The Garrisons: Parker, Brittany & Stephen: The CEO's Scandalous Affair

And his hands. God, she adored those hands. Like the feet, they were all size and strength. She watched his fingers close over the base of the water glass and remembered how they’d felt on her thigh, branding her with heat and desire.

“Can’t you just imagine a seven-year-old girl doing that?” he asked.

A little wave of panic dried her throat again. She had no idea what he’d said. “No,” she replied, hoping it was the right answer.

His smile was slow and teasing. “No, you can’t imagine, or no, you didn’t hear a word I said?”

Did he have to be so damn charming? That wasn’t making this any easier.

Before she could answer, he leaned on one hand, the one that was perilously close to her hip, and trained that hot, dark gaze on her. “So, what’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. The endearment almost ripped her in half. Pulling up all her inner strength, she opened her mouth to say, “We have to be friends,” just as Brittany Garrison arrived at the table, carrying a plate of sushi appetizers.

“I hate to interrupt this obviously important business meeting, but my chef has outdone himself in your honor.” She set the plate between them, but looked at her brother. “We wouldn’t want to falter in the kitchen now, would we?”

Parker plucked a tuna roll and winked at her. “No, we wouldn’t, Britt. Do you remember my administrative assistant, Anna Cross?”

Anna reached out to shake Brittany’s hand. “Hello, Brittany.”

Brittany gave her a thorough assessment. “Of course we’ve met,” she said warmly. “But you only worked for him then. How long have you been dating?”

“We’re not—”

“Go away, Britt,” Parker said, shooing her with a tuna roll. “It’s bad business to annoy the patrons.”

She merely shot him a sideways glance. “I need to know what night you want to reserve this place for Mother’s sixtieth surprise bash.”

He popped the sushi and chewed, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin and nodding in approval. “Nice, fresh fish, Britt. Compliments to the kitchen.”

“What night, Parker? I have a business to run so I need to know when I can and cannot accept reservations.”

“Accept everything. We’re not doing it here. Adam’s having it at Estate.”

Brittany’s elegant, sculpted jaw dropped and she snapped her arms across her chest. “We decided—”

“Adam convinced me.”

“Or you made another wholesale decision without discussing it with anyone else.”

He shrugged. “It makes way more sense to have it there. The party is a critical PR move for the family.” For a moment, he paused and glanced at Anna, as though he wasn’t sure he wanted her to hear that. “So, we’re having it there.”

Brittany’s eyes narrowed, Anna obviously forgotten in the midst of a Garrison family squabble. But Parker didn’t even notice. Because his decisions were made and abided, Anna thought. And never second-guessed.

By anyone.

Just like, she thought with a sickening wave of clarity, Michael Montgomery. Reminding her of why she’d come to this restaurant with this man: to stop any personal relationship before it started.

“Have a tuna roll, Anna,” he said, sliding the plate closer to her. “Let’s take this up in private, Britt. This isn’t fair to Anna. How ‘bout the house special tonight. Would you handle the ordering for us, so we can talk?”

Brittany nodded. “Of course. Enjoy your dinner,” she said coolly. “And your date.”

Anna sat up a little straighter. “This isn’t a date,” she said, her words making Parker freeze in the act of reaching for sushi. “But I’m sure we’ll enjoy your lovely restaurant.”

The corners of Brittany’s mouth curled up and she gave Parker a raised eyebrow. “You do that.” Without another word, she left the table.

In a move so smooth and fast, Anna almost didn’t see it, Parker flipped the drape and shrouded them in gauzy privacy.

“What do you mean this isn’t a date?” he asked, his voice only half-playful.

For a moment, she thought he was going to punctuate that question with a kiss, as though that would prove it was most certainly a date.

“I guess it’s time for us to talk,” she said, squaring her shoulders even more. “And please don’t interrupt me.”

He just lifted a brow, silent.

“I’ve given this a lot of thought,” she started. “Since… Saturday. Since London.” Since we kissed. But she didn’t need to say that. The thought was reverberating through the small, tight space they occupied. “I think what happened was…” Amazing. Provocative. Tempting. “Not a great idea.”

Still, he said nothing, focusing on her so intently, she could feel it singe her skin.

“I like my job,” she continued. “I actually love my job. And I’d like to keep it. So, I want to… forget what happened. I’d like to be friends, of course. But you are my boss and I work for you and anything else is out of the question.”

She paused, long enough for him to respond. But still, he just looked at her, his gaze wicked and direct. Until it dropped to her mouth and threatened to take her breath away.

“Don’t you agree?” she finally asked.

“No.” He dipped his head, the word almost lost as he lowered his head, slowly, intently, and kissed her, leaning so far into her that she almost fell back on the bedlike seat. His tongue teased her lips apart as he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her into his chest, the hammering of his heart as shocking to her as the complete ownership his mouth had taken.

Finally, after her ears sang with pounding, pulsing blood, he released her.

“I don’t agree,” he said, a sneaky smile tipping his lips just before he kissed her again, gently this time, mouth closed, eyes open. “I do not agree at all.”

“Don’t make this hard for me,” she whispered. “You know I like to kiss you. You know I’m attracted to you. But I want to keep my job.”

He backed away, just an inch, the playfulness gone from his eyes as he studied her. “Why is that so important to you?”

“Because it’s how I make a living.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She frowned, confused. “Yes.”

“You’re not…” He leaned his head in question. “Involved with another man?”

She shook her head, regarding him warily. “I wouldn’t have even kissed you in London if I were.”

“So there’s no other man in your life.”

Parker was a possessive man. Was that the reason he was forcing this angle? “No,” she assured him. “There hasn’t been for a long time.”