Best Man Under The Mistletoe

Christmas wedding bells are ringing!

Everyone in Royal, Texas, now knows former special agent Gabe Walsh’s connection to the blackmailer terrorizing the town. And Gabe’s suddenly guilty by association. Worst thing is, Chelsea Hunt blames him for the compromising photos of her that everyone’s talking about. But since he and Chelsea are planning the Christmas wedding of their best friends, Gabe has many opportunities to show the sexy cowgirl just what a good guy he really is. And apparently he’s pretty convincing, because she soon winds up in his bed! But is this just a holiday fling or the real thing?

“You came here to tell me that we’re going to bed?” Chelsea asked.

“I came here to tell you that I’m backing off,” Gabe said. “I’m respecting the fact that you’re torn up about everything that’s happened and that’s why you’re avoiding me. I don’t want to make things more difficult, especially with our best friends getting married.”

Chelsea opened her mouth, then closed it.

“Speechless?” he asked with a slight grin. “That wasn’t the reaction I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“Well, you didn’t slam the door in my face, so I’m already a step above where I thought I’d be.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling, but failed.

“And a sexy grin? Hell, I better leave while I’m ahead.”

Chelsea took a step back. As much as her body wanted to invite him in, she also had to be smart.

No one had ever tempted her the way Gabe Walsh had.

* * *

Best Man Under the Mistletoe

is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club:

Blackmail— No secret—

or heart—is safe in Royal, Texas…

Best Man Under the Mistletoe

Jules Bennett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

National bestselling author JULES BENNETT has penned over forty contemporary romance novels. She lives in the Midwest with her high-school-sweetheart husband and their two kids. Jules can often be found on Twitter chatting with readers, and you can also connect with her via her website, www.julesbennett.com.

To the Harlequin Desire team:

Stacy, Charles & Tahra.

They say it takes a village to raise a child…

The same is true for books.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

One

“This investigation has really been a community effort. Thanks to the diligence of so many in Royal, the final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. Maverick has been identified as Royal’s own Dale, a.k.a. Dusty, Walsh.”

Gabe Walsh muted the TV and tossed the remote onto the leather sofa. He didn’t want to hear any more about his late uncle’s betrayal. The old bastard had passed away last week from a brain tumor and now the mess he’d caused to so many in the town of Royal, Texas, would have a ripple effect on Gabe’s security firm. He would undoubtedly have a hell of a mess to clean up.

He still couldn’t believe it. His uncle Dusty was Maverick, the cyber criminal who had terrorized members of the Texas Cattleman’s Club for months now, revealing their secrets online and often resorting to blackmail.

Perhaps worst of all, he’d leaked nude photos of Chelsea Hunt, taken without her knowledge in the locker room at her gym.

According to Gabe’s law-enforcement sources, all evidence pointed to Dusty working alone, except when it came to the locker room photos. There was now another person of interest in that particular crime. A woman, the police claimed. They were still studying months of surveillance-camera footage from the public areas of the gym to figure out who could have planted the camera.

Who the hell had aided his uncle? And was that the only instance when Dusty had taken on an accomplice? The man had been dying. There was no way Dusty could’ve done so much on his own. The man had been too feeble, too weak.

Though not so weak that he couldn’t plot to destroy lives. Luckily, the citizens of Royal—Chelsea Hunt included—had risen above his attempts to take them down. Investigators had also seen through his elaborate attempt to pin the crimes on someone else.

Gabe raked a hand through his hair and glared at the screen as Sheriff Nate Battle continued his press conference. A picture of Gabe’s once robust, smiling uncle filled the top right corner of the TV screen while the sheriff spoke.

How and why Uncle Dusty had pulled off such a grand scheme of blackmail and betrayal were open questions, but one thing was undeniable. He’d managed to put a big dark cloud over the family security firm, the Walsh Group—Gabe’s new baby. As if taking over a company wasn’t difficult and risky enough, now he was forced to deal with the backlash of questions from clients, both old and new, because of his relationship with Dusty.

How the hell was he supposed to dodge all of this bad press? The business’s reputation was on the line. Sure, finances were the least of his concern. He’d busted his ass from the start of his career, saved every dollar, invested wisely and had worked his way up to be the best in the industry. He could close up shop and never work another day in his life, but he valued his reputation and family loyalty. Ironic now, wasn’t it?

Gabe once again thought of Chelsea Hunt and it had him seeing red. His uncle had gotten his hands on compromising photos and proceeded to put them out for the town to see. And why? Yes, Chelsea had played an important role in the Maverick investigation, bringing in computer-security experts from out of town to help. But the leak was part of a bigger pattern: Maverick had been especially vicious when targeting women. One theory was that Maverick acted this way because the Texas Cattleman’s Club had begun admitting women a few years back. By contrast, Dusty had been passed over for membership, one of the things that incurred his wrath.

