Chapter Eighteen

Two days later, Tamsen was standing in front of Parker’s door. After the almost getting caught by their parents incident, Cora and Parker teased her playfully all morning until he’d left for his shift at the fire station.

They’d texted back and forth, and it was strange how addicted to this man she was already. It had only been two days and already her body was craving his touch. Starving for it like a chocoholic standing outside the gates of Willy Wonka’s factory.

This whole thing was new and shiny. It still had the wow factor. And Parker was good in bed, really good. Eventually this burning need for him would dwindle. She’d make sure of it, because she refused to consider the alternative.

Falling for a man who was clearly a commitment-phobe? No. She couldn’t do that.

She lifted her hand and knocked, but the door swung open to reveal the object of her thoughts in the flesh. Parker had on a pair of dark blue jeans and a gray T-shirt snug enough to show off the muscle definition of his biceps. Yummy. Each human body was beautiful in its own way, but Parker’s was a masterpiece of sharp lines and hard muscles. Such an interesting contrast to his warm personality and soft smile.

“Hey there.”

He grinned in welcome, and she nearly melted into a puddle of goo, like the time she accidently left her wax sculpture in her car on a hundred-degree day. No one should have this much sexual charisma. It wasn’t fair. But she was glad she got to be the recipient of it. For now, anyway.

“Hi.” She lifted the box in her hand. “I come bearing tasty treats.”

His gaze traveled down her body, eyes heating with desire. “You sure did.”

Was the AC on? Because she was overheating.

She bumped him with her hip, stepping inside when he shifted to let her by. “Cool it, Casanova. We have food to sample before we can…sample other things.”

He shut the door with a chuckle. “If you say so. We’re both going to need the calories for what I have planned anyway.”

She liked the sound of that.

She moved into his apartment and stopped short. Her jaw dropped slightly as she took in the place. This wasn’t an apartment. She had an apartment. One that could fit into his living room one and a half times, it appeared. This place was huge. Possibly bigger than the house she grew up in. And fancy. There was a giant flat-screen TV taking up a significant portion of the far wall, a hallway that went off to the left, which she assumed held bedrooms or the passage to Narnia for all she knew.

A large, plush-looking couch and loveseat were placed in the middle of the living room. A few bookshelves lined the opposite wall, and the third wall was taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an astounding view of the city below. She should have guessed when he told her he lived on the eighteenth floor that his place would be fancy, but she hadn’t imagined it would be…this.

“Wow.”

‘What?”

“Your place is amazing.”

He glanced around, shrugging like he didn’t see what she did. “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty great.”

“Pretty great?” She snorted. “Parker, how can you afford to rent a place like this?” She knew firefighters could make a decent living, but nothing that could afford something like this.

“I don’t rent it. I own it.”

She turned to face him, shock causing her eyes to widen. “You own it?”

How the hell did he manage that? She was still paying off her student loans from art school. She couldn’t even buy a season ski pass, let alone an opulent condo on the eighteenth floor.

“I had an inheritance from my grandparents. It was enough to go to a fancy Ivy League school, but I went to the firefighter academy. I used the rest for this place.”

She kept forgetting that Parker’s family was loaded. He didn’t act like a snob. Not that all rich people did, but she worked in the service industry and people with money tended to let you know it. Repeatedly.

“Come on,” he said, moving toward the kitchen. “I’ve got the samples from Café Altier in here.”

They were taste-testing appetizers to choose who to cater the wedding shower. She’d heard a lot about Cafe Altier, but it was too pricy for her budget. She, of course, was bringing a selection of Ty’s finest bites.

“Holy crap.” And speaking of Ty, the chef would flip his lid if he saw the fancy-looking stove in Parker’s kitchen. It had two ovens. She didn’t know they even had that for personal homes. “Please tell me you cook on that thing.”

If he didn’t, it would be a crying shame. A waste. If Ty ever found out, he might try to sneak in here, rip the oven from the wall, and carry it home. Heck, she wanted to rip it out of the wall and take it home.

Parker grimaced. “I try. My crewmate Tanner’s husband is a fantastic cook. He’s given me a few lessons. Actually helped me pick out this stove, in fact.”

She’d bet. Only someone who knew a lot about cooking would know to buy an item like that. What she wouldn’t give to have an entire weekend to test that baby out. The things she could make. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

She followed him over to a large, round table. It was made of some kind of wood and stained a dark burgundy type color that matched the kitchen cabinets. There was a tray of decorative-looking foods. Breads with fruit and cheeses, pâté, tapenade, all artfully arranged on the tray with a flourish of green garnish surrounding the tiny morsels. They looked almost too pretty to eat. She placed her box on the table, knowing what she brought might not look as fancy, but she’d bet it tasted better. Ty was an amazing cook.

