His Bride by Design

“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.”