Somebody to Love (Gideon's Cove #3)(48)

Maggie practically lunged for the baby and kissed his fat little cheek before assuming the position and patting the baby on the back.

“So how do you know Jamie?” Christy asked.

Parker took a sip of her drink. “He worked for my dad, and he’s helping me flip a house. Over near Douglas Point.”

“The hovel just before the Pines,” Chantal supplied.

Parker gave a painful laugh. “That’s the one.”

“Is he seeing anyone?” Beth asked.

Parker paused. “Um, not that I know of.” Though I almost kissed him the other night and have dirty thoughts of him hourly.

“If I weren’t happily married, et cetera, et cetera,” Chantal said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Sorry I’m late.” Lavinia plunked herself into the chair next to Parker. “I was watching Jim Cantore on The Weather Channel. When Storms Kill or some-such. I would do him in a New York minute. So. Who’re we talking about?”

“Dewey’s hot nephew,” Chantal said. “Jamie Cahill.”

“Little young for me,” Lavinia said.

“So what’s he like, Parker?” Maggie asked.

Yes, said Spike. Do tell. “Well, he’s…he’s very handy.”

This set the women off in gales of laughter. “Speak of the devil,” Chantal said, adjusting a breast. “Jamie! Over here!”

Parker’s ears began tingling as James walked over. Christy gave him a hug; apparently he’d seen Maggie at the diner, knew Lavinia from his summers here and shook hands with Beth, which caused her to blush a fire-engine red.

“Jamie, this is my son,” Chantal said, reclaiming her little bundle. “Admire away.”

James looked at the baby, who gazed back, then spit up. “Very, um…well fed,” he said, smiling at Chantal. Then his gaze shifted to Parker, and Lady Land stirred. Bugger.

“Pull up a chair and charm us, James,” Chantal commanded. “It’s sort of Maggie’s shower.”

“I’ll make your drinks instead,” James said. “I told Dewey I’d help out tonight. But have fun, girls.” He turned and went back to the bar.

“Tell me you don’t want a bite of that,” Chantal said, watching him walk away.

“Preach it, sister,” Beth murmured.

“So, Parker, I have to ask you,” Christy said. “Are you the Parker Welles who writes those books about the angels?”

Parker took another healthy sip of her mojito. “Afraid so.”

“Someone gave me a few Holy Rollers books when Violet was born.”

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to pretend you like them,” Parker said easily. “They’re pretty nauseating.”

Hey! We have feelings! The HRs pouted.

No, you don’t. You’re imaginary, Parker countered.

“Was that the one where the kitten gets crushed by the tractor?” Maggie asked.

“That was my favorite one,” Lavinia said. “Cried like a baby.” Thank you! the angels chorused. At Parker’s questioning look, Vin added, “Hey. You’re my cousin. I did a Google search on you.”

Parker finished her drink. “Anyway. The series is over, thank God.”

“So what are you working on now?” Beth said.

“Um, I’m not really sure yet,” Parker said. “I have a few ideas.” That’s great news! the Holy Rollers cheered. Yay, you!

If only.

“That dear boy is looking at you, Parker,” Chantal said. “You guys doing each other?”

“Ignore her,” Maggie said. “Chantal has sex on the brain.”

“It’s true. Your brother is a happy man,” Chantal answered, raising a perfect eyebrow.

“No more sex talk about our brother!” Christy ordered.

Parker laughed. “No, it’s not like that. He’s my father’s lawyer.”

“So?” Chantal asked. “He’s living with you. Have you seen him na**d yet?”

“No! And even if I was interested—” which you totally are “—he’s got the triple crown of no against him,” Parker said. “Younger, unemployed, um…”

“Impotent?” Christy asked.

“Prison record?” Beth offered.

“Married to the church?” Maggie said.

“Oh, he’s not impotent,” Chantal murmured, raising an eyebrow. “At least—” she paused for effect “—he wasn’t.”

“Oh, Chantal. Are you kidding?” Maggie asked.

“Hey, somebody had to do it. He was seventeen, and so cute.” Chantal grinned, and Parker felt an odd twang of…something. Another sip of mojito fixed that.

“Okay, time for a subject change,” Maggie announced. “Let’s leave poor James alone and talk about something else. I wear the crown of Kitty, so I’m the boss.”

“And such a lightweight,” Christy added.

“True. So, Parker, are you married? You have a little boy, right?”

“Nope, never married,” she said. “My son is five. Nicholas Giacomo Mirabelli.” She fished out her phone so Nicky’s sweet face could be admired.

“Is there a story of forbidden love here? Or did you get knocked up, like me?” Chantal asked, peering at the photo. “He’s beautiful.”