Her Frog Prince

by Shirley Jump

  When Garrett had left Parris outside the church minutes before their wedding, Jackie had taken the high road, never saying a word in retribution. In the two years since, neither sister had ever mentioned his name.

  Until now.

  "I was stupid when I was with him," Parris said. "I made a lot of mistakes."

  "It's in the past." The gentle tone in Jackie's voice told Parris her sister meant it. Maybe the two of them were on the path toward a real relationship. Maybe they'd both grown up over these past few weeks.

  "I think you're a little gun-shy," Jackie said.

  Parris started to protest, then stopped. "Well, maybe a little. How many men do we know who have stuck around through the hard parts? Dad didn't. Garrett didn't—"

  "Steven did."

  "Okay, one happy ending."

  Jackie clasped Parris's hand with her own. "If you're looking for guarantees, you should invest in a Maytag repairman."

  Parris laughed.

  "I'm serious. Happy endings are possible. For me and for you."

  Parris looked at Jackie's eyes, shining with a joy brighter than the new ring that graced her left hand. She'd heard the love in Jackie's voice when she spoke of Steven and their daughter. It was something she'd never felt in her own life. "I envy you," Parris said.

  "Envy me?" Jackie laughed. "That's a switch. Why?"

  "Because you have it all."

  Jackie blinked. "I thought you weren't into that home-and-hearth kind of thing. You were always the party girl."

  "I was. But not anymore. Even parties get stale." Parris looked across the room, seeking Brad. "I want more now."

  "The mortgage and the minivan?"

  Parris laughed. "I don't know if I'd go that far."

  "Well I would. You deserve to be happy."

  She sighed. "It doesn't matter. Men don't look at a woman like me and see things like white picket fences and teddy-bear wallpaper borders."

  "Maybe you're just looking at the wrong kind of men."

  Parris swung back toward Jackie. "What do you mean?"

  "Stop looking for the princes and look for frogs instead." She smiled. "Princes aren't much good for taking out the garbage on Tuesday nights."

  "What if it doesn't last, even with the frog?"

  Jackie sighed and laid a hand on her older sister's arm. "Love is about taking chances, Parris."

  "I don't gamble, Jackie. Not with my heart. Not anymore."

  "And next up on the auction block is a last-minute substitution," called the auctioneer. "Something a little unique."

  Her cue. Parris left Jackie and crossed to the stage, stepping up the few stairs to stand by the podium. All eyes in the room swiveled toward her. So this was how a Holstein felt at a farmer's market.

  "This lovely lady, Ms. Parris Hammond, has agreed to donate one week of her consulting time to the highest bidder. This time can be used for party planning—like this wonderful event—or another such important event. It's a generous offer, worth a princely sum. Who'll start us off?"

  "Four hundred dollars," Morton Kingman said, raising his number twenty-eight card high and giving Parris a smile.

  "Five hundred," a male voice countered from somewhere in the back, raising a number seventy bidding card. The voice sounded familiar, but with the buzz of talking people and without a face, Parris wasn't so sure who was speaking. She raised on her toes to see whose hand held the sign, then heard Mortie beat the price.

  "Six hundred," Mortie said.

  "Eight hundred."

  Mortie scowled. "Nine hundred."

  "One thousand dollars."

  Parris strained higher but still couldn't see the identity of the man holding number seventy. A woman with a large, plumed hat blocked her view. The chatter grew, undoubtedly people getting a kick out of a human on the auction block.

  "One thousand, two hundred dollars," Mortie said.

  "One thousand, five hundred eighty-seven dollars and, hold on—" there was the sound of rattling change "—ninety-three cents and… one stick of Juicy Fruit."

  Mortie threw up his hands in defeat, laughing. Candy gave him a hug of consolation for losing.

  "Going once," the auctioneer said. "Going twice." He glanced around the room, now stone silent. "Sold! To number seventy for ah, a nice sum and a stick of gum."

