“I’m not getting married.”

“I gathered that much,” Jonah said dryly. “So what are you going to do instead?”

“I’m…leaving.” Kathryn caught at his sleeve. “Please, I’m desperate. Will you help me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Tell me exactly what’s in it for me.”

She looked up at him and let her voice go sultry. “What do you want?” In a rush of gratitude, Kathryn said, “I’ll give you anything you want….”

Leigh Michaels has always loved happy endings. Even when she was a child, if a book’s conclusion didn’t please her, she’d make up one of her own. And though she always wanted to write fiction, she very sensibly planned to earn her living as a newspaper reporter. That career didn’t work out, however, and she found she ended up writing for Harlequin instead—in the kind of happy ending only a romance novelist could dream up!

Leigh likes to hear from her readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 935, Ottumwa, Iowa 52501-0935, U.S.A. Or e-mail: leighmichael@franklin.lisco.net

Books by Leigh Michaels

HARLEQUIN ROMANCE®

3628—THE CORPORATE WIFE

3637—THE BRIDAL SWAP

3656—A CONVENIENT AFFAIR

3672—HIS TROPHY WIFE

Backwards Honeymoon
Leigh Michaels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

STILL holding his comb, Antoine looked at Kathryn in the mirror and tugged at a glossy black curl until it descended to lie just right across the white lace shoulder of her gown. Frowning just a little, he stood back to study his client’s hair once more, then reached for a spray bottle and began to mist the errant curl.

Kathryn stirred irritably. “Aren’t you finished yet?”

“Have patience, mademoiselle. All must be perfection when you go to meet your bridegroom.” Antoine snapped his fingers. “The headdress!”

An assistant sprang to attention and handed him a delicate wreath of orange blossom. Trailing from it, so delicate that it almost floated, was a floor-length veil edged with lace that matched that on the gown. As his skillful fingers pinned the wreath in place, Antoine murmured, “Mademoiselle is anxious for her wedding, yes?”

“Mademoiselle is anxious to have it over with,” Kathryn said under her breath.

“Dear, dear.” Antoine made a sort of clucking noise with his tongue as he inserted the last hairpin. “There. All is complete. Rest assured I will be waiting for you at the top of the stairs to make certain every hair is in place.”

In that case, Kathryn thought, she should probably allow an extra half hour to get from her bedroom to the temporary altar set up in the ballroom downstairs.

Antoine’s assistant started to gather up his tools, and Kathryn’s maid swooped down on her to make certain that the hairdresser hadn’t put a nick in her makeup. Kathryn fended her off. “It’s all right, Elsa. Go down to the kitchen, please, and bring me a cup of tea.”

“I will call and have it brought up. Though I wish you wouldn’t take the chance of spilling tea on that lovely gown, Miss Kathryn.”

Kathryn’s hands clenched on the edge of her dressing table. “All right, skip the tea.” It took effort to keep her voice pleasant. “Just go away. After all the confusion, I’d like to have a few minutes to myself, Elsa.”

“Of course, miss.” The maid turned away, pausing to hold the door for the assistant.

He laid the last special comb in its fitted tray and picked up the heavy case. “Temper tantrums,” he muttered to the maid as he passed her in the doorway. “All brides have ’em. Trust me. She’s just excited at being so close to getting a wedding ring.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes. Excited was hardly the word she’d have used to describe herself; twitchy was more like it. She supposed it was only natural to be on edge, after a full day of being poked and prodded and treated like a doll. And not the treasured porcelain kind, either, but the sort a small child dragged around by the arm and endlessly dressed and undressed…

At last the room was quiet. She stood up, automatically shaking out the full skirt of the satin and lace gown, but she didn’t look at it in the mirror. Someone else would make sure, before she descended the stairs on her father’s arm to meet Douglas in the ballroom for the ceremony, that each layer was perfectly arranged.

Kathryn didn’t particularly care. She only wanted this wedding—The Wedding of the Century, the newspapers were calling it—to be over.

It wasn’t that she was having doubts, exactly. She’d made her choice logically, considering every possible factor before deciding that Douglas would make a suitable husband—and nothing had happened to change her mind about that. He was everything she’d looked for in a marital partner. Her father approved of him; Douglas was already an important cog in Jock Campbell’s business. He was well-mannered and good-looking enough; he knew all the same people she did; he had never raised his hand or even his voice to her; and most important on Kathryn’s list, he had enough money of his own that he didn’t need to acquire hers.

No, she was certainly not having doubts about Douglas. It was simply the endless round of preparations that had worn her down.

Still, she reflected, going through all the motions of a formal wedding was little enough to do to please her father. If he wanted her to be the perfect June bride, then Kathryn would comply. And—incidentally—she would give him the means to pay back his social obligations to at least five hundred people by inviting them to her wedding.

Kathryn sighed. It wasn’t like her to be so cynical. It must simply be that she was exhausted from the months of decisions and fittings and parties. But it would soon be over now.

She pushed open the French doors that led to the balcony and looked out cautiously. Her room was at the back of the house, and all the guests were supposed to be herded in through the front. But she was careful to stay close to the doors and away from the edge of the balcony, so no one could catch a glimpse of her even if they’d strayed out of place.

Even without hanging over the railing, though, she could at least take a deep, calming breath. It felt like the first one she’d managed all day. The air was unseasonably warm for northern Minnesota; if she’d realized that summer would come so early this year, she might have chosen a lighter weight of satin for her dress. Dancing in this costume was going to be—

The French doors of the room next to hers were open just a crack, and the murmur of masculine voices rubbed her nerves. Even on her own balcony she wasn’t alone; apparently someone had assigned the next room for some of the ushers to use.

She tried to close out the sound, but the chatter which had surrounded her all day seemed to have sensitized her hearing; she couldn’t help picking out words from the seemingly aimless conversation next door.

“And just in time, too,” a man’s voice said. “Another month and Doug would really have been on the ropes.”

Kathryn heard only a murmur in answer; the speaker must have had his back toward the balcony doors.

“Yeah,” the first man said. “He had to borrow the money from me to rent his tux because his credit cards are all maxed.” Another murmur. “Because he’s been on a losing streak, that’s why. He was hoping that last trip to Vegas—you know, when he was supposed to be in San Diego schmoozing customers for Jock—would straighten him out so he might not have to go through with this after all. But instead he ended up owing the casinos, too, and you know how they are about collecting debts. If this wedding had been scheduled for next month instead, Miss Ice Cube Campbell might find herself marrying a guy with two broken knees.”

It can’t be, Kathryn told herself. They can’t be talking about Douglas.

