Perfect Bride for Christmas, A

by Dyann Love Barr

  But Alex wasn’t here. Sydney had staked her claim.

  She swiped a tear away, angry with herself for allowing this to happen again. She’d become an Alex addict with no hope of recovery. And like most addicts, admission was the first step. Making reparation to Sydney would be hard. She had to let Alex go. It might be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she had to. For her and her children’s sake.

  Zoe knew it was time to go on with her life, maybe look for love in the future.

  The coffee in her cup grew cold. She poured it down the sink and started to get a new one when her cell phone rang. The caller ID flashed Brenda’s 203

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  number.

  “Hi, Brenda.” It took everything Zoe had to keep the impatience from her voice.

  “Zoe, I wonder if I can ask a favor?” Her voice sounded cotton candy sweet and melting. She wanted something big.

  “Ask away, I’ll give you an answer after I hear what you have to say.”

  Brenda’s words tumbled out with the finesse of clowns in circus car. “Look, here’s the thing. I’m in a bit of a bind, a financial bind, and I wondered if you could, you know, like loan me about twenty-thousand dollars.”

  Zoe bit her lip to keep from saying anything vicious. She shouldn’t be surprised, Brenda always came up short of cash, but she’d had over fifty-thousand last year.

  “What happened to the money James left you?”

  “You know, this and that. I thought if you could help me out, tie me over until I find another job—”

  “Another job? How many does this make this year? Three—four?

  “Look, it doesn’t matter. I need some cash quick.

  My car is going to be repoed, my rent is overdue. You don’t want to see me out on the streets do you?

  Besides, you owe it to me.”

  Here it comes, Zoe thought. Brenda thought she’d bought Zoe a one-way ticket for a guilt trip. It wouldn’t work this time.

  “No, I don’t owe you anything. Most of the estate is in trust for the children, the rest is for monthly expenses. I don’t see you anywhere on my list of debts.” She knew she sounded harsh but she couldn’t help it, not after what she told the girls.

  “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” Brenda hesitated for a moment. “I want to come to Kansas City to deliver my presents in person before they track me down and take the car. Can I at least do 204

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas that?”

  Zoe rubbed the headache blooming behind her forehead. Damn it, she didn’t want to deal with Brenda right now. “Sure, why not? I’ve got a big event on Christmas Eve, so why don’t you try to come tomorrow. The highways should be clear by then.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Zoe.” She let out a little laugh.

  “I didn’t want to spend the holidays alone.”

  “Fine, well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safe.”

  Zoe frowned when she hung up. What could she be thinking? She really didn’t have time to put up with any of Brenda’s woe-filled bullshit. Still, it was Christmas, and James would want peace in his family—just not at the price tag of $20,000. He’d made it perfectly clear what he thought of Brenda’s over-the-top spending and drinking. Zoe promised herself she wouldn’t be an enabler anymore, but that didn’t mean Brenda couldn’t see the girls.

  ****

  Sydney picked at her meal. She hadn’t eaten a bite, just poked around at the garlic mashed potatoes covered in white gravy. Even the green beans were untouched. “What’s wrong?” Alex got to his feet, picked up the empty plates, and headed to the trash. “You’ve never had Chicken Fried Steak before?” Mom had gone into the living room, exhausted. She’d asked Alex and Sydney to clear the supper table. As if Sydney would lift a finger to help.

  “It’s so—fattening.” Sydney’s lip curled. “A simple salad with raspberry vinaigrette would have sufficed.”

  “You eat here, you get comfort food.” He scraped the bits and pieces on one of the plate into the trash.

  “There are fixings in the fridge if you want a fancy salad. Nothing’s stopping you.”

  Sydney eyed him with surprise. “You know I 205

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  don’t cook. I’ll do that after we get married.”

  Alex had to smile at that. “Throwing together a salad isn’t brain surgery, Syd.”

  She gave a delicate sniff. “We could’ve eaten out with friends.”

  “I didn’t want to eat out.” He picked up another plate and attacked it with the spatula. “Mom may think she’s able to do everything, but I don’t trust her in the kitchen. She has this notion she can balance on one foot while juggling these heavy pots and pans.”

  “I can’t eat this.” She pushed the plate away in disgust. “She could’ve grilled a little bit of chicken, couldn’t she? If your mother insists on cooking, she ought to take the tastes of her guests into consideration.”

  “Number one, you are not a guest. You were the one who insisted on staying here before the wedding.

  Second, this isn’t a restaurant. If you want something different, you’re out of luck.” He stopped scrapping and sat the plate on the counter.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m stressed out,” Sydney jumped from her chair. Panic lanced through Sydney’s eyes, her chin went up. “There’s a lot to do. By the way, I made plans for us. The Houseman’s have invited us for drinks and dancing at the country club to celebrate our marriage.”

  “Sydney, how many times to I have to tell you, I can’t leave Mom alone?”

  “What about those brothers of yours? Can’t they watch her? How much work does it take to sit with a cripple?”

  Alex jammed his hands into his pocket. He had to hold back the temptation to grab her and shake the hell out of her. “I made it my responsibility.

