by Tiffany Snow
“No kidding.”
“Go out with me Saturday night and I’ll tell you all about it.” His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as a slow grin lifted his lips.
Damn. It should be against the law for a man who could be that giant of an asshole to also look that good.
I snorted, glancing away from him to where the technicians were rubbing some kind of swab over Parker’s hands.
“Trying to bribe me with gossip won’t work,” I lied. Who was I kidding? I wanted to know about him and Parker more than I wanted Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs at Easter, which was a whole helluva lot. I loved those things. And the hearts at Valentine’s Day, and the pumpkins at Halloween, and the trees at Christmas…
“Sure it will,” he said. “C’mon, it’s just dinner.”
“It’s already Thursday,” I stalled. “Maybe I have plans for Saturday.”
“I’m worth breaking them,” he said, which only confirmed that his arrogance knew no limit. He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I can do things with my tongue that’ll leave you begging for more.”
Ho-ly shit.
That sent a hot flash through me, but I wasn’t about to let him know. “Does that line actually work on anyone?” I sneered.
“You tell me.”
Damn it all to hell. I had the spine of a jellyfish. I stepped into his personal space. “Fine,” I said. “I will come to dinner with you. But that’s all.” I poked his chest for emphasis. Lord, but his muscles were lick-worthy. “No more…indecent insinuations or…or propositions.” Though that line about his tongue would have a starring role in my fantasies tonight.
Ryker grinned outright. “I like how you talk,” he said. “Indecent proposition. Sounds right up my alley.”
“Don’t you have a murder to investigate or something?” I reminded him. Not to mention that it felt a little uncouth to be flirting with someone when a man was dead. I hadn’t known Mr. Hinton other than in passing, but still.
“Right after we get your hands swabbed, sweetheart.”
I stared at him. “Tell me you’re joking.”
His grin just widened. “I never joke about my job. Let’s go.”
I allowed him to lead me to the CSI people, who did their job quickly and efficiently. When I was through, Ryker was occupied with more non-uniformed detectives who’d arrived. Since no one else seemed to want or need me for anything, I headed back to Parker’s office. The boxes of files still left to catalogue stared accusingly at me.
“Not tonight, fellas,” I said to them. “I’ll just have to come in early tomorrow.” Joy. I glanced at my watch. It was almost one o’clock. So early would be…in only a few hours. I sighed.
Crouching down on the floor, I started picking up my stacks. No way could I leave Parker’s office like this and I was too tired to finish scanning the ones I’d already sorted.
“Don’t worry about those tonight,” Parker said. I turned to see him striding through the door. “It can wait.”
“I was just picking these up,” I said, reaching for another pile. “I’ll finish in the morning.”
“Leave it.”
The order was curt and I knew that tone. Without another word, I set aside the pile and got to my feet. I grabbed my purse and scarf from the couch.
“I’ll just see you in the morning then.” I turned to go.
“Wait. It’s late. I’ll drive you home.”
He was grabbing his suit jacket and shrugging it on, so he missed my jaw hitting the floor.
Parker had never driven me home. Ever. It didn’t matter how late we worked. I’d grab a cab if I was too tired to wait for the bus.
“Um, okay. Thanks,” I said once I’d recovered from my surprise.
By now, building security had called in more people and I saw the head of security talking with Ryker on our way out. I wondered if the person who’d shot Hinton had worked for KLP. The security for a company like this was heavy duty. It couldn’t have been easy for someone to break in.
Ryker glanced at Parker and me as we walked by toward the elevators. He didn’t smile and I decided I really didn’t like Parker and Ryker in the same room together. Unnerved, I looked away as the elevator dinged and Parker’s hand pressed lightly on my lower back to guide me inside.
I was slightly uncomfortable as we walked through the parking garage to Parker’s BMW. This was a new situation for me, which made me nervous, so I started babbling.
