"I'm not mad at anyone," she muttered.
"Oh, I think you are. Somebody in your life is passive and lets you compensate for it. Who? Julia?"
"No. My mother," she finally admitted. "She never stands up to my father, and Marv walks all over her while she retreats to la-la land. She never stuck up for us when we were kids I always had to stick up for her . And it's still happening! Marv has her locked in a ridiculous castle and terrorized by a maid. He's decided that Julia is beautiful and useless, and deserves the same fate. And that I'm" She broke off.
"You're what?" Alex prompted.
"I'm supposed to keep his books for the rest of my lonely spinster days."
"You're kidding, right?"
She shook her head. "I wish I were."
She wondered if her mother's life would have been different if she hadn't been a sweet, shy girl, one with little self-esteem and even less sense of belonging anywhere. When she'd met brash and demanding Marv on a double date right out of high school, she'd probably been grateful to be propelled in any direction at all. And since he'd propelled her to the altar, she'd happily picked out a dress and veil along the way.
"So that's the reason you're so dead set against this wedding of your sister's. I didn't fully understand when you were talking with Roman."
"I'm not dead set against"
"Yes, you are. But it's Julia's choice to buy into your father's image of her."
"There's been no choice. She's been brainwashed!"
"Those are strong words."
"True ones."
"And they give you the excuse to meddle?"
"What you seem to think of as meddling, I think of as being proactive, okay? I just want Julia to be happy," Sydney said.
A long pause ensued before Alex finally spoke. "And what makes you think you have any control over that?"
Sydney opened and then closed her mouth. "I can stop her from making a mistake."
"No, you can't," he said. "Not really. What are you going to dodrug her and kidnap her? Tie her up until Roman falls in love with someone else? You'll be waiting decades. I've never seen Rome like this. Up until now, he's been an extremely dedicated bachelor, and he's enjoyed every minute of it, too."
"Aha!" said Sydney. "So you're saying he's a hound dog." She mentally apologized to Humphrey.
"No. I did not say that."
"Well, what do you mean? Tell me about him."
"You know what, Jersey? I'm not going to tell you squat about Roman." His smile took some of the sting out of the words. "You don't want to hear anything nice, and you'll use anything else as ammunition."
She opened her mouth to deny it, but he shook his head knowingly at her.
"I'm gonna let you get to know him for yourself." He reached out and turned on the audio system, releasing a torrent of ZZ Top into the air. "Now where was I?" He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Oh, yes. Wasn't I saying that you have awfully cute knees? They almost make up for your meddling."
* * *
Chapter Ten
Alex grinned as Sydney stiffened and said, "I really think we should leave my knees out of the conversation."
"Why?"
"Because it's flirting."
"No!" Alex exclaimed, in mock horror.
Sydney glared at him. "And peopleguysflirt with Julia, not me."
Alex peered at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "I didn't realize it was an either/or situation."
"You know what 1 mean. I'm the Brain and she's always been the Beauty."
"Sydney, that's ridiculous. Those are labels, not mutually exclusive qualities. Julia's not brainless, and you're not ugly."
"Gosh, thanks so much for the compliment."
"You know what, you're impossible," Alex said. "I try to flirt with you, and you won't allow it. I don't flirt with you, and you get offended." He turned off the highway and down a long drive that led to a large, pretty, white-columned house. A sign outside proclaimed it the hill country spa.
"But do you want to flirt with me?" Sydney asked, in a small voice.
"Hell, yes!" Alex growled. God knows why .
"Why?"
Of course she had to ask . "What do you mean, why? I just do."
"Well, is it some kind of blind instinct? Primal urge? Or is there something specific that makes you want to flirt with me in particular?"
God Almighty ! How did she expect him to answer that? But he softened at the vulnerability in her eyes: vulnerability she'd deny was there to her last breath; she'd cloaked her voice in scientific interest.
"Sydney, I'm not a single-cell organism. Yes, there are specific reasons I want to flirt with you. One, you've got a mouth on you that just won't quit. Two, you've got those knees, darlin'. And three, you don't expect me to flirt with you, which is refreshing.
