Desert Angel (Family Justice Book 2) Page 18

  She was so predictable, just like the Angie he remembered. Put something new or unique under her nose and she was hooked. He chortled softly when she leaned closer and watched what he dropped into the scalding hot broth.

  One time he and Alex had terrorized a very young Angie and her older sister, Sophia, during a Dia de los Muertos charade. Soph had completely lost her shit while he and Alex laughed their asses off. Angie though, young as she was, got over her fright quickly and immediately became all-curious. How had they made those scary noises? Where did the masks come from? Parker was watching her play those emotions out again right in front of him. This was the real girl he knew so well. By putting something unexpected in her way, he’d sidetracked her outrage by stoking her natural curiosity.

  “Oooh, can I do that?” she asked nodding at the chopsticks and plate of tantalizing tidbits. “What do you do? Just drop it in?”

  He couldn’t help the smirk. Damn woman was practically shoving him out of the way. Using a long handled basket utensil, he scooped the lobster chunks from the flavored broth and put them on a plate. When she reached to snatch a bite, he was ready for her, swatting her hand away with a laugh.

  “Chill your tits, woman,” he drawled.

  She sputtered and sat back with an astonished look on her flawlessly beautiful face. “Er, uh . . . excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” Parker said on the edge of a growl. “This is your first time. Chill.”

  He paused for good measure and gauged her reaction so far.

  “Let me show you how we do it.”

  Using the chopsticks, he picked up one of the lobster chunks and held it up to her mouth.

  The expression on her face was really, really funny. He’d chosen his words carefully to see if she remembered. Well, he chuckled silently. I have an answer to that question! Not only did she remember, her eyes told him that he was on thin ice. Fuck yeah, this was fun.

  “C’mon,” he urged with a cheeky grin that he just couldn’t stop. Motioning with the chopsticks to encourage her to take a bite, he said, “Trust me.”

  He couldn’t wait to see what she did. Challenging her so outlandishly was either going to pay off handsomely or get his ass handed back to him. Depended on what she really wanted. If all that was left was anger, she’d push back. And he’d know. But if she let him play this out, well. . . .

  She didn’t hesitate. Not really. Nor did she surrender. Typical Angie. But she did open her mouth and let him slide the lobster tidbit onto her tongue while staring him down with a mocking glare.

  When she bit into the seafood, he quickly snagged the other piece and popped it into his mouth.

  “Oh, my god,” she groaned. “That is so good.” Unf.

  Hehehe. Score one for the lobster. That shit was so good, it’d make you forget your name. He had her fucking attention now.

  Next, he took a few chunks of marinated beef and lowered them into the hot oil using long skewers. She watched everything he did.

  And so it went on for the next hour as curiosity kept her entranced and Parker pressed his advantage. In the end, she’d allowed him to feed her. He’d orchestrated every mouthful. Chose each morsel. It was a powerful statement he was making.

  Fuck it, he thought. This was who he was. If she couldn’t handle it, better they figured that out now because if she was game, he was going to move heaven and fucking Earth to make this work.

  By the end of the evening, they’d consumed a surprising amount of food, ending the fondue feast with an assortment of dessert and fruit items, pots of melted chocolate, and thick gooey caramel, as they indulged their mutual affinity for all things sweet.

  But the best part? They’d done it as friends. Yeah, he’d pulled a power play by taking control, but they’d talked, a lot. Laughed a little, too. Glimpses of their previous friendship shone through. It was good stuff and had been worth the challenge. Finally, real hope.

  As they walked out of the restaurant, Parker thoroughly enjoyed watching her as he brought up the rear, enthralled by her incredibly long legs in the very skimpy skirt. Even dressed down as she was, the woman was hot as shit.

  Waiting at the valet stand for his car, he kept a proprietary arm around her waist and balls out stared down another person waiting nearby for a cab who was checking Angie out with a rather obvious leer. The venomous look Parker shot him duly chastened the man who quickly ducked his head and looked away.

