Parker’s Price (5 page)

But she’d never taken the easy way out before and she couldn’t start now.

Parker uncurled her fingers and inched away from him, putting distance between their bodies. He tensed momentarily and she hugged herself tightly, refusing to meet his gaze. After a moment, they started walking again, silence and distance stretching between them.

Gordon and another man, presumably the locksmith, were sitting in the Maybach parked two doors down from Parker’s converted brownstone. As they neared her home, Parker glanced up at Dean, saw the line of his tight jaw and decided her parting words could wait until later.

The twenty-something locksmith emerged from the sedan, dressed like he’d been attending a backyard barbeque in a yellow T-shirt, khaki knee-length shorts and black flip flops. With metal tool case in hand, he introduced himself, grinned more widely at Parker than at Dean and followed them to Parker’s door.

Dean stood by, looking a little menacing, as the younger man replaced the entry lock and deadbolt. Parker patted Dean’s chest and none-too-discreetly pushed him aside to give the younger man sufficient working room. Dean captured her hand and didn’t let it go. He drew her against him and, telling herself she didn’t want to create a scene, she went. Pressed up against him, she felt some of the tension leave his body.

A short time later, job complete, the locksmith pocketed the cash Dean handed over despite Parker’s protests.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done that,” Parker said after the locksmith took off.

Dean stood in the doorway, hands braced on either side of the jamb. “It was more for my peace of mind.” He leaned in closer. “If you want, I’ll add it to your tab.”

“You’re expecting way too much out of one date.”

“A guy can hope.”

“You don’t rely on hope. You plan and manipulate until you get your way.”

Instead of being offended, a half-smile lifted his lips. His head lowered, coming closer to hers, and Parker stopped breathing, her lips seeming to throb with anticipation. God, she was weak. She slid her hands into her back pockets to keep from reaching for him. However, like he did the previous night, Dean only pressed his lips into her hair.

“I’ll be seeing you.”

As he turned and went down the steps, Parker shivered, not sure if his words had been a promise or a threat.

She closed the door firmly and used her shiny, new locks. Leaning against the door, she scanned her tiny apartment. The darkness was relieved by the glass lamp on the side table. Her eyes moved inevitably to the bedroom door, then skittered away.

Get a grip, Quinn.

Parker pushed herself away from the door and headed for the bathroom, shedding her clothes along the way. Naked, she whipped back the filmy shower curtain and stepped into the claw-footed, porcelain tub. She took her time in the shower, going so far as to buff herself from neck to toe, and wrapped herself in a worn terrycloth robe when she finished. Barefoot, she walked to her bedroom, wrapped her fingers around the doorknob, took a breath, turned her wrist and shoved the door wide open. Nothing jumped out at her.

A laugh escaped her, the quick sound a little relieved, a little hysterical.

She was losing it. The exhaustion from work had driven her batty.

The door hit the doorstop and bounced back. She put up a hand to stop it before it smacked her in the face.

Parker went to the highboy standing in the corner and pulled out her underwear drawer. She dug through a mixed pile of underwear, searching for the cotton bikinis with the polar bear print. She had a matching nightie. Not that she would wear it to sleep. She preferred to sleep in the nude, but she enjoyed lounging around in sleepwear for a couple of hours before stripping and crawling into bed.

After the third time through the underwear drawer and she still hadn’t located the panties, Parker decided she didn’t have to match, grabbed another pair, and pulled them on. She pulled open the drawer directly below, but she didn’t spot the pale purple nightie. She knew the items weren’t in the laundry hamper because she’d put everything in the washing machine yesterday and the hamper was empty.

Parker raked her damp hair back from her face, rolled up the sleeves of her bathrobe and set to work. Half an hour later, she knew she was missing one bra, three thongs, two bikini panties and two nightgowns. Since she rarely wore them, she didn’t care about the bra, but what kind of thief would steal only undergarments and sleepwear?

A shudder ran through her as her stomach roiled, making her feel queasy. Parker hurried into bathroom, came back with the hamper and emptied the drawer into it. She was probably overreacting, but her skin crawled at the thought of letting those clothes touch it after a stranger had pawed through them.

