Star Bright

by Catherine Anderson

  Parker carried the pizza box over and set it down. “I could lock him in one of the sheds while I’m workin’, I guess.”

  Her eyes widened with dismay. “That would be cruel. He’s just a baby. He needs company.”

  “He oughta sleep some of the time. Have you fed him?” As per Samantha’s instructions, Parker had gotten a bunch of pureed meat, a box of infant rice cereal, and canned milk. According to his sister, a soft, runny mixture of those three ingredients, heavy on the meat, was more nutritious than dry kibble for a rottweiler puppy Mojo’s age. “Most babies get drowsy with their bellies full.”

  “I fed him.”

  Rainie bent to pick up the puppy. As she worked Mojo’s teeth loose from the hem of her skirt, Parker got a mind-boggling glimpse of gorgeous legs. Her skin was the color of saddle soap, milky and sort of translucent-looking. He would have bet his Stetson that it felt just as silky, too. One of his favorite things was to open a brand-new tin of saddle soap. He liked how it went warm and slick onto his fingertips—like certain places on the body of a well-loved woman.

  What the hell was he thinking? Parker jerked himself up short. He was losing his mind. That had to be it. He never looked at one of his female employees and entertained lascivious thoughts. Well, hardly ever, anyway. And when a thought like that did flit through his mind, he never let it remain there long enough to give him a hard-on. Shit. What if Rainie noticed? She was just now coming to trust him a little. Perfect, Parker. Why don’t you drool while you’re at it?

  He swung away to hang his hat on one of the pegs by the door. Down, boy. Unfortunately, that particular part of his anatomy had a mind of its own. “Excuse me a second,” he said over his shoulder. “I just remembered somethin’ I need to go do.”

  “Don’t be so long you let the pizza get cold.”

  Right at the moment, Parker doubted he would notice if the cheese had ice crystals on it. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door. Damn. He went to the tack room to lounge against a saddle bar until his jeans fit right again. Only pictures of those legs kept flashing in his mind, and the fly of his pants continued to protrude. He tried to focus his thoughts on something else—the lousy book he’d been reading, world affairs, the state of the national economy. Nothing worked. Finally, in desperation, he began thinking of his horses. Montana, the champion buckskin stud that had put his rear leg through a stall wall, had been limping slightly again. That was a worry weighty enough to dampen Parker’s physical urges.

  He sighed with relief. It wasn’t like him to get turned on so easily by a woman, especially not a woman who might be married. During lunches, he’d studied Rainie’s left hand to see if he could detect a telltale depression on her ring finger where a band had once been. No such luck. In weak moments, he reminded himself that lots of people lived together without benefit of marriage nowadays. Maybe Rainie had only been living with the guy when the relationship turned ugly.

  Yeah, right. Somehow, she didn’t strike him as being the type to shack up with someone. He had her pegged as a forever kind of lady who would expect a ring, promises, and avowals of undying devotion before she hooked up with a man. That being the case, she’d more than likely been married to the creep and probably still was. Where did that leave Parker? It left him lusting after a married woman, that was where, and that didn’t sit well with him. He shouldn’t allow his feelings for her to deepen any more than they already had.

  And wasn’t that a hell of a note? He was thirty-five years old and had spent most of his adult life searching for someone like her, and now that he’d found her, she was off-limits. His feet felt heavy as he retraced his steps along the hallway. He hesitated outside the door, his mood gloomy. It hardly seemed fair. Rainie needed someone. That was obvious. And, damn it, he wanted to be that someone. What was so wrong with that?

  Making a fast U-turn, Parker went back to the tack room, tugged his cell phone from his belt, and dialed his father’s number. Frank answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Dad. Parker here. I got a question for you.”

  The clink-clink of a spoon stirring coffee came over the line. “Shoot. If I don’t have the answer, I’ll ask Dee Dee. She knows everything.”