“What an awful thing, right?” I asked rhetorically. My heels clacking on the concrete sounded really loud in the nearly deserted garage. “I guess they’ll be watching the security footage and checking the card scans. Wouldn’t it be awful if it was an employee? Did he fire anyone lately? Maybe it was an angry customer, though I don’t know how they would’ve gotten in the building at that hour. I’ve had issues getting inside during off hours and I work here. I wonder if he was married—”
“He wasn’t.”
Parker’s interruption cut off my nervous chatter and I waited while he opened the passenger door for me.
Parker owned a high-end BMW that wasn’t quite a year old. It was shiny, metallic black with a black leather interior, fully loaded with all the fun options, and had cost well into six figures. And the reason I knew all this was because I’d been the one to pay the invoice from Parker’s bank account.
Most of his bills were set to auto-pay, but the rest I handled for him. A personal accountant would probably do the same thing, but it had been a duty that had begun gradually soon after I’d started and now was just something I did as part of my job.
So I was the only one who knew exactly how much his rent was, how much he spent on the suits that fit him so well, and when he was on the ins or outs with his current arm candy—depending on whether he was spending money at the florist…or the jeweler. The latter didn’t happen very often because, frankly, none of the women Parker dated seemed to last very long. He worked so much, I assumed it precluded any kind of serious relationship.
Not that I was complaining.
I slid into the front passenger seat and Parker shut the door. I took a deep whiff while he rounded the car. Leather and expensive cologne. The stuff fantasies were made of.
Parker slid behind the wheel after depositing his briefcase and jacket in the backseat. The engine came to life with a gentle purr and soon we were exiting the garage.
“You should turn left up there,” I said.
“I know,” Parker replied, glancing at me, then back to the road. “I know where you live, Sage.”
He did? Since when? I couldn’t remember ever telling him where I lived or why he’d have cause to know it. This new information kept me quiet…for about a mile or two…then my nerves started acting up again. We were really close, like in proximity to each other, and it was nice. Too nice.
“So thanks a lot for taking me home,” I said too brightly. “Usually, I’d just take the bus, but at this time of night, probably not a great idea. The driver in the mornings knows me, and he waits for me because I’m almost always running late. I gave him a Christmas gift last year—a box of fudge I’d made. I love fudge. I make a ton of it every year. I brought some in to the office, too, remember? Jane in HR asked me for my recipe.”
Nerves were making me babble and although Parker didn’t say anything, I saw the corner of his mouth lift slightly in the low light from the dash.
Deciding to get back to business rather than continue to discuss inanities such as my Christmas baking habits, I said, “I’ll make sure to get those files done first thing tomorrow.” Then I rethought that. “Though I guess it’s already tomorrow, right? I mean, today is tomorrow, so I mean I’ll get those done today…” My voice trailed off. God, I sounded like such an idiot. In my defense, I’d been up since six a.m. Okay, six-thirty.
“Tonight was rough,” Parker said. “And it’s late. If you want to take tomorrow off, you can.”
I thought about that. He was offering me a day off? No, wait, not really. I was sure I’d hav
e to take a sick day. This wasn’t a freebie.
“Are you taking tomorrow off?” I asked instead, because I already knew the answer to that. Parker rarely took time off, which is why I wasn’t surprised to see him shake his head.
“No.”
“Then neither will I.”
“Your loyalty is…appreciated,” Parker said. “Thanks for not telling Ryker about the gun.”
“Sure,” I said. “I mean, it’s none of my business why you keep a gun in your closet.” I waited, hoping he’d enlighten me, but no such luck. “You said something about what Ryker told you earlier today…?” I prodded.
Parker glanced at me, then back to the road.
“He’s investigating the murder of an informant, a prostitute, who said she had information for him on a drug supplier. Unfortunately, she was dead when he arrived. And unfortunately for me, she was holding my business card when she died.”
I gaped. “Your card? But why would—” And I stopped. I probably didn’t want to go there.
He seemed to read my thoughts. “I wasn’t a customer,” he said dryly.
