Hot Ticket (7 page)

“I don’t know,” she said, thinking about that. “I work out. I read a lot.”

“Anything else?”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know,
guys
? Do you date? Do you have friends? Do you eat the young in your family for breakfast?”

She couldn’t help laughing. “Only occasionally and always fried. Yes, of course I have friends, Parker. Hard to believe, I know, but some people actually
like
me.”

“Guys?”

“Guys?”

“Do
guys
like you,” he reiterated.

“Hey,” she said with a laugh and forked a huge bite of cheesecake they were sharing in celebration of the ESPN call. “
Guys
like me. At least I think they do. Okay, honestly, it’s been a while since I had time to date, so I’m not really sure anymore. It’s my hours,” she said, by way of explanation. “What about you? Friends? Dates who aren’t groupies? Kids?”

“No kids. Tons of friends. Lots of dates, too, but no one steady in about five years.”

“Aha,” she said and pointed a fork with a hunk of cheesecake at him. “You’re the old wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy.”

“I most certainly am not,” he said, taking the fork from her hand and eating the hunk of cheesecake. “I will have you know that I enjoy the company of a beautiful woman because I am a man. Men like women. But that does not make me a slut.”

“Sure, Romeo,” she said, and snatched her fork back, took another piece of the cheesecake, and popped it in her mouth.

“I’m serious. I don’t date a lot because most women I meet want to go out with me because I am quasi-famous or rich, which seems to be my best assets as far as they are concerned.”

“Wow,” she said, realizing, for the first time, that there might possibly be a downside to being Parker Price on any given day. “So what do you do with all those freeloaders when you date them? Take them to the museum?”

He laughed. “I have reserved that for my dates who are culturally challenged,” he said, putting down his fork. “I don’t know. Dinner, I guess. Or maybe catch a show. And if we hit it off, maybe a nightcap.”

“Uh-huh. At your place.”

“No. At a nice, quiet club.”

“Huh,” she said. “That actually sounds like a nice date. But not one I’d go on.”

“Why not?”

“Too boring.”

“Oh yeah? What would your ideal date be?”

“Well, if I were going out with someone like you, for example, I’d probably take him to the batting cage and give him a few pointers,” she said with a wink.

Parker laughed. “God help me the day I get batting tips from you.”

“Then, if a guy like you actually started to improve his batting, I’d probably take him to a Yankees game so he could see the big boys play.”

“Oh, now that’s a low blow,” he said, slapping a hand over his heart.

“Better than Broadway,” she said.

“Depends on one’s perspective.”

“Museums aren’t that great, either—”

“Uh-uh,” he said instantly, shaking his head and signaling for the check. “You agreed and you owe me. We’re going to a museum.”

“Great,” Kelly said with a playful sigh and polished off the cheesecake.

But actually, today, even a museum sounded good.

Parker couldn’t believe the amount of crap a two-hour morning radio show apparently generated, based on the stuff Kelly was carrying. She had a bag hanging off both shoulders, plus she had an armload of binders. When she suggested they drop off the stuff at her apartment, he couldn’t agree fast enough.

Of course she lived in a walk-up. Parker was impressed that, even though she was carrying what he thought had to be thirty pounds, she jogged up the stairs to the third-floor of a pre-war brownstone that had been parsed into six apartments. Hers was on the top floor, where she fit her key into the door and flung it open. He liked fit women.

Kelly’s apartment was small, but it had twelve-foot ceilings, floor-to-ceiling bay windows that overlooked the community garden between buildings, and hardwood floors. She had an overstuffed brocade couch and giant chair in the middle of her living room—the only room in the place, save the bedroom—and a fireplace that had been bricked off but still had a very cool brass
mantel. The kitchen was small but larger than what was typical in New York, and she had new appliances.

“Make yourself at home, and I’ll be right with you!” she called, disappearing into the bedroom.

Parker put her laptop on a small table near the kitchen and walked into the big living area. There was a small TV in one corner, but at the angle it sat, he had the impression it was seldom used. She was an avid reader, too, judging by the many ways books had been stuffed into her built-in bookcases. A row of pictures along the mantel caught his eye, and he wandered over to have a look. There were pictures of Kelly with a dog and with a woman who looked a lot like her. Another was of a family gathering of some sort, a picture of her at a bar with a bunch of people.

