Lone Star Wedding. Sandra Steffen

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      Parker sucked in a deep breath. Okay. She didn’t fit any preconceived notions he had, but with that little package opening between her teeth, several of his fantasies swirled through his mind then dove to a place straight south of there.

      If he didn’t say something pretty soon, he was going to lose his ability to speak.

      “Lady.” His gaze got caught on her mouth and he almost chucked his conscience. She reached for the package with one hand and looked up at him, her eyes large, her lips lifted in a half smile he found stimulating as hell.

      He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and took a small backward step. “Look, it’s a tempting offer, but I don’t have sex with women I don’t know. I haven’t in years.”

      Hannah froze. Sex? Was that what he’d said?

      A gong went off inside her skull, understanding dawning with all the subtlety of a hurricane. The consolation prizes, her assurance that she would alleviate the situation. He’d seen, he’d heard, and he thought she was a common…an ordinary…a woman who…

      She knew her mouth was gaping. Clamping it shut, she took a backward step. He’d said it was a tempting offer. Of all the egotistical…

      She could still hardly believe the insinuation. Why, she was no more a…

      A…

      How dare he…

      Why, she ought to…

      With utmost control and precision, she pulled the premoistened towelette from the little package in her fingers and shoved it into his hand. “You’d better get your mind out of the gutter, mister. And while you’re at it, clean your own stinking tie.”

      She spun on her heel and left him standing there, his eyes wide, his mouth set in a grim line, a crinkled, premoistened towelette in his outstretched hand.

      Hannah rushed headlong through the restaurant and out the side door. She hadn’t found Adrienne, but her instincts had been right. Excitement had been just around the corner. Excitement and embarrassment, that is. And nestled tightly between the two had been an incredible awareness of the man’s height, the breadth of his shoulders, his chiseled features softened slightly by a small cleft in his chin. For a moment when she’d first seen that little indentation, she’d wanted to place her finger there, ever so gently.

      She’d never felt so instantaneously attracted to a man. It had almost been lyrical. She’d practically heard violins.

      And he’d thought she was a hooker.

      Reaching her boutique in record time, Hannah unlocked the door that led to her apartment and quickly took the stairs. Feeling slightly off-kilter, she opened some windows and thanked her lucky stars that she never had to see that man again.

      “What I want to know is why y’all didn’t get his phone number?”

      Adrienne Blakely lifted the lid on a container she’d brought with her from the restaurant, sniffed, and replaced the lid, only to move on to the next container. A former Miss Atlanta runner-up, Adrienne was drop-dead gorgeous, loved bright colors, and had maintained her Georgia accent despite the fact that she hadn’t been “home” in nearly ten years. “And why in hades aren’t you using the air-conditioning?”

      Hannah scribbled a note on the wedding planner on her lap then popped a cocktail shrimp into her mouth. A fan stirred the hair at her nape. She’d changed into shorts and a tank top hours ago. Her feet were bare, her face clean-scrubbed. Returning to her notes, she said, “You know I like to dress light when I’m home.”

      The two women were upstairs in Hannah’s apartment, and as they often had these past three years since they’d met, they were spending a companionable evening together eating the leftovers Adrienne had brought with her after closing The Pink Flamingo for the night.

      Stretching out on Hannah’s sofa, Adrienne fluffed a pillow and placed it beneath her head. “And the other portion of my question?”

      “I told you,” Hannah said, shaking her head because Adrienne never let a question go, no matter how relaxed she appeared. “The man’s a shark.”

      “So?”

      “What do you mean, ‘so’?”

      “So y’all stay out of the ocean. That doesn’t mean you have to stay out of his bed.”

      “I’m not getting into his bed.”

      “Whyever not? Just because I’ve decided never to have sex again is no reason you shouldn’t.”

      “He mistook me for a prostitute. That’s hardly a good basis for a relationship.”

      “Who said anything about a relationship? I was thinking more along the lines of head-reeling, toe-curling, mind-boggling sex.”

      “Get real.”

      “I am real. One hundred percent.” Adrienne glanced at her chest. “It’s what cost me the crown. My mother reminded me of it a little while ago over the phone. Now, if I would have been born with a chest like yours, I would have been a shoe-in, but I didn’t develop large breasts naturally, and I just couldn’t put silicone in my body, not even for a title and a shiny tiara. My mother still hasn’t forgiven me.”

      “I thought you said it was the congeniality contest that got you.”

      “Oh, that.”

      Hannah smiled. Adrienne joked about that fated beauty contest from time to time, but she’d once confided in Hannah that the real reason she’d lost was much more scandalous and heart-breaking. Rather than reminding Adrienne of painful memories, she said, “Besides, if you had a chest like mine, you’d have to wear a bra.”

      Adrienne wrinkled up her nose. “That wouldn’t be any fun. But we digress. I thought he was sort of cute.”

      “Sort of cute? The man was a god in a suit and an imported silk tie, which you’ll probably be sued for, by the way.” Adrienne waved the notion away, and Hannah added, “And even if I was interested, I don’t know his name.”

      “Parker.”

      Hannah looked up from the wing chair where she’d been curled up for the past hour, and slowly lowered her feet to the floor. “What did you say?”

      “His name is Parker.” The trendy Southern blonde had Hannah’s undivided attention now, but Adrienne continued to stare at the chipped purple nail polish on her big toe. “Parker Malone.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “He told me.”

      “You’ve met him?”

      “Somebody had to save my newest waiter from the interrogation your john was giving him.”

      “J—John?”

      Adrienne laughed at the stricken expression on Hannah’s face. “You know I love to kid. Did you really dump a whole box of pastel-colored СКАЧАТЬ