Gabe’s uncle had certainly been hidebound in his views of women—but going so far as to leak nude photos like that? What had been wrong with the man? Chelsea hadn’t deserved the embarrassment and scandal that had been brought upon her by his uncle and some unknown accomplice.

Gabe cursed as he spun away from the television. He had been careful not to look at the photos when they’d been released for all the world to see. He hadn’t wanted to be totally disrespectful or to violate her privacy. Plus, where Chelsea was concerned, he had problems of his own to deal with.

Replaying that kiss he and Chelsea had shared last week, it was a wonder he hadn’t lost his damn mind.

Gabe and Chelsea had started spending a lot of time together when their best friends, Shane Delgado and Brandee Lawson, had asked them to be best man and maid of honor in their wedding. Brandee had wanted Gabe and Chelsea to be very hands-on in the process. Gabe had known full well when they’d started working together that they’d be spending quite a bit of time alone.

But the other night, something had shifted. They’d been making name cards for the reception, which had triggered an argument, which had his last ounce of control snapping.

Gabe had grabbed the gold ribbon from Chelsea and tossed it aside, gripping her face and taking what he’d wanted for months.

Raking a hand through his hair, Gabe tried like hell to forget how she’d tasted, how she’d felt against him. But the scene replayed over and over in his head.

He could use a stiff drink and the company of a good woman between the sheets. But right at the moment neither would solve his problems...and the only woman he wanted between his sheets was the very one he needed to forget.

To top it all off on this hellish day, he had to meet Chelsea for some wedding planning nonsense later. How was she handling the news that his late uncle had been Maverick? Would she blame Gabe simply by association?

It was bad enough that he’d been roped into the wedding planning. He may as well have given up his man card for all the flowers and candles he’d been sniffing lately. If Shane and Brandee hadn’t specifically asked Gabe and Chelsea to help with the planning, Gabe would’ve given this project the middle finger. But Shane was as close as family and, even though Gabe didn’t believe in happily-ever-after, he was glad to see his best friends so in love.

Gabe just wished Chelsea wasn’t the maid of honor because until the Christmas nuptials rolled around, dodging her wasn’t an option. Nearly every single day he’d be spending hours looking at seating charts, passing on the bride’s playlist to the band, finalizing the caterers and florists...and all of that time would only lead to one more thing. Another kiss.

Why the hell did it have to be this woman who intrigued him? At first he’d wondered if he’d just felt bad for all the negative attention she’d been getting, but he’d quickly squelched that notion. He wasn’t one to take pity and turn it into lust.

But there was something about her strength and the fact she wasn’t letting this scandal break her when it very well should. He admired anyone who could rise above adversity and still remain in control.

And then there was just plain, old-fashioned, sexual desire.

She was hot, and he was a man with breath in his lungs. He would have been a fool not to be attracted.

That kiss had upped the stakes and now all he could think of was getting another taste. Given everything that had transpired today, was that wrong? Should he even allow himself to crave the woman his uncle had publicly humiliated?

Muttering a curse, Gabe turned the television off and grabbed his keys. He might as well get this little meeting with Chelsea over with and then go back to doing damage control at the Walsh Group. Not only would the clients be pouring in with questions, his employees would, too. The sheriff had told Gabe about his findings before the press conference—and cleared him of any wrongdoing, for that matter—so Gabe had already given a heads-up to his assistants that this was coming and instructed them on how to handle the expected calls.

The people in Royal knew him, knew that he wouldn’t partake in something so heinous. But there were clients who didn’t know him and those were the ones he’d be personally calling and meeting face-to-face. He wasn’t looking forward to doing damage control, but he’d worked too hard for his impeccable reputation and he’d be damned if he let anyone tarnish it...especially family.

That was business. He knew how to handle all of that, but he had no clue how to approach Chelsea. No doubt she’d heard on the news or directly from Sheriff Battle the identity of her blackmailer and Gabe would be the perfect target for her to take out her frustrations. And then there was the unacknowledged-but-hard-to-ignore attraction between them.

But she was in a vulnerable position and only a complete jerk would take advantage of that. She may put on a strong front, something he commended her for, but no doubt she still hurt. All he could do at this point was to show her he wasn’t like his uncle, that he was completely innocent, and he was there for her if she needed him.

* * *

The screwdriver hurtled past Gabe’s head and Chelsea cursed herself for missing. She was still shaken up by the news, that was all. If she’d been fully on her game, she would’ve nailed the target. The sexy, arrogant, infuriating target.

