All I Want

by Jill Shalvis

  Finally, she sighed. “Listen,” she said. “I need to do something. Like, to you.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “Just go with it.” And she fisted her hands in his shirt, hauled him down to her level, and kissed him.

  WTF, his brain said. Oh yeah, his body said, taking all of one nanosecond to get on board. Somehow he managed to hold himself perfectly still because this was her show. But Christ, she’d taken him straight to heaven, pressing her soft, beautiful body in close, murmuring something that sounded like, “Dammit, no man should smell so good, ever . . .” before deepening the connection and kissing the living daylights out of him.

  He moved then; he couldn’t help it. His arms came around her, one of his palms sliding to the nape of her neck to hold her in place. The kiss detonated: a hot, intense tangle of tongues and teeth, one of those raw hot kisses that was so real, so in the moment that he lost every single thought in his head. Well, except one, which was Holy shit hotness, Batman. “Zoe,” he heard himself growl, and in response she shivered in his arms and tightened her grip on him before slowly pulling back. “What?” he managed to ask.

  “Your phone’s ringing.”

  He hadn’t even noticed. He was hard as a rock and yep, his phone was indeed ringing, although not as loudly as they were both breathing. Pulling back, he glanced down at the ID screen just as the phone stopped ringing. He’d missed a call from Amory. He blew out a breath and met Zoe’s gaze.

  “You get a lot of calls,” she said. “From women.”

  He could have told her Sharon was his boss and Amory his sister, but he didn’t. For one, his equilibrium was off and he never dealt with that well. And maybe it would be best if she thought he was a player. No way would she fall for a player.

  His own personal insurance policy.

  He always kept his worlds all carefully compartmentalized, each division in its own little box. His family and all that went with them in one box. Work in another.

  He needed a whole new box for Zoe . . .

  She took a step back from him. “Not that I’m keeping track or anything,” she said. “Your life’s your life. The three W’s and all that, right?”

  He suddenly wished he’d kept his mouth shut about the three W’s. “Why did you kiss me?” he asked, his voice unintentionally thick and husky.

  “I was trying to figure something out.”

  “Yeah? And what was that?”

  She stared at him and slowly shook her head. “Never mind. My fault. I muddied the waters.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “No, you know what? This is all your fault. You and your stupid sexy smile.”

  “Wait— What’s all my fault?”

  She blew out a breath. “Everything!”

  “Perfect,” he said. “Thanks for clearing that up for me.”

  “Hmph,” she said, and vanished upstairs.

  Fifteen

  Zoe lectured herself through her nighttime routine. That was stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . Kissing him had been so stupid. Because she’d started out in perfect control but he’d wrenched that from her with ease as he’d taken over her kiss . . . God.

  What had she been thinking?

  Nope, scratch that. She knew exactly what she’d been thinking, that she’d needed to compare Joe’s perfectly nice—and very short—kiss to Parker’s perfectly not-nice kiss. Granted, Parker’s kisses were a lot of things—panty-melting, heart-attack-inducing, sensually charged among them—but “nice” wasn’t one of them.

  And she’d been very glad for that.

  She went straight to bed and lay there, absolutely refusing to relive the feeling of being in Parker’s arms or having his mouth on hers. She was over that and over him.

  She was trying so hard to get that life she wanted, and it didn’t include falling for the likes of the mysterious Parker James—a man she couldn’t read, couldn’t boss around, couldn’t walk all over.

  Couldn’t anything.

  Well, except kiss him, as it turned out. She seemed to manage that feat just fine.

  But he wasn’t for the likes of her. His job was dark, his life was dark, and in spite of all the things he’d told her she was pretty sure he had a few more secrets up his sleeve. But one thing that wasn’t a secret was that he would leave. He’d walk away and go off to his next adventure, and she didn’t see him looking back.

  Which was fine. Totally fine. It just meant she needed to move on, too, because otherwise he was dangerous to her mental health. The three W’s were one thing when she didn’t care so much.

  But not so good when she did.

  And she did . . .

  She purposely turned her mind to other things. The date tonight with Joe had been both enlightening and interesting.

  He’d told her he was going to buy the FBO from the parent company and wanted to know if she wanted in. He wanted her as a business partner.

  She’d have to buy in and that would take more loans, but she’d have a stake in the business, one that was profitable right now and by all indications planning on staying that way.

  And yet she hesitated. It was a big step, a huge commitment . . .

