The Right Mr. Wrong

‘Is that why you do what you do?’ she said, gesturing for him to step forward to the space in front of the mirror. ‘For respect?’

Black void expanding exponentially in his chest, he frowned. Shoot. He’d been teasing and she’d jumped straight to the serious talk.

‘How long is this going to take?’ he said as he crossed to the designated spot.

She pulled out a small, flexible tape measure and moved closer, pulling his gut a touch tighter. ‘I need to measure you for a shirt, jacket and pants,’ she said.

Which was really no answer at all.

And suddenly she was right in front of him, bringing her scent and the clear skin of her beautiful face close to his. He leaned back and looked down at her dubiously, his frown drawing his brows down until they tried to merge with his eyes.

‘Relax,’ she said. But something in her tone made the suggestion impossible. ‘This isn’t going to hurt.’

He elected to ignore the twitch of her luscious lips and hoped to hell she was talking about being measured for the tux. Innocent expression clashing with the knowing light in her eyes, she looped the tape measure—and consequently, her arms—around his neck, setting his heart tapping harder in his chest.

The slight smile on her face made him nervous. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you,’ she said as she took the measurement, her fingers whispering against him just beneath his Adam’s apple.

The simple brush of skin on skin sent a line of goose bumps streaking up his back. And how was that possible when she was only touching his stupid neck?

‘Are you going to your mother’s dinner party in two weeks?’ she went on.

Fortunately it was a question he could answer without thought, because thinking was difficult with her so close. ‘No.’

The word came out a little harsher than he’d intended, but the feel of her fingers was sending an uncomfortable thrum through his body. And how long did it take to get an accurate measurement? She wasn’t launching a nuclear warhead here. An approximation would do just fine, thank you.

‘Why not?’ she said as she dropped her hands and stepped over to the laptop on the coffee table.

Free of her disturbing touch, Parker let out a breath of relief.

‘Because I don’t have anything to say to my mother,’ he said. ‘And if I show up I’ll have to talk to her.’

A small frown tugged on her lips as she entered the measurement into her laptop. ‘When was the last time you two had a conversation?’

The gaping pit around his heart seemed to expand twofold, and Parker worked hard at not frowning at the memory.

‘She called my cell the day my father died,’ he said, remembering the feeling of desolation, the sense of aloneness. ‘I didn’t answer.’

She turned and stepped closer again, studying him silently for a moment. The assessing gaze, the topic of conversation and her skin that looked as if it tasted of cream made the situation wholly uncomfortable.

Without a word, she came to his side, and he stared at her profile in the mirror.

‘You should talk to her,’ she said.

‘I’ve got nothing to say.’

The pause was slight, but he sensed she had more to share. The words that followed were not what he’d been expecting.

‘I’m going to measure your sleeve length,’ she said.

With more care than he thought necessary, she measured from the spine at his neck, to his shoulder, and then drew the tape down his arm to his wrist. His T-shirt offered no protection from the slow slide of her fingers against his bare arm, and he ignored the shimmer of awareness that came with the move.

The simple brush of skin on skin on his arm shouldn’t be so arousing, either.

‘You did that on purpose,’ he said.

Despite the unfortunate husky tone of his voice, she said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ She sent him a sedate look. ‘Now raise your arms.’

He shifted on his feet, uneasy. ‘Why?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘No need to be so suspicious,’ she said. ‘I just need to measure your chest.’

Something in the set of her posture and the light in her eyes told him he needed to proceed with caution. To be on guard—and not because of the conversation about his family. The mood was electric. Heck, the air was so heavily charged he was surprised they both didn’t glow. And he could see in her eyes that she knew it, too.

‘Arms,’ she said as she stepped in front of him again.

Sending a sharp look down at her too-close-for-comfort face, Parker complied, raising his hands as if surrendering. Which he wasn’t, blast it all.

Amber looped her arms around his back, and, for a moment, the world came to a grinding halt....

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

If he leaned just a fraction of an inch closer, he would be able to feel the soft press of her breasts against the harder planes of his chest. She was looking up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes, and her face almost glowed. As though she was lit from within. A light that just might be able to absorb the blackness that churned inside.

Where had that thought come from?

Looking dazed, Amber stared up at him with her arms around his torso, and the words that came from her mouth were a surprise. ‘You took off your jacket.’

Her tone of voice suggested there was more to that less-than-brilliant bit of observation.

Parker’s brows pulled together, the rest of him frozen. ‘You told me to.’

She looked as stunned as he felt.

‘No. Not that...’ she said, her voice stumbling a bit. ‘I mean—you still smell like leather.’

A succession of emotions filed across her face, moving on from the shock and eventually ending with something that looked like anticipation. And...damn, there was no ignoring the vibe any longer because—

‘But maybe that’s just your signature scent,’ she mused.

—it was written all over her face.

‘Are you trying to seduce me, Amber?’ he asked softly.

Sometimes it was best just to punch the elephant in the room in the face.

She blinked, as if clearing her vision, and then brought her hands back around to finish measuring his chest. ‘Yes.’

Apparently she had no qualms about laying her cards on the table.

Tipping his head, he paused, feeling stronger now that they’d addressed the issue. He could handle this. He’d handled her starstruck adoration as a kid and he could handle her desire now. Feeling better, he watched her cross to enter the latest numbers and then return to stand in front of him again.

Everything would be fine, if he just didn’t look at her face, or her mouth, or her chest....

Bracing himself, he held his breath as she measured around his waist, her fingers skimming just below the level of his belly button, too close to more...sensitive parts of his body. And his abdominal muscles clenched as if punched, despite the T-shirt between them.

‘You should at least come to your mother’s party to see Reese,’ she said as she bit the corner of her mouth in concentration.

Leaving Parker with the intense need to lick the damp spot from her lip. His head was spinning, and his shaft was thickening, and coherent thought took him a moment.

‘Why?’ he croaked.

See, he could form words. Sort of.

‘Because she’s family,’ she said. ‘And we all need family.’

Despite his discomfort, he let out a small huff of laughter. She thought she was going to seduce him and get him to talk to his family? Man, she really was a believer.

And then she knelt before him, and... Oh, God.

In the mirror, the vision of her on her knees in front of him sent his pulse bounding out a rhythm that threatened to burst from his body. She was joy and hope and light and the intense need to bury himself inside her, to take a little of that faith for himself, to sink into her belief was almost his undoing.

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His mouth worked, struggling to function. ‘Nothing about this scenario is going to work on me, Ace,’ he said hoarsely, proud he could still form words.

‘I’m just taking your measurements.’

A sarcastic scoff escaped his throat.

And then she measured from his waist to his heel, and Parker blew out a breath, relieved the act was fairly tolerable. Even being so stupid as to congratulate himself on his self-control as she entered the measurement into her computer.

‘Next, your inseam.’ She returned to kneel in front of him, and he braced himself. ‘Spread your legs a bit.’