“I didn’t think you were,” I lied.
“Sure you did.”
Now my face was so hot, I was glad the inside of the car was dark enough he couldn’t see how red I had to be.
“I’m sorry—” I began.
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s just that your bills had been absent florists, jewelers, or expensive dinners out lately so I’d just assumed.” Yeah, I should really stop there. I covered my burning face with my hands, vowing not to say another word. Not that it mattered if he was dating anyone. Sex was freely available to a man like him and I knew he had his share of one-night stands.
“No, I’m not dating anyone,” he said.
Confirmation that Parker Anderson was decidedly available had me peeking through my fingers.
“Are you?” he asked.
I dropped my hands to my lap, my mouth suddenly dry. “I told you I got dumped,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but then you had dinner with Ryker tonight.”
And I was having dinner with him again tomorrow night, I thought, but didn’t say.
“I don’t think having dinner with someone necessarily says you’re dating them,” I said, evading his question.
“Then what does it say?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…dinner.”
Parker glanced at me, but I looked away, afraid he might see too much in my eyes. I was too tired to be on my toes with him, and didn’t want to argue about Ryker. It was quiet until we arrived at my apartment.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, my hand on the door handle, but he was already turning off the car.
“It’s late. I’ll walk you up.”
Okay then.
My apartment was on the top floor of a building that included a doorman, though Harvey wasn’t manning the door this late. My key let me in to the lobby and though we both knew it was unnecessary for Parker to take me farther, neither of us said anything as we stepped into the elevator.
“This is a nice place,” he observed.
I stiffened, immediately self-conscious. Parker wasn’t an idiot and he had to know that I couldn’t afford a place like this on my own, even though a hefty chunk of my salary went to rent. My father had been adamant about me staying in a place he felt was nice enough and secure enough for his “baby girl.” It had been easier to give in, especially when my mother got so upset when Dad and I argued.
“Do you have roommates?” Parker asked.
I shook my head. “No. It’s just me.”
He nodded and I could see the wheels turning inside his head.
Seven flights later, we exited the elevator and I walked to the end of the hall, Parker at my heels. This felt like déjà vu, only not with Parker. I’d taken this walk with dates too many times not to feel the similarity. Inviting a man to my apartment after a date really meant just one thing, and of course that was all I could think about as I tried to unlock my door. But my hands weren’t cooperating, nerves and lack of sleep getting to me.
“Here, let me,” Parker said, taking the keys from me and unlocking the door. I tried to ignore the brush of his fingers against mine.
He pushed it open and I stepped inside. I had absolutely no clue what to do. I mean, yes, if it had been a date, I’d have known exactly what to do next. Depending on how badly I wanted to jump his bones, it was either “Hey, want a drink?” or “Here, let me help you with that belt.” Since I didn’t want to be fired on the spot, I settled for Option A.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked.
“It’s late,” Parker said. “I’m sure you’re tired.”
Parker Anderson was in my apartment. That alone would keep me awake and fantasizing for hours.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, flinching inwardly at the anxious-to-please note in my voice. Hello, obvious.
“Then…a drink would be nice,” he said. “It’s been a while since I’ve been shot at.”
Oh yeah, let’s bring that up again. I turned away with a shudder, wishing I hadn’t known how close he’d come to getting hit tonight. Looked like I’d be having a drink, too.
“I have wine or bourbon,” I offered. “Beer, too, if you’d rather.”
“A shot of bourbon sounds good.”
I set aside my purse and scarf and reached up to take two glasses from the cupboard. I briefly thought about undoing two buttons on my blouse again, but discarded the idea. That would be tacky and way too obvious. After adding some ice to the glasses, I poured a hefty shot in both, then handed one to Parker, who’d sat on my sofa. After a brief hesitation and deliberation, I sat there, too. Not too close as in right next to him, but not farthest away either. Something in the middle.
