by Lucy Monroe
Could Priscilla have been concerned on Isabel's behalf? "My dad accused him of using me to get revenge."
"What did Alex say?"
"He said that I had nothing to do with what happened in the past."
Priscilla smiled. "That's what he told me, too. My son is stubborn and lamentably arrogant, but he's very honest. It appears that neither of us need worry any longer."
Isabel couldn't believe it. "You mean you don't care? I thought you would hate me."
"The only thing I care about is that you are going to be my son's wife. I certainly don't hate you." Priscilla's facial expression turned thoughtful. "Unlike Alex, I do not blame Hypertron for Ray's death. Ray gave everything he had to his job and that eventually killed him. If it hadn't been the lawsuit, it would have been something else. He cared more for his career than he cared for anything else in his life."
Isabel heard the pain in Priscilla's voice and wanted to comfort her, but the past could not be changed.
She was glad Alex apparently realized that as well, because you couldn't work on a future together when one person was still living in the past.
Chapter 11
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Crack. The ball collided with Alex's racket, bounced off, and sailed toward the wall. It hit and took an immediate trajectory that looked like it would go straight over Marcus's head. Alex should be so lucky.
Marcus jumped at just the right moment and returned the ball with a slam. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Alex dove and managed to return the ball … barely. Rocking back on his feet, he just managed to stay upright. "Yeah. I'm beating you at a friendly game of racquetball."
"Beating me, my ass. We're tied."
"Not for long." Alex spiked the ball so that it would land against the wall and make a nosedive for the floor. It worked, but Marcus managed to get under it and return it. Too bad he hadn't gotten up and into position before Alex hit the ball against the wall and sent it flying over Marcus's head. "My game."
Marcus walked to the back of the room and grabbed his sweat towel. He wiped his face and then took a long drink from his water bottle. "A man getting married in less than a week shouldn't be so damn focused."
Alex shrugged. If he let himself dwell on his upcoming wedding, he would have to acknowledge the nagging worry that Isabel was going to back out at the last minute. He might not have used their sexual attraction to out-and-out blackmail her, but he was aware it had played more than a small role in her decision. That shouldn't bother him. He was usually interested in the results more than the methods of getting what he wanted, and there was no denying he wanted Isabel.
So, why did it disturb him that he'd used the prospect of mind-blowing sex and motherhood to talk her into marriage? Both were very good incentives. Maybe his problem was that he didn't know which one was most important to Isabel. He wanted her desire for him to be even stronger than the one she had for the baby he would give her.
Taking a drink from his water bottle, Alex eyed Marcus. "I'm not going to let you win just because I'm getting married in a few days."
Marcus nodded. "Don't I know it? It's more like I'm going to let you win because I'm still dazed from the news."
"Unlike you, I've never made any claims to perpetual bachelorhood." There were things Alex wanted out of life that had nothing to do with CIS. "Why be shocked?"
A shadow crossed Marcus's face. "It isn't the fact that you're getting married that's got me so shaken up. It's who you're marrying."
"Isabel is perfect for me, just ask her pastor." Alex had fought against the premarital counseling sessions, but Isabel had refused to budge. She wanted to get married in a church, her church, and that meant meeting with Pastor Dave. It had turned out better than Alex had expected, though. "According to the personality tests he gave us, we're compatible."
Marcus whistled. "Since when did the clergy start using personality tests as part of premarital counseling?"
"Pastor Dave said he's been using them for over a decade. You should have seen the questionnaire he had us fill out. It was worse than getting audited by the IRS."
"And he thinks you two are a match?"
"Yes."
"You tell him about your part in St. Clair's plans for Hypertron?" Marcus took another swig from his water bottle, his blue-eyed stare expectant.
Alex's gut twisted, but he ignored it. "That has nothing to do with Isabel." Why did he have to keep telling people that?
Marcus didn't look convinced. "Are you sure she's going to see things that way, Alex?"
"She doesn't have to know about the role CIS played in the hostile takeover."
Marcus's brows rose. "You're going to try to keep it a secret? Things like that have a way of leaking out."
