by Ann Bruce
She only made another small sound, this time drawing out the low note.
“Why aren’t you sleeping in my bed? It took me three tries to find you.”
She frowned, trying to rise above the haze of desire to think coherently. “Candy,” she said finally.
“What does she have to do with you not waiting for me in my bed?”
“She’s jealous. She doesn’t like her favorite uncle shacking up with a woman.”
The circling motion of his hand stopped. “What?”
“Your niece adores you and doesn’t want to share, especially not with someone she doesn’t think is good enough for you. You’re her knight in shining armor.”
“Where are you getting this?”
“You don’t need to be Freud to figure it out, but I guess you may be too close to her to see it. She’s very protective of you.”
“What did she say to you while I wasn’t here?” demanded Dean.
“That’s not important.”
“The hell it’s not,” he protested vehemently. “I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow. I won’t have her insulting you.”
“There’s no need for that,” she said through a yawn. “You charging to my defense is only going to make her more resentful of me.”
His hand slid to her hip and squeezed. He didn’t like her answer.
“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, finding his hand and covering it with hers. “I deal with prima donnas all the time. Fifteen-year-old girls have nothing on models and fashion photographers. Besides, I’ve never had a younger woman envious of me before.”
“Right.” His palm glided to the curve of her waist. “So, am I your knight in shining armor?”
She snorted. “I don’t have on your niece’s blinders. I can see your armor’s tarnished,” she remarked, and yelped when he promptly pinched her in retaliation. She drove her elbow back, then tried not to wince when she encountered a lot of hard muscle. The man was in better physical shape than some of the male models with whom she’d dealt. Dean merely chuckled and she slapped at the back of his hand. “Go back to your own bed.”
“I need more room,” he said, and proceeded to use his greater weight and muscle to push her closer to the center of the bed.
“You can have all the room you want in your own bed,” she retorted even as she allowed him to scoot her over, rolling over onto her back.
“But you already have this one warm,” he said, and his arm settled heavily across her naked body, forestalling her attempt to roll away from him. Not that she would’ve stayed away for long since the sheets were cold enough against her slumber-warmed skin to make her shift onto her side and curl into the fetal position. Dean drew her toward him. “Come here.”
With a breathy sound, she started to turn to face him.
“No,” he said, “like this,” and, keeping her back nestled to his front, his hand arrowed down to the apex of her legs and slipped between her folds.
Parker inhaled sharply and reached back for any part of him, digging her fingertips into muscled flesh.
His lips brushed her ear as his fingers found and rolled her clitoris. “Were you dreaming of me?”
“No,” she lied, and bit back a moan when he abruptly withdrew his fingers. She held her breath as he went still behind her, quiet except for the sound of his breathing, and anticipation coiled hotly in her quivering belly. The bed shifted, sheets rustled and panic threatened. A protest sprang onto her tongue, her lips parted, then she heard the crinkle of foil and air rushed from her lungs. She thought she heard him chuckle but couldn’t care.
Dean captured both her wrists and yanked her arms over her head. Holding her wrists captive with one hand, he used the other to push her hair away from the back of her neck, exposing it, making her feel incredibly vulnerable.
The first touch of his lips to the sensitive skin of her neck sent molten desire through her body, making it feel heavy and lethargic and tingly all at once. Parker’s low moan filled the room. He threaded his fingers through her hair, tilted her head forward to allow him easier access and opened his mouth, treating her to the wet rasp of his tongue.
Nerve endings ignited and she struggled against his hold, fighting to free her wrists. Dean’s response was to squeeze until she winced. It wasn’t painful, just a reminder he was in control.
He lifted his lips away from her skin. “Were you dreaming of me?” he asked again, hoarse and a little ragged.
Yes, she thought, but the little, red-skinned imp inside her hadn’t had enough and made her shake her head. The hand in her hair fisted and his mouth went to the base of her neck, exploring the bumps of her spine and making her writhe in his hold. She arched her pelvis, but he ignored the plea. As his mouth traveled from vertebrae to vertebrae, he cupped a breast and massaged it. She felt a tiny measure of relief and arched her back, thrusting her breast harder into his palm and her buttocks closer to his groin.
He groaned her name. Needing more, she tried to twist around. Dean clamped a hand down on her hip, stopping her mid-motion, and gave a warning squeeze.
“Like this,” he muttered harshly, and smoothed his hand down the length of her thigh and grasped her knee. He lifted it, arranging her limb until it was draped over his, opening her for him. He took his penis in his hand and teased her, parting her damp nether curls with the head. Parker felt the burning heat of him through the thin latex. Her sex clenched and she made a broken sound. Frustration at new levels, she started to reach for him. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, hard enough to leave marks. “Not yet. Not until you tell me what I want to hear.”
She clawed at the sheets, grasped them, twisted them. He let her feel the tip of him against her throbbing clitoris, barely more than a graze. She quivered uncontrollably.
“Say it,” he demanded, his breath hot against the skin of her neck.
“Yes.”
“More.”
“You,” she gasped breathlessly. “I…I was dreaming of you.”