  Parker heard his plump, redheaded stepmother protest with a good-natured laugh. He smiled slightly, glad that his father had found happiness in the autumn of his life with someone so wonderful, yet feeling sad for himself. It wasn’t often that a woman appealed to Parker like Rainie did. What if he passed on this opportunity and no one special ever came along again?

  His throat went dry as he started to speak. “I’m fallin’ hard for a woman who might be married,” he blurted.

  “Damn, son. That ain’t a question. It’s a bomb to be dropped on enemy lines.”

  “Sorry. I had to come right out with it, or I wouldn’t have got it said.”

  Frank cleared his throat. The clinking of the spoon resumed, only louder now, an indication of the older man’s agitation. “Can you pull hard on your Jake Brake, Parker? A married woman is bad news. You don’t want to be a home wrecker.”

  “There’s no home to wreck.” Parker quickly related his suspicions about the relationship. “I think she’s on the run, Dad. Pritchard probably isn’t even her real last name.”

  “You seen any evidence of physical abuse?”

  Parker thought of the pink scar that ran along Rainie’s fragile cheekbone and related that information to his father. “So, yes. I’m pretty sure the bastard beat the ever-lovin’ hell out of her on a regular basis. She’s hand-shy and as skittish as a quirt-whipped filly.”

  “Well, that puts a different spin on things,” Frank said. “That’s not a marriage. It’s an affront to the word. There’s nothin’ holy about a union like that.”

  Those had been Parker’s thoughts as well, but it helped somehow to hear his father say them aloud.

  “When a man pulls that kind of shit, he ain’t no kind of husband,” Frank continued. “I believe in the sanctity of marriage. You know that. But when Sammy finally told me what her ex had been doin’ to her behind closed doors, the first words out of my mouth were, ‘Divorce him.’ And I supported her every inch of the way. That marriage was an abomination. And I don’t believe for one second that God expected her to stay in it.”

  “No, of course not.” Parker’s voice drifted away into taut silence. “I’ve just never been here before. You know? Messin’ with a married woman isn’t my style.”

  “Then walk away.”

  Parker rubbed between his eyebrows. “I can’t. I’ve tried keepin’ my distance, but first thing I know, I’m makin’ excuses to be with her again.”

  “Well, then?”

  “Technically, won’t I be committin’ adultery?”

  Frank took a moment to answer. “You worried about burnin’ in hell over a technicality? I’m sorry, son, but I don’t think heaven’s judicial system works that way.”

  Parker had to smile. This was why he’d called his dad—because he could always count on him to talk good, old-fashioned common sense. Frank had a way of breaking things down so the complicated suddenly seemed simple.

  “How many times have you told me not to justify a wrong?” Parker asked.

  “A number of times.”

  “So, what if I’m justifyin’ and makin’ excuses so I won’t feel guilty about steppin’ over the line?”

  “If the girl’s got marks on her face from a man’s fists, there’s no line to step over. My advice is that you stop thinkin’ it to death and just follow your heart. You’ve got a good one.”

  Parker closed his eyes. “Right now, my heart’s tellin’ me to jump in with both feet.”

  “Then jump.”

  “You won’t disapprove if it turns out that she’s married?”

  “Not for a minute. The marriage ended the first time he hit her. I’d encourage her to get a divorce as soon as possible, of course. But that’s a legality, not an immediate necessity.”

  “C
onvincin’ her to file for divorce could be tricky. She might be afraid her old man will find out where she is.”

  There was a smile in Frank’s voice when he replied, “Send the bastard an engraved invitation to lunch.”

  Parker had heard that one so many times that he knew what came next. “And serve him a fist sandwich when he dares to show up?”

  “I’m thinkin’ more along the line of a fist banquet. If you’re not feelin’ froggy, call Clint. He’ll show the bastard how the cow ate the cabbage. Nothin’ gets him riled faster than a man roughin’ up a woman.”

  “Clint can take a number and stand in line. This fellow’s mine. I got a Tony Lama boot that’s just itchin’ to kick some ass.”

  Frank chuckled. “That’s my boy. Teach him how it feels to be on the receivin’ end. Might make him think twice the next time he gets an urge to beat on a woman.”