After she got the washing machine going, Parker rechecked the new locks on her door. They were shiny and heavy and clicked into place with a solid sound. They should’ve been reassuring, but that unsteady feeling remained. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes—and Dean Maxwell’s face formed in her mind’s eye.

Parker cursed softly.

“Your admin assistant said I could wait in your office.”

Parker froze at the sound of the deep voice that had haunted her dreams for the better part of last night. And tried to convince herself alarm made her heartbeat pick up.

She stared at the man lounging comfortably in the ergonomic swivel chair behind her desk. Very carefully, she closed her office door, but she didn’t move away from it. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. She needed a few more days to dull the memory of him. The sound of mocking laughter rang in a distant corner of her brain.

Parker gathered the files in her hand against her chest like a shield. As if that would protect her from Dean Maxwell. Or, if she was brutally honest, from herself and those tingling sensations spreading underneath her skin at the mere sight of him.

“I need a new assistant,” she said, proud her voice didn’t waver.

“You need a break.” He rose from her chair like some sleek, predatory animal. His Italian-cut charcoal suit emphasized the long lines of his body, the broad shoulders that shouldn’t belong to a man who owned his own stock brokerage firm. Suddenly, her generous corner office seemed too small, too enclosed. Perhaps open office floor plans weren’t such a bad idea, after all. Other people in sight would probably stop her from visualizing what Dean Maxwell would look like without his clothes.

Maybe.

“Your boss told me that you’ve been working eighty-hour weeks for the last two months because of the auction. She and I both think you deserve a break before you burn out.”

“I’m fine,” Parker insisted, clutching the files more tightly, trying to banish the picture of him
sans
clothes from her head. “Nothing a little white wine and chocolate can’t fix.”

He came to a stop a mere two feet in front of her. With his forefinger and middle finger, he tipped her chin up. A corner of his mouth kicked up wickedly, as if he knew she was mentally undressing him. “My face is up here.”

Hers flushed with embarrassment, but it galvanized Parker into sidestepping around him. She forced herself to take measured steps until she placed her desk between them. He chuckled as he turned to visually track her progress across the room.

“White wine and chocolate are better when shared,” he said, casually slipping one hand into his pants pocket, taking a couple of steps in her direction. “And you owe me a date.”

“Yesterday didn’t count?”

“No.”

“Why don’t I write you a check for the amount of the bid?”

He shook his head. “You tried a variation of that already. It doesn’t work that way.”

And she’d bet he knew exactly which way it would work.

Oh, Jesus.

Parker discreetly swallowed. Very carefully, she placed the files on her desk and reminded herself that getting involved with the man before her would be a mistake she couldn’t afford. Not only would it be a mistake, but a betrayal of her sister and her niece.

New resolve stiffening her spine, she looked up at him. “Why are you interested in a woman who doesn’t want anything to do with you?” she queried coolly.

He froze, those blue eyes flaring with something volatile. A frisson of fear shot through her and a small voice urged her to flee. But Parker stayed put, telling herself that he couldn’t do anything to her in her office, not with thirty or so people just outside her door.

When he stalked across the room and around her desk, she found herself cornered. His thighs pinned her hips to her desk as he loomed over her, his heat surrounding her, mingling with hers to send waves of sensation curling through her. Breathing too fast, Parker braced her arms behind her on the desk and turned her head to the side. But she didn’t tell him to step back because she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs.

A large, masculine hand rasped over the skin of her throat, cupped the back of her head and made her face him. His head descended. When she tried to pull back, his fingers tightened in warning. Then his lips were on hers.

Inside her head, Parker made a helpless sound, knowing that if she stopped fighting for even a single heartbeat, she’d be lost.

The mouth under his remained unresponsive and frustration fanned the flames of his anger. He hardened the kiss to the point of bruising. He pried her lips open and thrust his tongue inside the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. He ground his lower body into her belly, then ran a large palm down her subtly arched body, molding her to him, cushioning all his hard planes and hollows with her softness.

