Lone Star Wedding (14 page)

A movement near the doorway drew her attention. She glanced up just as Parker left the room. Oh, my, but he was a virile man. Couldn't he see that he was far too virile, far too exciting for her dowdy older sister? It wasn't that Hannah was ugly. She wasn't. She was just so ungodly plain. Her makeup was practically nonexistent, her choice of clothing nondescript and boring. Poor Parker.

No one saw Maria's eyes narrow slightly. No one thought anything was amiss when she excused herself a few minutes later, not even Rosita, who watched her like a hawk. While everyone else was oohing over the way the light caught on the rich gems in the tennis bracelet encircling her mother's wrist and the earrings the other woman had received, Maria slipped through another door. Heart beating excitedly, she crept stealthily in the direction Parker had taken.

 

Parker dried his hands on the most luxurious towel money could buy. He'd been raised with opulence and was neither in awe of it, nor oblivious to it. He wasn't oblivious to the slow burn deep inside him tonight, either. In fact,
there had been times throughout the evening when it had been difficult to think about anything else.

He slid his hand into his pocket. Normally, his fingers would have come into contact with his keys. Since his car was in the shop, Hannah had picked him up tonight. He wondered how much longer she would want to stay. Far be it from him to rush her. Oh, no, tonight, she was setting the pace.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear the voice calling to him until he'd passed a doorway. Backtracking, he poked his head inside the den. Hannah's sister, Maria, took a few steps toward him, replacing the pout on her face with a small smile.

“Fancy meeting you here. I was just taking a little breather. Care to join me?”

He removed his hand from his pocket, and slowly nodded.

“I understand you're handling Ryan's divorce.” She sidled closer. Wetting her lips, she practically purred. “I'm so glad you're on our side. Why, I'll bet you're the best there is.”

He regarded her somberly, wondering if it was possible that he was misreading her intent. “I've earned my reputation. I should be getting back.”

Her hand glided to his arm before he'd taken one backward step. “Can't you stay and talk for a minute?”

“Talk?”

She spun around, leaving behind the bold scent of her perfume. “You're not afraid of Hannah's baby sister, are you?”

“Why would I be afraid of you?”

She laughed out loud. “My point exactly. Besides, I wouldn't dream of hurting a man. Quite the contrary. I love to make a man feel glorious.”

All the while she was talking, she was circling him, moving closer and closer. Parker held perfectly still, poised and ready to leave.

She shifted toward him, turning slightly, so that the outer swell of her breast brushed his arm. His fingers flexed, and a muscle worked in his jaw. He hadn't misread anything.

She looked up at him, and pressed her little body closer to his. She was like a cat, quiet and sleek, curling around a man, all rub and purr. He knew her type. She was the kind of woman who could make a man yowl.

“I'm staying in San Antonio tonight.” The invitation was crystal clear.

He grasped both her wrists, holding her away from him. “No thanks,” he said, his voice ominously low. “I already have plans.”

She practically meowed. Straining closer, she whispered, “So change them.”

He used his strength to hold her away from him, but he didn't try to keep the derision out of his voice. “There was a time when I would have gone for your type. I've upped my standards, and frankly, I don't want what you're selling.”

He protected himself from the knee that came up swift and hard, but not from the foot that stomped on his.

“How dare you make a pass at me,” she said. “When you're dating my big sister.”

What the hell was she talking—

“Hannah,” Maria said. “You're going to have to keep this man on a shorter leash.”

Hannah? Parker swung around, and came face-to-face with the quieter, gentler Cassidy sister.

All the blood had drained out of her face, leaving her cheeks pale. She brought her hand up, as if in slow motion,
covering her gaping mouth. Parker took a step toward her. “Hannah—”

“There you three are!”

Hannah, Maria and Parker all turned as Logan and Emily entered the small den. “Ryan's about ready to send out a search party,” Logan exclaimed.

Emily nodded. “He's passing out more gifts. Honestly, since he found Lily again, every day is like Christmas.”

Parker didn't know what Hannah was thinking. Although her back remained ramrod straight, she allowed Maria to loop her arm through hers. She answered when Emily spoke to her. She even laughed at something Logan said. Limping slightly, Parker wondered if he was the only one who noticed that her voice had changed, and that her laughter rang hollow.

 

Forcing a sense of calm she didn't feel, Hannah quietly returned to the living room. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Her lungs ached from lack of oxygen. Her heart ached the most of all.