But there was no one else they could have been speaking of. And there had been a flat, calm note in the usher’s voice which convinced her he was speaking the truth—or at least giving the facts as he saw them. Still, he could simply be wrong, couldn’t he? Perhaps he was misinterpreting what Douglas had said and done…

The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t go away.

She slipped back into her room and rang the bell for her maid. The few minutes that she waited for Elsa were the longest in Kathryn’s memory.

Douglas, she thought. A gambler so compulsive that he saw a trip to Las Vegas as a way to pay off his previous bets? She’d always thought him a careful spender. A man so broke that he couldn’t afford to rent a tux for his wedding? She’d seen him in formal clothes a number of times; it had never occurred to her that he might not own a tuxedo. A man so desperate…

That he’d lie and scheme to marry me, Kathryn thought.

Elsa tapped on the bedroom door and came in, looking hesitant. Kathryn gulped down her first instinct, which was to send Elsa shouting for Jock Campbell to come upstairs to his daughter right now. There was no sense in sending up an alarm, after all—and no one knew better than Kathryn how quickly a tasty bit of news could spread through the Campbell household. Let Elsa guess what was on her mind, and the butler, the gardener—even the paperboy—would probably know it before Jock Campbell did.

“Please ask my father to come upstairs now,” she said calmly.

Elsa looked confused. “But he’s greeting the guests, Miss Kathryn. And there’s still plenty of time before the wedding. You told me yourself that he’d be so sentimental about giving you away that you didn’t want him to come up till you were ready to walk down the aisle—”

“I’ve changed my mind, and I’d like to spend a little time with my father. Please tell him that.”

Elsa nodded and went out again.

Kathryn paced the floor. More than once her hand slipped under her veil to the back of her neck, to the top of the row of tiny satin-covered buttons which fastened the dress. Those fifty buttons running straight down her spine—the mark of a really professional dressmaker—had added a good bit to the price of her wedding gown. Now the irony was that she couldn’t get out of the dress by herself….

She pulled herself up short. Exactly when, she wondered, had she decided that no matter what her father said, she was not going through with this wedding?

With a firm tap on the door, Jock Campbell poked his head in. “Is it safe?”

Kathryn turned to face him. “Daddy—” She bit her lip, not knowing what to say next. Why hadn’t she thought this through before summoning him?

“How beautiful you are, my dear. As pretty as your mother, and that’s saying a lot. Elsa seemed to think you were feeling a bit lonely up here. Wanted the old man’s company, hmm?”

“I wanted to talk to you, yes. I’m…having second thoughts.”

“About getting married? Oh, now, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

“About Douglas, actually. Daddy….”

“Fine man, Douglas. Everything I could ask for in a son-in-law.”

Kathryn took a deep breath. “You’ve never had any doubts at all about him?”

Was there a flicker of hesitation in his eyes? “No, dear,” he said firmly. “And what you’re suffering now isn’t doubts, or even second thoughts. It’s nerves, pure and simple. Your mother had them, too. She even sent for me, just minutes before our wedding was to start. Told me she wanted to call it off. She didn’t, of course—and look how we turned out. Happy as clams for twenty-five years—and would be happy yet if it wasn’t for…” His voice choked, as it always did when he referred to his wife’s death.

Kathryn watched him strive for control. He had to work even harder at it than usual, but then this was an especially emotional day.

“Daddy,” she said. “I’m really sorry to upset things, but this is not just nerves.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Kathryn.”

It was a rare day when she heard that stern note of finality in her father’s voice, and something inside Kathryn curled up tight.

“Every bride has nerves,” he said flatly. “If they all acted on the feeling, the institution of marriage would be extinct. I’m going downstairs to get Douglas, and after the two of you have talked, I will accept your apology for doubting my judgment in this matter, and then we’ll go on with a wedding.”

“No!” The word was out before Kathryn could even try to keep the panic out of her voice. She saw Jock’s frown and said more quietly, “No. Please don’t bring him up here.”

“Are you afraid to face him, Kathryn?”

Yes. “I…Of course not.” She groped for an excuse, anything that might do. “I just don’t want him to see my dress before I get to the altar.”

How dumb can you be? she asked. She’d just neatly contradicted herself—saying one moment that she didn’t want to proceed with the wedding at all, then the next proclaiming that the groom wasn’t allowed to see the bride before the ceremony…

It was apparent that Jock Campbell hadn’t missed the idiocy of the comment. He didn’t even comment, just shook his head and went out.

Great job, Kathryn. Next time why don’t you just stab yourself in the heart?

And now the clock was running. Jock would walk down the stairs at his normal relaxed pace, run his eye over the crowd to seek out his prospective son-in-law, pull Douglas aside in a casual way so as not to raise the concerns of the surrounding guests, and escort him upstairs. She had no more than twenty minutes, Kathryn estimated, before the two of them would be at her door.

She could already hear Douglas’s smooth, patrician voice denying any misdeeds, claiming shock and surprise that anyone could make such an accusation. And what was she going to tell her father? That she chose to believe what she’d overheard from an usher rather than accept the reassurances of the man she was supposed to be trusting with her life?

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t face down the two of them together. Which left only one alternative.

Kathryn tore open her closet, grabbed jeans, a pair of sneakers, and the first blouse her hand touched, and plunged into the bathroom. Putting both hands to the back of her neck, she clutched at the wedding gown, braced herself, and pulled hard. Buttons flew everywhere; for a moment the ceramic-tiled bathroom sounded like it was full of exploding popcorn.

She stepped out of the gown and wadded it up in the bathtub in order to leave herself enough room to step into her jeans. Tearing off her veil, she flung it over the door of the shower, then kicked off her white satin shoes and thrust her feet into the sneakers. Only then did she remember that she didn’t have a cent on her, so—listening carefully for noises from the hall—she tiptoed back across the bedroom to where her honeymoon outfit was spread across the bed, dropped her engagement ring atop it, and grabbed the tiny evening purse that lay beside the dress. It was all she had time to take.

Still buttoning her blouse, she ducked back into the bathroom, pausing only to lock the door behind her, and went on through into the sitting room beyond. It opened into a secondary hall, around the corner from the main one which led to the grand staircase. There was no one in sight; she took the back staircase and peered around the corner at the bottom into the kitchen, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw it empty. All the employees must have already gone to stand at the back of the ballroom in order to watch the ceremony.

A ceremony which was not going to happen.

Kathryn paused for a moment outside the back door, then headed for cover behind the nearest large tree and started to work her way across the garden trunk by trunk. Her plan was so simple it could be summed up in two words: Get away. She didn’t care where, and she didn’t care how.

Her heartbeat slowed a bit as she increased her distance from the house, and with the first hurdle behind her, she turned her attention to figuring out how to get off the estate. Jock Campbell’s big Georgian-style house didn’t look a bit like a moated castle, but with its high brick walls and iron gates it was nearly as impregnable.

