Bracing herself for another Parker encounter, she opened the door and entered the chaos of the noisy sports bar. She weaved her way through the throng of people, scanning the crowd.
And then her gaze caught on the back of ruffled brown hair with streaks of gold, spying Parker at a small table. He wore well-worn jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt and the brown leather jacket. A black-haired man in slacks, a navy peacoat and no tie shared the table.
As she approached, Parker’s green eyes collided with hers. ‘What are you doing here?’
The words were delivered with more surprise than annoyance, but the pause that followed was uncomfortable, filled with Parker’s heated gaze, chatter and the sound of clinking glasses.
The man sitting beside him sent Parker a curious look before sticking out his hand. ‘Rob Winston,’ he said with a smile and an accent that sounded southern. Texan, maybe. ‘Ignore my partner here.’ She returned his shake as he tipped his head in Parker’s direction. ‘His momma didn’t hug him enough as a child.’
The words sent a shock through Amber’s system. There wasn’t a flicker of emotion in Parker’s expression, the muscles in his face rigid. By the nonchalant way Rob had delivered the words, Amber knew that Parker’s partner had no idea how close to the marrow his words had drilled. It was written in the way Parker was studiously avoiding her gaze.
Because she remembered...
‘Don’t get your ovaries in a wad, Robin,’ Parker huffed, though there was no real annoyance there, either.
‘Don’t be such a dirtbag, Parker,’ Rob said good-naturedly.
Amber had the distinct impression that these words were uttered on a daily basis.
‘So—’ eyes on Amber, Rob indicated for her to take a seat, but she hesitated ‘—how do you know my dumbass of a partner here?’
‘We grew up together,’ she said.
This seemed to prick Rob’s interest. He sat up higher in his seat and folded his arms on the table, leaning in with a light in his gaze that was unmistakable.
‘I bet you have some good stories about my friend here,’ Rob said. ‘Please—’ he waved at the chair beside him again in invitation ‘—join us and share.’
Ignoring Parker’s gaze, Amber bit back the smile as she sat down. It was hard not to respond to the open friendliness in Rob’s face, the amusing curiosity in his eyes. Which made it easier to bear Parker’s disconcerting attention.
‘You’re right, Rob.’ Her eyes slid to meet Parker’s, who was staring at her with a heat that burned her to the core, making her words just a little too husky. ‘I do have some doozies to tell.’
The responding flash in Parker’s gaze sent a thrill tripping through her limbs.
‘Was he always an obstinate SOB?’ Rob said.
Amber smiled at the memories. ‘Definitely.’
‘He’s relentless,’ Rob said with an acknowledging nod of his head. ‘He once chased a suspect ten blocks before tackling him in the alleyway of a pawnshop. And that was after the guy had dumped a pail of rose-colored paint over Parker’s head.’
Amber laughed at the image of Parker in pink sprinting up the street.
‘He spent one whole summer teaching me how to hold a crab,’ she said. Remembering her yells and Parker’s patient laughs, she twisted her lips wryly. ‘I kept shrieking and drawing my hands away. But he kept insisting I try again, no matter how loud I screamed.’
He’d paddled like a madman to rescue her from drowning.
He hadn’t given up then, either.
Tilting his head, Rob went on. ‘You should see him in the interrogation room,’ he said. ‘Of course, my hell-on-wheels partner here is the reason we have the highest closure rate in the department.’
That Parker was the best at his job didn’t come as a surprise.
Chuckling, Rob glanced around. ‘We should have the waitress bring you a drink,’ he said to Amber. ‘So we can swap war stories. Was he a shameless flirt back then, too?’
‘The summer he was seventeen he dated three girls—’ eyes fixed on Rob, she leaned in conspiratorially, ignoring Parker’s frown ‘—at the same time.’
‘I don’t remember that,’ Parker said.
