A Perfect Bride For Christmas (26 page)

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don’t cook. I’ll do that after we get married.”

Alex had to smile at that. “Throwing together a salad isn’t brain surgery, Syd.”

She gave a delicate sniff. “We could’ve eaten out with friends.”

“I didn’t want to eat out.” He picked up another plate and attacked it with the spatula. “Mom may think she’s able to do everything, but I don’t trust her in the kitchen. She has this notion she can balance on one foot while juggling these heavy pots and pans.”

“I can’t eat this.” She pushed the plate away in disgust. “She could’ve grilled a little bit of chicken, couldn’t she? If your mother insists on cooking, she ought to take the tastes of her guests into

consideration.”

“Number one, you are not a guest. You were the

one who insisted on staying here before the wedding.

Second, this isn’t a restaurant. If you want

something different, you’re out of luck.” He stopped scrapping and sat the plate on the counter.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I’m stressed out,” Sydney jumped from her

chair. Panic lanced through Sydney’s eyes, her chin went up. “There’s a lot to do. By the way, I made plans for us. The Houseman’s have invited us for drinks and dancing at the country club to celebrate our marriage.”

“Sydney, how many times to I have to tell you, I can’t leave Mom alone?”

“What about those brothers of yours? Can’t they watch her? How much work does it take to sit with a cripple?”

Alex jammed his hands into his pocket. He had

to hold back the temptation to grab her and shake the hell out of her. “I made it my responsibility.

Besides, Clint and Heath have plans.”

“They can’t be bothered to change their plans?”

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Her lips turned into a pout as she sidled up to him.

“I wouldn’t ask it of them.” He tried to step

away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her long body brushed his, her hips rolled against his groin in invitation. He tried to back away, but she held on tighter. “We have to talk, Syd. It’s important.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Her pouty voice grated

against his nerves. “I want to have fun like we used to.” Alex reached up to untangle her arms. “Not tonight.”

Her emotions did a one-eighty as she jerked

away. “When did you become so hateful?”

“About the same time you started to act like a

spoiled brat.”

“I’m going upstairs to change. The Houseman’s

are meeting us at
Maintenant
on the Plaza. You’re welcome to join us.” She flounced out of the kitchen.

Alex spent the next few minutes getting the

dishes in the dishwasher. He hit the wash cycle and leaned back against the counter to gather his

thoughts.

He should’ve told Sydney he wanted out—no

postponement, just out of the marriage. Lyle’s not so veiled threats hammered away in his head. He

couldn’t do that to his family but he couldn’t live with himself if he went through with it.

Alex spent most of the meal listening to his

mother drone on about the samples Zoe planned to bring by tomorrow. Every time her name came up in the conversation, he swore he could still smell her on his body, taste her quivering flesh under his mouth, or see the way she threw back her head the moment she came for him.

The wedding net closed tighter.

He had to get out of here. Alex deserted the

kitchen as fast as an escapee going over the walls 207

Dyann Love Barr

and dodging the scent hounds.

The clock on the microwave said ten ‘til seven.

Let Sydney meet the Houseman’s on her own. He

didn’t like the couple. They were a little too friendly, and the gossip he’d heard left him unsettled. They might run with the social set but Alex didn’t want to get involved in their free-wheeling lifestyle.

Alex hoped Sydney didn’t come back in the same

condition as last night. He’d spent all day wearing a turtleneck because of the hicky she’d left on his neck. Clint or Heath would give him never-ending crap about it if they got one look.

No, if anyone was up for a heartfelt it was Clint.

Hadn’t anyone else around here seen the way he

stared at Jesse or the how she returned the favor? If Alex could capture the pheromones rocketing around the room, he’d be a millionaire. Liquid sex in a bottle.

He’d mosey up to Clint’s room to give him some

grief.

Alex bounded up the stairs and stopped at the

closed bathroom door. He smiled at the

unmistakable sound of his older brother, cursing under his breath.
Oh yeah, time to play.