  When Parker opened the office door a few minutes later, he was smiling. Talking with his father had helped him sort his thoughts and get his head on straight. Married or not, Rainie was fair game. Parker wasn’t about to let some misguided sense of morality stand in his way.

  Rainie sat on the floor playing with Mojo. She was giggling so loudly that she apparently didn’t hear him enter behind her. Watching her with the puppy did his heart good. Adopting Mojo had been a stroke of genius. It was hard to be solemn, sad, or frightened with a mischievous, toothy, snarly puppy to break down all your defenses.

  “I figured you’d be eatin’ pizza like there’s no tomorrow by now,” he said. “Instead you’re playin’ with that goofy dog.”

  She angled a startled glance over her shoulder. “He won’t stay in the pool. It’s a little hard to ignore him.”

  Parker dropped his gaze to the kiddie pool. He’d known when he bought it that Mojo would climb out of it in two seconds flat. It had served as a great smoke screen, though. Rainie would never suspect that he’d adopted the puppy as much for her as he had for himself.

  He heard her giggle again and glanced up to see Mojo suckling on her earlobe. In that moment, Parker would have traded places with the pup in a heartbeat. Her hair smelled like apple pie. Strange, that. He’d never been a huge fan of apple pie—until now.

  “You reckon he’s hungry again?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  She started to get up. Parker stopped her with a raised hand. “He’s my dog. I’ll mix up his grub.”

  Moments later, when he returned to the main part of the office, Rainie had Mojo cradled in her arms like a baby, his fat little belly shining pink at the ceiling. “Uh-oh. You hornin’ in on my turf, tryin’ to steal my dog?”

  She smiled up at him. Parker decided he’d not only hung the moon, but the stars as well. “He’s too sweet to resist,” she informed him.

  That had been Parker’s hope. He put the food bowl down on the floor, and Mojo started squirming to escape. Rainie set him gently on his feet and beamed with pleasure as she watched him waddle over to the meal. “He has a great appetite.”

  “That’s a good thing. He’ll grow big and strong. Sammy says he’ll be very protective of his loved ones when he gets older, that all his growlin’ and tuggin’ right now is only for practice.”

  She pushed to her feet, treating him to another fetching glimpse of shapely leg. “I don’t know very much about rottweilers—or any kind of dog, for that matter. My dad had allergies, so I could never have a pet.”

  Parker filed that bit of information away, pleased that she’d shared it with him. “That sucks. I never had a dog as a kid, but I didn’t notice the lack because I had horses. They were my pets. Still are.” He sat at the desk and opened the pizza box, motioning for her to join him. “Don’t know what possessed me to get a dog, but I’m glad I did.”

  She sank onto her castered chair. “It was his mojo,” she said, her cheek dimpling in a teasing grin. “It’s hard to look at him without being charmed.”

  “I was taken with him, that’s for sure,” Parker confessed. “He grabbed hold of my jeans and wouldn’t let go. He’s got brass. I like that.”

  She plucked a piece of pizza from the box, stringing mozzarella to the pink tip of her outthrust tongue. Watching her, Parker felt his jeans grow snug again. But the feeling was quickly replaced by sheer enjoyment at seeing her so relaxed. Mojo had definitely worked some magic.

  “He needs some teething toys,” she informed him. “You thought of everything but that.”

  “Hmm.” Parker took a bite of pizza, studying her as he chewed. After swallowing, he said, “Would you go with me to a pet store to pick some out?”

  He half expected her to refuse, but she surprised him with, “That would be fun.”

  “Tomorrow? We could drive in together and do lunch before we go shoppin’.”

  “Lunch?”

  “It’ll be a nice change from takeout. You like authentic Italian?”

  “I love Italian.”

  “I know a great little mom-and-pop. Red-checkered tablecloths, bread made fresh every mornin’. The food is awesome. They make all the pasta and sauces themselves. I don’t go to eat there as often as I’d like.”

  “What’ll we do with Mojo while we’re gone?”

