As he stopped, a lightheaded sensation sank in, and his knees threatened to stop supporting him.
He dug his knuckles into the desk, to hold himself up, and rested his forehead against the crook of her neck.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. He hadn’t gotten off like that in... He didn’t know how long it had been. Even the last time he was with her, it wasn’t so potent.
What was it about this woman that unraveled him?
“I’m going to say something I probably shouldn’t.” Fiona’s breath was hot on his cheek.
He clenched his jaw, grateful she couldn’t see. “What?”
“When you say you’re sorry for what happened, I’m desperate for you to mean it.”
It hurt that she didn’t believe him, but he didn’t blame her. “I only know one way to prove it, and that’s to show you.”
She sighed and leaned her head against his. “Sometimes I think I’m stupid, trusting you a second time after what you did. I keep telling myself this is me giving you the rope to hang yourself with, but... don’t fuck me over.”
The sharp edge lining her pleading gnawed at him.
A rumble rolled through the room, shaking the floor and rattling the windows.
Fiona frowned. “What was that?”
The blare of the fire alarms drowned out the end of her question. Wyatt’s phone beeped, and Reception’s voice came over the line. “This is not a drill. Everyone please evacuate the building immediately.” The woman’s voice quivered.
The hammering in Wyatt’s ears was no longer from exertion. What was going on? The faint smell of smoke drifted into the room, mingling with Fiona’s scent and that of sex.
Wyatt stepped back, discarded his condom, and zipped up, while Fiona stood and straightened her clothes.
“How do I look?” Her question was hurried.
He didn’t know what this was, but urgency sped through his veins. “Like you didn’t just get pinned to a desk and fucked.”
“Good.”
They stepped into the hallway and the rush of people heading for exits. No one knew what had happened, but tension crackled through the air.
Wyatt had a sinkingly bad feeling about this.
CHAPTER TEN
PARKER SAT AT THE BAR in a local microbrewery. A baseball game played on the TV on the wall, and he watched without registering what was going on.
He should be filming today. Or scouting places to film. Or editing. Something. Fiona’s offhanded comments from the other day—her observation that his voice had changed on camera—rolled in his head.
Then there were Wyatt’s words, that Parker wouldn’t be happy with the status quo of a regular relationship. The bastard shouldn’t be under Parker’s skin, but he was.
Why wasn’t he more jealous about this agreement with Wyatt? Instead, each time he came back it, expecting envy over having to share Fiona, anticipation flooded him.
Seeing the world, filming and sharing the experiences with his audience, was supposed to be fun. For a long time, it had been. For the last couple of months, it felt like he’d lost sight of all of that. Too many rules. Too many guidelines. Not enough freedom.
Was bringing Wyatt into their relationship a defiance of that, or the first step toward fixing things?
Logic that sounded a lot like Nick warred with Parker’s instinct.
“Who’s winning?” A male voice jarred him from questions with no answers.
Parker looked to his side, to see who sat next to him. The man was probably a few years older—closer to Wyatt’s age—striking, with a scruff of light beard and mussed blond hair.
“I’m sorry—what?” Parker asked.
Mr. Handsome nodded at the TV. “Who’s winning?”
“Uh... The home team?”
The guy chuckled. “I’m not much of a fan, so I wouldn’t know the difference, but the way you were staring at it, I figured you must be into the game.”
“It was in my line of sight.” Parker was grateful for the excuse to climb out of his own head.
“I know how that works. Mind if I join your staring off into space?”
“I think I’m done with that for now.”
“Devin.” The man extended his hand.
Parker shook it. “Parker.”
“I know.” Devin ducked his head. “Not to be all creepy stalker—I’m a fan of your show.”
“Oh yeah?” Words Parker liked hearing on most days, but were an extra boost right now.
“I saw you over here, alone, and I had to find out if you were as friendly in person.”
“What’s the verdict?”
“Too soon to tell.” Devin grinned.
Parker couldn’t have asked for better, more low-key company. There was no expectation here. No burning questions raised. “It’s always nice to meet a fan. Join me for a drink?”
“Only if it’s Coke. I’m on my lunch break.” Devin had a plate of fries and a bowl of soup in front of him.
Parker must have really been in another place, to not have seen him sit and be served. “At ten thirty in the morning?”
“Says the man knocking back a bottle of amber ale. And technically, it’s almost eleven. I work at the shipping building, so I start early. Lunch early.”
Get off early. Parker expected the words and was relieved not to hear them. Not that he’d mind this guy hitting on him, but it was nice to have a conversation that wasn’t raw aggression with the guy trying to fuck his girlfriend.
Speaking of Wyatt... It was a bit of a coincidence Devin worked at the same place. But in a town this size, a decent percentage of people probably did.
Parker was curious, though. “Do you know Wyatt Lindberg?”
Devin covered his mouth and dropped his gaze. “Of course. That is... not personally, but everyone knows him. He’s the Senior Vice President of Sales and Marketing. Have you worked with him?”