Parker made a muffled sound of protest, but Dean didn’t allow it to deter him. Instead, one hand slid up and covered her breast.

And he nearly came.

She was braless and the soft fabric of her dress was hardly a barrier. Her nipple budded instantly beneath his palm and he squeezed. He shoved a hard thigh between hers, and the next noise she made was of surrender.

Parker dug the fingertips of one hand into his side, crumpling his jacket. She used her hold to both pull him impossibly closer and steady herself as she rose onto her tiptoes. Understanding more than he would’ve liked, Dean found the hem of her short, black dress and ran his hands underneath. Her textured nylons gave way to soft, smooth skin mid-thigh. He flexed his fingers and found satisfaction in the tightening of her arm about his waist. He cupped her bare buttocks and lifted her onto the edge of her desk, her dress rucked up about her waist. Her whimper became a gasp, making his erection strain painfully against his trousers.

Dean broke the kiss. Parker protested, her hands clutching at his shoulders, his neck, trying to pull him back down, but he wouldn’t comply. Not yet. Impatiently he shoved the files and laptop to the side and, with one hand on her shoulder, he urged her to lie back on the hard surface of the desk. He grasped her knees, spread her legs apart and was instantly between them again, making her gasp and moan as he rubbed himself against her covered sex.

He found her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue deeply and repeatedly in an imitation of what he was doing to her with his lower body. She squirmed beneath him, seeking more, and fierce satisfaction tore through his body. His hands found her hips, his fingers curled around the elastic band of her thong—

Someone knocked at the door. Loudly, insistently.

Dean went still as fury roared through him. He lifted his mouth up from Parker’s and glared at the door. “Go away,” he growled.

There was awkward, embarrassed silence on the other side of the door, followed by a mumbled string of words that might’ve been an apology and footsteps hurrying away.

Dean turned back to woman underneath him—and found himself wanting to track down and strangle whomever had interrupted them. Parker’s head was turned to the side and her hands had released him. Her breathing was still shallow and her pulse racing madly, but her body language was loud and clear.

His expression dark, he thrust his fingers into her hair, loosening her chignon even more, and forced her to face him. “Don’t ever lie to me,” he said fiercely. “You want me just as much as I want you.”

Her kiss-reddened lips pursed, but she only closed her eyes against him, shutting him out.

Anger heated his blood once more. He could seduce her again and have her begging him to take her in under five minutes, but he had other plans.

Stifling a groan, he lifted himself off her and straightened up. He grasped her hands and pulled her up and to her feet. He smiled grimly when she had to lean back against her desk to stay upright.

He straightened his own clothes, then helped Parker smooth down her dress, his hands lingering on her hips, the swell of her bottom. While he re-knotted his tie, she pulled a compact and brush from a drawer and attempted to repair her makeup and hair.

“We’re going for lunch,” he announced when she snapped her compact shut. “Take your purse.”

She looked at him steadily, composure mended. “It’s almost two o’clock.”

“Yes, and I bet you worked through lunch.”

One of her shoulders lifted in a shrug, silently acknowledging his words. She exhaled softly. “Would this qualify for the date I owe you?”

He deliberately hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

Her gaze turned wary. “Really?”

He nodded. “You come with me now and I’ll consider your end of the bargain fulfilled.”

“Oh-kay.” She sounded hesitant and still looked like she was waiting for a trap to spring.

Dean allowed himself the merest hint of satisfaction. Just a little while longer and Parker Quinn would be without a single escape route. Then he was going to do his damnedest to convince her escape from him was the last thing she wanted.

Dean Maxwell was up to something. Parker knew it. She just didn’t know what that something was.

She gazed at the steel, glass and concrete jungle passing by outside the window, very aware of the man sprawled on the seat beside her as Gordon, who Dean had finally formally introduced her to, expertly maneuvered the ultra-luxurious sedan through the heavy Manhattan traffic.

“Do you ever wear anything besides black?” he asked.

“Black is slimming,” she said without looking at him. “And it’s never out of fashion.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, you don’t need any more slimming. A good wind would blow you away.”