  Besides, Clint and Heath have plans.”

  “They can’t be bothered to change their plans?”

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  A Perfect Bride for Christmas Her lips turned into a pout as she sidled up to him.

  “I wouldn’t ask it of them.” He tried to step away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  Her long body brushed his, her hips rolled against his groin in invitation. He tried to back away, but she held on tighter. “We have to talk, Syd. It’s important.”

  “I don’t want to talk.” Her pouty voice grated against his nerves. “I want to have fun like we used to.” Alex reached up to untangle her arms. “Not tonight.”

  Her emotions did a one-eighty as she jerked away. “When did you become so hateful?”

  “About the same time you started to act like a spoiled brat.”

  “I’m going upstairs to change. The Houseman’s are meeting us at Maintenant on the Plaza. You’re welcome to join us.” She flounced out of the kitchen.

  Alex spent the next few minutes getting the dishes in the dishwasher. He hit the wash cycle and leaned back against the counter to gather his thoughts.

  He should’ve told Sydney he wanted out—no postponement, just out of the marriage. Lyle’s not so veiled threats hammered away in his head. He couldn’t do that to his family but he couldn’t live with himself if he went through with it.

  Alex spent most of the meal listening to his mother drone on about the samples Zoe planned to bring by tomorrow. Every time her name came up in the conversation, he swore he could still smell her on his body, taste her quivering flesh under his mouth, or see the way she threw back her head the moment she came for him.

  The wedding net closed tighter.

  He had to get out of here. Alex deserted the kitchen as fast as an escapee going over the walls 207

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  and dodging the scent hounds.

  The clock on the microwave said ten ‘til seven.

  Let Sydney meet the Houseman’s on her own. He didn’t like the couple. They were a little too friendly, and the gossip he’d heard left him unsettled. They might run with the so
cial set but Alex didn’t want to get involved in their free-wheeling lifestyle.

  Alex hoped Sydney didn’t come back in the same condition as last night. He’d spent all day wearing a turtleneck because of the hicky she’d left on his neck. Clint or Heath would give him never-ending crap about it if they got one look.

  No, if anyone was up for a heartfelt it was Clint.

  Hadn’t anyone else around here seen the way he stared at Jesse or the how she returned the favor? If Alex could capture the pheromones rocketing around the room, he’d be a millionaire. Liquid sex in a bottle.

  He’d mosey up to Clint’s room to give him some grief.

  Alex bounded up the stairs and stopped at the closed bathroom door. He smiled at the unmistakable sound of his older brother, cursing under his breath. Oh yeah, time to play.

  Alex banged on the door.

  “What?” Clint barked.

  “You’ve been in there forever. I gotta pee. Let me in,” Alex shouted.

  “Go downstairs.”

  Clint opened the door, dressed only in his jeans, and tried to sidestep Alex. Nope, wasn’t going to happen, Big Brother.

  Clint scowled at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to get dressed here.”

  Alex glanced down at the Rolex Sydney had given him for his birthday. “Where are you off to that requires forty-five minutes in the bathroom?”

  “Let’s see, I showered, I shaved, do you really 208

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas need a full run-down?”

  Clint’s casual tone didn’t fool Alex for a second.

  Steam was building behind those amber eyes. Now to see how far he could push it without ending up a greasy spot on the bathroom floor. “You’ve got a date.” It was hard to keep the ‘nanner-nanner’ out of his voice.

  Clint scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”

  Slowly shaking his head, Alex smirked. “No, you’ve got a date.”

  Clint shouldered past Alex with a less than gentle push, and headed for his bedroom.

  “Where are you going?” Alex did a hop-skip step behind Clint. The sound of Clint grinding his teeth sounded like music to his ears.

  Without looking back, Clint answered, “I’m helping Jesse chaperone Ethan and his friends at the ice rink.”

  “So you have a date with Jesse.” Alex tried not to chuckle, but it got harder by the second. “That’s what that hug was all about when you came in.”

  Clint whirled around, the expression on his face priceless. “What?”

  “When you got here last night. The hug. You hugged our little sister.”

  Alex wanted to do a victory dance the instant Clint tried to fake him out with a puzzled look.

  When that didn’t work, Clint screwed up his face in his best Big Brother frown. “I hugged her. Didn’t you?”

  Alex held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, no need to get testy. If you’ve got a thing for Jesse…”

  He swallowed a snicker. “I didn’t know you liked women who could punch better than you.”

  Clint gave him a throaty growl and bit out, “I don’t have a date with Jesse.”

  “Right. And you haven’t spent virtually all your time with her, either.”

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  Just then, Sydney stepped out of Alex’s bedroom, into the hall, dressed for an evening out.

  “Alex, I need you in here. Stop playing around.” She held the held the top of her dress closed at her neck.

  The dark green cashmere flowed down her body, draping over her pert breasts, down her hips, and dipping until it defined her mound.

  Now it was Alex’s turn to frown. “I’m busy right now, Sydney. My every waking hour doesn’t belong to this wedding.”

  “If you intend to have everything go smoothly, it better.”

  If Clint hadn’t been standing right in front of them, he’d have told her he didn’t give two shits if the wedding came off at all.

