by Holly Jacobs
“No. I don’t give up. You can add that to the list of my finer qualities.”
“I don’t know how fine it is, but I guess you can come on up and check for bogeymen. That is what my father’s paying the big bucks for, isn’t it? You check, then you’re out of here.”
“Fine. I’ll check for bogeymen, then you’ll tell me why I’m not what you expected, and then I’ll leave.”
“You’re a pest,” she muttered.
“Ah, I think you’re starting to fall for my innumerable charms. I’m no longer a stalker, I’m a pest. That’s definitely a step up.”
“I don’t know that I’ve ever ranked slurs, but you just go ahead and believe that if you want.”
Parker blocked his view as she punched her code into the security system.
“That’s good,” he murmured.
“What?” she asked as they walked up the stairs.
“You didn’t let me see your code as you entered it. No one should know your code.”
“I thought you were supposed to be protecting me,” she said, turning and facing him. “I should be able to trust you, right?”
He took another step up and was suddenly serious as he looked her in the eyes. “You can trust me, Princess. I know that, but you don’t.”
She turned back around and walked up the last couple steps. “I don’t get it.”
“I know I have your best interests at heart, but just because you know your father hired me, you still can’t be totally sure.”
“You’re a very strange man,” she said as she flipped on the living room light.
Jace stood, taking the room in. “Nice.”
“Not exactly palatial, though, right?” she asked.
“No. But that’s better.”
“Yeah?”
Parker looked at the room and tried to imagine seeing it for the first time, tried to imagine it how Jace was seeing it. He seemed drawn to her framed snapshots.
They were the type of pictures the public never saw—pictures of her family in nonroyal situations.
Her mother and father having a faux water fight. Her brother jumping off the diving board into the pool. Her father grilling. Her mother chopping vegetables for a salad.
Looking at those pictures, anyone would think she came from any normal suburban family.
Mixed in were pictures of Cara and Shey from college. Pictures of the lake.
“Seagulls,” he muttered as he moved closer to her impromptu collection. “I was right—you like seagulls. I watched you feed them one day.”
Parker didn’t say anything as Jace continued studying the pictures. “Your family, your friends. I take it you’re the photographer?”
She shrugged. “They’re amateurish at best.”
“They’re good. You have a nice eye. You catch people at their truest level. This one of your parents—I’d never know they ruled a kingdom. They’re just a couple playing, in love.”
“Yes, they’re in love,” Parker murmured.
She looked at that picture of her parents having the fight, laughing like two children, and she knew she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t settle for less than what her mother and father had.
She suddenly felt very uncomfortable having Jace study her pictures, these bits of her life, of the people she cared about.
He’d been right—seeing where someone lived told things about them.
She cleared her throat and he turned away from the collection. He left the photos and took in the rest of the room.
Parker knew he was noting her rather battered upright piano. She smiled as she remembered Cara and Shey, plus a few of their other college friends, maneuvering it up the stairs. Then he spotted her bookshelves lined with books, mainly romances.
Jace moved toward the shelf and started studying the titles.
Again she felt rather naked. “It’s Cara. She keeps sending books home with me.”
Quiet Cara was a romantic. She’d grown up the mainly ignored daughter of parents who were more involved with each other than with her. Books had been her refuge, which is why managing the bookstore was perfect.
“Do you want something to drink?” Giving him something to drink might end his intense perusal. But she hadn’t intended to play hostess. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d invited him.
“No,” he murmured, still looking at her books, “I’m fine.”
“Well, you’ve checked the place out. It’s safe.”
“I checked out the living room. I’d better make sure the rest of the apartment’s safe, as well.”
“Then you’ll leave?” she asked, hoping but not feeling overly confident.
He didn’t answer. Just walked into her small kitchen area. “Small but functional. Do you cook?”
“You mean, does a princess know how to follow directions on the back of a box? After all, I’ve probably been waited on hand and foot all my life, right?”
“I mean, I can’t cook to save my life and I wondered if you could.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “My mother was determined that we should be able to look after ourselves. My brother and I each cooked dinner one night a week. I was Mondays. He was Thursdays.”
“So, what’s your specialty?”
“Steak and mashed potatoes. Plus I make a mean hot-fudge-sundae cake.”
“Maybe I’ll let you cook for me sometime,” he said.
“So, what’s left to see?”
“Just the bedrooms. I’m sure your father expects me to be thorough.”
Before she could protest, he walked to one of the bedroom doors and let himself in.
“Wow.”
He just stood there taking in her guest room.
“Wow,” he said again. “This, uh, isn’t what I expected.”
“More princess preconceptions,” she muttered. “Let me guess—canopies, satin, lots of gilt furniture?”
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t this. This is…”
She shrugged and tried to look nonchalant. “So, I have a thing for Mickey Mouse.”
“I think this has moved past a thing. This is a borderline obsession.”