She stiffened, then faced him over one shoulder and drawled, “If you want someone with some…vavoom, I can set up several introductions.”

He lifted a brow. “You wouldn’t mind me being with another woman?”

Something dark and heavy and more than just unpleasant slammed painfully into her chest, making it hard to breathe. Was she jealous?

Parker deliberately backed away from that dangerous edge and told herself she had no right to be jealous. If Dean Maxwell fell into bed with another woman, did all the things to the other woman that he’d done to her and more, she had no right to want to viciously yank out every strand of hair on the other woman’s head.

“It wouldn’t be any of my business,” she said finally, the words a little hollow.

“It should be,” he said, his smooth voice low and intense and too serious by far. “If you were with another man, I’d mind to the point of breaking a few bones.”

Without waiting for her response, he bent and opened the refrigerator compartment, pulled out a bottle of water, and offered it to her. When Parker shook her head, Dean untwisted the cap and drank from it himself.

Parker reluctantly tore her eyes away from the ripple of his throat muscles and went back to the world outside the sedan. After a few minutes, the streets and avenues started registering. They were leaving Manhattan.

“Where are we going for lunch? Jersey?”

“We’re going to make a stop in Jersey.”

“Why are we driving to Jersey?” she asked, failing to conceal her alarm.

“Because I made lunch reservations on an island in the Bahamas and my jet’s at Teterboro.”

She whipped her head around to stare at him. “
What?
Are you insane? I can’t just take off like this. Unlike you, I’m not my own boss.”

“No, I’m not insane, though you have been driving me crazy since I first laid eyes on you,” he pointed out calmly. “And yes, you can just take off like this. I cleared it with your boss. We have her blessings.”

Anger stole her voice.

“I’ve taken care of everything,” he continued. “All you have to do is sit back and enjoy the trip.”

“This is kidnapping!” she finally burst out.

“You agreed to go for lunch.”

She nearly sputtered. “Yes! Here—in New York City!”

“For the check I wrote, I want more than an hour of your time,” he explained easily, as if they were discussing something as prosaic as the weather.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And just how long is this trip supposed to be?”

“Six days.”

“No,” she stated emphatically, shaking her head. “Unless you bind me hand and foot and carry me aboard your plane, I’m not getting on.”

Blue eyes glittered, and for a beat Parker thought he was going to whip out a pair of handcuffs. Then he blinked, and the moment passed.

“Six days,” he said, his voice low and even. “That’s all I’m asking of you. Give me six days and if after that you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Indecision swirled through her. Indecision and excitement. Parker squeezed her eyes shut. She could ignore him for six days. Six days wasn’t that long. She just had to remember Savannah.

“Who’s Savannah?” Dean asked.

Parker’s eyes flew open. She’d apparently murmured Savannah’s name aloud. Her mind raced quickly for a response. “Savannah’s my niece. I promised her I’d visit her on Sunday.”

It was the truth. She did have an unspoken agreement to visit her family every Sunday.

“I’ll make sure you’re back in time,” he reassured.

Parker was already shaking her head. Before she could voice another protest, Dean captured her wrist and, like she weighed no more than a child, pulled her across the backseat until her knee bumped his, but not into his arms. Instead, he cupped the back of her head, messing her hair yet again, as his own descended. Parker tried to twist away, but he didn’t release her. However, neither did he try to kiss her.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “Say yes,” he coaxed softly, his breath stirring the fine hairs above her ear. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want to happen.”

And that was the problem, Parker thought, her lashes lowering again, as if to better savor the sensations he stirred within her.

“I won’t lay a hand on you if you don’t want me to,” he continued in that low, rumbling voice. He nuzzled her ear, taking the soft, fleshy lobe between his teeth. Parker inhaled sharply. Then he bit down with exquisite care. A fine shudder ran the length of her body. “Please.”

Her hands came up and braced against his shoulders. She took a trembling breath. “If I agree, you have to let me go.” Another breath. “Now.”

He stiffened. And a part of Parker wanted him to disregard her condition, take the choice away from her. The moment passed and he drew back, pressed a hard kiss on her lips and set her away from him.