A deep breath made her lungs feel better. She didn't know what it would take to soothe the ache in her heart. Everything had seemed so perfect before. The subdued shades of light in the room had changed to a blinding whiteness. Where there had been warmth, there was starkness, where there had been hues of gold and honey, there was now a cool veneer.

 

Hannah and Parker left the party together. Parker waited to speak until after she started her car's engine. “Hannah, I can explain.”

She gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. “No. Don't. It's going to require everything
I have to hold myself together. I won't be able to drive if we talk.”

“Then let me drive, dammit.”

She shook her head. And bit her lip. Pulling out of the Double Crown's curving driveway, she pointed her car toward the city.

Parker abided by her wishes. Neither of them said another word until after she'd pulled into her usual parking space in the alley behind her boutique, until after they got out of the car and climbed the back stairs. He wasn't sure if she'd brought him to her place because she was so distraught she'd forgotten to take him home, or if she'd done it because she wanted an explanation. And he didn't ask.

She unlocked the heavy door and preceded him into her apartment just as she'd done a few nights ago when they'd taken a walk. She turned on a lamp, but tonight, she didn't open a window. The air was stuffy. Sweat broke out on his brow. Wiping it away, he whispered, “I can explain.”

She twirled around so suddenly he didn't know what to expect. She faced him, her eyes delving into his in the semi-darkness. What he saw in their depths sent dread all the way through him. It wasn't the first time she'd
thought
she'd overheard a damning conversation. It had happened a few short days ago when she'd returned his suit coat to the office.

“Hannah,” he said again.

She shook her head. “You don't have to explain.”

“Well, I'm going to, dammit. And you had damn well better listen.”

The hurt in her eyes drained the anger out of him. He raked a hand through his hair. “Look,” he said quietly. “How long were you standing in the doorway?”

“Long enough to hear you, and to see you with Maria.”

He wanted to grasp her by the shoulders and yell that
he hadn't been
with
Maria, dammit. “I don't know what you heard, Hannah.”

“I heard it all.”

“It wasn't—”

“Yes, it was. I heard her, Parker. I heard what she said to you. I saw what she did. Why?”

There was no accusation in her voice, or in her eyes. She wasn't angry at him. And she wasn't blaming him. The realization was dredged from a place deep inside of Parker, a place beyond logic or reason. She wasn't asking why
he
had done anything despicable. She was asking why the sister she loved so dearly would do something so callous, so crass, so hurtful.

Hannah not only believed him, but she believed
in
him. A bruise was already forming on his foot where Maria had stomped on it. The pain in Hannah's eyes was a lot worse. Parker Malone was known for his sharp tongue, for his wide command of the English language. Yet now he struggled to find the right words to explain something unexplainable, to help Hannah understand something he didn't understand himself.

“You know Maria better than I do. You know what she's capable of. Has she ever done anything like this before?”

Hannah blinked, trying to clear her mind. Did she really know Maria at all?

She thought of all the times they'd spent together when they were kids. They'd grown apart these past few years, the way all grown siblings did. But Hannah had believed the love had remained. She would have done anything for Maria. She would have given her the shirt off her back, a port in a storm, a kidney, for God's sake. She'd assumed Maria would do the same for her. The realization of how wrong she'd been was shattering.

“I just don't understand.” It was all she could think to say.

Parker said, “Younger sisters are often jealous of older sisters, aren't they?” He swore to himself at the feebleness of the question. After all, trying to seduce your sister's boyfriend took sibling rivalry around the bend. Way around the bend.

“Jealous! What does she have to be jealous of?”

Parker could think of several things.

“Look at her,” Hannah said. “She's beautiful.”

Parker decided not to tell her she was wrong. Oh, Maria had all the right parts in all the right places. But it took more than large breasts and long hair and the right shade of lipstick to make a woman truly beautiful.

“I'm just so gosh darn mad at her I can't think straight.”

Parker very nearly groaned out loud. Leave it to Hannah to refrain from swearing even now. He might have made light of it, if he hadn't seen the tear trail slowly down her cheek.

He raised his hand to her face. Sliding his fingers into the hair covering her ear, he said, “Maybe Maria has an emotional problem. But it isn't your fault. And no matter what you think, she's not as beautiful as you are. She doesn't even come close.”

She started to protest, but he glided his thumb over her cheekbone and continued. “Everything about you is soft and understated. I'm coming to realize it isn't a conscious choice. It's who and what you are. There are so many layers to you. Even your scent has subtle layers, some sweet, some musky, all unforgettable. Yours is a gentle blend, your shampoo, your perfume, even the breath mints you chew. Nothing is blatant. Instead, you're all warm
shades, soft hues. You're not weak. Far from it. You're strong, but your strength comes from within.”