And getting out wasn’t much easier than getting in—especially today, when the guards would be extra alert in order to secure all the wedding gifts on the premises, to say nothing of protecting five hundred guests who were all wearing their best jewelry. And in a very few minutes, as soon as Jock discovered her abandoned wedding gown, it would become even more difficult to circumvent the security arrangements.

She was chewing on that, trying to figure out the weak spot in her father’s defenses, when she popped out from behind a hedge into the narrow driveway beside the gardener’s cottage and tripped over a pair of legs sticking out from under an old car.

A growl came from underneath, and a body, lying on a rolling board, slid into sight.

“What the hell—”

Kathryn’s gaze slid slowly from the man’s dirt-splotched sneakers past a pair of jeans so worn that they were barely blue and across a grease-smeared T-shirt. She focused on a pair of broad shoulders, a tanned, rugged-looking face, a thatch of unruly dark hair, and a pair of deep brown eyes that snapped with aggravation.

“Can’t you watch where you’re walking?” he grumbled.

“Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people who can’t walk and think at the same time.” He sat up, and suddenly his gaze sharpened. “You’re supposed to be getting married just about now.”

Kathryn looked through him. “You must have mistaken me for someone else.”

“Really? Then what’s that bit of orange blossom doing stuck in your hair?”

Her fingers found the stray petals and plucked them loose, then began to seek out hairpins, destroying the formal hairstyle Antoine had worked so hard to produce.

“Katie Mae Campbell in the flesh,” the man mused.

Kathryn bristled. “Nobody has called me that since I was six years old, and I do not plan to make an exception anytime soon. Miss Campbell will do. Or, if you insist, you can call me Miss Kathryn.”

“And as I’m saying it, I should pull my forelock respectfully like a good peasant, I suppose.” He rose slowly, with a panther’s grace, and reached for a rag lying on the car’s fender to wipe his hands.

He was taller than she’d thought; Kathryn found herself looking a long way up. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Jonah Clarke. My father is your gardener, in case you don’t know.”

“Of course I know his name. That explains why you recognized orange blossom from seeing a single petal.”

“He’d be proud of me. Also he’d be charmed that you came to visit, only he’s not here. He’s over at the big house to attend your wedding. Which sort of brings us back to where we started.”

It was none of his business, of course. “Why aren’t you with him?” The question wasn’t entirely a delaying tactic; Kathryn was honestly curious.

“I wasn’t invited. I’m only here to visit him for the day.” He tossed the rag aside. “So tell me, Miss Kathryn—what gives?”

“I’m not getting married.”

“I gathered that much,” he said dryly. “So what are you going to do instead?”

“I’m…leaving.”

“I see. Well, if you’re looking for your Porsche, I think the garage is still on the other side of the property.”

She bit her lip and looked at him, debating. She was down to minutes, if even that long, before the alarm went up, and standing here talking was getting her nowhere at all.

“Jonah,” she began. “You know perfectly well that I—”

“Mr. Clarke will do.” He mimicked her tone. “Or, if you insist, you can call me…well, let’s stick to Mr. Clarke. It’s much tidier.”

“Mr. Clarke,” she said firmly. “You grew up here on the estate, am I right?”

He nodded. He looked wary, she thought.

“Then you must know if there’s any way out of this place other than through the front gates.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know me, but you’re assuming that I was the sort who would go sneaking out over the walls at night.”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “Of course I did.”

“How?”

“Oh, no. I’m not telling you.”

She caught at his sleeve. “Please,” she said. “I’m desperate, here. I have to get outside these walls, right now. Will you help me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Tell me exactly what’s in it for me—besides a whole lot of grief when your dad catches up with me—and I’ll consider it.”

She looked up at him and let her voice go sultry. “What do you want?”

“What are you offer—” He broke off and shrugged. “Oh, forget it. Katie Mae, you are too dangerous to be let loose on the world.”

“I told you not to call me—” She paused. “Come to think of it, you can call me anything you want to if you’ll just help me get over the wall.”

“Will going through it be good enough?” He pushed open the side door of the garage and leaned into the dark interior. Then he dangled a large, old-fashioned key in front of her.

In a rush of gratitude, Kathryn said, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’ll think it over and let you know. Come on.”

His loose-limbed stride ate up the ground; Kathryn had trouble keeping up with him as he plunged deeper into the woods which filled a good part of the Campbell estate.

“So where are you headed?” he asked over his shoulder.

“You don’t think I’d tell you, surely.”

“That probably means you don’t know.”

“No, it means I expect you’d turn around and sell the information to my father.”

“Sure I will. I’ll march right up to him and say, ‘Jock, old buddy, I can tell you where your daughter went, and I know because she confided in me while I was hoisting her over the wall.’ I’m sure he’d reward me, probably right after he slugged me in the face.”

“What about the key? I thought that meant there was a door or something.”

“You don’t think I’d tell him all my secrets, do you? He’d have it sealed up in a minute, and who knows—I might want it again someday.”

“Thinking of moving back in with your father, are you?” she asked sweetly.

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, but you never know what might come up.” He stopped abruptly. “Here.”

Kathryn could see the vine-shrouded wall beyond the last row of trees, but she couldn’t see anything that resembled a gate or a door. “Where?”

“Good disguise, isn’t it?” he said cheerfully. “The vines were here when I found this place, but it took me a couple of years to train them just right so they’d hide the door without breaking when it was opened. Let’s see if they still do.” He pulled back a curtaining vine to reveal an arch-topped door built of heavy planks.

The key slid silently into place and the lock opened with a discreet click. On the other side of the thick wall hung another curtain of vines. Kathryn ducked underneath it and looked out across an expanse of pine woods that spread downhill as far as she could see, full of undergrowth and brambles. She looked uncertainly out across the dappled hillside. “Um…where am I?”

“Some Boy Scout you’d make. About five hundred yards through there is the state highway.”

She bit her lip. “I suppose once I get there I could hitchhike.”

“I’d suggest you hurry, or you’ll probably be trying to thumb a ride with some of your own wedding guests.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “Maybe you should come with me.”

He said something under his breath. She was rather glad she hadn’t heard it clearly.

“Jonah…I mean, Mr. Clarke…you won’t ever be able to collect whatever I owe you for helping me escape, if you don’t know where I went.”

The silence stretched out endlessly.

“One thing’s certain,” he muttered. “It’s becoming obvious that I like pain. All right, I’m in for the adventure.”

She smiled in triumph. “Then let’s lock the gate and get going.”

