Sandra Steffen – Lone Star Wedding (страница 7)

Her hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their task.

“Come on, Hannah. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. Even my father thinks it’s taking a toll on me. From the looks of all the brochures and swatches of material and files in this room, you’ve been busy, too. I have to eat. You have to eat. We might as well eat together.”

He gave her a second dose of his sexy smile.

“I can’t, Parker.”

Parker understood a simple no when he heard one. This wasn’t a courtroom, and she wasn’t a witness he could badger. She was a woman, and she’d made herself perfectly clear. He straightened and carefully returned the clasp to the edge of her desk. He did a quick inventory of the room. There were framed photographs on several shelves behind her; a yellow flowered sofa sat at a comfortable angle near a matching overstuffed chair. White lights were strung through the fronds of huge potted plants. Balloons bobbed from strings that were tied to an antique filing cabinet, a cardboard cut-out clown propped nearby.

It occurred to him that Hannah Cassidy made her living from planning more than weddings. Redistributing his weight to one foot, he said, “I’d like to hire you.”

“What?”

She had a suspicious mind. He’d given her good reason for it. “I’m thinking about having a party.”

“You’re kidding.” Her disbelief showed in the tone of her voice. Recovering slightly, she said, “What kind of party?”

“I don’t know. I just thought of it.”

“Parker, why are you really here?”

That was a good question. He worded his answer very carefully. “It isn’t because I have a lot of idle time. It’s just the opposite. Yesterday I was trying to talk an irate husband out of hiring a private investigator to follow his wife, whom he suspected was cheating. I was in the middle of trying to explain that in no-fault divorce states, there’s no use. Suddenly your image crowded into my brain. You’re interfering with my concentration.”

Hannah didn’t know what to say. Doggone it, she felt complimented. She had no business feeling that way. She and Parker were complete opposites. While she planned weddings down to the smallest detail, he took marriages apart, asset by asset.

“Look. I have an appointment across town with a very anxious bride to be.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a price list and several brochures depicting the different themes she’d used in planning parties. Placing the pamphlets near the edge of her desk, she said, “You can look these over, if you’d like. If you truly want my help planning a party, let me know. Otherwise…”

He glanced at the brochures, the rest of her statement hanging in the air, unfinished. That “otherwise” spoke volumes. He could hire her services as a party planner, but she didn’t plan to see him socially.

“I see,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“Goodbye, Parker.”

Hannah watched him stride toward the door. It was in her own best interests to let him go. And she was letting him go. It was better this way. A clean break from what could have turned out to be a disastrous relationship.

She covered her lips with three fingers, remembering how it had felt to kiss him. If she let him go, how would she ever know what might have been?

She didn’t need to know. It was for the best. For both of them.

She wondered if he’d really been burning the candle at both ends. Had there been shadows beneath his eyes?

“Parker?”

His fingers were already wrapped around the doorknob when he turned around. His eyes looked hooded. She couldn’t read their expression from here. “You forgot your brochures.”

He retraced his steps, taking the brochures from her outstretched hand. Praying she didn’t regret this, she took a breath for courage and said, “I can’t have lunch with you, but I could free up my schedule for this evening. We could talk about this party you suddenly want to have then.”

The eyes staring into hers filled with a curious intensity. “Dinner?” he asked.

She pushed her chair out and stood. “That would be too much like a date.”

There was a good reason for that, Parker thought. “What else did you have in mind?”

“Do you own a bike?”

“A motorcycle?”

She shook her head. “A bicycle.”

“Not since I was thirteen.”

“That’s what I thought. You probably don’t have a pair of in-line skates in the back of your closet, either. Something tells me you get your exercise playing racquetball or walking on a treadmill. I prefer more spontaneous activities.”

Parker had the strangest urge to defend himself.

“Maybe we could go for a walk,” she said.

“You want to take a walk?”

She smiled. “That sounds lovely. Thanks, I’d love to.”

