Mine. Tonight, she thought, he's mine.
Then a voice shrieked from her left-- "Oh, yeah, baby! Come to momma!" --and Parker turned that direction, twirled the shirt once over his head, and sent it flying toward the shrieker.
What the hell?
Megan's mouth fell open, and the cold hard claws of jealousy cut right through her. He should have tossed that shirt to her.
His eyes cut back to hers, and she saw the fire of victory there. And she knew in that moment that he'd tossed the shirt away on purpose--and that he'd know damn well it would light a fire under her lust.
Busted.
He finished climbing the steps, walked the length of the stage, and flexed his muscles for a gaggle of screaming women.
Then he stepped back out of the light as one by one the other eleven men joined him on stage. But Parker was a hard act to follow, and as far as Megan was concerned, they'd all lost the competition even before it started.
The men left the stage as the votes were being tallied, and Megan was more relieved than she ought to be when Parker only politely nodded to the women who grabbed at him as he walked by, their greedy fingers brushing his bare skin.
He didn't hesitate, didn't pause. Instead, he moved straight to her side and put his hand on her waist, pulling her close so that she had no choice but to brush against his hot, naked skin. Oh. My.
"Miss me?" His words were a whisper, his breath caressing her ear, and she felt the tremor of contact rush all the way down her spine.
Yes. But she was hardly going to admit it. Instead, she purposefully took a step out of his embrace so that she could see him better. Then she lifted her brows and tried to look down her nose at him. Tricky, since he was a full head taller than she was. "Why would I miss you? You were only a few feet away."
He didn't argue, but his smug smile told her that he knew she was full of shit.
Well, fine. This was supposed to be their wild sensual encounter, wasn't it? And considering she was the envy of every woman in that room, she damn sure intended to enjoy it.
"Heads-up." Griffin's call came from a few feet away, and when Megan looked that direction, she saw a black T-shirt flying through the air.
Parker caught it with one hand, then smiled down at her. "What do you say? Should I put it on?"
"You'll disappoint every woman in this bar."
"Including you?"
She hesitated, then decided to go for the gold and tell him the truth. "No."
Surprise flickered in his eyes. "Why not?"
One deep breath for courage, then she explained. "Because I don't like to share."
He met her gaze and held it, and the heat of their connection swirled through her, making her a little dizzy.
She watched the play of his muscles as he pulled on the shirt, then drew in a sharp breath when his head emerged and his attention was once again fully on her.
"Let's get out of here." His voice was low and full of purpose, and with every breath in her body she wanted to say, "Yes."
Instead, she said, "We have to wait for the tally." Of course, that wasn't entirely true. The staff at The Fix encouraged the contestants to stay. But there'd been a couple of times when the contestants--even the winners--had scattered before the announcement. So long as they came back for the calendar shoot, it was all good. The party in the bar would still go on.
"If we leave now, I'll add an extra zero to all twelve donations."
She swallowed. "That's not exactly sound money management."
"On the contrary, I'm using my money to buy myself something I truly value, support twelve excellent causes, and incur significant tax deductions. Sounds like a win all around to me." He lifted his hand, signaling to Jenna, who was talking with Beverly.
Both women came over, and though it was clear that Jenna was about to say something, he cut her off with one quick motion. "I'm afraid I have to go deal with a crisis, and I need to head out."
"Oh. But Taylor said the results will be tallied any second."
Megan leaned forward, intending to say that he could certainly stay for a few more minutes, then shocked herself by explaining his plan to add an extra zero to every donation. "It's a shame he has to run," she concluded. "But it's such a generous offer. And think of the positive press coverage for The Fix that will go along with it."
She nodded at the two other women, who looked at each other, both appearing slightly baffled.
"I appreciate your understanding," Parker said to them, then added, "Ms. Clark? I believe my car's waiting on the street. Walk with me?"