She'd gone very still. Her eyes had lost some of their sadness, her face some of its paleness. She turned her head, bringing her cheek more fully into his hand, as if seeking his warmth.

“Your beauty is the same way, Hannah. It comes from inside you.”

He saw her, felt her, take a shuddering breath. “Next thing you know you're going to tell me I have a nice personality. Isn't that what guys say when they describe a girl they know isn't pretty?”

He shook his head. He damn near sputtered. That wasn't what he'd meant at all. His thoughts raced. In the end, he knew she had good reason to be insecure. The sister she loved dearly had flaunted herself at
him.

He would have to try again.

His voice, when it came, sounded deeper, raspier in his own ears. “I could tell you how beautiful you are, Hannah. I've been told I have an uncanny way with words. But even better, I could show you how lovely I find you, how serene your eyes are right now, how full and warm and sweet your lips taste, how lithe and supple your body is, how perfectly it fits mine. Oh, yes, I could tell you, but I could show you so much better.”

She was looking up at him, her pupils so large her irises were merely a gray ring beneath the shadow of her lashes. There was such warmth in her gaze, such feeling in her sigh. “Parker?” she whispered.

He leaned closer, because she'd spoken so softly he almost couldn't hear.

“Yes, Hannah?”

She swayed slightly. It reminded him of a willow switch swaying in a heavy wind. Placing a steadying hand on his chest, she brought her lips close to his ear.

“Show me.”

H
er tiny living room was completely silent but for the sound of Parker's sharply drawn breath. If Hannah breathed, she wasn't aware of it. All her attention was trained on him.

She knew what she was asking of him, and she knew why. But she didn't want to think about that now. She didn't want to think about anything. She only wanted to feel.

He cupped her cheek in his palm, tipping her face up. He came closer, his chin lowering, his lips mere inches from hers. He'd been like this in her dreams, but those had been fantasies. The breath on her cheek was real, the fingers splaying wide through her hair were warm. Her eyes fluttered closed, only to open again, her gaze trained on the shadow in the center of his chin. Unable to help herself, she touched the indentation with her fingertip, the beginnings of whisker stubble coarse beneath her sensitive skin.

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, his lips grazing first one eyelid, and in turn, the other.

She didn't speak, wanting only to yield to the sweet warmth that was hovering all around her, slowly encircling her, and him.

“Here.” He murmured the word against her cheekbone, across the bridge of her nose.

Her breath came in a long, shuddering sigh.

“And here,” he whispered along her jaw and at the edge
of her lips. “And here.” His lips trailed down her throat, his hand spreading wide along the base of her neck, coming to rest where her heart beat an erratic rhythm. “You're beautiful everywhere, Hannah.” His voice was a deep rasp in the summer night. “But you're the most beautiful here, inside.”

She whimpered. When he slid a hand along either side of her face and finally covered her mouth with his own, she swooned.

If she lived to be a hundred, she would always remember this moment in time as the instant she fell in love. She'd been hovering, floating on the surface of love for days. It made the gentle lap and subsequent slip into full submersion all the more incredible.

The kiss ended as sweetly as it had begun. Feeling as if she was coming to life, she took his hand in both of hers, kissing his palm. With tears brimming in her eyes, she led him into the adjoining room. There was no hesitancy in her movements, no qualms or self-doubts. With a sureness she hadn't known in a long time, she switched on the overhead fan and turned on a lava lamp one of her clients had given her months ago.

The lamp barely penetrated the darkness, the fan moving warm, humid air in circular currents. It was exotic, erotic, but nothing compared to the look in Parker's eyes, the heat in the fingertips slowly doing away with the buttons down the back of her blouse.

He kissed her cheek, the sound of his breath mingling with the quiet swish of the thin garment landing on the floor. “Look at me, Hannah.”

She hadn't realized she'd closed her eyes, but she did as he asked, opening them. And there was Parker, his dark brown hair moving slightly in the fan-induced breeze, a tiny vein in his forehead beating a steady rhythm. When
she gazed into his eyes, she couldn't look away from the heat and intensity there. She held perfectly still for a moment, then swayed toward him.

As if it was all the invitation he needed, his arms shot around her, dragging her against him. He made short work of removing her slacks. She helped with his tie, and then his shirt. The clasp on his dress pants took two hands; the breath he sucked in as she undid the button and slowly lowered his zipper made her feel bold, wanton almost.

