Chapter Nine

Tamsen glanced at the clock on the kitchen stove. Five fifty. The exact same number it was when she checked twenty seconds ago.

The minute numbers blinked in and out for a split second, and her heart started to pound.

Five fifty-one.

Okay, this is fine. Nine minutes. I have nine minutes until Parker gets here. It’s fine. Everything is fine. Dinner is ready. I have a fresh notebook to jot down ideas for the party. Everything is ready and on track.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous—liar. But it was just dinner. A planning dinner. It’s not like they were going on a date or anything. Just two people who were starting up a friendship, planning a party for their separate parents who were getting married.

It sounded convoluted when she put it that way, but it was better than saying she was meeting with her future stepbrother. Her future super-hot stepbrother who had seen her boobs, wasn’t too jazzed about this wedding, and had some weird wall of ice go up when she mentioned music. That had been a weird moment. Parker had been so easygoing and carefree before then, but the second she mentioned he play his guitar, he’d turned to stone. She knew how touchy the subject of creativity could be, but Parker had completely shut down at her suggestion. She had to admit, it made her curious as to the reason for his apparent anger at something his mother claimed he once loved.

“Hey Tam.” Cora flounced into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a soda. “How’s the freak-out going?”

“I’m not freaking out.” But right now, she was very grateful her roommate was home. She wasn’t too ashamed to admit she needed the buffer of another person tonight. The thought of her and Parker spending an entire evening in her apartment alone sent wicked, naughty thoughts through her mind, and she’d never been very good at denying herself the things she wanted.

“Really?” Cora raised one dark brow. “Then why are the plates in the refrigerator?”

Crap!

Tamsen rushed over to open the fridge, and sure enough, the place settings she thought she’d put on the table were stacked all nice and neat next to the leftover cheese she’d nabbed from the art show at the gallery the other night.

“Fine,” she admitted, grabbing the plates and silverware. “I might be a tad nervous, but it’s only because I want to make sure everything goes smoothly tonight. I have to get along with Parker. For my dad’s sake.”

She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her father’s happiness. Goodness knew the man deserved every ounce coming his way and more.

“Uh huh.”

She shot a reproachful glance to her doubting roomie. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You implied it with your tone.”

Cora held her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean anything bad. I’m just wondering if you’re trying to impress Parker for your dad or for you.”

“What’s the difference?” Didn’t everyone want to make a good impression on people? Especially the people who were going to be a big part of their lives?

“If it’s for your dad, it’s because you want to welcome him into the family. If it’s for you, it’s because you want to welcome him into your panties.”

“Cora!” Heat burned her cheeks.

“Don’t try to bullshit me, Tam. This is the guy you were mooning over for days after he came to your rescue like a knight in shining firefighting gear.”

She didn’t moon. And even if she had, she was an artist. They tended toward the dramatic. All those creative juices made life more…everything.

“He’s going to be a part of my family.”

Cora shrugged. “A stepsibling you’re getting as an adult. It isn’t like you two grew up together or have any familial bonding. Do you know how close I am to my stepsiblings? I don’t even know their middle names. Couldn’t pick them out of a crowd if I tried.”

Cora’s mom was on her third marriage. Her dad, his fourth. She had a slew of new and ex stepsiblings she hardly spoke to. But Tamsen had always envied anyone with a massive familial atmosphere, even if it did get a little chaotic at times. Blended or otherwise, she imagined it would be nice to have so many people you could count on. For as long as she could remember it had just been Tamsen and her dad, with a few extended family members she saw once every few years. But now that she finally had the chance for a wider family circle, she wasn’t as thrilled. Why did it have to be Parker?

“Look,” Cora continued. “All I’m saying is if you want this guy, why not go for it?”

“Because if the relationship goes badly, it would affect my dad’s marriage.”

Cora laughed. “Who said anything about a relationship? I’m just saying you should bang the guy.”

“Please do not say anything like that in front of Parker. I’m begging you.”

Cora’s response was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Speak of the sexy devil.” Cora gave Tamsen a knowing look and strode toward the door.

Tamsen turned back to the stove, opening the oven to check the contents. Her nerves hit the ceiling as she heard Cora’s muffled voice speaking to whoever was at the door. As if she didn’t know.

“Hello, you must be Parker. I’m Tamsen’s roommate, Cora.”

The deep, sexy voice she’d been hearing all week in her dreams replied, “Nice to meet you, Cora.”

