Still, she held his hand.
She was a miracle, his Kaitlin. A miracle.
The look she sent him as she gave him the mask, and showed him how to sanitize his hands, was scintillating. Playful and hopeful and sweet.
He probably shouldn’t have thought about kissing her when she put her finger to her lips to remind him to be quiet. But he did.
She pushed open the door and led him into a shadowed room. The sounds of machines and monitors intruded on the hush. Parker stopped, stock-still at the sight of Adam Bristol on the bed. He was washed in a halo of light from the dim lamp heading the bed. He seemed so frail, so diminished—that strong impervious man who had been the sole pillar in his life—Parker wanted to turn around and run.
But Kaitlin didn’t allow it. She tugged him closer. “Mr. Bristol,” she said softly. And then, when he didn’t respond, she laid her hand on his. “Mr. Bristol, there’s someone here to see you.”
Adam’s lashes fluttered, opened. His eyes were watery and streaked with red. His lips, pale and cracked.
But they curved upward when Adam saw him. “Parker,” he croaked. “Parker, my boy.” He lifted his arm, despite all the tubes, and reached out. Parker rushed to his side, and grabbed it.
“Dad.” He didn’t intend for that word to come out. But Adam didn’t seem to mind. He tightened his hold in an anemic squeeze.
“Well, I must be doing better if they let you in.”
“Of course. Of course you’re doing better.”
“Got some damn surgery tomorrow.” So like Adam. So gruff in the face of dread.
“You’re going to come through it just fine. Just fine.”
“Did you see Michelle?”
“Yeah. We had dinner.”
Adam snorted. “Here?”
“Mmm hmm.” Parker had to chuckle at Adam’s grimace. “I know. Not the Ritz. But just think, before you know it, you’ll be home eating a thick steak and Trish’s glazed carrots.”
Another grimace. Trish’s glazed carrots were legendary. For being hideous. Ash’s sister was not what one would call a gourmet cook. Or…a cook at all.
Adam’s gaze swung to Kaitlin. “And who is this pretty thing?”
Parker pulled her forward. “Kaitlin, meet Adam Bristol. Adam, this is Kaitlin.”
“You are a pretty thing. Single?” Adam’s brow arched.
Kaitlin nodded.
“Hmm. I have a son about your age, you know.”
Parker frowned and Adam laughed.
“Yes, I’ve met your son, Mr. Bristol,” she said, once again setting her hand on his. It lingered there. “He’s very…nice.” She glanced away.
Yeah. A lie. After the way Ash had dumped her friend, her opinion of him was likely in the toilet. But Parker appreciated that she was gracious and gentle with Adam.
“So, you’re having a little surgery tomorrow?” she asked, running her palm over Adam’s chest. She was so matter of fact about it, it didn’t even strike Parker as odd…until later. Her hand stilled over his heart and she closed her eyes, breathed in deep and then exhaled in a soft gush. “Mmm. Yes. You have a strong heart, Mr. Bristol.”
“Why thank you, young lady.” It was probably Parker’s imagination, or the proximity of a ‘pretty thing,’ but Adam’s color looked better. His grin widened.
She patted him softly. “I think you’re going to come through this just fine.”
Clara barged in, just then, to smile at Kaitlin and frown at Parker, which somehow she managed to do at the same time. “Ahem,” she said, as though that said everything. Then again, it did.
“We have to go now, Mr. Bristol,” Kaitlin said softly. “I’ll try to come back and see you after the surgery.” She waggled a finger at him. “You be good now.”
“I will.” He winked. “I will.”
As they left, Kaitlin took Parker’s hand again. “What do you say about trying that chocolate pie now?” she asked.
“Okay.” Hell yeah. Anything to extend this chance meeting. This time he would not fail to get her phone number. “So… Do you really think he’ll be okay?” he asked as they stepped onto the elevator.
Her smile was beatific. “Yes,” she said. “He’ll be just fine.”
And Parker believed her.