She didn’t condone violence, but this man had stepped into her bad mood at the wrong time. She’d only just learned of the Maverick’s true identity and Gabe Walsh was guilty by association. For all she knew, Gabe had helped cover his uncle’s tracks. He was a sneaky PI, after all. Even though the sheriff had assured her there was no evidence Gabe had any involvement whatsoever, she was furious and needed to lash out.

“Is that any way to treat someone who’s come to help you build this archway for the ceremony?” Gabe asked, slowly making his way toward her.

Chelsea grabbed the hammer. “I don’t need, nor did I ask for your help.”

Gabe cocked his head and kicked up his wicked smile. Gabe had that whole don’t-give-a-damn attitude down pat; nothing ever bothered him. He seduced and charmed everyone in his path...but not her. And she wasn’t going to think of that kiss, either. She wasn’t.

“Brandee texted me and asked me to come help you with the arch for the ceremony,” he informed her.

Chelsea glanced at the piles of wood, flowers, tulle and wire all spread out in the old barn at Hope Springs, Brandee’s ranch. Brandee could’ve hired a company to take over the decorating and organizing of the big day, but Chelsea had wanted to make things special for her friend. She’d wanted to be hands-on since she knew Brandee better than any stranger would.

But Chelsea would rather have worked her fingers to the bone than ask Gabe for any help. Now that the Maverick had been revealed as his uncle, Chelsea felt utterly betrayed.

“I wasn’t sure how Dusty managed to get those images of me and splash them around, but now it’s pretty clear he had help.” Chelsea continued to stare at the man who was too sexy to be legal. The tattoos, the scruff along his jawline, the arrogant stance. “You were his errand boy.”

“What?” Gabe said, jerking back. “I—”

“Anything for the family,” she went on, dropping the hammer to the concrete floor at her side instead of hurling it at his head next. “You were trained to take over the family business. Taking orders from your dying uncle just came naturally.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabe countered, an edge to his voice. “You might want to have evidence before making such claims—evidence you will never find because I had nothing to do with the pictures or the blackmail.”

He may have been a former special agent, he may have put the fear of God in many suspects in his time, but Chelsea wasn’t afraid. The only thing she worried about was how he managed to infuriate and turn her on at the same time. She hated how her body responded to just the sight of him when her mind told her she knew better. Why did lust have to cloud her judgment?

“I’m not arguing.” She turned her attention back to the mess before her. “I have too much to do here. If Brandee doesn’t see some progress, she’ll worry it won’t be done in time, and I won’t have my best friend stressed for her special day.”

“Then it sounds like you need an extra pair of hands.”

Chelsea shuddered. Gabe had used those hands to grip her shoulders and haul her against his hard body as he’d kissed her so fast, so fierce—

“I say we call a truce.”

Chelsea swallowed and finally nodded. He was right. They had to work together and she had to believe the sheriff when he’d said Gabe was in the clear. She just wanted someone to blame, someone to take her anger out on.

“A truce,” she said. “I think I can handle that.”

Gabe flashed that smile again. “So what are we doing here?”

“Brandee wants a large arch for her and Shane to stand beneath to exchange their vows. She wants it to be elegant and Christmassy, not tacky. Everything will be done in whites and golds and clear lights. She told me to order one, but I wanted to make it so she had something special and meaningful.”

Chelsea couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at her friend’s upcoming nuptials. Chelsea may be hard, she may be independent and run the tech side of Hunt & Co. like a boss, but she was still a woman with dreams. She didn’t want a man to take care of her, but she certainly wouldn’t mind a man to hold her at night, to appreciate her Italian-lace lingerie collection, to laugh with her and share stories about their days. Was it too much to ask to meet just one man who wasn’t a jerk?

“Is there a blueprint for this or are we just winging it?” Gabe asked.

Chelsea came to her feet, dusting her hands against her holey jeans. “No blueprint, but Shane had everything cut and ready to assemble once I told him my ideas. I told Brandee I’d take care of it since it’s my idea. I have a picture on my phone of what it should look like. But it’s just a mock-up of the picture in my head.”

She slid her phone from her pocket and pulled up the image.

Gabe came to stand beside her, having the nerve to brush his shoulder against hers.

She shouldn’t be attracted to such a...a...wolfish man. He was a hell of a kisser, but he was also related to the enemy. That was reason enough for her to be leery. Wasn’t it? There was only so far a hot bod and toe-curling kiss could take Gabe Walsh. So what if she’d had vivid, detailed dreams of the infamous kiss and all the delicious things her mind conjured up without her permission?

“Subtle,” she said as she took a half step to the side. “Don’t try using this opportunity to kiss or seduce me or whatever else you’re thinking.”

Gabe came around and stood directly in front of her. She still held her phone out, her hands frozen in the narrow space between them. His deep eyes held her in place, and Chelsea trembled as if he’d touched her bare skin.

