The Sexiest Man Alive: Life and Love on the Lam (A Loveswept Contemporary Romance)
Page 27
That’s when the knives came out.
That’s when the Neiman Marcus girls grasped that a dark horse was streaking up on the outside rail. That’s when the red food coloring was splattered across Fawn’s gown at the oops-it’s-that-time-of-the-month spot; that’s when the cayenne pepper was sprinkled into her blusher to burn her cheeks; that’s when Bet the judges liked your BJs!! was scrawled across her locker in turquoise nail polish.
The evening gown competition was held on the last night of the pageant. Fawn wore a pink beaded dress she’d sewn on her mother’s old sewing machine, dangly earrings she’d made from a crafts store kit, and high-heeled silver sandals bought at a rummage sale.
If you freeze the videos taken at the moment Fawn is announced as the winner, you can catch the naked hostility on the other girls’ faces before they paste on their If it couldn’t be me, I’m glad it’s her masks. If looks were lasers, Fawn would have burst into flames.
Delirious, disbelieving, laughing and crying at the same time—one of those girls who looks beautiful even while weeping—Fawn Fanchon was crowned Miss Quail Hollow on a high school stage that smelled like moldy curtains, handed a Kiwanis Club scholarship check that would pay for her first semester at college, and applauded by an audience weary of cheerleaders and homecoming queens.
Fawn stayed behind afterward for photos, interviews with local reporters, and instructions on her new duties. Then, like a deflating Disney balloon, the magic slowly seeped out of the auditorium. The Miss Quail Hollow Pageant banner fluttered to the floor, the runway was dismantled, the lights winked out one by one.
Fawn walked out of the school and headed toward the parking lot. She was alone. Her dad, who’d promised to be there for the finals, had forgotten about the pageant and was sitting in a bar. She tossed her bouquet onto the bench seat of her truck, a Chevy pickup whose front bumper was held on with baling wire. She was still wearing her evening gown, sash, and tiara as she got in, started the engine, and rolled out of the parking lot.
Her truck was found two days later at the end of a dead-end road in a nearby swamp. Prints from Fawn’s high heels were gouged into a muddy path leading down to a fast-moving creek. Her shoes were found on the banks of the stream, her bouquet in a patch of weeds. The creek was dredged, the swamp was searched, a nationwide Amber Alert was issued. But no trace of Fawn, either alive or dead, was ever found.
Her disappearance would remain a mystery for thirteen years.
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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