"Five seconds," Melina warned.
Sophie focused on the pages of notes in front of her and tried to ignore her nipples, which were still quite prominent under the worn snugness of her shirt.
"Good afternoon, and welcome to Rant and Rave! The talk show that lets you get it off your chest." Her voice stuck on the last word and she gently cleared it. Melina laughed safely on her side of the glass. "Today's Rant topic is stereotypes.
Why are they bad? What don't you like about them? Why do they fit, despite all our attempts to eliminate them?"
She paused for two seconds to transition. "Take Parker, here. He's rich. Pots of money. Cute, too, as you can tell if you've seen the bus posters. And he used to spend all his time at the country club. He's smart, so that defies the rich playboy stereotype, but he drives a Porsche. I mean, how cliché is that?"
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Parker rose to the scripted challenge. "I'm not a cliché, Sophie. I don't only drive a Porsche."
"No, you're right. You drive the new symbol of your great wealth and testosterone—a massive SUV."
"They're safer in the snow."
"Worthless on the ice."
"Better than my Porsche."
Sophie couldn't help it. She snorted a laugh. "Okay, enough, Parker. Let's see what our callers have to say.
Melina?"
"Seth is on line one."
"Hi, Seth! What do you have to say about stereotypes?"
"If rich guys drive sports cars and big luxury SUVs, it's because women love them."
Sophie quirked an eyebrow at Parker and checked that off her list. Sometimes their callers were so predictable.
Seth continued. "The faster the sports car, the bigger the SUV, the more you chicks want the guy who drives them."
Some bitterness was starting to seep into his voice. Sophie guessed he wasn't one of the "blessed" ones.
"But, Seth, don't you think what's inside the car is more important? Wouldn't women be more able to get past the trappings if men didn't toss them all up there in front of us?"
Now he sounded sheepish. "Well, you know, all guys want from chicks is sex."
"Ah-ha!" Sophie raised her pen in the air. "Another stereotype!"
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illustration of how men were pigs. Parker took the women's sides, Sophie the men's, to keep the conversation from getting stale. Even when they deftly moved on to other subjects, sex turned out to be the popular topic.
Which didn't help Sophie one bit. She'd started the show thinking of her nipples, and blushed at least a dozen times during their broadcast when someone said something that made her picture Parker in a compromising situation. That SUV—and its big cargo area—was becoming more and more attractive.
Sheesh. She was becoming a stereotype.
Sophie was relieved when they broke at the end of the Rant period. Surely they'd find something other than sex to discuss during the Rave.
She stood to go refill her water bottle and felt Parker's gaze on her the whole length of the hall. When she finished at the cooler and turned, he abruptly straightened and pretended to be looking at his notes.
Sophie removed her satisfied smile when she sashayed back into the studio. "Ready for anti-stereotype?"
"I guess." He looked glum. "At the moment I can't think of any."
Sophie sighed in pretend annoyance. "I'll start, then.
Again. With the middle child thing."
"Yeah, that'll work."
Sophie paused and looked at Parker over the console. "Is something wrong?"
"No."
"Then snap out of it!"
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Melina gave the one-minute warning. Sophie decided to go for broke. No need to wait until tomorrow to implement her plans. Carpe diem! Also, she thought, carpe lust! "Do you want to come over after the show?"
His head snapped up. "Come over?"
Melina signaled thirty seconds.
"I've got leftover pizza."
A longing look came over Parker's face before he schooled his expression. "Sure."
"Great." She nodded at Melina, sat, and went to work.
* * * *
The only problem, Sophie thought two hours later, was what happened next?
Parker followed her home and into the condo. They were spared awkwardness by Hippo, who barreled out of his cage and skidded into Parker's feet. He panted and pranced, gazing adoringly up at Parker.
"He slobbers over everyone like that," Sophie complained, watching Parker stroke the little dog. His hands made the miniature dachshund look even tinier. "Everyone except me."
Parker smiled but didn't say anything.
"Come on. I'll get you something to drink." Sophie left the foyer and led him to the kitchen, where she pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and handed one to Parker.
"Interesting." He examined the label while she let the dog out the back door. She paid her neighbor to let him out a couple of times a day, but he was always in a hurry when she got home.
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"Why?" Sophie went back to the fridge and removed the container of leftover pizza before shutting the door.
Parker twisted the top off his bottle and took a swallow.
"You have my favorite beer, that's all. Can I help?"
"No, thanks." Sophie tried to bustle about preparing the pizza, but putting it on a plate and starting the microwave didn't last long. She let the dog back in and poured some food into his dish, then leaned against the counter and sipped her own beer. Parker, who now sat at the table, eyed her over his bottle. Sophie flushed from head to toe. Her nipples once again peaked and rasped against her shirt. She fought the urge to rub them and turned gratefully when the microwave beeped.
"Careful, it's hot." She placed the plate on the table and collected two more plates, some napkins, and a knife, then sat across from Parker.
She scolded herself for feeling so nervous. It wasn't like she had never had a relationship—or affair—with a guy before. So she'd never done the chasing. It was no big deal.