Jonah shook his head. “Not so fast. I may be a masochist, but I’m not an idiot. I was checked into the estate on the guards’ list this morning. If I’m not checked out the same way, all hell will break loose and they’ll be looking for both of us.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Along with half a million other things you haven’t considered, I’ll bet. Anyway, I don’t fancy being shot at by the FBI because they think I’m holding you hostage.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Did anyone see you leaving?”

She shook her head.

“Did you tell anybody you were going?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then they have no way of knowing if this stunt was your idea or someone else’s. Look, we haven’t got time to argue. You take off through the trees—just walk toward the sunset and you’ll come out near a little roadside park. I’m going to go back in, get my car, and leave just as I normally would. I’ll probably beat you to the park, but if I’m not there, hang around back in the trees till I show up.” He pulled the vines back and stepped into the wall.

“Jonah,” she said softly, and he turned. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until we’ve gotten somewhere.” A moment later the door closed with a creak and he was gone.

Kathryn walked as fast as she could, aiming for the brilliant sliver which was all she could see of the sun. It seemed to be sinking faster than it ever had before. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if darkness fell while she was still in the woods. She didn’t think the small vial of pepper spray which she always carried in even the smallest handbag would be much help at all against a bear or a cougar or any of Minnesota’s other wildlife.

But before she realized that the pine woods had been gradually thinning, she stumbled out of the shadows and found herself at the edge of a park so tiny it was nothing more than a U-shaped lane with a picnic table and a garbage can. It wasn’t as late as she had feared; now that she was out of the woods she could see that the sun was only starting to drop below the horizon.

Parked in the lane was the old car Jonah Clarke had been working on in his father’s driveway, and Jonah was leaning over the picnic table with a map spread out in front of him. She saw that he’d stopped long enough to change his greasy T-shirt for a pullover that matched his eyes.

Kathryn almost ran the last few steps. “You’re a marvel! How did you know I’d come out exactly here?”

He looked up from the map. “Considering that it was you doing the navigating, it was nothing more than a lucky guess. I was starting to wonder if you’d had second thoughts and decided to just follow the wall around to the front gates instead.”

She shook her head firmly. “And leave you waiting here, wondering what happened to me?”

“It was a pleasant daydream, anyway,” Jonah mused. “Come on, let’s get going. Want a sandwich?”

“No, thank you—but if you have some water I wouldn’t turn it down.”

“In the car.”

She slid into the passenger seat and he handed her a bottle of spring water. She took a long, satisfying swallow.

He’d started the engine but made no move to put the car into gear.

“Where are we going?” Kathryn asked.

“Well, it sort of depends on what you want to accomplish. But since there’s nothing north of here but the Canadian border—”

“I have my passport,” she said brightly.

He stared at her. “You leave home with nothing except the clothes you’re wearing but you take a passport?”

“Well, not deliberately. I mean, I didn’t consciously think about leaving the country. But Douglas was going to take me to Bermuda for our honeymoon, so of course my passport was in my handbag.” She dangled the tiny purse in front of him and thought, I wonder how Douglas intended to pay for Bermuda. Or was he expecting that I would?

Jonah grunted. “Nevertheless, I think we’ll go south. It’s three hours to the Twin Cities, so you’ll have plenty of time to tell me what you’re planning to do.”

I’ll do that. Just as soon as I figure it out myself. “Three hours? It never takes me that long to get to the Cities.”

“That’s because you take the main highway, which is exactly the first place they’d look for us.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

He shot a sideways look at her. “There’s obviously a good deal you haven’t thought about, Katie Mae.”

“I guess I’m really lucky you decided to come along,” she admitted. “For one thing, they’ll be looking for a woman alone, not a couple. It’s perfect.”

“Perfect? That’s one possible point of view. Not necessarily mine. You can start by telling me what prompted this sudden decision to leave home. At least, I hope you aren’t going to tell me you’ve been planning this escape for weeks.”

The dry note in his voice made her smile a little. “No, it was quite sudden. What it boils down to is that I found out just this afternoon that Douglas didn’t want to marry me, but he desperately needed my money.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quivered just a little. Putting it into words, admitting what a gullible fool she’d been, didn’t come easily.

“Your father’s money, you mean.”

“No, my money,” she corrected. “When Daddy incorporated his restaurant chain and started selling franchises to people all over the country who wanted to run Katie Mae’s Kitchens, he put thirty percent of the company in my name.”

“And you were how old then?”

Kathryn considered. “Three. Maybe four.”

“Great idea. A major stockholder who can’t spell kitchen, much less know her way around one.”

She decided to ignore him. “At any rate, Douglas was forcing himself to marry me so he could use my money to pay off his gambling debts.”

There was a long silence. “You made a good decision,” Jonah said gruffly.

“I’m glad you approve.”

“To dump him, I mean. Running away…well, that’s not so smart. Why didn’t you tell your father what you’d found out? Kick the jerk out and then go right on and dance at your party?”

“I tried,” she said softly.

“Jock didn’t believe you?”

“He trusts Douglas. Just as I did.”

The hiss of the tires on the highway mingled with the throaty hum of the engine to produce a hypnotic murmur. The strain of the day gradually began to melt out of Kathryn’s body, to be replaced by exhausted acceptance.

“I never thought Douglas loved me,” she said, almost to herself. “That was all right, because I didn’t exactly love him, either. But I thought he respected me. Liked me. To find out that he didn’t…that it was just the money again….”

“Again?”

She nodded. “All my life people have been more interested in my money than in me. But it never went this far before. The others weren’t as good as Douglas at covering things up, so it didn’t take as long to discover the truth—that a man who was admiring my every habit and hanging on each word was really eyeing my bank balance instead.”

“It’s happened a lot, then.”

She sighed. “It seems like just about everybody I ever dated. I think that was one of the reasons I wanted to marry Douglas—so it would all be over and I wouldn’t have to guard against fortune hunters anymore.”

“Well, now’s your chance to get away from them. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, and turned to face him. “You’re right. Once in a lifetime.” She took a deep breath. “Jonah Clarke, will you marry me?”

CHAPTER TWO

JONAH’S hand jerked on the steering wheel and the car swerved across the center line and halfway into the oncoming lane. He pulled it firmly back to safety and reminded himself that no matter what kind of kooky question his passenger asked, it was no excuse to take his attention off the road even for an instant.

“It’s fortunate that eighteen-wheeler wasn’t any closer,” Kathryn said coolly.

Almost automatically, Jonah defended himself. “It was a good quarter of a mile away.”

“And closing fast. What’s the matter, did I shock you?”

“You could say that. What the hell are you talking about, asking if I’ll marry you?”

She shifted her shoulder belt and wriggled a little. “I thought the question was pretty clear, myself. What didn’t you understand?”

