The Right Mr. Wrong

At the mention of his sister, Parker’s gaze slid off into the distance and Amber could see the conflict on his face. He wanted to, but he didn’t. And suddenly, it seemed imperative that Parker accept this little bit of his family’s affections. Or, more accurately, his sister’s affections. Somehow Amber just knew that if he didn’t follow through with this he would remain distant, not only to his family, but to, well...life.

‘I’m busy, Amber,’ he said. ‘I’m here with my friends.’

‘And as soon as you agree to the simple deed that will make your sister happy,’ she said easily, leaning back to get comfortable, ‘I’ll get out of your hair.’

The twist of his lips betrayed his displeasure. But this was too important. And much bigger than just one wedding.

When he didn’t relent, Amber crossed her arms and pulled the same stunt she’d pulled after he’d saved her from drowning. ‘If you don’t agree to be in Reese’s wedding,’ she went on with an expression so innocent she knew Parker could see through it, ‘I’ll agree to that drink with Rob.’

Parker’s gaze barreled back into hers. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘I would.’ She sent him a small smile. They both knew she had enough stories to embarrass him from now until forever. ‘I bet Rob would love to know you listened to ’N Sync.’

‘When I was twelve,’ he barked, eyebrows scrunched in horrified protest.

‘You were seventeen when you let Susie Frances paint your toenails.’

‘That was joke.’ He glanced around nervously, as if suddenly realizing the potential risk to his reputation. ‘And besides—’ the sexy smirk edged up his face ‘—she made the humiliation totally worth my while.’

And Amber really didn’t want to hear how.

‘Okay,’ she said. Time to go big or go home. She leaned closer, and this time her smile was brilliant. ‘I’ll tell Rob about the time I walked in on you in the bathroom and caught you—’

‘Stop.’ His hand landed on the table with a thump, and he eyed her as if half tempted to muzzle her mouth. His voice gruff, he muttered, ‘Holy mother of—’

The curse—a creative one, no doubt—died as he plowed a hand through his gold-tipped hair, leaving it more tousled than usual.

‘I’ll do it, okay?’ he said.

The boyishly ruffled hair, his obvious embarrassment and his agreement sent a twist of affection to her heart, and she leaned in close enough to smell the leather of his jacket.

‘Thank you,’ she said sincerely as she reached out, overwhelmed with the need to touch his hand in simple appreciation.

He must have misread her intentions, because his gaze grew dark as he drew back out of reach. ‘You’ve had your kiss,’ he said dryly. ‘And that’s all you get. As a matter of fact,’ he went on, lifting his brow as if in challenge. ‘Hands to yourself from here on out.’

Amber was surprised the surge of heat didn’t leave her in a puddle in her chair. Her nerves pulled into a knot, partly from the mention of their kiss and partly in annoyance at the reminder she wasn’t his ‘type.’ Which apparently included everyone but her. She inhaled a soothing breath. Parker Robinson seemed to avoid anything he didn’t want to talk about—emotions, thoughts, feelings, his past—by burying it in sexual innuendo.

She remember Parker arching against her body, the catch of his breath against her mouth...and the pulse of pure, unadulterated pleasure knowing that she had caused both.

Clearly, he’d enjoyed kissing her. No one could fake that kind of response. And he was still attracted, she could sense it in his gaze, in his very posture. Except he kept insisting he’d never touch her again. Any other guy and she wouldn’t care.

For some reason, Parker’s attitude was starting to tick her off.

‘I’m measuring you for your tuxedo,’ she said, amazed she managed to sound so calm. ‘Touching kind of goes along with the activity.’

She forced her eyes to remain steady on his as an impressive whirlwind of emotion swept across his face. Annoyance. Resentment. And a whole lot of lust.

Lust.

Chest slowly squeezing the air from her lungs, she desperately reminded herself that she didn’t do casual hookups, no matter how attracted she was. More important, she’d never, ever, seduce a guy. And she wouldn’t dream of chasing a fellow who was throwing up caution signs all over the place. Especially like the man seated across from her, a man who was less like a stop sign and more like a road-totally-closed-ahead kind of guy.

But...but she’d wanted Parker her whole life and the desire was so strong she was seriously considering making him an exception.

