She smiled and sipped. “I think I’ll stay right here. Besides, your mother is picking out a bridesmaid’s dress for me.”

“There’s not going to be a wedding.”

“She wants to have it in your garden. And you should see the dress she plans to wear. It’s barely there and fire-engine red. Sorry, English, but I think there’s going to be a wedding. And if your mother has her way, you’ll be wearing a kilt.” She smiled and hung up the phone. It was nice to get one over on him for a change.

Mags came back with a one-shouldered, ivory, beaded mini dress. “What about this, Allie, love?”

“I thought you were going with the red dress, Mags.”

“Not for me, for you, dearest.” Then she got a thoughtful look on her face. “Although, it is my size.” She walked back over to the mirror and held it in front of her. She sighed. “No, this is for you. I’ll get one in blue.”

***

At two o’clock, Mags was still going strong and showed no signs of letting up. She actually liked trying on clothes. Allie left her in the capable hands of the saleswoman and let Simmons drive her to her home.

When he held the car door open for her, he tipped his head. “Just let me know when you’re ready to be picked up.”

Allie let herself into the house and glanced at the cluttered living room—clothes, shoes, newspapers covered every surface along with a fine coating of dust. In the kitchen, dirty pans littered the sink, there were cracked eggshells on the counter, and two bags of trash sat next to the back door.

Seriously? Her dad couldn’t even take out the trash?

Trevor was right. Her family was fully capable of managing this stuff without her. Her dad especially. Allie wasn’t their damned maid, and she wasn’t even living at home anymore. Instead of clearing out the living room clutter, she would make a to-do list. But she wouldn’t be able to function, thinking about the germs breeding in the kitchen.

With a sigh, she kicked off her shoes and began loading the dishwasher. She had just poured the dish soap when she heard the front door bang.

Allie grabbed a hand towel and strode to the living room, a smile on her face. Brynn made it home after all. But the smile faded when she saw it wasn’t Brynn but Monica. She stood with her back to Allie, facing a guy in his mid-twenties. He rubbed his hands up and down Monica’s ass and squeezed it like he was checking a ripe tomato.

“What the hell, Monica?”

Her sister jumped and spun around. The guy—Brad?—smirked.

Monica’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here, Allie? Are you checking up on me?” She sounded defensive. Her clothes were wrinkled and she looked pale.

Allie narrowed her eyes. “That would be a little hard to do, considering you’ve been gone for days and haven’t bothered to let anyone know where you were.”

Monica stepped toward her. “I don’t have to check in with you. You’re not the boss of me.”

Allie crossed her arms. “Really? That’s all you can come up with, ‘you’re not the boss of me’? How about acting like the responsible adult you think you are and letting Dad know you’re still alive?”

Monica moved past her, slammed into Allie’s shoulder, and stormed to her room. Allie glanced at Brad. What an asshole. She supposed he was good-looking in a just-got-out-of-jail kind of way, with his longish blond hair and darker stubble.

He gave her the once-over, his eyes lingering on her breasts. “You, uh, must be the big sister.”

“Yeah. And you must be the dick Monica’s boning.”

That wiped the smirk right off his face. “She said you were a bitch.”

“Get out.”

He crossed his arms. “Monica invited me in. According to her, you don’t live here anymore. So, I have a right to be here.”

Allie walked over to the phone and punched in 911. “Yeah, I’d like to report an intruder.”

He sneered at her before turning to slam out the door.

She apologized to the dispatcher and hung up before making her way to the girls’ room. Standing in the doorway, Allie watched Monica throw clothes into a duffel bag.

“Don’t try and stop me, Allie.”

“Is that possible? Or are you so far up Brad’s ass, you can’t even listen to reason?”

Monica paused, a T-shirt in her hand. “You know, when you came home from school, everyone was so grateful—Allie the Savior, taking care of the family. And you love it don’t you? You love that Dad lets you make all the decisions. Makes you feel important. Well, you’re not making my decisions, and if you try and stop me, I’ll kick your ass.”

Allie drew herself up, placed her hands on her hips. “You and who else?” Their eyes locked in a contest of wills. Monica backed down first and shoved the T-shirt in the bag.

“Are you even going to let Dad know where you’ll be staying?” Allie asked.

“It’s nobody’s business. Besides, I don’t want you guys coming over and nagging me to move back home.” She crammed a handful of underwear in the bag.

Allie shook her head. “You’re making the biggest mistake of your life, Mon. Don’t do this—at least not until you graduate. You’re so close to getting that diploma.”

Monica zipped the bag and slung it over her shoulder. “I love him. I know you don’t get that, because you’re too busy being perfect to have a life, but we love each other. I want to be with him.”

Allie took a deep breath and willed away the tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Yelling at her sister wasn’t a good strategy. Allie walked into the room and tentatively touched Monica’s hand. “Fine, but stay here until graduation. You only have one more month.”

Monica shrugged her off. “You don’t understand. I don’t care about school. I have to be with him. I want him all the time, like I’ll die without him. He wants me to move in with him and that’s what I want too.” She walked out of the room and headed toward the front door.

Allie followed her. Her sister was screwing up her life and there was absolutely nothing Allie could do to stop it.

Monica gripped the door handle but didn’t look back. “Tell Dad I’ll call in a few days.”

And then she was gone.

Chapter 12

When Simmons picked Allie up, she climbed into the backseat of the limo with Mags, who rattled on about wedding details. Allie nodded, pretending to listen and mulled over the situation with Monica. She’d made a mistake letting Monica provoke her. Maybe if Allie’d been less confrontational, she could have at least learned Brad’s last name.

When they stepped into the house, Frances stood in the foyer, waiting for them. She organized Simmons and Arnold as they schlepped the bags up the stairs, Mags trailing behind, yakking all the way.

Allie walked down the hall to Trevor’s office. She hadn’t seen him all day and she missed him—the biting wit, the too-handsome face, the sexual innuendo. She couldn’t blame it on the champagne, since she’d had none. It must have been the toe-curling sex.

She softly knocked on the door and stuck her head inside. Trevor, seated behind his desk, glanced over and motioned her forward. A dark-haired man in a suit sat across from him.

Trevor rose and the man stood as well, buttoning his jacket. “Get back to me on the condos, Alex. By the way, this is Miss Campbell.” He gestured to her. “Miss Campbell, Alex Pade, my attorney.”

Alex shook her hand. “Pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you.” She stepped toward the center of the room and looked out at the garden. She’d never get any work done with a view like that.

Trevor followed Alex to the door and locked it, then strolled toward her slowly, with a predatory gleam in his eye. “You hung up on me, Allison.”

Her heart began to pound. He was unpredictable when he was in this kind of mood. A mixture of wariness and excitement filled her. And he’d called her Allison in that deep, sexy voice. That made her stomach flutter. “You were in denial about the wedding. I assure you, your mother plans to go through with it.”