Megan shot Jenna what she hoped was a what can you do expression, then hurried to match Parker's stride as she fought an almost overwhelming urge to giggle.
As he'd predicted, a car was waiting for him on the street. "When did you manage to send a text to your driver?"
His slow smile sizzled. "I'm a man of many talents."
"I'll just bet you are."
He put his hand on her lower back as he led her to the car, but they both stopped when Griffin called to them from the door. "Manning! Hey, Manning."
Parker turned, Megan at his side.
Griffin strode over, his eyes fierce. "What kind of game are you playing? And don't even think of bullshitting me."
"Nothing Megan hasn't agreed to."
"Griff, please..."
For a second, Griff said nothing, and Megan actually feared he was going to make a scene or ask Parker his intentions or insist on coming along as a chaperone.
Instead, he cocked his head and said, very slowly and clearly, "If I learn that you hurt her in anyway--one tear, one pricked finger, one bruised ego--I will ride your ass so hard you'll swear I was a hemorrhoid."
"Not loving the imagery," Parker said. "But I get the message. And you have my word."
Griff met Megan's eyes, and she silently pleaded with him to please, please just go back into the bar.
Thankfully--miraculously--he did.
Parker watched him go, and when he turned back to face Megan, she was surprised at the expression on his face. Not irritation, but something warm and friendly. Something like approval.
"You have a good friend in him," Parker said once they were both in the backseat. "Or is he more than a friend?"
"No," she admitted. "We'd thought maybe ... but no."
"Good." Parker's gaze locked on hers, his words sending a warm rush of pleasure through her. She had no idea how she'd gone from completely screwing up the flyer to being the recipient of such heated glances and sensual awareness, but she wasn't going to complain.
But at the same time...
She tilted her head, studying his face, and he looked back at her, amused.
"What?"
"It's just ... well, why good?"
His brows rose with obvious confusion.
"I only mean that if this is a one night thing, what does it matter if there's something between me and Griffin?"
"Distractions," he said, then turned slightly in the seat so that he was looking at her directly. Then he took her hand, his thumb gently stroking her palm as his low, melodic voice caressed her senses. "We've been talking in circles, so let me be clear. I intend to take you to sensual heights that you haven't imagined. To bring you such pleasure you beg me to stop, then scream my name in protest when I do."
Anticipation rippled through her, leaving her aching and breathless, but he didn't even pause in his relentless seduction.
"I'm going hold you close while you shatter, and then I will slowly and deliberately, put you back together again."
He moved his hand onto her thigh, this new delight making her gasp. His palm rested on the material of her dress, but his fingertip brushed her bare leg, and it seemed that the point of contact was all that she knew, all that she was. He was driving her crazy with that innocent touch coupled with his decadent words, and yet he didn't even acknowledge the state into which he'd already led her.
"That's my mission, Megan. And I intend to pursue it re
lentlessly." The fingertip stopped its erotic ministrations. "Do you understand?"
She wasn't sure she did. All she knew was that he'd intoxicated her with his words. But she nodded anyway. A little overwhelmed, a little numbed.
"Pleasure is as much a mental response as a physical one. Do you think you'd feel as much from my touch if you were thinking of another man?"
She swallowed, unable to imagine how any other guy could possibly squeeze into her thoughts past the force of nature that was Parker Manning.
"Do you remember what I said in my office?" he asked, then continued before her spinning thoughts could conjure an answer. "I want you, Megan. Body and mind. I want your submission. Your trust. Your surrender. Most of all, I want to please you. I want you to go as far as you can, and I want to be the one to take you there."
For the first time, she realized that he'd been easing the hem of her dress up as he spoke. Now his fingertip grazed her inner thigh, just mere inches from her now-damp panties.
"Do you understand?"
She nodded, not trusting her ability to form words.
"Good, then come on."
With a start, she realized that the car had stopped moving. More than that, they appeared to be on a tarmac, parked just a few yards from a small jet.