  Just as he spied his car coming round the bend, Angie flinched at his side and let out an enormous belch that made every eye in the vicinity turn. He couldn’t believe a sound that big had come out of such a little thing.

  Parker was flabbergasted and watched with barely controlled hilarity as her hands flew to her mouth in embarrassment. All he could see were two startled eyes, wide and mortified, looking at him over her fingers.

  Dramatically rolling his eyes as the Porsche pulled alongside them, Parker murmured in a low, mockingly long-suffering voice low that only she would hear, “Can’t take you anywhere . . . sheesh!”

  Angie was giggling uncontrollably as she flopped like a true klutz onto the passenger seat when he held her door open. She was still giggling as he leaned across her to buckle the seatbelt in place. Taking full advantage, he slid two fingers underneath the belt from shoulder to hip caressing her the whole way. She wasn’t laughing by the time he pulled back.

  After handsomely tipping the valet, Parker slid behind the wheel of the powerful car and pulled out into traffic only instead of immediately heading back to L’Auberge where Meghan was no doubt waiting to see how they’d fared, he made for an area nearby. Pulling into a parking spot that offered some privacy, he put the car in park and reached for her. Sliding his big hand to the nape of her neck, he tugged her toward him and growled, “If you’re wondering if I’m going to kiss you, the answer is yes. So why wait?”

  And he kissed her. Gently at first. Sweet sighs mingled with the sound of their smacking lips until her sighs became muted whimpers. And then the kiss turned hot and carnal. His tongue demanded everything, and she answered, shyly. Her bashful response thickened his blood. Before long, she was demanding as much as she was giving. The whole thing was a delicious, intense tasting that was wet, deep, and intoxicating.

  Back on the road, Parker was wildly satisfied with the knowledge that regardless of whatever conflict remained in her heart and mind, Angie couldn’t subdue her need for him. It was there for him to taste. Yep. This was more than worth fighting for.

  After parking in the visitor’s section at the hotel, he kissed her again. I mean, what the hell, right? He had a well-known sweet tooth, after all, and nothing was sweeter or more satisfying than the taste of his Spanish Angel. And she melted each time his lips touched hers, so how the hell was he supposed to resist such overwhelming temptation?

  When he helped her from the car with a gentle tug, she propelled straight into his chest with a slight thud. Looking down and seeing her dainty hands splayed across his broad chest as she struggled for balance nearly brought Parker to his knees.

  He couldn’t help himself. Shutting the car door, he trapped her against the Porsche with his body. Panting slightly, she stared up into his face.

  “No more running, baby girl. Understand?”

  Angie bit her lip and looked away.

  “No,” he growled. “You will look at me, Angelina. Whatever happens—you don’t hide your eyes from me.”

  He had to give her credit. The fearless girl he knew looked back at him with eyes that never wavered.

  “I’m confused, Parker. By everything. You. Me. Being back here again. The way that makes me feel.” She shook her head and grimaced. “I’m not running, but that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing.”

  “Understood.”

  They walked in silence, holding hands the whole way until they made it to the cottage where he kissed her yet again. Ever the gentleman, he escorted her to the door but declined the invitation to come in and say good night to Meghan.
He wanted the last moment they had together to just be the two of them.

  “Enjoy tomorrow and make sure you set your brother’s credit card on fire, okay?” he snickered.

  She smiled sweetly and told him, “I hear they have an awesome mani-pedi for guys. Wanna slide by and get your nails done?”

  He laughed and gave her a hearty smack on the behind. “Fuck, no.”

  “SOOO . . . ?”

  Angie chuckled. The door wasn’t even completely shut and already the third degree had begun.

  “We smoked the peace pipe. There won’t be any need for pistols at dawn,” she smirked. “What are you watching? Is that John Wayne?”

  “Yes, yes, yes.” Meghan laughed. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the fireplace, her back against the sofa, a pillow in her lap, and a bowl of ice cream balanced precariously on the pillow.

