Playing Dirty (Risky Business, #2)(17)

My cheeks burned. Parker hadn’t made me work that weekend. I’d had plans with Ryker, so had fibbed to my parents about the exact reason I couldn’t come home. I steadfastly refused to look at Parker, and his silent presence beside me felt like a monolith of judgment.

“Yes,” Mom emphatically agreed. “You must talk to him, Parker. Sage needs time off like anyone else, especially when it’s to visit family.”

“Mom, Dad, stop,” I blurted. “Parker is my boss.”

They both fell silent and looked at me as though I’d sprouted wings.

“What do you mean?” Dad asked.

“She means that she wasn’t sure exactly how to tell you that she works for me,” Parker smoothly interjected. “And you’re absolutely right. Sage works much too hard. I apologize that she missed Aunt Iris’s birthday party. It won’t happen again.”

My eyes slipped closed as now shame warred with embarrassment. Not only had Parker caught me in a lie, he’d taken the blame for something that wasn’t his fault.

“Have you tried the foie gras?” Parker asked, changing the subject. “It’s really excellent.”

“We have not. Joe, let’s order some of that, shall we? It sounds delicious.” My mother was a master of conversation. She could make anyone feel at ease and smooth over awkward moments, such as now.

And the bump in the road that was me was effortlessly transitioned into dinner talk. I shot my mother a grateful look and she smiled a bit, though I knew I’d have some explaining to do later.

“I’m glad to see you tonight,” Parker said to my father. “There was an opportunity I wanted to discuss.”

He launched into business-speak with my dad and I sipped my wine, glancing at my watch nervously every few moments. By the time the foie gras came, Dad and Parker were talking like they were old buddies instead of business associates, laughing at some joke Dad had made.

“My girl here is your secretary, eh?” he asked.

“She’s my assistant, yes,” Parker replied, glancing at me. “The best one in the company, as far as I’m concerned, and irreplaceable. I have no idea what I’d do without her.”

That made me feel way too warm and fuzzy inside. I could tell both my parents liked that and my mother got a gleam in her eye as she looked at Parker that I didn’t like the look of at all. Mom had been waiting for me to meet Mr. Right since I’d graduated college, and I could practically see the wheels turning inside her head.

Feeling Parker’s gaze on me, I glanced up and our eyes met. I could swear he was sitting closer to me than he had been just moments ago, and I could smell the warm, spicy scent of his cologne. It was the closest we’d been in proximity to each other since I’d been wrapped in his arms in his bed.

Perhaps the same thought flashed through his mind, because his eyes darkened and suddenly it was harder to breathe.

“Sage?”

My stomach bottomed out as I spun around to see Ryker standing a couple of feet behind me. I nearly tripped in my haste to get up out of my chair.

“You made it!” I said, somewhat breathless. I stepped into his arms for a quick kiss, and while he obliged, I could tell he wasn’t happy by the tension in his body. Taking his hand, I led him to the table. “Mom, Dad, this is Dean Ryker. Dean, my dad, Joe.” I deliberately left off the last name.

My father stood to shake his hand. “Pleased to finally meet you,” he said.

“Likewise,” Ryker replied. His smile was genial enough, but I could tell it was forced as his gaze kept twitching back to where Parker sat, unperturbed.

“We happened to run into Sage’s boss,” my father continued, gesturing to Parker. “He’s joining us for dinner as well.”

“How nice,” Ryker said, his icy gaze meeting Parker’s, who just gave him a nod and a bland smile.

“This is my mom,” I hurriedly said, introducing them.

We sat down and that’s when I realized I was sandwiched between the two men. The table sat six, but there was an empty chair between Ryker and my father. Oh lord, as if this evening wasn’t awkward enough already …

“Nice shirt,” Parker said to Ryker, making my head swivel around. I hadn’t noticed, but Ryker had dressed nicer than usual. He still wore jeans and boots, but his shirt was button-down and he wore a sport coat underneath his leather jacket. Granted, it wasn’t a suit, nor was it the quality or caliber of Parker’s or my father’s attire, but I was glad he’d made an effort.

I leaned closer to him. “Yeah, you look really nice,” I said in an undertone. I smiled at him, hoping to put him a little more at ease, and he finally smiled back. A real smile that softened his eyes.

“Would you care for some wine, sir?” the waiter asked Ryker.

“Do you have any beer?” he asked instead.

“Yes, sir. Which brand would you like?” He rattled off a list of at least a half-dozen.

“Just a Budweiser, if you have it,” Ryker said.

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back with that, sir.”

“So you’re a police officer,” my mother said, pulling our attention to her. “What kind of police work do you do?”

“I’m a homicide detective,” Ryker replied.

“And is that dangerous?”