"Now, before you open those pretty lips to ask me if there isn't anything else, let me tell you that yes, there is. But those are private, very appreciative thoughts that I'm sure you'd interpret as offensive. So I'm not going to tell you about them." He grabbed a jar of Emulsion. "Okay? I'll be right back."
He closed the car door, amused at her expression, and headed for the entrance of the spa.
"Wait!" she yelled, scrambling out. "I'm coming in with you."
He admired the long, fluid grace of her pale legs in those shorts, and couldn't help wondering what she looked like without them. In fact, the green satin lingerie came forcibly back to mind.
"When you said 'a mouth that won't quit,' " Sydney asked, as she reached him, "what did you mean, exactly?"
Alex shook his head, repressing a grin. "What are you fishing for?"
"I am not fishing," Sydney said. "I am only asking for clarification."
"You are so fishing. You want to know whether I was referring to your irresistible lips"he put his index finger right in the middle of the plump bottom one"or the fact that you say things you shouldn't say and keep on saying them. Admit it!"
Instead, she seemed frozen, held in place by his finger. Reluctantly he removed it, and she licked the lip. He was positive she hadn't meant the gesture to tease, but it was seductive. No, Alex. Don't go there with the Difficult Sister .
He gestured toward the front door. "Shall we?"
Inside the Hill Country Spa they found mood lighting everywhere, along with white wicker furniture padded with floral cushions in soft pastels. Staff in white lab coats and immaculate makeup attended women in white waffle-weave robes and no makeup.
Behind the reception desk, long, shallow, mirrored shelves held dozens of jars, bottles and boxes of beauty products. Alex squinted at them. The packaging was simple, sleek and sophisticated for the most part. The items looked as if they'd been produced by a very elegant science lab. Hmmmm .
Alex looked down at the painted, beribboned baby-food jar in his palm. Sydney could be right, damn it.
"May I help you?" The woman behind the counter was a walking mannequin. She wore a gold name-plate engraved with the name TESSA.
"Nice place you have here," Alex said, smiling at her. She dimpled and tucked a strand of shortish blond hair behind her ear.
"Thank you."
"Have you been open long?"
"About a year." She openly scanned the length of his body, paying special attention to his biceps.
"Well, I'm marketing a new product and I thought maybe I'd leave a sample with you to try." Alex placed the jar on the counter.
"Is that a baby-food jar?"
"Well, we are just starting out. Emulsion is a wonderful face cream. It's made with emu oil"
Tessa wrinkled her nose. "Oh, God, those stinky birds again. Everyone is trying to push them these days!"
Behind him came a definite snort from Sydney.
"and lemon juice, rosemary and lavender." Alex smiled at the mannequin, and watched her eyes widen and then assume a slightly glazed expression.
"I'd love for you to give it a try personally," he purred, pressing the unfair advantage of his looks. "
Would it be okay if I gave you a call in a couple of days to see how it worked for you?"
Tessa practically fell down in her rush to supply her phone number. Was that a gagging noise behind him from the Difficult Sister?
"Thank you, Tessa." Alex gave her a wink before heading for the door. Underhanded tactics, maybe, but he'd bet she'd take a half dozen jars off his hands next week.
Outside, Sydney told him, "That was just disgusting. She practically lunged for that pen to give you her number."
"Well, that was the plan." Alex didn't mention that Tessa, while nice to look at, left him cold.
"Are you going to ask her out?"
"Now, is that really your business?" But he smiled.
Silence.
"Your baby-food jars will not work," Syd continued, undaunted. "If you're not there personally to flirt and seduce the managersand believe me, they're not all femaleyou'll never sell this stuff."
"Thank you for your vote of confidence."
In the car, Sydney whipped out a calculator. "So what's your aunt's cost per unit?"
"It's really pretty much just her labor and the cost of the lemons. She grows the rosemary and lavender on the property behind the house."
"How long does it take her to whip up a batch? How many jars does she get from one batch?"
