Page 36 of Parker
As for Quinn’s feelings for me—which Harper believes are real, true, and long-standing…I can’t even go there. His feelings aren’t any of my business unless he shares them with me. Not to mention, whatever they are—whatever they’ve been or may become—I’m under no obligation to encourage, accept, or reciprocate them. I still don’t know if I believe they exist…and part of me—a large part of me—hopes they don’t. Attraction or not, I don’ttrustQuinn, which makes liking him—letting alone ever loving him—feel impossible.
I end my shower with the same emotion I felt when I turned on the water—confusion. But I don’t have time to marinate in my thoughts anymore. I have a convention to attend and a brand to sell. My family’s counting on me, and frankly, I’m grateful to be done thinking about Quinn Morgan for now.
Turning off the water, I towel off and blow dry my hair before dressing in my usual Stewart Travel polo shirt and pressed khaki skort. Staring at myself in the mirror as I dust blush on my cheeks and brush mascara on my lashes, I remind myself that the purpose for my trip to Vegas is business, not personal.
Quinn Morgan notwithstanding, I tell myself, try to keep it that way.
***
The convention center is buzzing with activity when I enter the room and walk down the aisle to my table. I keep my eyes straight ahead, trying not to look at Quinn’s table until the last second, when I glance left to find he’s not there.Huh. He’sprobably in the bathroom or meeting up with other travel planners for breakfast before the day begins—
“Watch it!”
Boiling hot liquid sloshes onto my shirt, burning my skin through the fabric of my polo shirt. Without thinking, I gasp in pain and pull it over my head, throwing it on the floor where it joins the four coffee cups and one cardboard tray that have been spilled. Standing in a drenched aqua sports bra and sodden skort, I jerk my head up to face the person who bumped into me.
“What the heck?” I cry.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” he demands, staring at me with bright blue eyes. His face softens as it scans mine. “Are you okay?”
“Watch whereI’mgoing?Youbumped intome!” I cry, looking down at the exposed skin over my bra to find it red and angry. “And no, I’m not okay! I’m burned! It hurts!”
When I look back up, he’s whipping his own polo shirt over his head and holding it out to me. This act of chivalry reveals a tan, toned torso that, frankly, isworthnoticing.
“Here. Put this on,” he says.
I take the red polo shirt and throw it over my head. Looking down, I see the wordsJones Hospitality Groupembroidered in cursive over my heart.
Jones.Like Skylar Jones. Like the Jones brother who worked with Hunter last summer and was such an asshole.Was it Dick? No. That wasn’t it.I whip my head up again.It was—
“I’m Rick. Rick Jones,” he says, holding out his hand. “And you are…?”
“Parker Stewart,” I say, crossing my arms over my still-tender chest. Out of loyalty to Hunter, I’m not shaking Rick Jones’s hand.
“Yeah,” he says, a slow grin spreading across his not-ugly face. “I know who you are, actually. I saw you once.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh,” he hums, still grinning at me.And shoot, but that’s a sexy smile. “I worked with your brother, Hunter, last summer. When we pulled into Skagway, you and your sister were waiting for him at the docks.”
“I remember waiting for him,” I say. “But I don’t remember you.”
“I was up on deck. I asked Hunter if you were legal. He said he’d beat me black and blue if I went near you.”
“Sounds like Hunter,” I say, laughing softly as I picture my oldest brother getting protective.
“But Hunter’s not here now,” says Rick Jones, crossing his arms over his chest. His arms are muscular, and his naked pecs pop above them, his washboard abs contoured and hard below.Damn it, he’s not bad looking.“How about lunch, Parker?”
“With you?”
“You’re wearing my breakfast,” he says, leaning into some sexy banter. “Least you can do is buy me lunch.”
“You’re fresh,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says, “but I’m cute, right?”
I’m about to tell him that he’s notthatcute, when—
“What the fuck, Rick?”