Free Fiancé at Her Fingertips by Kathleen Bacus

hard to hide feet that big.”
    “Feet? I don’t have big feet!” Debra spluttered, certain any remaining reason she had in reserve had long since fled now that she was discussing her foot size with a man who, with her luck, in addition to having episodic breaks with reality, might entertain a foot fetish as well. “Stop the car. I want out.”
    Lawyer Logan laughed. “How can I stop the car? We’re on the expressway.”
    “Pull off to the side and let me out. Now!”
    “Debra, I can’t let you out along the side of the road. It’s too dangerous. You never know who might pick you up.”
    Debra faked a dry laugh. “Ha, that’s a good one. Listen, buddy, I don’t know you any better than Tom, Dick, or Harry out there on the big road, even though, for reasonsknown only to you, you’re trying to convince others to the contrary. I’ll take my chances with Tom, Dick, and Harry. Now, let me out!”
    “Sorry, I can’t do that, darlin’.”
    Debra slid across to the door and tried the handle, though what she would do if it opened God only knew. They were flying down the interstate at seventy miles an hour.
    Logan smiled. “I knew there was a good reason I had child-safety locks installed,” he said. “Silly me. I thought it was because I hope to fill the Suburban with children someday. Still, it’s nice to have a simulation to test their effectiveness.”
    Debra slammed a hand against the window and was rewarded with a sore palm. “This is kidnapping! I demand you let me out immediately.”
    Logan laughed again. “Kidnapping? You were the one who broke into my vehicle. How could that be construed as kidnapping?”
    “I got in here to find out what kind of nut you are.”
    “Oh, and did you find out?”
    “I already knew you were several reams short of a legal brief. I just wanted irrefutable evidence.”
    “And did you find that evidence?”
    “Only an obsessive-compulsive personality would have a car this clean.”
    He eased the car onto an off-ramp. “All right, I’ll level with you, Ms. Daniels. I am crazy.”
    Debra clutched the back of the seat. This she hadn’t expected.
    “Yep, that’s right, I’m completely wacko.” Lawyer Logan put a finger to his lower lip and made that ridiculous sound one of the Three Stooges was fond of making. “Downright cuckoo. About you, that is. And I guess I’m crazy for feeling that way. At least, that’s the impression you’ve been giving me.”
    Debra was taken aback by the earnest, almost wistful tone of his voice. She met his eyes in the mirror and, to her dismay,saw in them a longing that had been reflected in her own many times. She had to force herself to look away.
    “Look,” she said, in the unenviable position of trying to reason with a lawyer who probably qualified for an emergency mental commitment—or a jail cell—incredible looks and puppy-dog eyes notwithstanding. “I’m sure you’re a very, uh, okay person. I’m not quite sure what made you pose for that photograph, but, hey, it’s America, after all. Land of the free and all that. I can’t begin to understand what kind of crazy coincidence made our lives intersect in this way, but if any of it has been my doing, I apologize for any inconvenience my actions may have caused you. I think it’s best if we put this all behind us and move on. If you’ll let me off somewhere, I’ll call my father to come and pick me up.”
    She vaulted over the seat to the front in case she did have to resort to something drastic, like grabbing the steering wheel or tromping on the brake. She was ready to open the door and bail out when Lawyer Logan pulled the car to a stop. Debra looked up, amazed to find herself back in her parents’ driveway.
    Logan turned in his seat to face her. She caught a whiff of his heavenly cologne. Coupled with the sudden warmth of his gaze, it was a potent combination.
    “Debra, I understand your anger. I should have been more forthright with you about Catrina. I guess I