One Good Reason (A Boston Love Story Book 3) (3 page)

Ejecting the thumb drive, I shove it back into my bra and power off the computer as fast as possible. I’m already reaching for my hair clip as I rush out of the office and hurry down the hallway, hoping like hell Miriam doesn’t have a shit-fit when I’m a few seconds late, or beat me to death with that stick she’s got shoved up her ass.

Doubtful.

I’m nearly back at the bathroom, so close to escape I can practically taste it, when a loud male voice rings out and stops me in my tracks.

“Hey! You! What are you doing out here? This area is off limits to attendees.”

Fuck.

I
pivot slowly
to face the two security guards striding toward me, their matching gray suits ill-fitting, their faces set in identical expressions of displeasure. I don’t know where Lancaster drummed these guys up, but they could be Schwarzenegger stand-ins on the
Terminator
set. Their muscles have muscles; their necks seem to have disappeared entirely.

“Are you boys talking to me?” I ask, doing my best bimbo impression. My voice is so high and bubbly, I’m sure the dolphins at Boston Aquarium are on high alert. I force my dark blue eyes wide, channeling
I’m-just-an-innocent-piece-of-arm-candy
vibes.

I see the slight shift of their expressions as they take me in. Their gaits slow from angry strides to strolls as they come to a stop a few feet from me.

“Miss, this area is off-limits,” the one on the right says, eyeing me skeptically.

“Oh.” I make a pouty face. A sultry shake of my head sends tendrils of hair spilling over my bare shoulders in a gold curtain. I arch my back slightly, shamelessly using my B-cups to their best advantage as a
humph
sound escapes my pursed mouth. “Well, no one told
me
that. The party is just
so
boring, I thought I’d stretch my legs.” I contort my face into mask of alarm and make my voice so breathy, Marilyn Monroe would be impressed. “I’m not… I’m not in
trouble
, am I?”

If only I had a stick of gum to chew, the Barbie illusion would be complete.

The men glance at each other and I see them silently dismiss me as a viable threat. Which is a good thing because,
seriously
, I have about twenty seconds before Miriam notices my absence and sounds the alarm.

“No, miss, you’re not in trouble.” The guard on the left, who’s maybe ten years younger than his counterpart, smiles briefly at me. “Just make sure to stay in the ballroom for the rest of the night. We’re not supposed to allow anyone back here.”

“Oh, thank you, boys!” I exclaim, winking at them. “I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on.” My tone turns suggestive. “Well… I’ll
try
to be good.”

If I’m not mistaken, a blush creeps up the older guard’s neck. The younger one is outright grinning at me.

Gotcha
.

I tilt my head and bite my lip demurely. “You know, it’s rare to meet honest-to-gosh gentlemen, nowadays. Thank you.”

“No problem, miss.”

“Y’all have a good night, now!”

“You too, miss,” the younger guard says. “Enjoy the party.”

“Oh, I won’t,” I say on a laugh, turning to go. It’s hard to keep myself from taking off at a run, but I know they’re still watching.

So, I’ll be a few minutes late. Miriam will rant. At least I won’t be cuffed in the back of a squad car.

Leaving the men behind, I’m flooded with so much relief I don’t notice the third guard coming around the corner until I’ve nearly bumped noses with her.

Yes,
her
.

Damn. Somehow, I doubt my bimbo routine will be equally effective on a woman.

“What’s happening here?” she snaps in a no-nonsense voice at the male guards behind me. “Who is this and why is she back here?”

The men move to my either side — a Schwarzenegger sandwich.

“Well, uh,” the younger guard hedges, glancing guiltily from me to the woman who is clearly his superior. “This young lady is with the party in the ballroom.”

“And?” she barks again in that condescending tone.

Superior or no, she should rethink her management strategies…. and possibly her pantsuit. It really emphasizes her cankles.

“We were just about to escort her back,” the older guard chimes in.

“Yes,” I start. “I was—”

“Quiet!” she growls, dismissing me instantly. Her focus shifts back to her men. “Mr. Lancaster said no one was allowed back here. No exceptions. Anyone caught wandering was to be brought to his attention immediately.”

“We know that, ma’am, but—”

“
No
exceptions,” she repeats, eyes narrowing. “Have you even confirmed she’s a guest?”