For one thing, he couldn’t bear the alternative.
And for another…she seemed to know what she was talking about.
He asked her out over chocolate pie—and damn, could that girl put away the chocolate pie. To his delight they made plans to have dinner the next night, if, of course, Adam did well in his surgery, which she seemed to think he would. She gave him her phone number—he memorized it immediately—as well as her address.
And somehow, all of a sudden, all was well with the world.
Chapter Eight
Kaitlin was nervous as all get out as she prepared for her date with Parker.
She couldn’t deny the niggle of dread that he might not show up. Though she understood why he’d missed their previous date, and for good reason, the remnants of her desolation still clung.
It was only dinner. There was no need for such angst, but she couldn’t stop herself.
It was a little scary, her feelings for him. How vulnerable he made her feel. And none of her usual tools for psychic self-protection worked. At least, not very well.
She suspected it was because, deep down, she didn’t want distance from him.
She didn’t want distance at all.
Parker rang the bell at six on the dot—Kaitlin suspected he’d been waiting in his car checking his watch. But then, she’d been hovering in the foyer. She didn’t whip the door open before the chime wafted away, but just barely.
He greeted her with a wide smile. A smile that made her heart flutter.
“Kaitlin.” He looked magnificent in slacks and a sport coat and a crisply-pressed linen shirt. His tie was sedate, classic, clearly one he wore to work. He held a small box in his hands.
“Parker.”
“I, ah…” He nodded to the stained glass window in her front door—a confection of drooping purple wisteria. “I like your window.”
“Thank you.”
“Your house is nice.”
“Thank you. It was my aunt’s. She left it to me when she passed. It’s over a hundred years old.” It had been renovated many times and had all kinds of charming, quirky features. Like the window, and the little room beneath the stairs and—
“It’s nice.”
“Thank you.”
They stared at each other, wrapped in a sudden uneasy cloud.
She hadn’t dated much. Didn’t know what to do next. And it appeared he didn’t either. But then he thrust the box at her. “These are for you.”
“Thank you.” She realized she sounded a little bit like a very redundant parrot, but she couldn’t find the wherewithal to be witty. “What is it?”
“Chocolates.” He named a local brand, one she loved, and her apprehension evaporated. Her smile blossomed. And his gaze stalled on her face.
“I love these. Thank you. Um, would you like to come in?”
He paled and shook his head; shyness welled and swelled around him, tinting his aura a light rose. “I, ah, better not.” She had the sense he was trying to be chivalrous at all costs, which was adorable. He shifted his feet. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.” Biting back a grin, she set the chocolates on the table in the hall, collected her coat and followed him to his car. She had no idea why his nervousness somehow made her feel more confident.
They were both wary about this new phase in their relationship. They both wanted things to work out—but weren’t sure how to proceed. Perhaps the best approach was just to follow his lead.
He took her to Tom’s Surf and Turf—to make up for their missed date. He had reserved a table on the deck overlooking the water and the sparkling lights of Bellevue across the lake. He had fillet mignon and she had scallops. And they talked. They talked for hours. She tol
d him about her life—well, most of it. She did hold some secrets close to her heart. Some things were too intimate for a first date, after all. He told her about his life. Told her he’d been orphaned at five and entered the foster system, which he’d hated. His life changed when Adam Bristol signed up to be his mentor.
She heard a lot about Adam and Ash on that date. Seeing his friend through Parker’s eyes, she couldn’t help but like him, which made her sad. Emily and Ash would have been so good for each other. They had so much in common and their energies were perfectly matched.
When Parker took her home, he kissed her, a soft buss, on her forehead, and asked her out again.
For the next week or so they went on casual dates. Dinner. A movie. An art showing at Jamie’s gallery. The symphony to see her friend Cassie, a famous cellist, play.
And at the end of each date, he took her home and kissed her chastely on the forehead.
