was the first thought that had crossed Alex’s mind but now she wasn’t so sure.
“If it was her father, why wouldn’t she have called the house or left me a note?” he added.
Alex shrugged. She wanted to say that Natalie was self-centered and that if something caught her attention, it was entirely possible she would forget all about Thorn, but she kept hearing Natalie talk about Thorn’s money. It was hard to believe she’d walk away from that and yet, apparently, she had.
Alex imagined that being stood up at the altar—even if it was for a long-lost father—would be hard for anyone to take, let alone someone like Thorn Powell, who had probably never been stood up in his entire life.
“Come look at what I found,” he said.
She followed him into the hall, where a narrow door stood open revealing a small closet. Heaped on the floor of the closet was Natalie’s wedding gown, tossed aside like a used tissue.
“Oh, dear—” Alex began.
“Still think she ran off to meet her father?”
“Well—”
“Because I’m having a hard time swallowing that scenario. She’s dumped this dress the same way she’s dumped our wedding, the same way she’s dumped me.”
“I admit it looks that way, but—”
“She’s not going to get away with it,” Thorn said suddenly and, turning on his heels, walked down the hall, Alex once again in hot pursuit.
“What are you going to do?” she called.
Ignoring her, he tore open the front door and disappeared outside.
Alex closed and locked the door behind her, then raced along the balcony to catch up with him. At the top of the stairs she hooked the toe of her right shoe in the hem of her long skirt and, for one terrifying second, thought she was going to end up at the bottom of the steep concrete stairs in a broken heap of torn silk and shattered bones. Gasping, she threw out her hands for balance and toppled forward.
Thorn wheeled and caught her with steady hands. Effortlessly, he swooped her into his arms and carried her down the stairs.
“This isn’t necessary,” she mumbled to his chin.
“I don’t have the time to cart you to the hospital,” he said. They had reached the ground and for one long second, he stared down into her eyes. The gray of his irises seemed fogged with doubt. Alex guessed this was an uncomfortable condition for him, that he wasn’t used to indecision.
He unceremoniously put her down on her feet.
“Thorn, what are you going to do?”
The confusion in his eyes fled like a flock of birds suddenly startled. “I’m going to find her,” he said. “She’s going to tell me what’s going on or I’m going to wring her pretty little neck.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Alex said firmly. Natalie wasn’t her best friend, and Alex certainly didn’t admire the way she was treating Thorn, but there was a murderous look in his eyes.
“No, thanks,” he said as he strode toward his car. She reached the passenger door as he slid in behind the wheel.
“You can either take me with you or I’ll follow you,” she told him.
“How? You don’t have a car.”
“You’re right. If you leave me here I’ll be stranded.”
“Call a cab,” he said as he put the key in the ignition.
She held up both empty hands. “How? I don’t have a penny on me.”
He shoved a hand in his pocket, then swore. “Neither do I,” he said.
“Listen, my feet are killing me and this bickering is just wasting time.”
He stared at her again, as though seeing her for the first time, then shook his head and heaved a sigh. “You’re right, it is. Okay. Just get in.”
Alex once again folded herself into the little car. She didn’t stop to wonder why she was foisting herself upon this poor man; she only knew that she felt compelled to accompany him.
After all, I’m the maid of honor, she mused, though she was pretty sure no etiquette book counted among the official duties hunting the bride down like one would a rabid dog.
“Fasten your seat belt,” Thorn told her as he drove the car through the winding streets.
She did as he asked—no mean feat, given that the dress increased her girth threefold—and said, “Where are we going?”
He shot her a quick glance with eyes that now brimmed with life. Alex realized he was a man used to taking action, used to dealing with a crisis by controlling it.
“Otter Point. Where else?” he said briskly.
Where else indeed?
Thorn made himself obey the speed limits, though every fiber of his body urged him to press the accelerator pedal right through the floor. When he’d checked his pockets for a quarter to give Alex to call a taxi, he’d realized he’d left the house not only without any loose change, but without his wallet. With no driver’s license in his possession, all he needed now was a cop with a quota to fill.
He stole another sidelong look at the woman seated beside him. She was staring straight ahead, her hair still partly piled on top of her head, her profile as distinct as a cameo. He had noticed her in the flower shop, had even wondered about her a little as she seemed so wrapped up in her work, her fingers deft, her concentration complete. But truth of the matter was, he’d been so centered on Natalie that this young woman had been little more than an attractive fixture in among the blossoms. She was as pretty as her flowers, he now noted, her skin as translucent as a petal, her lips full, her lashes black and long, her eyes a startling.shade of dusky blue.
She seemed to sense him staring at her and turned her head slightly, shooting him a quick nervous smile as she attempted to brush windblown strands of glossy dark hair away from her eyes. He guessed she was suffering second thoughts about the wisdom of accompanying him on this fool’s errand.
“There’s a scarf in the glove compartment,” he said.
Alexandra nodded slightly and retrieved the scarf. It was Natalie’s, of course—white and filmy, the stuff wedding gowns were made of. Thorn felt a small knot form in his throat as Natalie’s perfume hit his nostrils and then was gone. In his mind’s eye, he saw the crumpled dress in Natalie’s closet, the one she’d refused to let him see before the ceremony—hell, the one she’d bought with his money!
