He frowned and shook his head. “No, too white.”
Said no bride ever.
Okay, she crumpled up the photo and tossed it to the bin. Next option.
Unfortunately, the four choices were all white.
But there was one…
She flipped through Wedding Binder Number One and found the plastic sleeve with the reject images she’d held onto for a future wedding.
Her throat clogged a little at the dress image she’d tucked there. She swallowed.
Not white, this one was crimson red with silver accents, and a sleeveless top that wouldn’t look great with her arms. The bodice wouldn’t even accent her breasts, they’d be on their own. But the skirt was full on Cinderella with a freaking bustle! And it didn’t even look silly because the gown was classic and classy and—
“That one.” Knox stood behind her, his breath against the back of her neck, and pointed his index finger at the image.
She sucked in a whole bunch of air.When did he come over here?
“It’s expensive.” She traced her fingertip along the edge of the plastic sleeve.
Honestly, it wasn’t more expensive than the other dresses. But this one was just…her…and she didn’t want to be herself at this wedding because she should be the persona of Irina. The woman Knox married for the photo shoot and the one who married a rock star for the career boost.
This dress was not for that character.
“You’ve got my credit card.” He pointed at the image. “I want that one.”
“No negotiation?”
He sighed. “Do you really want the other one? Because when you look at that one”—he pointed to the red dress again and wiggled his fingers like they were tracing stars falling—“you get all dreamy.”
“I don’t get dreamy.” She put on a decidedly not-dreamy mask.
“Dreamy looks good on you.” Knox gave her a look that made butterflies flutter.
Yes, this was that look guys get right before a girl leans in for a lip-lock. Their breaths both came uneven, and her pulse sped up. The air between them stilled like all the fizz had left the club soda, but it wasn’t a disappointment, because in the stillness something more potent seemed to build.
Harley fussed in her sleep, breaking the moment. They both turned to check on her, but she settled again without them.
Irina took the interruption as an opportunity to scoot away a few inches.
Uh, that thing with Knox—this thing with him—was a no go, because she definitely needed platonic in this shebang.
She huffed, then said, “You’re not supposed to think it looks good on me.”
“I can think what I want, it’s my brain.”
She gestured between them. “This gig between us requires that you not notice if I get dreamy or not dreamy.”
He held up his hands. “Fine. You do you, boo.”
She would do exactly that, thank you. At least, she’d do a version of that—a version that made more sense for the character she’d be playing.
“Have you given any thought to honeymoon locations?” Knox asked. “I was thinking someplace tropical.”
Ew. No. “That’s a little cliche, isn’t it?”
“Things are cliche for a reason.”