Alex banged on the door.

“What?” Clint barked.

“You’ve been in there forever. I gotta pee. Let me in,” Alex shouted.

“Go downstairs.”

Clint opened the door, dressed only in his jeans, and tried to sidestep Alex.
Nope, wasn’t going to
happen, Big Brother
.

Clint scowled at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying

to get dressed here.”

Alex glanced down at the Rolex Sydney had

given him for his birthday. “Where are you off to that requires forty-five minutes in the bathroom?”

“Let’s see, I showered, I shaved, do you really 208

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need a full run-down?”

Clint’s casual tone didn’t fool Alex for a second.

Steam was building behind those amber eyes. Now to see how far he could push it without ending up a greasy spot on the bathroom floor. “You’ve got a date.” It was hard to keep the ‘nanner-nanner’ out of his voice.

Clint scoffed. “Don’t be absurd.”

Slowly shaking his head, Alex smirked. “No,

you’ve got a date.”

Clint shouldered past Alex with a less than

gentle push, and headed for his bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Alex did a hop-skip step behind Clint. The sound of Clint grinding his teeth sounded like music to his ears.

Without looking back, Clint answered, “I’m

helping Jesse chaperone Ethan and his friends at the ice rink.”

“So you have a date with Jesse.” Alex tried not to chuckle, but it got harder by the second. “That’s what that hug was all about when you came in.”

Clint whirled around, the expression on his face priceless. “What?”

“When you got here last night. The hug. You

hugged our little sister.”

Alex wanted to do a victory dance the instant

Clint tried to fake him out with a puzzled look.

When that didn’t work, Clint screwed up his face in his best Big Brother frown. “I hugged her. Didn’t you?”

Alex held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, no

need to get testy. If you’ve got a thing for Jesse…”

He swallowed a snicker. “I didn’t know you liked women who could punch better than you.”

Clint gave him a throaty growl and bit out, “I

don’t have a
date
with Jesse.”

“Right. And you haven’t spent virtually all your time with her, either.”

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Just then, Sydney stepped out of Alex’s

bedroom, into the hall, dressed for an evening out.

“Alex, I need you in here. Stop playing around.” She held the held the top of her dress closed at her neck.

The dark green cashmere flowed down her body,

draping over her pert breasts, down her hips, and dipping until it defined her mound.

Now it was Alex’s turn to frown. “I’m busy right now, Sydney. My every waking hour doesn’t belong to this wedding.”

“If you intend to have everything go smoothly, it better.”

If Clint hadn’t been standing right in front of them, he’d have told her he didn’t give two shits if the wedding came off at all.

Alex followed Sydney to her room. She whirled

around to face him. “This has nothing to do with the wedding. Well indirectly.”

Sydney threw herself in his arms, laying her

head on his chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so awful earlier.” Her eyes slid up to his, pleading for forgiveness. “Your mother’s cooking is so good—I did taste it—really. But I’m afraid I won’t fit into my wedding dress.”

The emotional roller coaster made Alex dizzy.

He didn’t know what to say, how to react around her anymore. Deep down, the misgivings poked at him with pitchforks of doubt.

Sydney stepped away to whirl around. The dress

now gaped open until a simple slide of his fingers under the soft fabric would make it fall to the floor.

He’d done it before. The long line of her spine dipped down to the rise of her derrière. She never wore underwear with the soft, dark green cashmere

jersey.

“Zip my dress would you?” She lifted her hair to present her back, and a zipper he well knew she’d done on her own before now.

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He pulled the zipper up without the usual kiss

at the nape of her neck. “Mom expects you to be there tomorrow morning for breakfast. Zoe is coming by with the samples for the reception. We can’t make plans unless we sit down and discuss things.”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” Sydney picked her coat off the bed and slid it on. “The wedding is on Christmas Eve. I’m booking the country club to

make it easy on your mother’s reception. That means we don’t need Zoe Bennett.”