While Kaitlin wanted more, and she could tell Parker did too, she sensed he wasn’t ready. So she didn’t press for more. This was a time of discovery for them. For alignment. And with each interaction, she felt herself moving closer to him. And he to her.
He had to work the night of Emily’s charity fund raiser, which was a pity. Kaitlin would have loved for him to attend. He would have enjoyed it.
Ash Bristol showed up unexpectedly, practically on his knees. He’d had a change of heart and Kaitlin had the pleasure of watching him beg Emily for another chance. Emily didn’t make him suffer for too long. And why would she? She was besotted with him. The two had always been a good match, but now that his energy had shifted, softened, they fit even more perfectly. Kaitlin hoped, sincerely hoped, there was a chance for them.
After Emily and Ash reunited, and Ash discovered Kaitlin and Parker were dating as well, he suggested they double date and between them, the guys planned a day trip out in the sound. Fishing.
When they suggested it, she and Emily exchanged wry glances. Fishing had never been Kaitlin’s favorite thing, but she loved the idea of spending the whole day with Parker. And Emily loved the water.
Though in the end, it could hardly be called a double date, because Holt came too. Probably to keep an eye on Ash. He was still annoyed about that kerfuffle with Emily, though she’d gotten over it.
And it was hardly a date because the guys pretty much talked fishing. Amongst themselves. While Emily and Kaitlin dangled their legs over the side and chatted, or stood on the deck and pretended to fish.
But it was a beautiful day. Clouds flecked the blue sky and the sun shone brightly. The boat bobbed on the water. Waves slapped at the hull as they drifted with their lines in the water.
And Emily and Parker and Holt were here—three of her favorite people.
Even Ash was growing on her.
Ash and Holt had stripped down and were fishing shirtless, their tanned chests soaking in the sunlight, but Parker kept his long-sleeved shirt on. He always wore it. Kaitlin thought of it as his shield.
It was delightful standing on the deck, holding her rod, buffeted by the breeze and the sway of the small craft. Her spirit soared as she stared out at the sparkling sea, listening to the chattered conversations of her dear friends. The guys talked about sports and cars and motorcycles mostly, and when they got hungry, Emily would bring them drinks or sandwiches—she wasn’t much of a fisherman either, but she did love being on the water…and she loved being with Ash. It was evident in the glow of happiness around her.
It was all very peaceful. Especially because no one was catching anything.
Probably because, unbeknownst to them, Kaitlin was sending little psychic warnings to the fish.
Poor fishies. They only wanted a snack. It was horrible to think they would bite on what they thought was a perfectly innocent worm—a drowning worm—to have a nasty hook spear into them and yank them from the only home they’d ever—
A warm presence sidled up next to her. She put her hand on her floppy hat, tipped up her face and smiled at him. Parker. Warmth suffused her as he stepped close. His aftershave—and the smell of bait and diesel—wafted toward her. She focused on the aftershave.
He tossed out his line and then watched as she reeled in her line and tossed it back out. Then he snorted a laugh. “You realize you’re not going to catch anything if you don’t use any bait, right?” Humor laced his tone. She loved the way his eyes danced.
She shot him a grin. “Maybe I don’t want to catch anything.”
“That is kind of the point of fishing.” He winked at her.
“I know.” She blew out a sigh. “But it makes me sad.”
“Sad?” His expression crumpled into a frown.
“Watching them squirm.”
He paled and scrubbed his face. “Great. Now if I catch anything, I’m going to have to set it free. What will we eat for dinner?”
“Pizza?”
His laugh skipped on the breeze. “No anchovies?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”
“Yeah. I thought not.” His attention snapped to his pole as the tip bobbed. But then it stopped and he let out a breath. A comfortable silence surrounded them. They stood, side by side, holding their rods and watching the little flecks of white on the waves as the wind kicked up. Her hair danced in the breeze until he tucked it behind her ear. “We could always go to the fish market after,” he said.
She made a face. “The one at Pike Place Market?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“They throw them at you there.”
“Again, also the point.”
