Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
His typical never-ending stream of thoughts had been replaced by a string of curses as they rode in the back of the limo to the next store. They’d hit three others so she could grab new clothes, and their final stop would be to find their outfits for the gala.
She hadn’t said a word to him since they left the hotel, and hell, he deserved it. Maybe it was for the better. She was giving him the space he’d need to try and survive being so close to her for the next thirty-plus hours.
But the idea of losing Emily altogether after the op ended was intolerable.
He’d resigned himself to the fact that seeing her with a guy in the future would have him reaching for his pistol, or maybe he’d dust off his Winchester . . . but never seeing her again? No, he couldn’t entertain the idea, even if he was to blame.
“Jessica told you about your brother’s company, right?”
“Yeah,” she said without looking his way. “You guys talked about working together just last Friday, and now maybe you will.” She lifted one shoulder. “Guess he won’t actually be here, but close enough.”
“It’s not ideal,” he said in a low voice since the partition separating them from the driver was partially open. “But it may be a necessity.”
“I get it.” The emptiness in her tone was like a dagger to his heart.
“We’re here,” the driver announced, then came around to open the door for Emily, while Liam had to play the part of an ass and allow the guy to circle the limo and open his door next.
“Thanks, mate.” He tipped the driver and joined Emily on the footpath. “You sure you don’t want to eat first? You didn’t eat lunch, and it’s going on five.”
“I’m good,” she answered before they went inside the store. “I should help you pick out a suit. I have a feeling that’s not your area of expertise.”
“Um.” He did a quick survey of the men’s area off to the right. “Yeah, okay.”
“Can I help you?” a woman asked after he’d spent a few minutes lost in the sea of tuxes and suits while Emily searched as well.
“No, I think I’m all set.”
“I could measure you,” she offered, her brown eyes traveling over the length of him.
“Nah, I’m okay.” He tipped his chin toward Emily not too far away. “I think my wife”—shit—“girlfriend can help me.” Based on the rise of color in the woman’s cheeks, she probably assumed he was a cheating wanker.
“Of course. I’ll have one of the girls bring some champagne over to you and your girlfriend as well.”
“Got any beer?”
Her eyes widened as if he’d said something absolutely horrible. “No,” she said, her voice flat, then she parted ways.
Emily appeared with only one suit in hand a minute later and pointed to the fitting room. “I think this is it. It’s a classic.”
Black trousers with a matching black blazer and tie, plus a crisp white dress shirt. God, he hated wearing a monkey suit.
He took the suit from her and eyed the size. “How’d you know my digits?”
“I’m good with details, too.”
“You expect me to try this on for you?” He cocked a brow as she sat on a black leather bench in front of the single changing room.
“Of course.” Her focus was on her clasped palms on her lap, and her downcast look may as well have been a shot to his groin. It hurt like hell seeing her upset, especially knowing he was to blame.
Inside the fitting room, he kicked off his shoes and removed his shirt, but then his attention fixed to the tattoos decorating his arm. The memories of every loss he’d endured raged through his mind.
But Emily’s voice brought him back to the present. “It’s been five minutes. You forget how to get dressed?”
Five minutes? Was she kidding? He finished dressing, sans blazer, and opened the door. The fit was spot on. The woman knew her stuff.
“Need help with the tie?” She pointed to the tie hanging loose around his neck.
“I’m a SEAL,” he said since no one was around. “I know how to tie knots.” He fiddled with the black fabric, but after a few frustrating attempts, she pushed his hands out of the way and took over.
His breath hitched when he looked at her standing before him, focused on the task at hand. And now the only knot was in his stomach.
“My dad took my brothers to a lot of black-tie events growing up,” he found himself admitting, “but since he knew I didn’t want anything to do with the company he never forced me to go.”
“That’s why you’re not used to ties?” A smile touched her lips but only for a second as she stepped back and inspected her handiwork.
“Clip-on bow ties are my default whenever I have to dress like this,” he said, unable to take his eyes off her, the music overhead fading into the background.
“Where’s the jacket?” She twirled a finger in the air.
“Right.” He grabbed it from the room, shrugged it on, and returned.
“Wow, I haven’t seen a man wear a suit like that in—well, maybe never,” one of the female sales associates commented. “You’re one lucky woman.”
