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]
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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]
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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
