Mimi. Of course. It wasn't enough that a perfect stranger had forced her into a lunch where the whole town would be watching—or that the same man was triggering feelings in her that she wanted to keep firmly buried. But now she was going to have to deal with her father's widow and the latest of the men that Mimi had hooked up with, dressed in whatever tacky outfit she'd bought with the money Roan's father left her. "Thanks, Gayle," she muttered miserably. She took a deep breath and fixed a smile on her face. "Please, Cal," she added when the waitress walked away. "Just don't say anything to encourage her. I'll make it up to you." "Rooo-annie!" A shrill voice cut through the lunchtime conversation as a woman came toward them, her long red coat brushing against diners as she pushed through the crowded tables. She was tall, maybe five foot ten—though high heeled boots added inches—and dramatic looking, especially for Conway, where fashion generally took a back seat to practical considerations.