“For one thing, how you got from having a once-ina-lifetime opportunity to dump the fortune hunters to issuing a marriage proposal.”

Kathryn shrugged. “It wasn’t much of a leap. I just figured you were thinking along the same lines.”

“Me?” Jonah knew he sounded appalled, and he didn’t care. “I was suggesting that the rich little girl who attracts all the riffraff could disappear right now. You could go somewhere new and just be plain Kathryn Campbell instead, and then you’d be sure that any man who came buzzing around you wasn’t after the money, because he wouldn’t know about it.”

“Would I be sure?” she asked, sounding almost wistful. “How could I ever be certain that he hadn’t done some secret research?”

She had a point, Jonah supposed. There were lots of ways to find people’s secrets, and anyone who was interested in marrying money would certainly know how to sniff out the details. “So change your name. If you’d go wait tables at a Katie Mae’s for a while, you’d soon learn to tell who was serious and who wasn’t.”

“Hide out in my father’s own restaurant chain?”

“He certainly wouldn’t be looking for you there. But I suppose you couldn’t live without your luxuries for longer than a day or two, and it would be more difficult to conceal your financial circumstances if you were driving a Porsche and wearing designer suits.”

“How much do you want to bet that I can’t do without all the luxuries? Besides, I don’t own a Porsche, I’ve never owned a Porsche, and I don’t intend to own—”

“Then no doubt you prefer Jaguars. Don’t change the subject, Katie. What the devil were you thinking, asking me a question like that? Or do you ask every man you meet to marry you?”

“Don’t be silly. I only thought that you might be…well, everybody could use a little extra money, right?”

“I suppose so,” Jonah admitted. “But—”

“So I thought we could make some sort of a deal. I do owe you, you know.”

“You said I could have my choice, remember?” He frowned. “You can’t actually be serious. Because I think I heard you say that you’d pay me to marry you, in order to avoid being chased for your money—and that makes no sense at all.”

“Yes, it does. It would be clean and up front, with no sneaking and no lying.” She looked out the window. “Oh, just forget it.”

He’d like to forget it. But the question she’d asked was still echoing through his mind. Along with it circled something else she’d said, in that wistful way of hers: That was one of the reasons I wanted to marry Douglas, so it would all be over and I wouldn’t have to guard against fortune hunters anymore.

Now he could see the convoluted, Katie-Mae-Campbell sort of logic in the plan. It ranked right up there with her escape stunt.

“You’re saying that you’d rather marry an honest fortune hunter,” he said slowly, “than one who’s trying to hide himself behind a pretense of loving you.”

“At least I’d know the truth. Really know it, not just suspect.” To his surprise, there was no defensiveness in her voice, only a note of sadness. “And knowing up front would be a lot better than being made to feel like a fool in the end.”

At that instant, Jonah wanted—more than anything else in the world—to be able to wipe her unhappiness away. But that, he told himself severely, was clearly not one of his saner impulses.

“So what will you do next?” he asked casually.

“Now that you’ve turned me down? I don’t know. Probably look for someone else who likes the deal better.”

The woman was completely self-destructive. How she had managed to make it this far was beyond him. Out on her own, alone in the world—she’d be shark bait, no question about it. But even worse, she was actually going to invite the sharks to come closer and circle around….

He took a deep breath and tried to look at things from her perspective. Her nickname was a byword across the nation. Her picture—actually it was a photo of her as a child, but there was no question the resemblance was still a strong one—was a trademarked symbol. How could she ever be absolutely certain that any man loved her for herself and not her money?

“How did you decide on Douglas?” he asked.

For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer. “His family mined iron ore in the Mesabi Range. Only instead of reinvesting everything in iron, they bought banks. His share of the family wealth should have been worth a whole lot more than my thirty percent of Katie Mae’s Kitchens.”

“Ah,” he said on a note of discovery. “So you were something of a fortune hunter yourself!”

“I thought someone who had his own money wouldn’t be particularly interested in collecting more. Obviously it wasn’t a workable plan, so I’ll try something else.” She was staring straight ahead as she said softly, “I’m going to marry somebody. I’d much rather it be you, Jonah.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Jonah said dryly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

She shot a glance at him. “So what? I knew an awful lot about Douglas. Probably just about everything there was to know—except for the gambling debts.”

“I take an occasional five-dollar flyer on a sports pool,” he warned.

Kathryn shrugged. “Big deal. Besides, I know the important things. I know your father. I know you grew up on the estate.”

“If you think that makes us similar, take another look. There’s a great deal of distance between the big house and the gardener’s cottage.”

“Of course there is. But just because you were there, you can understand—more than anyone else can—how it was for me, growing up there.”

He cast his mind back over the years. Not that he’d seen her often—and perhaps that was the point she was trying to make. Katie Mae Campbell had not only been isolated by walls and gates, but by her social status. Even the few other children who lived on the Campbell estate had been discouraged from making any contact with her. Jonah himself had never tried; the few times he’d encountered little Katie Mae had been completely accidental. But then he’d been half a dozen years older and much too mature—in his own estimation, at least—to be interested in a little girl with glossy black curls and wide, dark blue eyes. A girl who was always dressed in ruffles and who looked as if she’d never dream of climbing a tree.

How lonely she must have been, he thought.

“Your parents meant well,” he said. “Keeping you protected like that. After that kidnaping threat—”

“I know they had to protect me.” The resignation in her voice abruptly gave way to something like triumph. “See? You do understand how it was.”

“A little, maybe.”

“And I know that you’re kind,” she said softly, “or you wouldn’t have helped me get outside the walls in the first place. Very kind, or you wouldn’t be helping me right now.”

Lunatic, he thought, would be a more accurate description.

He let the silence lengthen and finally said, “I think we should find a pay phone so you can call your father. At least let him know you’re safe.”

She laughed. “And you talk about me not being logical?”

“If you didn’t even leave a note—”

“There wasn’t time.”

“He’ll be worried about you.”

“Jonah, that place is so wired for sound that he could trace me within fifteen seconds of answering the phone.”

“He has good reason for that. And maybe I can figure a way to get around it.”

“If you can do that, you’re the greatest electronics genius of your day. Even twenty years ago, he had a good enough bugging system that—” Her voice caught.

Jonah nodded. “That he told the FBI precisely where to find the extortionists who’d phoned him and threatened to snatch you if he didn’t pay them off. I remember. That incident is exactly why you shouldn’t leave him in suspense this time.”

“The system is a whole lot more sensitive now.”

“I’ll figure something out—at least a way to get a message to him. He’s not young anymore, Katie. Don’t make him suffer unnecessary stress.”

“Who are you, anyway? His doctor?” She sighed. “All right, but it’s on your head. If your great idea fails and he finds me, I’m holding you responsible.”

