Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
thoughts. "You'd look good in that."
Ignoring the tingling of her skin, she glanced down at the
midnight blue fabric in her hand. Tiny glass beads made a
brushed satin bodice sparkle along the neckline and spaghetti
straps. Floor length, the formal tapered out at the hips, and
fell in elegant folds. Simple, yet classic.
She prayed for a steady voice. "You think?"
"Yeah." His husky murmur brushed against her cheek.
Every nerve ending rose to attention at the warm wash of
his breath. Her stomach coiled down tight, her lungs refused
to expand. Fighting back a whimper, Jesse ordered her legs
not to give out. Clint was close, yet he'd been close a dozen
times or more. He had no way of knowing whether she'd look
good in any gown, and he certainly wasn't about to kiss her
cheek. He wouldn't dare do so in public.
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His lips brushed against her skin, stirring the fine hairs on
her face.
"Okay, Mister King. I have everything all documented. If
you'll pass the word to your brother, I still need to see Alex
for his final fitting."
The blonde's intrusion shattered the spell that held Jesse
captive. Clint dropped his hand and stepped away, leaving her
to tremble alone. His cologne lingered in the air as he made
his way to the door, and Jesse reluctantly let go of the dress.
"Ready, Jesse? I'm starved."
When she turned around, the intensity in his gaze had
dimmed. He gave her the same boyish smile she'd known
since childhood. While he held the door open for her, he made
no further attempt to touch her, nor did he linger on the
sidewalk. Striding on ahead, he assumed a quick pace that
she struggled to match in her boots.
"Where are we going?"
"Down to Nickey's. I'm craving a Philly cheese."
Clint watched the constant motion of Jesse's hands as she
talked. She hadn't been still since they'd sat. Even through
their light meal, she'd constantly shifted position in her chair.
All signs something was eating at her.
Just like it ate at him.
For God's sake, he'd kissed her in the middle of a store.
Had that saleswoman not interrupted, he'd have spun Jesse
around right there and taken what he really wanted. Not her
silky cheek, but her soft mouth. And she'd have let him.
He knew that the moment he caught her watching him in
the mirror. A hundred times, he'd seen Jesse jealous. There
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was no mistaking the flash behind those indigo eyes when she
believed her territory had been invaded. Once, he would have
written her reaction off to sisterly affection. Now, he didn't try
to delude himself. Jesse Saurs wanted him. She might not be
willing to admit it, probably didn't want to confront this any
more than he did. But she shared the same magnetic pull he
couldn't shake.
Her phone blared out a short classical tune. Giving him a
grin, she dug in her purse and pulled it out. As she examined
the LCD, her delicate brows tugged together. "Just a minute."
At his nod, she flipped the phone open. "Jessica Saurs."
Jessica? Last he'd heard, she hated her given name.
"Oh hi, Brenda. I didn't recognize your number." She
glanced up to mouth an apology. "Right. I hadn't forgotten.
Oh, really? I'm so sorry to hear that." Gnawing on her lower
lip, she plucked at a cold French fry and rolled her eyes. "No,
I don't have plans. I can do that. I know Ethan was looking
forward to it. Sam probably is too."
Sam's mother.
Clint made the connection and relaxed into
his seat, prepared for the conversation to take a while. While
he waited, he studied the woman who accompanied him to
lunch. She was different. Yet, still the same in so many ways.
Her clothes had changed. She carried herself with more
confidence. No, she'd always had confidence. She carried
herself with more elegance. But beneath all her classic
beauty, she was Jesse. Funny, tenderhearted, comfortable
Jesse.
Too comfortable, frankly. It would be far too easy to reach
across the table and take her hand. A small part of him
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already protested that he hadn't. He should be touching her.
Contact was the only thing that would quench the flames that
licked at his gut.
"Of course, Brenda. It's no problem. I'll see you then."
Jesse snapped her phone shut with a grumble. "I just got
elected chaperone."
Clint shook off the wayward nature of his thoughts and
lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Brenda was going to take Ethan, Sam, and a another
friend to Crown Center tonight for ice skating. She's sick."
"You're in charge now."
On a grin, she lifted her Pepsi and sipped from the straw.
"Wanna come keep me company?"
"Tonight?" He scrolled through what he knew of his
family's plans. Nothing immediate came to mind.
"Yes. At eight. I can pick up the boys and swing by to get
you around seven-thirty. That would give you time to eat with
your mom."
Ice skating. Man, he hadn't done that in years. "I'll
probably break an ankle, like Mom."
"Take pity on me, Clint," she pled with an exaggerated
whine. "Three thirteen-year-olds. And girls." Her eyes danced
with mirth as she groaned.
"Pity, huh? I think you just want to see me make a fool out
of myself."
Her giggle danced through the air. "Is that a yes?"
The corner of his mouth pulled with amusement. "Yeah, I'll
go. I'd rather break my tailbone than sit and listen to what
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kind of food we're having for Alex's wedding, or how we're
going to arrange the tables for the reception."
She reached across to pat the back of his hand. "Poor
thing. It's such a terrible thing that Alex is finally settling
down."
"Have you met her?"
"Sydney?"
Clint nodded. Jesse wrinkled her nose. "She's vile. Fake,
haughty, superficial, and she thinks she's better than
everyone else. Including Alex. I can't stand the woman."
