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Which had him looking even more concerned. “Flowers? Chloe, those were garment bags—”
“No, I know that! I’m just confused,” she said. “Not in that concussion sort of way. In that this-is-really-weird kind of way. You know?”
“Yes,” he agreed, still looking worried.
God, he smelled so good, so familiar.
Chloe winced.
Not now. Her life was falling apart already. She could not do this now with him. She looked at him warily.
Collapsing in his arms the minute she saw him again was not how she’d ever imagined any reunion they might have. She was supposed to look her best, maybe all done up for a show, and he was supposed to look bleak and sad and lonely without her. He was supposed to say he missed her terribly, that he had never stopped thinking about her.
That’s how it was supposed to go.
“All of that really happened just now?” she asked him.
“Yeah, it did.”
“Pinch me,” she said. “I have to be sure.”
James smiled for the first time since she’d seen him again, looking heartbreakingly sexy and so appealing she thought about dragging him down into the bed with her right that minute.
“I’m not going to pinch you,” he whispered, ever so slowly lowering his head to hers.
Her whole body started trembling before he even touched her, and she could have stopped it. Truly, she had time. And some sense of self-preservation that was still alive inside of her.
After all, her most recent ex-fiancе had just been outed as a sometimes-gay man, having an affair with Chloe’s model’s boyfriend, outed on the runway at her Fashion Week show. Even Chloe, stupid as she could be about men, knew that the last thing she needed was for James Elliott to kiss her, even just once.
But he’d charged to her rescue like Prince Charming, saving her from hysterical, rioting brides, after all. She still wasn’t convinced this was real. So she let him kiss her. It wasn’t the stupidest thing she’d done lately, and it was one thing she actually wanted to happen.
He let his whole body sink into hers, those chiseled abs, the hard chest, wide shoulders. They sank into the feather mattress on her bed like they used to do. He’d loved this bed with her in it. She whimpered, a rush of hurt and longing washing over her, sending her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer.
“Don’t be scared,” he said, tenderly, sweetly, his mouth merely a breath from hers.
And then he finally closed that last bit of distance between them, his lips soft and firm, heartbreakingly familiar, and yet as tentative as he’d ever been with her. As if he knew how much this meant to her, and he truly didn’t want to hurt her. As if he knew what they were both risking, and yet just couldn’t stop himself.
She let her eyes drift shut, drew in that wonderful man scent of his. Her hands came up to frame his face, to slide into his hair. He had beautiful, thick black hair. He took his time with the kiss, didn’t attack with his mouth as so many men did. He coaxed. He soothed. He smiled against her mouth, teasing ever so softly with his tongue, while she wanted to open up and devour him whole.
He had to know that.
It had always been that way between them.
He took little nibbles of her, her mouth, her ear, her neck, back to her mouth, so carefully, so sweetly, with a kind of power and control that drove her crazy at the same time it left her in complete awe of him.
He could seem so cool, so reasonable, so strong. Was this some sort of game to him, a corporate takeover he’d planned out in minute detail and executed to perfection? But then she caught a glimpse of his face, his eyes, and she saw. He was burning up inside, as desperate for her as she was for him.
Was he still desperate for her? Had he missed her? Thought about her? Could he possibly want her back? At this, the worst moment in her life?
She lay there beneath him, in complete awe, her head still spinning, that perfect, hot, hard body of his pressing into hers, which was positively purring with pleasure.
He’d finally stopped teasing. Now he was kissing her for real, his body thrusting ever so slightly against hers in time with the thrust of his tongue in her mouth, everything about this, about him, as exciting as ever.
He could have her clothes off in seconds. She knew it. She could be naked beneath him, wrap her legs around him, open herself up to him in every way, and he could be inside of her, hers again, at least for a few moments. She wanted it, and so did he.
It would be so easy, and so good.
And then they’d be right back to where they’d started, everything that had gone wrong between them still there for them to deal with. She couldn’t trust him. She knew it. She’d caught him with a model named Giselle, seen it with her own two eyes, and that had finally been the end of her and James.
Chloe drew in a big breath of him, of everything he was, everything she felt, everything she’d missed so much about him, and somehow found the strength to turn her head away, to break the kiss, kill the moment.
He went still on top of her, slowly raised his head and looked down at her, passion blazing from his dark, beautiful eyes, along with a million questions. And he had that dazed look that had her thinking he was as confused as she was.
Had this really happened? Were they sure it wasn’t all a dream? A bizarre but very good one?
“You saved me from the brides?” she asked tentatively.
He cocked his head to the side, looking truly worried, then carefully, slowly, raised himself off her to sit by her side. His hand came to her face, tenderly working its way over her head, his eyes searching.
“Chloe, are you hurt?”
“No,” she whispered. “Not really. I was dreaming about my show. Did you see the video? It’s all over the internet. Everyone’s watching.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
“The way Bryce kept turning in a circle to try to get away from Eloise’s fingernails, and how her veil floated around them in circles, so you saw the whole thing through this gauzy haze, even the blood?”
“Yes.”
“If they made horror movies for fashion designers and brides, that’s what it would look like.”
“Chloe, you’re scaring me,” he said.
“And that dress? I loved that dress. I loved it more than any other dress I’ve ever designed, because I looked great in that dress. That was going to be my wedding dress. Why did it have to be that dress Eloise was wearing when it happened?”
“I don’t know, Chloe. I’m really sorry. About everything.”
