Handsome Devil Read Online Free PDF Page B

flip the undergarment over. I hate underwire bras with a passion. They cut into my skin. Unfortunately they also happen to conceal some very useful equipment, and I'm not talking about my B-cups.
    My thumbnail works the filament out of the wiring case. A long blue cord slides out. I quickly put it on the floor and get the companion red strip from the other side. Part of the reason I learned how to sew was because I had to hide all of this stuff somehow throughout my wardrobe. There are plans for plans that go wrong, and this is plan number 146.
    My skin is pebbling with the chill, and I get the bra clipped back in place as soon as humanly possible, followed by my tank. I glance at the catwalk again. All clear.
    The filaments are more clay than anything else. A human wouldn't know what he or she was looking at because the elements aren't found on Earth. By itself, each filament is harmless. But when they come in contact for longer than thirty seconds, they turn into a kind of acid that eats at metal. It doesn't last long and I'm not sure I even have enough to get out of here. I just have to hope.
    Hey, it's more than McGuyver had, right? And he always got out of his SNAFUs.
    I pinch pieces from each part until there are four each. If I put them at just the right points, they should eat enough of the metal to create a doggy door I can get through. I bite my tongue between my teeth as I work, twisting the red and blue pieces together as fast as I can then sticking them on the metal. Two, three, four, sit back and hope for the best.
    Longest thirty seconds of my life.
    But I hear the hissing as I keep an eye on the door. It's working, it's working! My heart races. I bounce on the balls of my ballerinas. When the hissing finally stops, I have to force myself to wait a few seconds longer. No way in hell am I getting any of that on my bare skin.
    I kneel and thread my fingers around the bars. I give it an experimental jiggle. Mobility. I jiggle harder, and then clink! The joints detach.
    Alright. Now we're talking.
    The tables are turning, Ferissian.
    I carefully set the piece against the wall. My blood is singing and I feel like a million ants are crawling over my skin. The best way to do this is on my back, I decide, and essentially pull myself out.
    I lay down and skooch up. Everything goes really well at first. My arms go through, naturally, then my upper body.
    My hips don't budge.
    I squeeze. I twist. I strain. I pedal my legs in the air and make really unattractive grunting noises.
    I try backing up and going through again.
    Nada. Nothing. Nix.
    Damn these birthing hips!
    My head falls back with a thump on the floor. “Seriously?” I ask the ceiling. This is my Achilles Heel?
    I lift myself up on my elbows and inspect the situation. Half in and half out. If he comes back and I'm stuck like this, I am NEVER going to live it down.
    It's the jeans, I decide. They're the skinny kind, but the denim is still thick enough to make a difference. I reach through the openings and quickly unbutton and unzip; I wiggle around a bit to see if more room has presented itself.
    Oh thank God is has.
    I pull myself out with my hands, scooting on my butt with my jeans around my knees. Good thing I wore my granny panties; my cheeks on this floor would be like a tongue on ice.
    Then I'm out.
    Bwahahahahahaha! I sing in my mind, getting to my feet and jumping around trying to pull my pants back up. Skinny jeans are a bitch, but I'm so impressed with myself I don't care.  
    Okay okay okay okay. I'm on the bridge, the brain of the ship, so I dash over to the spinny chair and practically throw myself into it. Step one: figure out where M'anu is and keep him there. The last thing I need is for him to come back and gum up the works.
    The control panel is exactly what the name suggests—a giant panel of plasticesque material that extends well beyond my wingspan on each side. I drag my finger across the surface to call up the command menus.
    You know,