A laugh burst free. "Tell me how you really feel." His
humor slipped under the power of her twinkling eyes. The
urge became too much. He turned his hand over and twined
his fingers through hers.
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Clint dropped his razor into the sink with a hiss. Tilting his
chin, he examined the small cut along the side of his jaw.
When a bead of blood rolled down his cheek, he swore again.
Damn it all. 7:20. Jesse would be here any minute, and at
this rate, his face would look like he'd had a run in with a
feral cat.
He plucked his razor out of the water-filled basin, shook it
with a snap of his wrist, and tipped his face to the light again.
Easy does it. You've been doing this since you were thirteen.
As he applied the blade to the edge of the shaving cream,
heavy banging erupted on his door.
He jerked, nicked his cheek again, and slammed the razor
onto the marble sink top. "What?" he barked.
"You've been in there forever. I gotta pee. Let me in," Alex
protested.
"Go downstairs." With a deep breath, Clint picked up his
razor once more. In the brief silence, he quickly finished his
task and set the razor aside to splash water on his face. He
grabbed his towel, blotted his cheeks, and gave his reflection
a perfunctory nod.
Dressed in only his jeans, he grabbed for the doorknob,
intending to return to his room.
Alex blocked his exit. A wry smirk twisted his youngest
brother's features, and his blue eyes glinted with mischief.
Clint scowled at him. "Do you mind? I'm trying to get
dressed here."
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"Where are you off to that requires forty-five minutes in
the bathroom?"
Forty-five minutes? Had he really taken that long? Good
grief, what the hell was the matter with him? He was going
ice-skating, for God's sake. Not to the opera.
He pulled in a quick breath and tried for casual. "Let's see,
I showered, I shaved, do you really need a full run-down?"
Alex stepped back, cocked his head, and fixed Clint with a
thoughtful stare. "You've got a date."
Clint scoffed. "Don't be absurd."
Slowly shaking his head, Alex argued, "No, you've got a
date."
Damn. This was exactly what he'd feared would happen.
His nosy brothers would butt in and create problems. He had
to keep his cool. Play it off. No way did he dare let them know
anything was different than the last time they'd fought over
the bathroom.
He shouldered past his brother, heading for his bedroom.
"Where are you going?"
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 observed, a touch of
laughter filtering into his voice. "That's what that hug was all
about when you came in."
Clint whirled around, incredulous. "What?"
"When you got here last night. The hug. You hugged our
little sister."
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He scrunched his features together, not sure he was
hearing this exchange correctly. Opening his eyes, he fixed
Alex with a stern 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 paused to swallow
a snicker. "I didn't know you liked women who could punch
better than you."
A growl bubbled to the back of Clint's throat. Nothing
would feel better than punching his brother square in the
nose for this nonsense. They were too old for teasing. But
then again, it was Jesse. Any other woman wouldn't be worth
their time. They'd stay out of it. However, she was family.
Therefore, his brothers held a vested interest in her life.
Clint ground his teeth together and bit out, "I don't have a
date with Jesse."
"Right. And you haven't spent virtually all your time with
her either."
As Clint sifted through which petty insults he could throw
back in Alex's face to silence him, Sydney stepped out of
Alex's bedroom, into the hall. "Alex, stop playing around, I
need you in here."
All the humor in Alex's expression drained away, and his
mouth tightened into a hard line. As Clint lifted an eyebrow,
he caught the way Alex's left hand curled into a fist. "I'm
busy right now, Sydney. My every waking hour doesn't belong
to this wedding."
"It better...if you intend to have everything go smoothly."
At Sydney's clipped response, a shudder crawled down
Clint's spine. Alex had always wanted the perfect wife, and
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he'd sure as hell found it. Designer jeans, tailored T-shirts,
shoes Clint didn't have to guess were expensive—hell, the
woman didn't even have a single strand of hair loose on her
ponytail. All things that would have painted a picture of
beauty, if she kept her mouth shut.
He shook off the chill her icy tone created and turned his
back on Alex. "I gotta get dressed. Jesse's going to be here in
fifteen minutes."
Inside his room, he tugged on a long-sleeved shirt,
covered it with a heavy sweater, and stuffed his feet into his
hiking boots. Giving his reflection one last once over to make
sure his cheek no longer bled, he grabbed his coat and
hurried down the stairs. He entered the living room as Jesse
walked through the front door.
She flashed him a bright smile, then bent over to kiss his
mother's cheek.
"Jessica, so good to see you, dear."
Something unfamiliar did a slow roll in Clint's gut as he
watched Jesse interact with his mother. They'd always been
close, but the last several years seemed to have bonded them
further. Jesse tucked the afghan around his mother's lap,
retrieved her favorite throw pillow from the couch, and
positioned it in the small of his mother's back. In turn,
Amelia's gaze lit with affection, and her leathery hands
clutched Jesse's tight.
Sydney didn't look after his mom that way. Sydney hardly
spoke to her.
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Jesse, on the other hand, tended to his mother the way he
would have, had he been down here moments earlier. With
love.
She looked over his mother's head, and her bright blue
eyes landed on him. Her lips partly open, her smile soft and
inviting, she stirred sensation through his blood. In a
heartbeat's passing, warmth filtered through his veins,
seeped down his spine, and pooled in his gut.