Gazing at Rob as if Parker hadn’t spoken, Amber went on. ‘Leslie Campbell, Sharon Howell and Susie Frances.’ She hoped no one would comment on why she remembered the girls’ names when Parker didn’t. ‘Once I even caught him—’
‘Hey.’ Clearly unhappy with the turn in the conversation, Parker waved a hand in the air between his tablemates’ gazes. ‘I’m sitting right here, people.’ He tossed a loaded look at his partner. ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and go find the waitress.’
Rob chuckled again. ‘But I’m—’ his curious gaze slid to his partner, where he must have seen something interesting, because Rob cleared his throat and stood ‘—just going to find the waitress.’ He sent Amber a quick nod. ‘Nice to meet you.’
After an answering smile, Amber watched the man walk away to join a boisterous bunch at the end of the bar. Her gaze lingered more from a nervousness about looking at Parker again then from any real interest in his good-looking partner.
‘Why are you here, Amber?’ Parker asked, his voice wary.
Feeling the need for a sense of power, she shifted higher in her seat. And from his laid-back position, legs stretched in front of him, they were almost eye to eye. Her foot brushed his, and a flash of awareness lit his gaze, an awareness that reminded her that she had been well and thoroughly kissed by Parker.
‘You know why I’m here,’ she said.
‘We’re not finishing what we started.’
Was he talking about their make-out session or the conversation where she insisted he be in the wedding?
And why was the former more disappointing than the latter?
Amber lost track of the thought when he shrugged out of his jacket to loop it behind his chair, the muscles in his chest flexing from the move. The long-sleeved T-shirt stretched across his gorgeous form nicely, the pectorals and biceps filling it in a way that made coherent thought briefly impossible.
‘You need to come get measured for your tux,’ Amber said.
Parker let out a grunt. ‘I’m not going to be in the wedding.’
‘You have to.’
His gaze pierced her. ‘I don’t have to do anything.’
‘Please, Parker,’ Amber said, all teasing long gone. ‘I know it means nothing to you. But it’s really important to Reese.’
At the mention of his sister, Parker’s gaze slid off into the distance and Amber could see the conflict on his face. He wanted to, but he didn’t. And suddenly, it seemed imperative that Parker accept this little bit of his family’s affections. Or, more accurately, his sister’s affections. Somehow Amber just knew that if he didn’t follow through with this he would remain distant, not only to his family, but to, well...life.
‘I’m busy, Amber,’ he said. ‘I’m here with my friends.’
‘And as soon as you agree to the simple deed that will make your sister happy,’ she said easily, leaning back to get comfortable, ‘I’ll get out of your hair.’
The twist of his lips betrayed his displeasure. But this was too important. And much bigger than just one wedding.
When he didn’t relent, Amber crossed her arms and pulled the same stunt she’d pulled after he’d saved her from drowning. ‘If you don’t agree to be in Reese’s wedding,’ she went on with an expression so innocent she knew Parker could see through it, ‘I’ll agree to that drink with Rob.’
Parker’s gaze barreled back into hers. ‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I would.’ She sent him a small smile. They both knew she had enough stories to embarrass him from now until forever. ‘I bet Rob would love to know you listened to ’N Sync.’
‘When I was twelve,’ he barked, eyebrows scrunched in horrified protest.
‘You were seventeen when you let Susie Frances paint your toenails.’
‘That was joke.’ H
e glanced around nervously, as if suddenly realizing the potential risk to his reputation. ‘And besides—’ the sexy smirk edged up his face ‘—she made the humiliation totally worth my while.’
And Amber really didn’t want to hear how.
‘Okay,’ she said. Time to go big or go home. She leaned closer, and this time her smile was brilliant. ‘I’ll tell Rob about the time I walked in on you in the bathroom and caught you—’
‘Stop.’ His hand landed on the table with a thump, and he eyed her as if half tempted to muzzle her mouth. His voice gruff, he muttered, ‘Holy mother of—’
The curse—a creative one, no doubt—died as he plowed a hand through his gold-tipped hair, leaving it more tousled than usual.
‘I’ll do it, okay?’ he said.
