She nodded, but didn’t say anything. She felt his hesitation, and it frightened her. If he didn’t leave, she was certain she would crumple up into a little ball.
But then she heard the door close behind him. She let out the breath she’d been holding, then leaned against the counter for support. She hadn’t thought it possible to hurt any more than she already was.
But once again, she’d been wrong.
So very, very wrong.
A wedding was just as good a reason as any to get drunk, Reese decided. And since it was his own brother’s wedding, so much the better. Nobody would question him if he got plastered and made a fool out of himself.
Something he seemed to be very good at these days.
Frowning, he stared at the beer in his hand, then took a big swig and leaned back in his chair to watch the reception guests dance to “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” Normally he’d be out there, too, celebrating and having a good time, but tonight the only celebrating he intended to do was with a bottle. He’d pay for it tomorrow, but for a few hours tonight, at least, he could forget about a curvy blue-eyed blonde with skin like silk and a mouth that could make a man groan out loud. He listened to the music and decided the number should be his theme song.
Living the Crazy Life. That was him all right.
Only Sydney could make a man crazy like that, he thought and threw back another slug of beer. Make a man wake up in the middle of the night, his sheets tangled and damp with sweat. Intrude into every tiny corner of his life, every thought, until there wasn’t anything else but her. The sound of her laugh, the smell of her skin, the feel of her body against his.
His hand tightened on the bottle.
Dammit, he couldn’t even get drunk without her invading his mind.
What else could he say to her that he hadn’t already said? Before he’d finally gone over there to talk to her last week, he’d apologized a dozen times, sent flowers. He didn’t know what else to do.
A few flowers and I’m sorry’s won’t make it okay, she’d told him.
So what the hell would?
Well, fine, then. He certainly wasn’t going to crawl after her. He’d get over it, get over her.
He took another long pull on his beer. He would, dammit.
“Well, well, what have we here? Somebody looks lonely.”
Reese frowned at Lucian and Callan, who’d just come off the dance floor and grabbed a beer on their way to harass him. When they turned two chairs around and straddled them, he knew they were settling in for a while. He’d get up and leave, but since they’d just follow, he didn’t much see the point.
“He’s still pining for Sydney,” Callan said to Lucian.
“I’m not pining for anyone,” Reese growled.
Lucian laughed. “Right. That’s why you’ve been holed up in the tavern for two weeks and you’ve been snapping at everyone who even looks at you.”
“I haven’t snapped at anyone,” Reese snapped.
“It’s not as if we don’t understand, Bro.” Lucian tipped his beer to his lips. “I mean, Sydney’s a fine-looking woman, especially since she did that thing to her hair and started wearing those short skirts and sweaters. I saw her yesterday at the post office and she had on the hottest little—”
“Shut up, Lucian.” Reese slammed his bottle down on the table. Dammit, his brothers had even spoiled his taste for beer. “Just shut up.”
The beer bottle that had been halfway to Lucian’s mouth stopped. “’Course, she looks fine in a slinky black dress and high heels, too. Damn fine.”
Reese followed Lucian’s gaze across the crowded reception room. His heart stopped, then slammed against his ribs.
Sydney.
Her dress had a scoop neck, long sleeves and flared softly around her knees. Legs that never seemed to end were encased in black stockings; her high heels were spiked; her hair pulled up in a fountain of curls that cascaded down her slender neck. She stood with Melanie and Gabe, smiling as she congratulated them on their marriage. When Gabe kissed her, Reese felt his insides twist.
“Wow.”
It took Reese a moment to realize that Lucian had said the word out loud and not himself. “Wow” definitely described her.
“What’s she doing here?” Reese asked, surprised that his tongue still worked.
“Melanie asked her to come.” Callan sat back with a grin on his face. “When the women went into her café for lunch the week before last, they all bullied her until she promised to at least come to the reception for a little while.”
It figured that no one would tell him. He’d been a pariah with the females in his family since the Mary Lou incident. Cara had chewed him out big time for his stupidity; Melanie and Abby had been silent, but the accusation in their eyes stung. As if he needed anyone to tell him what an idiot he’d been.
Lucian set his beer down and started to rise. “Since you’re not pining for her, Bro, then I’m sure you won’t mind if I—”
“Take one step toward her and you’ll be wearing that cummerbund around your neck.”
Lucian sighed, then shrugged and sat back down. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Keeping his eyes on Sydney, Reese stood and made his way across the room. He was probably just making a bigger fool out of himself than he already was, if that were possible, but what the hell?
“Dance?” he asked from behind her.
Her red lips thinned as she turned. “No, thank you, I—”
“We’re friends, remember? Friends can dance together.”
Ignoring her resistance, he pulled her into his arms and led her out onto the floor. He said a silent prayer of thanks when the music changed from fast to slow, a popular song by a current group about needing someone tonight. He pulled her close, felt her stiffen.
“You look good, Syd.” She felt good, too. And her perfume was different tonight, he realized. Something exotic and sexy, intended to drive a man crazy. Not that she needed perfume for that. He was already there.
“Thank you.” She placed a hand between them, eased back. “You look nice, too. If you’ll excuse me, I really need to go see—”
“How did you manage to get off work?” He figured if he kept the conversation more business oriented, she wouldn’t run off as quickly.
