by MK Meredith
Sage nodded. “Of course.”
Clearing the space and organizing the paintings with eight children was like herding cats through a catnip field, but eventually, Sage shut the front door and flipped the closed sign. “Phew,” she said with a hand to her brow.
“It’s been a busy week,” Parker said, leaning against the wall by the Don’t Ever Change changing rooms.
She nodded, suddenly aware of the intense look in his eyes, the fact that he’d dropped the smock, and the decadent sensation of being alone with him sending goosebumps along her skin. “Hopefully, you’re seeing how important this place is.”
She stopped before him, throwing her arms out to the sides, then letting them drop. Her fingers itched to trail along the fine hairs running from his navel down to his belt buckle.
“What do you say about showing me your studio?” He tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
“I’d say I’m scared.”
His eyes held hers while his thumb traced her lower lip.
She shivered, but didn’t back away. “It’s like stripping naked.”
His hand dropped to her shoulder, then snaked around the back of her neck. “I really want to see you naked.”
He did?
Drawing her to him, he walked them backward into one of the curtained dressing rooms and pressed his mouth to hers.
His skin was smooth and seared her fingertips in the most delicious way. She wanted her hands everywhere and all at once.
He was hot, sweet, and demanding. His tongue stroked against her own, and his hands roamed over her back and down her hips until they grabbed her bottom through the smooth fabric of her silk skirt, forcing a small whimper of “oh my God” to escape her mouth.
With his hands massaging her ass like that, her panties would never be the same again.
Her body tightened with need, and as his fingers slid up her side and covered her breast with a delicate squeeze, she groaned into his mouth. This was everything and so much more. Apparently, being adorable was a good thing.
That was all it took to unleash something she’d not witnessed before. With all his delicious weight, he pressed her up against the wall, lifting her legs until they circled his waist. His heat was hard and persistent, and she yanked him closer still, in hopes of relieving the rising tide of pressure at her center.
“I want…” she whispered against his mouth, loving the scent of him…the taste…how he felt under hands and against her skin.
“Tell me,” he demanded.
“I want you to…”
“What you want is to get your asses out of the little kids’ dressing rooms, you sickos, and come next door to help Granny with a shipment.”
Like a cold trough of water dumped over them, Harper’s voice all but drowned Sage.
Parker stilled, then dropped his forehead to hers as she slid her legs back to the ground.
Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak.
“Save it. I think I’ve seen enough and would rather not hear the narration,” Harper said, though the grin she directed Sage’s way was definitely more fist pump than punch in the face.
Parker locked eyes with Sage, telling her he wasn’t anywhere near being finished.
But Harper waved to them over her shoulder. “Come on. You owe me, and I’m cashing in. It’s time you see what it means to live in St. Helena.”
Sage couldn’t read the now neutral expression on Parker’s face. What was she going to do with him? He was trying to make his grandfather proud, and she was trying to save her grandfather’s legacy.
She had a bad feeling one of them had to lose, but God help her if that didn’t give her the strength to keep her hands to herself.
Chapter 6
Sage had never walked through The Boulder Holder horny before. It made every piece of silk, lace, and leather more decadent than she’d ever imagined. Suddenly, she could feel the cool, slippery fabric sliding across her skin and the hot press of too tight leather holding her just in the right place—all without trying on one single garment.
“Come on slow pokes, what the bejeebles were you three doing over there, having an orgy?”
Sage choked. “Grandie!” Though it wasn’t a bad idea—just her and Parker, of course, and not in a kid’s fashion store. Nothing inspired the hot and heavy like the Boulder Holder. She fanned her face. Maybe she’d give him a personal tour as soon as they were finished helping Grandie with whatever she had going on this time.
Clovis put her hands on her hips, making her well-supported bosom rise seriously close to an over-spill. Her bustier must be laced so tightly that she breathed through her skin, because there was no way in heck her lungs had room to expand.
And it was one of the things Sage loved about her great auntie.
She was her own woman, dressed to impress no one but herself. She did what she wanted, said what she wanted, and really lived life in the way that spoke to her. And she never let anyone put limitations on how she did it.
Sage had never told her but she thought it was one of the most romantic things she’d ever witnessed. Grandie had a love affair with herself that every woman should have.
“How can we help you, Ms. Owens?”
Clovis brightened. “Now, that is what I like to hear. Come on, boy.” She guided the trio to the back storage room, just off the private viewing parlor Harper had designed. The name of the room alone filled Sage with a whole slew of ideas, as she stared at Parker’s backside in front of her.
“By the by, Ida’s got her eye on your grandpa. Any chance you can put in a good word for her?” Clovis asked with a hopeful expression, as if it were the most normal conversation to have with a young man she hardly knew.
Parker’s eyes almost crossed. “My grandfather? Banon Edwards?” He scratched the side of his head. “I thought that whole scene at the wine pairing was a joke.”
“Hell no, it isn’t,” Clovis said, as she led them to a row of stacked boxes. “Ida Beamon’s single and ready to mingle.”
She pulled out a box cutter and slit the throat of the first cardboard victim. “And what she wants is to mingle with your grandpa’s dingle.”
