Lone Star Wedding. Sandra Steffen
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their bodies touched ever so lightly.
Her hands found their way to him, one inching up to his shoulder, the other spreading wide over his chest. He made a sound deep in his throat, and his heart raced beneath her palm.
Parker had always had a good imagination. God knew, it had been working overtime this past week, but imagery couldn’t hold a candle to the jolt of excitement that had begun to pulse through him the moment his lips touched Hannah’s.
She sighed, her long, lean body going fluid against his. Her three-inch heels made her the perfect height for kissing. Her waist fit his hands, the flare of her hips enticing him to explore. A few moments ago the garden had seemed idyllically private. Suddenly it wasn’t nearly private enough.
Music played from the other side of the courtyard. A bed of tall ornamental grasses blocked them from view of the others. Another shudder went through him, want and need melding, burrowing deep inside him.
“I don’t want to stop.” His voice was a rasp in the semi-darkness. “But we have to, at least for now.”
Hannah came to her senses slowly. She glanced nervously around, relieved to find them alone, the shadow of an old sweet gum tree on one side, tall grasses swaying in the breeze on the other. She placed her hands on her cheeks and took a backward step.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“I disagree.”
No doubt. She had to think, and it wasn’t easy to do with him standing there looking at her. “In a sense, you’re the enemy.”
“If you’d care to explain, I’m all ears.”
He wasn’t really, she thought. He was all shoulders and planes and angles and…
He slid a hand into the pocket of his dress slacks, the action drawing attention to a place she really shouldn’t be looking. She glanced up at his face, only to find herself staring at the cleft in his chin. For heaven’s sake, did everything about him have to be riveting?
Taking control of her senses, she said, “I’ve overheard bits and pieces of several conversations tonight, and the general consensus around here seems to be that you don’t want Ryan to see my mother. Something tells me it isn’t a moral issue with you.”
“At least you’re not blinded by my brains and good looks.”
He was very good at deprecating humor. If this had been a laughing matter she would have smiled. “At least it hasn’t gone to your head.”
“That isn’t what’s gone to my head, Hannah.”
She had absolutely nothing to say to that. Thankfully, footsteps sounded on the garden path, and she was saved from having to try to reply.
“Hannah, there you are.” It was her mother. “Oh, hello, Parker. Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes,” Parker said.
“No,” Hannah said at the same time.
“I see.”
“Parker and I have been talking. I was just telling him that neither Cole nor I will try to influence you when it comes to your relationship with Ryan. I didn’t have a chance to tell him how I feel about prenuptial agreements. Perhaps you’d like to enlighten him.”
“Parker’s just doing his job, dear.”
It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Hannah or Parker, but it was Hannah who said, “You’re defending him?”
Lily looked at Parker, but spoke to her daughter. “I believe Parker has Ryan’s best interests at heart. Ryan trusts him, and Ryan doesn’t trust just anybody.”
Parker found himself at a rare loss for words. He was accustomed to receiving respect when he earned it, but there was compassion in Lily’s expression, too. It left him feeling raw, as if something was missing from his life. It made him uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as unspent desire.
Hannah linked her arm through her mother’s. Bidding Parker good-night, the pair strolled away. Parker watched until they rounded a curve and were out of sight.
He finished his walk alone, deep in thought. He had to get hold of this situation. His fantasies had been playing tricks on him. Now that he’d kissed Hannah Cassidy, he could get her out of his system.
He glanced at his watch. Coincidentally, his fifteen minutes were up.
Parker strode out the back door of the business complex that housed Malone, Malone & Associates. Snagging his key out of his pocket, he pointed it at the ground-hugging Corvette parked between the Mercedes and the Cadillac. The push of one button unlocked his door. The touch of another started the engine. Pausing, he listened closely. The timing was off. He’d better make an appointment to have his mechanic take a look at it.
Footsteps sounded behind him. “Parker,” his father called. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.”
Parker stopped and slowly turned. Another minute and he would have made his escape. His car wasn’t the only one whose timing was off.
“What is it, J.D.?”
“I’ll make this brief. I just came from the Double Crown Ranch.”
Parker acknowledged the information with a slight nod. “Any luck convincing Ryan to push that prenup?”
Tucking his briefcase beneath one arm, J.D. shook his head. “He wants his divorce from Sophia, and he wants it now. All he can think about is marrying the Cassidy woman. He says he trusts her.” J.D. made a disparaging sound. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, son. I understand you’ve made contact with Lily Cassidy’s daughter.”
Parker’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, his only indication of surprise. “I suppose you could call it that.”
“Think you can get close enough to her to make her see reason?”
Parker knew how J.D.’s mind worked. By “reason,” he meant whatever suited him in his efforts to win the most money, the most assets, the lion’s share for his client.
“I don’t think so, J.D.”
“You kissed her.”
Parker didn’t even try to hide his reaction to that one. Did the man have spies?
J.D. smoothed a hand down the length of his tie. “I happened to be on that garden path last week. She looked pretty…shall I say, pliable.”
Parker clenched his jaw. “She’s refusing my phone calls. The flowers I sent her were returned to me, wilted.”
“So you’re already on it.”
J.D. turned to go. Accustomed to his father’s dismissals, Parker quickly strode the remaining distance to his car door.
“Parker?”
He looked up, one foot already in the car.
J.D. was watching him, eyes narrowed, his gaze cool and steady. His father had an uncanny ability to assess a person, a situation, a half-truth or an out-and-out lie. As a kid, that look had made Parker feel like a germ under a microscope. It still did.
“Check your calendar and let me know when you have an evening free,” J.D. said. “I’ll have my cook broil some steaks. You look like you could use a cattleman’s cut, medium rare.”
Parker hadn’t planned to smile. “I’ll do that, Father.”
J.D. smiled, too, but only briefly. And then he headed for the office. The father-son moment was over. It was business as usual.
An hour later Parker strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His windows were down, but there wasn’t much air moving in downtown San Antonio today. Consequently, the plush leather seats felt at least a hundred and five degrees.
Come on, come on.