  “Found it on Netflix. John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara. A favorite of my mom’s. Filmed in Ireland, of course! It’s called the Quiet Man. The lead character reminds me of the Major.”

  “Is that a blush I see?” Angie quipped.

  Meghan snatched up the remote and muted the TV. “All right, lady. Enough about some old movie and me. Spill the beans, Angie. Is Parker still on the naughty list?”

  “I guess everyone knows now, huh? About me and Parker.”

  “Did you really think you were going to keep something like that a secret? C’mon! We knew after ten seconds with both of you in the same room that something was up. What the hell did you think would happen?”

  “Alexander hasn’t said anything,” Angie mumbled.

  “Nor will he,” Meghan was quick to assure her. “Unless, of course, you two make a mess of things. Or if a certain lawyer needs an ass kicking.”

  “Does Alex know . . . I mean, did Parker tell him what actually happened or are we talking about a non-specific blanket admission with no detail?”

  “Honey,” Meghan jeered as she patted Angie’s hand. “Men don’t generally do detail—not even with each other, unless there’s a crisis. I can tell you that the confession was rather broad but time date stamped. Alex knows whatever happened, took place while he was playing war.”

  “Is he mad?”

  Meghan shook her head as she finished off the last of her ice cream. “Mad? No. I wouldn’t call it that. I think the timing got to him. If I understand correctly, you were still a teenager and Parker should have known better.”

  “It was all a misunderstanding,” Angie began, but Irish cut her off with a deep laugh.

  “Misunderstanding? How do you figure? Did his penis fall into your vagina by accident?” she jeered.

  Angie screeched. “Oh, for god’s sake, Meghan. What the hell?”

  “What? Too blunt or not blunt enough?” Irish blurted. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to tell where to draw the line. Tori, on the other hand,” she giggled, “would have gone full on cock and pussy.”

  “Yeah, while Lacey would be covering her ears and muttering about Mr. Stiffy and Miss Wetagain.”

  They hiccupped and wiped away tears after having a good old-fashioned giggle fest.

  “If you want to tell me, Angie, I’m all ears. I won’t lie to the Major, but I do know how to explain things to him in a way that won’t send him off half-cocked. It might help if I knew a little bit of background.”

  They sat together on the floor beside the fireplace and talked. Meghan was a smart lady. Telling someone she trusted her side of what happened was long overdue.

  “So, let me see if I have this straight. It was just sex, you overheard him being a guy, and what? No big deal even though you haven’t spoken in years?”

  “Sounds ridiculous when you put it like that,” Angie muttered.

  “Aw hell, Angie. You were what? Nineteen? Just barely twenty? I was a fucking idiot at that age. College keg parties in the woods. Beer pong. Whatever happened with you guys back then was far from ridiculous. And, for the record . . . if it had been me, I would have caused a huge scene and probably ended up having one of my brothers neuter the bastard. Of course, that would have proved a little embarrassing after hearing his explanation, but at the time? He would have been toast.”

  “I think I always knew I was overreacting, but honestly, if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else. You’re right about one thing. I was too young. Waaaay too damn young to be playing those sorts of games with a man so much older. And more experienced.”

  “Hmmm, that part surprises me,” she admitted to Angie. “Makes me question what was really going on in Parker’s mind.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Well,” Meghan began thoughtfully, “Parker and Alex are a lot alike and while they both have a dominant streak a mile wide, they’re also two of the most decent, honorable men alive. All the Family Justice guys are. It kind of baffles me how he acted so out of character, considering your age, if all he was doing was fucking around. If it was, as you say, just sex. That doesn’t sound at all like the man I know. I mean, if you think about it, he was jeopardizing his relationship with Alex and for what? To get laid? And destroy two friendships? Are you so sure it wasn’t more than that?”

  “Oh god, Meghan,” she groaned. “How the hell should I know? It was all so fast. Not our friendship, of course. The intimate thing. One minute, we were the best of friends, and the next, I was so far out of my league it wasn’t funny. The man overwhelmed me sexually, and in a lot of ways, that experience still affects my life and the decisions I make.”