  So what was holding her up? Not anything she wanted to admit out loud, but the truth was that while she talked a big game of settling down, her vagabond early years had stuck with her. If she was a partner, she wouldn’t be able to take off on a whim and go . . .

  And again, where are you going? You love Sunshine. Everything you want is here and you get the wanderlust fix by the very nature of your job . . .

  She sighed and gave up, kicking off the covers to pad downstairs to find something to eat. What she found was Oreo, paws up on the counter, licking the tile, snuffling as he made his way along the length of it from sink to the toaster.

  “Oreo!” she said, horrified.

  Not looking all that sorry, he got down and slunk to his bed. She stared at him. “The other day an entire loaf of cinnamon bread went missing. Was that you?”

  Oreo crossed his paws, set his head on them, and closed his eyes.

  “You’re a big faker,” she said.

  He huffed out a sigh.

  Zoe made herself a small plate of cheese and crackers. Relenting, she shared it with Oreo and went back upstairs.

  On her nightstand, her phone buzzed an incoming text from Kel.

  You up?

  She stared at the phone and debated with herself. On the one hand, she’d made a promise to herself to go out and have fun dating. On the other hand, the man she wanted to date wasn’t exactly available beyond his “vacation.”

  Which meant chin up, she needed to move on.

  She texted back: The answer is yes.

  There was a pause and then Kel’s response. Is that a blanket yes, because that could cover a lot of ground?

  There in the dark, she laughed. And laughing was good, right? She thumbed her response: Just the date for now.

  When her phone buzzed again she was expecting more from Kel, but it was her brother asking how she was doing. She responded that she was good because she’d long ago learned that if she said great, Wyatt would call bullshit—and in this case he’d be right. But if she said shitty, he’d come over and demand to know what was wrong.

  Two seconds later he responded. Saw Parker tonight. Something going on?

  Damn. She loved Wyatt more than she loved just about anyone with the exception of Oreo and—sometimes—Darcy, but her brother had a nose for sniffing out when she was troubled.

  And Lord was she troubled at the moment. Not that she was ready to share that, so she thumbed in an innocent: Like what?

  Wyatt’s answer was simple. Shit, Zoe.

  Yep, she was in deep shit. And she had no idea how to explain. Maybe she should have Parker tell Wyatt what was going on between them.

  Hell, maybe she should have Parker explain it to her.

  She took a moment to imagine that. Parker seemed more like a “show, don’t tell” sort of guy, so natura
lly it would be a very hands-on explanation. Hands on, clothes off . . .

  A moment later she had to physically shake herself out of the fantasy. A little hot and bothered, she texted Wyatt back. No worries, I’ve got this.

  Wyatt’s response didn’t take long: Of course you do . . .

  She closed her eyes and then woke up what seemed only moments later, discombobulated. The color of the sky outside her window suggested she’d slept for a few hours at least, since dawn was arriving. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and then stilled at the odd noise that sounded like . . . kittens crying? Shaking her head at herself, she rolled over and smiled at Oreo. “Kittens,” she said with a laugh. “As if. You’re terrified of cats.”

  She flopped back and closed her eyes again, and woke up at her usual seven o’clock. Sitting up, she looked at the other side of the bed, where Oreo usually was stretched out snoring and hogging the covers.

  No Oreo.

  Confused, she tossed back the covers. “Oreo?” He never got out of bed before her; the lazy lug could sleep all day. Chilly, she grabbed her blanket, wrapped it around herself, and staggered down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she stopped short.

  Parker was in one of the chairs, Oreo sitting at attention at his side, the both of them staring down at what Parker held in his lap.

  Two wriggling, mewling kittens.

  Dog and man looked up at her in unison. Dog smiled.

  So did the man. Parker’s gaze made her heat up from the inside out. She could stare at him all day, at that latent energy, the lean muscles, the smile . . . Of course he wasn’t exactly the sweet, gentle sort of man she’d dreamed about, but then again, he was holding kittens—Wait. “Why are there kittens in my kitchen?” she asked.

  “Interesting hair,” Parker said.

  Good. This was good because it was a sharp reminder that he was not sweet or gentle at all. Period. But she still reached up and felt her hair. Yep, definite bed head. Yikes. Possibly when he’d said “interesting hair,” he’d actually been sweet and gentle there for a second.

  And had she taken the time to remove her mascara last night? She glanced at her reflection off her toaster. Nope. She had raccoon eyes. She was quite the catch. “Don’t change the subject,” she said.

  “I wasn’t aware we were in the middle of a conversation.”

