Page 18 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“Probably right. I can barely see over this pile.” I lifted my chin toward the fitting rooms. “Ladies first.”

There was no attendant on duty, so we just went in. I handed over the clothes, and backed out, wishing I could stay and watch.

I needed to shut my train of thought down pronto before I let myself get carried away. Who was I kidding? I’d already gotten carried away.

Settling into one of the plush chairs outside, I scrolled through emails while listening to the rustle of fabric and occasional muttering from her room. The department was surprisingly empty for this time of day—probably because most sane people were home having dinner instead of clothes shopping with their employee they definitely shouldn’t be thinking about kissing.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Ronan.

Ronan: You aren’t home yet.

Me: Aren’t you usually still at work?

Ronan: I am.

Me: Stalking me, are you?

Ronan: Levi, she is an employee. There are guidelines about this.

Me: I quit then.

Ronan: You can’t quit, you own the damn company.

Me: You’re right! Effective immediately, I’m allowed to do what I want.

“Levi?” Emery called out. “I need help.”

I jumped up and went into the fitting rooms so fast I nearly dropped my phone. “Everything okay in there?”

“The zipper’s stuck and I can’t...” She made a frustrated noise. “Could you maybe...?”

Holy shit. “You want me to come in?”

“Yes? I mean, if you don’t mind. I’m decent, I just can’t get out of this dress.”

I stood slowly. “Coming in,” I warned before pushing open the door.

Emery stood in the middle of the small room, wearing the burgundy sweater dress that hugged every curve perfectly. She’d managed to get the zipper halfway down her back before it caught, leaving a tantalizing strip of skin exposed.

“Hi.” She met my eyes in the mirror.

“Hi.” My voice came out rougher than intended as I shut the door behind me and stepped closer.

She turned her back to me, gathering her hair over one shoulder. The simple gesture exposed the elegant line of her neck, and I struggled to stop myself from trailing my lips along it. Instead, I focused on the stuck zipper, trying to ignore how warm and soft her skin felt under my fingers.

“It’s caught on the fabric. Hold still.” I carefully worked the zipper free.

She shivered as my knuckles brushed against her spine, and I watched goosebumps spread across her exposed skin. The urge to trace them with my tongue was almost overwhelming.

“There.” I dragged the zipper the rest of the way down, revealing more creamy skin and the top of black lace panties that made my mouth go dry. “All set.”

She turned to face me, clutching the front of the dress to her chest. We were standing so close I could count flecks of different shades of brown in her irises.

“Thank you.” Her eyes dropped to my lips.

I should have stepped back. Should have left the room. Should definitely not have been thinking about pressing her up against the mirror and showing her exactly what that dress was doing to me.

My feet were glued firmly in place, my body refusing to comply with the desperate pleas from my brain to back away. Every muscle tensed with the effort it took not to close that last inch of space between us.

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