“Oh, Tamsen,” Cora called out as she led Parker into the kitchen. “Look who it is.”

“Hi, Parker!” She winced. Did she shout that? She sounded loud, too bright. She really needed to take a chill pill. Or twenty. It was only dinner and discussion. Nothing to stress out about. “Welcome.”

“Or welcome back, I should say.” Cora tilted her head and smiled. “You were already here once, right? When you rescued Tam from the plaster disaster.”

“Cora,” her voice squeaked a warning, but her friend ignored it.

“Did you hear about the time she used adhesive spray on Styrofoam? Ate right through it. Destroyed her final project in stagecraft design. Then there was the time she mistakenly grabbed temporary tattoo paint instead of regular body paint for the life canvases class. Her poor model looked like Picasso’s Weeping Woman for two weeks. She was so pissed. Remember that, Tam?”

“Yes, I do.” But Cora wouldn’t for long because Tamsen was going to kill her. “And as much fun as this walk down memory lane of Tamsen’s finest disasters is, dinner is ready.”

Parker smiled. “Art’s all about experimentation, right? Not all experiments pan out. What did that hippy-looking painter say? The one with the big hair? There are no mistakes, just happy little accidents.”

“Bob Ross.” She nodded to Parker. “And thanks, that’s a great way to look at my…happy little accidents.”

“I didn’t know what we were having, but I brought this.” He held out a bottle of wine. “Figured red goes with almost everything.”

“Thank you.” She took the bottle, noticed the brand was one of the wines they served at the restaurant. One of the more expensive labels that also happened to be her favorite.

Cora leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Sexy, sweet, and springs for the good stuff? Makes a woman wonder if he’s as good in bed as out of it.”

Her face burned, flames of embarrassment racing up her cheeks. She shushed her roomie, praying to everything in the universe Parker hadn’t heard her friend’s inappropriate comment. The tightening in her core made her wish she hadn’t heard it, either, because now her mind was coming up with all sorts of naughty imaginings of what Parker could do in bed.

“Well, I’m out. It was nice to meet you, Parker.”

Shock had her jaw dropping as she turned to Cora. “What do you mean out? Where are you going?”

“Jared got us tickets to Comedy Works tonight. Anjelah Johnson is headlining.”

Cora and her boyfriend loved standup, but it seemed awfully convenient that her roomie suddenly had tickets to a show she was sure sold out weeks ago.

“I didn’t know you had tickets tonight.”

Cora ignored the suspicion in her tone. “His boss had a family emergency and gave them to us.” Kissing Tamsen on the cheek, she whispered, “Have fun, Tam.”

Parker waved as Cora closed the door, sealing Tamsen in the apartment with a bigger temptation than a 50 percent off sale at her favorite art supply store. He turned back to her, that devastatingly sexy smile on his face turning her stomach into a whirlwind of butterfly wings.

“Something sure smells good.”

Grateful for the distraction from her distraction, she grabbed the baking dish from the oven.

“Have a seat. It’s all ready.”

She brought the hot dish to the table, setting it on the potholder she’d laid out earlier. Though Parker sat in the chair across from her, the round table was so small, his large presence made her feel surrounded. When she sat, she tucked her feet under her chair so she wouldn’t be tempted to tangle them up in Parker’s. Seriously, how had she never noticed how small her kitchen table was before? She swore she could feel his body heat radiating across the table, wrapping around her like a warm, sexy blanket.

Or maybe that was the casserole.

She scooped out a portion of the chicken fajita casserole for Parker and one for herself. Steam rose from the dish, lifting the scent of spice and cheese into the air. Parker slid a forkful into his mouth and groaned. She squirmed in her seat at the sensual sound.

“Tamsen, this is amazing.”

Pride had her beaming. With all her family and friends telling Parker every blight and blunder of her artistic endeavors, she was happy her cooking hadn’t caused her any embarrassment.

“Thank you. Cooking relaxes me. It’s kind of like art. There’s always a recipe to follow so I know I’m doing every step right, but also room for personal interpretation. That’s what makes it so magical.”

“Cooking or art?”

“Both.”

“I can see that.” He grabbed the serving spoon. “I’m glad your roommate left.”

Her heart rate kicked up. “Really?”

He grinned, scooping out another serving onto his plate. “Yeah, more for us. You want another?”

She shook her head. “I’m good.”