She tried to think of something to talk about. "How's Trina?"
"Not too bad. Still in preschool."
"That's good. Diane holding up okay?"
"Still strong." He frowned and swallowed. "She's going to fall apart when it's all over, though. I wish she had someone to help her through that."
Sophie's throat swelled against the words, but she said them anyway. "You could help her through that."
Parker tilted his head at her questioningly. "I can be a friend, but not like she needs."
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"Oh." She pulled a red pepper off her pizza slice and dropped it down to Hippo. The dog snapped it up, then trotted to his water dish and began slurping. "Too serious?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it wouldn't exactly be fun, would it? It would be demanding and emotional." God, she sounded spiteful. What was wrong with her? "That's just not the kind of relationship you usually engage in."
Parker felt the familiar fear tickling his spine. He wiped his hands on a napkin and tried to figure out how to change the subject. "I don't date women for the type of relationship we're likely to have."
"Sure." Sophie gave that snort she was so good at, and even though Parker knew he was lying, he was annoyed.
"I don't. I date women who appeal to me and see where it takes us."
"Somehow, it seems to take them down the aisle with someone else." She raised an eyebrow. "How do you manage that, anyway?"
"Manage what?"
"Your matchmaking rec
ord is impeccable."
More fear. Sophie knew him too well. He was in a danger zone.
So he tried to be casual. "I guess they just happen to meet the right guy. I obviously wasn't it."
Sophie cut the last piece of pizza down the middle and handed half to him. "So, how many women have you dated who married the next guy you introduced them to?"
"I have no idea."
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"I bet."
"Tell me about your family."
Sophie laughed. "Okay, I'll let you off the hook." They finished eating in silence, then she stood and piled the plates.
"Coffee?"
He shook his head. Sophie dumped the plates in the sink and suggested watching a movie in the living room. Parker didn't really want to go home yet, and he preferred to avoid further intimate discussions, so he nodded.
He settled near the center of the sofa and watched Sophie dig in the bottom of her entertainment center. She dipped her head to reach into the back and her delectable rear rose.
Parker grimaced and adjusted himself before she turned her head.
" Die Hard?"
He choked before his brain really registered what she said and she apparently took that as a no.
"I've got The Mummy on DVD. You into supernatural incarnations?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to say he was into whatever she wanted him to be into, but just in time he swallowed the juvenile innuendo. "That's fine," he managed to rasp. Sophie looked at him funny, but he figured this was just the beginning.
He was right. He'd never have figured Sophie Macgregor for an action buff, but once they started the movie, she was engrossed.
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licking butter off her fingers from the popcorn she'd made.
Sophie cringing sweetly when some guy got hung. Sophie letting out a yelp when the mummy thing suddenly burst into life.
Unfortunately, Sophie wasn't a clinging female type.
Parker kept trying to put his arm around her or comfort her when she got scared. Except she kept moving around, clearly excited by weird fights with black-robed figures and, of course, mummies. And she didn't get scared. She got excited.
He couldn't even manage to get their fingers to meet in the damn popcorn bowl. At least Hippo had settled on his lap, making his ... situation less obvious.
By the time the movie was over, Parker felt like he'd played Mick O'Donnell, or whatever the guy's name was. He was plain worn out.
Most of him was, anyway. Sophie jumped off the couch, and his body reacted quite energetically to the bounce beneath her sexy shirt. She snapped off the TV and turned to face him.
"Watdja think?"
Parker stood slowly and Sophie's eyes widened. Her face softened, her mouth slackening just the littlest bit. He stopped when he was two inches from her.
"I think I'm wondering what I'm doing here."
"I'd say watching a movie," Sophie replied, her voice turning husky. "But I don't think that's what you meant."
Parker's hand lifted and skimmed Sophie's shoulder. She shivered and he closed his eyes, suddenly dead certain that 173
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being here was a big mistake, and that he was about to make a bigger one.
Without opening his eyes he lowered his head. If his lips met the top of her head, he'd know they were safe. Tomorrow Sophie would show up at the station in her usual decent clothing and Parker could go back to being ruled by his brain.
He felt hot breath and knew that wasn't what was going to happen. He paused.
"Sophie."
"What?"
"If I kiss you, everything changes."
Her arm dislodged his hand from her shoulder as she lifted it to wrap around his neck. Still, she didn't move closer.
Parker let his hand settle on her hip and inhaled deeply.
Sophie's pheromones must have been turned on high, because her scent threatened to flip his switch to primitive.
"I know it does, Parker."
She still didn't move, and he didn't know if she wanted it to change or not.
He was getting a crick in his neck.
He let his eyes open a slit. Sophie's hair was tousled and cascading over her shoulders. Her eyes were half-lidded and full of invitation. There was no reservation in her gaze, only patience.
Parker groaned. He'd lost.
* * * *
Wow.
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Sophie couldn't get a more coherent thought than that.
She'd thought the kiss at the gazebo yesterday was good.
She'd never tasted lips so firm, yet so velvety. Lips that made her lips believe his lips were the only ones for them.
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.
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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.
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my dreams was a playboy. S
he 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.
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