The boyishly ruffled hair, his obvious embarrassment and his agreement sent a twist of affection to her heart, and she leaned in close enough to smell the leather of his jacket.
‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely as she reached out, overwhelmed with the need to touch his hand in simple appreciation.
He must have misread her intentions, because his gaze grew dark as he drew back out of reach. ‘You’ve had your kiss,’ he said dryly. ‘And that’s all you get. As a matter of fact,’ he went on, lifting his brow as if in challenge. ‘Hands to yourself from here on out.’
Amber was surprised the surge of heat didn’t leave her in a puddle in her chair. Her nerves pulled into a knot, partly from the mention of their kiss and partly in annoyance at the reminder she wasn’t his ‘type.’ Which apparently included everyone but her. She inhaled a soothing breath. Parker Robinson seemed to avoid anything he didn’t want to talk about—emotions, thoughts, feelings, his past—by burying it in sexual innuendo.
She remember Parker arching against her body, the catch of his breath against her mouth...and the pulse of pure, unadulterated pleasure knowing that she had caused both.
Clearly, he’d enjoyed kissing her. No one could fake that kind of response. And he was still attracted, she could sense it in his gaze, in his very posture. Except he kept insisting he’d never touch her again. Any other guy and she wouldn’t care.
For some reason, Parker’s attitude was starting to tick her off.
‘I’m measuring you for your tuxedo,’ she said, amazed she managed to sound so calm. ‘Touching kind of goes along with the activity.’
She forced her eyes to remain steady on his as an impressive whirlwind of emotion swept across his face. Annoyance. Resentment. And a whole lot of lust.
Lust.
Chest slowly squeezing the air from her lungs, she desperately reminded herself that she didn’t do casual hookups, no matter how attracted she was. More important, she’d never, ever, seduce a guy. And she wouldn’t dream of chasing a fellow who was throwing up caution signs all over the place. Especially like the man seated across from her, a man who was less like a stop sign and more like a road-totally-closed-ahead kind of guy.
But...but she’d wanted Parker her whole life and the desire was so strong she was seriously considering making him an exception.
‘Fine,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I work long hours, so it will be late before I can stop by your shop.’
Visions of him in her store swam before her eyes. At night. The two of them alone. All she could hear in her head was Reese’s ‘You should be more proactive.’
And if anyone was worth taking the initiative to seduce, it was Parker Robinson.
Decision made, anticipation coursed through her veins, and Amber swallowed so hard it hurt.
She cleared her throat. ‘I make special, after-hours appointments fairly regularly,’ she said. ‘Just tell me when you can be there.’
Parker heaved out a breath and grabbed his beer bottle. ‘Nine-thirty tomorrow night,’ he said, taking a sip as he shot her a loaded look. ‘Just a quick couple of measurements and then I’m gone.’
The set of those beautiful lips and the tone of his voice made it abundantly clear he was done. But Amber...
Well, as far as she was concerned, she was just getting started.
FOUR
At nine-thirty the next night Parker pulled the door open to Amber’s Bridals. The bell tinkled way too merrily for a frustrating day that had started with a dead end on the Miller case, expanding the black, vast void in his chest. Which meant he’d spent the rest of today numbly going through the motions. Or maybe the numbness had been a problem for months.
Perhaps years.
Rolling his shoulders uneasily, he glanced around. He had to hand it to the kid, she had one helluva store. Classy to the core, the shop contained sleek hardwood floors and an abundance of white dresses lining the walls, veils, fake bouquets and pictures of models in wedding getup. And bowls of...what were those? Rose petals?
Parker couldn’t help himself. He let out a shudder.
‘Don’t worry.’ Amber’s voice came from behind. ‘No one has to know you were here.’
He let out a barking laugh. ‘I’m losing every masculine mark I ever earned just by passing through these doors—’
Turning, he was hit with a vision of Amber that knocked him on his virtual ass. How had the geeky preteen grown into such a vision? Red hair flowed past her shoulders. She was dressed in dressy jeans and a sheer top that clung to her breasts, the long-sleeve blouse flaring at the waist and sleeves. She managed to look young and sweet and incredibly sexy.