“Maybe he’ll be so glad to hear from you that you’ll be headed straight home of your own free will.”

She didn’t answer that, but the tilt of her eyebrows spoke volumes. A little later, she said, “This deal we’ve been talking over—what about if I offer you fifteen percent of Katie Mae’s Kitchens?”

“Fifteen percent of the company or fifteen percent of your share? Not that I’m indicating interest either way, you understand. It’s just idle curiosity.”

She looked at him sideways. “Oh, sure, you’re just curious. I meant of the company. That leaves me fifteen percent. My father still holds forty and the rest of the shares are owned by a bunch of investors, so it wouldn’t change anything, really. I’d still be a major stockholder.”

Jonah shook his head. “You need to learn to negotiate, Katie. Pick your man carefully, approach him right, and you could probably settle for five percent. Certainly for ten.”

She raised her chin a fraction. “I’d rather be fair up front and get things settled quickly.”

Shark bait, he thought. She’s doomed.

Fifteen minutes later, Jonah slowed for a small town. “I wonder if there’s a library here.”

“Probably not one that’s open at this hour on a Saturday night. What do you want to look up, anyway?”

“Libraries have public-access computers, sweetheart. If nothing else, we can send your father an e-mail. He does have an e-mail address, doesn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. His newest toy is a gadget the size of a remote control that lets him download his mail anywhere. He’s in love with that thing. But can’t e-mail messages be traced?”

“Not this one. Not by the time I get done with it.”

“In that case, there’s an easier solution.” She pointed at a low building across the highway.

“A coffeehouse?”

“Look at the neon sign in the window.”

“Internet access. Perfect.” He swung the car into the parking lot.

The coffeehouse wasn’t particularly busy, but Jonah guided Kathryn to a booth instead of toward the row of computers along one side of the room. When she gave him a questioning look, he said, “I could use a cup of coffee. Besides, we’d be more likely to be noticed if we went straight for the computer. Noticed—and remembered, in case anyone happens to come along and ask. What would you like?”

“Whatever you’re getting for yourself.”

“I’m ordering a large, plain, house blend—black, no sugar. If you’d rather have something fancy—”

Kathryn shook her head. “I wish you’d get over this idea that I only like something if it’s expensive and exotic.”

He gave the order to the waitress and added casually, “By the way, what’s special about the computer in the corner over there? The one that has its own little room?”

The waitress looked over her shoulder as if she wasn’t sure which one he meant. “It’s wired for sound,” she said. “We’ve got some customers who can’t type, so they like that one. They can just talk to it.”

Jonah summoned his best smile. “Can you put me on the waiting list to use it?”

The waitress blinked and gulped. “I’ll make sure you’re next.”

He turned back to find Kathryn looking at him thoughtfully.

“Don’t start talking about your bargain here,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to. I do have some discretion. I also am capable of feeling shame, which you obviously aren’t. Flirting with the waitress like that—”

He was mildly indignant. “I didn’t hurt her in the process of getting what I wanted.”

“Maybe not, but she’s going to be hanging around staring at you and soaking up every word you say as long as you sit here. If you didn’t want to be noticed—and remembered—you’ve gone about it exactly wrong.”

Their coffee arrived at breakneck speed, and the waitress confided, “The guy who’s using the computer now is in here every night, so I told him his time was up in five minutes.”

“Thanks,” Jonah said.

Kathryn only raised her eyebrows and sipped her coffee.

Once they were in the enclosed booth, it took him hardly any time at all to set up the Internet connection so it would operate like a regular telephone. “Here.” He handed the headset microphone to Kathryn. “You talk in here, but your father’s voice will come out of the speakers.”

She hesitated. “And you’re certain he won’t know where I’m calling from?”

“If his system can figure out anything at all—which I doubt—it’ll tell him you’re in Seattle. Go on, dial the phone.”

She clicked out the number of Jock Campbell’s private phone line on the screen display, and just moments later heard her father’s voice. “Daddy?”

“Kathryn! Thank God. Where are you, darling? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Daddy.”

“And you’re coming straight home, aren’t you? Douglas is here with me. He’s upset, of course, and he doesn’t understand why you left anymore than I do, but he’s quite willing to let bygones be bygones.”

Kathryn shot a look up at Jonah, who had perched on the arm of her chair. “So he’s willing to marry me even though I ran away?”

“Of course he is, darling.”

In the background she heard an Ivy League accent. “Tell her we’ve both made mistakes. Of course I’ll forgive her.”

“Well, that’s too bad for him,” Kathryn said crisply, “because I’m not willing to forgive his. You might ask him about his last trip to Las Vegas, Daddy—the one when he was supposed to be somewhere else. And while you’re at it, you might take a really careful look at Douglas’s finances.”

Jock sounded puzzled. “What was that, Kathryn? I only heard part of that. Your voice was breaking up, as if there was some electronic interference.”

Jonah muttered, “Hang up.”

“Is there someone there with you, darling?” Jock’s voice sharpened into suspicion. “Is someone telling you what to say?”

“No, Daddy. I just called to tell you not to worry about me. But I won’t be coming home for a while.”

“Kathryn—”

She clicked the disconnect button and turned to Jonah. “There. I tried to be reasonable. Are you satisfied?”

He nodded absently. He was thinking hard.

“Good.” She led the way back to their booth. “Now that I’ve set Daddy’s mind at rest—so to speak—what’s next?”

He took a long swallow of coffee. “What else do you have in that purse besides a passport?”

“Credit card. Makeup. Nail file. That kind of thing.”

It figured, he thought. She carried everything she considered essential, but not much that was useful. “Any actual money?”

“Not much. I’ve never been in the habit of carrying cash.”

He supposed that for most of her life she hadn’t needed to. There would have always been someone with her to pay the bill or sign the charge ticket. “That’s too bad, because I don’t have a lot on me at the moment, either. Your credit card accounts are probably already being watched, so if there’s a transaction, Jock will know it before the ink’s dry. I’ve got a card, too, but it won’t be good for much longer, either.”

“Why not? Nobody knows you’re with me.”

“Jock will know soon enough, honey. They’ll be questioning everybody who was on the estate today. And when they find out that I left about the same time you did, and that nobody’s seen me since…. Well, it never did take Jock Campbell long to add two and two and come up with half a dozen. We are going to need to get hold of some serious cash.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re going to be on the run for a while. I wish the library was open.”

She frowned a little and said very gently, as if she was humoring him, “If you’re thinking of somewhere to rob, wouldn’t it be better to choose a bank?”

“Thank you for that excellent advice, Katie Mae,” he said dryly. “I’m not planning to steal the overdue book fines, I want some information—because at the moment, I don’t know how far we’ll have to go, or even in what direction.”

