All I Want(49)

He waited as she guzzled the caffeine, and in less than a minute the cobwebs had cleared from her pretty eyes. It was fascinating to watch. She was fascinating to watch. He’d heard her come in at three thirty in the morning and had gotten up to check on her. By the time he’d walked down the hall, she’d been facedown on her bed and out cold. He’d pulled off her shoes and covered her up.

She hadn’t budged.

Cradling the mug now, she leaned back against the counter and stared at him like he was a puzzle and she was missing a few of his pieces.

Or maybe that was just how he felt looking at her.

“I heard you on the phone,” she said.

“Did you?”

“Told you, thin walls.” She sipped more coffee. “Same woman?”

“Yes,” he said. “My boss.”

“And?” she asked with a false casualness.

He took a closer look at her. Was she . . . jealous? Interesting concept, and one he realized he enjoyed the thought of way too much. “And nothing,” he said. “She’s a pain in my ass and I return the favor. She’s currently pissed off about the Carver thing.”

“Carver?”

“That’s the guy I’m looking for,” he said. “Tripp Carver.”

She blinked.

“What?” he asked.

“That name sounds familiar. I’m sure I’ve flown a Tripp Carver.”

He went still. If so, it was proof positive that Carver was really here, or at least proof he had been. “Recently?”

She shook her head. “I’d have to check the logs.”

He didn’t want to spook her, or ask her to do anything that would compromise her, but Christ. She’d flown the guy? He thought of everything that could’ve gone wrong and felt his gut clench tight.

“I didn’t have any problems,” she said. “Or I’d have remembered. The name just sounds familiar, is all.”

“Okay,” he said, not wanting to make a big deal of it and scare her. “But if you remember details, I’d be very interested in hearing them.”

She nodded and refilled her cup.

Not wanting to push, he changed the subject. “You’re not in your pj’s this morning,” he noted, vividly remembering yesterday morning. Hell, the remembering had gotten him through an entertaining shower just twenty minutes ago.

“Disappointed?” she asked.

“More than you know,” he said, and watched the flush cross her face. Good. Now she was remembering it, too, the feel of his hands and mouth on her. Her expression remained calm, but the pulse at the base of her throat began to race and gave her away.

In that moment he wanted more than anything to lay her back on the counter or the floor or whatever surface was closest and finish what they’d started.

“Are you going to get yourself in any trouble today?” she asked.

“No,” he said. He’d already gotten in as much trouble as he could. Not that he planned to bother her with that information.

She looked at him for a long beat and then shook her head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She turned away from him and picked up the gray kitten at her feet, nuzzling her to her cheek.

Parker stood and moved toward her. He took the kitten and gently set her down. Did the same for her mug. Cupping Zoe’s face, he tilted it up to his. “What?” he said again.

She hesitated. “Listen, I know we’re living in the moment and all that, and I get it. We’re not really friends and you’re not really on vacay. A job is a job.”

“You think you’re a job to me?” he asked.

“No. You were a job to me. I flew you, you paid. Just like what I am to you is a convenient place to stay.”

Maybe that had been the case in the beginning, but things changed. “I’m more than a job,” he said, well aware of the irony of what he was saying.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then what do you call when I had my mouth on your—”

She reached out and put her fingers over his mouth, giving one slow, serious shake of her head, though her eyes looked like she was fighting a shocked laugh. “That was a . . .” She appeared to struggle to find the right words. “I’m not going to call it a mistake,” she finally said. “Because nothing that feels that good could be a mistake.”

With her fingers still against his lips, he growled his agreement.

“But we both know where we were going with that,” she said.

“Please say your bed,” he said. “Or mine. I don’t care which.”

She stared at her fingers on his lips and then jumped when he nibbled one and then sucked it into his mouth. He was gratified to see her looking a little dazed.

“But it’s crazy,” she said. “We’re not even each other’s type.”

“I think we do all right,” he said.

She looked at him for a long moment. “You’re not what I’m looking for.”

“Ouch,” he said, much more lightly than he felt.

“You know what I mean. You’re leaving here sooner than later, and I . . .” She shook her head as if she were surprised at herself. “I need more from you.”

From you. “Not Joe? Or any other guy?”