by Bru Baker
“That is sad, my friend,” Luke said, shaking his head. Mason glared at him, shoving the Scotch across the table to Liam, who winked at him and then downed it with a neat swallow.
“I’ll work on him,” Parker promised, and everyone but Mason dissolved into laughter.
Chapter Seven
LATE Wednesday afternoon, Anna came crashing into the bathroom, interrupting Parker’s shower and making him shriek in an undignified manner. She averted her eyes and shut the door behind herself, but that didn’t stop Parker from grabbing a towel from the rack and wrapping it around his waist, the water sluicing over it and soaking it through in seconds.
“Fucking hell, Anna. I could have been jerking off!” he shouted as he turned off the spray and opened the glass door, his glare marred by the fact he still had shaving foam on half his face.
Her lips twitched. “Like the time in the carriage house when you were fourteen and I—”
“You promised never to speak of that again,” he muttered, eyes narrowing.
“And I never have, outside of sessions with my therapist,” she said, giving him a catty smile.
“Was there a reason you trampled on the last shred of privacy I had?” It was true. The others had all but moved into his apartment over the last few days. They were barely keeping up appearances at Anderson, enough to keep abreast of what was going on and do the bare minimum of work required to skate by without getting noticed, but leaving early every day so they could reconvene at Parker’s and focus on the buyout. They worked long into the night and started again early, every second of the essence, so it had made sense for them to stay with him. Parker had even given Anna his own bed, which she’d graciously accepted after insisting he change the sheets. Luke and Liam had taken the guest room, using the air mattress Liam had brought with him so they didn’t actually have to share a bed, and Parker had given Mason the sleeper sofa in the living room. Greg had begged off, claiming he couldn’t miss work. That left Parker on the love seat in his small study, which worked, since he hadn’t done much more than doze in his desk chair for a few minutes at a time since they’d formed their buyout plans. It was cramped and uncomfortable, but if they had any hope of making the Friday deadline, it was necessary.
“Matthews came through,” she said, face flushed from excitement and the heat of the steamy room. “We have an audience with the board, without Richard, at 7:00 a.m. on Friday.”
Parker’s frown disappeared, and his hand tightened around the sodden towel, which was threatening to slide down his hips.
“They aren’t hearing Century’s proposal until the afternoon. The board never convenes that early unless there’s an emergency. And they don’t convene without my father. I’m not even sure they can. He’s the CEO.”
“Not true,” Anna said, perching on the countertop. She waved in his direction. “You can get on with shaving. I won’t look.”
Parker growled but shut the door, the glass a feeble barrier between himself and Anna but the only one available. He knotted the towel, hoping it would hold despite the weight of the wet cotton, and resumed shaving. For a moment the only sound in the small bathroom was that of the razor scraping against his skin, but after a bit Anna started up again.
“The board traditionally meets in the afternoon, since several of the members have other jobs, and that’s always been easiest. But when quick action is necessary, they’re duty bound to meet—it’s in the board’s charter.”
Parker grunted in response, angling his head so he could see his jawline in the shaving mirror that hung on the tile wall.
“The board has to have a three-quarters majority vote to convene if not expressly called by the CEO,” she said, counting off on her fingers the members who’d agreed until she reached the eleventh, Matthews. He’d been a good friend of her father’s, and he’d always done what he could to help Anna and her family. Parker suspected Matthews harbored feelings for his aunt Valerie, but he’d never said anything about it, not wanting to cause trouble.
There were fourteen members of the board, including his father. Which meant Anna had somehow managed to pull off a miracle, especially by convincing them to meet before his father arrived. There was no way they’d have been able to hide the board filing into the meeting room, which was right outside his father’s office, if he’d been there. Parker briefly wondered if she had some heretofore unknown power like sorcery or hypnotism; it was the most logical explanation for how she’d managed to bring the stodgy, generally conservative board around enough to meet without his father. They were all in his father’s pocket, and Parker couldn’t believe she’d done it, even with Matthews’ and Geoffries’ help.
