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