That's why Alex planned to be married to Isabel if and when that happened. "Once we're married, her primary loyalty will shift to me." At least that's what he hoped would happen. "She might get angry with me at first, but she'll understand. Hypertron has always been first in Harrison's affections. Isabel isn't going to mourn its demise."
Marcus didn't look convinced. "Isabel is a female."
Exasperated, Alex said, "I know that."
"They don't see things like we do."
"She'll understand," Alex insisted.
Marcus shrugged. "I hope you're right."
Alex did, too, but he didn't voice that thought. Instead, he said, "I've got a favor to ask you."
"Whatever you need, I'm your guy."
"Make sure Harrison makes it to the wedding."
Isabel had told Alex that she had tried to call her father several times that week, but he hadn't gotten back to her. She had finally left an invitation with his secretary. Alex could not believe the man's attitude. Isabel deserved better than this, and Alex intended to see her get it.
Marcus wouldn't bother appealing to Harrison's emotions. The man didn't have any. No, Alex had total confidence that Marcus would spend the next day or so determining the most effective pressure to apply and then apply it Alex hadn't trained his blond friend for nothing on the most effective tools in information gathering and assessment.
Marcus stared in shock at Alex. "You want me to make sure your sworn enemy makes it to your wedding?"
Alex grimaced. Put like that it sounded ridiculous, but this wasn't about him. It was about the woman he planned to marry and his commitment to making her happy. "He's also Isabel's father and it's important to her."
"What do you want me to do? Kidnap him?" Marcus laughed after asking the question.
"I don't care how you do it, just make sure he's there."
Marcus's expression turned serious. "Will do."
And Alex knew he would. Marcus could be every bit as focused and ruthless as Alex when it came to following through on a project. Now, if Alex could be just as sure the bride would show up.
* * *
The bride might very well have skipped the state with a case of mammoth prewedding jitters had not her best friend arrived at her condo just as she began imagining escape scenarios. After letting Bettina in, Isabel led her to the living room.
Crossing her arms, Isabel rubbed them up and down as if she was cold. "I thought I was going to drive myself to the church." She'd turned down both Bettina and Priscilla's offers to come over the day of the wedding. Isabel had thought she would want to be alone to prepare, but she now realized it had been the habit of facing momentous occasions in her life by herself that had made her reject the women's offers.
"Girlfriend, you didn't really think I'd stay away, did you?" Bettina's pencil-thin black brows rose in mocking disbelief.
Isabel should have known that turning down her friend's suggestion to come over and help her get ready wouldn't wash. "What about Tyrone and the children?" Isabel asked.
"They'll meet us at the church later. I brought you a present." Bettina handed Isabel a box wrapped in white foil paper with a huge iridescent bow on top.
Isabel's eyes burned. Why was sh
e being so emotional? She forced herself to smile. "Thank you."
"Open it."
As Isabel obeyed her friend's command, Bettina said, "There wasn't time to get a bridal shower together, but I wanted to get you something special for your wedding night."
The box opened to reveal whispery white silk and lace and a pair of white fur mules, the perfect slippers to wear with a peignoir. Isabel pulled the gown out. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen—and the most terrifying. It brought home more surely than anything else could have that she was going to marry Alex and spend the night in his arms.
"Thank you." She leaned forward and hugged Bettina.
"Once Alex sees you in that, the poor sucker won't remember his own name."
Isabel nodded, not really focusing on her friend's words. Her gaze skimmed the assorted packing boxes and crates now littering her living room floor. Was this really her condo? She and Alex had agreed that it made more sense for her to move into his farmhouse than for him to live here. For one thing the farmhouse was bigger, and for another it had a state-of-the-art security system. Something Alex was sure she needed. Just as he was sure she needed him.
She'd given up arguing about either.
The living room seemed to symbolize Isabel's life—a jumbled collection of confusion. Was she really getting married in less than two hours? To a man who fit her requirements but didn't love her? Pastor Dave said they were a perfect match. He'd still recommended waiting to get married until they knew each other better, but when Alex pushed him, her pastor had agreed to perform the ceremony. He even seemed happy about it. Isabel wished she could borrow some of that joy.