She brushed past him in a cloud of designer

perfume and shot him a look over her shoulder.” She paused at the doorway and shot him a look over her shoulder. “Is that planning enough for you? She vanished out the door

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The next morning, Sydney sat at his left side,

stiff and acting every inch the queen. It might be considered perfect poise in Buckingham Palace but not at Hollyfield where breakfast could end up in a free-for-all.

Alex’s chest tightened, he clenched his teeth to keep his mouth shut. If she’d only meet his family halfway, they’d come the rest of the way. She rolled in earlier this morning in time to meet Heath.

Sydney’s frosty attitude toward his brother matched the ice in Heath’s eyes.

His mother bustled around the kitchen on one

foot with a spatula in her hand. She took one look at Sydney and shot him a look that asked
what’s her
problem.
Alex her gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. How could he tell her when Sydney’s

emotions were all over the map?

Mom hobbled from the stove and sat a large

platter of hash browns on the table.

Alex gave up nagging his mother about going

without her crutches. Let Dr. Singh lower the boom.

She’d prepared enough food for a small contingent of soldiers, rather than three men and two women.

Especially, if one of them stuck her nose in the air and pushed her pancakes around her plate. Sydney eyed them as if they were going to jump up and bite her on the ass.

The mental image of Mom’s silver dollar size

pancakes attacking Sydney’s backside made him

smile. It was evil, he knew, but impossible to keep 212

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the smirk off his face.

Frustration ate at him.

Dad should be here. Right now, Alex would give

anything for a heart-to-heart, even if he didn’t like what his father might tell him. Dad had never shied away from telling the truth to his sons. No, Frank King didn’t put up with bullshit from anyone, not even his kids.

Neither did Mom, but she couldn’t see things

from a man’s perspective, didn’t know the shorthand they used when talking.

He glanced over at Mom. She was the only

person who could make Dad quake in his boots. Alex smiled. Yeah, they all knew she had Dad whipped, but she pretended like he was king of the Hollyfield.

“It’s about time you got up and moving,” his

mother greeted Clint as he walked into the kitchen yawning and bleary-eyed. “I was just about to send Alex up to drag you out of bed.”

Clint gave her a false frown and moved to the

coffee pot.

“Long night, brother?” Alex couldn’t resist.

The smile on Clint’s face never made it to his

eyes. “I’m on vacation.”

“Uh huh.” Alex bent over his plate to shovel in a forkful of pancakes. “I wonder if Jesse would say the same thing.”

Clint looked over at Heath, waiting for a snarky remark.

Heath seemed lost in thought, shoving his eggs

around on the plate, ignoring the conversation.

Without having to deal with any rejoinders from Heath, Clint leaned his hip against the countertop and propped his foot on a chair, his eyes on Mom.

“No crutches again?”

Alex focused on Clint’s eyes. Let Clint be the

point man in this morning’s skirmish.

Mom threatened Clint with a shake of her

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spatula. She was pretty handy with the spatula—

she could whip out pancakes or flatten hinnies like nobody’s business. “Eat while you can. Zoe will be here any minute.”

Sydney let out a lady-like harrumph. “Is she

bringing those hellions of hers too?”

The tension in the kitchen was palpable, thick

as if Sydney had lobbed a live grenade into the room.

Heath and Clint stared at Alex, waiting, knowing he was a slow burn. He’d reached the end of his fuse.

Alex set down his fork with a deliberation that belied the amount of self-control his action required.

“Those are my children, Sydney,” he ground out.

Sydney’s face reddened and twisted into a snarl.

She started to snap at him, forgetting she had an avid audience. Mom held the spatula like a weapon, while Clint and Heath just stared at her, daring her to say another word.

Sydney decided to eat her breakfast and picked

up a piece of toast. Good thing, because Alex felt sorely tempted to shove every one of the pancakes down her throat.

His mother’s words finally sunk in. “Zoe’s

coming by?” he asked.