"Syd, are you double-checking me to make sure my pricing's correct? Because, yes, I have figured in costs of marketing, distribution, manufacturing, and product liability insurance. But for right now, I'm pricing the stuff based on limited production with only local distribution in mind."
"Well, like I said, the key to beauty products is to price them high and package them gorgeously. I'm telling you, my friend can design what you need"
Alex shifted the Mercedes out of reverse and back into park. He turned to face Sydney, removed the calculator from her grasp and took her chin in his hand. "Sydney. Which part of 'no' don't you understand? We Kimballs like to do things our own way, without much helpif any. Now, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but we're okay ." Why was she trying so hard to help him, anyway? Alex had a hunch that she just couldn't help herself.
He gazed at those soft pink lips of hers, at the way they gilded that stubborn-as-hell chin. You could break rocks on her jaw. Reading both those features, without even looking into her eyes, he could see the thoughts going through her mind like goldfish in a bowl: her hurt feelings, her good intentions, her determination that she was rightthat he was being backward.
Well, hell. Maybe he was being backward. But it was his right to be pigheaded, just as it was Julia's right to get married. This little redheaded Bonaparte wore her opinions like epaulets, and she needed to be stripped of her uniform.
Bad metaphor, man . He didn't need to think of Sydney and "stripped" in the same sentenceit started him wondering if she had freckles all over
She didn't say a word, just turned to stare out the window. He actually appreciated the fact that she wouldn't apologize. She wouldn't have meant it.
Alex put the car into drive again. "Tell you what. We'll visit a couple more places with the Emulsion. If you're right, and the baby-food jars get the same reception, then I promise I'll think about hiring your friend."
The smile she rewarded him with was pure sunshine. "Promise?"
"Yeah."
"Then Donna's hired, 'cause you're going to get the same response."
And damn it, he did.
* * *
Sydney tried to contain her smugness over lunch, she really did, but she had a feeling that it oozed out of her just like the barbecue sauce from her brisket sandwich.
Alex gazed at her sardonically and pointed at her with his pickle. "Don't look so pleased with yourself."
"It's not nice to point. And I can't help itmy friend Donna is pregnant and trying to establish a business on the side so that she'll be able to work at home after the baby comes. Bringing her a new client is the best baby gift I can give her." She took a huge bite of her sandwich and succeeded in smearing barbecue sauce across her cheek and onto the tip of her nose.
Alex thought she looked just fine that way. He tried to imagine the lovely Julia with food on her face and failed utterly.
But Sydney Sydney was real, and funny, and very appealing when she wasn't being annoying. He'd like to handcuff her to his bed, paint some barbecue sauce on her with a brush and lick it off. He grinned.
"What?" she asked. "Talk about looking pleased with yourself: You're the cat and I can see canary feathers stuck in your teeth."
"Oh, I'm no common house cat, Jersey."
"And I'll bet you've never been offered up as a baby gift, either." Sydney reached for another, much needed napkin.
"Can't say as I have."
"So what do you think your budget will be for the Emulsion packaging?"
"Eat your pickle."
"I just want to give Donna an idea of the scope of the project. And I don't like pickles."
"I will give her all the information she needs. Not you . Eat your coleslaw and your beans."
"I'm full." She stuck that chin out again. "So where are we going next?"
Well, since the Emulsion had been a bust, they'd move on to his Hot 'n' Sweet Emu Sauce. And nobody'd care what kind of jar it came in.
"You been to Rustlin' Rob's?"
Her eyebrows rose. "Rustlin' Rob's? What is that, a horse-thieving outfit?"
"Rustlin' Rob's is an amazing gourmet place. You'll love it."
"Gourmet? In Texas?"
"Yup. You just wait."
Rustlin' Rob's looked like an old Western saloon on the outside, complete with Lone Star motifs. On the inside, it resembled a general store, with merchandise stocked on rough-hewn wooden shelves.
Sydney looked around in amazement when they entered the shop. Thousands of jars of every kind of dip, sauce, vinegar, oil, soup or jelly imaginable lined the walls. And unbelievably, she could taste each one! She immediately wished she'd eaten only half the brisket sandwich, but she'd wolfed the whole thing.
