Sweeping The Bride Away

“Cassidy, I need a key,” he called up the stairs.

“Dan, give Blade your key and the alarm code.”

“Are you sure?” Dan called.

“Yes,” Cassidy shouted back. Dan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key chain. He removed a key from the fob and passed it to Blade.

“The code, too?” Dan called.

“The code, too,” Cassidy said, and Blade heard her feet on the hardwood stairs. “He’s licensed and bonded,” Cassidy said, adjusting an earring as she entered the kitchen.

Blade’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been wrong. She wasn’t just pretty. She was gorgeous.

Lingerie models couldn’t hold a candle to her. His eyes drank in the way the red slip dress curved over her figure to layer just above her knees in small, loose ruffles.

Blade wondered what was wrong with Dan.

He wasn’t even looking at Cassidy, but rather the afternoon daily.

Was the man blind? Maybe he needed to have his glasses checked.

For if Cassidy were Blade’s fiancée, he sure wouldn’t be treating her this way. No, he’d never complain if she’d forgotten the time, especially if she greeted him looking like that and wearing only a silk robe. He’d be thinking, the heck with the Schmidts. They could eat by themselves while he and Cassidy made passionate love upstairs.

Or that short dress would just lift up, and he would lean her back on the kitchen island and see whether lace or silk was hiding underneath.

Instead Dan was now checking his watch.

Blade shook his head, clearing his erotic and disturbing thoughts. Cassidy’s choice of a husband was her problem. He just didn’t think she should be settling, as Clara had tried to do.

What he had to do, though, was check his lust for her. That was his problem.

He had to admit it; he lusted for her. He had from the moment she’d sent the peanuts flying across his bar. But he knew his lust would be just a temporary phase he’d go through. He’d given up phases long ago; he could outlast this one, too. As a grown man he knew that you didn’t get everything you wanted.

She belonged to someone else.

“Blade,” Cassidy said.

To get his attention, her hand touched his briefly. The small gesture sent a shock ricocheting through him. He quickly removed his hand, breaking the electricity sparking through him.

For an instant he wondered if she’d felt it, but the smooth facade had returned. “The alarm code is 4321. Not very original, I know, but my mother couldn’t remember numbers.”

Blade repeated, “4321.” Even though he knew he wouldn’t forget, he reached up and took a flat carpenter’s pencil out from behind his ear and wrote the number on the thigh portion of his white pants.

He glanced back up at her and caught her watching him, her guard down. “How much time do I have?”

“Oh, right.” She again regained composure. “You’ll have forty-five seconds to get from any of the doors to the box. It’s right here in the pantry.” She moved to a door and opened it.

Blade didn’t bother to look inside the pantry. Instead he stared at Cassidy, watching the dress cling and swish as she moved.

Suddenly he needed to leave fast. “I’ll be here tomorrow.” With that he took a step toward the door.

“I won’t be here.”

“I know.” Despite himself and his overpowering need for escape, he turned back and smiled at her. She was so lovely standing there, a vision. He found his voice. “I overheard. Monica’s at five.”

“Right,” Cassidy repeated. She smiled back at him, and Blade felt a stirring in his soul at her next words. “Thank you. I appreciate your helping me.”

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