  “I’ll find a box, and we’ll take him. The pet store I’m thinkin’ of welcomes pets. We’ll let him pick out some of his own toys.”

  Sunlight slanted through the windshield into Rainie’s eyes as she drove home that evening. Lunch. Why had she said yes? It felt too much like a date. Every time she thought about it, she got butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Stupid, stupid. He was ten years older than she was. His family was rich. His first name began with a P. She felt as if her life had become a television rerun, and she knew exactly what would happen next. People were supposed to learn from their mistakes. Right? Yet here she was, developing a huge crush on another older man.

  Parker was nothing like Peter, she reminded herself. It was silly of her to draw comparisons. But how could she not? Peter had been her boss. Parker was her boss. Peter had been opinionated. Parker was opinionated. She’d trusted Peter when she shouldn’t have. Now she was starting to trust Parker.

  Was she weak-minded or something?

  The moment Rainie got home, she picked up the phone. Dates could be canceled. Self-destructive behaviors could be changed. She wasn’t doomed to repeat the same old mistakes unless she allowed herself to repeat them.

  Parker had just stuffed a large bite of pastrami sandwich into his mouth when his cell phone rang. He immediately recognized the number, not because Rainie contacted him very often, but because he’d been tempted to call her so many times that he had memorized the digits. He made quick work of swallowing the food, hit the talk button, and said, “Hey. You aren’t stranded somewhere with car trouble, I hope.”

  “No. The car is running perfectly now that your mechanic worked on it.” Silence. “I, um, just called about tomorrow.”

  Tremulous and soft, her voice wrapped around him like tendrils of silk. He knew by her tone that something was up. “What about tomorrow?” he asked.

  “The lunch thing. I’ve decided to cancel.”

  Parker settled his hips against the granite counter and crossed his ankles. It was her prerogative to cancel, and normally he would have let it go at that. Only with Rainie, this went much deeper than a simple change of heart. He felt certain of it.

  “Why are you cancelin’?” he asked, wondering even as he formed the question if she would answer candidly.

  “I, um . . .” He heard her take a shaky breath. “It just feels too much like a date. And I’m not ready for that. I may never be ready for that.”

  He had to give her high marks for honesty. By making the confession, she was admitting that she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Otherwise she would have gone with him to town and never given it a second thought. He decided to take a huge chance by responding with honesty himself.

  “It can be rough when you’re tryin’ to recover from a bad rela
tionship.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, her voice pitched barely above a whisper. “I, um . . . I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.”

  “I don’t blame you there.”

  “You don’t?”

  The incredulity in her voice made him smile sadly. She’d clearly been expecting an argument. “Not a bit. I’ve made a few mistakes in my lifetime.” And blowing this chance with her wouldn’t be added to the list. “Repeatin’ ’em would be pretty damned dumb on my part.”

  He heard her sigh. “Thank you for not being mad at me.”

  “Mad at you? For cancelin’ a silly lunch date? Nah.”

  “That’s just it, don’t you see—that it’s only a silly lunch date. I don’t know why I’m in such a dither about it. Have you ever felt like your life was becoming a rerun?”

  “Like on television, you mean?”

  “Yes, only a really bad rerun, the kind you never want to watch a second time. It’s like getting stuck on a monorail track. I want to go a different direction this time, only no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I’m doing the same things all over again. Having the same feelings. It makes me panicky.”

  The frantic edge in her voice told Parker that she truly did feel panicky, and she’d done such an excellent job of describing her sense of helplessness with the monorail analogy that he could almost feel it himself. Mojo waddled over to attack Parker’s pant leg, but Parker was so focused on his conversation with Rainie that he barely felt the tugs. This was a turning point in their relationship, he realized, a hugely important turning point. Never before had she opened up to him like this. How he responded would determine where they went from here.

  His first impulse was to promise that her relationship with him would be nothing like the one she’d just escaped, but if he did that, they would both have to acknowledge the possibility that they would someday have a relationship beyond that of boss and employee. He didn’t think she was ready to contemplate that yet.