Sweeping The Bride Away. Michele Dunaway

it intrigued him. Better, she intrigued him. He had judged her too quickly, and now he wanted to peel off her layers in more ways than one.

      Besides, he would remain in control. He was all grown-up and practiced in the art of womanly wiles now.

      Cassidy bristled, annoyed at his obvious ease. Still she maintained her outward composure as she dug a little deeper. “What, a woman not being interested isn’t a reply you hear every day?”

      “Can’t say that it is.” He signaled for another round of longnecks and his expression sobered. “Seriously, though, why don’t we make peace and then you can tell me what’s got you in such a foul mood.”

      Cassidy blinked at him, her suspicion obvious at the sudden shift of conversation. Oh, what the hell. It could be mistake number four, or was she now on five? She’d lost count, and all she knew was that she needed to vent, and Sara sure wasn’t around.

      Suddenly noticing that her legs were touching his, she moved herself a safe distance away. Her body immediately missed his touch, and Cassidy frowned. That wasn’t a feeling she should be having. She found her safe topic. “I had the house I’m selling inspected by the city today.”

      He nodded his understanding. “I should have guessed. Hit you hard, did he?”

      “Four pages worth of predications,” she replied, reaching for the bottle of beer the waitress deposited in front of her.

      He whistled low. “Not good.”

      “You’re telling me,” Cassidy replied, her comfort level with him escalating.

      Finally, here was someone who actually understood. Dan had been too busy with some project to talk to her. Not even her real estate agent had been sympathetic, and she stood to make a huge commission from the deal. Blade’s roast beef sandwich arrived, and it did look good. Cassidy’s eyes glazed as she stared at it. Maybe she should eat something. “I thought you recommended the strip steak.”

      “I do, but my usual is roast beef.” He dipped the French bread roll in the juice, and Cassidy’s mouth started watering as he raised the morsel to his lips.

      He gestured with a French fry. “So you were saying, about the house?”

      She blinked as the French fry disappeared. Darn her. She’d been staring at his lips! “Oh. Right. It’s all Lillian’s fault.”

      “Lillian?” His dark-brown eyebrow shot up and Cassidy again noticed his eyes. Those bedroom blues had turned boardroom. He was actually interested in what she was saying. Danger signals went off in her head. Whoa, she thought. Time to stop drinking beer.

      She reached for the plastic dish holding the remaining peanuts. She should at least eat something. “Lillian’s my mother-in-law. Well, she’s not my mother-in-law. Not yet. Not ever if I could help it. She means well, but…”

      Cassidy shuddered. Immediately forgetting her resolve, she took another sip of her third beer. She tried to gather her thoughts and retrench. Had she just criticized Lillian aloud? “She kept talking and the more she talked, the more he wrote.”

      The inspector certainly hadn’t been impressed that Lillian had been the wife of Senator Ed Morris of Texas, or that she lived next door, or that she could get him fired. He’d just kept writing, turning the paper over, filling the back, and then beginning a new sheet.

      Even worse, Lillian had remained calm about the whole thing.

      “You’ll just need to build a new house,” Lillian had said. “I’ll talk to Ed and Dan about it tonight. If you contracted for one now it might be ready when you come home from your honeymoon. A month in Alaska, doesn’t that sound wonderful? June is the perfect month to see Alaska. It’ll be Ed’s and my gift to you both.”

      At that moment Cassidy was glad she’d never taken advantage of Texas’s concealed carry law.

      “Sounds pretty bad,” the man next to her sympathized as she finished the story.

      “It is,” Cassidy said. He finished his sandwich, and her mouth went dry. What had gotten into her? She’d just told him everything. She never did that. She never drank beer, either, or held conversations with strange but attractive guys in a bar. She blinked. He was gorgeous, enough to be a calendar pinup. She shoved another handful of peanuts into her mouth. Sober. She needed to be sober.

      “Look,” he began, “I know some handymen who can help you out. I can call them and…”

      “Oh no,” Cassidy managed through the mouthful of peanuts. She shook her head firmly and cut him off. Do not accept favors from strangers in bars. Especially good-looking men like him that would break your heart. Rule number thirteen or something like that in the Single Woman’s Guide to…something or other. “No. No.” She couldn’t believe she sounded so nervous. “Thanks for offering, but I’ll take care of it.”

      Somehow she would, although frankly, she had no idea how. Maybe one just looked up handymen under the letter H in the yellow pages.

      “Here.” Cassidy almost jumped out of her skin as he handed her a small card. Why was he making her so nervous? Even she could see that it was only a business card. People handed her business cards all the time.

      “Uh,” she stammered, suddenly feeling the urgent need to flee and get out from his magnetic proximity. It was either that or kiss him. Where had that thought come from? She would never drink beer again. Ever.

      “Take my card,” he said. Then he reached forward and uncurled her fingers. Never had a man violated her personal space like this.

      But the rage at his invasion of her space didn’t come. Instead Cassidy felt heat flow through her. Underneath his touch all rational thought evaporated as he closed her fingers around the card. “Call me if you need me.”

      Oh, I do, she thought, heat rising into her face. At least the words hadn’t been voiced.

      Wait! What was she doing? What was she thinking? Dan. Think of Dan. That’s right. Think of nice, safe Dan who never made her quiver like this. The thought evaporated as Sara walked in the door. Relief filled Cassidy. Finally.

      “Look, there’s my friend.” Cassidy jerked her hand away from his, her fingers instantly missing the heat of touching his. She shoved his card in her purse and edged her way off the bar stool. “Thanks for the drink. Enjoy your dinner.” Grabbing her beer, she tottered over to meet Sara.

      With a mixture of relief and frustration Blade watched her walk away. Relief filled him because she had been one of those women and he’d actually found himself enjoying the conversation with her. Frustration filled him for just about the exact same reason. She was one of those women, and he’d been enjoying the conversation with her. Would he never learn?

      Dee came over and stood for a second as they both watched the two women take a seat at a back booth.

      “How was the food?” Dee asked.

      “Fine,” Blade replied.

      Dee’s expression, as she looked down her nose at him, said it all. “Just fine?”

      “You know it was great, like always.” He shoved the empty basket toward her, his concentration still on the woman he’d just been sitting next to.

      “Pretty thing,” Dee observed, following his gaze. She could take those liberties. Blade had hired her four years ago when he’d bought the place from the elderly man who owned it. Greg had wanted to retire, and Blade, flush with money, had seen the need to own something that wasn’t just concrete and steel.

      “So did you get her phone number?”

      “Please, Dee. I don’t even know her name.”

      Dee dropped the basket on a tray beneath the bar. “You sure looked like you were getting friendly with her.”

      Blade gave a short, bitter laugh. “Please,” he said, denying the attraction he’d felt, that he still