Parker shook his head. She thought she was so smart. That was okay. He happened to like smart women. “I’ll stop by around seven.”

“You can if you want to, but I won’t be back until seven-thirty.” She was grinning openly now.

“Seven-thirty, it is.”

“Oh, and Parker? I have one small stipulation.”

Of course she did.

“You can’t try to arm wrestle me into using my influence to change my mother’s mind about going public with her engagement to Ryan.”

Parker took a frank and admiring look at her. Her hair was down today, her dress a creamy beige that seemed to blend in with her surroundings. She had a great body, but he was beginning to realize that in front of him stood a woman who preferred to be recognized for having a great mind.

“If we arm wrestle,” he said, his gaze delving hers, “it’ll be to determine how far we go.”

Leaving her to mull that over, he strode loftily out the door.

Three

“Look, Parker, there’s a paddleboat.”

Parker glanced at the contraption moored to the edge of the boardwalk that lined the San Antonio River. Yes, he supposed the apparatus floating on two plastic pontoons was in the paddleboat category. Why Hannah was hurrying toward it was beyond him. “Where are you going?”

She slowed down as she glanced over her shoulder, but he noticed she didn’t stop completely. “I heard they were going to try these out again along with the newer, motor-powered ones they’ve been using these past several years. Let’s take a boat ride. Hurry, before someone else beats us to it.”

Following her around a table of women who were lingering over desserts and iced teas along Paseo del Rio, or River Walk, a dining and shopping district in downtown San Antonio, Parker wondered if he was the only one who noticed that people weren’t exactly lining up to ride the leg-powered devices. He figured there was a good reason for that. It required energy, something that Hannah hadn’t run out of since they’d set off on their “little” walk an hour and a half ago.

It turned out he and Hannah had two entirely different approaches to walking. He’d expected a leisurely stroll down Smith Street, and had assumed that taking a walk involved walking. Hannah took flight. He’d planned to find a quiet table in a coffeehouse somewhere. Hannah had informed him that she didn’t drink coffee. It was the caffeine. It was bad for a person. When he got home, Parker was going to have to alert the press. If he had enough energy left to make it home.

She had more energy than she could contain.

She’d met him at the door wearing an airy brown skirt that rode low at the waist and stopped a few inches above her ankles. Once again, it wasn’t the color that drew his attention, but the fit and style. Her shirt bared her arms and part of her shoulders. It wasn’t tight, but it was cropped short at the waist. When she moved just right, he caught a glimpse of her navel. And the woman moved a great deal. If she ever found herself in need of another occupation, she could try her hand at modeling. Her mixture of wholesomeness and sensuality would undoubtedly sell everything from women’s jeans to lingerie.

He was imagining her in lingerie right now. A serious mistake for any man who needed to keep his wits about him.

Hannah stepped onto the paddleboat. The seat was wide enough for two people. It occurred to her that Parker wasn’t excited about climbing off the boardwalk and sitting on the other half of the seat. He appeared lost in thought, the same breeze that lifted the hair off her shoulders trifling with the collar of his knit shirt. “Are you coming?” she asked.

He slid his hands to his hips, peering first one way and then the other. “How far do you want to go?”

She stared up at him, remembering when he’d said they would have to arm wrestle to determine that. His gaze warmed at least ten degrees as it slid over her, letting her know he was thinking the same thing. Oh, no, he didn’t. She wasn’t touching that line.

“There’s a little ice-cream store just beyond that curve in the river.” She pointed to a series of lights upriver, but wound up waving at another paddleboat coming their way.

“I don’t recall seeing an ice-cream place in the area.”

“It’s been there forever. I thought you said you grew up in San Antonio.”

“My family wasn’t the type to go out for ice cream.”

This was the first time he’d mentioned his family all evening. She’d met his father, the legendary J. D. Malone, at Lily and Ryan’s party. She’d be hard pressed to say for sure whether she liked or disliked the man.