  “You have two kittens in your lap,” she said. Except they weren’t in his lap. They were climbing up his chest. One, an adorable gray ball of fluff, had made it to his shoulder and stopped to lick his ear.

  Zoe understood that. She wouldn’t mind doing the same.

  The orange tabby one leapt off Parker and landed on top of Oreo.

  One-hundred-plus pounds of Bernese mountain dog froze in place while the kitten nonchalantly padded along the dog’s back and sat on top of his head.

  Oreo blinked, and the kitten leaned forward and batted his nose.

  Parker laughed, grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck, and set it back in his lap. “Stop terrorizing the poor dog.”

  “He doesn’t like cats,” Zoe said, and then shut up in shock when Oreo leaned in and licked the kitten’s face, leaving it drenched.

  “Mew,” the kitten said, staring up at Oreo adoringly.

  “Woof,” Oreo said softly. Gently. And then nosed the kitten, who fell over in Parker’s lap and exposed its belly.

  Oreo licked that, too.

  And then the sound of little kitty purrs filled the room.

  Zoe was boggled. “Okay, someone needs to explain what’s going on here.”

  Oreo looked at Parker.

  Parker snorted and met Zoe’s gaze. “The cute little girl next door has big eyes and was crying over the kittens she wasn’t allowed to keep. And, apparently, I’m a sucker.”

  “For big eyes or crying girls or kittens?” she asked.

  “All of the above.”

  Dammit. That was sweet and gentle, too. But this thought took a backseat to the realization that he hadn’t shaved and had stubble on his jaw. She wanted to feel it on her skin.

  Everywhere.

  And then he rubbed his hand over that jaw and the ensuing scraping sound made her good parts quiver. “So you’re just a closet softie?” she asked dubiously, and damn she sounded all breathless.

  “No.” One corner of his mouth quirked as if he knew where her mind had gone. “Well, maybe a little,” he said. “Don’t tell.”

  He was teasing her. Because no way was he a softie, in any sense of the world.

  And yet the proof was crawling all over him.

  “One of my rules was no pets,” she reminded him, having to fight the urge not to pick up the adorable gray kitty.

  “Actually,” Parker said, “you said no dogs.”

  Crap. He was right. Since when was everyone but her right? “What are their names?”

  Parker shook his head. “Kaylie didn’t name them; her mom wouldn’t let her because she wasn’t going to be allowed to keep them.”

  She looked down at their adorableness. Manda was a sharp woman. Zoe wouldn’t name them either or there was no way she’d be able to get rid of them. “What are you going to do about them?”

  The gray kitten had been chewing on one of Parker’s fingers, her entire body fitting in his big hand. He stroked her tiny head with his thumb, her rumbling purr filling the room.

  Zoe’s ovaries actually ached.

  “I’m going to get them adopted at Belle Haven’s adoption clinic next Saturday,” Parker said.

  Okay, so that was a good plan, and he was a good guy for helping out Manda and Kaylie, both of whom could use the help. But why was it that every single time Parker not only toed her line but stepped over it, she liked him even more? How ridiculous was that? What was her problem? All she needed to do was remember the things about him that drove her crazy and she’d be okay. Her heart would stay safe.

  Still holding one of the kittens, he leaned over and kissed Oreo right on the tip of his nose.

  Oh, for God’s sake. How the hell was she supposed to keep her heart safe when he was nice to her silly dog and he saved kittens and he fixed the things in her house that were broken while pretending not to in order to save her own damn pride?

  He sat there, rumpled from sleep, like maybe he, too, had just rolled out of bed, seeming very comfortable in her kitchen.

  Like maybe he belonged there.

  And then there was the fact that all he had on was a pair of sweats, dangerously low slung and showing off his abs and those sexy cut muscles on his lean hips, the ones that made women stupid with lust . . .

  And never mind his eyes and how they seemed to heat when he looked at her. She’d never experienced anything like it, really. She’d enjoyed the men she’d been with and knew they’d enjoyed her back, but not a single one of them had even looked at her like Parker did. “You knew what I meant regarding the no-animals thing,” she said. “You keep breaking the rules on purpose.”

  He smiled a little to himself at that and gently set the kittens on the floor, where they immediately cuddled up to Oreo.

  Then he stood up and stepped into Zoe. “Not true. You only had two rules, the other one being no overnight guests. Haven’t broken that one.”

  She took a step back and found herself up against the counter.

  He set hands on the tile on either side of her hips and dipped a little to look into her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of rules.”