“Come on, sit down.”
She headed for the couch, but he guided her to the chairs instead. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s been a while. I haven’t seen Clint…” Her eyes lowered to her hands. She pulled her matching hot pink gloves off a finger at a time. “Or Heath, since the funeral.”
“This has been a bad year for the Kings. First Dad, now this. Mom’s been busy with the wedding plans but—”
“You don’t have to say anything. Mom told me yesterday how she and Sydney were butting heads over the reception. Speaking of which, shouldn’t she be here with you?”
Alex slapped his hands against his thighs. “I—If you only knew. I’m…”
Before he knew it, he vomited up the whole sordid mess, Sydney, Zoe, the kids and all.
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“Well, you’re a woman, what’s your advice—
from a woman’s point of view?”
Jesse shook her head. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She leaned her head against his shoulder the same instant Sydney rounded the corner of the hall.
“My friend, you are well and truly screwed.”
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Chapter Ten
Zoe put the closed sign up. The two customers she had scheduled cancelled, leaving her time to catch up on her paperwork and inventory. Cherri and the girls were busy doing arts and crafts in the main part of the house while she went through the gourmet muffin mixes on the shelves. Blueberry Almond seemed to be the hot seller this month. A quick swipe with the dust cloth she had at the ready, a little tweaking, and the muffin selection looked pristine and ready to go.
Christmas music lilted through the shop. The snow might keep her from catering for a couple of days, but she didn’t care. This freak weather couldn’t go on much longer, and the holidays were right around the corner. She hummed along with Baby It’s Cold Outside, thinking how apropos the song was as the flakes flew outside the window.
Zoe stared in surprise when a bright red car with a sign saying Express Courier Service on the door, pulled up in front of the shop. No one in their right mind would be out on the streets today.
The driver left the engine running and ran around the front, onto her once-cleared sidewalk.
The new snowfall had dumped another two inches since she’d shoveled off the walks and drive earlier in the day.
The instant she held it open, cold air shouldered past the bundled up courier in a big, brutal blast that nearly knocked her off her feet.
“Man, it’s bad out there,” the guy said through 88
A Perfect Bride for Christmas several layers of his scarf. He shook himself off and stamped his feet. “My heater can’t keep up with it.”
His finger snagged the edge of the scarf covering his face, bringing it down before he handed her the electronic gizmos he’d protected under his arm. “I need you to sign here.”
He handed her a stylus and she scribbled across the tablet’s plastic-coated face as instructed. The courier glanced at her signature, tapped in a few keys and raced back to the still-running vehicle.
Zoe’s finger pried the cardboard flap open to reveal another envelop with Alex’s office logo on it.
Something official. A dread colder than the chilled air of the shop fingered her heart.
This had to be about the girls.
She went behind the counter and opened a drawer containing her office supplies. The letter opener she picked up wobbled in her hands as she ran the edge under the flap of the envelope. It took a minute before her heart quit stammering around in her chest.
What was Alex up to?
She gingerly pulled the folded paper up, opened it to see the words Alexander Franklin King, Zoe Ann Hillman Bennett, Michaela Ann Bennett, Mia Alexandra Bennett, Macy Alana Bennett along with DNA.
The bastard wanted DNA tests on her children, along with both of them, to insure paternity.
Gut sick, that’s the only way she could describe the way she felt. Zoe had already decided to acknowledge Alex as the girls’ father, however, she refused to have him stomp around and ruin their fragile lives with his posturing.
She knew the phone number on the letterhead by heart. Fueled with anger so strong she could’ve barbequed a buffalo, Zoe punched in the number on her cell phone and waited. Two rings, and the phone 89
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went to a message saying ‘due to the weather, all appointments are cancelled until tomorrow’.
She ground her teeth in frustration. She wanted to scream at someone—anyone—and then she wanted to tell Alexander Franklin King to go to hell.
Only, hell wasn’t hot enough for what she had in mind.
The business card he left her! It had his cell phone number on it.
Zoe raced over to the drawer under the counter again, trying to remember where she’d put the card.
She’d thrown it in there after he left it on the table.
She pushed aside note pads with her logo, gimme’s for her clients, pens, along with a couple of tape refills. Her neat drawer was a rumpled mess by the time she found the card. It had worked its way between the pages of one of the notepads.
Her hands trembled as she dialed the number.
Zoe avoided the message he’d scribbled along with the number. How could she ever forget Vegas? The wild night of sex, the joy she’d felt in his arms when he’d said he loved her, then the morning after. All the humiliation she’d ever endured in her life turned into one into a messy ball of hurt. She’d thought her feelings for Alex died that day.
She’d spent the last five years lying to herself.
The knowledge she’d never gotten over him made her physically ill.
His phone rang once.
Cherri came through the back door on the second ring. She took one look at Zoe and started to leave, but Zoe handed her the paper and pointed at the phone.
“Great Minerva’s Mittens, she whistled between her teeth and shot Zoe a speculative look.
“He’s going to fry.” Zoe ran her finger across her throat. “Up to his neck in boiling canola oil.”
Alex answered on the third ring.
