A Knight Before Christmas

by Alicia Dean

  by Alicia Dean

  God, she was so stupid.

  She'd been in love with Alex from the first day he walked

  through the door of the law firm. He winked at her as he

  passed her desk. How could she not fall for all that dark hair,

  startlingly blue eyes, and a smile designed to charm the

  panties off any woman under the age seventy?

  Not that Alex ever tried with her.

  Another wrapper and tissue hit the floor.

  Alex relied on her. She organized his office, his life—hell,

  she even organized his house when he complained he never

  could find his socks. Zoe became his best friend, his

  confidant. She sent flowers to his women, found a

  housekeeper to keep him from living in bachelor squalor. She

  did everything a wife did for a man, except share his bed.

  The hours they spent working together, alone at night in

  the office, were the gems in her pathetic life. He'd drop by

  her apartment after his Sunday jogs with Lamar's donuts.

  They'd discuss various cases, the news and sometimes watch

  a DVD. She had him to herself for those few brief hours. But

  nothing she did could get him to see her as a woman, a

  woman who'd walk over hot coals if it meant he would say he

  loved her.

  Instead, he told everyone she was his right hand, and

  sometimes his left. His pal. Zoe blinked tears out of her eyes

  and turned off her computer.

  Over the last three years, he'd risen in the firm from a new

  hire to partner. Everyone loved him. The man could do no

  wrong.

  Except marry the right woman.

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  Bianca Freemont was cold, calculating, and just plain

  mean. Alex's life didn't have room for both Bianca and Zoe.

  He couldn't see the two were like two cats in a bag. Hissing

  and snarling at each other. But Alex saw Bianca as the perfect

  wife for an attorney going places. So did the partners.

  Zoe sniffed and reached for another truffle. She suffered in

  silence, despising herself for being the stereotypical

  secretary-falling-in-love-with-her-boss like the plots of many

  of the romance novels she devoured, along with six thousand

  calories a day. So, here she sat with a hundred and fifty extra

  pounds of unrequited love.

  How lame. All she got for her efforts for years of devotion

  was a stuffy head, runny nose, and puffy eyes to go with a

  broken heart.

  A surge of anger replaced the hurt.

  Let Alex find out who really watched over him, cared for

  him, loved him. He wouldn't be able to function without her.

  Bianca wouldn't know where his socks were, but then again,

  there'd be no need for socks on the honeymoon.

  She had to strike out on her own, find a new life that didn't

  center on a man she could never have.

  She opened the drawer of her desk where she stashed her

  purse, grabbed up another tissue to stem the tears washing

  over her cheeks. The clutter on the floor by her chair made

  her stop. Her bulk made it impossible to bend down and pick

  up the evidence of her emotional tsunami. Zoe let out a sigh

  and got on her hands and knees. Voices on the other side of

  the door stopped her cold. Zoe's hand smothered her squeak

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  of surprise. Everyone had left for the Christmas holiday. She'd

  thought she was alone in the office, maybe even the building.

  The cleaners had already come and gone. Her heart

  stammered in her chest, her breath came in short pants. Part

  of her breathing problem came from the effort of getting to

  the floor in the first place, but she didn't want to be caught

  alone by some burglar...or worse. She couldn't get to her feet

  and run, not with bad knees and ankles. She scooted under

  the cubby of her large antique desk, hoping the small

  enclosure would provide an adequate hiding space. Zoe held

  her breath.

  The door of Alex's office burst open, and she heard Tommy

  Dunn's voice slur, "Why the hell do you want the tickets to

  Vegas if the bitch dumped you at the altar?"

  Relief washed over her. No rapist, just an asshole. What

  had he said? Dumped at the altar? Alex hadn't married

  Bianca?

  "Because, my friend, I'm getting married tonight." Alex

  sounded as drunk as his best man.

  "You're full of crap, and booze. Who are you going to get

  to marry you?" He paused. "At seven in the evening?"

  "I'll marry the first single woman I see," Alex snorted. "I'll

  bet you a thousand dollars, no make that five thousand, I can

  get someone to do it."

  "I still say you're full of crap, but it's a bet."

  "Just watch me. Bianca isn't the only one who can make a

  point. I'm getting married on Christmas Eve, so screw her.

  Family tradition and all that. Got to get married on Christmas

  Eve. Mom and Dad got married on Christmas Eve, and they

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  have a perfect marriage." Anger wove through his voice.

  "Bianca overreacted. A pretty girl smiles at me, I smile back.

  I wasn't flirting with her bridesmaid. Damn it, I'm not going

  to walk on eggshells just because I smile at a woman. I like

  women, I can't help it. It's my nature."

  "I noticed."

  "S'not my fault she backed me up against the wall and

  tried to kiss me."

  "Not your fault at all."

  "S'truth."

