The girls argued over the movie, each trying to convince the others in loud, boisterous words.
Zoe held up her hands. “How do we decide things?”
“The buttons.”
“That’s right. As soon as we clean up after supper, we’ll get out the buttons. Right now, let’s say grace.”
The meal passed in relative peace and quiet with each girl chattering on about their first meeting with their grandmother. They begged for Walter, promised they’d take care of him talked about their father and grandmother, but no one mentioned the incident with Sydney. Just as well.
“I think it’s time to get out the buttons, don’t 192
A Perfect Bride for Christmas you?” Zoe pointed to the junk drawer that held all manner of odds and ends.
They scurried to a drawer in the kitchen cabinet. Macy reached in and pulled out a small velvet bag. Inside were three large buttons, one pink, one yellow, and the other blue.
Macy ran, with Michaela and Mia following like a school of little fish. Zoe held out her hand for the bag. “I want pink,” Mia called out.
Macy frowned and gave Mia a small push. “I wanted pink.”
“Me, too,” Michaela whined.
“Well, I think we have our decision.” Zoe placed the bag on her lap and waited. The girls looked up at her in puzzlement.
“If you’re going to be crabalicious, that means bedtime instead of movie time.”
Their eyes grew round with understanding.
“I’ll take yellow.” Michaela shot Macy a warning look. “That leaves Macy with blue.”
“Okay, I’ll use the blue button,” Macy harrumphed with an exaggerated shrug..
Zoe handed the girls the bag, and they each took turns, giving it a good shake. When they were done, Macy handed the bag back to Zoe.
“Now, let’s see which movie we watch.” She reached in the bag and pulled out the pink button.
“Miracle on 34th Street it is.”
“Yay,” Mia shouted as she jumped up and down.
“Can we have popcorn and juice?”
Three sets of hope-filled eyes pleaded with her.
Sucker punched, as always.
“Okay, but just a little juice. I don’t want any accidents in the middle of the night.”
With that understanding, the four of them sat on the couch and watched the story unfold. The girls 193
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snuggled close, the smell of their baby skin filled her nose. Zoe laid her head on top of Mia’s, enjoying the feel of her on one side and Macy on the other.
Michaela had pulled a cushion off the couch and leaned against her leg. The popcorn bowl sat empty.
Eyes began to droop.
Soon the movie ended. Macy had fallen asleep, snoring away with a half smile on her face. Michaela ended up on the floor with the pillow under her head.
“Does Santa bring you what you want for Christmas?” Mia asked with a hint of sleep whispering through her voice. She yawned. “If you really believe—will he?”
Zoe struggled to find the right words, to explain that Christmas wasn’t about gifts. It was about love, the greatest love of all. “Baby, Santa is the spirit of Christmas. Jesus is the real reason we celebrate Christmas.”
“I know about baby Jesus.” She wriggled closer, and reached for Zoe’s hand. Her small fingers worried her mother’s as she spoke. “He already knows what I want for Christmas, but what if Santa doesn’t know?”
“Tell you what.” Zoe gave Mia’s hand a loving pat and sat up straighter on the couch. The girls struggled to wake up. “Why don’t we take a trip to ToyTown, okay? Then you’ve covered all your bases.
Deal?” She kissed the top of Mia’s head.
“Deal.” The three girls nodded, groggy and ready for bed.
With the triplets abed, Zoe finally had a few minutes alone. The house was quiet. The lights on the Christmas tree twinkled and reflected off the ornaments until they seemed to glow on their own.
She stared at the tree, thinking back to the time when she’d been so despondent, so in hopeless in her love for Alex. She cast her eyes towards the stairway 194
A Perfect Bride for Christmas and upwards. Her love lay up there in the hearts of her children, children given to her by Alex. Maybe she got what she needed, instead of what she wanted, that strange, hurtful Christmas morning.
She pulled a lap robe over her feet and leaned against the pillow she’d retrieved off the floor.