Parker’s walls were painted a bold, Mickey Mouse red. The comforter on her bed was bright yellow. The furniture was all black. That would have been wild in and of itself, but it was the Mickeys…hundreds of Mickeys. Posters, figurines, stuffed animals.
“Listen, I sort of fell in love with Disney when I was six. I had a birthday party and one of the girls had brought me a Cinderella doll, saying a princess should play with a princess. I took it back to the store—”
“Princesses return gifts?”
“They do when they’re six and don’t want to be a princess. Anyway, I got a stuffed Mickey Mouse instead. I loved that stuffed animal. I lost it on a trip and was inconsolable, so my mom bought me a new one…and so did my father. I got my first figurine for Christmas and…it just sort of snowballed from there. No Disney princesses for me. Just Mickey. When I moved into my own place, I set them up in here because they reminded me of home.”
“Do you sleep in here? I mean I don’t know if I could handle having all those Mickeys watching me.”
Parker had never thought about it, but she laughed as she said, “No, it’s the guest room.”
“Well, if I ever spend the night, I’d rather not sleep in here.”
Parker felt her cheeks warm as she thought about the only other bed in the house. If Jace ever did spend the night and wouldn’t sleep here, there would only be one option. Which is why she hastened to assure him, “You’re not ever spending the night, so it’s a moot point at best.”
“So, show me your room…the one you do sleep in,” he said.
She opened the door across from the guest room and tried to imagine how he saw her room. Functional but warm. Comfortable. Oak furniture, soft gray walls and a darker gray bedspread. A nightstand with a pile of books on it.
Ordinary. That’s how she felt when she was in it.
“Not a Mickey in s
ight.”
There were more photos on the dresser, and Jace moved toward them as if he wanted to study them, as well, but Parker shut the door.
“No bogeymen either,” she said. “So, now your job is done. I’m in for the night and I’ll turn on the security system as soon as you leave, so you can go.”
“No, I can’t. You see, you still haven’t told me how I’m not what you expected.”
“You’re more annoying than I thought a private investigator could be.”
“More annoying than Hoffman was?”
“Much more annoying than Hoffman.”
“That’s it? The only thing you have to say is I’m annoying? I managed to say all sorts of nice things about you.”
“You have a file. I don’t.” She paused a moment, then added, “But you are good with the kids. I don’t know that I’d have thought you’d be as patient as you are, if I’d given any thought, which I haven’t.”
“Amanda and Bobby are going through a rough time right now. I’m doing my best to make up for it. My sister, too. Even though leaving her husband is for the best, it’s hard on her.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Parker asked.
“There’s nothing much to say. She married the wrong guy and was miserable, but she tried to stick it out for the kids’ sake. But he finally cheated one too many times and she left him.”
“And she’s living with you.”
“Just until she gets things straightened out. He’s not fighting the divorce, just fighting about letting her walk away with anything except the kids. That’s what today was about—trying to work out who gets what.”
“I hope it went well.”
“Her lawyer sounded optimistic. She doesn’t want to take her ex through the wringer, but he does have to help support the kids—it’s only fair.”
“But even if he never does, they’ll have you. See, I do know a bit about you, even without a file.”
“I could tell you more,” he said, inching closer to her.
Too close.
Not close enough.
Parker knew this was crazy. Her father had talked to both the college and the Erie press when she’d moved to town. They’d all been great about keeping her true status quiet. But she’d always felt as if she was living a lie, and when a relationship had reached a certain level, she’d felt she’d had to confess.
It had never gone well.
But Jace already knew who she was, what she was.
She was tempted—more tempted than she’d been in a very long time—to close the distance between them and throw herself into his arms.
But years of experience had taught her well, and she held herself back. “I don’t think so. I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“But—”
“Good night, Jace,” she said, cutting off any arguments.
He backed away. “Good night, then, Parker.”
“And don’t call and wake me tomorrow. I have to open the store at seven. I won’t be going anywhere between now and then.”
“I’ll come by and give you a ride in.”
“It’s only a few blocks.”
“But I’ll be heading that way, so you might as well say yes and take the ride.”
“Fine. Be here by six-thirty.”
“Six-thirty. I’ll see you then. Good night, Princess.”
The way he said the word princess didn’t set her teeth on edge this once. He’d whispered it, making it more of a caress than a title. Soft, sweet and maybe, just maybe, a little hot.
“Good night, Jace,” she murmured in return.
As he walked down the stairs, she wanted to call him back, wanted to stay with him just a little longer.
Or maybe a whole lot longer.
And because she didn’t want to let him go, she held herself silent and simply watched him leave before resetting the alarm.
She was safe.
Alone.
Locked in her apartment.
Like some princess of old, locked away from everyone in a guarded tower.
She walked out to her deck and stared into the night and felt more alone than she had in years.
Chapter Five
Jace pulled up to Parker’s the next morning at six-thirty on the nose, as per her instructions.
