Her So-Called Fiancé. Abby Gaines

the Atlanta Journal-Constitution, whose ultrahighbrow reputation meant he refused to take an interest in a beauty queen. “They don’t get to say your thighs are chunky without paying you a lot of money.”

      “Dad, stop,” she said, alarmed. Who would believe her father was one of Atlanta’s top lawyers, when he sounded like an ambulance chaser? “I don’t want to sue them.”

      “It’s libel, and we can prove it.”

      She folded her arms and glared at him, relieved to have an excuse to ignore Jake’s glower. “Will proving it involve close-up shots of my thighs, measurement of my body-fat content and expert testimony?” She might not have attended law school, but she knew how lawsuits worked.

      Her father must have picked up on the warning in her tone, because he said with uncharacteristic vagueness, “Well, uh, that sort of technical evidence is generally welcome in cases of this nature.”

      “Dad, my legs are not technical evidence. I’m not suing anyone, I just want to get on with my life.”

      Unaware he was first on the list of people who would soon have to butt out of her affairs, her father beamed. “That’s very generous of you, sweetheart.”

      Jake made a gagging sound.

      “Jake, good to see you.” Jonah clapped him on the shoulder. Sabrina’s father thought Jake was the best thing since the First Amendment. The two men shook hands, both strong, tough and self-controlled. For both, reputation meant everything. It occurred to Sabrina belatedly that her father would be horrified at her faking an engagement. Jake was right, this was a bad idea. She could tell the trust they were dating, as he’d suggested, and that in her excitement she’d jumped the gun on the engagement…

      “Glad you’re running for governor,” Jonah said. “That takes guts in your situation. You’ve got my vote.”

      “Pleased to hear it.” Jake’s voice was strained. “There’s something else I’d like from you, Jonah.”

      “I told Susan I’d be happy to donate. My checkbook’s at home, but I can—”

      “No.” Jake spoke sharply. Then he smiled. A tighter effort than his vote-winning smile, one that didn’t engage his eyes. “I want to ask for Sabrina’s hand in marriage.”