“I haven’t been looking,” Parker said, unknotting his bow tie and sliding it from beneath the collar. He handed it to the assistant. “Besides, no one except you can help me remember clients,” Parker said.
Right. It was a work thing. Not like a … a date … or something.
“Yeah, I should be able to go,” I said, wondering with a sense of unease how Ryker was going to take this. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to quit my job anytime soon, so he needed to get over it already.
Parker moved behind the privacy screen the tailor had set up and I tried not to think about him getting undressed as he put his suit back on. Parker was discussing things with the tailor and I debated getting a drink from Parker’s stash of scotch, wondering if he’d say anything about it if I did. I’d reluctantly decided against it when the tailor and his assistant finally packed up and left.
Glancing at Parker, I saw he hadn’t bothered with his jacket or tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. I looked away from the patch of skin peeking out.
Just then my stomach decided to give a horrendous growl, reminding me that dinner with Ryker had been cut short before we’d actually gotten food.
Parker gave a low chuckle. “Sounds like you could use something to eat. Me too. I’m starving. Let’s get out of here.”
My cheeks were warm with embarrassment and I jumped to my feet. “Good idea.” I’d just grab some work off my desk and then flag down a cab. Did I have anything at home to eat? A frozen pizza, maybe. I bet Deirdre had made Parker something awesome, as usual, which made me completely envious.
I’d finished stuffing the files into my purse when Parker came out of his office and locked the door behind him. Always the gentleman, he waited for me to precede him into the waiting elevator.
“Where are you going?” he asked when I punched the button for the lobby.
I frowned at him. “Um, home?” I’d thought that was pretty obvious.
“Deirdre told me she left a big pan of manicotti at home,” he said. “You may as well come by and have some. I won’t be able to eat it all. I never can. She cooks enough food for ten people even though I keep telling her it’s just me.”
Manicotti. Yum. Growing up with an Italian father meant pasta had been a staple in our house, lovingly hand-crafted and smothered in homemade marinara. Just thinking about it made my stomach growl again.
Parker laughed as the elevator doors slid open on the parking garage level. “Then it’s settled,” he said. “Come on.”
It was starting to feel dangerously comfortable and normal to ride in Parker’s BMW, though following him into his apartment still fell under the title of Surreal. Yes, I’d been there many times before, but usually it was without him holding the door open for me to step inside.
I was immediately hit by the mouthwatering aroma of pasta baking, and I took a deep, appreciative sniff.
“Smells like we’re just in time,” Parker said. “Make yourself at home.” He took his briefcase into his office as I looked around to try and figure out the best place to sit.
I didn’t think making myself “at home” was the best idea, so I kind of stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. He didn’t say anything about it when he returned, though, just headed to the wine rack and chose a bottle of red.
“You’re off the pain meds, right?” he asked, pausing before pouring the liquid into the second glass.
“Yeah. It makes me too sleepy and a little nauseous.” Ibuprofen had been good enough to keep the pain in my shoulder under control, thank goodness.
After the fight with Ryker, a glass of wine sounded good. I was depressed about it now that my temper had worn off, and didn’t know what to do. I swallowed a big gulp of what Parker poured for me while he took the pan out of the oven.
As I’d expected, the food was amazing. I moaned appreciatively as the first bite hit my tongue, my eyes drifting shut. I hadn’t had homemade Italian in a while, and it felt like coming home.
Parker suddenly cleared his throat and my eyes shot open.
“Good?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“Mmhmm,” I managed as enthusiastically as I could with my mouth full.
The wine was excellent and the food amazing, and before I even realized, Parker was refilling my wineglass for a third time and I was finishing off my second helping of manicotti.
“I love Deirdre,” I sighed when my plate was empty. Oh, wow, I was so full, and really regretted wearing tights today as the waistband felt like it was cutting into my now bloated stomach. Ugh. And after heavy Italian food and wine, I was lethargic and sleepy.