Of course he was excited about the prospect of more food and not of alone time with her. She was letting her imagination run wild—the exact thing she specifically told it not to do. Parker was here to help her plan the shower and nothing else.

You hear that, hormones? Chill. The man just wants more food.

“Do you cook?” she asked, grabbing her wineglass and taking a deep sip. Delicious. The light and somewhat spicy flavor of the wine rested on her tongue, a perfect complement to the dinner.

“Not really. My buddy’s husband taught me how to make a mean seared chicken and glazed carrots, and I can do most pasta dishes, but I’ve never fully mastered the art of cooking.”

He took a sip of his own wine, and she tried very hard not to notice the sensual way his throat moved when he swallowed or moan when his tongue came out to swipe a small drop of red liquid off his lips. She failed, but dammit she tried.

“Why not?”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, apparently satisfied with two helpings.

“Growing up, I never had to make my own meals. We always had staff on hand for those things or went out. We share making meals at the station, so I’ve had to learn a little in order not to poison my crewmates, but when I’m not at the station, it’s just me.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem worth it to make a nice, fancy meal for one.”

She supposed that made sense, even if it did sound a little lonely. She didn’t really understand it. Having grown up just her and her dad doing everything themselves, the mere thought of a staff to take care of your every need seemed like something out of a fairy tale. She had no idea Parker’s family had that kind of money. Suddenly she wondered what her budget-brand dishware and mismatched bathroom towels would look like to him.

“Wow, kinda wish I had a staff to cook for me growing up. Dad did his best, but he worked so hard as it was…I wanted to help out, so I took over meal duty. He was a good sport about it when I started and wasn’t that great at it.” She laughed, remembering a particularly disastrous lasagna recipe failure.

“But it was always fun experimenting with recipes, switching things out to make something new, something different than what was on the page. I started to have a lot of fun with it, and seeing Dad enjoy what I made, well, that was a joy in itself.” For Tamsen, cooking was another form of art. One that fed the soul along with the body.

He frowned, as if the idea of cooking being fun was an alien concept.

“So tell me something about your mom.” She needed to know more about the woman if she was going to plan the perfect party. And, secretly, she wanted to know more about Parker, too.

A loving smile lit up his face. “Mom’s great. She used to come into my room and sneak me cookies when she got home late from the office. Chocolate chip—just like your dad. Even after a long day of work, she always made sure to check in on me. Her career was as important to her as her family. Always has been.”

The light she saw in his eyes when she brought him cookies made much more sense. It was a sweet image, a young boy waiting under the covers for his mom to get home from work with a special treat. She was ashamed to admit she hadn’t thought of Victoria as the workaholic type, but it seemed Parker’s mother really was a superwoman. Admirable for sure.

“Did she often work late?”

Parker stared at the deep red wine in his glass. “Yeah. She was the CEO of the McMillian property management firm before she retired. Put in hard work and long hours, but she always showed up for my important stuff. Baseball games, school awards, those kinds of things.”

Sounded a lot like her dad. “And what did your dad do?”

Parker snorted, downing the last of his wine. “He’s a bloodsucker.”

That was a bit extreme. She knew some people didn’t like their parents, but Parker seemed to downright despise his father.

“A bloodsucker?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant one. “A lawyer. For the rich and powerful. Defense, mostly. Protecting hedge fund managers who embezzled. Getting teens of prominent people off with a warning when a DUI caused a major wreck. I have no idea what my mother ever saw in him. As far as I can remember, they were always fighting.”

“What about?”

“He thought she should quit her job and be his little society wife. She didn’t agree with the cases he took.” He shrugged. “He took off when I was fourteen. Haven’t seen him since, but I hear he’s still protecting the pockets of the power shakers.”

Okay, then. Sounded like Parker’s dad was a real piece of work. At least she had loving stories about her mother from her dad. Unable to stand the tense silence in the room, she poured the rest of the wine into their glasses.

“I’m sorry, Parker.”

He grabbed his glass and downed a third of it. “It’s not a big deal.”

Kinda seemed like it was.

“Mom was always there to take care of me, protect me. And I intend to do the same for her.”

That was a bit strange. A parent’s job was to protect their child, at least until adulthood, anyway. But a kid protecting their parent? Was she running from the mob or something? Maybe he was worried she’d get taken advantage of in her old age, not that Victoria was old, but scammers did like to target the above-fifty crowd. Some guy tried that crap on her dad a few years ago with a spam call claiming to be from the IRS, but he was smart enough not to fall for it. Was that what Parker was worried about? Someone scamming his mom?