  The auction sign moved to the right, along with the person holding it. Parris opened her mouth, closed it. Blinked twice, hoping this was a nightmare.

  No. It couldn't be.

  Parris Hammond had just been sold to Brad Smith for fifteen hundred bucks and change. And one, hopefully unchewed, stick of gum.

  She'd been wrong. Even cows were auctioned off with more dignity than that.

  He'd won her, fair and square. When he saw her face across the room, though, Brad wasn't so sure Parris was going to play fair and honor her end of the bargain. He paid the cashier, got his signed receipt for one week of Parris's services, then went to find her. He had very little time to waste.

  And, by the looks of his tie tonight, a hell of a lot to accomplish.

  He crossed to Parris and caught his breath when he got close to her. From across the room, she'd been beautiful. But up close, she was enough to send his heart plummeting off a very steep cliff.

  The pink dress scooped in the front, allowing him a peek at her delectable chest. A dab of pink gloss highlighted her lips, making it seem like they begged to be kissed. She'd sprinkled some kind of shimmer on her shoulders and neckline, so everything about her glowed.

  What would it be like to taste that shimmer? To run his mouth along the hollow of her throat and down the valleys that called to him beneath that dress?

  What would it be like to have her in his arms, happy to see him and not fighting him at every turn? To hear her say his name with desire, not—

  What the hell was he thinking? Getting involved with Parris Hammond should be the last thing on his list. She'd made it clear he wasn't her type. Plus, he had a giant squid's existence to prove and the only reason he was here was to redeem his purchase.

  A business transaction, that's all.

  But when he came closer, the rest of his body considered another kind of business altogether. After he'd redeemed his favor from her, then he'd settle the unfinished business they'd started in the palm trees and by the tide pools. Parris Hammond had gotten under his skin and he wasn't going to be able to think straight until he became immune to her.

  As a scientist, he knew the best way to build up an immunity was to expose himself to her. Over and over again.

  Uh-huh. That should work.

  It seemed to work wonders on her end, he noticed.

  She had her hands on her hips and was giving him a good scowl. "I thought I made it clear I didn't think we should get involved," she said.

  "I don't want to date you," he interrupted. Well, okay, he did, but not right this second. So he wasn't entirely lying. Really.

  "You…you don't?" For a second, he thought he read hurt in her eyes, but then the look passed and she went back to being fire and ice.

  "No. We have business to conduct." He held up the receipt.

  "The certificate is good for a year." She turned away.

  "I don't have a year, Parris. I don't even have a month. I paid for your services and you owe me that. Now. This week. On this island."

  She wheeled around. "You're asking the impossible."

  "Why? Am I that bad? That hopeless?"

  "No." Within that one word, her voice had softened, become almost a whisper. He felt a twinge of hope that maybe there was something between himself and Parris and he hadn't been crazy at all. "It's not you at all. It's—"

  And then another man came bounding toward them, scooped Parris up and kissed her before Brad knew what hit him. "Parris! Darling! I'm so glad to see you!"

  Chapter Nine

  Of all the men Parris least expected to see on the island, her father topped the list. She should have known he'd fly in at some point to check
on the satisfaction of the first client in the business he'd handed to her and Jackie. He wasn't the type to make purely familial calls, never had been, no matter how often either of the girls had clamored for his attention.

  Jeffrey Hammond, as he'd told his daughters often, was in business to make money. And every minute he wasn't in business was a minute he wasn't making money.

  Still, a little part of her—some silly part left over from when she was ten years old, she supposed—felt happy to see him.

  Parris stepped back from Jeffrey Hammond's fierce embrace. "Dad! What are you doing here?"

  "Visiting my little girls and seeing how they're doing with the project I gave them." He took a look around the room at the energetic bidding and nodded approvingly. "Seems you've done well with this."