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“Alex King here.”
“You son of a bitch. You dirty, sneaky, black-hearted, son of a bitch.”
“What?” He paused for a second before asking again, this time his voice low and muffled. “What’s wrong?”
It amazed Zoe that she could even think, let alone speak to the man who was intent on turning her life upside down. “I got the letter a few minutes ago, so don’t play dumb with me. How did you think I’d react?”
“To what? You’re not making sense. I don’t know what letter you’re talking about, and to tell you the truth, this isn’t really a good time for me.”
“When would be a good time, Alex? When hell freezes over?” Zoe hit the end button and plopped down on one of the chairs, tapping the folded letter against the glass tabletop. “He is so going to pay for this.” She lifted the letter up, using it the same way a conductor uses a baton. “If he thinks a mouth swab and a DNA report makes a father, he’s got another think coming.”
Cherri sat down in the opposite chair. “Well, if you’re carving him up and handing him out, I’d like a piece of that mighty fine ass.”
Zoe shook her head and dropped it into her hands. “Et tu, Cherri?”
Her nanny shrugged and leaned back in her chair, crossing her ankles in front of herself. “Great Neptune’s knickers, I’m just saying.”
“My ass.”
“No, his ass.”
****
Alex stared down at his phone as if it had turned into a snake. It might as well have, for all the hissing and biting on Zoe’s end of the conversation. What the hell was she talking about? What letter?
None of it made sense, especially on top of 91
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Barr
Sydney breezing into the waiting room to see Jesse’s head on his shoulder.
“Who’s this,” she snapped as she pulled off her gloves. Alex half-expected her to slap Jesse across the face with them. He had no desire to have his fiancée land in the ER.
He got to his feet and held out his hand to Jesse.
The imp fluttered her eyelashes up at him as she hooked her arm through his. “This is a family friend.
Jesse Saurs, meet Sydney Stanford, my fiancée.”
Jesse held her hand out to Sydney. “I wondered when I’d meet the woman who finally took Alex off the market.”
Ignoring Jesse’s offered shake, Sydney made a production of putting her gloves in her coat pockets.
“Oh, he’s off the market,” Sydney stood ramrod straight. “Permanently.”
“The women of Kansas City will grieve when you take your vows.” Jesse gave his arm friendly tug. “Cut it out, Jesse,” he growled as he disentangled himself from his friend’s clutch. “I need to talk to Sydney.”
Jesse grabbed up her purse. “Well, I’m going downstairs to the coffee shop for a caramel macchiato.” She hitched it over her shoulder and winked at him. “Can I get anything for either of you?”
Sydney sniffed, and he shook his head. Off she went, leaving him to deal with the fall out. Paybacks were hell.
“I really need to talk to you about the reception.”
Sydney stood in front of him, hands on her hips. A cross between a pout and a smile told him he was in for stormy weather. Right now, he didn’t care.
Sydney could take a flying leap.
“This isn’t the time to talk about wedding plans.” Irritation crawled up his spine with sharp 92
A Perfect Bride for Christmas little spikes of anger. His well-planned life fell to shit, and he stood right in the middle with a big red target on top of his head. As Mom used to say when they were kids, it was time to hitch up his big boy pants and start digging.
“It’s the perfect time, don’t you see. With your mother being out of the pict—I mean, with her injury, she won’t be able to host the reception.”
Sydney tried for a look of compassion, but it didn’t fit well on her beautifully painted face. The corners of her mouth tipped down, and she managed to squeeze out a tear. “Her house is too small to accommodate all m—our guests. I’m trying to think what’s best for all of us, darling.”
The fear of the tear, at least Sydney’s, no longer left him paralyzed and uneasy. “You know, Syd, you’re absolutely right.”
She gave a little hop and clapped her hands.
“Thank you, thank you. I knew you’d see I was right,” she squealed. Her hand reached into her purse for her phone. “I’ll contact the country club and that tacky little caterer—”
Alex stepped away for fear of strangling Sydney.
“Why, don’t you do that? Better yet, tell them the wedding is postponed.”
She made it halfway through her contact list on her phone when his words finally hit her brain. Her fingers stilled. “Postponed? I don’t understand.”
“Simple—no wedding, at least not now.”
“Why?”
“I’ve got a lot of complications in my life—or hadn’t you noticed?” It was like explaining the Theory of Relativity to a Shih Tzu.
“So? You think I don’t?”
“My mother is in surgery. I have three children I didn’t know about until a couple of days ago, and a sister that just crawled out of the woodwork. I think that trumps figuring out if I want a sit-down or a 93
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buffet dinner at the goddamned country club.”
Here it came, regardless of the time and place.
Sydney turned bright red. She clenched her hands into fists. “Where do I fit in? You don’t have time for me—not anymore. It’s either your mother or those kids of yours. Are you sleeping with that woman? Is that why you haven’t made love to me since they showed up?”
“My mother is in the hospital.” Alex raked his hands through his hair. “What did you expect me to do, ask permission to stay with her?”
“Yes.” Sydney’s face turned an ugly red. “We had plans tonight. Did you forget Yolanda Zucker is expecting us for dinner?”
