“Thank you.” She lifted an eyebrow, something she’d mastered at age seven after watching her father stare a minion into tears.
“James, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Harry said. “Parker, we’ll see you in there.”
“Okay,” she said, watching as Harry put his arm around James. The two men walked away, but James looked back. Held up his hand and mouthed, Five minutes.
The thing was, she knew how long five minutes could last.
“Parker, where have you been?” It was Aunt Vivian, and she was pissed. “Dinner is being served! Would you please come in here? It’s Esme’s special day. Would it kill you to remember that? Honestly.”
And so she ended up with the Coven, after all. The only person at the table with an empty chair next to her.
Five minutes became ten. Ten became twenty. Salad was served. “Isn’t Uncle Harry ever going to come over?” Esme whined. He was halfway across the room, glad-handing someone and roaring with laughter.
“Look at that lawyer of his,” Juliet said. “He’s such a social climber. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried sleeping with you, Parker.” The cousins burst into laughter, and Parker, who hadn’t cried for a long, long time, felt suddenly terrified that she was about to burst into tears.
“Would you please pass the butter, Regan?” she asked.
“Do you really think you need it?” Aunt Louise said, and Parker was actually grateful for the change in subject.
The five minutes had stretched into thirty-three.
She was an idiot.
Don’t say that, Parker, the Holy Rollers chimed. We think you’re really smart!
Not smart enough, apparently, to realize that she’d skipped happily into yet another cliché, even worse than Wedding Guest Picks Up Guy or Poor Little Rich Girl Feels So Alone. No, this one was worse. Juliet was absolutely right. This one was Guy Sleeps with Boss’s Daughter as Part of Plan to Move Up Corporate Ladder.
Idiot.
She spent forty-seven minutes at dinner, hoping her expression was pleasant, glancing over occasionally as her father worked the crowd.
Thing One stayed obediently at his side.
Then she texted her driver, went home, took a very hot shower and practically scrubbed off her skin with the loofah.
She got a text a little while later. You still around? Can’t seem to find you.
It was now one hundred and twenty-six minutes after the five he’d said. Well. Better to learn this now. She opted not to respond. Sat there and watched Dexter instead.
He called an hour later and left a message. “Hey, Parker, it’s James. Would you mind calling me? I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Talk to you later.”
Oh, yes, there’d been a misunderstanding. One hundred and twenty-six of them.
The next day, when Ethan dropped Nicky home, she asked him to stay for dinner before he had to head for the airport. No skipping the armor this time, because if Parker was right, Thing One was going to put in an appearance.
Ethan and Nicky were playing T-ball on the back lawn when James showed up. Parker watched through the window as he came up the long walk, flowers in hand. He ran a hand through his hair before ringing the doorbell.
She opened the door.
“Parker,” James said. “Always lovely to see you.” He paused. “Everything okay here?”
“Everything’s fine, Thing One. What brings you by?”
“Well, you disappeared before I could find you yesterday.” He held out the bouquet. Roses, irises, gerbera daisies and, smack in the middle, a package of Alka-Seltzer.
Damn. She’d been feeling a little polluted all day long.
“Listen, James,” she said, shooting for cool but not icy. Icy would imply that she was hurt. “I’m very sorry that I overindulged yesterday and, ah, jumped you. It won’t happen again.”
“Parker—”
“It won’t happen again. I’m actually embarrassed, and I apologize for my behavior.”
“You—”
“Unfortunately, we’re about to eat dinner. So. I guess I’ll see you the next time Harry tells you to come by.”
Thing One’s smile was gone. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t get to—”
“It’s fine. I understand. You have certain duties. It was a business event for you.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I get to say anything here?” he asked.
“I’d rather you got in your car and left, to be completely honest.”
“Because if I did get to say something,” he went on, “I’d say I’d like to see you again, take you to dinner, get to know you better.”
She could picture it. He’d woo her or whatever, smile his crinkly smile, make her fall for him, then, as soon as humanly possible, ask Harry if he’d give his blessing, which Harry would certainly give. Finally, a son. He and James would play golf together on the weekends and be masters of the universe during the week, because sure, James would get promoted—you don’t bag the boss’s daughter and not move up to Senior Vice President, after all. James would be an official prince in Harry’s kingdom, wouldn’t have to work so hard to impress her father, not as the son-in-law, no, sir. All James would have to do would be to shag her once in a while, father a kid or two, and he could kick back and relax, his future assured.
“What do you say?” he asked when she remained silent.
Much to her surprise, Parker felt the sting of tears in the back of her eyes. “No, thank you, James.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged and looked past him. “I’m your boss’s daughter.”
“Yes, I remember.”
She snapped her gaze back to him. “So, if you think you’re going to get closer to him by screwing me, you’re wrong.”
His eyebrows rose. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“No, of course not.”
“If you recall, you kissed me first.”
“Yes, I recall, James. I also recall three very strong and delicious martinis, okay? I wish it hadn’t happened, and I’m promising you, it won’t happen again.”
James opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, Nicky came careening into the foyer. “Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Can I have some Goldfish? The eating kind?” Then he noticed James in the doorway, the flowers still in his hand. “Hewwo,” he said, not having mastered the L sound just yet.
Parker didn’t answer, just put her hand on Nicky’s head.
James dragged his gaze off her and looked at her son. “Hi, Nick.”
“You remember Grandpa Harry’s lawyer, right?” Parker said. Because that’s all you’re ever going to be in this house, pal.
Ethan joined the little crowd. “Hey, how you doing, James?” he said. The men shook hands. Ethan looked at the flowers, still in Thing One’s hand, then at Parker’s face. “Nicky, let’s go throw rocks in the water, okay, buddy?”
Parker cleared her throat. “No, that’s okay, Ethan. He was just leaving. Drive safely, James.”
“Dwive safewy, James,” Nicky echoed.
James looked at her another second or two. “Okay. Enjoy your night.”
There was a lump in Parker’s throat as she closed the door. She was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Nicky, can you go get me a grape?” Ethan asked.
“Sure, Daddy!” Nicky said, racing off to the kitchen.
Parker looked at Ethan, forced a smile.
“Flowers, huh?” he said, leaning in the doorway.
“Yep. You know. Kissing up to the boss’s daughter. So is salmon okay? I thought I’d grill it, make a salad. Or we could have what the chef left on Friday. Just need to heat it up.”
“You want to talk?”
“About what?”
“About the fact that James brought you flowers and you pretty much set the dogs on him?”
“I don’t have dogs.”
“Come on, Parker.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about.”
“You sure?”
“Heck yeah.”
Ethan gave her a long look but said nothing more.
She spent the next week on edge, waiting for something that never came. James never called her. Never emailed, texted or dropped by. He followed instructions, in other words; proof that she was right—he wasn’t going to get anywhere by being with her. If he really wanted something different—not that he actually did, but if—he would’ve surely tried again.
But he didn’t. She saw him a few months later, when, instructed by Harry, he dropped by with some mutual-fund papers she needed to sign.
He never mentioned anything about their hookup.
And even though it was what she’d asked for, it was oddly disappointing.
CHAPTER TEN
PARKER WAS SHOWERING. Not ten feet from his bedroom, Parker Welles was na**d and wet.
Okay. Probably not the most productive way to start the day. She’d already blown him off in spectacular fashion once in his life. But she was na**d and wet and near, so these thoughts were apparently unavoidable.
Since yesterday, when she accepted that she really did need some help here, Parker had been very civilized, oh, yes. She always was. Nope, he was not allowed to see behind the curtain, as it were.
Except for that one time at her cousin’s wedding. Damn. When she’d leaned in and kissed him on those stairs, he actually froze for a second, convinced he was hallucinating the whole thing. But no. The memory of what had followed would live on the trophy shelf of James’s mind till the day he died.
And afterward, when he was convinced she was having not only second thoughts, but third, fourth and fifth thoughts, too, she agreed to hang out with him. She kissed him on the cheek. Which, in its own way, meant more than even the unbelievable shag.
Then he’d run smack into Harry at the base of the stairs. Hey, Harry, I just finished doing your daughter. How’s it going?
So what was he supposed to do?
He figured he’d take his lead from Parker, and she’d been her usual frosty self with Harry. Then Harry had taken him off to meet some Rhode Island senator, and yeah, maybe it had been more than a few minutes. But he hadn’t expected her to bolt, either. Texted her, got no answer. Maybe something had come up with her kid. But Harry was power-drinking and, as usual, wanted company. James called Parker; no answer. When Harry insisted on going back to the city because of a Sunday-morning brunch he couldn’t miss, James went with him, knowing his boss was sloppy, feeling that mix of pity and love he always did when Harry overindulged. And now, maybe, he was taking care of not only his boss, but of Parker’s father. Drove all the way back to Rhode Island so he could see her the next day.
Whereupon he’d gone over with flowers and found that he’d become dog shit. Then again, he may well have been dog shit all along. He might’ve just been the guy picked up by the bridesmaid. No one could measure up to the Paragon, after all. A point driven home by the fact that Parker had the guy right there in the house with her.
Not that James really wanted to try to measure up. He’d never pictured himself married, never wanted kids. But the first time he’d ever seen Parker Harrington Welles, staring at her baby as if no one on earth had ever had a baby before, her face so rapt and gentle…something had sneaked up on him in that moment and sucker punched him and reminded him of what he didn’t have, and hadn’t had for a long time.
Somebody to love.
He loved Mary Elizabeth, of course. But that was different.
Then, at The Wedding, he’d felt it again, that sucker punch when she kissed him on the cheek, a moment of believing that Parker…well. Whatever. She didn’t. She’d made that abundantly clear.
So why was he lying in bed, thinking about her? Because he was an idiot, that was why.
