“Okay then,” I said, extricating myself from his hold though it was the last thing I wanted to do. He was half-naked and smelled like soap and warm, clean man. But if I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for the bus, then late for work. “And just so you know,” I couldn’t resist adding, grabbing my purse and slipping on my heels before heading to the door. “You’re not the only one going commando today.”
The look on his face was priceless as I shut the door, making me grin for the next thirty minutes straight.
*
Parker and I didn’t discuss what had occurred in my apartment or the things he’d told me. I’d thought about what he’d said … and hadn’t said. He’d basically admitted he was jealous, without using that word, but hadn’t answered when I’d asked him if he’d changed his mind about us. It was like one step forward and two steps back. And I was through doing that with him.
I had lunch with Megan, telling her my story of the dinner from hell and how upset Ryker had been, how angry I’d gotten, and how we’d made up last night, but I left out the part about Parker. I wasn’t even sure how I felt about what he’d said, much less try to explain it to someone else. She listened sympathetically as we ate.
“So Ryker’s okay with the whole parents-being-rich thing?” she asked when I’d finished.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “At least he said it wasn’t bullshit, that he was in love with me. That’s good, right?”
“Are you in love with him?”
I grimaced. “I’ve tried to not think about it too much. It’s been fun, yeah, but I keep waiting for him to wake up and be like why am I with you when I could be with some hot model chick? Sayonara, babe.”
“What if he has feelings for you, and is thinking long-term,” she persisted. “Will you let yourself fall in love with him?”
I thought about it, thought about how I’d felt when he’d said he was in love with me.
“I think it’s too late,” I admitted.
Megan smiled. “Of course it is,” she said. “I know you, and you can’t sleep with a guy for four months and not fall in love with him. You wouldn’t be you.”
When I got back to the office, I had the unpleasant surprise of sharing an elevator with Monique. Wearing a red wrap dress that hugged her curves with a plunging neckline, I caught more than a few men looking at her twice.
“Monique, good to see you again,” I said to her, faking polite conversation as Parker’s comment about her wanting me fired echoed inside my head.
“Ah, yes, you are zee secretary, no?” she asked.
I gritted my teeth and smiled. “Executive Administrative Assistant.”
She waved her hand in the international equivalent of Whatever as the elevator doors opened. She breezed out and I followed, nearly choking on the cloud of perfume left in her wake.
Monique pushed open the door to Parker’s office, letting herself in before I could stop her.
“Parrrrrker,” she purred. “I’m so sorry I missed dinner last night. I want to make it up to you.” She sat her skinny ass right on the edge of his desk, and I had a brief fantasy of shoving her onto the floor.
Parker had been working but glanced up now that she was sitting on his file.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “She didn’t stop to wait—”
“I am his girlfriend,” Monique interrupted me. “I do not need to wait for zee secretary to say my name.”
The look of disdain on her face made my hands clench into fists and I opened my mouth to tell her what she could do with her stupid name, but stopped when Parker spoke.
“It’s fine, Sage,” he said with a nod in my direction. “Close the door on the way out, will you?”
Our eyes met and I couldn’t help remembering the things he’d said last night. Yet here he was, with his hand on Monique’s bare knee.
“Of course. Sir.” If I could’ve slammed the door on my way out, I would have. Unfortunately, it was one of those cushion-close doors that drifted silently shut no matter how much force was used. Dammit.
I watched without looking like I was watching them, which meant I got nothing done for the next ten minutes as they sort of talked but mainly kissed. It was so unlike Parker to let something personal interfere with work that I had to wonder what was so great about Monique. Maybe he just felt more for her and was completely infatuated with her. Maybe French girls just did it better than American girls.
The green monster of jealousy set up shop right next to me, cracking its knuckles and digging its claws into my gut. I was stupid for believing Parker last night. He wanted what he couldn’t have, and even that had been fleeting. He seemed perfectly happy playing suck-face with French Barbie.
“Wow. Is that—”
“Yeah,” I answered Megan’s unfinished question. She’d sidled up next to me, both of us staring through the glass. Parker and Monique were talking now, their faces close together. His hand was still on her leg … correction, now it was her thigh. I ground my teeth together.
“She’s really pretty.”
I shot Megan a glare at her unabashed praise and her cheeks flushed. “I’m just saying,” she muttered.