Lone Star Wedding (16 page)

Hannah cringed, hoping Parker didn't use the old “as long as you're in my house you'll do as I say” spiel.

“Reed.” Hannah thought Parker's voice sounded steadier. “Wait. Please.”

“I don't have to wait. I go where I want when I want.”

The door was yanked open and Hannah came face-to-face with a teenager who appeared hellbent on getting out
of there. He was tall and lanky, his hair dark and chin-length, his shirt and jeans baggy. His scowl was a dead ringer for Parker's.

“Hello,” she said. “May I come in?”

“I wouldn't recommend it.”

Oh, yes, that snide sarcasm was definitely a Malone trait. She stepped over the threshold, and took it upon herself to close the door behind her. Two pairs of eyes were suddenly on her, giving her a thorough once-over. Parker's mouth went slack, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of understanding. It made the short, succinct cussword he uttered unnecessary.

His hair was unnaturally unruly, as if he'd raked his fingers through it repeatedly. The top two buttons of his shirt were open, the collar slightly askew. He looked as if he'd already been put through the wringer, which meant she probably wasn't going to have to do it again.

“God. The symphony.”

“I take it you forgot,” she said.

A hand went to his forehead. “You could say something came up.”

Looking from one to the other, she could well imagine what that something was. “Has this argument been going on for a while?”

The boy eyed her suspiciously before nodding.

Just in case Parker was about to say something that would undoubtedly start it back up again, Hannah held the boy's gaze and said, “Did I hear you say you want to go out for fast food?”

When he nodded a second time, she said, “Does that mean you're hungry?”

Parker swore under his breath. “Oh, hell. I forgot about supper. Reed, you're hungry.”

“Yeah, so?” He turned his attention back to Hannah. “Who are you?”

“Reed, your manners.”

Hannah glanced from the boy to the man. Parker's lips had thinned, his eyes had narrowed, his nostrils flared slightly. “This is Hannah Cassidy.”

“Is she your—”

Parker interrupted. “She's my—”

“Friend,” Hannah interjected. “Your uncle Parker and I are friends.” She held out her hand. The boy took it firmly, if somewhat reluctantly, in his.

“It's nice to meet you, Reed. Parker and I could probably fix something suitable.”

The boy shook his head, his hair swinging into his eyes. “On Saturday night? I'm gonna have pizza at Brad's house.”

“Brad who?” Parker asked.

“Is this a knock-knock joke?”

Hannah wouldn't have wanted to be on the other end of Parker's quelling glare. Reed appeared completely unaffected. He shrugged one bony shoulder, and finally answered. “Brad Taylor.”

“Where does he live?”

Reed released a long-suffering sigh, but again he answered Parker's question, as well as the next three concerning whether or not Brad's parents were going to be home. “Can I go, now?”

Parker nodded. “Call when you get there, and be home by eleven.”

“Yeah, right.” And then, with the shock of disbelief, “You're kidding!”

“I never kid.”

“Eleven o'clock? Nothing even starts to get interesting until twelve.”

“Eleven o'clock, Reed. I used my influence with the judge this time. If there's a next time, it isn't going to matter if you have connections to the president of the United States. How do you plan to get there and back?”

“Ever heard of the bus?”

The Malones faced off. Hannah would have been hard-pressed to say whose glare was more withering and whose stare more frigid. As if he realized Parker wasn't going to back down, Reed turned away. He didn't say another word. He probably figured the hard slam he gave the door said enough.

Swearing under his breath, Parker aimed the remote control at the blaring television and punched the power button. The musicians disappeared through a thin line down the center of the large screen.

Hannah faced Parker in the ensuing silence.

“I prepared myself for several different scenarios,” she said quietly. “This wasn't one of them.”

Parker shouldn't have been surprised at the thrum of desire that went through him. The mere thought of Hannah had brought it about when he'd least expected all day long. So it stood to reason it would happen to him at the sight of her in the flesh. He swallowed, and tried to rotate a kink out of his back between his shoulder blades.

