Reluctantly Yours(99)

Barrett gathers my hands in his.

“Chloe Elizabeth Anderson, I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“What is it?” I feel my eyes widen, because I’m not sure what’s happening. Unless…

“I need a date.” He pulls out a small velvet box from his jacket pocket and takes a knee in front of me. “For the rest of my life.”

Oh my God. I can feel the tears immediately press against my lower lids. Barrett takes my shaking left hand, the other is pressed against my mouth, stifling a sob that’s threatening to escape.

“You make me a better man just by knowing you. Loving you has changed me. For the better. I love you, Chloe. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.” His hazel eyes look up at me in earnest. “Will you marry me?”

I can barely get the words out, but I know my head is nodding yes, because Barrett smiles and slides the diamond onto my finger. I can’t think right now. I’m overwhelmed by emotion, and the weight of the most stunning ring.

Barrett gathers me in his arms and presses his lips to mine.

“You’re it for me, Chloe. I’ll go at whatever pace you want. We can get married tomorrow or be engaged for two years. The only thing I care about is that you’re mine and I’m yours. That’s all I need.”

“Tomorrow seems a little rushed. It won’t give Emma much time to make a dress.”

“Okay, not tomorrow.” He deepens our kiss; his hands slide into my hair and I feel that delicious tug in my core building.

“I love you,” I manage to tell him between kisses. “Should we go home now? I don’t think I can handle having sex in your mom’s pantry.”

Barrett groans, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t really think this through.”

“It’s okay, we can be in bed in fifteen minutes.”

He chuckles, takes my hand and leads me out of the pantry. This time when we enter the living room, it is filled with people. I’m beginning to understand his frustration.

“She said yes!” he announces, lifting my hand with the huge diamond ring on it while smiling down at me. Everyone cheers.

JoAnna approaches and wraps her arms around me.

“Congratulations,” she says, giving me a warm hug.

Then there’s Jules nearly toppling into me with excitement.

“That diamond is ginormous!” she says.

Emma, Carl, Lindsay. Colleagues from work. Bea and her husband, she introduces as Stan. My parents. Wait. My parents.

“I can’t believe you flew to New York for this,” I say, laughing through happy tears.

“Barrett is very convincing.” My dad chuckles. “Especially when he picks you up in a private plane. Makes it hard to say no.”

My mom rolls her eyes at him. “We wouldn’t have missed it, even if we had to fly ourselves,” my mom says with tears in her eyes. “We love you so much.”

We greet the rest of the guests and sip on champagne.

Once everyone is mingling, Barrett and I find a quiet corner and he pulls me into his arms. My fingers stroke his midnight blue tie.

“I was wrong,” he says. “I can’t wait two years to marry you.”

“I can’t wait two years either.” I press my lips to his jaw. “One year.”

“Four months.”

I laugh. “Six.”

“Done.”

There in JoAnna’s penthouse apartment, where our fake dating scheme began, we celebrate our very real engagement with family and friends.

THE END





Sneak Peek





CHAPTER 1


EMMA





The needle pricks my finger and a red dot of blood immediately appears. Shit. There’s no pain, just panic as I stick the punctured digit into my mouth to stop the bleeding. The last thing I need is blood spots on this dress. It’s white, it’s the signature look of my collection and it’s hitting the runway in five minutes.

“Four minutes, everyone!”

Make that, four minutes.

“Models, take your places, please.” Jen, the show coordinator, is waving her arms toward the stage. She’s like the grounds crew at the airport, except instead of waving orange batons, she’s flagging the women into position with a clipboard and a walkie talkie.

The movement around me might seem chaotic to others, but I’m used to it. For many years I watched my mother take the runway at some of New York fashion week’s top shows, her lithe figure donning some of fashion’s iconic looks at the time, and I fell in love with fashion.

I’ve been backstage at every couture fashion show you can imagine, brushing shoulders with names like Lagerfeld and Versace. Okay, maybe it was more like my shoulders to their legs, because I was six, but let’s just say this environment is second nature.

The lights, the energy, the urgent countdown to the start of the show. The designer sewing a model into her dress and stabbing herself in the finger. That part is new but exhilarating all the same.

I tie off the thread, knot it and cut the excess.

“All right, Jocelyn, you’re in.” Taking me for my word, she doesn’t bother to look back as she rushes off to get in line with the other models. When I stand from where I was crouched on the floor to finish the detail on Jocelyn’s dress, I notice the dark black spots on my pink dress. Shit. I had been so focused on sewing the dress, so intent on getting it ready that I hadn’t stopped to think about kneeling on the dirty floor, with the delicate hemline of my dress tucked under my knees.