Sweeping The Bride Away. Michele Dunaway
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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