Read A Perfect Bride For Christmas Online
Authors: Dyann Love Barr
food,” Amelia interjected. “Zoe’s exactly who I want to do the job, Sydney. Shall we get down to the particulars?”
Sydney pouted but sat in a rose chair next to the couch.
The fight would be to the finish, but Zoe put her money on Amelia.
Maybe she’d made a snap judgment. Maybe
Sydney had a good side, and if she were honest, maybe a small part of her still had some unresolved issues with Alex. Right now, those issues were
sitting at home having an after preschool snack.
One thing became clear as the meeting
progressed—no way in hell would she ever let
Sydney Stanford anywhere near her children.
****
concentrate on the screen of his netbook, but the words blurred together into a mishmash of gray. His mother’s affairs should come first, especially with this Keeley Jacobs popping up into the picture with 40
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her demands and threats. Instead, all he could focus on was a pair of hazel eyes.
Only one person in the world had eyes like that, eyes that held the rainbow. Kaleidoscope eyes.
The woman at the door couldn’t be Zoe Hillman.
Could she?
Petite, yet voluptuous, she had the kind of body that begged a man to explore every inch. Her breasts were full and high, her hips just wide enough to balance the whole. He could imagine tracing his hands over the slopes of her backside while he kissed Mrs. Bennett’s smiling mouth. Were her nipples
brown, pink, or coral?
He didn’t usually find her type of women
attractive, his taste ran to the long, slim, blond, model types rather than short and curvy. Mrs.
Bennett could be described in one word—cute.
His physical response unnerved him.
Alex had to admit she intrigued him. No, it went deeper than that—hell, he had to be out of his mind, sitting here with a boner for the caterer while his fiancée sat discussing menus with her in the next room. Alex rubbed his nose harder. Mrs. Bennett probably had six-feet-four of mean husband who’d beat the crap out of him if he so much as touched her. What was wrong with him?
It had to be the eyes.
He straightened up, adjusted his slacks, and
began to Google Classic Kitchen Catering.
Bingo! A very elegant website popped on the
screen with pictures of food that made Alex’s
stomach growl in protest. Sydney’s idea of lunch had been a few leaves of lettuce with some lemon juice.
He’d wanted to order the steak, but she gave him a look that bode ill.
Damn it, he’d wanted the steak, and he’d let
Sydney call the shots. When had he become so
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pussy-whipped? For a man who made confrontation a livelihood, why hadn’t he ordered the fucking steak?
His stomach growled again.
Alex went to the ABOUT button on the menu
and read the story of Classic Kitchen Catering, located in North Kansas City, founded a year ago by Zoe Bennett. She’d already garnered some
prestigious awards, and the critics raved about her food. It
was
Zoe. Why hadn’t she acknowledged him at the door?
He sucked in a breath at the stab of hurt. A
wave of guilt followed. He’d made a point of keeping out of her life after the annulment. She’d said she’d wanted it that way, and he had no choice but to honor her decision.
Frantic for more information, he continued his
search to find the obituary of James Oliver Bennett, a prominent attorney in the St. Louis area. Zoe—a widow?
James Bennett died of heart failure at the age of forty-five, Alex read on, leaving behind his wife, Zoe Ann Hillman Bennett and their three daughters
Mia, Michaela and Macy.
Alex shook his head. Kids. He’d never imagined
Zoe with children. But then, he’d never once
considered her sexually attractive. James Bennett saw past the outside enough to want to have
children with her.
Shame made his face heat. The words and
accusations Zoe had hurled at him in that Las Vegas room flooded back to him in a rush. His growling stomach turned into a vat of acid. The asshole came back in full force, judging Zoe, forgetting the real person who’d been trapped inside her fleshy prison.
Yes, it was official; he’d earned the title jerk with a capital J. A jerk sitting here, lusting after the 42
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woman he’d hurt, someone who’d been his friend for so long. None of it would’ve happened if he’d had the balls to face The Partners’—and Tommy’s—
disapproval. Now his mother had hired her to cater his wedding.
