Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(28)
“What bed?”
He shrugged. “I figured you were too much of a princess to sleep on the floor, so I ordered you a bed. Nothing special. Just a frame and a box spring and mattress.”
“James…” Her cheeks burned, and she swallowed.
He smiled. Oh, that was dangerous.
Parker did not find Thing One particularly appealing, though she could recognize that he was attractive. He just didn’t do anything for her. No, those sulky good looks and arrogant bone structure…yawn. He looked like a Gucci model or a bored playboy. Not her type. Not at all.
Until he smiled. He had a wide, generous smile, almost too wide if there was such a thing, and his eyes crinkled far more than a young man’s should, and heck yeah, she felt it in Lady Land, uh-huh.
And given that they were apparently stuck together for the summer—and as James Cahill was the last guy she’d slept with—this was a very dangerous thing indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
TWO YEARS AGO, the thought of sleeping with Thing One had never crossed Parker’s mind.
Really.
Since the day she’d met him, Thing One had bugged her. Intellectually, she knew that it wasn’t his fault that Harry had sent him to the hospital the day Nicky was born. Just doing what the boss said, following orders, covering for Harry’s complete and utter lack of interest. Whatever the case, roughly five hours after she’d given birth, a stranger had been standing in her hospital room. Not her father.
She knew that Harry had viewed her decision to A) have Nicky and B) not marry Ethan as a personal slap in the face, but Parker had honestly thought that once he saw his first—possibly only—grandchild, he’d thaw. He’d never viewed her books as much of an accomplishment—well, she couldn’t fault him on that. But a baby, come on. Surely he’d be thrilled to meet his grandchild.
But no. He’d sent a stranger. The fact that the lawyer had thought to buy a stuffed animal only reinforced the fact that Harry had sent nothing but legal documents. No flowers—apparently one didn’t reward one’s wayward daughter for having a bastard child—and nothing for her beautiful, perfect, miraculous baby other than Nicky’s cut of the family trust. Thing One’s presence announced—shouted—the fact that her child wasn’t important enough for Harry to leave work…Harry, who once stopped a meeting with the head of Goldman Sachs because his nine-year-old daughter had come to his office to tell him she won the school spelling bee.
And then Thing One had kept on showing up, sent by Harry or accompanying Harry, and while Parker knew that it was at her father’s behest, it still drove her crazy. Obviously, Harry couldn’t bear to be around her, even with Nicky there. Thing One was at Nicky’s baptism, his first birthday, his second birthday. If Harry summoned the rest of the family to a party, which he did once a year—the better to rub their noses in his superior wealth—Thing One would be there, too.
That first day in the hospital, she’d almost felt sorry for him—he was so awkward and uncomfortable. But then he tried to cover for Harry, lying about how her father was so sorry he couldn’t come—as if Harry had ever apologized for anything. It made it worse, knowing that a stranger knew how low she was on her father’s list of priorities. And then, Thing One turned rather glib, a Harry Junior, almost, and that line, Parker, always lovely to see you, was so sarcastic. She knew she was nothing but another duty given to him by Harry.
Before long, Harry was calling Thing One “son” and inviting him to those pretentious wine-tasting dinners with his cronies or taking him out on Granddad’s wooden sailboat. Mostly, though, Parker was more irritated with herself than with Harry. He hadn’t sought out her company for years; why would he now? Her father had missed her graduation from Miss Porter’s, though he did make it to her graduation from Harvard and spent the time schmoozing senators and Kennedys. He never came to her book signings. Even when she signed at Barnes & Noble in New York City and there was a line out the door, he didn’t show up.
On the occasions that Harry did interact with her son, Parker had to admit, he wasn’t bad. He’d ask Nicky questions about what he wanted to be when he grew up—standard awkward adult fare—as compared with Gianni Mirabelli, who’d get down on his arthritic knees and pretend to be a horse or teach her son how to make the perfect meatball. But once, Parker came upon Harry and Nicky in the study, coloring, and a warm, hopeful feeling had rushed through her so fast, though what exactly she hoped for wasn’t clear.
A month later, she invited her father to come to Nicky’s graduation from swimming class; her boy had won the Eel Award for fastest swimmer. Wonder of wonders, Harry’s assistant called back to say yes, Mr. Welles would come, and Parker really thought maybe a new era was about to start, now that Nicky was old enough to warrant her father’s interest.
Harry didn’t show. But there was Thing One, expensive suit, calfskin briefcase, as if Nicky wouldn’t notice the difference.
Sleeping with Thing One? Please. It never even crossed her mind.
Until her cousin Esme’s wedding.
Harry had two older sisters, Louise and Vivian. They, in turn, had three daughters, Esme, Juliet and Regan. When Parker was young, the four cousins would play together during the summers at Grayhurst, unaware of the tension between the adults.
But then her parents divorced, and Althea took Parker to Colorado, only to send her back East for boarding school in Connecticut. During term breaks, Parker would sometimes stay with one of her aunts, who lived on the same street in giant homes that weren’t big enough for them, and listen to them complain about her father.