Lone Star Wedding. Sandra Steffen
between them, she lowered her voice and said, “Perhaps if you combed the numbers on a public rest room wall, you could find someone to accommodate you.”
He watched through narrowed eyes as she stopped a dozen feet away to speak to her brother, Cole. She didn’t glance back at Parker, but when she dragged her brother onto the dance floor, Parker got her message loud and clear. She wanted to dance. Just not with him.
Checkmate.
Parker considered himself a reasonable man, but he still saw red. He wasn’t accustomed to having his overtures rejected, dammit. Although he had to admit her technique had been noteworthy.
Everything about Hannah Cassidy was noteworthy.
He’d noticed her when she’d first arrived. Every hair on his body had raised slightly, as if he was standing too close to an electric fence. He’d been on sensory overload ever since. It wasn’t the color of her dress that made such an impression, but the lack of color. It was a pale shade of brown, so close to the color of her skin that at first glance it almost appeared as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. Almost. Every man in the universe knew just how provocative almost could be.
The dress was semi-transparent from the knees down, and if you looked close, in a three-inch band around her waist. It left her shoulders bare, but wasn’t low cut in the front or in the back. It was the kind of dress a woman who neither felt compelled to flaunt her body nor hide it wore. That such a woman existed was an intriguing concept, one Parker would have to ponder later. Hannah wore no necklace or rings. He’d checked her left hand twice. Her hair appeared darker beneath the twinkle of hundreds of tiny lights, a few tresses curling down her neck and in front of her ears, the rest secured high in the back with a single brown comb.
He didn’t know much about her. He sure hadn’t had any luck garnering information from the waiter who’d dumped chocolate mousse on his tie, or from the eccentric blonde who owned The Pink Flamingo, although he was certain she had been withholding information. Still, Parker hadn’t had to ask who Hannah was tonight. He’d known the moment he’d seen her standing next to Lily Cassidy. Although the eyes and color preferences were different, the resemblance between mother and daughter was unmistakable.
He was still watching Hannah when his father materialized out of a nearby crowd. Ice cubes clinked in the bottom of the older man’s empty glass. “Ryan Fortune is as stubborn as a mule, but his bourbon is the best money can buy.”
J. D. Malone was an inch shorter than his son and kept his weight within fifteen pounds of what it had been when he was young. Women enjoyed him. Men either feared him or revered him. Few actually liked him. Most of the time, the jury was out as to where Parker stood in regard to his father. “I take it you haven’t had any luck talking sense into Ryan concerning his affair with Lily Cassidy. The man’s not thinking with his head. I never trust the opposition, and I trust Sophia Fortune less than most. That woman isn’t going to let go of Ryan’s fortune without one hell of a fight. His infatuation with the Cassidy woman is a serious mistake.”
Parker shook his head. “Infatuation? Ryan wants her the way a man in the desert wants water.”
J.D.’s tone hardened. “That’s lust. If he can’t control his sexual urges he should find himself a call girl, at least until his divorce is final. I wouldn’t expect a man like him to shop on street corners. There are agencies these days that operate out of penthouses. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way to go. You get what you pay for, I always say.”
Parker wouldn’t want to be the one to suggest such a thing to Ryan Fortune. He wouldn’t recommend J.D. do it, either. His father had never preached honor when it came to sex. His sex talk had consisted of taking precautions and using discretion. No wonder Parker had jumped to the wrong conclusion in that damned storage room last week.
J.D. returned to the group of men he’d been talking to. Parker stayed in the shadows, scowling.
The song finally ended. He noticed it didn’t take long for one of Ryan’s nephews to ask Hannah to dance and for her to accept. Sipping seltzer water over ice, Parker stood apart from the crowd, biding his time. Fifteen more minutes and he would be able to leave.
Time was almost up when he noticed a pale-brown blur out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see Hannah slip away from her latest suitor and stroll along one of the curving walkways in the distance. Placing his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, Parker glanced at his watch. Might as well put his time to good use.
Trying to catch her breath after all that dancing, Hannah smiled as she passed the teenage girls sitting on a weathered bench near the rose arbor. She strolled slowly along the path, her step light, the heels of her shoes clicking softly over the flagstone walk.
The garden was lovely, scented with honeysuckle and roses moist with dew. The paths were lit, but not nearly as brightly as the courtyard near the house. Here, shadows beckoned guests to enjoy the quietude of a leisurely stroll. If her mother’s wedding could have taken place anytime other than winter, Hannah would have loved to see it set right here. A few months ago she’d planned a wedding that had taken place in an arboretum where the lush ground cover had been mowed, creating a cloudlike carpet of delicate purple blooms.
Winter weddings were lovely, too, and would be the perfect time to accent in her mother’s favorite color, red. Hannah was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the muted sound of a man’s footsteps behind her until they were very close. She glanced casually over her shoulder, and came to an abrupt stop.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Parker Malone said quietly.
She rallied quickly, impatient to be on her way. “I startle easily.”
“I called your name,” he said. “But I think the saying goes something like you seemed to be miles away.”
“I have a lot on my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
They both stepped in the same direction, paused, then tried going the other way. Hannah said, “What are you doing, Parker?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to kill a little more time before I can make a departure that’s socially acceptable. I thought I’d take a walk.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll leave you to your walk.” This time she darted around him, only to sigh in resignation when he fell into step beside her.
“I find myself in unfamiliar territory,” he said quietly.
The grounds were magnificent, but something told her that Parker Malone was accustomed to the finer things in life. “Unfamiliar, how?” she said, curious in spite of herself.
“I seem to be in the middle of a situation that calls for an apology.”
She felt his eyes on her, but she continued to look straight ahead.
“I’m afraid I’ve never been good at saying I’m sorry.” His voice had dropped in volume, losing its steely edge.
“At least you’re honest.”
“I’m sorry.”
She glanced up at him then, and they shared a small smile, because the way he’d said it, he could have been apologizing for being honest.
“I jumped to the wrong conclusion about you the first time we met. I would have apologized sooner, but I didn’t know your name, let alone your telephone number. So I left my card with your friend and waited for you to contact me. Evidently she didn’t see fit to pass it on to you.”
“Adrienne gave me your card, Parker.” Hannah fell silent, letting the implications soak in. She’d chosen not to call him. End of story. He didn’t need to know she’d taken his business card out of the drawer three times last week.
Strains of music wafted from the courtyard. Night insects hummed and squeaked as if the musicians were playing just for them. No one else had ventured this far away from the party. Hannah was aware of how secluded this section of the garden was, and