  "I couldn't have done it without Jackie. She was great," Parris said. Although she'd been dragged, reluctantly at first, into this business, Parris had to admit she was proud of it now. She could look around the room and see evidence of her and Jackie's achievements. That felt good. Really good. She knew now what Brad meant when he talked about being able to measure results. She could measure this, see it, hold it-She turned toward him now and gestured between Brad and her father. "Dad, I want you to meet someone. This is Brad Smith. He's a marine biologist who works off the coast of Florida. He has a research station on the island. Brad, this is my father, Jeffrey Hammond."

  The two men shook. "Marine biologist, huh? What do you research?"

  "Giant squid."

  Jeffrey let out a hearty laugh. "You're kidding, right? There's no such thing as giant squid, is there?"

  "Actually there are. A couple of them have washed up on the shores of Florida."

  "You don't say?" her father said. "Well that's all right, I guess, long as you don't have designs on my daughter." He chuckled. "I can just see me explaining that to the guys at the country club. 'Parris married a squid stalker."' He elbowed Brad in the side, as if he should laugh at the joke, too.

  "Dad, I've seen Brad's research. I've even been out on the boats with him. It's great stuff. You'd be impressed."

  "Takes a lot to impress me." Jeffrey gave him an appraising glance. "But if you can do that, well, I'll listen."

  Brad grinned. "Too bad you're not on the grant committee I have to talk to next week. I could use every bit of help I could get there."

  "Grant committee?"

  "The National Aquatic Research Foundation."

  Her father scratched his chin. "You know, I think Larry Hudson has some pull in those circles. He could give you a hell of an endorsement. You want, I'll call him. As a favor to my little girl. Anything for a friend of hers."

  Her father was at it again. Dispensing gifts with abandon. Buying love. Buying allegiance. Soon as he did, he'd be gone, figuring he'd done his fatherly duty. It was how he'd treated his daughters and his wives. Buy a trinket, then leave and move on to the next "project."

  She wouldn't blame Brad for accepting. He needed the funding and her father was practically handing it to him in a gift bag. She looked at Brad, half expecting him to put out his hand and shake her father's, sealing the deal.

  But he didn't.

  "Thank you, sir, but that's not necessary," Brad said. "I'd rather earn the money on the merits of my research."

  "Or lose it on your own," Jeffrey said. "I say a man who doesn't take advantage of an offer like that is a fool."

  "All due respect, Mr. Hammond, but I have to live with myself and I prefer to know I've done my own homework."

  Parris could have kissed Brad at that moment. For sticking to his principles, for refusing to be swayed by her father's wealth and power. For choosing the hard road rather than easy street. How many men had she met that would do something like that?

  None.

  Until now.

  Her father considered Brad for a long moment. As the seconds ticked by, Parris waited for a blowup, the inevitable confrontation. No one ever defied her father. He'd fired people for doing less.

  "I like you," her father said finally. "You have moxie. I don't meet many men like that. You ever think of leaving squids for the nine-to-five world, you give me a call." He reached into his breast pocket, withdrew a business card and slipped it into Brad's hand.

  "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hammond, but I'm not exactly a suit-and-tie kind of guy."

  He glanced at Brad's mangled neckwear. "Yeah, I thought so."

  "Oh, look, Jackie came back," Parris said, motioning toward her sister, who stood in the archway, a smile on her face and a much clearer look in her eyes. "She had a headache earlier but must be feeling better."

  "Jackie!" their father boomed, pivoting and heading for his other daughter.

  "I'm sorry about that," Parris said when her father had left. "My father can be—"

  "I come from the same kind of family." Brad grinned. "No apologies necessary."

  Behind them, the auctioneer was announcing a break from the bidding for a little dancing. The band picked up and started playing "Always."

  "I believe that's our hint," Brad said.

  "Hint? For what?"

  Brad took her hand and led her toward the floor before she could protest. "For us to dance."

  "I'm supposed to—"

  "Be dancing with me. The auction will survive without you for five minutes."

  He was so tempting. A complete distraction. Every time she was with him, she came closer to trusting him, to believing in the possibility of the fairy tale. "Is this part of your plan to convince me your makeover can't wait?"