“This is wrong on so many levels,” he muttered
and rubbed the knot on his nose.
Alex tried to pull his attention back to Keeley Jacobs. He couldn’t think. He shut down his netbook.
Tomorrow would work as well, since Zoe wouldn’t be in the next room, haunting him like a ghost from the past. How strange to think of her as the woman he bedded and wedded for one night. Then he
remembered—her nipples were rosy pink with just a hint of coral.
He needed a drink. Dad usually kept a supply of bourbon or scotch in the den, in the credenza, unless Mom had cleared it out after the funeral.
Alex looked through the cabinets until he found Dad’s stash, along with two glasses. He pulled out a bottle of scotch, blew the dust out of one glass, then poured two healthy fingers worth. Then another.
After he fortified himself, he headed back to join the ladies. He wanted to see Zoe again, to talk to her. Somehow, within the last few minutes, it had become terribly important to him to find out if she had a good life in St. Louis.
Once Alex came through the door, he wanted to
turn right around and get another drink.
His mother sat with a serene expression on her
face, while Sydney looked ready to throw a hissy fit.
Zoe had left. Disappointment set like a rock on his heart.
“The country club would be much better for the
reception. This caterer woman clearly isn’t up to the task. I mean, she didn’t want to give me what I requested.”
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“I think asking for made to order filet mignon
for five hundred people is a bit much.” His mother flipped a page in the notebook resting in her lap and picked up a pen to scribble a note. “Besides, we are keeping the number for the reception down to two hundred people.”
Sydney flounced to an overstuffed chair and
plopped down in a huff. “This will never work.” Her hand waved around the room. “It’s so small and
confined.”
“I like to think of it as homey.”
“But I’ve invited over five hundred on my own.”
“Sydney, we originally agreed we could have no
more than two hundred at the reception. If you want to accommodate more people, it will be up to you to provide a much bigger heated tent. The food will be simple appetizers, something easy for the guests to choose from. You will have to get together with your wedding planner to make the appropriate changes.”
“Alex.” Sydney jumped to her feet when she saw
him. A cloud of anger covered her beautiful face, but she put on her best
give me what I want
smile.
“Explain to your mother that I want the reception at the country club.” She sidled up to him, rubbing her hand up and down his arm. “It’s my day after all.”
Irritation itched along his spine. He would break out in hives caused by stress until the wedding was over and he and Sydney were flying to Paris. He’d wanted a few days of relaxing in the Keys but
Sydney’s parents gifted them with the honeymoon.
From the look on his mother’s face, she’d dug in her heels as well. Alex could feel the hives popping out. “We’ll order a larger tent. Mom is paying for the reception, Syd, let her choose the food.”
“But.” Sydney’s expression turned mulish.
“In case you forgot, I’m a part of this wedding.”
He held out his hand for her to be quiet. “I’m sure Mrs. Bennett will do a fine job. We will pay for the 44
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difference in the cost of the food as well.”
“I want—”
“You know, right now, I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, it would be a hell of a lot easier to go to the courthouse and have Judge Parker marry us.
Quick and to the point. I don’t give a rat’s ass about all this wedding…” He searched for the right word.
“Shit.”
Whoa.
It had to be the whiskey piping up like a drunken sailor on shore leave. He hastened to soften his harsh words. “I love you, Syd, I really do, but there are times you make me want to sit on the floor of my closet with a bottle of scotch.”
“Thank you, Alex.” His mother didn’t look the
bit phased by his pickled backbone. “If Sydney wants more people, then by all means, order the tent. I’ll need a headcount by the end of the week.” She closed her notebook with a snap. “It wouldn’t be fair to Zoe to expect to be doing appetizers for five hundred, only to find she has to provide for more. We’re not adding anyone else to the list.”
Sydney jumped to her feet with a bullish scowl
on her face. “Look here—”
Alex handed Sydney her purse so hard her
breath came out in a
whoosh
. “I wouldn’t begin with Mom. You won’t win.” He grabbed her by the arm, picked up her coat that she’d slung over the back of a chair, and marched her out the door.
