Free Red Silk Scarf by Elizabeth Lowe Page B

disarray, Sullivan exited through the main door of a high-rise apartment
building, his disposition definitely on the testy side, Michael reported before
clearing Cassidy to enter.   The report so
pleasing Cassidy practically jumped for joy.  

 
    Served Sullivan
right, a pretentious, overbearing, narcissistic maniac, who believed in
plucking and pollinating every female flower, he deserved to be as miserable as
he made everyone else.    Irking Cassidy,
the most was admitting he’d taught her a lesson.   For the tenth time she sought the pager, a
lifeline she’d never be without again.

 
                Twisting her ankle upon stepping up
onto the curb added another profanity to the colorful bushel she had already
uttered since sunrise.   Whether due to
exhaustion or that she'd become a complete klutz was undeterminable.    The beauty of the day made no
difference.   From the moment her eyes
snapped open she was aware of a temperament concocted of anxiety and anger
shaken into downright ornery.   Sullivan
had, stripped her confidence, renovated her values, made her feel and think
irrationally, worse yet wounded her pride.   A Brady never succumbed to such nonsense.   Dammit, he'd never get away with it again,
she seethed.
               
    Cursing the
invention of high heels Cassidy entered the elevator vowing that when the
assignment was over never to wear them again.   Though the wedges, laced around her ankles and up her calves, were a tad
more comfortable, swollen feet and ankles continued to throb painfully.   Thank goodness, she found an alternative
despite a cluttered closet and that they matched the beige dress clinging
enticingly to firm, ripe curves.    A
dress she desperately tugged and pulled in an attempt to stretch the material
hoping to lengthen the flowing skirt that seemed shorter than when
purchased.   Obviously not an option, she
prayed for a windless day and that she wouldn’t have to bend over more than an
inch. Just in case, matching nylon and lace undergarments were added insurance.

 
    Molesting her was
an infectious case of self-consciousness mixed with self-pity.    Pouring her body into the spaghetti strap,
mini shift, made her painfully aware of her long limbs.   Taught not to allow vanity to swell her head,
Cassidy always considered them quite unattractive.   Then again, if such was the case, what was
there about her making the men she passed do a turn-a-bout face?   She’d never adjust to her new image,
half-naked at night, now in broad daylight, in public, least of all men's
desire-smitten faces, wolf whistles and disgusting innuendos.   Now feeling the way she looked, a loose
woman, she desperately wanted to return to, New York, her job, home, and
family.   The easy way out of the mess,
she’d gotten into, a coward's way, and Cassidy wouldn't accept either.

 
                Thank goodness, the elevators' empty
confines offered much needed respite, only then did she blush briefly until the
perfume she’d literally splashed on began watering her eyes and inducing an
allergic cough.   For Heaven’s sake, even
before her monumental task began she was falling to pieces.   Barely stifling the urge to scream, she
wondered what else was going to happen to destroy her nerves.  

 
                Her plan was, to search Sullivan’s
apartment and interrogate his family hoping to understand the man driving her
to the edge, most importantly uncover evidence.   God, if Sullivan ever found out!   Yes, she beamed, mischievousness gleaming her eyes.   Pay back was a bitch.

 
    Entering the
apartment was unbelievably easy.    Pamela
readily accepted the giant size white lie.    She was a friend of Patrick’s from Chicago who hadn’t seen him in years,
and wanted to stop by to surprise him.  

 
    Unlike her
brother, heredity wasn't as kind to Pamela who lacked Sullivan’s striking good
looks and extroverted personality.