“All I have left is the sleeve. Bryce grabbed at Eloise to get her off of him, and all he got was the sleeve. He just ripped it off the dress. Robbie found it on the runway after everyone left and brought it back to me. It’s all I have.”
“You made it once. You can make it again,” he tried.
“No. Not after what happened. It’s cursed, too, like me.”
“Chloe, you are not cursed,” he insisted. “You know that.”
“My poor dress. Do you think it ended up in jail with Eloise? Because I just hate thinking about that beautiful dress being dragged across that filthy floor at the jail. Do you think maybe you can bail a dress out of jail? And leave the person wearing it there?”
“Chloe?” He looked really scared then, like she was freaking him out. She tried to get up, but he wouldn’t let her. “Not now, okay? The brides are still downstairs. We need to wait a while, until they leave.”
“Okay. I don’t want to see them again. They were mean brides.”
“Chloe, did any of them hit you? Other than the one who got you here?” He touched her poor cheek. “Did anyone hit your head?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“I think so.” She was with him, in her bed, even though that made no sense. “In my house. In my bed.”
He smiled encouragingly. “Good. You scared me for a minute.”
So it had happened. It was real.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
Why was he here? Why did he care? Why was he being so nice to her? Why had he kissed her like that? She thought he hated her, if he felt anything at all for her anymore. She’d hated him as best she could for as long as she could, because that was the best way to get over him, to try to forget him. Not that it had worked all that well.
“Chloe, have you been getting any sleep the last few days?” he asked, looking like he wanted to haul her off to the hospital and have her head examined, at the very least.
“Not much,” she admitted. “I keep having nightmares. Very strange nightmares.”
“Okay, maybe you just really need to sleep,” he said, forcing a smile. “How about this? You stay here, close your eyes, and I’ll stay right here until you go to sleep.”
He took a couple of pillows and piled them up against the headboard, kicked off his shoes, pulled off his tie and suit coat, then sat down on her bed, settling her against his side, her head against his chest.
“I just … I don’t understand,” she said one more time.
“I know. Just go to sleep. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
It was the sweetest, most welcome thing he could have offered her. Rest, peace, safety, with him right beside her, watching out for her, just like in her dream.
He waited until she was asleep, and then waited a little bit longer, taking it all in. Being in her bed again, kissing her, holding her, wanting her so bad he ached with it. The smell of her, the joy, the absolute chaos, all still there, all just the same.
Except she was more vulnerable now than she’d ever been, and he’d come charging in like a man who had every right to be here and to protect her, sweeping her off her feet and fighting his way through a frenzied matrimonial mob to save her.
It was the charging-in thing, the every-right-to-be-there thing she’d most certainly object to, once she wasn’t dazed and sleep-deprived and maybe concussed. He hadn’t been able to find any evidence of a head injury, but she certainly seemed a little out of it, even for Chloe.
James was tempted to stay with her, but he had no idea what might still be happening with the riot downstairs. So, though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he disentangled himself as gently as he could, leaving her asleep, curled up against a pillow instead of him. He tucked covers around her like she was a child who needed to be protected from the cold, smoothed down her hair, kissed her forehead.
Then he dragged himself away.
Downstairs in the kitchen he found Addie and Chloe’s twin cousins, Robbie and Connie. Adam was still there, too.
They all looked up as James entered, giving him the thorough once-over. Too late, he straightened his tie, smoothed down his jacket and then his hair, trying not to look like a man who’d just crawled out of bed. Oh, well.
“Is she all right?” Addie asked finally, clearly having a hard time believing what she was seeing.
James nodded. “She’s asleep. Did she get hit on the head?”
They discussed it for a moment, then determined that no one had actually seen Chloe take such a blow.
“She was confused,” James said.
“She might still think this whole morning was a nightmare,” Robbie said, then looked at James, and mouthed, “I didn’t mean seeing you, exactly, was a nightmare—”
“It’s all right,” James said.
Had she kissed him back only because she’d thought she was dreaming and been confused about who he was? James had no way of knowing, so he concentrated on the business at hand.
“You took care of that crazy mob?” he asked.
Addie nodded, looking from James to Adam and then back to James, like she knew they were both up to something. “We wrote a lot of checks.”
“Okay,” James said, as if that settled that. If there was going to be a fight about the money, it was between him and Chloe, no one else. “I think you should post a security guard outside for the next day or so. You don’t know if you’ve reached the end of the crazy brides. We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
He realized, too late once again, that it wasn’t his decision to make, and looked at Adam to save him.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Adam said. “I’ll just have to find—”
“I know someone,” James said, pulling out his phone. “Good guy.”
“Good,” Adam said. “Thank you.”
Addie had obviously heard enough. She turned to James and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I was … with Adam,” James said. “We were having a business meeting nearby when we heard about the riot at Chloe’s. Adam was concerned, so he came over to make sure everyone was okay. And I came with him. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” Addie laughed out loud. “What did you do to Chloe?”
“I just got her away from the mob out front and brought her upstairs to rest. Nothing more.”
“And she just fell asleep?” Robbie was indignant now.
“I didn’t hurt her,” he claimed. “I wouldn’t do that.”
But he had.
They knew it. He knew it, too.
She hurt me, too, dammit.
He thought it, but didn’t say it.
“She’s perfectly fine,” he insisted. “Just a little confused, and she said she hadn’t been getting much sleep since the runway thing.”
“You know about the runway thing?” Addie asked.
“Half the solar system knows about the runway thing,” he said, which was true. He just wasn’t normally in the half that followed tabloid news. But still … “Just let her rest. I’m going to call the security guy I know.”