But no guy
. Excellent. No former lover. No guy pal.

“What are you doing?”

He turned around—Kelly had changed her black sweater and donned a wispy, long-sleeved flowery pirate-looking shirt through which he could see a very lacy bra, and she’d let down her hair from the pony tail; it fell in soft blond waves around her shoulders. Damn. Just when he thought she was about as hot as a woman could possibly be, she turned up the flame.

“Hello?” she said, laughing a little.

“Just looking at your pictures,” he said, gesturing blindly to the mantel behind him.

“I should really put up some new ones. Those are ancient.” She walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a bottle of water. “Want some?”

Parker nodded and followed her into the kitchen. She ducked behind the refrigerator door and then stood up, smiling brightly, and handed him a water. When he took it from her, he couldn’t help himself—he let his fingers linger on hers. And then he drank, watching her.

Kelly—beautiful, self-assured Kelly—flushed a little and put her bottle back in the fridge, closed the door, stood there looking at it,
opened it again, and took the bottle out. “Water,” she said, as if reminding herself what she was doing.

“Shall we get going?” Parker asked, enjoying the soft pink of her skin.

“Yeah. Can’t wait to get to the museum,” she said with a roll of her eyes, and opened the fridge door, put the bottle of water back in, and shut it. She glanced up at Parker, smiled, and then tried to step around him. But her kitchen was too small, and she accidentally brushed up against him.

With the woman’s near-perfect body, clad in a flimsy pirate shirt and lacy bra holding round, perky breasts against him, his one hundred percent male body went into full alert at the feel of a woman’s body against it. Without thinking, Parker put up an arm to stop her from going any farther.

Pressed up against him, the counter behind her, and stopped by his arm, Kelly laughed softly and lifted a blistering green gaze to his face. “What are you doing?” she asked his lips.

“Don’t know,” he answered truthfully and lowered his mouth to hers.

He couldn’t help it—she was so pretty, so spunky, so sexy. He touched her lips, lightly and carefully, just enough to taste her. But then the pure male in him sprang to rapt attention, and he put down the bottle of water he was holding and slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her in even closer, nipping lightly at her lower lip.

He expected Kelly to push him away, to slap him. But once again, she surprised him. She didn’t do any of that, just opened her mouth beneath his and breathed sweet breath into his mouth. That was it, all the invitation he needed, because he was suddenly kissing her with every ounce of himself, his tongue in her mouth, his hands on her body, sliding up and down, over her breasts, down her hips.

When Kelly came up for air, she said breathlessly, “This isn’t me. I don’t just make out with guys I hardly know.”

“Me, either,” he said, and kissed her again, swallowing her laugh.

But Kelly pushed away. “No, seriously, I don’t do this.”

“We’re not doing anything,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, the bridge of her nose. “We’re just saying hi.”

“If this is your ‘hi,’ I wonder what your ‘so long’ is like.”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to find out.”

“Parker . . .” she reared back, looked at his eyes and then his lips, her green gaze soft.

“Hey, for what it’s worth, I’m not exactly the guy who starts off like this, either.”

“Then why are you?”

“Because, Kelly O’Shay, from the moment we met, I have been thinking about you,” he answered honestly. “I’ve been thinking about how funny you are, and how you aren’t wowed by celebrity and you don’t think I’m the guy who can get you or keep you out of trouble. But most of all,” he said, pausing to nip at her lip, “you’re just so damned good-looking.”

She laughed with surprise. “Really?” she asked.

“Really.”

“And you’re attracted to me, even after everything I said?”

“
Especially
after everything you said,” he said sternly.

Kelly grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him close so that her luscious lips were just a moment from his. “Even when I said you couldn’t hit the side of the Goodyear blimp?” she whispered.

“Don’t push it,” he whispered in response, “But yeah, even then.”

“That’s so
sweet
,” she purred, and planted her mouth firmly on his, flicking her tongue against the seam of his lips.