“Ohmygosh, Grandie. You cannot say those kinds of things to Mr. Edwards. He’s trying to save Grandpa Horace’s paper.” The heat in Sage’s face had gone from mortified to kill me now, and Harper didn’t help one bit, all but busting her gut from laughing so hard.
“Better you than me,” Harper said with a shake of her head.
Parker wasn’t sure where to look and visibly appeared as if he might throw up.
She grabbed a trash can. “Here, need this? I often do when I talk to my auntie.”
The laugh he gave her was weak with a cry for help echoing within it.
“Help me with this, boy,” Clovis demanded, and Parker jumped to it.
Harper elbowed Sage in the side and whispered, “That was quite a show.”
“Shut up. You’re no better. You and Adam have had sex in this very room.”
“Maybe, but that’s what this place inspires. You two are so hot for each other boogers and fart jokes didn’t even cool you off.”
Sage rolled her eyes, choosing to ignore her cousin.
In a more serious tone, Harper asked, “How are things going? Besides the tonsil inspection, I mean.” She grinned.
Sage glanced over to see Parker heaving boxes under Clovis’s instructions. If she didn’t know better, it almost looked as though her auntie was having him move the boxes more than he had too. “Is she…”
“Oh yeah, she’s watching, making him put on a show. I don’t know what is in the water in this place, but the leopards are animals,” Harper said.
Sage resisted groaning out of sheer desperation. “If he doesn’t get scared away first, I think he’s really starting to see our town, Harper. He’s been playing with the children and making friends with the older generation. He sees how we all pull together to make one family instead of a town of families. Ya know?”
“You don’t have to convince me. I came home before you, remember?”
“I know.” Sage nodded. “I remember when you told me you were moving back. I thought you were crazy even though I’d yet to have one genuine friendship, much less a sincere relationship, in the city.” She looked around the back room of The Boulder Holder. “This is home.”
She put her hand up. “I mean, this isn’t home. It’s—”
“Poor Parker’s personal Hell?”
Sage followed the direction of Harper’s gaze. Clovis had Parker backed into a corner and was feeling his biceps.
“Heck.”
As Sage moved to save him, Harper grabbed a box of crotchless panties to unload and inventory. “Adam’s going to love this.”
“So, tell me your plans for the St. Helena Sentinel.” Clovis huffed and puffed as she removed silk robes of every color from a box.
“Oh, Grandie, he’s still figuring things out, collecting data.”
Parker took the opportunity to slide out from between Clovis and the wall. Moving a few more boxes aside with his leg, he used the box cutter and opened the rest, one after another.
“Now, this boy knows how to work. Okay, kids. Rack and stack, then we’ll get them out on the floor.”
“Happy to help,” Parker said. “And to answer your question, Ms. Owens—”
“Clovis. It’ll make all my friends jealous if they think you see me as a woman.”
He winked. “There’s no mistaking that, Clovis.”
She smiled at Sage. “I like this one.”
“Anyway…” Sage laughed.
“With everything I’ve seen this week…” He glanced at her bosom then grinned. “And it’s been a lot. I think the answer, now more than ever, is to take the Sentinel online. Most of the folks I’ve been talking to are already regular users of Facebook and Snapchat—which was a huge surprise for me, to be honest. It wouldn’t be anything to create an app that’s specific for St. Helena.”
“What?”
“Love it!”
Sage and Clovis spoke together.
A death grip tightened around Sage’s chest, making it difficult to breathe. All her effort to make sure Parker saw the true St. Helena suddenly seemed for naught. She showed him it was personal interactions and real intimacies that made her town’s heart beat, not a smart phone or laptop.
And he still, wanted to cheapen it with gigabytes and URLs?
“Sage, you’re crushing the velvet.”
She winced. “Sorry, Grandie.” She released her chokehold on the deep purple, boned bustier. Counting how many had been delivered, she marked the number on the inventory wand that computerized the whole store.
Grabbing another box to empty, she strategized the best way to handle this. If she went off—all boobs, and hair, and fingernails—he’d never listen, but if she hid behind her fear, he wouldn’t hear her, either.
She opened another box to find it filled with Come Again condoms.
Inspiration struck.
That was it.
“Parker, let me explain it in terms you’d understand. The St. Helena Sentinel is like using condoms during sex, where online is more like an unprotected one-night stand.”
“Less sensational? I don’t really think that’s what any paper’s going for,” he answered, with a that doesn’t sound great at all look on his face.
A look she really wanted to smack off. Maybe, at this point, she’d just smother him with Grandie’s bosom.
She picked up a handful of condoms, then threw them at him.
Lifting his hands, to shield his face, he batted them away, laughing. “You asked.”
“I gotta side with Parker on this one,” Grandie added.
Oh, for the love of all that was holy. Sage tried again. “Nooooo,” she ground out. “Condoms with sex are a sign of respect, of true caring. They’re putting the other person’s health and well-being as well as your own in a positon of priority and importance. A one-night stand is quick and over and hopefully forgotten. That’s what you’ll get if you put the Sentinel online. Sex without any connection. Without the making of a family. After the novelty wears off, it’ll be forgotten, untouched, and unwanted.”