She turned to him. "Go as far as I can?" she said, referring to his earlier words. "Is this what you meant? A trip?"
"No," he assured her as he twined his fingers with hers. "But it's a start."
Chapter Six
Megan stood beside him on the tarmac, her eyes fixed on the jet, and Parker felt his stomach sink. In the car, she'd been responsive. Open to his touch. He'd seen the surrender in her eyes when he'd told her that he wanted her. He'd watched her skin glow as the heat of a blush warmed her skin when he promised her pleasure.
His fingertip still tingled from heat of her skin against his, and his entire body ached with a need that had been building since the moment she walked into the bar wearing that flirty dress with the fitted bodice, its tiny white buttons practically begging to be ripped open.
They should have kept driving. Hell, they should have gone to a fucking Denny's. Anything to have kept the look of growing passion in her eyes, and to have shut out this expression of apprehension he saw creeping onto her face.
All night, he'd craved the moments when he could be alone with her. In the car. On the jet. Long moments when it was just the two of them with a drink, a caress. With words and lips and decadent promises.
Now, though, he was afraid that Desire had made him her bitch, and that by bringing Megan here, he'd pushed her too far.
The irony was that he never used his money as an enticement for women. He never took them to his penthouse. Never flew them to exotic locations. Never zipped across town in his Ferrari or took them out for a Saturday afternoon shopping spree, filling their closets with jewelry and designer clothes.
When he was younger, he hadn't wanted to spend a dime of his father's money on himself or anyone else. And now that he had his own money, he only wanted to use it when it mattered.
Tonight, it had mattered. She'd mattered.
But he hadn't factored in Megan's hesitation. It was a mistake he would never have made in a business deal, but dammit, the woman had gotten under his skin. He was trying too goddamn hard, and he knew it. But somehow, he couldn't bring himself to back off.
He wanted her, dammit. And Parker had spent his life going after what he wanted.
He didn't intend to stop now.
"Megan." He'd released her hand after they'd gotten out of the car, and now he reached for her again. She avoided him though, crossing her arms over her chest as if blocking a chill. A ridiculous notion in the middle of an Austin summer.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
There was a pause, but then she answered, her eyes still on the jet. "I'm thinking that I wasn't expecting a plane. A car, sure. A taxi, maybe. Even a horse drawn carriage around downtown. But Parker, a plane?" She turned to face him. "I'm not sure that I should--"
"Do you trust me?"
"What? I--It's not about that."
"Of course it is. You're standing here trying to decide if it's wise to get on a plane with a man who's trying very hard to seduce you."
Her throat moved as she swallowed. "Maybe."
Well, that was progress. He pulled out his phone. "I don't own this jet," he said. "I'm just renting it. This is the contract," he added, showing her the screen. He opened a text message and forwarded it to her. "Send it to Griffin. Send it to all your friends. Send it to Kasey back in Los Angeles."
Her eyes widened at that. "You remember Kasey?"
"The friend from your apartment building. She came to a few parties with you."
"Well, that certainly explains a lot."
He shook his head, not understanding.
"How you managed to become such a big deal businessman so fast. You have a seriously impressive memory."
It was true, he thought. He did. But it was the most impressive when it was focused on facts and people that he cared about.
"The point is that the contract has all the information about the plane and the pilot. You're nervous about flying off and disappearing from Austin, but you don't have to be." This time, he did take her hand, and she let him. "You can trust me," he said. "I promise."
"I do trust you."
Those simple words filled him with more joy than he'd expected.
"I'm just not sure I trust myself."
He saw the shadow in her eye, and was sure she was thinking of Carlton. "But you do trust yourself," he pointed out. "That's why you're in Austin. That's why you came to talk to me about the contest yourself. That's why you're not dating Griffin even though it would be so easy to fall into that pattern with a friend."
"I think you're seeing serendipity more than me trusting my instincts. But it's a sweet thought," she added, before he could argue.
