Teresa Hill - His Bride by Design

He smelled so good, the way he always did. He’d admitted with a reluctance that bordered on pain that he still thought about her, that he missed her and that he just had to come see for himself that she was all right.

It was ridiculous.

Even in her dream, she realized that.

James Elliott was too proud, too stubborn and too independent to ever admit he missed anyone. But it was a lovely dream, bittersweet and achingly real.

Then she woke up once again, not twenty minutes later, in her bed, yet still very much inside her very own nightmare as fashion runway roadkill.

James fought the impulse all day, but nightfall found him standing on the corner across the street from the big, old Victorian near Prospect Park in Brooklyn that Chloe shared with her various relatives, who all worked for her in the first-floor showroom.

He stared up at the window of the small attic she’d turned into a tiny apartment for herself, where she had some measure of privacy. This after fighting with himself all day about coming anywhere near here.

It felt weirdly stalkerish to be there, just looking up at her window, and he was a man who did not stalk women. He just needed to know she was okay.

Which he couldn’t tell from simply staring at her house.

Still, he felt a little better, just being this close to her.

He waited until the last light went out in her little attic, saw the slightest impression of her, he thought, ghostlike against the sheer curtains, as she walked across the room. He imagined her climbing into bed, her toes cold, letting her warm them on his, his hands hot against her cool, pale skin, tangling in her glorious hair.

So many nights they’d spent that way, together in that room.

He couldn’t have her back, he told himself.

He’d made her crazy, and she’d done the same to him. He was as logical a man as there was on earth, and he knew without a doubt that no one needed to be hurt like that a second time.

So once the light was out, and he knew she was safe in her bed, at least for the night, he turned around and went home, swearing to himself that he wouldn’t be back.

The next morning, James faced the newsstand, hoping to see the usual mix of tabloid headlines screaming about drunken celebrities, corrupt politicians, alien sightings and baseball players on steroids.

No such luck.

That crazy model, Eloise, was back on the covers, in handcuffs, still wearing the wedding dress, her hair going every which way, mascara-streaked tears on her cheek, maybe a few drops of blood on the gown? The bridezilla label had been picked up by every tabloid he saw, now in this humongous font with letters the color of blood.

James winced as he stood there. Bridezilla? Had someone climbed a skyscraper in a bloody wedding gown and swatted at things? He didn’t think so.

What about Chloe? He scanned the news. Supposedly in a fit of rage, she’d destroyed every gown in her showroom with a huge pair of scissors. No way James believed that. She loved the clothes she made too much to ever destroy them, and Chloe didn’t do fits of rage. She just didn’t.

James got to the front of the line to hand over his money for his Wall Street Journal, and Vince said, “Your girl is back.”

“Yeah, I see that.”

“One of my customers just told me about this great video of the whole runway brawl,” Vince confided. “YouTube, that thing the kids like on the computer? Type in ‘Runway Brawl,’ and it’s supposed to come right up.”

James nodded. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. “I’ll do that, Vince.”

When he got to the office, he glared at Marcy, then gave a curt nod for her to follow him into his office. “People are online watching a video of the brawl at Chloe’s show?”

“More than a hundred thousand people so far,” Marcy said.

James grimaced. A hundred thousand? “Someone’s keeping a count?”

“Of course. At the rate the video’s being downloaded, it could go viral at any time.”

Which would be bad for Chloe. “We need to stop that from happening.”

“You can’t stop it. It’s already out there. It has a life of its own now.”

“There has to be a way,” he argued.

Marcy shrugged. “Maybe if Angelina Jolie actually left Brad Pitt or something equally earth-shattering.”

James sighed. “I guess we can’t make that happen.”

“I can’t. Unless you know how to find them, and you want to make a play for Angelina. I guess if you wanted me to do my best to seduce Brad … I mean, if you ordered me to, I’d have to do it for you.”

James considered. “You’re telling me you’d seduce Brad Pitt for me?”

“I’m a team player, sir,” she claimed.

“Well, it’s good to know you’re willing, Marcy, if it ever comes to that.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcy made a face. “I’m afraid there’s something else you need to know. Adam Landrey called. He said to tell you Chloe’s company needs another infusion of cash.”

James tried not to show anything in his face. “How much?”

“Six figures, at least.” Marcy clearly disapproved. “You broke up with the woman, sold your interest to your friend, then guaranteed he wouldn’t lose any money on the deal? You guaranteed his losses?”

“What if I did?” James argued.

“The two of you broke up!” Marcy repeated.

“I remember. Very well, thank you.” He glared at her. “Your point?”

“Are you going to treat me this well if I leave you?” Marcy asked. “Because I’ve never had a guy be that nice to me after I left him.”

“Leave me now, Marcy, or you might find out how badly I’ll treat you.”

She made a face, but left his office, closing the door behind her.