It had been a hell of a day. He'd gotten some disturbing news concerning Sophia Fortune's latest demands regarding her divorce. He'd called an emergency meeting with Dale Minskie, the sharp, young attorney who loved nothing better than going for the jugular. They were already putting a plan into action, but it was damned complicated. To top it all off, Adalaide was out with the flu, and nobody else in the office could find a damn thing. The visions that had been filtering through his mind of Hannah's kiss-swollen mouth and lush breasts, and the memory of her
husky sighs and moans of pleasure hadn't helped his concentration in the least.

And then Beth had called. She was in trouble, she'd said. More specifically, Reed was. He'd been caught with a group of boys who had been accused of shoplifting. Although Reed didn't have any of the stolen items on him, his was a guilt by association. He'd said he didn't take anything, and Parker wanted to believe him. But he just didn't know. The owner of the store had agreed not to press charges this time, but Beth was frantic with worry. She said he needed a firm hand. A man's firm hand. Which left either Parker or J.D. Since she hadn't spoken with their father in years, she'd called Parker. The kid had only been here for three hours and already Parker wanted to throttle him.

Beth had said Reed was going through a difficult phase. Impossible was more like it. The kid could go from sullen to argumentative in the blink of an eye. For the past three hours, he'd exposed Parker to a huge dose of the latter. Hannah had waltzed in and diffused the situation. In the wake of so much noise, the house seemed strangely silent. Blessedly silent. Parker hoped he hadn't made a mistake by letting Reed go out tonight. But a time limit had been set, and peace had been restored, at least temporarily.

“Hear that?” he asked.

She listened intently, then shook her head.

“Silence. How did you do that?” he asked.

She shrugged, and looked up at him as if soft-touched thoughts were shaping her smile for him alone. “Some people are just natural born peacemakers.”

A rush of sexual desire flooded into him. Keeping the peace wasn't all that came naturally to her. “You should be angry with me,” he declared.

She sauntered closer. “What makes you think I'm not?”

Her smile shimmered over him. It was soft and sweet, the kind of smile that could light up a dark corner. The kind of smile that made a man yearn to come home. The kind of smile that made him decidedly ill at ease.

“If you're angry,” he said, keeping a tight rein on his senses, “you're doing an impressive job of covering it up.”

“You had good reason to forget our date, Parker. If you'd like me to punish you for it, I could probably think of something.”

His thoughts took a slow dive into a wave of desire that made itself known in extremely telling ways. He'd noticed that she was dressed up the moment she set foot in his house. Now, he took the time to appreciate her appearance. Her dress was the color of dark mahogany, the fabric some sort of knit that fit her to perfection without being tight. The skirt was full enough to swirl around her legs, the hem scalloped slightly around her ankles. Her only jewelry was a pair of amber earrings. Her eyelids were tinted, her lips colored with shiny gloss, her hair fastened high on the back of her head with an amber-colored clip.

“Well?” she asked.

“Did you say ‘punish'?”

She sauntered closer. “I was thinking that there might be some sort of torture I could inflict on you. Water torture comes to mind. Or perhaps you have a ticklish spot.”

Withstanding that provocative smile of hers was torture in itself, the sultry heat in her eyes nearly his undoing. Something restless and unwelcome stirred inside him. Extenuating circumstances aside, Parker had stood Hannah up. Okay, he'd had good reasons. A damn good excuse. Truth be told, he wasn't certain he wouldn't have come up with an excuse to cancel their date anyway. All because of something she'd said last night. She'd mentioned a boy
she'd loved in college. It wasn't that Parker cared that she'd been in love. It was just that her mention of the sentiment drove home the fact that she believed in love, in happily ever after. In forever.

He didn't want to hurt her, didn't want her to set her sights on him. He didn't want to be held accountable for anybody's broken heart.

“Are you sorry, Parker?”

He sucked in a sharp breath when her hand glided to his arm. He didn't follow the question. Was he sorry he'd stood her up? Or sorry she was here? He made a noise deep in his throat, part groan, pure frustration. His nerves were shot. Hell, he had kinks in his neck he'd never had before.