She lifted her head to focus on the plane, then drew in a deep breath even as he held his in anticipation.
"Will you tell me where we're going?"
"If you want me to."
"No," she said, squeezing his hand. "You're right. I do trust myself. And I trust you, too." She met his eyes, then smiled. "Wait to tell me until we're in the air."
* * *
The surprise, it turned out, was New Orleans, someplace Megan had never been, and so she was completely giddy when he told her that it was only an hour flight, and that they'd be having a late dinner at Commander's Palace before returning to the French Quarter for a night of jazz, drinks, and dancing.
Giddy, yes. But also confused.
Because despite the electricity that zinged between them--despite the fact that they'd been sitting side by side on the plush leather loveseat for a good fifteen minutes now--Parker hadn't made any sort of move to seduce her. Hell, he hadn't even touched her, and, frankly, she missed the way his finger had felt when he'd teased her thigh in the car.
And her body still ached from the way he'd eased her skirt up, his fingers coming so deliciously close to her sex that it had taken all of her willpower not to either squirm or beg.
Not to mention those sensual, seductive words with which he'd teased her. Words that had melted her, making her long for more than just talk.
But now, as they soared over Texas and Louisiana, he made no move at all. And, dammit, his lack of attention was starting to give her a complex. Especially after she'd logged onto the plane's wifi in order to text Griffin to find out who won the contest--Parker, of course--and he'd flat out told her to use a condom, to get at least a little sleep, and for God's sake not to lay her heart on the line.
Ironic that neither her heart nor her sleep schedule were at risk, and at the moment a condom would only be useful for making balloon animals.
She'd ended the text conversation by asking him to feed the cats and the fish. And then, since Parker's mention of Kasey had brought her to the forefront of her mind, she'd texted her LA
bestie, telling her that Megan was currently heading to New Orleans with Parker Manning, and would wonders never cease?
Kasey, of course, would assume that sex was on the menu. And the fact that it wasn't even an appetizer was what finally spurred Megan to her feet and to action.
That, and the fact that she'd just finished her second glass of wine and boldness came easier with alcohol.
"This," she said, as she stood in front of him, "isn't at all what I expected."
"No?"
His expression was innocent, but she thought she saw heat underneath his stoic facade. Heat, and possibly amusement. As if they were in the center of a cosmic joke and she was the one who didn't get the punch line. A possibility that, frankly, only added to her frustration.
"No," she said firmly. "From the moment I stepped into your office, sensual words fell from your lips like honey. I mean, honestly, you could qualify for the dirty talk Hall of Fame. But that's all I get? Talk? Haven't you heard what they say about all talk and no action?"
The corner of his mouth curved up, and heat bloomed in his eyes. "You're saying you thought I'd touch you? That I'd slowly strip you, then tease every inch of you mercilessly with my tongue? That I'd kiss you until you were breathless and wet and ready. That I'd stretch you open with my fingers, then thrust my cock inside you and ride you wild and hard until you begged for mercy? Is that what you thought, Megan?"
Her breath came faster with each word, and her legs went weak. "That's what I'm talking about," she finally said, despite the fact that her mouth had gone dry. Her sex, she noticed, wasn't dry at all. Not anymore. "All talk, no action. Well enough of that."
She saw his eyes go wide and heard his sharp intake of breath as she moved to him, then straddled his lap. Her skirt spread in the process, and she could feel the hard length of him against her sex, separated only by his jeans and her panties.
"I said I wanted you, Megan. And I do." His voice, which had been teasing before, now sounded raw. "Right now, I don't think there's anything I want more than to rip off those damn panties and have you ride me all the way to New Orleans. But we can't. Not yet."
"The hell we can't." She rocked her hips so that his erection stroked her sex and teased her clit, making all the thoughts in her head evaporate, leaving only a wild, violent need. "Please."
"Megan, oh, Christ, Megan." He drew in a sharp breath. "Dammit, Megan."