And with the current case he was working on, he felt old and hardened and done with humanity.
Amber crossed to lock the door and then turned to face him, remaining silent. The staring contest grew uncomfortable as Parker realized he was alone in a shop with a beautiful woman who had, at the age of twelve, looked at him as if he hung the moon, the stars and the bloody sun to boot. Unfortunately, the appreciation in her face now held the weight of experience. Not to mention the lady was a walking, talking advertisement for Happily Ever After and Parker was quite convinced that Content for Now was beyond his capabilities. Toss in the fact that they were surrounded by swarms of puffy white dresses—and, holy mother, were those fake tiaras?—and the situation was less amusing than downright concerning.
She hiked a brow that didn’t ease the tension. ‘You ready?’
What was that supposed to mean?
‘Of course,’ he said.
He wasn’t an amateur. He refused to be intimated by the little slip of a thing that he’d taught how to capture crabs on the beach.
As he followed her down the hall, he made a point of ignoring the gentle, seductive sway of her slight hips and the fluid walk. Fortunately, the view was easier to ignore when she stepped into a large room containing two couches, an armchair and a coffee table mimicking an elegant living room, the furniture facing a small space surrounded on three sides by floor-length mirrors. And while he was sure broad daylight and the addition of people encouraged the appropriate air for viewing a dress, somehow the whole setup hinted at something...almost erotic. Especially with just the two of them. Alone.
Damn, what had he agreed to?
‘Take off your jacket and shoes,’ Amber said, waving in the direction of the furniture.
Parker shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on a couch, toeing off his shoes.
‘Uh—’ her eyes dropped to his shoulder holster containing his weapon and handcuffs ‘—the gun, too.’
For some reason he hesitated.
‘What?’ she said, hand on her hip. ‘You don’t mind taking off the jacket and shoes, but you draw a line at the weapon?’
‘Maybe it brings me a sense of security,’ he said with a small grin. When she waited for him to go on, the oft-repeated joke tripped off of his tongue. ‘Most people respect the badge,’ he said. ‘But everyone respects Smith & Wesson.’
‘Is that why you do what you do?’ she said, gesturing for him to step forward to the space in front of the mirror. ‘For respect?’
Black void expanding exponentially in his chest, he frowned
. Shoot. He’d been teasing and she’d jumped straight to the serious talk.
‘How long is this going to take?’ he said as he crossed to the designated spot.
She pulled out a small, flexible tape measure and moved closer, pulling his gut a touch tighter. ‘I need to measure you for a shirt, jacket and pants,’ she said.
Which was really no answer at all.
And suddenly she was right in front of him, bringing her scent and the clear skin of her beautiful face close to his. He leaned back and looked down at her dubiously, his frown drawing his brows down until they tried to merge with his eyes.
‘Relax,’ she said. But something in her tone made the suggestion impossible. ‘This isn’t going to hurt.’
He elected to ignore the twitch of her luscious lips and hoped to hell she was talking about being measured for the tux. Innocent expression clashing with the knowing light in her eyes, she looped the tape measure—and consequently, her arms—around his neck, setting his heart tapping harder in his chest.
The slight smile on her face made him nervous. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,’ she said as she took the measurement, her fingers whispering against him just beneath his Adam’s apple.
The simple brush of skin on skin sent a line of goose bumps streaking up his back. And how was that possible when she was only touching his stupid neck?
‘Are you going to your mother’s dinner party in two weeks?’ she went on.
Fortunately it was a question he could answer without thought, because thinking was difficult with her so close. ‘No.’
The word came out a little harsher than he’d intended, but the feel of her fingers was sending an uncomfortable thrum through his body. And how long did it take to get an accurate measurement? She wasn’t launching a nuclear warhead here. An approximation would do just fine, thank you.
The First Crush Is the Deepest Page 20