“For what?” She was beginning to sound exasperated.

“To find a state…” he set his coffee cup down with a firm click and looked at her very deliberately “…where we won’t have to jump through a lot of hoops in order to get married.”

Kathryn choked on a mouthful of coffee. “You mean…you…”

“I’ll marry you, yes. Or are you backing out of the deal?”

Am I? She’d have expected to feel relief at his announcement, not this sudden wave of blinding panic. This was what she’d wanted, she told herself desperately. What she’d asked for. But now…

It’s just the suddenness of it, she told herself. It’s the same good idea it always was. I’m just surprised that he changed his mind, that’s all.

Of course, said a little voice in the back of her brain, fifteen percent of a national restaurant chain was well worth changing one’s mind for.

But wasn’t that the whole point? She knew exactly why he was marrying her; that absolute certainty was why she’d made the offer in the first place.

“No,” she said as firmly as she could manage. “I’m not backing out.”

“Then from here on out, we’re partners. Fifty-fifty in everything, right?” He held out a hand.

She laid her palm against his and felt an almost electrical zing from the contact.

“What am I thinking? I don’t need a library,” he muttered, and only an instant after taking her hand, he pulled away. Before Kathryn could gather her wits, he’d crossed the room again to a vacant computer station.

She sipped her coffee. It was cold now, but she didn’t care.

Married. She could almost hear her father roaring at the news that within hours of her broken engagement she was seriously planning to marry a different man.

A very different man, she thought. With Jonah, there were no false promises, no crossed fingers behind the back, no faked declarations of love. Just honesty and openness. And kindness, of course. Perhaps that was the most important factor of all, in Kathryn’s estimation. Few men would brave Jock Campbell’s wrath in order to help his daughter, even with the promise of a good chunk of his empire dangling before them. Jonah—despite his firsthand experience of what the man was capable of—hadn’t hesitated. And he’d done a good deal of helping even before she’d offered him the deal of a lifetime.

Well, Kathryn corrected, he hadn’t hesitated much.

Jonah came back to the table, folding a paper napkin. “This may be a little trickier than I thought. It appears that the easiest places to get married in this country are a long way from Minnesota.”

“Well, putting some distance between us and my father might not be a bad idea.”

“A very long way. We don’t have enough cash to buy airline tickets, and if we used a credit card, Jock would know about it long before we reached our destination.”

“He’d probably be waiting for us in the terminal,” Kathryn agreed.

“So it needs to be somewhere within driving distance. However, as far as I can determine, every state around here requires either a waiting period or blood tests or both.”

“I can see why you’d object to the waiting period,” Kathryn said reasonably, “but what’s wrong with blood tests? Are you afraid of needles or something?”

Jonah shook his head. “It’s the uncertain time element that bothers me. It can take days to get a lab report, maybe even longer than the official waiting periods are. And the more time we stay in one place—”

“The more likely it is that Daddy will catch up with us.”

“Of course, he can’t really prevent you from doing anything you want,” Jonah pointed out. “You’re an adult and you can marry whomever you choose, even if Jock’s standing right there yelling at you about it.”

Kathryn made a face. “Not a pretty picture. I think I’d rather present him with a fait accompli.”

“That’s what I expected you to say. So the best choice I’ve found is Nevada.”

“Las Vegas?” She was horrified.

“What’s wrong with it?”

She bit her lip. “I guess it’s a silly objection, but apparently it’s one of Douglas’s favorite playgrounds. And it’s not what I’d call within driving distance, either. Wouldn’t we be better off—”

“To stay right here and play sitting ducks? There isn’t a courthouse in Minnesota that will be open again until Monday, and then there’s a five-day waiting period. How certain are you that Jock wouldn’t hear about his daughter applying for a marriage license in Minnesota—especially since it’s the second one in just a few weeks?”

“You have a point,” Kathryn admitted.

“We might as well spend the weekend on the road. We don’t have to go all the way to Vegas, anyway, because anywhere inside the state line will do.”

Kathryn sighed. “I suppose, if it’s the best we can do, we should get started.”

Back in the car, he thrust a road map at her and said, “Plot me a route to Wisconsin.”

Kathryn stared at him. “Wisconsin? I wasn’t the best geography student on the planet, but the last time I looked Wisconsin was due east of here, and Nevada is southwest. Why on earth do you want to go to Wisconsin?”

“To rob that bank you were talking about earlier.” He flicked the turn signal and pulled onto the highway. He must have seen her expression, however, for he laughed. “Not literally, Katie. But we must get hold of some cash, so we’re going to have to use the credit cards. If we use them along the way, we’ll be giving Jock directions on how to follow us. So we’ll go the opposite direction, create a false trail, then double back and make our run for Nevada.”

She unfolded the map. “Don’t tell me,” she said as she buried her nose in it, trying to make out the fine print. “In your day job, you’re a spy. Right?”

“Darn, you guessed my secret. Now the director will have to assassinate us both.”

She put the map down. “You’re excited about this,” she accused. “You’re enjoying it.”

“Well…yeah, I suppose I am. Come on, Katie, this is an adventure we can tell our kids about.”

Kathryn gulped.

He shot a look at her. “What’s the matter? Hadn’t you thought that far ahead yet?”

“I guess not,” she admitted.

“Well, you’ll have at least twenty-four hours to think it over before it’s too late to change your mind,” he said easily. “Probably more like thirty-six.”

She turned back to the map, but she hardly saw it; the lines appeared to be squiggly.

Kids, she thought.

She and Douglas had never talked about the subject, but somehow she knew that they would have discussed having children, not kids. She’d never thought about the difference before, but suddenly it loomed as wide as the Gulf of Mexico. Having children with Douglas would have seemed almost clinical. Having kids with Jonah, on the other hand….

Would be one heck of a lot of fun, whispered a wicked little voice.

But she’d think about all that later. She ran a finger across the map. “This would have been easier if we’d started out in the right direction, you know.”

“Well, if I’d realized when we left Duluth that we weren’t headed for the Cities…” He sounded a bit absentminded.

“Okay. There’s a place coming up where we can turn onto highway—”

But Jonah was obviously not listening. His gaze was fixed on the rearview mirror. “Damn,” he said under his breath. “I didn’t think even Jock could move this fast. But I’m not speeding, so—”

Kathryn twisted around to look. Behind them, precisely keeping pace, was a highway patrol car with the emergency lights running. And as she watched in disbelief, the siren began to wail, and the officer flashed his headlights, signaling them to pull off to the side of the road.

CHAPTER THREE

JONAH fumbled for his wallet and extracted his driver’s license. “Don’t say anything, Katie. Keep your head turned away—but not completely, because that looks suspicious.”