He wedged an arm underneath her body and curled it around her waist. He skimmed her abdomen, then back up to fondle her breasts again. Her hand found his thigh and ran up and down it. He positioned himself at the entrance to her body, pressed against it. His hands went to her hips and lifted them. He pushed himself inside her from behind, slowly stretching her. It was too slow. She needed faster, harder. When she tried to move, to force him to her will, he only laughed, the sound harsh.
After an eternity, he was finally inside her fully, a searing, throbbing presence that filled her completely. She squeezed her eyes shut, savoring the sensation. Then he moved, working back and forth, pumping so slowly she thought she would be driven insane. She raked her short nails up his thigh. With a rough sound, Dean dropped his head to her shoulder, letting her feel his teeth, and thrust hard.
Parker cried out. He bucked wildly against her, driving up inside her over and over again. She came hard, her flesh exploding as he continued to take from her, each thrust jarring her body. He rammed inside her one last time, called out her name and held her trembling body tightly to his as he peaked, his own body going rigid, then shuddering.
Saturday morning dawned bright and early. Candy was more civil to her, and Parker didn’t know if it was simply because of Dean’s presence or because he took the girl aside while Parker wasn’t looking. Either way, the teenager unbent enough to ask that Parker make herself useful by reading lines with Candy after breakfast.
For two hours, while Dean closeted himself in his home office, Parker witnessed a miraculous transformation. With a script in her hand, Candy was an entirely different person. Dean was right. Candy took her acting career very seriously. She rehearsed the same scene over and over again until she was satisfied every nuance, every facial expression, every vocal note was as close to perfect as she could get. Then she did it again.
After lunch, Dean had Gordon drive Candy home, then take him and Parker back to Jersey. Parker urged Gordon to join them instead of waiting in the car
, thinking his presence would keep her mother’s upcoming lecture to a minimum. She knew she was wrong the moment Kelly Quinn pulled open the front door before Parker even rang the bell. Eyes glittering, her mother crossed her arms over her chest and Parker braced herself.
“Parker Amelia Quinn, why have you not answered your cell phone? I have been calling you since yesterday afternoon!”
“Uh, hi, Mom,” Parker said weakly, feeling like she’d gone back in time a couple of decades. “May we come in, please? I’d rather not do this on the porch. I think I saw the curtain in Mrs. Lewandowski’s living room twitch.”
With her expression promising more to come, Kelly stepped back and let them file in. Parker looked down the hall into the kitchen and saw her sister wave at her, then give a helpless shrug. No help coming from that quarter.
“You must be Dean Maxwell,” Kelly said, her tone soft and welcoming, unlike what she’d used on Parker. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my daughters.”
Daughters, Parker thought, plural. So Brenda had confessed her sins and, apparently, some of Parker’s, as well.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. Now I know where Parker got her looks.”
To Parker’s astonishment, her mother blushed. Had she giggled like a schoolgirl, Parker couldn’t have been more surprised.
“How nice of you to say that. And, please, call me Kelly.”
Dean introduced her to Gordon and Kelly, who appeared to be the newest member of the Dean Maxwell fan club, ushered them into the living room.
“I’ll go help Brenda in the kitchen,” Parker announced, and escaped into the other room. Savannah, looking like a confection in her orange, ruffled dress, was sitting on the floor with several Beanie toys scattered around her.
“Hi, pumpkin.” Parker got down on her knees and rubbed noses with her niece, who giggled and stretched out her arms to her aunt. Parker picked her up, straightened up and settled her on one hip.
“I don’t know if she’s being nice to him because she truly likes him or if she wants to punish us,” remarked Parker.
“Hmm.”
Brenda was fiddling with the arrangement of fruit on a tray like a misaligned cantaloupe slice would be a crime punishable by death.
“Are you done stalling?” Parker asked.
Brenda slanted her a glance. “Are you going to use my daughter as a shield?”
“If I can get away with it, yes,” she admitted baldly. Her voice softened. “How did it go yesterday?”
Brenda exhaled and, forgetting about the fruit tray, braced her hands on the edge of the counter. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected.” She bit down on a corner of her lip. “Mom yelled at me for not trusting her enough to tell her the truth at the beginning. I cried. She cried.” She smiled at her daughter. “Savannah heard us and cried along with us.”
Savannah slapped her hand over Parker’s mouth. Parker pressed a kiss into the soft palm, then blew softly into it, sending the little girl into a fit of giggles.
“Therapeutic?” asked Parker.
“Very.”
“And how much did you tell her about me?”
A sheepish expression crossed Brenda’s countenance. “Well, she wanted to know why I decided to fess up after all this time, so I…uh…I had to tell her about you and Dean.”
“You told her everything, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Brenda admitted, cringing away from Parker a little. “She didn’t stop until she got every detail out of me.”
“Of course.” Parker mentally sighed. “Let’s get out there before Mom comes looking for us.”
“Can I have my daughter back?”
“No. She’s mine until I leave,” said Parker, giving the little girl a squeeze. Savannah, however, started shoving at her chest and Parker set her on her feet. Savannah selected a small toy from the discarded masses, then trailed after her mother into the living room. Parker brought up the rear. Her mother was laughing when they entered the living room and Savannah ran up to her, stumbling when she drew near. Kelly caught her granddaughter before she hit the floor, smoothed down the skirt of her dress, and presented her to the two men.
