Sophie's Playboy (19 page)

And his tongue! When it joined in, Sophie's ankles signaled their happiness. She didn't know ankles could be happy.

Parker had just lowered her to the sofa, his hand doing its best to make her ribs happier than her ankles, when the phone rang.

"Noooo," she murmured against his shoulder. She'd managed to pull his shirt down a little and was mapping the hills and valleys of his shoulder muscle with her tongue. A thorough mapping required no distractions.

The phone rang again and Parker started to pull away.

"No!" Sophie grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him back to her, leaning back on the couch so that he was on top of her. Her aggressiveness was rewarded by another devouring kiss. This time the parts of Sophie's body she was more used to noticing at times like these burst with little flowers of pleasure.

"Oh, Parker," she started. The click and whirr of the answering machine interrupted her.

"Sophie, it's Brie."

Sophie tried to ignore the machine, but it just wasn't in her. She counted on Parker to keep the flames burning, but he was apparently cut from the same cloth. He eased back a bit as if she needed more room to hear.

"I just wanted you to know I got to L.A. fine and I'm off on my adventure. I left my return flight info on the desk in the 175

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by Natalie Damschroder

spare room. If you can pick me Sunday, great. If not I'll get a cab." She paused, then added with her usual impishness,

"Have fun with your playboy now, you hear?"

The ensuing
beeeeeeeep
seemed to reverberate in the room. Sophie hoped Parker hadn't caught that last part, but knew by the change in tension that he had.

"What did she mean by that?"

"By what?" Sophie tugged at him but he refused to bend to her. She sighed. "The playboy thing? That—"

"Are you who I thought you were, Sophie?" he asked quietly. His mouth was close to her ear and she felt rather than heard the anger he was holding back. "Or are you just like the other Clubbies, working to get your hooks into a

'playboy?'"

"No!" She pushed him up and stood. "I don't want to get my 'hooks' into a playboy! I don't like playboys!" She shoved her hand through her hair and whirled in time to see hurt flash across Parker's face.

"You don't like playboys. But that's what I am, isn't it?" He stood and towered over her. His height advantage made her furious. "You keep saying I'm a playboy, Sophie. And here you are, plainly wanting me." He folded his arms. "Or are you able to separate like from want?"

How had this happened? A moment ago they were so deep into each other Sophie couldn't have found her way out. Now they were fighting.

"My sister is lonely," she tried to explain. "Our other sister, Kira, got married last year, and has a baby. She made some smart remark about my lack of love life, and that the guy of 176

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my dreams was a playboy. She said Brianna would fall for a Navy SEAL. Brie thinks I've fulfilled some prophecy and fallen for—" She gulped and hurried on. "Now she wants some guy to take her on an adventure."

"It sounds like she doesn't need a guy for that."

Sophie sighed and looked up at him. "She doesn't. But she thinks she does. And that's why she called you my playboy."

She stepped closer. "Parker, I don't think you're a playboy.

Anymore." She rested her hands on his chest and focused on her fingernails. "I think you have too much depth, and intelligence, and common sense, and ... and ... are too grounded in reality to be considered a playboy."

Parker rested one hand on Sophie's and used the other to lift her chin. "Finally."

Sophie smiled tentatively and was heartened by the smile he gave her back. He kissed her on the forehead, though.

"I think I'd better go." He released her and turned away, almost tripping over the dog, who wanted him to leave even less than Sophie did.

"Parker?"

He turned at the top of the step and Sophie half hid behind the front door.

"What happens next?"

His grin this time was full-blown.

"We go to bed."

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CHAPTER 11

Sophie spent that night and all the next day wondering if his play on words was intentional. Should she be wearing her black lace corset or her white cotton demi-bra?