“Have you ever been hit by a thirty pound salmon?”
“I wouldn’t mind.” He jiggled his pole and whistled into the wind. “I wouldn’t mind catching one either.”
But the next time he dropped his line in the water, there was no bait on his hook either.
After the excursion ended—dismally for the men, to Kaitlin’s amusement—they all went out to dinner at a wonderful restaurant that brought steamed clams and mussels and King crab legs in a bucket and dumped them on the table. It was noisy and messy and raucous and fun and Kaitlin had a wonderful time.
She loved watching Emily blossom with Ash.
And she loved sitting next to Parker. Because every once in a while, he would touch her knee with his, let his thigh relax against hers on the bench. His warmth soaked into her, excited her.
Their gazes tangled as they both reached for the same crab leg. He smiled and heat sizzled through her.
Because she knew. In that moment, she could tell. He was ready.
Parker’s nerves were raw by the time he drove Kaitlin home after their fishing date. He hadn’t dated much—especially after that appalling experience with Chandra, who had stared at him in horror when the shirt came off—so he didn’t know how to proceed. How many dates were enough before a man asked a woman to share his bed?
But he wanted, he really needed, more from Kaitlin. For one thing, he wanted her. She was the most physically attractive woman he’d ever met. But it was more than that. He liked her. A lot. Maybe more. The past few weeks had been a mix of heaven and hell. Heaven, because he got to see her so often, and hell…because he got to see her so often.
After each date he kissed her on the forehead and went home hard. The memory of that morning, there in Ash’s basement, her mouth around him, haunted him. Fantasies of taking her, loving her, tormented him. He wished he could just slough off his self-consciousness and claim her the way a man—a man who was not wounded and scarred—claims a woman. He wished he could just step into the skin of someone else, if only for a night.
But his fear stopped him.
She hadn’t recoiled in disgust when she’d seen his bare chest. It was possible such a thing didn’t matter to her. But his logical mind rejected the notion.
What woman would want him?
But with each date they grew closer. With each date his courage grew.
He loved how he felt when he was around her. Loved the way he
felt about himself when he was with her. As though he was a different kind of man. A man who could be someone’s hero, not just an ugly, scarred thing to be pitied.
There was never pity in Kaitlin’s eyes.
She accepted him as he was. Scars and all.
He hoped.
Tonight he was going to kiss her. Not on the forehead, but a real kiss. He was going to kiss her and see where it went.
He dared not hope.
But he dared.
He walked her to her porch, as he always did, with his hand on her elbow. But when they stopped at the door and she tipped up her chin, looking at him expectantly, he didn’t kiss her forehead. He set his palms on her cheeks and gently angled her face up.
It was just a kiss, he reminded himself. It could become more, but in the beginning, it was just a kiss. Nothing to be nervous about.
His mouth touched hers and she sighed, leaned into him. Excitement scored him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer and she followed his lead.
He tipped his head to the side to cover her more fully and her lips parted. Her tongue peeped out.
There had been lust, these past few weeks, but nothing like this lust. It rose within him and roared, like a savage beast. His cock surged. His pulse pounded. The urge to shove her back against the wall, rub against her, snarled in his belly. It horrified him.
A woman like Kaitlin deserved gentility. A tender touch. Not a man so stretched on the rack of desire that he would dry hump her on her porch after a date.
He pulled away, released her. Sucked in a breath. Raked his fingers through his hair. “Kaitlin…”
She smiled. A beatific smile. It sent shudders of remorse through him.
How could he? How could he have such base urges for an angel like—
“Would you like to come inside?” Her voice was soft and danced away on the cool night breeze, but he heard it. Hell yeah, he heard it. Every cell in his body hummed.
“Y-yes.”
She unlocked the door and took his hand, pulling him inside. He stared at her foyer, as though he’d never seen a foyer before. It was done in art deco. A runner led down the hall to the kitchen. A staircase curved upstairs—
Parker's Passion Page 8