“Reed's only been here for three hours, and I've already turned into my father.”

She smiled, moving her hand up his arm. “How old is he?”

“Almost fifteen. But he acts five one minute, thirty the next.”

Hannah wondered if Parker was aware that he was staring deep into her eyes, mesmerized, it seemed. She also wondered if the hand gliding to her shoulder stemmed from a conscious decision on his part, or from a need to touch her. At this point, it didn't matter. She reveled in the heat in his palm either way.

“He sounds normal for a boy his age,” she whispered.

His eyelids lowered, along with his voice as he said, “He was born hardheaded and stubborn. Cried for the first six months of his life. Beth says he went straight from colic to the terrible twos. He hit puberty on a run. Which is pretty much the M.O. for all Malones.”

Was he trying to warn her, or scare her? She thought about suggesting that if he wanted to do either of those
things in the future, he shouldn't attempt to do it while skimming a thumb over her nipple, which had puckered noticeably through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Do you think he'll be home at eleven?” she asked.

“I haven't a clue.”

“What will you do if he isn't?”

“I'll blow up that bridge when I get there.” His voice was husky, his eyes glazed with need.

“Kiss me, Parker.”

“I shouldn't.”

“Then allow me.”

She went up on tiptoe, her mouth covering his in a deep, searing kiss that made the room spin, and her in it. Parker took it from there. He slanted his mouth at an angle to gain better access. She gave herself up to the kiss, welcoming, accepting the thrust of his tongue. The moment the kiss ended, he hauled her against him, as if he couldn't go another moment without full body contact.

“You look beautiful in that dress.” He whispered the words between kisses placed along her shoulder, the little hollowed curve where her shoulder met her neck.

“Parker?” she whispered.

“Yes?” His voice was at one with the rasp her zipper made as he lowered it slowly down her back.

“I was just wondering…”

His fingers spread wide across the skin he'd bared on her lower back.

“…If you think I'm beautiful in this dress, why are you removing it?”

He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze as he slipped first one and then the other strap from her shoulders. The top of the dress glided gracefully to her waist. He didn't answer her question. At least not with words. His answer
was in the heat in his eyes as his gaze trailed along her chin, her neck, her bare breasts.

When his hands covered her breasts, she gave in to the need swirling around her, through her. Starting a slow exploration of her own, she found that she didn't need words. Her eyes closed, her head tipped back, and she sighed. Words were highly overrated, but touch, and feel, and smell, and taste, those were heady sensations. And she needed those very much.

It seemed that Parker needed them, too.

She didn't let on, but she'd seen his expression when she'd first walked through the door. She wasn't so sure he would have shown up for their date even if Reed hadn't suddenly needed Parker's help. It wasn't because Parker didn't care for her. The warmth and tenderness in his hands, in his eyes, in his sighs, was too spontaneous to be anything but honest. Oh, he wanted her. She had a feeling he didn't like that very well, but he couldn't seem to help himself. Parker Malone was accustomed to being in control. A man like him wouldn't take kindly to losing all control to love. A man like him would fight it. But he wasn't fighting this.

“Parker?” she whispered, strolling a half step behind him as he led her, hand in hand, to his bedroom.

“Yes?” he whispered in the doorway.

“How long is Reed going to be staying with you?”

He reached up with deft fingers, plucking the clasp from her hair. “Two or three weeks,” he said as her heavy hair cascaded down her neck. “A month at the most.”

“Oh,” she said, slipping out of her shoes.

“Why?” His shirt was open, his belt unfastened.

She decided they'd talked enough. Pressing her body against his, she whispered, “I was just wondering.”

She'd fallen in love last night before she'd taken him to
her bed. In the process, she'd discovered that he was worth the risk to her heart. It was up to her to prove to him that she was worth the risk to his.

He was going to need help with his nephew, there was no doubt about that. Ah-hh. Her head lolled back at the delicious things he was doing to her body. It looked as if she was going to have two or three weeks, a month at the most, to show Parker, over and over again, if necessary, that when two people were in love, forever was possible. When two people were in love, everything was possible.