James went for the computer, found the video as easily as Vince said he would. It was like rubbernecking a particularly brutal car accident, except this accident involved someone he knew. Poor Chloe.

He picked up the phone to call Adam. When James and Chloe had broken up, she’d wanted him out, as an investor, immediately, and people weren’t lining up to take a risk in the fashion industry. James felt bad about the way things ended between them. He felt guilty and couldn’t bear to see her lose her design business, too. The only way he could get someone to take over his investment was to guarantee any losses the new investor might suffer.

Something Chloe would definitely not be happy about, even now, if she found out. It made James sound like some kind of controlling, overbearing, interfering man—all of which she’d accused him of being, when all he’d been trying to do was help. He was, after all, a brilliant businessman. What kind of a fiancé would he be if he didn’t help her? Chloe was brilliant herself, but creatively, fashionably. She didn’t have a businesslike bone in her body.

But all that was old news. Chloe should definitely be old news to him.

As long as nothing else really bad happened, she would be.

The Bride Blog: News of all things bridal.

Wedding Dress Designer Chloe’s Shocking Video Confession: She Never Really Believed in Love.

After three failed engagements, did she put a secret curse on all her gowns? So that no one else gets a happily-ever-after, either?

The question on the minds of brides-to-be everywhere: How could anyone marry in a Chloe gown and ever think their love will last?

Word is that brides are storming Chloe’s showroom in Brooklyn, demanding to return their dresses and to get their money back, much like the old-fashioned run on a failing bank.

How long can the House of Chloe hold out?

Time will tell, dear brides.

Time will tell.

Addie was scared to go downstairs that morning. They hadn’t actually had hordes of angry brides demanding refunds so far, but they’d had enough to scare Addie. What would they find today, after the latest Bride Blog piece, and a new video of Chloe, drunk in the bar the night of the bridal brawl, talking about her diastrous three engagements and claiming she never believed in love? Chloe even described herself as “cursed in love” in the new video. So Addie was scared to even look outside.

She crept into the showroom without turning on any of the lights and peeked out between the window blinds in the corner farthest from the door, and there stood … one, two, three hysterical-looking brides already, bridal garment bags in hand, no doubt the much-feared, supposedly cursed wedding dresses inside, ready to be returned.

“Oh, my God!” Addie cried, then crept away from the window, for fear that they would see her.

They weren’t even supposed to open the store until noon. This was the day they stayed open until 8:00 p.m., for brides-to-be who worked all day, and it was barely 9:00 a.m. now. They were about to be overrun, all because of that stupid Bride Blog woman!

James wasn’t surprised later that morning to see Adam looking a little uncomfortable across the breakfast table, saying he was sorry, but he just couldn’t put any more money into Chloe’s business right now. Another friend had already clued James in to the fact that Adam himself was not in the best financial shape at the moment. Hardly anyone was.

“I’ll take care of it.” James held out a checkbook for his personal account.

“If that’s what you want.” Adam looked like he was dying to ask what James was doing, bailing out a woman who’d dumped him a year and a half ago.

Fair question, and not one James cared to answer for anyone, not even to himself. He shrugged, tried to play it off and said, “She’s great in bed.”

Adam looked like he didn’t believe that reason at all, but volunteered, “I wouldn’t know about that.”

“Good,” James said, ridiculously happy to hear it.

“I mean, she’s adorable, funny, seems very sweet, obviously unusually talented and driven when it comes to her work.”

James nodded. She was. What could he say? He hated the idea of her being hurt, of her losing her business, losing her dream. Other than that … he just didn’t know.

As James handed his check to Adam, Marcy burst in, looking absolutely petrified. “There’s a riot at Chloe’s!”

James gaped at her. “Riot!”

Marcy nodded frantically. “That Bridal Blog lady? She said there’s a riot breaking out at Chloe’s store right now. Disgruntled brides storming the place, wanting their money back for the cursed dresses. It’s all over Twitter. I thought you’d want to know right away.”

He did. He’d ordered Marcy to keep him updated on the Chloe situation. But now that he knew this, he should probably run in the opposite direction. His life had gotten weird from the moment she came back into it. Not that she was truly in his life again. It just felt like it. From the distance of cyberspace, his favorite corner newsstand and that one night on the street corner across from her house, she was having her strange effect.

And he was afraid he liked it. He’d liked it the first time. Life had been interesting, surprising, even felt a little … fun. He could have that again. She was in trouble, and he was going to help her. Crazy as it was, it was what he’d wanted from the moment he’d looked up and seen her face on those stupid tabloid covers.

“I’m going over there,” he said, feeling better than he had in ages.

Now that James had given in, he couldn’t get to Chloe fast enough.

“She makes me a little crazy,” he confessed to Adam, who’d gotten into the taxi with James, probably to see just how crazy James was. Over a woman.