  "Right." Tommy Dunn's voice held a touch of disbelief.

  "Honestagod," Alex slurred his words together.

  Zoe leaned back against her desk, hoping they would go

  into Alex's office so she could make a hasty and quiet escape.

  No such luck.

  "Where are the tickets?"

  "Zoe's desk."

  Oh, dear God, don't let them come over here. She stuffed

  her hand into her mouth. The tickets were in Alex's desk.

  She'd put them there this morning and specifically told him

  they were in the upper left drawer. How could he have

  forgotten? Oh yeah, she was talking about Alex. If it didn't

  involve jurisprudence, Alex was an organizational disaster

  waiting to happen.

  She heard one of them come closer.

  "Know s'it's here somewhere." Alex shuffled things around

  on her desk.

  "S'not here. Wait, wait, s'it's in my office."

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  She held her breath until little spirals of color and black

  dots danced in front of her eyes. Zoe squeezed her eyes shut,

  but it didn't stop her internal light show.

  "Zoe?"

  Busted. She let out the breath with a whoosh. "Yes?"

  Alex came around the desk and perched his fine butt on

  the edge. Tommy couldn't resist following Alex.

  "Whatcha doing, Zoe Pie?" Tommy smirked.

  Zoe ground her teeth. She disliked Tommy as much as she

  loved Alex. How could he have such a stupid and offensive

&nb
sp; friend? Being rich shouldn't give him a license to be an

  asshole. In his mind, however, it did.

  Tommy came up with the vile nickname. Alex told her he

  liked it but hadn't known the real reason behind it. The nasty

  barb resulted when Tommy once found her face-first in a

  large piece of French Silk pie. Sending flowers to Alex's flavor

  of the month always took its toll.

  "Leaving." She threw the trash into the waste can and

  picked up her purse. Her position made it hard to look

  dignified, but she managed to stand. Her hands brushed

  down over her loose brown slacks. "For good."

  Alex jumped to his feet and wobbled. "Whoa, head rush."

  He steadied himself by using Zoe's shoulder. His hand sent

  little shivers of delight through Zoe's body, the tingling

  sensation landing square between her legs. She closed her

  eyes, trying to resist the pull Alex had on her. Maybe she

  should seek professional help. That's it. She planned to

  thumb through the Yellow Pages as soon as she got home.

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  "Wait, wait, what do you mean?" Alex frowned. "You can't

  leave me."

  "Check your interoffice memo. Not only am I leaving the

  firm, you, and your charming associates..." She gave Tommy

  the stink-eye. "I'm moving to St. Louis. I've got a job there

  starting in the middle of January and a new apartment."

  "No, no, no." Alex waved his hand around as if trying to

  wipe away her words. "I won't allow it." An edge of panic

  crept into his voice. His eyes went a bit wild. "Who's going to

  take care of me? You're my friend, why didn't you tell me any

  of this?"

  Zoe heaved a sigh. "It's already done, Alex. Your new

  bride will take care of the house. A new PA as well. Her name

  is Virginia Hamilton. She's very sweet, very efficient. Be nice

  to her."

  Tommy sniggered. "Wait, why don't you marry Zoe, win

  the bet, and that way, she can't leave."

  It took a millisecond for Tommy's suggestion to hit Alex's

  alcohol-soaked brain. "S'it's perfect. You'll be my perfect bride

  for Christmas."

  "You're crazy and drunk." Zoe tried to go around Alex.

  "No, Bianca dumped me, and we're pals, Zoe. Come on,

  let's do it. The three of us," he nodded toward Tommy, "can

  go to Vegas. We'll get married and have a great time. What

  do you say? Hmmm?"

  The temptation to say yes beckoned to her. She couldn't

  say yes, could she? Could she? Maybe this was her chance. It

  might be so wrong, on so many levels... Screw it. She'd grab

  for the golden ring while she could. She could change Alex. It

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  might take more than a few prayers in the process, but given

  enough love, he'd come around.

  Alex needed someone to guide him. That someone was

  her.

  "All right." She hitched her purse high on her shoulder.

  "Let's go to Vegas."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  311

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  by Alicia Dean

  Turn the page

  for an exciting preview of

  Clint King's Christmas homecoming

  in the third Three Kings novel

  from author Claire Ashgrove

  * * * *

  A Christmas to Believe In The Three Kings, Book III

  * * * *

  Available from The Wild Rose Press [Back to Table of Contents]

  312

  A Knight Before Christmas

  by Alicia Dean

  Chapter One

  Snow crunched beneath the Chevy pickup's tires as Clint

  King navigated around a turn. In the silent dark, his blinker

  clicked a steady beat that tempered his nerves. In the rear-

  view mirror, he checked that the two-horse trailer on his

  bumper didn't slip in the light sheen of ice. The last thing he

  needed was a wreck.

