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He may have been a former special agent, he may have put the fear of God in many suspects in his time, but Chelsea wasn’t afraid. The only thing she worried about was how he managed to infuriate and turn her on at the same time. She hated how her body responded to just the sight of him when her mind told her she knew better. Why did lust have to cloud her judgment?
“I’m not arguing.” She turned her attention back to the mess before her. “I have too much to do here. If Brandee doesn’t see some progress, she’ll worry it won’t be done in time, and I won’t have my best friend stressed for her special day.”
“Then it sounds like you need an extra pair of hands.”
Chelsea shuddered. Gabe had used those hands to grip her shoulders and haul her against his hard body as he’d kissed her so fast, so fierce—
“I say we call a truce.”
Chelsea swallowed and finally nodded. He was right. They had to work together and she had to believe the sheriff when he’d said Gabe was in the clear. She just wanted someone to blame, someone to take her anger out on.
“A truce,” she said. “I think I can handle that.”
Gabe flashed that smile again. “So what are we doing here?”
“Brandee wants a large arch for her and Shane to stand beneath to exchange their vows. She wants it to be elegant and Christmassy, not tacky. Everything will be done in whites and golds and clear lights. She told me to order one, but I wanted to make it so she had something special and meaningful.”
Chelsea couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her friend’s upcoming nuptials. Chelsea may be hard, she may be independent and run the tech side of Hunt & Co. like a boss, but she was still a woman with dreams. She didn’t want a man to take care of her, but she certainly wouldn’t mind a man to hold her at night, to appreciate her Italian-lace lingerie collection, to laugh with her and share stories about their days. Was it too much to ask to meet just one man who wasn’t a jerk?
“Is there a blueprint for this or are we just winging it?” Gabe asked.
Chelsea came to her feet, dusting her hands against her holey jeans. “No blueprint, but Shane had everything cut and ready to assemble once I told him my ideas. I told Brandee I’d take care of it since it’s my idea. I have a picture on my phone of what it should look like. But it’s just a mock-up of the picture in my head.”
She slid her phone from her pocket and pulled up the image.
Gabe came to stand beside her, having the nerve to brush his shoulder against hers.
She shouldn’t be attracted to such a...a...wolfish man. He was a hell of a kisser, but he was also related to the enemy. That was reason enough for her to be leery. Wasn’t it? There was only so far a hot bod and toe-curling kiss could take Gabe Walsh. So what if she’d had vivid, detailed dreams of the infamous kiss and all the delicious things her mind conjured up without her permission?
“Subtle,” she said as she took a half step to the side. “Don’t try using this opportunity to kiss or seduce me or whatever else you’re thinking.”
Gabe came around and stood directly in front of her. She still held her phone out, her hands frozen in the narrow space between them. His deep eyes held her in place, and Chelsea trembled as if he’d touched her bare skin.
“Darlin’, when you were kissing me, you weren’t exactly shy about it.”
Chelsea opened her mouth to object, but Gabe leaned forward, coming to within a breath of her lips.
“So don’t try to deny that you’re attracted to me,” he murmured. “And I won’t deny it, either. But right now, we have more pressing things to do than worry about who is seducing whom.”
Keeping his eyes on hers, he eased back and slid the phone from her grip. Damn the man for making her entire body heat up like he’d lit a match from within. The broad shoulders, the scruff along his jawline, the ink peeking from beneath his fitted T-shirt...and the way he’d drawled out “darlin’” had her ready to ignore those red flags and kiss him again. Maybe it hadn’t been that good and she’d remembered all wrong. Had her toes actually curled? Had her body tightened with arousal?
Stifling a groan, Chelsea stepped over the supplies and went to the pile of wood. As much as she liked to think she could do everything on her own, she was going to need Gabe’s help here.
“This is some setup they’re wanting,” Gabe said behind her. “I guess we better get started. The wedding is only a couple weeks away and this isn’t our only task.”
Gabe again came up beside her, this time not touching, and handed over her phone. “Tell me we’ve decided on the florist. I really don’t want to look at one more plant or bloom or branch or anything else that I know nothing about.”
“The florist has been nailed down and contacted. Now, we need to finalize the appetizers and beer and wine list for the combined bachelor/bachelorette party,” she told him. “I have the final numbers for those who sent in their RSVP.”
Gabe blew out a sigh. “I’ll handle all the menus if you promise I don’t have to pick out tablecloths or do little calligraphy place cards.”
Chelsea crossed her arms and turned to fully face him. “Well, Gabriel Walsh, I’m disappointed in your knowledge of contemporary weddings. Calligraphy cards are definitely a thing of the past. I actually already ordered name cards in the same design and font as Brandee’s invitations. You really should update your wedding magazine subscriptions if you’re ever going to do this yourself.”
“If I ever lose my mind and marry, I’ll let my bride handle everything.” He raked a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Food and alcohol are easy. Especially since we’re having the party at the TCC. What else do you want me to do that doesn’t involve something frilly or flowery?”
“Someone is grouchy,” she muttered. “Is it because I threw the screwdriver at your head or because I’m not throwing myself at you after the kiss?”
Gabe shoved his hands in his pockets and tipped his head sideways to look her in the eyes. “Are we going to be able to get along to get through this together?”
Chelsea shrugged. “Depends. You keep your hands and lips to yourself and we might just. And just so you know, I tend to believe you when you say you didn’t know what your uncle was up to. Shane and Brandee wouldn’t put their trust in you if you were involved. But you better hope like hell there isn’t a connection, because if I find out there is, I won’t miss the next time I throw a screwdriver at your head.”
