A Perfect Bride For Christmas by Dyann Love Barr Read Free Book Online Page A

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
    A Perfect Bride for Christmas

    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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    Dyann Love Barr

    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
    A Perfect Bride for Christmas

    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