A Christmas to Believe In (9 page)

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.