“Hmmmm, I don’t know, Parker.” She grinned. “Is that food or art? Seems too pretty to eat. I think I might win this one. Again.”

A challenge sparked in his eyes. “That was trivia. This is food. Something I have a lot of experience with.”

She snorted. Who didn’t have experience with food? Everyone ate.

“Hello?” She pointed to herself. “Works in the food industry. I highly doubt you know more about food than me, fire boy.”

He grinned, leaning close to whisper in her ear. “Ah, but you forget I grew up tasting the work of world-class chefs. My palate has been trained since birth to recognize the most delectable of dishes.”

She shivered as his lips ran along her cheek. He pressed his mouth to hers, running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He kept the kiss soft and sensual, but it had her knees quivering all the same.

“I know heaven when I taste it.”

He pulled away with a smile. Tamsen sunk into the chair at her side—it was either that or collapse on the floor. The things this man did to her.

“Let’s bet on it.”

He sat in the chair beside her. “You want to bet on whose chef choice is better?”

“Whose food is better, but yes.” Feeling the need for some playful payback, she placed her hand on his thigh and stroked upward as she spoke. “As you said, you’ve lost twice now. I have to give you some opportunity to reclaim your manhood. Even though I know I’m going to win.”

He growled low in his throat as the tips of her fingers lightly stroked him through his jeans.

“My manhood is hardly in jeopardy. How about if I win, we have sex in the living room and if you win, we have sex in the bedroom?”

She laughed. “Sounds like we’re having sex either way.”

“Exactly. Win-win.”

She couldn’t argue with that, even if she wanted to.

“Deal.”

Parker lamented the loss of Tamsen’s talented fingers as she slid them away from his body. But since he knew it was only minutes until they—and every delectable inch of Tamsen’s naked flesh—was pressed up against his, he tamped down his disappointment.

“Okay, whatcha got?”

She smiled, opening the large cake box she’d brought in. Mouthwatering smells rose from the box. He peeked inside and nearly swallowed his own tongue.

“Are those pigs in a blanket?”

“Yup.” She pulled out the small parchment paper holding four tiny sausages wrapped up in bread baked to golden perfection. “My dad’s favorite.”

“Mine, too.”

“Here, try one.”

She held it up to his lips. He accepted the appetizer, nipping her fingers playfully, then closed his eyes to enjoy the savory morsel. The chef managed to add the perfect amount of butter to the roll surrounding the dog. He’d loved pigs in a blanket ever since he went to sleepaway camp in the fourth grade. No fancy meals there, but somehow those tiny sausages wrapped in doughy goodness had been the best thing he’d ever eaten. Maybe because he could eat them with his hands without anyone admonishing him for improper table manners.

That they were Thomas’s favorite food, too, was…he didn’t know what it was, but the pit was back in his gut. The more time he spent around Tamsen, the worse he felt about this whole PI thing. His mom would be pissed if she found out, and Tamsen would be crushed. But he couldn’t stop the investigation now.

Frank’s last message said he still had a few things to look into. The longer this took, the more Parker felt like he was doing something wrong. He was only trying to protect his mother. So why did it feel like he was betraying everyone?

“Is something wrong?”

He realized he’d stopped eating and was staring down at the table. Swallowing the last bit of food, which didn’t taste as delicious as it had ten seconds ago, he smiled. “Yup. Just realizing I might be losing again. Seems to be a pattern around you.”

A blush rose on her cheeks. “Yeah, well it seems only fair considering my pattern around you involves getting myself into the most embarrassing situations possible.”

He laughed. “Okay, your turn.”

Reaching for the tray, he grabbed one of his favorites, goat cheese and tart apple on a sliced baguette. He held it out like Tamsen had done for him. She took a small bite, her lips brushing against the tips of his fingers as she left half the appetizer in their grip.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned falling back against her chair. “That’s amazing.”

No, what was amazing was how they were both still sitting at the table with their clothes on. Since she walked in the door, Parker had been damn near aching for her. Her sexy little moans turned him from hard to damn steel.

He stood, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to him. He led her out of the kitchen and down the hall toward his bedroom.

“But we haven’t declared a winner. We haven’t even tasted all the samples yet.”

“I don’t care. You win.”

She laughed. “Do I win because you think my chef is better or because you want sex?”

“Does it matter?”