Play to Win

by Tiffany Snow

  He reached for my hand and I let him take it. I was such a wuss. I couldn’t resist touching him, given any opportunity. His hand was big, strong, and capable, and it swallowed mine.

  Parker led me to his bedroom and I kicked off my shoes before crawling under the covers. I heard him leave the room and sighed, trying to figure out if I was disappointed or glad that he’d gone to the couch. But before I could decide, he was back, shedding his shirt and climbing into bed next to me. My eyes shot open.

  “I thought you went to sleep on the couch?” I asked, eyeing the rippling muscles of his chest and arms. Hugh Jackman as Wolverine came to mind.

  “I told you, I was putting dinner in the oven.” He turned on his stomach and stretched his arms underneath the pillow, giving me an absolutely drool-worthy sight of his back. Smooth skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle and tendon. His shoulders bulged and my fingers itched to touch.

  He was facing me but his eyes were closed, which gave me the luxury of memorizing his face. Perfect cheekbones, straight nose, lush lashes that I would have to use three coats of mascara to duplicate, strong jaw, and his thick chestnut hair, that looked good even tousled as it was. Parker was gorgeous and though I’d seen him nearly every day for almost two years, he could still take my breath away.

  And I was in his bed.

  Albeit under less than ideal circumstances, but the last time I’d been here, I’d chosen to leave and go to Ryker. I wouldn’t be making that same decision again. Ryker was a great guy, but there was no future in the cards for us, not least of which was because my heart was owned by the man doing a really good impression of unconsciousness right next to me.

  “Parker?” I whispered.

  Nothing.

  Wow. I wished I could fall asleep that fast. It took me forever to fall asleep, especially in a bed other than my own…

  And that was the last coherent thought I had.

  * * *

  The gentle clatter of silverware and the smell of something spicy and Italian woke me. I stretched, prying open my eyes when I heard someone step into the room.

  Parker, carrying a tray laden with the delicious-smelling food, set it on the end of the bed before sitting next to me.

  “I know breakfast is traditional, but I didn’t think you’d mind,” he quipped, taking a drink from one of two glasses of red wine.

  I was ravenous, my eyes glued to the steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

  “Where’s yours?”

  He snorted a laugh and I watched closely. Parker with wine coming out of his nose would be a sight worth remembering.

  “I thought we’d share, but there’s more if you’re still hungry.”

  Sharing seemed a little too intimate for the discussion we’d had earlier, but I was too hungry to care. I grabbed one of the two forks and dug in. One bite and I was in heaven. I moaned.

  “I love Deirdre,” I said around a mouthful of the best meatball I’d ever tasted. “You should give her a raise.”

  “I already pay her an obscene amount of money as it is,” Parker said, taking the other fork and spearing a bite for himself.

  “Worth every penny,” I said, scooping more noodles onto my fork.

  We didn’t talk for a few minutes, too busy eating, then we both slowed down at the same time. Pasta was filling and it was only as we were both twining the strands around our forks that it struck me, and I couldn’t stop a laugh.

  “What?” Parker asked, looking quizzically at me.

  “This,” I said, motioning to us and the plate. “Isn’t this like a live version of Lady and the Tramp?”

  “Are you calling me a tramp?” He speared a meatball and took a bite. There was a smudge of sauce on his chin that I wanted to lick off, and not just because the sauce was so good I’d put it in a slurpy cup if I could.

  “Should I?” I teased. “How many women have known Parker Anderson? And I mean ‘known’ as in the Biblical sense.”

  “I had no idea you were so religious.”

  I took a drink of wine but didn’t look away, wondering if he’d answer my question. Parker had always been a bit of a playboy. How many had he been with? I didn’t know why I cared…it was one of those questions you always asked, I guessed, out of morbid curiosity.

  “More than some. Less than a lot.”

  I stared. “Seriously? That’s your answer?” Though I had to admit, it was rather ingenious.

  Parker took another bite, still looking innocently at me. “You’re the one who asked,” he said.

  True.

  I was full and the wine had relaxed me. I wanted a shower, though a bath would be preferable. Parker either read my mind or saw my glance of longing toward his bathroom. I knew he had a huge soaking tub in there.

  “You can go take a bath, if you want,” he said. “I promise I won’t look.”

  I gave him the side eye, knowing he was teasing me. As if he hadn’t already seen the goods. Not only seen the goods, but touched and licked and kissed—

  I cut that off mid-thought. Not going there. My resistance was at an all-time low as it was. But he didn’t have to tell me twice. I was in that bathroom and running the water before he could untangle from the bedsheets to help me.

  “Stay there,” I called. “I can do this. Have you taken your medication yet? You’re probably due.”

  “I’m rolling my eyes at you,” he called back.

  “I don’t care, just so long as you take the meds.” The last thing I needed was him getting an infection.

  The tub took a while to fill—it was a big tub—but was well worth the wait. I eased back against the side, letting the steaming water wash over me, and let out a long sigh. Yes, this was what I needed. Well, an orgasm and then a bath would’ve been preferable, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  “Another glass of wine?”

