Pillow Talk (12 page)

He shot her a sharp look and wheeled his chair around. "Into the library. Now."

Eleven

P
arker stood in the shadows, watching Meg follow
his grandfather into the library. What were the two of them conferring about? He found himself wanting to know everything about Meg and even considered either joining them or eavesdropping on their discussion.

Eavesdropping would serve his grandfather a proper turn. The old guy was quite proud of his ability to scope out the moves of his business and familial opponents through exactly that tactic.

Parker took one step forward, only to find himself stopped in his tracks and stymied in his intent by the arrival of Becca Laisance, the last person he wanted to see at that moment.

“Parker, I've been looking everywhere for you," she sighed, opening her arms to him, her upper body managing to graze his chest. "You poor, poor dear. Where have you been hiding?"

Why had he ever invited her to accompany
him to that upcoming wi
nter ball? One look at her self-
satisfied face after he'd asked her and he'd known immediately he'd made a mistake of monumental proportions.

The breasts that had helped lead him into that error pressed against him. "I am so, so, sorry about Jules
,"
she cooed, embracing him.

He patted one hand and extricated himself. “Thank you, Becca
,"
he said. “It's sad but we're coping.''

“I do hope I can help
,"
she said, far too archly for his taste. He asked himself for the second time why he'd asked her to dinner. Then he remembered he'd needed an escort for a charity dance he hadn't been able to avoid. Thank Teensy for getting him into that one, he said to himself and tried again to produce a smile for the simpering, yet very beautiful Becca Laisance.

He suddenly remembered he'd asked her to the charity ball right after the lawyer had whipped out that ridiculous release of liability. He'd done it on the rebound. Well, at least that made him feel as if he hadn't quite lost his grip on reality. Smiling broadly, he flicked a lock of blond hair back from her face, and said, “You help just by being your gorgeous self."

She performed an amazingly agile shimmy and gave him an angelic smile that promised she could behave very much like the devil herself. Amazed that he found himself unmoved
by her performance, Parker said, "Have you seen Gus?"

"Gus?" She twirled her hair with one long ruby-tipped finger.

"My nephew," he said briefly, hoping Gus hadn't fallen into Teensy's clutches. There was no telling what crime the kid would commit in order to free himself from that fate.

"Jules's little boy?" She looked at him, all wide-eyed. "He's here?"

He nodded, glancing around and moving them into the center of the hall, then closer toward the Great Parlor. He longed to do whatever it took to edge them towards the library, but he sensed Meg wouldn't be too receptive if she discovered him with Becca in tow.

"I thought he was away at school." She pouted and stopped twirling her hair long enough to sneak a glance at
the diamond-
studded watch on her right wrist. "Want to escape for awhile?"

He shook his head. "He was at St. Suplicius but we brought him home tonight."

"We?" She went back to twirling her hair.

"We. Yours truly, with help from Jules's widow."

Becca laughed. "I can't believe anyone Jules married is capable of giving help to anyone!"

Parker stared at her. A dark cloud rose in his mind. "By the way," he said slowly, "remember that charity event I asked you to attend
with me? I won't be going, on account of Jules's funeral."

“Oh, no." She really pouted this time. "And I was so looking forward to it."

"It just wouldn't be right, though, would it?" He knew his mouth had formed a grim line.

She completely missed the nonverbal cue. Tapping him on the chest, she whispered, "I'll make it up to you. Our own private charity event."

Out of habit, he flashed her a smile. "I'll take a rain check," he said, stepping back and turning away.

Straight into the path of Meg, who'd been standing behind him for who only knew how long.

Her eyes were bright, and Parker knew instinctively the image was caused by unshed tears. Continuing in her approach, she held out a hand and said in a throaty voice he didn't recognize, "Parker, introduce me to your friend?"

Ooh, she was mad. Parker hadn't been bo
rn
yesterday. Either grandfather had done it to her, or she'd been listening in on Becca's attempts to woo him. Amazed at his own selfconfession, he hoped fervently that it was the latter that had her riled up.

"Becca Laisance, Margaret Ponthier." For whatever reason, he used her formal name.

Meg smiled and held out a hand. "How do you do, Miss Laisance?" It was the first time
Parker hadn't heard her say, "Call me Meg, please."

Becca nodded, not deigning to lift her own hand. "So sorry to hear about Jules. I guess you'll be going back home soon, since he's not with us anymore?"

Meg fluttered her lashes and sighed.

Parker almost laughed out loud.

Meg said, "Why, I haven't decided. I think that's up to the family. You understand that, don't you? I've just been having the most heart-war
ming chat with Grandfather Pon
thier." She smiled up at Parker. "He's so happy we brought Gus home with us."

Becca practically glowered. Parker knew Meg was putting on a show, but instead of being annoyed he was enjoying the performance. It served Becca right. He hadn't even been on date one with the woman and she'd been acting as if she we
re God's gift to Parker A. Pon
thier.

And the only gift Parker wanted, he realized with a searing flash of insight, was the chance to get to know Margaret "Call me Meg, please" Ponthier a whole lot better.

M
eg stared at the retreating backside of the blonde, too embarrassed to let Parker see her face. If Grandfather hadn't gotten her so worked up, surely she wouldn't have carried on like that. But that woman wasn't a good-hearted sort. Meg had heard what she'd said about Jules.

"I guess I owe you yet another thanks
,"
Parker said.

"You do?”

He tipped his head in the direction of the blonde. "Meg's search and rescue.”

She smiled but said, "I'm sure you can fend for yourself with the opposite sex.”

"Some days I'm not so sure," he said, his blue eyes fixed on her face. "Did you and grandfather come to terms?”