“Alex,” she whispered in the dark. She closed her eyes. The living room slipped away, running and fading like a ruined watercolor. Her hand rested over her racing heart, heat pooled between her legs.
The tips of her fingers traced the path his hands used to stroke her to madness. Her nipples hardened with need.
Zoe wanted to remember the last and only time they could be together. The way his skin felt under her hands, the bunch of the hard muscles of his butt, and the rasp of the hair on his legs against her smooth skin. She licked her lips, her mouth thirsty for the kisses that would never come.
She burned with need. He’d touched her, set her on fire, and left her to burn. Her fingers reached down to touch the sensitive nub between her legs, to stroke it, but no amount of wetness could quench the flame Alex started. Still, she tried, harder and faster until she had to bit her lip to keep from screaming out his name when she tumbled over the edge without him.
Stunned, Zoe threw the lap robe away and raced to the downstairs powder room. She splashed water on her heated face and gripped the edge of the sink for support.
Zoe stared at her reflection. The wide-eyed woman in the mirror had flags of red staining her otherwise pale face. She turned away to reach for a towel, still aching inside. What a pathetic mess you are, Zoe Bennett. Mooning over a man you can’t have.
She patted her face dry and wondered what Alex was doing right now. Making love to Sydney? The 195
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thought made her eyes burn with unshed tears.
She’d have to get through the wedding reception, then try to figure out a way to live without Alex.
It would be hard. Amelia made it clear she considered Zoe family and nothing mattered more to Amelia than family.
****
Clint finally made it home. His oldest brother filled the room when he walked through the door, along with a gigantic chip on his shoulder. Alex watched Clint, the way his eyes surveyed the room. Clint seemed tense, as if he half expected their father to come through the door and start butting heads with him from the get-go.
“Clint,” Jesse shouted in the middle of giving Heath a major frogging. Heath yelped and lunged at her. Jesse rolled out of his reach with a well-practiced move. She scampered off the couch to give Clint a hug.
Surprise filled Clint’s eyes. He collected himself enough to return her hug. “I’ll be damned, Jesse. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Is that Clint?” their mother called from the kitchen. She was still on the phone, yammering away to one of her sorority sisters about a New Year’s fundraiser. She’d made the excuse she needed to make the calls, right that very minute, but didn’t fool any of them. Mom needed a distraction to keep from worrying about Clint driving over the icy roads.
A chuckle preceded Clint’s response. “Yeah, Mom. I’m here.”
“Clinton, come give your mother a kiss.”
Clint’s eyes zeroed in on Jesse. His amber gaze skimmed over her, not in the way a man looks at someone they’d known since they were in diapers, but like he’d been hit by a semi full of hopping lust monkeys.
Alex glanced over at Jesse. The lust monkeys 196
A Perfect Bride for Christmas got her too.
Clint nodded and looked everywhere but at Jesse. “Be right back.”
Jesse settled on the couch next to Heath to watch the game, but Alex leaned back in his chair and observed his friend. She twirled the fringe on the pillow, her eyes unfocused. Jesse had never twirled fringe
in her life.
K-State fumbled the ball.
“Arizona is going to beat K-State’s ass back to the Stone Age.” Heath gave Jesse a little nudge.
“They’ll rally.” He glanced at Jesse. “Don’t you think, Jesse?” Jesse acted like her Alma Mater danced the Nutcracker Suite instead of playing down and dirty football. She blinked and stammered, “Oh. Ah, yeah.”
“See, little brother,” Heath crowed.
Alex tossed a rolled up paper at Heath. “No way can Arizona beat K-State. Don’t you know Jesse’s never wrong about football?”
He heard Mom and Clint laughing out in the kitchen and noticed the way Jesse’s eyes skirted in that direction before going back the game. The fringe twirled again.
Clint came through the door with several plates of apple pie and passed them out. Mom hobbled in and put her pie on the small table by her chair. She started to sit until she looked out the living room window. She turned to Clint. “Sweetheart, is that a horse trailer in my front yard?”
Clint passed Jesse her plate, not daring to look at Mom. “Ah, yeah.”