  My eyes popped open to see Parker sitting on the edge of the tub, holding two glasses. I sat up with a jerk, grabbing the washcloth to hold over my breasts. Which, by the way, wasn’t nearly adequate. It was like trying to cover two cantaloupes with a tissue. Not that I was that well-endowed, but damn Parker’s bath towels seemed way smaller than normal.

  “I thought you weren’t going to look?” I asked, indignant. And here I’d been relaxing so nicely…

  “I’m not looking. I’m bringing you wine,” he said. “Totally different.”

  The look in his eyes told me something else entirely and I had to make myself look away. Parker looking at me with want in his gaze was enough to crumble every defense I had. And sleeping with him would solve nothing, just make things a lot more complicated.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  “Thanks for the wine,” I said, taking a glass. “You can let yourself out.”

  “We should talk,” he said, making no move toward the door. Of course he wouldn’t leave when I told him to.

  “We’ve already talked,” I said. “I have nothing else to really say about it. Not right now. I just can’t do that at the moment.” My eyes pleaded with him. I’d had enough emotional turmoil and anxiety over the past few days to last me a while. I needed a break.

  “I meant we need to talk about our plan regarding the hit on you and your dad. But it can wait until morning, if you want.” He stood to leave.

  “No, wait.”

  He sat back down.

  I pulled my knees to my chest, which served to conceal most of my more intimate parts from view. “What do you think we should do?”

  “I think we need to call Ryker in the morning, see if they got anything from ballistics or any prints. I’d imagine they pulled security footage from cameras in the building, too.”

  I nodded. All of that sounded reasonable. Very Castle or Rizzoli and Isles.

  “Then we need to figure out who would have had a motive to kill your dad. And you.”

  “I’d think after so many years in business, my dad would have a lot of enemies,” I said. “But I don’t know why anyone would want
to kill me. I’ve just started working for him.” I thought for a moment. “Are you sure the hit was for both of us? Maybe I was just a twofer.” If you can get more than one, why not? But that didn’t necessarily mean I was the target.

  Parker hesitated. “I know you were a target…because they sent a message.”

  I stared at him, waiting. This was the first I’d heard about any kind of message.

  He must’ve read the look on my face, because he spoke again. “They shot Gary. The security guard. Left a note pinned to his chest. Ryker’s running it through forensics.”

  The water was suddenly cold against my skin and goose bumps erupted down my arms. I stared at Parker, wishing I’d misheard but knowing I hadn’t. I shook my head and my lips moved, but no sound came out.

  Parker cursed, taking the wineglass from my hand. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know how else to tell you.”

  “I’ve known Gary for years,” I managed. “He used to give me candy when I came to the office with my dad.” Going into his sixties, he’d been older but hard as nails. A former Marine drill sergeant, Gary hadn’t taken shit from anybody. But he’d had a soft spot for the boss’s daughter.

  “How?”

  Parker flinched, but answered. “Shot to death. They surprised him on his rounds. He drew his weapon and got off a shot, but that’s all.”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “And what did the note say?”

  “It said ‘The daughter will pay for the sins of the father.’”

  Well. They certainly hadn’t minced words. “Sounds dramatic,” I said, anger forming in my belly. Gary had been a good man.

  “So we have to wait to hear from Ryker?”

  “No. We could start by going through your dad’s files, see if we can make a list. Then we can hopefully start narrowing that list.”

  My mind was already working. “Okay. A solid plan.” I was really glad Parker was including me on this. I’d had a niggle of doubt that he’d leave me locked inside his apartment.

  I thought the conversation was over, and yet he still sat on the edge of the tub. I raised an eyebrow.

  “The water’s getting cold.” Hint, hint.

  But instead of leaving, Parker just grabbed one of his huge, fluffy towels and held it out for me. A flash of memory hit me—Parker doing the exact same thing in New York. It made me sad, which in turn made me angry. I wasn’t about to fall for Parker again, not when his idea of “commitment” lasted scarcely twelve hours.

  I abruptly stood, water sloshing in the tub, and jerked the towel out of Parker’s hands. “I can dry myself, thank you very much.”

  His lips pressed together but he didn’t say anything. Our gazes locked in a staring contest. Then he inclined his head slightly, as if ceding me a victory, and turned and left.

  I let out a breath. Though I was glad he’d gone, I could taste the sharp bite of disappointment.

  Chapter Seven

  Monday morning dawned bright and early, and I knew that because I was up well before the sun peeked over the horizon.

  Parker had slept on the couch in the spare bedroom he used as an office last night, and I was trying hard not to feel guilty about that. He was injured and had let me have his bed. I’d put up a fight, of course, but it had been like talking to a brick wall.

  I’d tossed and turned for a while, my mind and logic warring with my heart and emotions. It hadn’t helped at all that the sheets and pillows smelled of Parker. My dreams consisted of him and me in various forms of sexual congress, making me awaken horny and frustrated.

  Not a good combination.

  Coffee cured all ills. Well, most of them. And what coffee couldn’t cure, alcohol could, but pouring a shot of bourbon in my coffee seemed like a bad idea, so I went with a heavy pour of half-and-half instead. I’d dug jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt out of my suitcase and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. If we were going to be digging through thirty years of my dad’s files today, no sense in not being comfortable.