In the end she compromised. After the show they were going to dinner at Morgan's, so she wore a black sleeveless blouse with a basic long swirly flower-patterned skirt. But she unbuttoned the skirt from the hem to her knees and under the blouse wore one of those dial-for-cleavage bras with a twister in the front that tightened the cups and plumped her breasts. Add four-inch heels—which she did only after the show was over—and she was killer.

To her immense frustration, Parker didn't seem to notice.

"Melina and Stevie are coming with us," he told her when they met by the front door. "We decided more opinions would help flesh out the rave."

"Protection, Parker? Are you afraid of me?"

"Yes, Sophie, I am."

She hadn't expected his honesty, but Parker reached in front of her to open the door and she didn't have time to respond before Melina and Stevie joined them.

"Keep the cost low, now," Stevie cautioned on their way to the restaurant. It was only a few blocks away, but Sophie was cursing her shoes before they'd gone halfway. She hadn't thought about walking there, but who drove in the city when they didn't have to?

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"What, no hors d'oeurves?" she teased their frugal program manager.

"It's pushing it for four of us to go on the station's dime,"

Stevie protested. "We don't have to rack up a huge bill."

Parker slung his arm over the shorter man's shoulders.

"Relax, Stevie. We need to get the full experience if we're to provide a full commercial."

"Why isn't it comp, Stevie? They should be giving this to us free if they expect a biased review." Sophie was joking, but Stevie threw a concerned look over his shoulder at her.

"The sales person forgot to discuss that aspect of the arrangement. Don't say anything about it, Sophie. Just let me handle it."

Sophie exchanged an amused glance with Parker. Both of them were adept at tactfully handling any business situation and, if Sophie hadn't been so focused on her romantic relationship with Parker, she would have viewed this date in exactly that light.

She suddenly felt like she was on more stable ground.

Except for the heels. She was very grateful when they got to Morgan's.

Parker spoke to the maitre d', who seated them immediately, apologizing for having to seat four at a small square table.

"We were only expecting Mademoiselle Macgregor and Monsieur Cornwall." He paused. "Pierre will be your garçon this evening. He will be with you
en un moment
." He gave a short bow and waddled back to his station in the lobby.

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Sophie rolled her eyes at the man's fake French accent. "I thought this was a steak house."

Parker nudged her with his elbow. "Lighten up. We need to rave, remember?"

Sophie tried hard to lighten up, but for some reason grumpiness had taken hold of her. Maybe it was the shoes.

Maybe it was having to do something that she didn't want to do. Maybe it was being squeezed between Stevie and Parker and bumping menus because no one had called ahead.

Or maybe it was because Parker was more engrossed in his menu than her cleavage.

She tried to ignore him back without feeling childish and couldn't quite manage it.
Grow up
, she told herself and focused on the entrées. It didn't take long for her to decide on the filet mignon and lobster tail. Something basic that she could easily judge. If Stevie had a problem with the price, she'd pay for it herself.

While the others debated what to choose, she looked around to examine the ambiance. Low lighting was romantic but placed in such a way that her companions and her place setting were visible. Tables were far enough apart that conversations didn't intrude on each other and people could get by without a hundred "
excusez-mois
." Sophie also noticed that the far end of the restaurant held families, while the section they were in was mostly adults. Clever. Both segments of the market were accommodated. She made a note on her small notepad.

"Is this restaurant non-smoking?" she murmured to Parker. He nodded. Another point in their favor.

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The waiter arrived and—speaking unaccented English, Sophie was relieved to note—took their drink orders. Stevie glared at Parker when he ordered a bottle of expensive wine.

"How about this," Parker offered. "If the advertiser doesn't cover it, I'll pay for the wine."

Mollified, Stevie went back to his menu.

"Are we ready to order?" The waiter stood next to the table, pen poised over pad.

We
. What, were they in a nursing home or something?

Sophie smiled sweetly. "Are you joining us?"

The waiter eyed her. "Can I?"

Sophie laughed, her bad mood immediately gone. "Maybe next time. I'll have the surf and turf with rice pilaf and a tossed salad, vinaigrette dressing, please." The waiter winked at her when he finished writing down her order. So she wasn't a
total
loss.