Desire kicked through Parker. He toed out of his shoes and peeled off his pants and socks. He wanted to press her hand over the part of him throbbing for attention. But this wasn't for him. It was for her. And for her sake, he took a steadying breath and forced himself to slow down.

Feather-light tresses of coffee-colored hair clung to her forehead, skimming her eyebrows. There were shadows beneath her eyes, a soft glow on her cheeks, a sultry curve on her lips.

He lifted her long hair away from her neck. Her throat and shoulders were tanned and smooth, her bra, beige lace, a shade darker than the skin it covered. He slid a strap down each shoulder, unfastened the back clasp. With a sensual, luxuriant movement, she let the garment fall to the floor.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, covering her breast with his hand.

He'd glimpsed her body through clothes, but he savored the reality of flesh against flesh. Her groan of pleasure lowered his own eyelids. He kissed, kneaded and caressed until her head lolled back. When she arched against him, he did it all over again.

She slipped out of his arms long enough to open a drawer in her nightstand. When she took out a handful of the pastel-colored packages she'd dropped on the floor the
first time they'd met, he nuzzled her neck, then turned her into his arms once again.

Hannah wasn't sure how they ended up in her bed, but suddenly her back was being pressed into her white quilt, and her legs were tangling with his. He did away with his briefs and her panties, then kissed her mouth, her neck, her breasts, the edge of one hip, the length of her thigh, her stomach. In that order, and in every other order.

This was what she needed. Wanted. This moment, this rapture, this man.

The things he did to her made her gasp, writhe, and yearn for more. And more is what he gave her. She touched him, too, and kissed him, her hands molding, memorizing, seeking and giving. It was exhilarating, awe-inspiring. Until now, she hadn't known how love sounded, tasted, felt. And knowing was the most amazing thing.

Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled her to him, breast to chest, skin to skin, man to woman.

Parker had always considered himself a skilled lover, but he wasn't relying on skill tonight. He relied on instinct, and on the sounds Hannah made deep in her throat, and the way she moaned and moved, returning his kisses, his caresses, touch for touch, pleasure for pleasure.

She smelled of woman, and soap, and flowery perfume, her touch strong and brazen one moment, gentle and inquisitive the next, arousing always. She learned his secrets as he learned hers, sometimes patient, often not.

Neither of them spoke. But when she opened her eyes and found him looking at her, she smiled. It was nearly his undoing. Before he lost the last shred of control, he reached onto the bedside table.

Someplace far away, on the other side of a haze of a desire so strong he couldn't think, he was aware that she was whispering his name as she pressed herself closer to
him. When he couldn't stand another moment, another touch, he rolled her to her back, poised over her, and made them one.

They began to move again in a slow dance of two bodies, one desire. The overhead fan stirred the warm air, its whirr a backdrop for lustier cries, throatier sighs, and needs that built in strength and intensity. He took her to the brink of completion. Waiting a moment until she went over the edge, he followed, the hot, heavy desire rolling from one to the other.

Hannah opened her eyes when she was able, but it was a long time before she thought of moving again. A deep feeling of peace had enveloped her. She'd come to life tonight in a way she never had before. As a woman, as a lover, as a woman in love.

She shuddered when he shifted to his side, missing him already. She would have liked to murmur her feelings out loud, but her instincts warned her to keep quiet.

She hadn't made love in a long time, had never made love like this. Actually, she'd only had one other lover. She knew it was ghastly to compare lovers, but she couldn't help it. Next to Parker, her boyfriend in college had been exactly that: A boy. She knew, even then, that she wasn't the type to sleep around. The day she and Alan broke up, she'd vowed to wait for the right man.

She'd known of a strong passion within her, but she'd never been so brazen, so consumed with need. She was relieved when he slid an arm around her, pulling her to him, as if he wasn't ready for the closeness to end, either.

They stayed that way for an immeasurable stretch of time, chests rising and falling, heart rates lowering, breathing returning to normal. She groaned when the phone rang, but she made no move to get up.

“Don't you want to get that?” he asked.

His voice sounded husky, and as spent as she was. “I'm not sure I ever want to move again.”

She felt more than saw him smile just as the answering machine clicked on in the next room. Her brother's voice carried to her ears. “Hannah? It's me, Cole. I just talked to Mom. She said you seemed preoccupied when you left the ranch tonight. Is everything okay?”

Some things were wonderful, she thought to herself. Some things might never be right again.

“Mom said Maria seemed great,” Cole continued in the background. “Call me when you get the chance, okay?”

