Best Man Under The Mistletoe. Jules BennettЧитать онлайн книгу.
matter how much anger she projected toward him, he was hell-bent on proving to her that he understood, that he totally agreed with her, that they were on the same page. He knew his uncle was a bastard, but just because Gabe’s last name was Walsh didn’t mean he knew what had been taking place in the months leading up to his uncle’s death.
“I can’t imagine how difficult this has been,” he started, hoping she let him finish. “I know you’re angry, but I swear I didn’t know about those photos until they were leaked. I never even looked at them.”
Chelsea snorted and shot him a glare. “If you think for a second I believe that lie, you’re more of a fool than I thought. You’re a guy. You looked.”
“We could argue this till we’re both blue in the face, you still wouldn’t believe me,” he growled. “But you’ll see. Once the truth is revealed and they catch whoever this accomplice is, you’ll realize that I truly knew nothing. You think I’d actually keep information like this to myself? Dusty self-destructed and that has nothing to do with me. I have a reputation, a multibillion-dollar security business to look after. The last thing I want to be involved in is a scandal.”
Gabe had to believe she’d eventually come to see that he wasn’t lying. He prided himself on honesty, and liked to think he was a man of integrity. Sure, he could be hard when it came to work, but when it came to his personal life, he could admit he was a bit softer when it was necessary. And this situation called for delicate measures unlike anything he’d ever known.
As he pulled into the Courtyard Shops, Gabe figured that even though he’d rather do anything else than wait on Chelsea to try on her dress, at least this forced time together was giving him the prime opportunity he needed to win her over. Which was important to him, even though he had big problems to deal with at his business right now.
“You can go on into Priceless while I try on the dress.”
Gabe hopped out of the truck and shot her a wink. “If it’s all the same, I’ll just stick with you. You won’t be long and then you can help me load the table next door.”
Chelsea groaned as she jerked on her door handle. Normally, Gabe would get the door for a woman—he was raised in the South by a well-mannered mother—but he also had a feeling if he tried to get the door for Chelsea, he’d just be taking a step in the wrong direction.
But the moment he stepped inside Natalie’s shop, Gabe started to reconsider his ploy to stick close to Chelsea. There were dresses everywhere. Fluffy, lacy, silky dresses, and the place smelled...pink. If a smell could have a color, this place was definitely pink.
The peppy little shop attendant greeted Chelsea and promptly went to get the dress from the back. Gabe spotted a lounge area in that direction and made his way to a white sofa in front of the wall of mirrors. He could catch up on a few emails that needed his attention and check in on his right-hand man doing some security work in Dallas for the next few weeks.
Nothing was as important as his business, especially during this crucial time. He’d already reached out to some of his closest clients and assured them that Dusty’s scandal had nothing to do with the Walsh Group. He’d also made sure they knew they could come to him personally with questions or concerns.
The unfortunate, untimely setback wouldn’t change the way Gabe handled his business. But it sure did complicate matters. If ole Dusty weren’t already dead, Gabe would have no problem driving out to his mansion and beating the ever loving sh—
Every single thought vanished when Chelsea stepped from the dressing room and came to stand in front of the three-way mirror. The fitted gold gown shouldn’t have looked so damn sexy, seeing as how it was long, with full sleeves, and a high neck. But the material hugged every single curve and dip on Chelsea’s luscious body, mocking him. He’d seen her in jeans, even in little flowy sundresses, but nothing like this, all sultry and glamorous.
She smoothed the dress over her flat stomach and turned from side to side. The innocent gesture shouldn’t have gripped his attention, but this woman had him in a total trance.
Emails and damage control forgotten, Gabe set aside his phone. He had nothing else to be doing right this second except for admiring her as she watched her reflection.
Hell. This wasn’t the time or the place to be getting uncomfortable in his jeans. Just who the hell was seducing whom here? But from the unsure look on her face—her brows were drawn, her mouth turned down in a frown—it seemed she had doubts about how damn perfect and sexy she looked.
“It’s fine,” he growled after what seemed like an hour of pure torture. “Can we wrap it up here?”
Hands on her hips, Chelsea glared at him from her reflection in the mirror. “I need to make sure I can breathe and sit without busting a seam, if you don’t mind. It seems tight.”
Actually he did mind, and it was damn tight...the dress and his pants. He should’ve gone to the antique store because this was pure hell. Then again, at least he had a heads-up for how she’d look when he had to escort her down the aisle. He’d hate to be all mouth agape and drooling in front of Shane and Brandee’s friends and families.
The idea of Chelsea and him walking down the aisle shouldn’t have made him feel awkward, yet it did. Weddings in general made him twitchy. That whole happily-ever-after wasn’t for everyone; he’d even managed to dodge being in any type of wedding party his entire life. But there was no way he could say no to Shane, his very best friend.
The more Chelsea shifted and turned and smoothed her hands over those luscious curves, the more uncomfortable Gabe became.
Commotion behind him had him tearing his gaze from the mirror and glancing over his shoulder. A slew of teenage girls came in the door, chattering and giggling about homecoming and needing perfect dresses. He could not get out of there fast enough. Between the lace, the satin and the chatter in such high octaves, this place was sucking the testosterone right out of his body.
“This will just have to work because I don’t have the time to do more measurements,” Chelsea muttered as she stepped off the platform and headed back into her dressing room. “Give me two minutes and we’ll be out of here.”
Gabe came to his feet, more than ready to get the hell out. As he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, he heard Chelsea mumbling and cursing from inside the dressing room. Seconds later, the door eased open just a crack.
“Um... I’m stuck.”
He eyed the narrow strip of her face showing through the door. “’Scuse me?”
“The zipper,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “The damn thing is stuck. Get the salesclerk to come help me.”
Gabe glanced over his shoulder at the mayhem of teens and fluffy dresses. The two workers were running in all directions accommodating parents and demanding girls.
He could do this. How hard would it be to get a zipper unstuck? Pulling in a deep breath, Gabe pushed open the dressing room door and offered up his assistance.
“Gabe. What—?”
She backed up and stared as he shut and locked the door behind him. The narrow space seemed to shrink even more with his broad frame filling the area.
“You said you needed help.”
Chelsea crossed her arms over her chest. “I said to get the salesclerk.”
“Well, darlin’, there’s about a dozen teenage girls out there and only two staff that I saw. That’s not a great ratio, so if you want out of this dress anytime in the next few hours, I’m it.”
That gleam in his eye was just about the naughtiest, sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Which was one of the many reasons she shouldn’t be closed in with him, and definitely why he shouldn’t help