Parker shook his head. He wasn’t going to give away too much info, especially if it led back to Fiona. “I had a friend who pitched him something. A vendor.”
“Did you meet him?”
Parker gave a noncommittal shrug. “Why?”
“I’ve always wondered if he was as much larger than life in person as he seems.”
Was Devin blushing? Did everyone have a crush on Wyatt? Okay, so Parker might be exaggerating a little. “He’s a salesman and the boss. I assume he has presence.”
“Right? He’s so sexy. Sorry. That’s probably inappropriate.”
So much for getting Wyatt off Parker’s mind. “It’s okay. Everyone’s got a type.”
“What’s yours?” Devin asked.
“I’m versatile.” It might be time to wrap this up. Parker looked around, thinking of a polite way to make his exit. His gaze fell on the TV.
The game was gone, replaced with a Breaking News banner. The shipping building was on the screen, next to the anchor. Smoke billowed from the unit the camera was focused on.
Parker grabbed the remote from the counter and turned up the sound.
“...an explosion rocked the shipping center this morning—”
“Christ.” Devin pushed back so quickly, his stool scraped against the tile. “I need to check in. Make sure my co-workers are all right.”
“Yeah.” Parker knew the feeling. The gnawing in his gut wouldn’t go away. He dialed Fiona. At the same time he scanned the evacuated crowds on the TV, searching for her face.
FIONA STOOD SEVERAL feet back from anyone else. Her primary contact was exchanging information with colleagues, though no one really knew what was going on. The ripple of rumor running through the pockets of people outside was that a package had exploded, and the bomb squad was currently checking to make sure it was the only one.
Two people had mild injuries, but no one else had been hurt, that she’d heard. The entire thing made her ill. Why would someone mail a bomb?
She hugged herself. What should she be doing? She’d rather be talking
to Wyatt, but for appearances’ sake that seemed like a bad idea. Besides, he was on the phone with his home office, exchanging information like everyone else.
Her phone rang, and she reached for it, grateful for the distraction. When she saw Parker’s name and face on the screen, guilt whispered inside. “Hey,” she answered.
“Red. I saw the building on the news. Are you all right?” Panic filled his question.
She should have called him right away, instead of milling around like a lost kitten. “I’m fine. We weren’t anywhere near the explosion.”
“Thank God.”
His concern warmed her, and cemented in her mind how lucky she was to have him in her life. “We’re not going to get any more work done today,” she said. “As soon as the police give us the all clear, one way or the other, I’ll head back to the hotel.”
“Good. Stay safe, and I love you.”
“I love you too.” She disconnected. Such simple words, and every time he said them, a warm glow spread through her.
Fiona lost track of how long she waited before everyone was allowed to either go back to work or home. Her stomach was growling, and she’d run out of free lives on every game she could access from her phone.
She sent Wyatt a, Thanks for your time. No reason to give him something he had to explain if anyone was looking over his shoulder. He glanced in her direction and gave her the briefest of smiles, before turning back to the person he was talking to.
Parker greeted Fiona seconds after she walked into their room. He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. She gasped against his lips.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said when he broke away. “Is everyone else okay?”
“You know as much as me, from what I read on the news sites. No serious injuries.”
“Good. Come lose the work clothes.” He grasped her fingers and tugged her into the bedroom.
She stepped out of her shoes and left them by the door. As Parker trailed his fingers down the front of her blouse, similarly to what Wyatt had done just a few hours ago, the guilt returned. She should have thought about it sooner, but she let herself get wrapped up in the moment.
Just because she and Parker agreed to experiment with Wyatt, didn’t mean it was okay for her to do it alone.
Parker tugged the sides of her blouse aside. A frown ghosted over his face, and he brushed a touch across the fresh bite mark on her breast. “That’s new.”
“I’m—” She covered his hand with hers. She was what? Sorry? Not that it happened. But she would be, if it upset him. “Are you mad?”
He drew tiny circles along her skin with his thumb, rather than pulling away. “I should be. I pictured this as being both of us. Especially at first.”
“I should have thought about—”
He kissed her lightly, but it was enough to silence the thought. “It’s okay.”
“It is?” Why was she questioning him?
He nodded. “I didn’t realize it until I saw this.” He brushed his lips over the bite mark. “I need to either be all right with what you’re doing or not. I can’t keep fluctuating. And I landed on I am. I keep thinking about the argument with Nick and how much his view bothered me. How much I don’t agree with what he said. I should take issue by this thing with Wyatt. But the longer I think about it, the more I’m good with things. Let’s have fun with it.”
“You were part of the fantasy.” She wasn’t certainif she should mention that or not, but she’d rather be open about everything.
His smirk was worth the confession. “How’d that go?”
“Well enough that I hope you’re part of the reality next time. I have a favor to ask, though, despite having used up so many by now. If you hook up with him or anyone else, without me there, I want details.” As she made the request, desire flowed through her. It was a different type of voyeurism, and it was delicious.
