Page 49 of Under His Touch

Will comes from his dressing room and smooths a hand over his lapels, breaking the moment.

“I’m not so sure about this color,” he says scrunching up his face.

“Not your choice, bro,” I say, with a slap to his back.

“Are you whipped already, Alec?” he teases. “Light purple. Couldn’t we have at least picked something a little more manly?”

“Like soft blue,” Megan says, and I take in the soft blue dress she’s wearing. I’m guessing that would be her color of choice.

“That would work,” Will says, and gives himself a once-over in the mirror. “You owe me for this, bro.”

I laugh. “When you get married, I’ll wear pink.”

Will’s face drops, and he grumbles under his breath, something that sounds like “never going to happen,” when the clerk steps up to us.

He pulls out a measuring tape and gets to work on sizing us up. Once we’re both back in our regular suits, I step from the change room and find Megan on her phone. She glances up at me and smiles. “I guess you don’t need me anymore.”

Oh, how wrong she is.

She gestures with a nod. “I have to head next door to do a dress fitting.”

“You’re picking out Sara’s dress?”

“Crazy as it sounds, I am. All designers want to be worn by your bride, so they’re bending over backward for me.”

Bending over backward.

Kill me now.

I check my watch. “I can come help, if you want.”

“I’m sure you must have more important things to do on a Friday night.”

“This is the highlight reel,” I say, and she laughs.

“What about Will?” she asks, pointing a finger back and forth between the two of us as Will checks his phone. “You two must want to hang out.”

She’s giving me an out, and if I knew what was good for me, I’d take it. I’m about to agree because any more time with her is going to do me in.

“Can’t,” Will pipes in. “I’m off to St. Thomas.”

Megan frowns. “You have work in the US Virgin Islands?”

“A little work, but I plan to take some much-needed rest and relaxation before Alec’s wedding,” Will says.

“Why not go to St. Moritz?” Megan asks, and I note the way her gaze darts to mine at the mention of the ski resort. Have her thoughts gone back to the night she came to my room? “Your grandfather owns half the place.”

“All the more reason for me to go to St. Thomas, where I have my own private villa,” Will says.

“He likes his privacy,” I say, and Megan nods.

“Okay, well, if you have nothing better to do, then come help me pick out a dress,” she says to me. I shouldn’t go. I should just go home and down a few brandies and forget all about Megan, but I’m clearly some kind of masochist, because I nod and follow her out of the store. We go to the bridal boutique one shop down and I open the door for her. Her body brushes mine and I bite back a moan of want as she slips inside.

We head to the back of the store where there’s a dais and a series of mirrors. Megan introduces us to Maria, who will help her try on gowns, and I pick up a magazine and flip through it blindly when she’s led into the change room. A few minutes later Megan comes out looking elegant in a big ball gown. While it’s nice, and it fits her beautifully, it’s not something I can see her wearing on her wedding day. Then again, it’s not her who’s going to be wearing it and walking toward me as I wait at the altar.

She steps up onto the podium and examines herself in front of the mirrors. I lean forward, brace my elbows on my knees. She’s frowning when she turns to me.

“What do you think?”

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