie cried. Then she realized how she must have sounded, and she hastened to repair the damage. “I mean, not right now. I—I just need a few moments to myself.”
Enough time to run.
“Are you all right, Andrea?”
“I’m fine, Mother. Really.” Andie said what her mother wanted to hear. Her mother liked things to go as planned. Meaning, as William Conroy planned.
Andie looked at her slim gold watch. She was to be wed in ten minutes! “Please, just give me five minutes,” she begged. Her voice cracked. Nerves jitterbugged in her stomach.
Why had she let things go this far?
She knew the answer to her own question. Nobody said no to William Conroy. Who knew that better than Andie? She’d been saying no to her father for twenty-five years, and he never listened. She might as well have been mute her entire life for all the attention he’d ever paid to her wants, her desires, her needs.
She’d tried to conform. She’d even tried going to law school, when teaching art to kids was all she’d ever wanted to do.
She’d tried to be the dutiful, model daughter her father wanted. She’d tried—
Andie squeezed her eyelids tight, emotion stinging them. She’d tried to make him love her.
She swallowed thickly, and her eyes flashed open. She shook her head.
She’d tried—and she was through trying. She’d been censured and scolded and pushed for the last time. This was too much. She couldn’t marry Phillip Masterson! Here, in the church, in her dress, the stark reality of what she was about to do had hit her.
Every inch of her slender five-foot-five body recoiled from this marriage. She didn’t love Phillip. Not in the least. And he didn’t love her. He loved her father’s power and position. Not her.
“Are you sure, dear?” Her mother sounded worried.
Andie almost broke down and started bawling. She imagined her mother sitting in the front row of the church sanctuary with hundreds of attendees behind her, waiting for her little girl to walk down the aisle—
“You know how many of your father’s friends and colleagues are here,” Lillian went on. “These are important people. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”
Andie blew out a disgusted breath. Of course. Her mother wasn’t worried about her. Her mother was concerned that she might inconvenience her father’s stuffy society connections.
“I’m fine, Mother,” Andie repeated. Familiar hurt swallowed her whole.
“All right, dear. I’m going to sit down now. Your father will be here to get you in five minutes. Next time I see you, you’ll be Mrs. Phillip Masterson!” she said, making the title sound like a privilege beyond compare. Then she clicked away in her high-heeled shoes, leaving her heavy, luxurious scent behind her.
Silence. With shaking hands, Andie ripped off the ostentatious engagement ring with which Phillip had presented her, and set it on the dressing table.
She cracked the door. The hallway was empty again. Nervous fear all but closed up her throat. She could barely breathe.
She ran a dry tongue over her lips.
Now!
Quickly, she took the first small step out of the dressing room. Reaching around, she turned the lock in the door and pulled it shut behind her. Hopefully, it would take them a few minutes to get in and figure out she’d disappeared.
She heard her father’s deep voice boom out from the vestibule. Five minutes! He was supposed to give her five minutes!
No surprise that he wasn’t going to pay attention to her request.
Andie scooped up the gown’s long train and dashed down the hall, in the opposite direction from her father’s voice. At the end of the hall was an exterior side door. She pushed through, looking over her shoulder. No one was in the hall.
No one saw her leave!
With her heart lurching and her breaths coming in quick hitches of panic, Andie ran from the huge, downtown church into the June heat. Into freedom.
Tall oaks dotted the grounds. Parked cars filled the lot to the side of the building. Unfortunately, Andie didn’t have the key to a single one. She and her parents had arrived at the majestic Washington, D.C., church by limo.
How could she possibly get away? What had she been thinking?
In another minute, they were going to discover she was missing. They’d come looking for her...and find her. Her father would be furious.
Another of Andie’s silly scrapes!
Andie’s gaze darted all around, searching for hope. The light Saturday afternoon traffic—shoppers and tourists—flew up and down the broad avenue. As she watched, a mammoth, midnight-blue tractor-trailer rig pulled over to the curb in front of several parked cars.
A man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, emerged from the cab, a black dog at his heels. The man strolled onto the manicured grass while the dog ambled over to a tree to do its business.
Andie’s gaze continued its hungry scan. Beyond the eighteen-wheeler, in the distance, she saw a taxi heading in her direction. It was like a gift from God.
She sped over the grass toward the street. Her veil flew out behind her. Her dress flapped wildly. She ignored the confused glance the man shot her.
The dog barked and started to follow her. She heard the man call him back.
The taxi approached in the middle lane. Andie sprinted through two parked cars and into the street.
“Taxi!” She extended her arm as she shouted, desperately willing it to pull over.
She had no idea where she was going. And she didn’t care. She just wanted to get as far away from Phillip Masterson and William Conroy as she possibly could.
The taxi zoomed past.
Andie stopped dead in her tracks, immediate, desperate tears clogging her vision. Despair washed over her.
A low-slung black sports car suddenly rose before her eyes, coming out of nowhere at a high rate of speed, in the very lane in which she stood. Andie stayed rooted to the spot, frozen, shocked, as the car bore down on her.
She screamed.
Troy Armstrong took in the woman as she shrieked in terror, the car racing too fast toward her. Adrenaline bulleted through him.
He rushed at her. Throwing his arms around her tiny waist, he swept her out of danger. She felt light, like a flower. He stumbled backward and they crashed together onto the hard pavement between two parked cars, the woman collapsing atop him.
The black sports car whizzed past.