Meg shifted her gaze to her feet and studied the conservative black pumps she'd worn for the first time that day. She'd never owned shoes so plain or boring in her life, but Jules had dressed her for the role he'd hired her to play. Staring at the shoes reminded her to toe the line and escape with her emotions intact. "We talked about the funeral,” she said.

Sadness settled into his eyes.

Meg reached out and squeezed his hand. "You've had a hard day, too, you know.”

He not only accepted her touch this time, but returned the gentle pressure on her hand.

"Well, well, back at last I see."

Meg started to yank her hand free at the sound of Dr. Prejean's voice but Parker clasped it tight.

"Hello, Prejean,” he said, his voice n
one-too-
warm.

The doctor made a point of staring at their
joined hands. "Teensy was feeling just a bit stronger so I left her in the salon with the visitors and came out for a pipe." He pulled a pipe from his jacket pocket and began filling it.

Meg wondered how long Parker was going to hold her hand. It felt good, and natural, as if her hand belonged in his. Was he holding her hand because he wanted to? Or was he using her to make a point that Prejean couldn't push him around?

"I've been thinking about doctors for Gus," Prejean said.

"He doesn't seem sick to me," Meg said.

"He's not," Parker said.

"With Teensy's blood in him and with all he's been through," Prejean said, "it's best to put him in therapy. Think of it as a preventive measure."

The pressure on Meg's hand intensified. Parker said in a dangerous voice, "Teensy's blood runs in my veins, too."

Prejean gestured with his still unlit pipe. "You're an anomaly, Parker. Always said so."

"Why, thank you, doctor," Parker said. He glanced down to where his hand covered Meg's, then slowly let go. "Sorry," he murmured, not sounding sorry at all.

Meg clasped her hands together, thinking how cold they felt as soon as Parker released her.

"Join me on the porch?" Prejean said, looking straight at her.

"Thank you, but I don't smoke."

"I'll puff in the opposite direction." He was eyeing her like she was a prime guinea pig. Meg couldn't help but feel he wanted to psychoanalyze her or perhaps to win her over to his point of view regarding Gus.

"She's expected in the Great Parlor," Parker said. "If you'll excuse us."

Without waiting for the doctor's response, Parker turned and Meg followed. Parker's hostility to the doctor was clear and readily understandable to her. Besides, given the choice, five minutes by Parker's side was worth more to her than an hour's free treatment with any doctor.

As they reached the double doors of the parlor, Meg hesitated.

Parker must have sensed her stage fright. "There aren't so many people left now. It'll be
okay."

"It's a little like being in a fish bowl," Meg said. "And I'm the new fish and everyone's swimming around to take a look."

"Can't blame them for that," Parker said. "Jules always did have good taste."

Meg blushed. She started to mumble a thank you but Teensy pounced on them in the doorway.

"How was my little grandbaby?" Teensy's eyes were open way too wide, her mouth too brightly smiling. She wore a tailored black silk dress with a hem that almost swept the floor.

"Gus is fine
,"
Parker said.

Meg nodded, wondering where Gus had gone. He wasn't with Parker, he hadn't been in the library with Grandfather and Teensy's comment confirmed he'd escaped her notice. She'd go check on him as soon as she could gracefully excuse herself. All the same people from the afternoon were in the room, plus several other couples. Bolstering herself, she listened to Teensy ramble on about her grandbaby. To hear her talk, you'd think Gus was still in diapers.

She shook hands and smiled with the visitors, grateful that Parker remained by her side. She found it hard to keep the names and faces straight. They all said the same sorts of things.
Sorry for your loss. What a tragedy. To be taken from you when you were just married. You were married only recently, weren’t you?

Feeling like the biggest impostor ever, Meg held her own, but just barely. Another blonde, almost as beautiful as Miss Laisance but slightly less aggressive, had managed to sidetrack Parker.

As soon as Meg had met the last of the visitors, she murmured an excuse and slipped from the room. At least with Gus she felt she possessed an honest purpose. Trying to help the youngster deal with his loss gave her a reason for her presence in the house. Teensy didn't need her and Dr. Prejean must have known that when he'd called Meg at the hotel
that morning. The doctor clearly liked to meddle in the family's affairs and his call to her had no doubt been prompted by that trait, one she could tell Parker despised.

Had it only been that morning? It seemed like weeks since she and Jules had left Las Vegas. She was caught in a time warp where the most amazing things happened.

Amazing things, indeed, she repeated to herself, thinking of the way Parker had been looking at her earlier and of the intimate reflections they'd shared in Gus's room. Only yesterday she'd agreed to help Jules save his family business from his greedy brother Parker. And today, she admitted, if she didn't watch her p's and q's she'd find herself falling under Parker's spell.

Gus wasn't in the other downstairs rooms. She peeked out on the porch and saw the bobbing glow of the doctor's pipe but no sign of Gus.

Grandfather Ponthier had been direct and to the point with her in their discussion in the library. He'd wanted to know when Jules had intended to send for her children. Meg, in turn, had been stumbling and evasive, finally coming up with a weak "at the right moment."

Perhaps she should have confessed then and there, but she still thought she could exit from the Ponthiers' lives gracefully and spare the family the knowledge of why Jules had married her. Of course, she still had no facts on the
buyout Jules had described, but clearly he had wanted badly enough to take the extreme measures he had employed.
Not that it's any of your business,
she scolded herself, heading up the staircase. Sign your shares over and let the Ponthiers decide their own fate.

Grandfather had ordered her—yes, that was the best word to describe his brusque behavior—to send for her children, but she'd put him off. She did so by using at least a partial truth, telling him she didn't want them to have to live through another funeral so soon after their own father's death.