  Alex followed Sydney to her room. She whirled around to face him. “This has nothing to do with the wedding. Well indirectly.”

  Sydney threw herself in his arms, laying her head on his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so awful earlier.” Her eyes slid up to his, pleading for forgiveness. “Your mother’s cooking is so good—I did taste it—really. But I’m afraid I won’t fit into my wedding dress.”

  The emotional roller coaster made Alex dizzy.

  He didn’t know what to say, how to react around her anymore. Deep down, the misgivings poked at him with pitchforks of doubt.

  Sydney stepped away to whirl around. The dress now gaped open until a simple slide of his fingers under the soft fabric would make it fall to the floor.

  He’d done it before. The long line of her spine dipped down to the rise of her derrière. She never wore underwear with the soft, dark green cashmere jersey.

  “Zip my dress would you?” She lifted her hair to present her back, and a zipper he well knew she’d done on her own before now.

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  A Perfect Bride for Christmas He pulled the zipper up without the usual kiss at the nape of her neck. “Mom expects you to be there tomorrow morning for breakfast. Zoe is coming by with the samples for the reception. We can’t make plans unless we sit down and discuss things.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Sydney picked her coat off the bed and slid it on. “The wedding is on Christmas Eve. I’m booking the country club to make it easy on your mother’s reception. That means we don’t need Zoe Bennett.”

  She brushed past him in a cloud of designer perfume and shot him a look over her shoulder.” She paused at the doorway and shot him a look over her shoulder. “Is that planning enough for you? She vanished out the door

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  Chapter Twenty-One

  The next morning, Sydney sat at his left side, stiff and acting every inch the queen. It might be considered perfect poise in Buckingham Palace but not at Hollyfield where breakfast could end up in a free-for-all.

  Alex’s chest tightened, he clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut. If she’d only meet his family halfway, they’d come the rest of the way. She rolled in earlier this morning in time to meet Heath.

  Sydney’s frosty attitude toward his brother matched the ice in Heath’s eyes.

  His mother bustled around the kitchen on one foot with a spatula in her hand. She took one look at Sydney and shot him a look that asked what’s her problem. Alex her gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. How could he tell her when Sydney’s emotions were all over the map?

  Mom hobbled from the stove and sat a large platter of hash browns on the table.

  Alex gave up nagging his mother about going without her crutches. Let Dr. Singh lower the boom.

  She’d prepared enough food for a small contingent of soldiers, rather than three men and two women.

  Especially, if one of them stuck her nose in the air and pushed her pancakes around her plate. Sydney eyed them as if they were going to jump up and bite her on the ass.

  The mental image of Mom’s silver dollar size pancakes attacking Sydney’s backside made him smile. It was evil, he knew, but impossible to keep 212

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas the smirk off his face.

  Frustration ate at him.

  Dad should be here. Right now, Alex would give anything for a heart-to-heart, even if he didn’t like what his father might tell him. Dad had never shied away from telling the truth to his sons. No, Frank King didn’t put up with bullshit from anyone, not even his kids.

  Neither did Mom, but she couldn’t see things from a man’s perspective, didn’t know the shorthand they used when talking.

  He glanced over at Mom. She was the only person who could make Dad quake in his boots. Alex smiled. Yeah, they all knew she had Dad whipped, but she pretended like he was king of the Hollyfield.

  “It’s about time you got up and moving,” his mother greeted Clint as he walked into the kitchen yawning and bleary-eyed. “I
was just about to send Alex up to drag you out of bed.”

  Clint gave her a false frown and moved to the coffee pot.

  “Long night, brother?” Alex couldn’t resist.

  The smile on Clint’s face never made it to his eyes. “I’m on vacation.”

  “Uh huh.” Alex bent over his plate to shovel in a forkful of pancakes. “I wonder if Jesse would say the same thing.”

  Clint looked over at Heath, waiting for a snarky remark.

  Heath seemed lost in thought, shoving his eggs around on the plate, ignoring the conversation.

  Without having to deal with any rejoinders from Heath, Clint leaned his hip against the countertop and propped his foot on a chair, his eyes on Mom.

  “No crutches again?”

  Alex focused on Clint’s eyes. Let Clint be the point man in this morning’s skirmish.

  Mom threatened Clint with a shake of her 213

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  spatula. She was pretty handy with the spatula—

  she could whip out pancakes or flatten hinnies like nobody’s business. “Eat while you can. Zoe will be here any minute.”

  Sydney let out a lady-like harrumph. “Is she bringing those hellions of hers too?”

  The tension in the kitchen was palpable, thick as if Sydney had lobbed a live grenade into the room.

  Heath and Clint stared at Alex, waiting, knowing he was a slow burn. He’d reached the end of his fuse.

  Alex set down his fork with a deliberation that belied the amount of self-control his action required.

  “Those are my children, Sydney,” he ground out.

  Sydney’s face reddened and twisted into a snarl.

  She started to snap at him, forgetting she had an avid audience. Mom held the spatula like a weapon, while Clint and Heath just stared at her, daring her to say another word.