“I hired one new waitress and Nell’s sister is in town for a few days. She manages a delicatessen in New York and offered to help out at the café tonight.”
He hated the cool, disinterested tone in her voice. She wasn’t disinterested, dammit. He knew she wasn’t.
Or, fool that he was, maybe he was just hoping.
“That woman Lucian is dancing with,” she asked casually, “who is she?”
If she was trying to twist the knife in his gut, she was doing a hell of a job, Reese thought as he narrowed his gaze at his brother, then back at her. “That’s Raina, Melanie’s maid-of-honor,” he said tightly.
“I thought she looked familiar,” Sydney said thoughtfully. “She came into the café on Thursday night with Melanie.”
A tiny bit of the tension that had gathered in his shoulders eased as he realized she wasn’t thinking about Lucian, but Raina. Reese had met the pretty brunette last night at the rehearsal dinner, but had been too caught up with thoughts of Sydney to even consider wandering into that territory. He’d thought at first that Lucian had been interested in Melanie’s friend, but the way she and Lucian had avoided each other after their initial meeting, Reese figured that he’d been wrong about any attraction between the two. If anything, he thought, watching the stiff way they moved around the dance floor together and the expressions on their faces, they looked as if they’d rather dance with an axe murderer than each other.
Reese made a mental note to tweak Lucian’s pin later over the woman’s rejection. Payback’s a bitch, dear brother, Reese thought with a smile.
Ian and Cara danced past them at that moment and said hello to Sydney, then Callan and Abby came by next. Reese wanted to be al
one with Sydney, away from this crowd and the prying eyes of his family. He was certain she hadn’t meant what she’d said about being friends with him. If she would just talk to him, he could change her mind. He knew he could. He just had to keep her in his arms long enough for her to relax a little, to remind her how good it had been between them.
Weather was a neutral subject, he decided. She didn’t have to run from that topic. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Maybe tomorrow, too.”
“Should be lovely.”
Okay, well, maybe weather wasn’t the best topic, after all. He tried another tactic. “Boomer got a thorn under his paw. I had to take him to the vet to remove it.”
Bingo. That got her attention. Concern wrinkled her brow as she looked up at him. “Is he all right?”
“It was a pretty big thorn.” Under a microscope maybe. “He’s been limping around, looking for sympathy and a little extra attention.”
Kind of like me, Reese thought.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine.” She smiled at Melanie and Gabe, who danced by holding Kevin in their arms.
“I don’t know,” Reese mused. “Sometimes when something gets under the skin like that, it can turn into something serious.”
“He’s a tough little dog,” she said evenly. “He’ll bounce back in no time.”
“He misses you.” Reese pulled her closer, felt her stiffen. “I miss you.”
“Reese—”
“Tell me what to say, Syd.” When she put her hand on his chest, he felt panic grip his throat. “Please, just tell me what to say.”
She looked up at him then, and for a split second his pulse jumped; he was certain he saw something in her eyes: a need, longing. But then it was gone. Once again her eyes were cool and blank, and he knew it had just been wishful thinking.
“We’ve said everything already, Reese,” she said quietly, then stepped out of his hold. “Excuse me, I need to say goodbye to Melanie and Gabe before I leave.”
The song turned to a fast beat again, a Donna Summer disco song. Sydney disappeared into the throng of jumping bodies on the dance floor. He started to follow her, then stopped. Like the beat of the music, her words pounded in his brain.
I’d like us to be friends, if that’s all right.
A few flowers and I’m sorry’s won’t make it okay.
We’ve said everything already.
Eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists, he turned and made his way back to his beer.
Six inches fell during the night, a white blanket of fluffy snow that sparkled in the early-morning light. From her bedroom window, Sydney watched the sun peek over the tops of John Gelson’s maple trees. The branches were bare now, the brilliant colors of fall already yielded to the white of winter.
Like those branches, she felt stripped bare, cold. Empty.
Good Heavens. She turned away from the window and laughed at herself, shook her head at the absurdity of her thoughts. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to think about Reese today. She’d thought about him all night; dreamed of him even when she’d finally managed to fall asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning.
She’d known better than to go to the reception last night, but Melanie and Cara and Abby had all been so insistent that she hadn’t been able to refuse them. She’d thought that she could avoid Reese, mix with the other guests and keep her distance from him. He’d caught her off guard by dragging her out onto the dance floor like he had.
When he’d pulled her into his arms, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to give in to him. When he’d told her he missed her, she’d nearly thrown her arms around him and kissed him right there, in front of everyone.
But he hadn’t said the words she needed, and she knew he never would. The mistake had been hers, trusting him, falling in love, foolishly believing, if only for a moment, that he might love her back.
Marry her.
Well, enough of feeling sorry for herself. She reached for her robe. A streusel muffin would take her mind off Reese, she decided. She’d bake up, oh, say, ten or twelve dozen, then maybe whip up a couple of hundred chocolate chip cookies, then a few dozen oatmeal raisin or—
She jumped at the sound of the ringing phone. No one called at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning. Her heart beat furiously as she stared at the phone.