  As if today wasn't bad enough.

  He mumbled as he glanced down at the gas gauge. A few

  more miles and the warning light would come on. Thank God

  Mom's house lurked just around the next bend. He could

  finally get off the snow-covered highways between

  Brandenburg, Kentucky and the Kansas City Northlands. Eight

  hours of treacherous roads was enough strain to turn a saint

  into a sinner.

  Then again, if his mother hadn't dosed out a heavy round

  of guilt, he'd be happily tucked into his couch, watching the

  latest DVD release. Even a saint couldn't stand up to Mom's

  masterful manipulation. He could still hear her heavy sigh.

  The carefully chosen words echoed in his head. But Clint, you

  missed your father's last Christmas.

  He had. Certainly not intentionally, but he'd missed it all

  the same. None of them had foreseen their father would die

  the following summer. This last summer. When Clint had been

  too busy prepping for the track to come home for the Fourth

  of July.

  Guilt rose up to curdle his stomach and compressed his

  chest. He tightened his hands on the wheel. Damn, he didn't

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  want to do this. Coming back here stirred up all kinds of

  memories. Each mile he crossed brought pictures of the past.

  Dad taking him and his brothers sledding. Dad holding the

  camera as they all opened gifts. Even the last Christmas Clint

  had spent with his family his father had maintained the

  specific role of photographer. Who would take the pictures

  this year—Alex?

  Clint shook his head. No, he was the eldest. That should be

  his responsibility. Alex had other things on his mind. More

  important things like a long-lost sister none of them had

  known about until a few weeks ago. Alex also had new triplet

  daughters to worry about. News Clint would have loved to see

  Alex's high and mighty fiancee hear. That ought to be quite

  the twist to Alex's Christmas Eve wedding.

  Heath would be too caught up in the festivities. Hell, for

  that matter, Heath probably hadn't even thought to bring a

  camera. Even if Dad's sat in the closet, Heath would be

  goofing off. He'd always gotten away with it too. As the

  peacemaker of the family, he'd never been on the receiving

  ends of Mom's down-the-nose looks, or Dad's stern, "I

  expected more from you" frowns. No, Heath fixed everything

  with an innocent expression and humor.

  Letting out a heavy sigh, Clint steered around a slow left

  hand curve. Up the hillside, pale blue lights dangled from high

  gables. White strands wound around the porch beams. Even

  from this distance, the deep red glow of his mother's

  Christmas wreath shone from the front door.

  Home. Five years later, and he was home.

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  Further off in the distance, he observed the festive red and

  green bulbs that always decorated Jesse Saurs' folks' barn.

  Some things never changed. Odd though, Mom
had

  mentioned something about the Saurs moving. Did that mean

  Jesse still lived in that old house on the hill?

  His spirits brightened at the thought. If Jesse were around,

  things would be like old times. Too bad they were all too old

  for car-hood sledding—she'd been the best driver out of the

  whole gang. They weren't, however, too old for a good, old-

  fashioned snowball fight. And if his memory served, he still

  owed her for an ice-ball in the nose.

  A grin quirked the corner of his mouth. That girl knew how

  to throw. His nose had bled for almost an hour.

  Man, if he had to have a sister, why couldn't it have been

  her? Instead, he had to deal with some stranger. Keeley

  Jacobs might be his father's daughter, but Clint was pretty

  damn certain she didn't know how to cheat at arm wrestling

  like Jesse did. He was also pretty certain neither of his

  brothers would put up with a strategically placed toe in the

  ribs from her either.

  Guess he'd find out. As much as he didn't care to meet his

  new half-sibling, Mom made it clear she intended to welcome

  the woman with open arms. Which meant this family get-

  together would come with strangers.

  He shifted into second to climb the steep driveway. The

  trailer skidded, threatening to pull him back onto the road.

  Scowling, Clint dropped the truck into four-wheel drive, and

  gave it a bit more gas. The rig jumped as the trailer bounced

  forward. Slowly, he inched up the gravel drive.

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  At the top, he pulled straight into the yard. He still had to

  find stabling for his horse, and turning around up here

  wouldn't be easy. Mom could deal with the tread marks. She'd

  wanted him to come. Insisted on it. She could deal with the

  fact his prize mare was due to foal any day. If he were lucky,

  the trailer ride hadn't stressed her, and she wouldn't choose

  tonight.

  He opened the door to her sharp whinny. Jumping down

  into the snow, he tromped to the rear of the trailer and threw

  open the top half of the loading doors. She twisted her

  elegant neck around to give him an expectant look.

  "Not yet, Angel."

  Clint closed the door and made his way around to the

  escape door. The hinges creaked as he pulled it open. He

  stepped inside, kicked his way through the loose bedding, and