  “You’re talking about your engagement?”

  She nodded but Aldo wasn’t the only example of her poor decision making. Right after she’d relocated to Spain, some three years after the blow-up with Parker, she’d had a brief fling with an English wine merchant. But he, like Aldo, was a paler version of her ideal man. And Parker had everything to do with that. She’d begun to worry that what was best for her didn’t seem to peacefully co-exist with what her heart wanted.

  A marriage between the Esperanza and the Valleja-Marquez families wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Two old world patrician Spanish families? Shit. Magazine articles were written about stories like that. But while she respected Ronaldo Senior and his long career as a financial expert, she despised what Aldo did.

  He was what was called a celebrity handler, managing a stable of so-called VIPs with a heavy emphasis on one peculiar category—that of the celebrity DJ. Angie always wondered what the hell that even meant. She hated having to go to events that normally would have fascinated her on a professional level purely because she despised the fake kissy face nonsense and unctuous entitlement that came along with the whole celebrity thing.

  But Ronaldo? He loved that crap. Thought they’d make an awesome team—he with his management credentials and business skills and her with her extensive experience planning everything from product launches to award celebrations.

  On the surface, it would have been the smart thing to do. Marry into an old family and get a suave European husband with a career in sync with hers. Hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Vacations on the Riviera. Sailing in Greece. Weekends in Tuscany. Whoop-de-fucking-do. Only thing was, Aldo brought out the wanton in her exactly never. As in ever.

  While he was pursuing her and even after their engagement, he’d behaved himself appropriately but Angie wasn’t stupid. She had no passion for the man whatsoever, and he wouldn’t have put up with that shit after they were married. Eventually, she was sure, being surrounded as he was by too much goddamn privilege, he would have ended up cheating. So what seemed like perfection on the outside had a nightmare inner core.

  It would have been different—maybe, if she’d been able to work up any sort of desire for Aldo. He was good looking in that haute couture kind of way but he wasn’t what you’d describe as being a manly man. Everything about him left her cold.

  She wanted a man who would take her in hand and make her feel like a woman. Someone who challenged her on every level
. He had to be firm and commanding with a strong protective streak that would make keeping his family safe from harm a priority. And he must have a sense of who he was as a man. She wasn’t interested in a poser or a wannabe. No boys need apply.

  Gee, she snickered. I wonder who I just described.

  “Aldo was the least of it,” she finally admitted to Meghan. “I cut myself off from the things that makes me happiest because I couldn’t face what we did. Staying away only hurt me. I’d say that qualifies for questionable decision making.”

  The fire crackled quietly as the two sat there deep in thought.

  “Is that why you wanted to come here now? To re-visit some of the decisions you think were bad?”

  Pfft. “I knew the minute I ended my engagement that returning to Arizona was inevitable. Even then, everything was already leading me here. When you asked me to help with the wedding, I figured waiting for any more signs would be kind of ridiculous.”

  “Hmmm.” Meghan fiddled with her engagement ring and settled back against the sofa, stretching her legs out toward the fire. “And what about Parker? How did you see this playing out?”

  An excellent question. How did she see it all play out?

  “God, Meghan. I’ve loved him since I was old enough to know what love was. There isn’t a second of my earliest memories that don’t include him. He’s my touchstone in some strange way. When I made the honor roll, it was Parker’s praise that meant the most. If something made me unhappy, three words from him and I’d be smiling again. Does that make sense?”

  Meghan snickered and rolled her eyes. “You’re making a funny, right? My whole life changed the second your brother came into it. From that moment on, everything got filtered through him. Every thought, feeling, taste, desire, everything. Does Parker being your touchstone make sense? Honey . . . nine months ago, if you’d said that, I would have thought you daft or a hopeless romantic. Today, I say, welcome to my world.”

  Angie smiled. Red was so easy to love. Alex better realize how fucking lucky he was to have such a strong, spirited woman.