“She doesn’t say a lot when there are new faces,” Kelly explained with a touch of chagrin when Savannah tried to hide behind her grandmother’s legs, her Beanie toy conveniently stuffed in her mouth. “She’s shy around new people, especially men.”
With all the single seats in the living room occupied, Parker sat down on the sofa next to Dean, who promptly shifted closer until his thigh pressed against hers, crowding her against the arm.
“Amelia?” he murmured in her ear, amusement in his tone.
“Call me Amelia at your own risk,” she warned him genially.
He had the audacity to chuckle, the sound too seductive to be heard in public. Parker caught her mother’s eye, saw the lifted eyebrow and felt heat slide up into her cheeks. Savannah, bless her heart, chose that moment to crash into her knees, climb into her lap and, just in case that wasn’t enough to draw Parker’s attention, bopped her on the head with the Beanie toy.
Parker looked in her mother’s direction. “Have you pried Dean’s life story out of him, yet?”
“Actually, we’ve been talking about you.”
“Have you?”
“Yes,” said Dean, sitting back and stretching his arm along the top of the sofa. “I’ve been telling her about how we met.” His fingers grazed her shoulder. The corners of his lips twitched. “She thinks you should’ve held out for more money.”
Chapter Nine
On Monday, Parker dressed in borrowed clothes and returned to work. Several people, including her traitorous administrative assistant, aimed knowing looks at her, but she couldn’t be bothered because Sunday had been a lazy affair, with Dean keeping her in bed until noon. Afterward, they’d showered, pulled on casual clothes and sensible shoes, left the apartment and crossed the avenue to stroll through the Central Park Zoo. Parker’s thoughts only strayed to the break-ins once, when Dean’s assistant called him to let him know the cleaning company was finished with Parker’s apartment and the contractors were ready to begin repair work. He’d hustled her back to his place and made love to her until she couldn’t remember her own name. When they came up for air and food, Gordon gave her the keys to her new locks.
As it was, everything still felt like it was happening to someone else and she almost didn’t tell her editor-in-chief. However, recalling her promise to her neighbor, Parker decided it would be prudent to inform her boss, who promptly offered to give her a few more days off. Parker declined, knowing work would help keep her mind occupied. Of course, it was difficult to focus on page layouts when every muscle in her body was pleasantly sore.
While she tried not to think about the ache between her legs, Parker’s telephone rang.
“I almost blew a two-hundred-and-fifty million dollar deal and it’s all your fault,” Dean growled in her ear.
“How is that my fault?”
“Meet me for lunch and I’ll show you.”
A delicious thrill shot through her and the hand wrapped around the receiver tightened. Under her desk, she squeezed her thighs together. “I can’t. I’m already meeting Deidre. I’m letting her go wild in the sample room.”
He cursed. “How long can that take?”
“You met Deidre,” remarked Parker dryly. “What do you think?”
He cursed again, impressing her with his fluency. He wore a suit to work, but it didn’t define or restrain him.
“What about afterward?”
“I still have forty-odd emails in my inbox. I can’t play hooky. And I promised to help Deidre carry her selections home. Remember?”
“What time are you leaving?”
“Early. Four, maybe four-thirty. Deidre’s going to leave and then come back.”
“Damn. I have a meeting until six today.”
“Do you want to eat in tonight?”
“Are you cooking?”
She made an amused sound. “Take out. I want to try that restaurant down the block, but I don’t want to get dressed up.”
“Sounds good. And I’ll send Gordon to your office building. He’ll drive you wherever you need to go after work.”
Gordon had driven her to work that morning, but the change in routine hadn’t made too much of an impression because Dean had been in the vehicle with her. A heaviness settled over her. “They’ve only been break-ins. And I don’t think someone’s going to try anything in broad daylight.”
“So far,” Dean added succinctly. “If Moore escalates, I don’t want you alone.”
“Deidre’ll be with me.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me.”
“All right, all right. I’ll let Gordon drive me.”
“You make it sound like I was giving you a choice.”
“You’re too used to getting your way.”
His voice lowered. “I’ll let you have your way with me in a few hours. You quite enjoyed being on top this morning.”
She actually shivered and dropped her forehead into her hand because her muscles felt like limp noodles. For a moment, she reconsidered his lunch invitation.
Then the fiend said, “I’ll leave you with that,” and hung up.
After dropping off the four carrier bags of clothes and accessories just inside Deidre’s apartment, Deidre followed Parker, who was armed with a pen and a used envelope, into hers. The place looked and felt bare. Not a lot of her possessions had escaped unscathed. Beating back anger that wouldn’t help her, Parker reminded herself they were just things and could be replaced.
The walls were dotted with patches of dried polyfill. The painters still had work to do. Maybe it was time for a new wall color, she thought as she went into the kitchen.
She still had most of the appliances in that room, but the glass-ceramic cook top on the stove needed to be replaced and her upper cupboards, like her refrigerator, were empty. Most of her cookware and utensils had been cleaned and returned to the drawers and lower cupboards.
