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Kelsey Armstrong Waters stared at her reflection in the three-way mirror and grinned. The vintage lace veil looked as if it had been woven specifically for the porcelain flower wreath she’d found in Paris. Any one of Kelsey’s brides would consider herself fortunate to wear the exquisite pieces.
She adjusted the veil slightly. Oh, my. Kelsey blinked. Once. Twice.
.....
Something had happened when he’d seen Kelsey’s reflection in the mirror. He’d stood transfixed as if watching a piece of living art. Unguarded expressions had played on her face, and emotion clogged his throat. He’d felt as if he were trespassing, but he hadn’t been able to stop staring at her. Tall and willowy, with long chestnut hair that shone and sparkled as if each strand had been individually cleaned and polished, she looked so young, so soft, so sweet. The wistful smile on her face had touched his heart and he’d wanted to capture the moment. For the first time in a long while, he’d felt the racing of his pulse, the pounding of his heart. And he’d liked the way it felt. Liked it a lot.
When Kelsey had realized she wasn’t alone, the glowing bride-to-be had metamorphosed into the cool, distant professional. No flirting, no fawning. She’d even called him “Mr. Addison” and kept it strictly business.
.....