She gave him an innocently wide-eyed look. “And I suppose you don’t want me to make jokes about kidnappers, either?”

Jonah rolled down the window as the officer approached with his flashlight playing over the car.

“Good evening, sir,” the officer said pleasantly. “Your driver’s license and car registration, please.” He took the documents, and his gaze slid easily from the photo on the license to Jonah’s face and back. “Thank you, sir. I’ve been following you for a while. I presume you’re not aware that your taillights are working only intermittently.”

Taillights? This was only about taillights? Kathryn tried to choke back a gasp of relief.

“I certainly wasn’t, Officer,” Jonah said.

“I’ll have to issue you a ticket for driving with defective equipment, of course. I’ll be right back with the paperwork for you to sign.”

“That was lucky,” Kathryn breathed as he walked toward the cruiser.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high.”

“But if he stopped us because of the lights, then he couldn’t have been looking specifically for us.”

“Don’t bet on it. Maybe he made up the bit about the lights as an excuse to check us out.”

“How could he just make it up?”

“It’s the ‘working intermittently’ part that makes me suspicious, because that’s not easy to check. The lights could be working perfectly right now, but I can’t exactly argue about something he says happened ten minutes ago and miles down the road.”

The officer returned with a ticket pad in hand. “If you’ll sign here, sir.” He tore off the top layer and handed it to Jonah. “You realize, of course, that the law says the car cannot be driven further until the defect is fixed.”

Jonah sounded calmer than Kathryn felt. “I suppose that means we’ll have to get a tow truck out here. Since we are sitting on the edge of the highway—”

“You’re actually in luck, sir. It could take an hour to get a tow truck out here.”

“That’s lucky?” Kathryn said under her breath.

“But the rules do allow me some discretion. Since you’re only a couple of miles from a truck stop, my best judgment is that it would be better to let you drive that far than to leave you here on the side of the road for an hour or more to be a hazard to other traffic.”

“I guess it is lucky,” Kathryn muttered.

“If you’ll proceed straight ahead to the first stop sign, the truck stop will be on your left at the junction with the main highway. They have some good mechanics in the garage there, and I think they usually have someone working on Sunday to handle emergencies. I’ll follow you in, so you don’t need to worry about traffic coming up behind you.”

“That’s very kind of you, Officer.” Jonah’s voice sounded a bit hollow.

He started the engine and waited till the officer was back in his patrol car. Then he pulled onto the highway and cautiously accelerated. The patrol car fell in behind them, emergency lights still running.

“A police escort into town,” Kathryn said. “Just what we wanted. So now do you believe the lights aren’t working right?”

“It doesn’t matter much what I think, because that ticket says the wiring will have to be checked out by an approved mechanic before we can go anywhere. And that means we’re stuck till at least tomorrow morning. Just keep your fingers crossed that we’re the only emergency repair waiting when the garage opens.”

Kathryn groaned, then brightened. “There’s the stop sign. So that must be…” She looked across a complex of buildings, lit by a glare of high-powered street lamps. “The truck stop,” she said faintly. “But where’s the town?”

“Probably a few more miles down the road. Truck stops have a habit of locating where there are trucks—on the highways, outside the towns.”

“Thank you very much for that lesson in economics, Mr. Clarke. I can’t be seeing right—does that sign really say this place is called West Podunk?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. There’s one in Iowa called Boondocks. This is actually a pretty big one. Restaurant, gas station, motel…”

“Jonah,” she said with a tinge of panic. “The restaurant is a Katie Mae’s.”

“Honey, they’re in every third town in the entire country. We were bound to run into one sooner or later. That set of doors must be the garage.” He took a parking spot outside and got out of the car, leaving the engine running.

The officer pulled alongside, called a cheerful goodbye, and was gone.

Kathryn scrambled out, as well, and joined Jonah at the back of the car. “It’s pretty dark back here,” she pointed out.

“I noticed.” Jonah jiggled the fender, and the taillights flickered on and back off as if on command. He shook his head. “He’s right, there’s a short somewhere. Dammit, I’d have sworn this thing was in first-class condition.”

“And that’s why you were under it this afternoon, I suppose. Because it’s in such good shape.”

“I was changing the oil.”

Kathryn refrained from further comment, but only by biting her tongue. “Now what do we do?”

“We pool our resources, go into the restaurant and order a meal, and hope that we can afford to check into the motel. Then we’ll work on figuring out how we’re going to pay the mechanic.” Jonah shut off the engine and locked the car. “I suppose things could be worse.”

“They certainly could. You could be in jail right now, and I could be looking for a lawyer to bail you out.”

“Taking things fifty-fifty,” Jonah said with a note of approval. “That’s my girl. And if you couldn’t find a lawyer, you could always use your nail file and break me out.”

They had enough cash to pay for their bacon and eggs, the biggest breakfast Kathryn had ever seen at any time of day. But it was apparent from a quick phone call to the motel that their resources would not stretch to cover a room.

“Then we’ll sleep in the car,” Kathryn said bravely, pushing her half-full plate away.

Jonah refilled his coffee cup. “Have you ever tried that? Not just dozing, I mean, but actually spending the night?”

“Well, no.”

“Believe me, you’ll be doing enough sleeping in the car on the way to Nevada. You don’t want to start any sooner than you have to. I told them to hold the room.”

“But if we can’t pay for it—”

“The way things stand at the moment, we can’t pay for the car repairs, either. We’ll just have to hit the money machine for a cash advance.”

“But that will leave a paper trail.”

“I’d have preferred to wait till we were out of Minnesota, but we don’t have a choice. Since I’m already in the official records as being here, we’ll use my card tonight and keep yours clear till we get to Wisconsin.”

“I thought maybe, with this happening, we’d just skip Wisconsin.”

Jonah shook his head. “With this delay, it’s even more important to lay a red herring for Jock to follow. But money isn’t the only problem we’ve got right now. There’s that ticket, too.”

“Are you still being paranoid about that poor cop? He was only doing his job, Jonah.”

“It’s in the computer now. If your father thinks to ask for a driver’s license check on me, that ticket will pop up—and he’ll know where I am.”

“Why would he do that? He probably doesn’t have any evidence that I’m with you,” Kathryn objected. “You said yourself when the cop pulled us over that you didn’t think Daddy could possibly have put the pieces together yet.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if Jock isn’t exactly suspicious of me, he’s going to want his people to talk to everybody who was on the estate today, to find out what they might have seen. When I turn out to be hard to find, it would be only natural to ask the police to keep a lookout for my car. And if he would happen to do that before we manage to get the lights fixed—”

Kathryn winced. “We’ll be saying ‘Hello, Daddy’ when his helicopter lands in the parking lot.”

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