Two (#u07b717ae-589e-5c3b-aa14-5ee340498864)
“This doesn’t look right. Is it leaning a little?”
Gabe stood back and stared at the arch he and Chelsea had been grunting over for the better part of the day. They’d gotten along surprisingly well, as long as they’d kept the topic of conversation on the wedding...or when they weren’t talking at all.
When the silence stretched between them, though, his mind started conjuring up all sorts of naughty thoughts and each one starred the woman at his side. The way she wore her holey jeans low on her hips and that fitted tank, she didn’t look like an expert hacker and CTO of the most prestigious chain of steakhouses in the South.
She could drive any man out of his mind, even if she was spitting in his face and smarting off with that sweet mouth. It was one of the many reasons he couldn’t help but admire her. She didn’t take crap from anyone and was her own hero, saving herself from the evils in her own world. Damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.
It didn’t go unnoticed how she’d kept glancing his way. The attraction simmering just below that steel barrier she kept around her was going to explode...and he damn well would be the man to experience her passion. He’d had just enough of a taste to crave more, and she could deny all she wanted with her words, her body told a whole different story.
He gave the arch a slight push. “Did that help?”
Chelsea stepped back, angling her head. “That did it.”
Gabe’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the text from one of his assistants. After a quick response, he slid the phone back in.
“Late for a lunch date with your girlfriend?” Chelsea asked as she gathered the tools and put them off to the side.
“If you want to know if I’m seeing anyone, just ask.”
She tucked her shoulder-length, honey-blond hair behind one ear and quirked a brow. “I didn’t ask.”
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he informed her, taking long strides to close the distance between them. “A fact you should know before you kiss me again.”
Chelsea crossed her arms beneath her chest and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on hers. “You’re arrogant enough to think that’s going to happen?”
“Arrogant? Perhaps, though I’m positive it’s only a matter of time.” Whistling, he turned to head from the barn out to his car. Any second he expected a tool to hit the back of his head or go whirling by his ear. But nothing happened. He was proud she showed such restraint. Obviously he was growing on her.
But he’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t irritated by the fact she thought he had something to do with those leaked pictures. What on earth would his motive be? There was no reason for him to go around with his uncle terrorizing the people of this town. Gabe actually liked those who had been affected by his uncle’s activities and would never want to see any of them harmed. Shane and Brandee had even been targeted, for pity’s sake. Dusty’s antics were absolutely inconceivable.
As Gabe slid behind the wheel and started the engine, Chelsea came strutting out of the barn straight toward him. He rolled his window down.
“I knew you’d chase after me.”
Rolling her eyes, she propped her hands on her hips. “Brandee just texted me and asked if we’d run to Natalie Valentine’s bridal shop so I can get my last fitting.”
“As much as I’d love to help you with a fitting, I’m afraid I have work to do. My uncle, as you know, is ruining my name even in his death and I have too many clients to coddle during this sensitive time. Besides, how could you ever bring yourself to trust me at a fitting?”
Chelsea’s lips thinned and she gritted her teeth before saying, “Brandee wants us to stop at Priceless to pick up her wedding present to Shane. She bought a table and chairs for their dining room, says it’s just like the one his grandmother used to have, and she wants to surprise him. The dress fitting just makes sense because we’ll already be there.”
Gabe dropped his head back against the headrest and groaned. “You know, I do have a company to run.”
“Yes, and here I am with nothing to do. Or maybe you’ve forgotten I have a demanding position, as well.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he argued. Blowing out a sigh, he glanced back up at her. “Get in. We’ll swing by my place and pick up my truck so we can go get this furniture.”
“I’ll drive myself.”
“There’s no reason we can’t ride together. I have to take the truck anyway to pick up the table. Unless you’re afraid to be alone with me.”
Chelsea narrowed her eyes. “I hate your inflated ego.”
“Duly noted. Now, get in.”
He couldn’t help but smile as she rounded the hood of his car. He didn’t know why he wanted to provoke her, but he couldn’t help himself. In actuality, he wanted to spend more time with her. Seducing her was something he wanted to pursue, sure, but more importantly he wanted her to know that he would never, ever, treat a woman the way she’d been treated by his uncle. Above all else, he needed her to know that. And she wouldn’t just take his word for it. She needed to see that he wasn’t some jerk that got off on blackmailing people and ruining reputations.
As soon as she got into the car, he put it in gear and set off toward his downtown loft.
He kept his truck in the second bay of his garage, for which he paid a hefty monthly fee to have parking beneath his downtown loft apartment. But a man couldn’t live in Texas and not own a truck. It was practically against the law.
“You know—” he began once they’d switched to the truck and were back on the road.
“We don’t need to talk.”
Well, apparently this was going to be more difficult than he’d thought. Gabe tightened his grip on the wheel.
“Yes, we do,” he countered. “As I was saying, you know there are many people in this town who know me and know I would never side with my uncle. I wouldn’t have covered up such maliciousness.”
“I know you were cleared of any wrongdoing. The sheriff told me he’s positive you had nothing to do with the scandal. But at the same time, he was your only family member. How did you not know what he was up to? He was old and feeble. Someone had to know something about what he was doing.”
There was bite to her voice, but beneath that gruff exterior there was pain. Gabe hated what she’d gone through, the humiliation and embarrassment. The fact that so many had suffered at the hands of his uncle didn’t sit well with him, but he was especially upset about Chelsea. Her betrayal had taken on a darker, more personal feel than the others.
No 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.
Three (#u07b717ae-589e-5c3b-aa14-5ee340498864)
“Gabe. What—?”