“Was it wise to have them call a special session?” Getting in to see the board was the trickiest part of the entire equation, and Parker had despaired of making it happen. Even with the necessary money in hand, there was no guarantee they’d even get the board to listen to their proposal. Somehow Anna had gotten them not only an audience but one without their biggest dissenter, his father. Of course, getting an audience with them and convincing them to align their own shares with him in the buyout vote were two different things. Parker took a breath, trying not to let himself get too excited. They still had a hard road ahead of them, but Anna had just cleared one of their major stumbling blocks.
“Matthews hinted that they weren’t pleased with the course of action Richard’s taking,” Anna said, poking through the jars and bottles on Parker’s sink. She snickered when she came across a bottle of Alford & Hoff eye cream, which, despite its manly packaging, Parker still knew was an awfully girly thing to have.
“Has someone been talking out of turn?” Parker asked, the words muffled as he pursed his lips so he could slide the razor over his cheek.
“You and I both know the board gossips more than a group of middle school girls,” Anna said drily. She unscrewed the cream, dipped her finger in, and spread a bit under her eyes. “God, Parker, this stuff stinks.”
The glass door cracked open, and Parker’s face, now clean-shaven, appeared around the edge. He watched Anna screw the cap back on the brown bottle, her nose wrinkled in distaste.
“When will you learn not to touch things that don’t belong to you?” he asked, exasperated. “Now will you kindly get out? I need to rinse the foam off.”
“Parker, honestly. Like I care if you have the shower running,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The only reason you are in here, ostensibly, is to talk. And if I have the water running, it would drown out your voice. Ergo, if I have the water on, there is no valid reason for you to be in here. Now get out, you harpy!”
Anna hopped down from the counter, cool air blowing into the stuffy bathroom as she opened the door.
“You’re the only man I know who would say ‘ergo’ while naked, Parker Anderson!” she yelled, earning a smattering of laughter from the living room and an only half-audible curse from the bathroom.
“Do I have anything to worry about?” Mason joked, quirking a brow at Anna as she slumped next to him on the couch.
“Yes. Your boyfriend is a boorish jerk who uses really disgusting eye cream,” Anna huffed out, rubbing at the offending product with a corner of the blanket Mason had folded over the back of the sofa when he’d gotten up that morning. She glared at him when she’d finished, her mascara a hopeless mess. “And he’s my cousin. Don’t be disgusting.”
Mason laughed, turning his attention back to the reports in his lap.
“You’re right about one thing,” he said, not looking up from the report.
“What’s that? That Parker’s an ill-tempered jerk?” Mason batted her hand away as she tried to turn the page, reading over his shoulder.
“No. That eye cream is foul. You smell disgusting.” MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:01 AM): Hey, baby, want to crack open my casing and look at my motherboard?
PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:02 AM): That was horrible.
PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:03 AM): And who told you my user nam
e?
PrinceParker (09/16/20121 2:03 AM): Wait, I thought you were sleeping?
MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:04 AM): I thought YOU were too. MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:05 AM): And I got it from Liam. You said you hated it when people called you that. Why did you choose it for your user name?
PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:06 AM): Blame Luke. He’s the one who told the football team about it.
MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:07 AM): You let the football team choose your user name? PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:07 AM): No. And MagicalMason? Really?
MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:08 AM): Trust me. There are parts of me that are downright magical.
PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:09 AM): Is that so? MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:09 AM): Want to come out here and find out for yourself? PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:10 AM): With Anna down the hall and Liam and Luke in the guest room? I’ll pass.
MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:11 AM): Spoilsport. MagicalMason (09/16/2012 12:12 AM): So if you’re not going to peer-to-peer with my database, will you at least tell me why you chose PrinceParker? The full story.
PrinceParker (09/16/2012 12:13 AM): Don’t pout, Mason. It’s not becoming. Mason jumped when the lid to his laptop snapped shut, the loss of light from the screen plunging the living room into almost total darkness. Parker snickered at Mason’s soft squeak of surprise, vaulted over the back, and landed next to him on the mattress.