Emily didn’t blink. Hell, she didn’t move. She remained staring at him, her eyes trained on his arm, or more specifically, the black band peeping out from beneath the cuff of the blazer as he fidgeted with the sleeves.
“Well, I assume you want it?” the woman asked.
Liam took off the jacket and set it on the chair where Emily had been sitting before. “Yeah, thanks.” He undid the knot in his tie, never losing hold of Emily’s eyes in the process. He allowed the suffocating device to hang loose while he popped the top two buttons of his shirt.
The woman said something to him, but he had no idea what. He’d been too focused on Emily and the change in how fast his heart pumped with Emily’s eyes steady on him. Her lips parted like words hung on the tip of her tongue, but they were too dangerous to share.
“What are you thinking about?” He wanted to reach out and touch her cheek, but he resisted the impulse.
“You,” she said, a look of sadness in her eyes.
Her response—more so how she’d said it—nearly knocked him off his feet.
“I’m going to look at dresses.”
Diversion from the intensity of the moment. It was normally his specialty, and yet, she’d beat him to it.
“I’ll, uh, meet you over there.” He reached for the tie and removed it as she walked away.
It took him another solid minute to actually turn and force his feet to move from where they’d become stuck to the floor.
After changing, he handed the suit over to the woman at the front desk and crossed the store to find Emily in the women’s section.
“I found a few options.”
“Already?” he asked in surprise. “You’re my kind of woman.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Shopper,” he corrected, and she forced on a tiny smile, probably more for his benefit because that was the kind of person she was—caring and compassionate.
“Speed shopping is sort of a super ninja skill of mine.” The return of her humor, even if brief, had his pulse skipping back to sky-high.
“Explains how you picked out my suit so fast.”
“It does make it easy when there are only three black gowns in the store that are my size.”
“Well, you’ll look beautiful in all of them.” His eyes traveled back to her face, and she was once again wearing that for-his-benefit smile.
Maybe she was used to dealing with assholes in D.C. and learned to smile her way through it, but he didn’t want her to do that with him. “Emily.” He reached out and wrapped a hand around her free forearm, but when she took a quick step back, his hand fell.
“I should try these on.” She hurried to a fitting room. There were eight to the men’s one.
He sat on one of the two white armchairs and placed his face in his palms, trying to get a grip.
I did this to her. It’s my bloody fault.
After a few minutes passed, he figured she wouldn’t be modeling the dresses for him. Not exactly fair, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t see her walk toward him like a damn vision. He’d probably forget to breathe.
“Are you going to show me?” A guy’s voice had Liam dropping his hands to his lap.
A man in a pinstripe suit sat in the chair next to him and began fidgeting with the knot of his tie.
“Do you want me flaunting my arse in lingerie to this stranger here?” the woman asked, and before Pinstripe Guy could answer, she kissed him on the cheek and disappeared behind a fitting room door.
“Champagne?” A different woman from earlier approached with two flutes.
“No, thank you,” Liam answered, and the other guy shook his head.
“Champagne’s only for weddings, right, chap?”
Liam glanced his way. “Uh, yeah.” He wasn’t in the mood for small talk with some guy who had a faint white mark wrapped around his ring finger.
“My girlfriend might want the champagne, though.” He motioned for her to set a glass on the small circular table wedged between the two chairs.
The man retrieved his phone when it began screeching a pop song for the ringtone. “I’ve got to step outside and take this, you mind letting her know I’ll be right back if she comes out?”
“Yeah, sure.” He’d wanted to say no, but he was playing the role of Brandon and not himself, and Brandon wouldn’t have the urge to hit Pinstripe Guy just because he assumed the man was a cheater.
Brandon. And great, now he was thinking about another person he wanted to deck. Maybe he’d become so used to the anger it had become an extension of his body. Was it time to forgive and move on?
But when Emily exited her room, all of his thoughts fell away.
She was in a strapless, full-length black gown, embellished with crystals or something glitzy, and her full breasts swelled above the curved top.
She’d pulled her hair into a bun, showcasing her long neck, and he wanted to trail his mouth down the line of her throat before gently biting her shoulder blade while he thrust inside of her.
He stood and jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to remember how to speak. “You look . . .” He was at a loss for words. An angel. A vision. His.
He let go of his thoughts when he realized her eyes weren’t on him but off to his side.