“I don’t care if the President invited us to the White House. That’s my mother in the operating room. And right now, sex is the last thing on my mind.”
“I’m not going to postpone the wedding because of your mother, three brats, or the bitch who whelped them.” Her voice pitched higher until she screamed out the words.
Alex didn’t bother checking to see if anyone was watching, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, bypassing a coffee-toting Jesse in the hallway, and headed towards the stairwell. Sydney beat at his back, screaming the whole way down to the ground floor. There, at the end of a long hall, he spied an exit sign. He hit the long metal handle on the door with his hip.
“Put me down, you bastard.” Sydney let out another screech. “Security!”
At first, Alex only intended to take her outside for a one-on-one screaming match. He hated confrontation outside of the courtroom, but this one had turned into a doozy.
Cold air slapped at him as hard as the woman slung over his back. Snow packed the sidewalk, and 94
A Perfect Bride for Christmas drifted high in a swale where the side of the building met a sapling topped berm.
Son of a bitch. Zoe’s stinging words from this morning ricocheted through his brain. “And now bastard,” he muttered. “Here you go. This ought to cool you off.” He dumped Sydney in the soft drift and stood for a second, watching her sputter and clear the snow from her face. He left her in the drift. The words spouting from those perfect lips, lips that had touched him in so many intimate and mind-boggling ways, would put a truck driver to shame.
“ Wait until Daddy hears about this.” Sydney tried to wallow her way out of the drift. She thumped the snow with her fist. “I’ll make you sorry,” she shrilled. “The wedding is off, it’s over. I never want to see or hear from you again.”
In spite of Sydney’s tantrum, old familiar hurts welled up. The swift pain of rejection cut through his heart and dulled to an aching throb. No more, he’d had enough. “That’s fine. Keep the ring or better yet, sell it and go shopping.” Alex tugged on the door, intending to go back the way he came. No such luck.
It had automatically locked behind him. Just as well, he needed the few minutes it would take to make it around the building and to the main entrance to chill out.
He had to call Zoe. She’d said she’d received a letter from him. Alex hadn’t sent anything to her, so what set her off? By the time he got to the lobby, he decided to wait a day. Zoe wouldn’t listen to anything he could say to defend himself from whatever terrible thing she thought he’d done. His mother had to be his first priority.
He stepped out of the elevator. The scents of the hospital, especially after the stringent, yet fresh, smell of snow, assaulted his nose. Antiseptic and misery mixed in equal doses. His watch said it was nearly five. The sky outside the windows darkened, 95
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clouds skittered low and full of another three inches according to the scrawl running across the bottom of the television screen in the waiting room. Jesse sat in one of the black chairs, her eyes glued to a romance novel. He flopped in the chair, next to her, stretched out his legs, and slapped his hands over his eyes in a futile attempt to shut out the world.
“Stick a fork in me. I’m so done.”
“What’s wrong, Cupcake?”
He lifted his right hand and shot Jesse a killing glance, or it would have been if his eyes were made of lasers instead of balls of rubbery goo. “You tell anyone you call me Cupcake, and you’re a dead woman. Dead, really most sincerely dead.”
“Ah, come on.” She closed the book but kept her place marked with her finger. Alex stared down at the naked, tattooed, sword-wielding man on the cover. “Wh
en did you start reading romance? I thought you were strictly an action-adventure, murder-mystery girl?”
“A friend recommended it. I’ve already read most of the mysteries and thrillers they had in the hospital gift shop. Thought I’d give this one a shot.
Not too bad, really.”
“Zoe used to read those. She always had one on her desk.”
“Zoe Hillman?”
“Yeah, can we change the subject?” He rubbed his nose.
“Okay, how about—hmmm, that was quite a show you put on for the nurses. They were panting like a bunch of groupies after Johnny Depp. I mean, a hunky guy carrying a woman over his shoulder?
The stuff of dreams, Cupcake.” She held her book up in his face. “The stuff of dreams. By the way, where is the blushing bride?”
Alex pushed the book away. “Cut it out.”
The heat of a blush rose up his neck and to his 96
A Perfect Bride for Christmas face. He shot a look over at the nurse’s station. One, a blonde with big breasts, gave him the once over, letting him know she would jump at the chance to
‘comfort’ him. The other lowered her eyes in a flash.
The stain on her cheeks told him he’d caught her staring.
“I left her in a snowdrift to cool off.” He straightened in his chair. “Sydney called the wedding off.”
The book dropped to the floor, along with Jesse’s jaw. “Just don’t tell anyone yet. Okay? I’ve got enough to think about, I don’t need to try to answer a lot of questions.”
Jesse nodded the same instant the doctor came out. Alex jumped up, his hands felt sweaty, his heart jerked with worry. “How is she doing, Dr. Singh?”
“We already knew the break was bad, but clean.
I put a couple of pins in it to stabilize her ankle.
She’ll be coming out of recovery in a few minutes and I’ll have the nurses tell you which room she’ll be in.” Dr. Singh shook his head. “I left her bossing around the nurses in recovery.”
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