Right now all she felt was panic.
Plopping down on the sofa, in the one small spot not occupied by packing paper and tape, she said, "I can't do it."
Showing no consideration for the expensive hot pink creation she was wearing, Bettina dropped onto her knees in front of Isabel. "You nervous, honey?"
Isabel swallowed the hysterical laughter that tried to bubble out of her. "Terrified."
Bettina took her hand and rubbed it. "A lot of women are on their wedding day."
Isabel looked straight into Bettina's eyes. "Were you?"
Bettina didn't lie to make Isabel feel better. "No, I knew I wanted Tyrone and I was ecstatic."
Isabel took that in.
"I want Alex." She wanted him more than the air she breathed, more than she'd ever wanted her dad to notice her. "Maybe that's what scares me so much. Alex doesn't love me."
She couldn't prevent her voice from quavering on the last sentence. The fact that Alex didn't love her was the biggest factor contributing to Isabel's fear. The speedy marriage, moving from her condo, making love completely—all of it—would be easier to deal with if she knew Alex loved her.
Bettina didn't laugh. The customary mischief in her eyes was missing. Their black depths were filled with warm understanding. "Listen to me, Isabel. I know he hasn't said that he loves you, but he looks at you like you matter to him. I've seen that look in Tyrone's eyes and it's love."
Could Bettina be right? Was it possible that Alex had fallen as far and as fast as Isabel had but just didn't recognize the symptoms? "The one time I brought up the subject, he got irritated. He said it wasn't on my list."
"You showed him your list?"
"He found it in my office and he stole it. He acts like it's some kind of contract between us. Since love and romance aren't on the list, he thinks I shouldn't expect either."
Instead of the outraged sympathy she expected to see on Bettina's face, Isabel watched in fascination as her friend's face contorted in an attempt not to laugh. She couldn't hold it in, though, and the merriment burst out of Bettina. She laughed so hard that she had to hold her stomach.
"That's so much like a man." Bettina fell sideways on the carpet and laughed harder.
The humor in the situation finally struck Isabel and she felt laughter well up in her. Once she started, she couldn't seem to stop. She laughed and laughed, her and Bettina's amusement feeding off each other until her sides ached and her mouth hurt from smiling. Tears trickled down her face, but she barely noticed them as her nerves found an outlet in laughter.
She fell off the couch and ended up on the floor by Bettina. Isabel didn't know how long they laughed, but the hilarity finally abated enough for her to scoot herself into a sitting position against the couch.
Bettina moved to sit next to her. She looked down at her dress and smiled. "There's something to be said for wearing crushed silk. No matter how wrinkled it gets, it looks like it's supposed to be that way."
Isabel eyed Bettina's dress with a critical eye. "You're right. I'll have to remember that."
Bettina sighed. "You know, you'll probably have to show the dolt that he loves you."
"How do I do that?"
"By loving him." Bettina put up her hand when Isabel opened her mouth to protest such a simplistic statement. "It worked with Tyrone, and he's no smarter in the touchy-feely department than your Alex."
"Right." Isabel wasn't buying it. "Tyrone says he loves you all the time and he's so affectionate."
"I taught him," Bettina said with smug complacency. "Listen, girlfriend, men don't get it, usually. They think if they give you great sex, it's enough. Well, even if the sex is out of this world, it can't replace the three little words."
Isabel had her doubts about the "out of this world" part. Not that she dismissed Alex's abilities in this area, but he would be handicapped by his partner's inexperience and admittedly dismal track record. "So, how did you get that through Tyrone's head?"
"I made him realize how much he liked hearing it from me."
"What? You said it, he liked it, and so he repeated it back to you?" That sounded too easy. Besides, she'd never told Alex she loved him. She was afraid to make herself that vulnerable.