“Damn,” Harper breathed. “I’ve never wanted to read the paper so much in my life.”
Sage scowled and threated with another handful of condoms.
Parker broke down the empty boxes as the women finished hanging the lingerie on rolling racks. “Sorry, Sage. You’re wrong. Taking the paper online is the answer to keeping overhead low and profits high. To keeping your job. I’ve done this before, and I’ve run all the numbers. There’s no question.”
A loud buzzing filled her head. “What do you mean, my job?”
He straightened slowly with a wary expression and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t they explain that to you? The paper can’t afford to stay in print, the only way there’s any hope of retaining your job is for the whole system to go online, including your comics—but that isn’t guaranteed, either.” He put a hand out. “Look, drawing is a hobby, right? Something to do to keep your creative juices flowing. Isn’t that what all you artists say? You have other options, don’t you? Because there’s a chance you’ll be drawing for yourself instead of St. Helena.”
A hobby? Other options? Where the hell did this arrogant jackass come up with this stuff? He was living in L.A., for God’s sake, the land of artists and broken dreams.
Broken dreams. Her heart squeezed so hard at the thought of losing the Sentinel that it was everything she could do to keep from crying. But she wouldn’t. Not in front of Parker. Not in front of the guy who couldn’t seem to take what she did for a living seriously.
Then, she thought of her submission to Andrews McMeel Publishing and all of the uncertainty turned her stomach sour and left her head pounding.
“A comic isn’t a comic if it’s read on a computer screen,” she gritted out, her voice tight, and her lids burning. Comic art couldn’t be appreciated on a computer screen, she didn’t care what the resolution was. Part of the art of a newspaper comic was the newspaper—holding it in her hand, the ink stains on her fingertips, the hot-off-the-press aroma leaving a halo of memories around her head.
Her grandfather’s warm smile as he approved her drawings from early on teased in the recesses of her mind. “You’re going to make a fine cartoonist someday, Hershey Kiss.”
She pulled her shoulders back. All thoughts of wanting to give Parker a personal tour after hours vanished, and in their place were thoughts on the best places to bury his body.
Harper laid a comforting hand on her arm.
“Again. I don’t agree,” Parker said in his all too annoying I know better voice.
Well, you’re stupid. That’s what she wanted to say, anyway, but until the bottom line was signed and there was nothing left for her to do. She had to preserve the communication between them and hope she could change his mind.
Now, it wasn’t just the paper on the line but her job, too.
She had less than five days to train a gorilla.
Chapter 7
Parker closed his eyes and tried to count backward from ten, but apparently being a big, dumb gorilla made the task impossible. Thursday had come faster than expected, and little miss romantic had curiously demanded very little of him. In fact, she had been quite placating in the past day or two. And now he knew why.
This time, the sexy little shit drew Edward the gorilla traipsing down Main Street, throwing newspapers on the ground in the Peekaboo lingerie set from The Boulder Holder. And it wasn’t bad enough that the big, hairy beast wore a bra—with cleavage, but there was a view from behind of the thong, too—with cleavage.
His ass was in the St. Helena Sentinel, and Banon James Edwards I was not happy.
“Damn it, Parker, I told you not to screw this up.”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Parker suppressed a sigh. “I’m not screwing anything up, Mr. Edwards. I can’t con
trol what Ms. Mathews illustrates.”
His grandfather remained silent.
“Sir.”
“The hell you can’t. Don’t act like an ass, and it won’t show up in the paper!” He slammed the paper down on the table. “I’ve called a meeting with the board. You’re an embarrassment to the Sentinel.”
Parker slammed his hand down on the table. “No,” he replied in a low tone, doing everything in his power not to yell. “I’m an embarrassment to you. The thing I’ve never understood is why. I’m not my father. But apparently, you aren’t able to separate the two.” He straightened, grabbing the paper. “And all this time, I’ve been running after you as if you were the smart one.”
His grandfather’s face flushed red. “The board will most certainly—”
Parker gripped the paper tighter, telling himself he could not, in fact, slap some sense into his grandfather, no matter how much the man might need it. But it was hard. His grandfather’s constant rejection chipped away at something deep inside, something Parker had been working to rebuild after every visit. Now, he was more tired than he was hurt from having to defend himself to a man who should know better. “The board will be impressed with the strategy I devised. The board will be thrilled with just how much of a profit margin I’ve been able to create. I’ve run the numbers, Mr. Edwards.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his message. “And I’m able to give the board more than they asked for. So, tell me…what exactly will the board say?”
“Well, now. You don’t really think this conversation is necessary, do you, Banon, baby?” Ida Beamon marched right through the door of the conference room with a victorious smile on her face and a power play in her step. She no longer had the look of a woman on the hunt, but of one who had her prey right in the palm of her hand.
If Parker hadn’t seen it for himself, no one, not even God himself, would have convinced him to believe it, but his grandfather blushed. With a strained voice, the old man said, “Ida, we talked about this. You can’t just show up when I’m working.”