‘Fine,’ he said gruffly. ‘But I work long hours, so it will be late before I can stop by your shop.’

Visions of him in her store swam before her eyes. At night. The two of them alone. All she could hear in her head was Reese’s ‘You should be more proactive.’

And if anyone was worth taking the initiative to seduce, it was Parker Robinson.

Decision made, anticipation coursed through her veins, and Amber swallowed so hard it hurt.

She cleared her throat. ‘I make special, after-hours appointments fairly regularly,’ she said. ‘Just tell me when you can be there.’

Parker heaved out a breath and grabbed his beer bottle. ‘Nine-thirty tomorrow night,’ he said, taking a sip as he shot her a loaded look. ‘Just a quick couple of measurements and then I’m gone.’

The set of those beautiful lips and the tone of his voice made it abundantly clear he was done. But Amber...

Well, as far as she was concerned, she was just getting started.

FOUR

At nine-thirty the next night Parker pulled the door open to Amber’s Bridals. The bell tinkled way too merrily for a frustrating day that had started with a dead end on the Miller case, expanding the black, vast void in his chest. Which meant he’d spent the rest of today numbly going through the motions. Or maybe the numbness had been a problem for months.

Perhaps years.

Rolling his shoulders uneasily, he glanced around. He had to hand it to the kid, she had one helluva store. Classy to the core, the shop contained sleek hardwood floors and an abundance of white dresses lining the walls, veils, fake bouquets and pictures of models in wedding getup. And bowls of...what were those? Rose petals?

Parker couldn’t help himself. He let out a shudder.

‘Don’t worry.’ Amber’s voice came from behind. ‘No one has to know you were here.’

He let out a barking laugh. ‘I’m losing every masculine mark I ever earned just by passing through these doors—’

Turning, he was hit with a vision of Amber that knocked him on his virtual ass. How had the geeky preteen grown into such a vision? Red hair flowed past her shoulders. She was dressed in dressy jeans and a sheer top that clung to her breasts, the long-sleeve blouse flaring at the waist and sleeves. She managed to look young and sweet and incredibly sexy.

And with the current case he was working on, he felt old and hardened and done with humanity.

Amber crossed to lock the door and then turned to face him, remaining silent. The stari

ng contest grew uncomfortable as Parker realized he was alone in a shop with a beautiful woman who had, at the age of twelve, looked at him as if he hung the moon, the stars and the bloody sun to boot. Unfortunately, the appreciation in her face now held the weight of experience. Not to mention the lady was a walking, talking advertisement for Happily Ever After and Parker was quite convinced that Content for Now was beyond his capabilities. Toss in the fact that they were surrounded by swarms of puffy white dresses—and, holy mother, were those fake tiaras?—and the situation was less amusing than downright concerning.

She hiked a brow that didn’t ease the tension. ‘You ready?’

What was that supposed to mean?

‘Of course,’ he said.

He wasn’t an amateur. He refused to be intimated by the little slip of a thing that he’d taught how to capture crabs on the beach.

As he followed her down the hall, he made a point of ignoring the gentle, seductive sway of her slight hips and the fluid walk. Fortunately, the view was easier to ignore when she stepped into a large room containing two couches, an armchair and a coffee table mimicking an elegant living room, the furniture facing a small space surrounded on three sides by floor-length mirrors. And while he was sure broad daylight and the addition of people encouraged the appropriate air for viewing a dress, somehow the whole setup hinted at something...almost erotic. Especially with just the two of them. Alone.

Damn, what had he agreed to?

‘Take off your jacket and shoes,’ Amber said, waving in the direction of the furniture.

Parker shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on a couch, toeing off his shoes.

‘Uh—’ her eyes dropped to his shoulder holster containing his weapon and handcuffs ‘—the gun, too.’

For some reason he hesitated.

‘What?’ she said, hand on her hip. ‘You don’t mind taking off the jacket and shoes, but you draw a line at the weapon?’

‘Maybe it brings me a sense of security,’ he said with a small grin. When she waited for him to go on, the oft-repeated joke tripped off of his tongue. ‘Most people respect the badge,’ he said. ‘But everyone respects Smith & Wesson.’