Parker cupped her breast and squeezed, pinching her nipple through the lace of her bra. “I’ll agree to that,” he said. “For now, will you settle for something ordinary, like a shower? I’ll help get you clean.”
“Somehow I doubt the second part, but okay.”
Fiona grabbed her phone when it rang, and frowned at the unfamiliar number. “Hello?”
“May I speak with Fiona Walters?” The man’s tone was cool and professional.
Her gut twisted at the unfamiliar voice. It was nothing. She used this line for work, so it was probably someone from the shipping company. “This is she.”
“This is Detective Marshall. We’re talking to several people who were at the shipping company today, and I’m wondering if you could come down and answer some questions for us.”
“Oh.” What was she supposed to say? No?
“You’re not a suspect. These are routine investigation questions.” His tone softened.
“Of course. I understand. I can be there in about half an hour. Should I ask for anyone?”
This was real life, not a TV show made to be all suspense and no reality, so when he said this was routine, there was nothing for her to worry about. Right?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FIONA SAT ACROSS FROM Detective Marshall in an exam room. He warned her that, even though she wasn’t a suspect, if she became one at any point, anything she said today would be on record.
She didn’t like the sound of that.
“I’m not saying I think you will be. I’m simply required to warn you of that fact.” His voice was kind.
She was only mildly reassured. “This whole thing is horrible, so whatever I can do to help...”
He slid a flat, sealed plastic bag across the table. “This is what we found near the explosion site.”
It was one of her business cards. Seeing the same design she looked at every day, but half-burned, made her stomach churn. “What do you need to know about it?”
“Is that your handwriting on the back?”
She flipped it over, and the sickness building inside surged in her throat. It said Parker, next to his phone number. “No.” She recognized the block of the a, though, and the hook on the 2s.
“Do you know whose handwriting it is?” Detective Marshall asked.
She had to be wrong. Remembering incorrectly, because Wyatt always hovered at the back of her mind and this was a stressful situation. There was no way the handwriting matched the business card he’d given her—the one she still had in the front pocket of her carry-on bag.
“I don’t. I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right.” He pushed a notepad toward her. “I’m sorry to ask this, but I need you to rewrite what’s on the card, three times.”
“It’s my boyfriend’s name and phone number. I wouldn’t put that on information I gave to a client.” She did as he asked anyway, and handed the notepad back. Her handwriting didn’t look anything like that on the card.
“Can you tell me who you’ve given these to, recently?”
She tried to keep a barking laugh from slipping out. “I’m traveling for business, and before this, I was involved in pitching our product to this company. I expect I’ve given out fifty or more of these to their people in the past couple of weeks.”
“Did any of them strike you as... off?”
She scowled. “Could you be any more vague?” She wanted to be helpful but had no idea what he was fishing for.
“Someone saw fit to write your boyfriend’s information on your business card. I’m wondering if you have any idea why.”
Fiona scrubbed her face, sighing through her fingers. “He doesn’t have anything to do with my work, and I don’t introduce him to most of my clients.” Except Wyatt. “I was stalked a short while ago, and he was there for large parts of that.”
“I did pull up the records about that incident.” Detective Marshall’s kind tone was back, and the corners of his eyes softened. “Can you tell me in your own words what happened?”
She really didn’t want to. The dreams were mostly gone,
and she was grateful to leave the incident with Tim in the past. “Is it relevant?”
“Probably not. But we’re looking for a bombing suspect and have to examine everything. We’re talking to every person who shipped or was receiving a package that was supposed to be on that truck, and we’re talking to you because of this.” He tapped the card.
“Right.” She took a deep breath and launched into the story.
With each new nudge for details, she was left feeling rawer and more exposed. He never asked why she hadn’t paid attention to the signs, but she wondered how she could have been so stupid to let something like that happen.
By the time the interview ended, she’d been turned inside-out, stomped on, and shoved back into her skin.
She stood when the detective did, and shook his hand.
“I’ll be in touch if we need anything else, but I think we’re done. Thank you for your time,” he said.
She walked to the lobby, numb and feeling like an exposed nerve in one bundle. Parker stood the moment she stepped through the door, and met her, hug her.
She rested her forehead against his chest, wanting to sink into the embrace.
“Should I ask how it went?” His lips moved against the top of her head.
“No. Not here.” She fisted his shirt, needing the foundation to hold onto, to keep from slipping away.
He held her until her grip relaxed, then guided her toward the parking garage. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay.” The sooner they got back to the hotel, the better, so she could fall apart in the pit of reliving what happened with Tim.
Parker drove back to the hotel, not talking and with the radio off. She was as grateful for the silence as she was for the way he let her squeeze his hand tight when he didn’t need it to navigate.
They made it back to their room, and she sank onto the couch. Parker sat next to her and pulled her close. “What can I do?”
“He asked me about Tim. I’ll be okay, but I need it out of my head.” The words came out with more desperation than she intended.
“What will do that?”
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