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Zoe smiled at the sight of Cherri coming through the kitchen door, pushing back the loose tendrils of damp hair.
“We had a water fight upstairs.” The damp spots on Cherri’s sweatshirt bore evidence of the girls’
enthusiastic bath time. Her caramel-colored skin flushed from steam and the effort of bath time with three children.
“Thanks for taking over for me.” Zoe spread the filling on the Crab Squares. “The Henderson’s
garden party is at noon tomorrow. I have to get all this stuff done and in the refrigerator.”
“No prob. They were down for the count by the
time I got them tucked in.” Cherri took a bottle of water from one of the refrigerators, one of two in Zoe’s commercial kitchen. One regular and one
stainless commercial fridge graced the wall.
Alongside them stood a matching, doublewide
freezer. Cherri sat on the stool next to her and watched.
“Great.” Zoe laid the finished squares on a
baking sheet covered with parchment paper. A layer of plastic wrap followed. “There, all I have to do is pop these in the oven at the Henderson’s and voila.”
She shoved the baking sheet into the larger fridge, along with the rest of the various appetizers and marinating brisket. “Done for the night.”
“So why in the name of Hera’s Garter Belt does
someone have a garden party the first week of
December?” Cherri swirled the water around in her 46
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bottle.
Zoe laughed. “You can do anything if you have
enough money. They have a big, I mean huge,
solarium at the back of their house. The palm trees are covered in Christmas decorations.” She took one last look in the refrigerator, satisfied with the end product of two day’s work. “It’s a little weird but fun.
The ladies are supposed to wear their summer
dresses and big hats.”
“Cool.” Cherri opened the bottle and took a
drink. “Very cool. So you, going tell me what’s going on with you or what?”
“Going on?” Zoe picked up the dirty dishes, put them in the speed washer, and pulled down the lid.
The loud
whoosh
of the superheated power spray came close to drowning out her words. “There’s
nothing going on, except the season is gearing up.
I’m tired.”
“Oh, no, I’ve known you from the day you
brought those beautiful babies home from the
hospital. You gave me a job when no one else cared if I had to go back to that homeless shelter.”
Zoe saw the concern in Cherri’s eyes. “You’ve
been a blessing, you know that. I mean how often have you hinted for a raise?” She smiled, trying to wipe away the frown on Cherri’s face. “None.”
Cherri waved Zoe’s comment away. “I don’t care
about the money. Besides, you’re changing the
subject.”
Zoe opened the dishwasher. Steam filled the
kitchen with a humid fog. “Like I said, I’m worn out.” “You’ve been quiet. Usually you have the radio blaring while you work. It’s silent as a tomb in here—except for the dishwasher.”
Zoe bit her lip while she unloaded the
dishwasher. “I saw the girls’ father today. He’s getting married again. As a matter of fact, I’ve been 47
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hired to cater the reception.”
Cherri’s dark eyes grew round. “Oh my.”
She held up her hand. “Don’t. I know what
you’re going to say. It’s crazy.” Zoe sighed as she untied her apron and laid it on the counter. “I’ve debated whether to tell him about the girls. Cherri, he hasn’t changed a bit.” Her butt dropped to the top of the stool next to Cherri’s with a thump. “James said I should’ve told Alex all along. But the man was so relieved to get an annulment that I couldn’t envision him as an instant father. Besides, I told him not to communicate with me and I didn’t feel right about contacting him.”
“Great Zeus’ thong, girlfriend, what are you
going to do?”
Zoe laughed. Cherri’s devout Christian
upbringing kept her from taking God’s name in vain, but she had no such compunction against using the Ancient Greek pantheon with gusto. “I haven’t a clue. Play it by ear?”
“You are nuts. Certifiable.”
“I know.” Zoe gave her hair a mad ruffle with
her hands. “He won’t care enough to want anything to do with them. The last thing I want to do is to tell them, ‘Hey you have a daddy, but he doesn’t care about you.’ Like I said, he’ll be relieved I let him off the hook.”
“How do you know? It’s been over five years.”