She decided, however, that getting a stomachache might be worth it. Baskets of pretzels, Wheat Thins and bowls of the various concoctions called her name and stimulated her curiosity.
While Alex talked with the sales staff and then the owner, Sydney dipped and munched and marveled at what she found. Surreptitiously, she went back for seconds on certain items: Fischer & Wieser's Texas 1015 Onion Glaze, D.L. Jardine's Cowpoke Artichoke Salsa, and the Asian Sesame Oven and Grill Sauce from Robert Rothschild Farms.
She found pesto, flavored vinegar and herb-infused olive oil as good or better than any she'd sampled in Italy. And her true downfall was Rothschild's Raspberry Chocolate Pretzel Dip, where Alex found her grazing after he'd sold several cases of his Emu Sauce.
"I thought you said you were full, Jersey."
"1 was." She chewed guiltily and swallowed. "But I never got dessert."
"Uh-huh. And what's that under your arm?"
She clutched a package of Hombres Foods' Cappuccino Chipotle Brownie Mix as if it were a brick of twenty-four-carat gold. "I thought I'd send this to my mother."
"Bull," Alex said. "You'll be sneaking into the Marv's Motor Inn kitchen with that in the dead of night. Here, get two." He plucked another package from the shelf. "My treat."
She wasn't going to argue with this. "So you sold a bunch of Emu Sauce, huh?" She followed him, never taking her eyes off his precious cargo.
"Yep." He grinned. "I'm even on the verge of talking them into sponsoring a big Emu Roast."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. It'll be a huge draw if we can do it during the Fredericksburg Food and Wine Fest, Oktoberfest or the Mesquite Art Festival. I'll send you an engraved invitation."
"I'll probably be back in South River, unraveling another one of Marv's accounting nightmares," she said dolefully.
"Don't you have your own business to run?"
She nodded.
"Then why are you tied up with his? He's got
motels all over the countrysurely he can afford to hire someone."
"It's a long story, but he doesn't trust anyone outside the family."
Alex leveled a disbelieving look at her.
"I knowit sounds weak. But it's true."
"As long as you don't mind."
Oh, she minded, all right. She just needed to figure out how to tell Marv and cut the umbilical cord. Easier said than done. She heard her own words echoing in her head. Passivity is apathy, which shares the same Latin root as pathetic . Had she said that?
"Well," Alex said, "now you'll have to let me take you tor a drink to celebrate my sale. Then I've gotta go whip up several batches of Emu Sauce."
"You don't have other plans?" asked Sydney, trying not to wonder how many more Tessas were out there for him.
"Now, when a woman asks you that she's either thinking you're too gruesome for words, or feeling you out to see if you've got a girlfriend. Which is it with you, Sydney?"
She flushed. Of course, she had been wondering if Alex had girlfriends, but she didn't like being read so easily. "You are pretty gruesome. Way too gruesome to have a girlfriend," she returned, "so I'm not worried about that part."
He laughed. "Yeah, I have this problem with small children screaming at the sight of me and running away. But what can 1 do?"
"Out of pity I might have a drink with you," Sydney said in a considering tone.
"You're all heart."
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Alex took her to a "Biergarten," right on Main Street. It was an open, spacious place dominated by an enormous bar, behind which stood the huge copper and steel tanks of a microbrewery. Four-top tables sprinkled the left and rear areas, over which an enormous twelve-point buck presided.
He seemed to stare accusingly at everyone who entered, and the hairs on the back of Syd's neck stood up. Had the poor thing been an unwilling customer of Big Rack Taxidermist, the business she'd passed on the way into town?
To Sydney, most beer tasted like carbonated motor oil. But before she could tell Alex that she disliked it, he'd ordered two pints of the Biergarten's special.
Keeping her face neutral, she accepted the mug and they toasted to the successful sale of his Emu Sauce. She hoisted the stuff to her mouth and discov-ered that it was delicious, not bitter at allsmooth and rich and somehow caramel-y.
First Date - [Bridesmaid's Chronicles 01] Page 9