Oh yes, Alex took a bite of pie. He wouldn’t be the only King brother with an interesting Christmas.
****
Mom was happy now that all her chicks were home to roost. Alex lay back in his bed, wondering what Zoe and the girls were doing and understood 197
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the feeling. He wanted to see his children again. He tossed and turned in the dark until he heard a car pull up in front of the house. It had to be Sydney.
She had her house key—she could let herself in. His mind still worked to untangle the knots.
The bright blue numbers on the digital clock read three-fifteen in the morning. In the stillness of the night, he heard the door open, the clatter of keys as she tossed them on the hall table. Sydney’s stumbling footsteps sounded like thunder—she’d had too much to drink.
Mom could put a bat to shame when it came to hearing, she knew every creak, moan, and sigh this old house made. Shit. He didn’t want his mother to find Sydney drunk on her ass.
He threw the heavy covers aside and raced across the cold floor to intercept any Mom versus Sydney action. Sydney made it to the landing with an open bottle of champagne in one hand, with her Oliveri shearling coat in the other. She was as naked as the day she was born except for a pair of four-inch black heels boots and a new Brazilian wax job.
“Hey ya, baby.” She leaned against the newel post, legs crossed at the ankles, small, tidy breasts thrust out, sporting a goofy smile on her face. “I missed you tonight.” Sydney held up the bottle, giving it a little shake. “We both missed you.”
The bubbles hissed. She’d probably opened it right before she got out of the limo. He bet the driver got more of a tip than he bargained for if Sydney stripped in the car.
He shot a look over at the door to his mother’s room. She’d insisted on leaving the guest room downstairs to sleep in here where she had for the last forty-three years. Alex knew she could hear the bubble’s dying screams.
A light came on under her door.
Shit, shit, double shit, and damn.
198
A Perfect Bride for Christmas He did the only thing he could do under the circumstances. He hustled Sydney into his darkened room and closed the door as quietly as possible.
Sydney giggled as she rubbed up against him.
Her perfect breasts grazed his ribs, nipples hard and ready for attention. “Oh, baby. I want you,” she crooned in his ear. Her teeth closed over his earlobe with a sharp nip.
While her hands slid over his naked chest.
Pouting lips roamed over his jaw and neck in hungry little nibbles.
The smell of liquor on her breath curled the hairs in his nose. “Shhh, I think my mother is up.”
Sydney ignored his urgent whisper. Her mouth attacked his neck with the voraciousness of a vampire. A tiny bite and a swish of her tongue usually sent shock waves through his system, but tonight, the only thing shocked would be his mother if she came through the door.
He let out a gasp at the feel of Sydney’s fingers sliding into his pajama bottoms and closing over his balls. “Stop it.” Alex considered batting her hand away but decided it could get too dicey, unless he wanted to take up a career singing castrato.
“Unh, unh. Don’t care about Mamma. I want to know if you’re up.” She gave him a less than gentle squeeze. “No? Umm, let me fix that, baby.”
Before he knew what had happened, she’d dropped to her knees, taking his bottoms with her.
Her hot mouth engulfed him, licking, swirling her talented tongue around the head of his penis. Oh, dear God, he’d be dead meat if Mom walked in.
“Cut it out,” he hissed.
Sydney ignored him, working harder to arouse his unresponsive body. “What’s wrong, baby?” She asked around his limp dick.
Mom’s familiar one-knuckle knock tapped against his door. “Alex, honey, are you all right? I 199
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thought I heard you out in the hall.”
“No, I’m fine.” He gasped at the feel of Sydney’s nails digging into his ass as she bring him closer and drew him in further.
“Did Sydney, make it back?”
Sweat beaded his upper lip. “Yeah, Mom.” He put his hands on either side of Sydney’s head trying to decide whether to pull her closer to quiet the noises she made while she worked him over with her mouth, or push her away.
“Oh, okay, well good night then.”
“‘Night, Mom.” His legs buckled with relief at the sound of his mother’s door closing.