I was really glad I’d taken time to pick up my dirty clothes that had been strewn about this morning. I loved my apartment and kept it pretty picked up. My mother had wanted to send her cleaning lady out, but I’d drawn the line at that. I’d decorated in peach and earth tones. I liked natural wood, so a lot of it was handmade pieces I’d picked out myself, some bowls carved from tree roots, a few pieces of African art, and vases filled with branches.
Parker took a drink of the bourbon, his Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. Without his jacket and tie, the top button undone on his shirt, he looked less intimidating, though not by much.
He was a gorgeous man and when he dressed to the nines, he was more than enough to make a woman weak in the knees. Casual like this, his hair in slight disarray from pushing his fingers through it, a five o’clock shadow darkening his jaw, the muscles in this forearms flexing as he again raised the glass to his lips…the words panty dropping came to mind.
I sighed a little, realized I was staring, and quickly looked away. I took a steadying sip of the liquor, the cool liquid a contrast to the warmth it produced as it slid down my throat. I felt guilty and a bit embarrassed at the thoughts of Parker swirling in my head, but I blamed it on being tired…and the embrace we’d shared earlier. It had felt good, really good, to have his arms around me.
The thought made me frown. True, I’d always been attracted to Parker, but I needed to quit thinking like that. We had a professional relationship and that was all, no matter how sexy I found his controlling, power-wielding ways, which in itself felt like a reaction I shouldn’t have to those particular traits. He was also incredibly smart, another weakness of mine when it came to men.
“You’re probably wondering how Ryker and I know each other,” Parker said.
I glanced up at him, my eyebrows lifting. I hadn’t expected him to bring it up again, but he wasn’t looking at me, at least, not at my face. His gaze seemed to be on my foot, dangling in midair from my crossed legs. The sunny yellow of my peep-toe pump cheered me a bit, as it always did. Parker’s gaze slid up my leg, following my torso, until he met my eyes.
I cleared my throat delicately, trying to ignore that once
-over. “The thought had crossed my mind.”
His lips lifted slightly, giving me that pleased feeling I always got when I said something that amused him.
Parker leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his spread knees with the glass cradled in both hands, his gaze resting on the amber liquid in its depths.
“We grew up together, he and I,” he began. “Met when we were just kids. We were thirteen, maybe fourteen. We lived in different parts of town, though. I was fortunate; my family was well-off and we lived in a good neighborhood. Ryker wasn’t as lucky. He lived alone with his mom. His dad had run off and left them when he was five.”
A pang of sympathy struck me. I’d been blessed with two parents who’d been happily married for over thirty years, but families like that weren’t nearly as common anymore.
“How did you meet?” I asked. It sounded like Parker and Ryker had been on opposite sides of the proverbial tracks.
“He was one of those kids who lived in a bad part of town that they let attend a better school somewhere else. It was my school. He stood out, of course. The kids there were all wealthy and it was obvious he wasn’t. I wanted to get to know him, somebody so different from anyone else I’d known, but he wasn’t into making friends.
“Then one afternoon, I helped him out of a fight,” he continued. “We were inseparable from then on, the poor little rich kid and the rebellious loner. Odd, looking back on it now, but we were kids. We fascinated each other.”
I could picture it in my head, two scrawny teenage boys. One in worn clothes that were hand-me-downs, the other in pristine name brands, eyeing each other with suspicion and yet wanting to know more.
“So you’re friends,” I prompted when Parker didn’t continue.
“We were friends,” he corrected. “Past tense. Long story short, we joined the Marines together, even got assigned to the same platoon, but our friendship didn’t last past our discharge.”
Curiosity raged. Parker had been in the Marines? I’d had no idea. “Why not?”
“Life kind of got in the way,” Parker mused, “and that’s an even longer story.” Lifting the glass to his lips, he drank the rest in one long swallow, set it on the coffee table, and stood. “I should be going,” he said. “I just thought, after today, you had a right to know that while there’s a past between Ryker and me, it didn’t end happily. Be wary of him, if he comes around you anymore.”