Bettina's eyes filled with mischief. "Sort of. I said it. He liked it, and then I stopped saying it. Not for long, mind you. Just a few days. Then I said it only when we were making love. After a while of that, I asked him flat out if he liked hearing it. He did. I told him that if he liked hearing it, he better learn to say it and not just when we were making love, either. I also told him that I needed to hear it, that the words gave me something even his body couldn't."
"I've never told Alex that I love him."
Bettina nodded. "I figured you hadn't. You keep your emotions pretty well guarded. It took me a while to figure that out about you. You seem so open. Always friendly, always willing to listen, but you don't share much of your inner woman, do you?"
Isabel sighed. "It's safer that way."
"It's lonely that way."
Isabel didn't deny it. She had been lonely so much of her life, but she had thought it was better than being hurt. Now she wasn't so sure. She hadn't told anyone she loved them since Anne, Nanny Number Seven, had left Isabel had said it while hugging Anne good-bye.
"I love you, Bettina." The words came out before she had a chance to think about them and now she was glad. Bettina was the best friend she'd ever had and deserved to know what a special place she had in Isabel's heart
Bettina hugged her. "I love you, too, Isabel. I couldn't love you any more if you were my flesh-and-blood sister."
The words touched Isabel so deeply that tears leaked out of her eyes. "Thank you."
Blowing out a heavy breath, Bettina stood up. "You ready to get dressed? You're getting married soon, and I don't think Alex would appreciate you showing up in sweats, no matter how cool your tennis shoes are."
* * *
"Where the hell is she?" Alex demanded for the third time in ten minutes.
Pastor Dave cleared his throat and Alex mumbled an apology before resuming his pacing in the pastor's office.
Marcus shrugged. "You told me to get Harrison here, not the bride."
Alex hadn't asked anyone to make sure Isabel got there. He had thought about sending his mom over to her condo but decided against i
t. Isabel had to come of her own free will. He'd pushed her enough. He was determined to give her this last opportunity to say no, something he had avoided at all costs for the past two weeks. It was a risk, but he couldn't force her to marry him. He needed to know that she wanted to marry him.
Priscilla came into Pastor Dave's office. "She's here."
Thank you, God.
Alex, Marcus, and the pastor joined the wedding guests waiting in the main sanctuary. Neither he nor Isabel had invited many friends. With his mother and her father, the guest list numbered less than a dozen. He ignored them all in favor of looking at his bride and stopped dead in his tracks. She was so damn beautiful. She'd pulled her hair up into a twist, but honey-colored strands escaped to frame her face. Her dress, a long white sheath, covered her body from neck to toe while accentuating the curves he'd been dreaming about for several nearly sleepless nights.
She had a death grip on the bouquet of white orchids she held. Her eyes flitted from one guest to the next until they settled on her father. Harrison nodded, his mouth curved in the slightest of smiles. Isabel's eyes filled with tears. Then her gaze flew to Alex, and he could feel her gratitude across the almost-empty sanctuary. She knew he'd been responsible for her father's attendance. Holding her stare, Alex walked over to join her in front of the pastor.
Needing to touch her, Alex reached out and took one of her hands away from its death grip on the flowers. He folded it in his own, pleased when Isabel gripped his hand tighter than she had her bouquet. He caressed her palm with his thumb and he felt the tension in her ease. When it came time to speak her vows, she said them in a husky but firm voice.
Chapter 12
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Isabel slipped the nightgown Bettina had given her over her head. The white silk brushed the floor and swirled around her ankles in voluminous, sensual folds, but it was so thin, she felt as if she was wearing nothing at all. The oversized mirror in the en suite bathroom reflected every curve and intimate detail of Isabel's body to her wary gaze.
She hastily pulled on the long lace peignoir that had come with the nightgown. Its sleeves ended at her wrists in luxurious ruffled cuffs, making her feel alluringly feminine, but looking in the mirror of Alex's bathroom, her mouth went dry. The two thin layers did not hide the darkness of her nipples. She unpinned her hair, letting it float around her face in a honey-brown cloud. The gown was too short to hide anything, either. She sighed. That was the point, so why was she fighting it? The nightgown was supposed to be sexy.