Reese might.
She reached for the phone, then pulled her hand back. She wouldn’t talk to him. She waited, breath held, when her machine clicked on, listened while her announcement played….
“Sydney, this is Cara…please, if you’re there, pick up…there’s been an accident….”
Twelve
“Sydney, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Cara hurried down the hospital corridor toward her, and the women hugged briefly.
“How is he?” Sydney asked, glancing worriedly at the hospital door Cara had just stepped out of.
“Lots of scrapes and bruises, and a mild concussion. The doctors said he can go home in a couple of hours and he should be fine in a few days. Lord, he scared the bejesus out of all of us. Come on—” she took Sydney’s arm and dragged her toward the room “—one smile from you ought to cheer him up. He’s been very cranky with everyone since they brought him in an hour ago.”
“Do you really think I should go in?” Sydney didn’t want to intrude on a family gathering. “He might not feel like having company, especially so soon, and I could—”
But Cara was already pulling her through the door. Callan and Ian stood beside the bed, laughing as if someone had just told a joke, and Abby was shaking her head at them while she filled a glass with ice water.
Lying in bed, dressed in a blue hospital gown, one large bandage on his temple, was Lucian.
Everyone went quiet when she entered the room; Sydney shifted nervously, then looked at Lucian, felt her stomach twist as she took in the scrapes and bruises covering his arms and left side of his face. “How are you feeling?”
A smile touched his mouth, but the pain in his blurry eyes was evident. “I’m sure a kiss would make it all better,” he suggested.
Abby rolled her eyes and handed the glass of water to Lucian, then moved toward Sydney and gave her a hug. “That’s what he said to the nurse fifteen minutes ago, just before she stuck him in the butt with a needle.”
Sydney moved beside the bed and placed a gentle kiss beside the bandage on Lucian’s forehead. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Now I can die a happy man.”
“He said that to another nurse when she fluffed his pillow a few minutes ago,” Cara said dryly.
The Sinclair men, Sydney thought with a smile. There wasn’t a woman who was safe around them. She knew firsthand. Her smile faded as she glanced around the room. “Reese isn’t here yet?”
“I finally got hold of him about ten minutes ago,” Cara said. “He’ll be here any minute.”
When Cara hadn’t been able to reach Reese at the cottage or the tavern to tell him about Lucian’s accident, she’d called Sydney, thinking maybe he’d spent the night at her place. Sydney didn’t want to know where Cara had finally found Reese. Didn’t want to know if he’d spent the night with someone. She was still too fragile to think about him being with another woman, holding her, kissing her. Making love to her.
Pain squeezed her chest at the thought. She wouldn’t think about Reese now. She was here for Lucian. Lightly she covered his hand with her own. “What happened?”
Lucian shook his head, then winced at the movement. “Damned if I know. The last thing I remember is toasting Gabe and Melanie at the reception. Next thing I know I’m lying in this bed with the Headache from Hell.”
“They found him at Jordan’s Junction, unconscious in his truck,” Ian said. “It appears that he skidded on some ice and went over the side of the road.”
“What in the world he was doing at Jordan’s Junction at six-thirty in the morning remains a mystery.” Cara fol
ded her arms, trying to look stern and reprimanding, but the worry in her eyes was plain, as was the relief that her brother was going to be all right.
“Do Gabe and Melanie know?” Sydney asked.
Cara shook her head. “They left after the reception for a red-eye flight out of Philly. Right about now I figure they’re having breakfast on a beach in St. Thomas.”
“Sure they are.” Callan looked at the other men, who all grinned knowingly.
Cara rolled her eyes. “So okay, they’re having breakfast in their room. In any event, we all decided, since Lucian is all right, not to tell them until they get back in two weeks.”
“Gabe’s not gonna like it.”
All heads turned at the sound of Reese’s voice from the doorway.
At the sight of him standing there, Sydney’s throat went dry as dust. He still wore his tuxedo, minus the cummerbund and bow tie. His hair hadn’t been combed; he hadn’t shaved and his eyes looked glassy.
He looked as if he’d been out all night.
Sydney swallowed, followed his gaze down to where her hand was still touching Lucian’s. She noticed a twitch at the corner of one weary eye, but when he moved into the room, he had his attention on Lucian, not her. She slipped her hand from Lucian’s and moved away from the bed.
Reese nodded at his brother. “You all right?”
“Pretty nurses to fluff my pillow and beautiful women at my bedside.” Lucian lifted one brow, then winced at the movement. “Maybe I did die and go to Heaven.”
Reese frowned. “Not funny, Bro. I saw your truck as it was being towed away. It looks about as pretty as your face right now.”
“Damn,” Lucian growled. “I liked that truck, too.”
As the banter continued, Sydney inched her way toward the door and slipped out. She was halfway down the hallway, struggling not to break into a run. Emotions were running too high right now. For her, for Reese. He’d been out all night, she knew. It was obvious. It could just as easily have been him lying on the side of an icy road somewhere. Only maybe he wouldn’t have been as lucky as Lucian. When he’d walked into the hospital room, she’d wanted to throw herself in his arms and kiss him, tell him that she loved him.
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