Reaching over, she squeezed his hand reassuringly. “She’s a grown woman. I’m pretty sure she can protect herself. Besides, she’s got my dad now, and I know he’s seems like a big ol’ softie—and don’t get me wrong, he totally is—but he would never let anything happen to your mom. I promise you that.” She laughed, but he didn’t join in. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. She had no idea what was going through Parker’s mind at the moment, but she would bet it wasn’t happy wedding thoughts.

Shifting in her chair, she stood and grabbed their plates. “Let me clear the table, then we can get to brainstorming ideas for the party.”

Because that’s why he was here. Not for a touchy-feely get-to-know-you session. She did need to know more about Victoria, but she didn’t think asking him about his mom would go to such a morose place. Much like the incident with the music request yesterday, she had to remember she didn’t really know that much about Parker.

He placed a hand over hers as she reached for their plates. A spark of awareness shot up her arm, heading straight to her breasts. Her nipples perked up, poking into her bra. Thank goodness she wore the one with the slight padding to cover the reaction. Nothing she could do about the heat on her cheeks, though. She was sure she was blushing, dammit. Why did her body react to this man this way? When was it going to get the memo?

She. Couldn’t. Have. Him!

“You cooked, I’ll clear.”

He smiled, and she nearly melted into a puddle right at the table, worried if she opened her mouth, she’d beg him to forget doing the dishes and do her instead. She nodded and motioned to the dishwasher, unable to take her eyes off his deliciously tight ass as he bent over and placed the dirty dishes inside.

“Mind if I use your restroom before we dive into planning?” he asked once he closed the dishwasher back up.

She quickly adverted his gaze, hoping he hadn’t caught her shamefully staring at his backside. “Of course, it’s down the hall on the left.”

Tamsen grabbed the notebook with the few ideas she’d started to write down for the party and sat at the table going over the notes she’d made. After a few minutes, she glanced up and checked the clock on the stove. Parker had been in the bathroom a while. She hoped she didn’t mix up some ingredient in the casserole and give him stomach problems. She didn’t have as many cooking disaster stories as she did art project stories, but there had been a few. The salt instead of sugar incident of 2013, last year’s baking soda disaster cupcake fail, and the expired milk episode on her father’s sixtieth birthday. That one still haunted her.

Wanting to check and make sure everything was okay—at this rate she would need to change her name and move to some remote island to avoid further embarrassing herself in front of this man—Tamsen hurried down the hall to check on Parker.

But he wasn’t in the bathroom.

The only bathroom in the apartment was empty, the light off. As she made her way down the hall, she was surprised to see Parker standing in the doorway of her room staring intently at the sketches and easel set up in the corner by the large window. It got the best light in the apartment, so it’s where she did most of her drawing and painting.

She cleared her throat loudly, gaining some satisfaction from the small jump in the corded muscles of Parker’s back. He turned with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

She raised one eyebrow.

“Okay, I did. I saw a light on and…” He waved an arm, encompassing her art. “Tamsen, these are amazing.”

Her cheeks heated, warmth and pride filling her at his compliment. “Thank you.”

“I’m not an art aficionado, but these are…powerful.” He stared at the drawings again. “I don’t know if that makes sense. It’s just the word that pops into my head as I look at them.”

“Whatever emotion you feel is the goal,” she answered, coming to stand beside him. “That’s the beauty of art. It’s interpretive. The artist may create one thing, but it truly comes to life in the observed. Whatever it makes you feel, it’s right.”

“Are these all for that human body project you were talking about?”

“Some of them.”

They were all sketches of the human body. Some drawn from life, some from pictures, others she created in her head.

“Life drawing is one of the first things they teach you in art school, but I’ve always been drawn to the complexity of the human form. How different we all are. How similar. The curves and angles, big and small. Each body catering to the soul inside it. I love capturing that soul on paper. Every subject brings new insight. I…I’d love to draw you sometime.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her mouth had started to ramble again, running away without her brain. Why had she said that? Yes, she did want to draw Parker, but that didn’t mean she had to tell him about it. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him about all the naughty dreams she’d been having involving him or the sketches she’d already drawn of him…

The heat of his body enveloped her as he moved in closer. She felt the brush of his lips against her ear. A shiver of pleasure running up her spine as his warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck as he spoke.

“You want to draw me? How about in the buff? That can be arranged.”