One Mother Wanted. Jeanne AllanЧитать онлайн книгу.
people thought the two older Lassiter sisters looked alike. They couldn’t be more wrong. Cheyenne was an open book. Allie was a closed book, with only a precious few allowed to peek inside. Once Zane had been privileged to share her innermost thoughts. A privilege he’d stupidly thrown away. Even from across St. Chris’s ballroom, he could see how shuttered her face was, how hidden her thoughts and emotions. If he were a man given to crying, he’d cry now. He could have cried a million times over the past five years. Crying wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Neither would running. He’d stay until Hannah had her cake. Then he’d get the hell out of here. Away from Allie Lassiter.
Jake Norton joined the bridal party and put his arms around Allie and her sister Greeley. Zane had read in the newspaper about Norton and his wife staying on the Lassiter ranch while the movie star filmed a Western in the area. He knew the couple had become close friends with the Lassiters. The knowledge did nothing to stop the jealousy that rocketed through Zane as Allie laughed up at Norton.
He’d been an idiot to come. If only the bride would cut the damned cake. Not that he’d be able to choke any down. Just cut it, so Hannah could have her piece. Then he could leave.
She was so damned beautiful. More beautiful than five years ago. He could almost taste her mouth. His own went dry. Cut the damned cake.
Allie wanted to scream. They’d cut the cake, and everyone had toasted the newlyweds. Brides were supposed to be anxious to leave on their honeymoons. Thomas ought to be chomping at the bit to get Cheyenne to himself. If Cheyenne would throw the darned bouquet, Allie could escape. She had to get out of here.
Out of this clinging blue floral silk dress that had seemed so elegantly simple and classic when she’d put it on earlier. Now the dress felt wrong. Too tight. If he didn’t quit watching her... She couldn’t stand being in the same room with him.
“I assume you know Zane’s here. I just saw him. You okay?” Greeley asked quietly at her side.
Allie turned to her younger sister. “Of course I’m okay,” she said brightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“How would I know? I’m just your half sister.”
“Greeley Lassiter, you are as much my sister as Cheyenne is. You make me furious when you say such stupid things.”
“That’s better than you standing there looking like the sole, dazed survivor of some disaster.”
“I don’t look like that,” Allie said in a low, fierce voice. At Greeley’s skeptical look, she added, “It was a shock, that’s all. I didn’t know Cheyenne had invited him.”
“I thought I detected the hand of our resident meddler. Want me to tell him to take a hike?”
“Worth talked to him.”
“And told him to leave?”
“Obviously not. They seemed to be just talking. They didn’t shake hands or anything.”
“I should hope not.”
Allie gave her sister a quick squeeze of appreciation for her loyalty. “No, Cheyenne is right. If he no longer matters to me, he and Worth should be able to resume their friendship. If Worth wants such a shallow friend.”
“If,” Greeley emphasized the word, “he no longer matters?”
“He doesn’t matter,” Allie said firmly. He couldn’t matter. Their love had died. Not died, been trampled in the dirt. Nothing remained. Nothing. She forced a smile to her face. “Cheyenne’s finally ready to throw the bouquet. You know she’ll aim it over here. You catch it, because I’m not going to.”
Sent on its way with teasing comments, the bridal bouquet arced through the air. Directly toward Allie and Greeley. Allie stepped to her right at the exact second Greeley stepped to her left. The bouquet sailed between them.
“Look, Daddy! The lady threw flowers to me.”
One look at Cheyenne’s dismayed face confirmed Allie’s suspicions about her older sister’s intent.
“I’m not getting involved in this.” Greeley strolled away before Allie could ask what she meant.
“Are mine,” came a determined voice from behind Allie.
She turned.
Zane crouched inches away, speaking to his daughter. The little girl clutched the bridal bouquet to her chest and shook her head. “Mine.”
He held out his hand. “No, they’re not. The flowers are for a big girl.”
“I’m a big girl.”
“They’re for a lady,” Zane amended. “Give these back to the bride, and we’ll go to a flower shop and buy you some flowers.”
“I caught ’em.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
The little girl’s mouth wobbled. “I want ’em.”
Allie wanted to smile indulgently like everyone else watching the scene. The high color on Zane’s face told her he knew he and his daughter were the focus of attention. Not that that would stop him from doing what he thought was right. Zane Peters prided himself on doing what he thought was right.
He wrested the flowers from his daughter’s grasp and awkwardly wiped a tear from her cheek. “We can buy yellow flowers. You like yellow flowers.” Desperation edged his voice.
Red curls bounced as the little girl shook her head. “Don’t want yellow flowers. Want these.”
Without stopping to think, Allie leaned over and jerked the bouquet from Zane. Turning her back to him, she offered the flowers to the little girl. “Here. You caught them.”
The little girl put her hands behind her back. “Daddy said I can’t have ’em.”
Allie wanted nothing to do with Zane’s daughter, but the girl had caught the bouquet and should be allowed to keep it. Allie knelt on the floor. “Your daddy is a man, and men know nothing about weddings. Whoever catches the bouquet keeps it. It’s a rule, and I know your daddy doesn’t believe in breaking rules.” Allie coated the last sentence with deliberate mockery.
The little girl looked at the floor and shook her head. Her hands stayed behind her. “Daddy said flowers for a big lady.”
“I’m a big lady. May I have the flowers?”
The little girl hesitated, then nodded sadly.
“All right, if they are my flowers, I may give them to someone else, and I’m giving them to you.” Allie held out the bouquet, proving she could act with dignity and fairness, no matter the circumstances.
The little girl started to bring her hands forward, stopped and looked past Allie in her father’s direction. Then, smiling shyly, she accepted the bouquet and buried her face in a large lily. “Pretty.” She held the bouquet to Allie’s face. “Smell.”
Hoping compliance would make the child and her father go away, Allie sniffed.
“What do you say, Hannah?” Zane prompted.
“Thank you.”
Hannah. Unbelievable pain slashed through Allie. The child had been named after his grandmother. They’d planned to name their first daughter Hannah. This little girl could be, should be, Allie’s daughter. Allie’s throat ached with the effort not to cry, then hot, burning anger replaced the pain. He’d taken “their name” and used it for that woman’s daughter. Not that it mattered anymore. He didn’t matter anymore.
“Allie, aren’t you ready yet?”
Davy’s impatient voice rescued her. She smiled gratefully at him. “Ready and raring to go.”
The child’s hand tugging