Parker ordered chicken cordon bleu, Melina a veggie wrap, and Stevie a hamburger.

"We have to get the full range of menu items," he protested when Sophie and Parker teased him. Trying to change the subject, he asked Melina if she was a vegetarian.

"No. Just trying to stay in my jeans."

"Please!" Parker raised a hand. "No diet talk! I get enough of that from my sister and stepmother."

Melina scanned the little group, then smiled uncomfortably. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I had a medical reason?"

The chuckles ceased. Stevie cleared his throat. Melina looked like she was sorry she'd said anything.

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"Are you pregnant?" Sophie blurted, hoping it was a

"positive" medical condition.

"I wish." Melina licked her lips, then drank some of her water. "I have PKD. Polycystic kidney disease. I'm on dialysis."

"Wow." Stevie stared at her. "You'd never know it. You look so healthy."

She shrugged. "Well, I am. Mostly."

"How often do you go to dialysis?" Sophie asked. She'd known Melina had frequent appointments that kept her away from the station when they weren't doing the show, but she'd thought she had another job. The producer kept to herself, and it surprised Sophie that she'd told them this now.

"Now it's three times a week. Next week I have to start doing four." She fiddled with her straw. "It may start to interfere with our off air work, so I thought you should know."

Sophie didn't know much about kidney disease, but she knew once someone was on dialysis, they didn't get better.

"Are you heading for a transplant?" she asked softly. There were tears in Melina's eyes when she nodded.

"Eventually." Her voice was hoarse. "My—" She stopped and placed her hand against her throat. "My family is small, and mostly in Greece. I'll have to rely on an anonymous donor."

Parker, who had been silently watching her until now, reached forward and put his hand on hers. "Whatever I can do to help, Melina, I'll do."

She smiled wanly at him. "Got an extra kidney?"

Parker didn't hesitate. "If that's what it takes, yes, I do."

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In that instant, Sophie leapt over the wall she'd been climbing and fell irrevocably in love.

* * * *

Sophie couldn't wait for dinner to be over. The waiter had apparently been told who they were and instructed to give them the royal treatment. He brought appetizers and soups and salads for them to sample. He let them linger over the early courses and gave them extra-warm bread with garlic butter. Their entrées seemed to be cooked with the freshest foods they had on hand and prepared exactly to order.

Still, Sophie had to concentrate on her meal so she'd have something intelligent to say when they did their commercial the next day.

Parker loomed large to her left, smelling like Drakkar and himself, his cutting hand brushing Sophie every once in a while. Her whole body felt flushed, her heart had swollen to fill her chest, and she could barely swallow a bite.

Parker didn't even seem to know she was there.

She was desperate to get him home, in her bed, over her, under her, next to her. With her.

It would be foolish, she knew, dimly hearing the chatter around her. She tuned in briefly.
Station gossip.
Her rushing thoughts blocked it out. Parker was not into commitment, and Sophie was. Parker would likely run screaming if she mentioned the "L" word.

No, she amended, he wouldn't run screaming. He'd gently and subtly introduce her to another guy, then slowly fade out of her life.

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They finally finished their desserts and called for the check. Their smiling waiter shook his head. "They won't let me." He shrugged and winked again at Sophie. She didn't respond, still deep in thought about Parker and her new feelings. He would fade from her life, she knew, but it would have a far bigger impact than ending his relationships usually did.

"I'm gonna just walk home," Stevie told them, and motioned down the street. He looked relaxed in a way he never did, mellowed no doubt by the gratis meal. He wandered away, whistling, his hands in his pockets. Sophie followed Melina and Parker back toward the station.

If she gave Parker any hint of what she wanted, what she felt, he'd be gone. And in leaving, he'd ruin her show and put her right back where she'd started. Restless, drifting, lonely.