“That’s because they all kiss your ass.”
“You should try it sometime,” she said dryly.
Yeah, maybe when he was dead. “We’re closer now than ever. Give me one good reason to back off.”
This garnered him another long look through the phone. “It’s not your job to question why,” she said. “It’s your job to get back into lean, mean fighting shape for the next case.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Jesus, Parker, would you please knock that chip off your shoulder?” she griped. “You had a close call. Nearly bought the farm in fact. And we lost Ned.”
Parker did his best to keep his expression even, though it was possible he was grinding his back teeth into powder.
“The case was dropped and you’re taking some well-deserved time off,” Sharon said. “Go heal and grieve like a normal person. Learn to relax.”
He was healed. Mostly. The grief sucked, but he was handling it. “Maybe I am relaxing.”
“Why do I doubt that?” she asked, and shook her head. “Do you have any idea what I’d do with a month off?”
“Go stir-crazy?”
“Go to a deserted island,” she corrected. “With nothing but my loaded e-reader and a cabana guy to feed me grapes. Make that two cabana guys.”
“Yeah,” Parker said dryly. “That’s exactly what I’d want to do on vacation.”
She stared at him, the stare of a woman who knew how to bring a man to his knees. “Just tell me you’re not going to do something stupid and use your considerable skills to let me and this office down.”
He had no intentions of being stupid. As for his skills, he didn’t plan to share his plans or any of the details of his “vacay,” at least not at this time.
Hence his temporary housing. Wyatt had said his older sister had this big old house and would welcome the chance to earn some extra money. Parker had heard older sister and imagined her to be middle-aged, in possession of no less than five cats, and maybe a little wrinkly to boot.
Zoe was none of the above . . .
Which meant that, as a supposed investigator, one of the best of the best, he’d just broken one of his own rules—assuming anything.
Guess that made him the ass. Because Zoe couldn’t be much more than thirty and was deliciously curvy, with honey-colored hair that fell in loose waves to her shoulders and matching eyes. The-girl-next-door pretty even if she was dressed like a grandma in a long, floral print dress.
Not that it mattered. Not only was she the sister of an old friend, but also he didn’t mix business and pleasure.
Ever.
Even if she owned a goofy, wonderful big old dog that was currently drooling on his foot.
“Parker,” Sharon said impatiently.
“Have I ever let the office down?” he asked.
She swore and shook her head. “You’re a serious pain in my ass, you know that?”
Ditto, he thought grimly. “Love you, too,” he said, very aware of the soft footsteps that had come down the hall and stopped in the doorway of the living room behind him.
“And a smart-ass,” Sharon added.
“Aw, now you’re just trying to sweet-talk me,” he said.
She shook her head and ended the call.
Parker shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned to face Zoe, who was unabashedly eavesdropping.
She had the good grace to look apologetic, nibbling on her lower lip, which reminded him of how sweet that lip was. He’d enjoyed her kiss, short as it had been, but it was messing with his head in a very different way than Sharon ever had.
Work had been his priority for so long he’d neglected his own personal needs. It had been months since he’d been with a woman. He’d have liked to say that would change now that he was on “vacation,” but he knew it wouldn’t.
At least not until he caught Carver. All his concentration was going toward catching that fucker, and maybe then he’d take a badly needed real vacation. Maybe somewhere in the South Pacific after all, for some surf and turf.
Maybe Alaska for some fishing.
Hell, maybe he’d actually go home.
But he knew the truth. He’d do none of those things. He’d jump into a new case, like always. Because his life was his work.
“Sorry,” Zoe said. “Thin walls. Sound carries in this old house.”
“Something to remember.”
She stared up at him, her eyes somehow both sharp and yet vulnerable at the same time, her sassy mouth slightly curved.
Damn. He loved a sassy mouth and was a complete sucker for sharp yet vulnerable eyes.
Not interested. You’re not interested, you don’t have time to be interested. . .
And maybe as long as he kept repeating that to himself, it might actually have a chance at being true.
Four
The next morning Zoe opened her eyes and blinked blearily at the clock. Seven thirty. “Oh crap!” she gasped, and leapt out of bed.
She’d forgotten to set the alarm.
That was what she got for staying up late working on the damn kitchen sink—which she’d only made worse. Even more demoralizing was the fact that Parker had stayed up just as late, working at her kitchen table on his laptop, a witness to the whole debacle.
He’d been watching when she’d pinched her finger between a pipe and her wrench. He’d offered to play doctor and patch her up and fix the sink.
She’d declined both offers with far more reluctance than she’d ever admit to.
He’d been watching when she’d broken a pipe and had ended up with a gallon of water in her face—and though he’d made a clearly superhuman effort not to laugh, she’d caught the small smile around the mouth she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Which really ticked her off because he’d been talking to a woman on his phone yesterday, one he was clearly close to. For all she knew, she’d kissed another woman’s man. Good going, Zoe.
So she’d again refused his help with yet another terse “I’ve got this,” which if anything seemed to amuse him all the more. He’d still been watching when she’d finally sworn the air blue, shoved clear of the sink, and stalked off to bed.
Now she was late for work on top of grumpy. She was giving a flight lesson and then had a flight scheduled. Kicking it into gear, she raced out of her bedroom. Oreo was right on her heels with an excited bark, hoping the rush was to breakfast. They both ran down the hall and straight into the bathroom, belatedly realizing the shower was running.
She’d forgotten she was sharing a bathroom with her houseguest.
She’d never forget again. He stood in her shower, the glass steamed but still plenty clear enough to see him—every single inch of him as his hands ran over his lean, hard body, water and soap sluicing in their trail.
Good sweet baby Jesus . . .
Slow and calm as you please, Parker turned his head, those deep green eyes meeting hers where she stood frozen in place.
“Need something?” he asked, casual. Calm. Like it was an everyday occurrence to have a woman walk in on the middle of his shower.
God. God, he was so beautifully made, and now that the soap had vanished into the drain at his feet, she could see him even more clearly. His entire right side was a bloom of fading bruises, the colors of a kaleidoscope. Heart pounding in her ears, she took a step back and right into the doorjamb, hard enough to scramble her wits.