“What are you doing?” Mason whispered, the faint moonlight streaming in from the window across the room giving just enough light for him to see that the intruder was Parker.
“You said you wanted to know why I chose PrinceParker, and I’m tired of typing,” Parker said, his long legs pressed against Mason’s as he scooted closer on the sofa bed’s thin mattress.
Mason set the laptop aside and turned so he was facing Parker. Parker’s eyes were adjusting to the dark, and he could easily make out Mason’s features, especially his hair, which was somewhat disheveled and glowed dimly in the moonlight.
“I don’t mind it from my friends,” Parker said, lips curving up into a small smile. “I kind of like it, actually. I didn’t have a nickname growing up—pet names were not tolerated in Richard Anderson’s household. So Prince Parker, or Prince Prat, as Anna sometimes calls me. I don’t know. I liked that people cared enough about me to give me a nickname.”
Parker shrugged, and Mason reached out, stroking over the ridge of his jaw. He traced his way down to the full curve of Parker’s lips, barely running across the soft skin. Parker nipped at the intrusion, catching Mason’s finger between his teeth before darting his tongue out to caress the tip. He released it, pressing a soft kiss to Mason’s knuckle.
“At work, I don’t like being called Prince Parker because it has different connotations,” Parker continued, and Mason lowered his hand, finding Parker’s on the blanket and twining them together. Parker’s thumb ran over the finger he’d abused, absently stroking it with soothing circular motions. “Some people say it because they think I rose to my position through nepotism. Others do because—”
“Because you’re gorgeous and untouchable,” Mason cut in, laughing when Parker’s eyes widened. “Do you know how many limericks are written about Perfect Prince Parker in the bathroom stalls?” Mason rolled his eyes when Parker shook his head slowly. “Tons.”
Parker inched forward, eyes still slightly wide as he studied Mason. Without closing them, he pressed his lips to Mason’s, the soft heat making Parker’s heart thrum.
“And how many of those have you written?” Parker teased, settling back against the cushions. He was slightly disappointed when Mason didn’t curl up next to him, but he knew it was for the best. If they got started, they wouldn’t stop, and he didn’t want Luke or Liam or, God forbid, Anna, to walk in on them. They already had enough ammunition as it was.
“None, yet,” Mason said, waggling his eyebrows. “But I plan to have first-hand knowledge of your prowess before I next set foot in that building.”
“You’ll have to work on rhymes for ‘amazing’ and ‘earthshattering’, then,” Parker teased, his smile slipping as his thoughts turned more serious. “Do you really think we’ll succeed?”
Mason brought their joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss against Parker’s knuckles, just as he’d done to Mason a few minutes earlier.
“I do. I have every faith in you and in Anna. It will work out.” Parker blew out a breath, rebuilding his defenses. He needed to stay focused and in charge of his emotions, and midnight chats with Mason and his too-tempting lips weren’t helping. He knew another reason some employees called him Prince Parker was the authority and calm he exuded. What they didn’t know was how hard he had to work to make it all seem easy. He’d spent too much time watching how employees flinched away from his father, who often made people anxious with his sharp tongue and quick temper. He never wanted to make those mistakes. Parker wanted to be the type of boss who inspired his employees and earned their loyalty, not the kind of authoritarian who just came in and demanded it, like his father did.
“I’ve got an early morning,” Parker murmured, rolling to the side and standing. “We have an interview with that reporter. Greg called and bandied a few threats about unfair reporting, so they’ve agreed to talk to me and Anna. We promised them the first interview after—well, after.”
“You told them what you two are doing?”
Parker shot Mason a dark look.
“Of course not. But they obviously know we’re up to something. Greg just told them that when we have something to announce, we’ll go to them first.”
“Well, good luck, then,” Mason said. “Reporters, interviews, and investors are out of my league. Call me if your laptop breaks, though.”
