Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(33)

He had his pants on, and his shirt, though it was unbuttoned. Oh, Mommy.

“Are you going back to the reception, or making a run for the border?” he asked, giving her a quick once-over.

Border. “The reception. Esme’s my cousin. I’m a bridesmaid.”

“And will you acknowledge me down there?”

The question caught her off guard. Parker found she was pinching her pinkie. Hard. “Um, of course.”

“Really?”

There was something a little…dubious in his eyes. “Yes, James.”

He grinned, and once again, it hit her, the force of that incredible smile. “Is there any chance you’ll sit with me during dinner? Because as much as I love the Welles family…”

“They’re piranhas,” she said.

“They’re piranhas,” he agreed. “So?”

Wow. When she’d imagined the reception, she’d pictured a few painful hours with the Coven; James of the beautiful smile was much, much more appealing. “Sure. I’d love to.” Her ears felt hot. This was almost like a date.

“Great.” He was looking at her mouth again, and Parker felt her knees wobble. “Any chance I can drive you home?”

“There’s always a chance,” she murmured.

“I’ll take it,” he said. God, he was darling! How had she missed this? “Want me to go out first? So your evil cousins don’t bust you?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

Five minutes later, James was once again impeccably dressed. He stood in front of her, looked at her for a long minute. “See you down there,” he said, and there it was again, that smile.

“Okay.” She bit her lip, then, on impulse, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

His smile grew. Then he winked at her and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Parker sank down on the bed and let out a long breath.

So. Okay, it wasn’t as if this was her first time, obviously, not with a three-year-old son. But the whole earth-moving experience…she hadn’t had a whole lot of that. Sex had always been nice. Very nice. Fun. And sure, it had been a while. She hadn’t had a—oh, hell, a lover, though her mind cringed away from the word—since Ethan.

That had been four years ago.

Holy halos.

So maybe it was just a long abstinence with only the pulsating showerhead for company on nights she couldn’t sleep, but holy heck, sex with James Francis Xavier Cahill had been unbelievable. Heck yeah!

Parker realized she was smiling. Apparently, the best sex of a woman’s life did that to her. James the Cutie-Pie, Purveyor of Said Experience, did that to her, and the thought of that smile, that slightly crooked tooth, the way his eyes looked so happy when he smiled…her knees were feeling wriggly again.

She sighed. Dreamily, for heaven’s sake.

But for one second, she let herself feel dreamy. Moony. Dopey. Meltish. It was kind of wonderful.

Guess she’d misjudged Thing One. Strike that. James. James was nice. Wasn’t he? He was hot, sure, but he also seemed kind of… And he’d made sure she’d… Maybe they’d…well. She didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

“Okay, team,” she said aloud. “Time to rejoin the masses.”

She took another look at herself, hoped that while she definitely had a certain glow, no one would be able to tell she’d been done—the inhabitants of Lady Land gave a hot squeeze—and left the bedroom. There were the stairs—hello, stairs, thank you so much—and she started down.

And there, in the foyer, was her father, laughing with James.

Parker stopped, squeezing her pinkie hard. Harder, even, till the tip was numb. For some reason, her heart was sinking, and fast.

“Harry,” she said, her voice pleasant. “Didn’t think you were going to make it.”

“Parker,” he said. “Hello.”

James glanced at her with a little smile, then murmured something to her father, and for one horrible second, she thought he was telling Harry that they’d done the deed, and Harry would clap James on the back and congratulate him or something.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Harry said.

Oh. Maybe that was worse, having James need to tell her father when she was born.

“Thank you.” She lifted an eyebrow, something she’d mastered at age seven after watching her father stare a minion into tears.

“James, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Harry said. “Parker, we’ll see you in there.”

“Okay,” she said, watching as Harry put his arm around James. The two men walked away, but James looked back. Held up his hand and mouthed, Five minutes.

The thing was, she knew how long five minutes could last.

“Parker, where have you been?” It was Aunt Vivian, and she was pissed. “Dinner is being served! Would you please come in here? It’s Esme’s special day. Would it kill you to remember that? Honestly.”

And so she ended up with the Coven, after all. The only person at the table with an empty chair next to her.

Five minutes became ten. Ten became twenty. Salad was served. “Isn’t Uncle Harry ever going to come over?” Esme whined. He was halfway across the room, glad-handing someone and roaring with laughter.