  I was watching the first rays of sunrise kiss downtown when Parker emerged from his office. He glanced at me.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee. His voice was as polite and even as if he were greeting me at the office rather than in his apartment. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and I scrutinized the gauze over his wound. No bloodstains, so that was good. He didn’t seem to be favoring it, either.

  “Yes, thanks,” I said. “Though I still feel guilty for taking your bed.”

  He walked toward me, lifting the mug to his lips as he did so. “Well, don’t.” He took a sip.

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh good, well that was easy. So glad you said that.”

  His lips twitched in an almost-smile. “I’m going to shower and shave. Won’t be long. Then we can head out.”

  I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry at the image of Parker in the shower. He might’ve read my mind, too, because a gleam came into his eyes and the almost-smile turned into a wicked grin. In another moment, he’d disappeared into his bedroom.

  I needed more coffee for this.

  An hour later, we were pulling up to my dad’s business in Parker’s car. He’d gone through a Starbucks drive-thru and the warm smell of a bacon and egg sandwich in the paper bag on my lap was making my mouth water.

  Three security guys manned the lobby, all of them looking like they chewed nails for breakfast. Their presence was a reminder of Gary’s death and the danger that not only I was in but everyone who worked for my dad and me. The faster we found out who was doing this, the sooner we could neutralize it.

  We were a tad early, so only a few other people were in. Carrie smiled a greeting as she passed by us, coffee mug in hand and talking on her Bluetooth headset. I led Parker to my office.

  “This is nice,” he said as I headed for the windows to open the wood blinds. “No, don’t.”

  The sharp command made me stop in my tracks. “What’s wrong?”

  “No need to give anyone a target through the window,” he said. “Leave them closed.”

  Oh yeah. Someone was trying to kill me. Wouldn’t want to forget that.

  I dug my half of breakfast out and started chomping as Parker took a tour of my office. It felt odd, him being in my office as opposed to the other way around.

  “Do you like your new job here?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, I do,” I said. “It’s different when it’s something you have a stake in. It’s my father’s company and I don’t want to mess things up.”

  “You won’t.”

  The certainty in his voice gave me pause. It was a nice vote of confidence that I hadn’t expected. He looked at me, his gaze steady, until I had to look away.

  “That’s nice of you to say,” I said for lack of anything better.

  “I’m not being nice. I’m being honest. You’re smart and a quick learner. You handle people well and are a good problem-solver. I think you’ll do very well here.” He paused. “Though Rosemary doesn’t come close to replacing you.”

  A tingle of warmth in my belly at that. It was good to be missed. And hearing Parker tell me those things made me happier than it should have. I wondered if he really thought all that or was just trying to build my confidence.

  “C’mon,” I said, getting to my feet before I did or said something stupid. “The file archive is in the basement.”

  We took our breakfast and coffee to the elevator and rode it underground. The basement was your typical concrete room. It was large, encompassing the entire footprint of the building, and lit by long, rectangular fluorescent lights. I flipped the switch and they flickered to life with a telltale buzzing noise.

  Four aisles of metal storage shelving greeted us, all of it loaded with file boxes.

  “Thirty years of paperwork, at your service,” I said.

  “Good thing we go through paperwork well,” Parker replied. Which was true. He and I had a pretty good system when
combing through customer files. I hoped it would serve us well today, because hours of reading files until I went blind was not something I was looking forward to.

  We dug in.

  It was chilly but humid in the basement, an awful combination. A few hours later, I was sticky with sweat and sported a nice layer of dust from head to foot. Parker, of course, looked even more gorgeous with a faint sheen on his skin. I could smell him slightly, his sweat-tinged cologne, and it just made me cranky.

  We were quiet as we worked, digging through boxes and reading files. Most were run-of-the-mill orders and invoices. Some were acquisitions of other businesses and for the most part, Parker went through those. A ton of it was legalese and while I had a working knowledge of the terminology, he could get through it quicker and much more thoroughly than I could.

  I’d been thinking about Parker’s parents and I wondered if they’d called him. Maybe his mother had left a message or told him they would come see him. Parker and I had never discussed his parents, so it was with more than a little hesitation that I asked with deliberate casualness, “So, have you talked to your mom or dad?”

  Parker glanced at me, then back down at the file he held. “No.”

  His tone didn’t invite further discussion, so I shut my mouth and went back to work. It was his business, not mine. Though I tried not to let it bother me, it hurt that he wouldn’t open up to me about what I knew was a very touchy subject.

  “I didn’t expect them to call,” he said out of the blue a few minutes later.

  I paused in flipping pages. “Why not?”

  Parker looked as though he were considering his words carefully. “We’re not close, my parents and me. I had a younger brother who passed away when he was eight. Leukemia. My parents never got over it, especially my mother. He was everything to her and I think she wished it had been me instead.”

  Holy shit.

  I stared at him as he set aside a file and rummaged in the box for another one. He’d said all of that as though it wasn’t a big deal, when it was. It really, really was.