Sweeping The Bride Away. Michele Dunaway
her fiancé Dan suited her just fine. At five-eight Dan only stood two inches taller than she. She could look Dan right in the eye. Plus he was always impeccably tailored, and his profession allowed him to keep his hands clean, unlike the man next to her, whose cuticles looked as if they’d recently seen some hard washing with Fast Orange.
Besides, she rationalized, she’d been dating Dan for more than two years now, and that was after they’d been friends forever. He’d been the boy next door of her childhood, and no one had been surprised when he’d proposed to her with a flawless diamond in the middle of the annual Morris New Year’s Eve party. Even better, Dan was easy, comfortable, not at all unsettling like the man seated next to her.
She hadn’t been this unsettled since—She brushed that thought aside. In college she’d learned that burning passion did just that—burn you and leave you singed.
Still, Cassidy had been raised in the spirit of Texan hospitality, and the man had just bought her a beer. She gave him a courteous smile and made her tone politely neutral. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He shrugged, as if it were a gesture he made all the time. “You look like you had a hard day.”
It had been hard, but Cassidy was loath to tell him that. She’d learned long ago not to engage men in bars with idle chitchat. It always gave them the wrong ideas. Besides, would the man really care about her problems?
Doubtful. Even Dan didn’t think the fact that Cassidy’s parents were divorcing after thirty-seven years of marriage was a big deal. After all, her well-to-do parents had been estranged for years. Her mother just hadn’t looked the other way this time.
“Cat got your tongue,” he observed. He signaled the bartender. “Bring me my regular, okay, Dee?”
“Sure, Blade,” she replied with a warm smile.
“My dinner,” he offered, seeing Cassidy’s look.
Cassidy nodded benignly and pinned her gaze to the door. Just where was Sara, anyway? She was never this late.
He ignored her nonverbal cue.
“Say, would you like something to eat? The food here is actually pretty good. I can personally recommend the strip steak. It’s the best around.”
She drew herself up and chilled her posture, sending down her nose the ice maiden look she’d perfected long ago. “No thanks,” she replied. Perhaps now he’d get the idea.
At her change in posture, Blade Frederick almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it. For once he hated being right. For once, why couldn’t he be wrong?
Nope.
Not this time. He’d pegged her from the moment she’d arrived in his bar. One of those upper-crust women, slumming in an environment not her own, for reasons she felt like keeping to herself. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about her perfect life. Maybe wedding-day jitters?
His beer tasted stale in his mouth as he studied her left hand. Judging by the Rock of Gibraltar diamond on her third finger, no wonder she didn’t want to be noticed, or bothered, either.
Although not noticing her was damn near impossible.
Her suit, especially its short skirt, showed off her figure perfectly. With her long blond hair she could rival a Barbie doll for perfection. Being raised around the fake stuff, he could tell natural color when he saw it, and she had it. He’d wager money on it, and nowadays that was something he had plenty of to spare.
Since she’d walked into his place, she’d judged and juried him into a neat little box, a box he’d long ago broken out of. He didn’t like her assumptions of who he was, but what the hell. When whoever she was waiting for finally arrived, she’d be gone. Just this once he might as well act the part she’d already assigned to him, a persona he’d long ago shed.
“You know, darlin’,” he drawled, “you really should eat something if you’re going to be slamming those beers down that fast.”
That got a rise out of her. He grinned. Yep, she was one of those high-and-mighty ones. She may have him pegged wrong, but he hadn’t made a mistake. He sure had her number.
“Excuse me?” Those golden eyebrows of hers arched again, and despite himself, Blade felt a bit of glee at getting a rise out of her.
He knew he shouldn’t delight in it, but after being looked down upon by the high and mighty of Scott Creek while he grew up, it was fun to toy with a woman of her class knowing that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. No matter what, he knew her type and her game, and never again would he let a woman out of her perfect world slum with his heart.
She continued to glare at him, and he found himself staring into her baby-blue eyes. Damn, she was pretty. But they always were.
God built them that way just to torment men. Blade shifted, trying to get that image out of his head and his now tightening jeans.
“Look, I didn’t come here to eat but to meet someone,” she said in a haughty tone that bordered on indignation. Blade bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from chuckling at her. She was too cute. “And since we do not know each other, and I’d like to keep it that way, please refrain from stating your opinion on my activities.”
The smile he’d been trying to restrain cracked open. “You almost sent the peanuts flying with your purse, honey. I was just concerned for Dee’s safety. She’s the best bartender around.”
“Thanks, Blade,” Dee called from where she was wiping up a residual beer ring.
Cassidy swung around toward him, her hosiery-clad legs connecting with his. She didn’t seem to notice, but he did. Immediately.
Her baby blues flashed fire. “You think I’m dangerous after two beers? Since you have no idea who I am or what I can do or how much I can drink, your opinion is best kept to yourself.”
Worrying about her drinking was now the last thing on his mind. His mind had headed south, and he wondered if she could feel the heat rising from his jean-clad thighs simply because of her touch. He suddenly hoped not. He hadn’t gotten this much of a rise from a woman in a long time, and despite himself, he wanted to prolong it.
“Most people value my opinion,” he drawled, giving her his best wink. If he’d worn his Resistol, he’d have tipped the cowboy hat’s brim to her.
She recoiled as if she’d seen a snake. “I am not most people.”
He could agree with her there. Actually, she was different from the others he’d met of her class. She had spunk, style. Perhaps his first impression of her had been wrong. He didn’t mind being wrong, not in this case.
A slow smile edged across his face. She’d said she wasn’t most people, meaning she didn’t value his opinion. He had the perfect reply. “Then that makes you one of the few that don’t know better.”
If she weren’t waiting for Sara, Cassidy would have shown him her beer up close and personal by dumping it in his lap. She bit her tongue from the barbaric reply that sprang to her lips, and instead replied through clenched teeth.
“I see your mother forgot to raise you with manners.”
He had to give her credit. She was fast on her feet. But so was he, and he was enjoying this challenge way too much. It had been a long time since he’d met a woman who could match wits and spar with him. “What I lack in manners, ma’am, I make up for in other areas.”
“Really.” Those areas were not something she wanted to think about, but unable to resist his bait, she exaggerated her Texan drawl to match his. “Too bad I’m so unimpressed with any of the areas I see.”
The electricity between them sizzled. His voice silky, he drawled, “Then perhaps you should investigate the areas you don’t see. I’m sure you’ll find something to your liking.”
Her legs pressed even more into his, and she deliberately allowed