  "Can you, for five minutes, just be you and me? A man and a woman dancing together simply because they want to, not because they have ulterior motives?" He wrapped one arm around her waist and put the other hand into hers. It felt warm. Comfortable. As if it was meant to be there. "Just us, Parris. Nothing else."

  She couldn't say no. She didn't want to say no. For five minutes, to be only him and her. No auction, no family members. Nothing but them and the sweet harmony of the music flowing between their bodies.

  He pressed her torso to his. Heat lit up her skin, electrifying her nerve endings. "Lean into me," he whispered. "Dance with me."

  She struggled against his request. Giving up control, even on the dance floor, meant trusting him. Brad kept his hand against her back and swayed with her, his movements soft and fluid, asking nothing more than she wanted to give.

  She took a half step forward, another, then leaned her head forward a little at a time, fitting it into the crook of his shoulder.

  He smelled of the ocean, like a man who worked for a living, not one who spent his days behind a desk with manicured nails and a cold heart. He was warm and alive and—

  There.

  So very much there. She forgot about being in charge and shifted with his movements. Her body read the cues of his, sensing his movements in perfect timing. She moved her lips closer to his neck, inhaling him, swept up in the music and the movement and everything that was Brad.

  "Parris," he whispered, turning his face toward hers. His hand drifted down her back a little, accommodating the new position. His mouth was inches away, his breath warm on her lips, as if they were breathing the same air.

  She surged forward and covered his mouth with her own. He tasted of promises, of hot nights spent tangled in sheets and each other. Her tongue danced with his, along and under. She tangled her fingers in his hair, wanting more. Wanting it all.

  Too soon, he pulled back, an inch, maybe two. "Oh God, Parris, you're amazing."

  "I try my best," she said, her voice a whisper, but the tease gone.

  "We bring out the worst in each other," he said, then trailed a finger along her chin, "Or maybe the best."

  She nodded. "We probably shouldn't be together."

  "All it does is lead to trouble."

  She watched his lips move and thought of nothing but tasting them again. "Yeah, trouble."

  "Then I'll see you tomorrow?" Brad said, smiling, clearly
not caring a whit about trouble. "On the beach?"

  "For what?" Her brain had become a jumble filled with nothing but him and the music, still sweeping through them.

  "For my first lesson."

  She shook her head. "I don't have anything to teach you."

  The music had come to an end, the band pausing before switching to an upbeat tempo.

  Brad skipped a finger along her lower lip "Oh, I disagree, Parris. I disagree very much."

  She wasn't coming. Brad knew it. For half an hour he'd stood here, waiting on the resort's beach for Parris. He'd been a fool for thinking she'd show up.

  Their kiss last night had been a dream. A fantasy. He might as well be searching for mermaids. He'd have better luck with those mythical creatures than he would with Parris Hammond.

  "Looking for someone?"

  He pivoted and found her behind him, coming out of the ocean in a bikini so tiny it should have been filed under some kind of indecency law.

  But hell, who was he to complain about a little scrap of crimson material? It did, after all, cover her curves. Well, the important ones.

  "I didn't expect you to be in the ocean," he said when he finally found his voice.

  "And I didn't expect you to be so early." She wrapped her arms around her waist, which only served to thrust out her breasts. Oh, Lord. He was in trouble now.

  Growing trouble.

  "Sorry. I was anxious to, ah," he said, working like hell to keep his gaze above her neckline, "get started. So why are you out here?"

  "I needed a swim. I had to burn off a few… frustrations,"

  "From anyone or anything in particular?"

  "Yeah. There's this really annoying marine biologist I know," she said, cocking a smile. "I can't get rid of him."

  "Like a bad itch, huh?"

  "Worse."

  "Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that."

  She paused, as if she were going to say something else, then changed her mind. Instead, she took in a breath and he saw her entire demeanor shift from playful to business. She bent over, giving his heart a jolt, and picked up a towel he hadn't noticed before. She wrapped it around her torso, blocking his view.