“Darlin’, when you were kissing me, you weren’t exactly shy about it.”

Chelsea opened her mouth to object, but Gabe leaned forward, coming to within a breath of her lips.

“So don’t try to deny that you’re attracted to me,” he murmured. “And I won’t deny it, either. But right now, we have more pressing things to do than worry about who is seducing whom.”

Keeping his eyes on hers, he eased back and slid the phone from her grip. Damn the man for making her entire body heat up like he’d lit a match from within. The broad shoulders, the scruff along his jawline, the ink peeking from beneath his fitted T-shirt...and the way he’d drawled out “darlin’” had her ready to ignore those red flags and kiss him again. Maybe it hadn’t been that good and she’d remembered all wrong. Had her toes actually curled? Had her body tightened with arousal?

Stifling a groan, Chelsea stepped over the supplies and went to the pile of wood. As much as she liked to think she could do everything on her own, she was going to need Gabe’s help here.

“This is some setup they’re wanting,” Gabe said behind her. “I guess we better get started. The wedding is only a couple weeks away and this isn’t our only task.”

Gabe again came up beside her, this time not touching, and handed over her phone. “Tell me we’ve decided on the florist. I really don’t want to look at one more plant or bloom or branch or anything else that I know nothing about.”

“The florist has been nailed down and contacted. Now, we need to finalize the appetizers and beer and wine list for the combined bachelor/bachelorette party,” she told him. “I have the final numbers for those who sent in their RSVP.”

Gabe blew out a sigh. “I’ll handle all the menus if you promise I don’t have to pick out tablecloths or do little calligraphy place cards.”

Chelsea crossed her arms and turned to fully face him. “Well, Gabriel Walsh, I’m disappointed in your knowledge of contemporary weddings. Calligraphy cards are definitely a thing of the past. I actually already ordered name cards in the same design and font as Brandee’s invitations. You really should update your wedding magazine subscriptions if you’re ever going to do this yourself.”

“If I ever lose my mind and marry, I’ll let my bride handle everything.” He raked a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Food and alcohol are easy. Especially since we’re having the party at the TCC. What else do you want me to do that doesn’t involve something frilly or flowery?”

“Someone is grouchy,” she muttered. “Is it because I threw the screwdriver at your head or because I’m not throwing myself at you after the kiss?”

Gabe shoved his hands in his pockets and tipped his head sideways to look her in the eyes. “Are we going to be able to get along to get through this together?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Depends. You keep your hands and lips to yourself and we might just. And just so you know, I tend to believe you when you say you didn’t know what your uncle was up to. Shane and Brandee wouldn’t put their trust in you if you were involved. But you better hope like hell there isn’t a connection, because if I find out there is, I won’t miss the next time I throw a screwdriver at your head.”

Two

“This doesn’t look right. Is it leaning a little?”

Gabe stood back and stared at the arch he and Chelsea had been grunting over for the better part of the day. They’d gotten along surprisingly well, as long as they’d kept the topic of conversation on the wedding...or when they weren’t talking at all.

When the silence stretched between them, though, his mind started conjuring up all sorts of naughty thoughts and each one starred the woman at his side. The way she wore her holey jeans low on her hips and that fitted tank, she didn’t look like an expert hacker and CTO of the most prestigious chain of steakhouses in the South.

She could drive any man out of his mind, even if she was spitting in his face and smarting off with that sweet mouth. It was one of the many reasons he couldn’t help but admire her. She didn’t take crap from anyone and was her own hero, saving herself from the evils in her own world. Damn if that wasn’t sexy as hell.

It didn’t go unnoticed how she’d kept glancing his way. The attraction simmering just below that steel barrier she kept around her was going to explode...and he damn well would be the man to experience her passion. He’d had just enough of a taste to crave more, and she could deny all she wanted with her words, her body told a whole different story.

He gave the arch a slight push. “Did that help?”

Chelsea stepped back, angling her head. “That did it.”

Gabe’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the text from one of his assistants. After a quick response, he slid the phone back in.

“Late for a lunch date with your girlfriend?” Chelsea asked as she gathered the tools and put them off to the side.

“If you want to know if I’m seeing anyone, just ask.”

She tucked her shoulder-length, honey-blond hair behind one ear and quirked a brow. “I didn’t ask.”

“I’m not seeing anyone,” he informed her, taking long strides to close the distance between them. “A fact you should know before you kiss me again.”

Chelsea crossed her arms beneath her chest and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on hers. “You’re arrogant enough to think that’s going to happen?”

“Arrogant? Perhaps, though I’m positive it’s only a matter of time.” Whistling, he turned to head from the barn out to his car. Any second he expected a tool to hit the back of his head or go whirling by his ear. But nothing happened. He was proud she showed such restraint. Obviously he was growing on her.