He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get up on time. The night was an exhausted blur.
He’d gone into his office after he’d left her and tried to get some paperwork done, but thoughts of a certain princess kept intruding. He’d worked until long after he’d exhausted himself, but when he’d finally crawled into bed, he hadn’t slept well…and it was all Parker’s fault.
Parker and dreams of her very kissable lips.
Parker and her collection of Mickey Mouses, not princesses.
Parker and her pictures.
All those small glimpses he’d had into the real woman had seeped into his dreams. Every time a dream ended, he’d wake up and want nothing more than to go back to it.
And because he knew he shouldn’t want to go back to it, he’d fight falling back to sleep, but eventually he’d lose and fall asleep…and dream of Parker again.
He was getting to know Parker, and he liked what he knew. Though he’d had the file for a while and could quote Princess Marie Anna facts and figures backward and forward, he liked this introduction to the real woman.
He’d finally given up on sleep at about five. He’d made some coffee and started on a surprise for Parker, something that would put them on a more equal footing.
Of course, they could never truly be equals. She was a princess, he was a private investigator—her watchdog until she gave in to her father’s demands.
Where was her fiancé? The man was supposed to be convincing her to go home. And the sooner Parker went home, the better it probably would be for Jace. After yesterday, he worried it was going to be easy to forget why he was with her. Easy to ignore the fact that he was her protector. Nothing more.
Speaking of that, he realized that he’d been sitting in the car waiting for her for more than a few minutes. Maybe she didn’t know he was here and he should go get her.
As if on cue, she walked out the door.
“Morning,” she said as she got in the car. “You’re right on time.”
“I’m always on time.”
She looked good.
Darn good.
But he noted faint dark circles under her eyes, indicating she hadn’t slept any better than he had.
Had she spent her night thinking about him, as he’d been thinking about her? Or had her mind been on her supposed fiancé, Tanner?
It didn’t matter, he warned himself sternly. And before he could talk himself out of it, he handed her the manila file folder.
“What’s this?” she asked, turning the folder around in her hand and looking at it.
“I figure I have a file on you, and fair is fair. So I made up one on me. It’s all yours.”
He’d expected her to at least open it up and take a peek, but she merely stuffed the folder into her oversize purse. She didn’t say a word about it. Instead she asked, “So how was your sister this morning?” as he backed out of her driveway.
“Better, I think. The kids are going to spend time with their father, and Shelly’s going to start her résumé so she can begin looking for a job. She married Hal her junior year of college and had the kids a year later, so jumping into the job market is going to be difficult.”
“She’s worked,” Parker said. “Having spent the day with Bobby and Amanda, I guarantee she’s worked.”
He laughed. “You’re right. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant she hasn’t worked outside the house.”
“What kind of job is she looking for?” Parker asked. “If something comes up on the Square, I can let her know.”
“She’s talked about going back and finishing her education degree, but she needs a job before she can even start thinking about that. I don’t think she knows what she
wants right now.”
Apparently Shelly wasn’t the only one, because right now Jace wanted to lean across the car and kiss Parker good-morning. That light brush in the Whacky Shack hadn’t been a kiss but a prelude, and he couldn’t afford the main event. Parker was a client. He couldn’t let himself forget that again. It wouldn’t be good for her or for him.
“I’ll ask around, then,” Parker said, obviously oblivious to his inner turmoil, “and see who’s looking for or will be looking for some help. I got a call this morning. Seems I’m supposed to head over to Snips and Snaps later. I can start there. Pearly said she’d noticed I needed a trim, but truth is, people have been talking about us.”
“Us?”
“Rumors on the Square run rampant, and the current story du jour is about me and a mystery man.”
“Me?” He frowned. “Us?”
“Hey, maybe they’ll think we’re an item—which of course we’re not,” she added. “But maybe I should let the older ladies on the Square think we are. After all, if they think we’re involved, laughable as that may be, they might back off.”
“Back off what?”
“Pearly and her pals seem to think I need to be fixed up, that I don’t date enough,” she explained.
“Do you?” he asked.
Even to his own ears the question sounded sharper than it should.
“Do I what?” Parker asked.
He tried to say, Never mind, forget I asked. Instead the words, “Do you date enough?” slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.
He glanced at Parker, who was staring at him, giving him an odd look he couldn’t quite interpret.
“I’m comfortable with my dating level,” she said in her most princessy, you’ve-overstepped-your-boundaries sort of voice.
“And what level is it?” he asked, even though he knew he shouldn’t, knew Parker wouldn’t appreciate him pushing.
Although he had a file on Parker, there wasn’t much in it about Parker’s dating habits. And he certainly hadn’t noticed any dating since he’d taken her case. He was curious. More than curious—in a totally business sort of way.
“I don’t think I’ll answer that question. You’d probably have to include whatever I said in your report to my father.”