“Good night, Mason.” Parker dropped a kiss on Mason’s nose from his place looming over him behind the sofa, dancing backward before Mason’s awkward swing could hit him. Mason’s fist thumped against the cushions. Parker reached over the back of the sofa, grabbed Mason’s laptop, and gently deposited it on the coffee table. “Get some sleep. There’s nothing that can’t wait till morning.”
Mason yawned, nodding. “Sweet dreams, my prince.” Parker grinned as the sound of Mason’s soft laugher floated down the hallway, following him into the study. He flopped back against the too-thin cushions on the love seat, grimacing as his legs protested when he curled up on his side, cramped and uncomfortable. He gave a halfhearted glance toward his laptop on the desk, briefly considering trying to get in some more work for the evening, before deciding to take his own advice. He pulled a blanket over himself and closed his eyes, trying not to think about Mason sleeping just down the hall.
Chapter Eight
THURSDAY passed in a flurry of activity. Everyone but Luke and Liam called in sick, which was probably suspicious, but Parker was frankly past caring. The apartment seemed extremely crowded with the addition of Margaret, who had mostly talked with Parker and Anna by phone until DBDDay, as Liam had decided to call it. Day Before D-Day. Parker had to admit it had a ring to it.
He was pacing around, agitated by how stuffy and disorganized his apartment had become, while he argued with the bank about some inconsequential piece of paperwork that apparently had to be signed and faxed over immediately.
After tripping over a box for the third time in as many minutes, Parker sat on the windowsill, propping the phone up to his ear with his shoulder as he watched Mason collate and staple papers and stuff reports into binders that Jill was labeling with each board member’s name.
From the look on his face, Mason was daydreaming, and Parker enjoyed the soft way his lips curved up as he worked. Hopefully he was thinking about all the things he’d like to do once this deal was finished; Parker certainly had more than a few ideas of his own.
“Shit!” Mason sucked his finger into his mouth, nursing a paper cut, and glared at Jill, who had startled him by setting a cup of steaming coffee by his elbow, making his hand jerk as he was collating.
> Parker barely stifled a snort, his attention pulled back into the conversation with the bank manager, who was now insisting that Parker or Anna needed to personally bring in whatever was missing.
“Oh, poor baby,” Jill crooned, pulling Mason’s finger out of his mouth. She gave it a critical appraisal, dropped it, and patted him mockingly on the shoulder. “I don’t think it’s fatal.”
“Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Smith?” Mason’s stern look was completely ruined by his grin. “It’s my professional opinion that you should find someone to kiss it better,” she said, nudging Mason and looking pointedly over at Parker, who had his cell phone sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear, his hands rifling through a pile of papers on the table.
“Yes, well,” Mason said, giving his finger a sad look. “I think I’d probably bleed to death before that happened.” “Can’t help you there,” Jill said cheerfully, taking a stack of finished presentation binders and placing them neatly in the box she’d brought over for that reason.
“You mean you’d let me bleed to death before kissing it better yourself?” Mason widened his eyes, clearly trying to look aghast but only managing an air of exaggerated surprise. “You took an oath, Dr. Smith. An oath.”
“My oath did not include kissing boo-boos to make them better,” Jill shot back, sticking her tongue out.
“Who’s kissing Mason’s what now?” Greg leaned in, pressing a kiss against the side of Jill’s neck and making her laugh and push at him, complaining that his stubble tickled her skin.
“It’s who’s notkissing Mason’s anything that has him all riled,” Jill said, laughing when Mason looked scandalized. “Can we not talk about my sex life, or lack thereof?” Mason said, and Parker saw him grimace in embarrassment when he realized Parker had ended the call and could hear him.
“As interesting as the subject of Mason’s virginity is—” “Hey! I am not a virgin!” Mason yelled, affronted. Parker grinned, and Mason flushed darker at Parker’s teasing. “As I was saying,” Parker continued, with a quelling glance at Mason, “we’re in the home stretch. Let’s focus on tomorrow. No time for fooling around.”