My mouth goes dry. I focus on the feeling of the USB in my bra and wonder if they’ll strip search me here or down at the police station…

Don’t panic,
I tell myself.
What’s the worst that can happen?

Oh, you know. Just a felony charge for trespassing and corporate espionage. Twenty years in federal prison. No big deal.

“You,” she spits at the younger guard. “Go get Mr. Lancaster and Mr. Linus, the Head of Security.” Her gaze swivels to pin the older guard in place. “If you think you can manage it, stay with her and make sure she doesn’t move until we get—”

“Oh,
there
you are, snookums!” a familiar voice interrupts her tirade. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

My wide eyes fly past the female guard and catch sight of Parker West, who’s striding down the hallway toward us with a determined look on his face. His gaze is locked on me as he pushes through the group and slides an arm around my shoulders, hauling me into his side with such familiarity, anyone watching would undoubtedly think we were something more than
just friends
.

“Where have you been?” Parker asks, peering down into my face. A warning squeeze of his fingers on the flesh of my upper arm tells me my vacant expression is blowing the whole act. The message in his eyes is clear: I’d better start playing along, pronto.

I don’t know why he’s helping me; right now, I don’t care.

I need him and he knows it.

“Here I am,” I say in bimbo-voice, turning into his chest and winding one arm between his shirt and his suit jacket. I can feel the muscled flesh beneath the fabric and instantly wonder what it would be like to run my hands down the bare planes of his back. My fingertips. My lips…

Zoe, focus! This is
so
not the time for sexual fantasies.

I try to banish the thought, but it’s difficult to focus on anything with the heat of his skin still radiating against my palm.

“I missed you, snookums,” Parker says, giving me another warning squeeze.

“I was on my way back, honey bear, I promise!” I bubble. His eyebrow twitches at the endearment. “These nice guards were just going to escort me.”

Okay, so,
honey bear
might’ve been a little much. Whatever.

“Well, so long as you’re back with me now, it doesn’t matter.” Parker steps forward, bringing me with him. “We must be getting back. Thank you all for looking out for my snookums, here.”

If he calls me
snookums
one more time I’m going to murder him.

“Mr. West, sir, that’s not exactly the case—” The female guard cuts in, trying to regain control of the situation. “She can’t just leave, we have some questions—”

“Oh, my little love bug here is always going off to powder her nose and getting lost,” he confides to the guards, who all look baffled and uncomfortable.

Pet names and PDA have that general effect, it seems.

Parker grins as he leads us down the hall, guards at our heels. “Terrible sense of direction, this one. Without me, she wouldn’t be able to find the front door of our condo.”

I grit my teeth in what I hope appears as a smile. “Thankfully, I have you to guide me,
honey bee
.”

“Mr. West, to be clear… you’re saying this woman is with you?” The female guard is frowning mightily as she trails behind us. “Because—”

“Of course she’s with me,” Parker says, coming to an abrupt stop. He pulls me closer until I’m practically fused to his side, my every curve plastered against the hard contours of his chest. I must admit, it’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling. “She wanted to stay home and watch
The Real Housewives
marathon but I simply couldn’t bear to be parted from my snookums for an entire night.”

That’s it. He’s a dead man.

“But sir—”

Parker’s demeanor shifts from playful to powerful so fast, it’s like a switch has been flipped inside him. He straightens to full height, his muscles go tense, and his voice adopts a thread of steel that was absent before.

“If you have a problem with my date, you’ll have a problem with me,” he says lowly. “WestTech is one of Mr. Lancaster’s most lucrative business partners, as I’m sure you’re aware. But if we’re going to be treated with suspicion and disrespect, maybe you
should
go get your boss.” He pauses and stares into the female guard’s eyes. “I have some of my own grievances I could air about his staff and their shortcomings.”

“Oh, no, sir,” the bitch backpedals quickly. “Of course not, sir. We meant no disrespect, you understand. Just doing our jobs.” She swallows. “Please, have a pleasant evening.”

“We will,” Parker says, cheerful once again. I find it somewhat alarming how fast he can shift gears from intimidating to exuberant. For the first time, I wonder if there’s something more to the playboy facade he puts on for paparazzi and the public.

I don’t dwell on the thought, because we’re suddenly moving again. This time, the guards don’t follow as we make our way down the hallway toward the ballroom. His arm remains tight around my shoulders even after we’ve left their line of sight.