“Let go,” he ground out, hand braced against the antique dresser and pushed Sydney away. “Go to your room.”
Sydney stood, hands on her hips. “What’s up with that?” She pointed at his less than enthusiastic member.
Alex pulled his pajama bottoms over his hips.
“Nothing is up. It’s been a long day, Syd. I’m tired.”
He grabbed up her coat and held it up for her to slip on. “We need to talk in the morning.”
The dark couldn’t hide the pout in her voice. “I have a lot to do yet for the wedding. There’s no time to talk. Maybe later.”
“It can’t wait.”
“I’m tired too, and drunk.” She sighed. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk after the wedding.” Sydney clutched the lapels together. She pointed at his crotch. “You better have that bad boy up to speed by the time we hit the tarmac in Paris. I have some big plans.”
Alex closed the door behind her and swiped his face. What was wrong with him? He’d never turned down the chance for a blowjob, but the whole time Sydney knelt in front of him, Alex felt unfaithful to 200
A Perfect Bride for Christmas Zoe. Zoe, who said she’d never stopped loving him, had. The truth shone bright in her eyes when she admitted her feelings, followed by a wistful sadness.
For a man who took pride in being able to read people, why had he been so blind to Zoe?
The memory of Zoe, soft, sweet and wild had his flesh stirring, growing harder with each pump of his heart. He reached down to palm the painful erection straining the fabric of his bottoms, willing it to go away. The urgency to bury himself in Zoe’s body, to admit he loved her too, took him to his knees. He sank on his bed and flopped back in defeat.
There was one way out.
He only had to say four little words, ‘the wedding is off’. But the snowball of events had already rolled from the top of the hill and gained momentum. The guys were going in for their tux fittings tomorrow, Mom scheduled Zoe to bring by food for her and Sydney to sample, the girls were coming for a visit with Gramma, and there he stood at the bottom of the hill—waiting.
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Chapter Twenty
Zoe finished up with the samples she’d prepared for Amelia and Sydney. A variety of appetizers and sweets were labeled, packaged, and stored away for tomorrow.
She looked out at the gray sky. The flurries the weatherman promised came in fits and starts, not enough to make driving difficult but sufficient to put everyone’s nerves on edge. The big storm wasn’t supposed to hit for a couple more days, hopefully before the big event. Zoe wondered how Amelia planned to host a reception and accommodate parking with another nine inches predicted. She’d make the food, worry about getting there when the time came, and let that be the end of her participation.
Her heart squeezed in her chest. How could Alex marry that woman? Didn’t he see Sydney’s true character? No matter what Zoe said, Alex defended Sydney. It broke her heart.
She closed the door of the commercial refrigerator, turned out the lights of her work kitchen, and went into her personal kitchen. The house was quiet. The girls were asleep upstairs, and Cherri had called and said she wouldn’t be back until after Christmas. The snow Kansas City got the other day lumbered across the state and now clobbered St. Louis.
Zoe decided she needed a cup of coffee.
A half a pot remained in the carafe. She poured a cup, adding a healthy dose of half-and-half to 202
A Perfect Bride for Christmas smooth out the flavor. Her shoulders cramped from leaning over the stainless steel counter while she worked on the samples, and sitting down seemed like paradise to her aching feet. She breathed in the aroma of the coffee.
The scent triggered a gut deep reaction. Alex’s last kiss had tasted of coffee.
Her cup clattered against the tabletop. Zoe got up and leaned against the kitchen counter, arms around herself to keep the heartache inside. How could she live without him? She’ done it before, but now it would be a thousand times harder, every time he came to see the girls, holidays, school meetings, A flush of heat washed over her at the sight of her table, such a benign thing, a place where her children ate their morning cereal. Now it was a flashpoint in her life. Alex had almost taken her on that table. She’d been a willing participant the moment he kissed her cheek. Zoe touched the spot where she’d wanted to take him inside her. Every feeling, every sensation rushed back in detail. An ache of longing grew between her legs, her breasts swelled with need.
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