His Stolen Bride (Chicago Sons) Read Free Page B

out,” said the younger man with the flashy hair.
    “Not if you don’t tell her she won’t,” said the first man, a warning in his tone.
    Jackson had half a mind to tell her himself. Vern sounded like a pig. And most of his friends didn’t seem any better.
    “Gracie won’t last, anyway,” said the heavyset man.
    “Vern will trade up,” said the balding one.
    “Uncle Manfred’s girlfriends have been twenty-five for the past thirty years.”
    “Wives age, girlfriends don’t.”
    They all laughed, except for the young guy. He frowned instead. “Crista’s different.”
    “No, she’s not.” The first groomsman slapped him on the back. “You’re young, naive. All your girlfriends are twenty-five.”
    “I don’t cheat on them.”
    “Then you’re not trying hard enough.”
    “Get with the program.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson saw two white limos pull up to the curb. The groomsmen spotted them, too, and they turned to head up the wide staircase to the cathedral entrance, their voices and laughter fading with the distance.
    So, Vern was cheating on Crista. It was a coldhearted and idiotic move, but it was none of Jackson’s business. Maybe she knew and accepted it. Or maybe she wasn’t as smart as everyone seemed to think, and she was oblivious. Or maybe—and this was a real possibility—she was only marrying the guy for his money and didn’t care about his fidelity one way or the other.
    The limo doors opened and a group of pretty bridesmaids spilled out of one. The driver of the other vehicle quickly hopped to the back door, helping the bride step onto the sidewalk.
    Crista straightened and rose in the bright sunshine, looking absolutely stunning. Her auburn hair was swept up in braids, thick at the nape of her neck, wispy and delicate around her beautiful face. Her shoulders were bare and looked creamy smooth. The white dress was tight across her breasts and her waist, showing off an amazing figure. The lace and beading on the full skirt glittered with every little movement.
    Jackson didn’t normally fantasize about brides. But if he had, they’d look exactly like her. His annoyance at Vern redoubled. What was the man’s problem? If Jackson had someone like Crista in his bed, he’d never so much as look at another woman.
    The bridesmaids giggled and clustered around her while the drivers returned to their cars to move them from the busy street.
    “This is it,” said one bridesmaid, fussing with Crista’s bouquet and taking a critical look at her face and hairdo.
    “I’m okay?” Crista asked.
    “You’re perfect.”
    Crista drew in a deep breath.
    The women started for the staircase that led to the cathedral’s big front doors. Jackson’s first instinct was to step forward and offer his arm, but he held back.
    Crista spotted him. She looked puzzled at first, as if she was struggling to recognize him. Their gazes locked, and he felt a shot to his solar plexus.
    Her eyes were green as a South Pacific sea and just as deep, flickering in the sunshine. She looked honest. She looked honorable. In that split second, he knew her father’s words had been true. She wouldn’t put up with a cheating husband, which meant she didn’t know about Vern and Gracie.
    Jackson wanted to shout at her to stop, to get out of here. She might not know it, but she was making a mistake. Deep down in his gut, he knew she was making a terrible mistake.
    Maybe he should tell her the truth about Vern, just call out, right here, right now. Then at least she’d know what she was getting herself into. He told himself to do it. He owed Vern absolutely nothing. He formed the words inside his head, opened his mouth and was ready to blurt it out.
    But then a bridesmaid whispered to Crista. She laughed, and her gaze broke from Jackson’s, releasing him from the spell.
    The women moved up the staircase, and the moment was lost.
    He shook himself. It was time for him to leave. There was nothing more he could do