starts pulling me forward.
“Wait,” I say, digging my heels in and halting our process, pointing at my discovery.
“The tree topper?” he confirms.
“Yes.” I step in front of him and place my hands on his chest. “What do you think? Because I think it’s magnificent.”
“Magnificent,” he repeats, his eyes lighting with my description. “Sounds like we have to have it.”
“Not if you don’t like it. Do you like it?”
He cups my head and kisses me. “Yes, baby. I like it.” Releasing me, he glances around, motioning to a petite red-haired woman who rushes to our aid. “We want it,” he states, indicating the angel.
She laughs. “You wouldn’t believe how many people ask about that angel, but unfortunately that’s how I discovered it’s not for sale.”
Liam doesn’t laugh. “We want it,” he restates, removing his wallet from his pocket. “If you don’t sell it, we need to know who does.” He hands her his store card. “Whatever the cost, we’ll pay it, including your services to locate a new one.”
Her eyes go wide and she looks uncomfortable, glancing at the card. “Mr. Stone. I apologize. It’s not really a matter of cost. It’s been on the tree for years. The manufacturer went out of business.”
“Then we’ll take this one.”
She shakes her head. “You aren’t the first to ask that, either. Management won’t allow us to sell it.”
Liam’s lips quirk as if she’s said something amusing. “Why don’t you let me take the pressure off of you,” he glances at her badge, “Ms. Williams? I’ll talk to your manager.”
“Oh well. Yes, of course. I’ll find her. Where will you be?”
“Ladies formal wear,” Liam says, his hand settling on the small of my back.
“Yes sir. I’ll find you.” She turns and rushes away.
Liam and I start across the floor toward the elevators. “We’ll just have to find another one,” I say. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“You want that one,” he states stubbornly. “You’re getting that one.”
I stop and grab his arm, halting him. “Liam. I’m fine with another topper.”
“I’m not,” he says, lacing our fingers together. “Come. We need to find a dressing room.”
He puts us in motion, forcing me to double-step to keep pace with him. “ We don’t need to find a dressing room, Liam Stone,” I insist, feeling panicked at the idea of being caught. He ignores my words that are a measure of defiance in the act that is all kinds of sexy when it shouldn’t be. Not now. I’m just too used to staying off the radar to take this risk. “I’m locking the door,” I vow.
He casts me another one of those wolfish looks he’d given me in the car and leads me between the racks of clothes. “If there is one.”
I glower. “You have to behave, Liam Stone. I know you’re just teasing me. You’re too private of a person to be serious. And I need to find a dress and eat. I’m starving.”
This time, he’s the one who stops and faces me. “ I’m starving, Amy, but not for food.” His voice is pure wicked heat, his aqua eyes a shade deeper than normal. “But,” he adds, “you are right. I am private in all things. I fully intend to have you all to myself. Which is why you need to try on a dress.”
We take an elevator, continuing our banter as we go to exit and walk down a hallway where he glances at the glass doors beside us. I follow his lead to discover that we’re at the entrance to the store’s private bridal boutique.
My chest pinches with some unrecognizable emotion I don’t try to analyze. “No. No. We don’t have time to do this today.”
“They’ll bring you party dresses to try on.”
“We haven’t even decided on where we’re getting married. I don’t know what kind of dress I want.”
He pulls me to him, pressing me into a nook behind a wall of clothes that hides us from the open shopping area. “Let’s decide now. Baby, I want to marry you. The sooner we make decisions, the
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