When we reach the bathroom where I changed earlier, I dig my heels in and draw to a stop. He glances at me curiously, mouth parting to ask a question I don’t want to answer. Before he can say a word, I shove open the door, grab hold of his arm, and drag him in after me.

The door slams with finality, closing us together in the small space.

Breathe, Zoe.

I put as much distance between us as possible — which only amounts to about six feet, in the tiny bathroom. For a moment, we just stare at each other in silence.

With his hands shoved casually into his suit pockets and his tall frame leaning back against the door he looks totally relaxed, as if what just happened was no more interesting than the dinner party taking place thirty steps down the hall. His eyes though — they’re totally alert and keenly intelligent as they hold mine. I get the sense they don’t miss much.

“So,” he says softly, shattering the quiet. I go tense, waiting for the inevitable questions. The threats. The demands.

Who are you? What were you doing?

Tell me, or I’ll turn you in before you can say “twenty-five to life.”

I’ll keep your secret… if you make it worth my while…

I fight off a shudder and brace myself.

A tiny crease appears in the space between his eyes, like he’s mulling something over.

“I’m thinking there should be one of those giant floating balloons, now,” he murmurs. “Maybe a celebrity float. No one super famous, who’d overshadow me on my big day, obviously. Anthony Bourdain could work. I wonder if he’s free for private events…” He shrugs his shoulders. “If not, we’ll just go with two balloon floats.”

The whole time he’s talking, I feel my eyes getting wider.

He’s insane,
I realize bleakly.
Parker West is certifiably insane.

“Excuse me?” I manage, when I’ve finally regained control over my vocal cords.

“Balloons.” His head tilts and he looks at me like
I’m
the crazy one for not keeping up. “You know, like Macy’s has every Thanksgiving.”

I stare at him. “Are you having some kind of mental break, right now?”

“The parade.
My
parade. The one you promised me.” He pushes off the wall and takes a step toward me, narrowing the number feet between us to five. This close, I suddenly recognize the humor lurking at the back of his eyes. “I’m thinking it’s going to have to be pretty elaborate,” he says quietly. “Considering I’ve saved your ass twice now,
snookums
.”

“Don’t call me that.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping it might muffle the sound of my heart slamming against my ribcage. “And, I will point out, I didn’t ask you to save me. Either time.”

“I didn’t ask to be this good looking.” He grins. “Things happen.”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“Trouble, aren’t you?” he counters, taking another step toward me.

Four feet left.

“No,” I lie, heart still hammering.

His grin widens. He knows I’m full of shit.

“Too bad.” His eyes flicker to my mouth. “I’m rather fond of trouble.”

Gulp.

This whole night has been a clusterfuck of epic proportions. First the groper in the pinstripe suit, then the standoff with the guards, now the playboy billionaire with some weird tendency to channel his inner Lancelot like I’m a freaking damsel in distress… and, just so I have something to look forward to, later I’ll have Miriam to deal with.

By this point there is a zero percent chance that she hasn’t noticed my absence, which means I’ll probably have to cut and run without finishing the job —
not
ideal, since if a breach is ever discovered in the LC network, they’ll be much more likely to suspect responsibility lies with the cater-waiter who conveniently disappeared after the first half of her shift. To add insult to injury, I won’t even get paid for the two hours I spent schlepping trays and fending off lewd advances.

“Listen, just tell me what you want so we can get this over with,” I say, trying to sound like I’m in control and not about to defy national health statistics by having a heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-four.

“What I want?” he asks in a precariously gentle tone.

“Yes.” I take a breath that does nothing to steady me. “To keep quiet about this.”

“Why would you assume I want something?”

“Everyone wants something.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Well,
what
I
want is to not be be indebted to you.” I jerk my chin up. “I don’t want to owe anyone anything. Ever.”

There’s a pause as he weighs my words and I get the sense he’s trying to figure me out. I could save him the time — tell him I’m a puzzle with so many missing pieces he’d be better off throwing the whole damn thing in the trash — but I don’t waste my breath.

“Have you considered the possibility…” he says after a while, his voice full of gravel. “…that I might want something you don’t want to give me?”

“I…” I swallow. “I can give you money. Not upfront, but I could pay you in installments… or… something…” I finish weakly, watching him take another step toward me.