The answering machine clicked off. And Parker said, “Sounds like Maria fooled your mother. I, for one, am glad Cole didn't call any earlier.”

The concern in Cole's voice had reminded Hannah of her troubles, but she smiled in spite of herself. “Cole has great timing.”

“It's an inherent characteristic,” Parker murmured, “present in the best attorneys.”

She glanced up at him and slowly shook her head. The smoke had cleared from his eyes, his face still hard and beautiful and intense. “At least success hasn't gone to your head.”

“In case you hadn't noticed, success isn't what went to my head tonight.” He moved slightly, as if to get up.

Hannah wasn't experienced enough in these situations to know what to do or say. Secretly terrified that tonight had been a once in a lifetime experience, she reached for a silk robe lying on her side of the bed.

The mattress creaked on the other side, but Parker's voice was still warm and deep as he said, “A client gave me tickets to the symphony.”

She glanced over her shoulder. His back was to her, his movements graceful, his body sleek, all sinew and muscle.

“Care to go with me?” he asked.

Happiness washed over her. “Tomorrow night?”

He nodded. “I know it's short notice.”

Doing her best not to sound completely breathless, she said, “I would love to go, Parker.”

She didn't know what came over her, but before another second went by, she scooted across the bed. Going up on one elbow, she reached a hand to his shoulder, and let it slowly glide down his spine. He sucked in a quick, sharp breath. And held very still.

Her hand slipped around his waist, spreading wide across his abdomen, flexing over ridges, inching lower. He made a sound deep in his throat, part groan, part hum, all male.

“If you're not careful,” he said, his voice raw with need, “we're going to have to do that all over again.”

Hannah would have liked to hear words of love, but she wasn't altogether disappointed when none were forthcoming. “Define careful.” Pressing her lips to the back of his shoulder, she let her left hand spread wide over his chest, while her other hand continued an exploration of its own.

“And to think I even considered the notion that you didn't know your way around a man.”

She couldn't help smiling wryly. She knew Parker was referring to the argument they'd had concerning her declaration that she was waiting for a commitment before taking a man to her bed. Tonight, he'd proved her wrong. It was so like him to try to get the last word, even weeks later.

“There was a boy I thought I loved in college,” she said, moving against him, “but I don't want to think about him. I'd rather think about this.”

Parker sucked in a ragged breath when her hand closed around him. There was a roaring din in his ears. In some
far corner of his mind, he knew there was more to the danger signals going off inside his skull than desire. He was trying to think clearly, to identify the problem, but passion closed in on him and he didn't see any reason to think when he could be kissing Hannah again.

Shadows played over the bed. In a movement so quick she gasped, he had her on her back, right where he wanted her.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

He grinned wickedly, and decided then and there that there would be time to analyze later.

 

“Hannah? Are you home?”

“I'm in here, Adrienne,” Hannah called from her bedroom.

It was Saturday night. The carpet muted Adrienne's footsteps, but it didn't quiet the whistle she let loose at the sight of Hannah. Glancing at the doorway Hannah said, “Does that mean I look okay?”

Adrienne sauntered closer. “You look gorgeous, and you know it.”

Hannah studied her reflection. She'd been on the receiving end of a lot of compliments these past few days. She had to admit she looked better than she had when Adrienne had seen her this morning. Then, tears had brimmed in her eyes as she'd recounted what she'd seen and overheard at the Double Crown last night. Adrienne had asked a few questions, but for the most part she'd listened. When Hannah had finished, Adrienne had shaken her head and said, “When I was small I used to beg my mother for a baby sister. Times like these make me glad I'm an only child. What are you going to do about Maria?”

Hannah thought she should confront Maria, but how? When? She didn't know how she felt about her sister. Oh,
there was still love, but there were other emotions now, as well. Sadness, disappointment, anger, disbelief. It was all so confusing. She was hurt, bewildered, incensed. She didn't know whether she had the right to confront Maria, or an obligation to. It seemed she'd spent half the day worrying about that, and the other half thinking about Parker. He'd called a cab, then crept out of her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, and she already missed him. She would have liked him to spend the night. She told herself the fact that he didn't was no cause for alarm. After all, he had an early meeting. And she had clients to see and parties to plan.

He'd been ardent, passionate, wonderful. And so caring it took her breath away even in memory. Just because he'd been silent and pensive afterward was no reason to worry. He wanted to see her again. He wouldn't have said so if he hadn't meant it. Surely her disappointment over Maria was affecting her self-confidence.