Somewhere, in the back of his tiny little man pea brain, Parker didn’t think he’d ever wanted a woman so bad in all his life as he did right then and there, and grabbed her by the waist, crushing her to him, angling his head so he could kiss her long and deep.

Kelly purred in the back of her throat, and that was about all she wrote. He suddenly twirled her around, pushed her up against the fridge, and started moving down her very curvy, very feminine, and very sweet-smelling body. Kelly laughed low and huskily as refrigerator magnets went flying and scudding across the kitchen floor.

He pressed his mouth against her belly, through the gauzy fabric of her pirate shirt, while he filled his hands with her breasts, then slid down, to the curve of her waist, and down again, digging his fingers into the meat of her hips.

“Jesus, Parker,” Kelly said breathlessly. He rose back up, claimed her mouth again, his tongue tangling with hers, sliding against her teeth, the plump flesh of her mouth. Christ, she smelled so damn good—he could get high off a scent like that.

He pressed against her, and Kelly pressed back, moving seductively against his fly, which was straining to the point of bursting now. He’d had plenty of women in his arms, but he was convinced in that moment that he’d never held or felt a more beautiful or sexy woman than Kelly. He was one step away from yanking the pirate shirt from her body when she suddenly put her hands against his shoulders and pushed.

He raised his head, his mind swimming out of the fog of wanting her so bad, and looked at her. Kelly was still up against the fridge. Her hair was all mussed up. Her lips were swollen from their passionate kisses, and her neck was still wet where he’d kissed her. One long, booted leg was hiked up against the fridge, too, and her skirt was pushed so far up he could almost see Nirvana. Her eyelids hung heavy over warm green eyes, and she was smiling. One long, satisfied little smile stretched across her lips.

That smile did him in. He reached for her again, but Kelly laughingly held him at arm’s length. “I reserve the right to skewer you on the air if you play bad.”

“What?” he asked anxiously, her words not registering clearly.

“I have a job to do. So if you play bad, you are fair game.”

Parker laughed low in his throat and slipped his hand between her legs and one finger beneath the tiny strip of fabric of her panties. Kelly gasped softly and closed her eyes. “I mean it.”

“Why don’t we talk about that later,” he suggested with a bit of a growl, and pushed her arm aside and planted his lips on hers again.

This time, there were no interruptions. He quickly helped Kelly out of her shirt and lacy bra, so that her breasts were exposed and in his hands. He grabbed her up as if she weighed nothing and twirled her around, seating her on the countertop, then braced his arms against it as he took one breast in his mouth and then the other.

Kelly caught her breath, arched her back, and thrust her breast into his mouth at the same moment her hands dug into his hair, while making sounds that suggested she was enjoying his attention to her breasts. Parker’s hands were skimming wildly over her body and her bare breasts, up her thighs and between them. She dropped her hands to his shoulder, her breathing raspy, and then to his shirtfront. When Parker lifted his head from her breasts, she caught his mouth with a kiss as she began to undo the front of his shirt.

She slipped her hands inside his shirt and sighed into his mouth as her fingers slid over his pecs, his hardened nipples, and then down his sides. “You’re gorgeous. I can’t believe this,” she said breathlessly as she scraped across his back and middle with her fingernails. “I wasn’t going to like you.”

“I wasn’t going to like you either,” he said, just as breathlessly, and caught her bottom lip between his teeth, then pressed his forehead to hers. “But I’m definitely liking you now, girl.”

“That’s great. Do you have a condom?” she asked, sliding her hand down and over a world-class, ought-to-win-an-award erection.

“Not on me,” he admitted with a wince.

Kelly suddenly pushed him away, slipped down from the
counter, and hurried into the living room to an end table near the sofa. She yanked open the drawer, threw several papers and things onto the floor, then whirled around, holding up a condom in her hand. She was naked from the waist up, her chest rising and falling with her gulps for air, wearing a short skirt and boots, and damn, Parker could come just looking at her.

“It’s a little old, but it oughta do the trick.”

He was next to her in three strides, and in a few moments, he had removed everything from Kelly but her boots. “Let’s keep the boots,” he suggested with a wink as he yanked his shirt from his body, then his shoes and pants.