The Penthouse Pact Page 7

“So do you. You work eighteen-hour days.”

  How the hell did she know that? “Layla—”

  “Do you really want to keep doing this?” she asked, throwing his words back at him.

  Damn rebellious woman.

  “I’m not—” She pushed the blankets off and threw her legs over the side. He jumped up from his chair. “Get back in that bed.”

  “Only if—”

  “Fine,” he said stomping to the other side of the room and sliding in beside her.

  “Just no touching,” she said.

  “I’ll draw up a fucking contact contract.”

  “And I’ll sign it.” She snuggled in next to him. “Please add: no scooping me up, lifting me to put me on the counter, or carrying me in or out of a car with stupid door handles.”

  “My car is not stupid, and I did those things to help you.”

  “I don’t need any help.” She shoved a pillow in between them and gave a triumphant sigh.

  “You’ve been touching me, too, you know.”

  “Fine, what do you want to add to the contract?”

  “Nothing,” he groaned out.

  She turned to him. “Nothing. You have to add something if—”

  “I never said I didn’t like you touching me.”

  Her eyes went wide as her sweet scent reached his nostrils, and he stifled a moan. As his cock swelled, he worked to purify his thoughts.

  Fuck.

  Nothing good could come from this. Nothing good at all.

  Chapter Six

  Beside her, Parker lay still. Perfectly still. He could pretend to be asleep all he wanted, but from his breathing, it was clear he was wide awake and not too happy about the situation. But how could she let him sleep in the chair? It felt wrong. And for God’s sake they were both adults. Surely they could share a bed and act like mature grown-ups.

  He never said he didn’t want me touching him.

  Her mind played that over as sleep pulled at her, and she stretched, her foot briefly touching his legs. Electricity shot through her, and suddenly she wasn’t so sure about this crazy plan of sleeping together and their no-contact rule.

  I want contact!

  Great, just great.

  “Sorry,” she said, sounding far more breathless than she would have liked.

  He mumbled curses under his breath and shifted, and she couldn’t help but grin, despite the chaos going on inside her body. Parker might be a hard-ass, but there was more to the Stuck-Up-Suit after all. And so much more going on under the suit.

  All along she’d thought he brought her home so she wouldn’t sue him, yet that wasn’t the case at all. He had some strange obligation because of his grandma. Still, she had to admit, he was kind of sweet, in a bossy, arrogant kind of way.

  Her mind raced back to the kiss, and she pressed her fingers to lips that still tingled. What the heck was that really all about? He’d never noticed her sexually before… Heck, he’d never even noticed her at all before. Now he was telling her she could touch him. Well, not in those words, but he did say he never said she couldn’t touch him. Semantics, and all.

  Her plan had been to annoy him to get him to pay attention to her, but she hadn’t even gone through with it. It did beg the question though… Why did she really want him to acknowledge her? Payback for ignoring her at Uncommon Grounds…or something else entirely?

  Not that any of it mattered. With work and school she had no time for a man in her life, and first thing tomorrow morning, before he woke, she was out of there, no matter what he thought he owed her, or how much he protested.

  Plan in place, she closed her eyes, wanting to get a few hours of sleep before she snuck out.

  “Layla.”

  “Yeah,” she said, and glanced at the clock. She’d only been asleep for an hour. What was going on, and where was she?

  “What did we have for dinner?”

  “Huh?” She blinked, and memories flooded her. She was in Parker’s house, his spare bedroom.

  “What did we have for dinner? I need to make sure you can answer.”

  “Oh, Chinese.”

  “Okay, go back to sleep.”

  She closed her eyes again, and a few hours later, Parker woke her up with more questions. This went on a few more times, but she needed him to sleep so she could sneak out. By the time she opened her eyes again, of her own accord—exhausted from being awakened so much—the morning light was slanting across the wall.

  Shit.

  She jackknifed up, and her head began spinning. “Damn,” she mumbled and slowly sank back down onto the pillow. As she lay there, the fresh aroma of coffee reached her nose. What the heck? Once the room righted itself, she angled her head to find the other side of the bed empty. She groaned. She much for sneaking out at the crack of dawn.

  “Everything okay?”

  Parker’s voice came from the other side of the room. She inched up and found him sitting in the chair he insisted on sleeping in last night.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting for you to wake up.”

  “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Not long.”

  “You’re kind of a creeper, Parker.” She adjusted her pillow, then pointed to the chair. “Wait, did you sleep there?” she asked, her voice sounding low and rough.

  “No.” He took a sip of coffee and gestured to the cup beside her.

  “Thanks.” With the blankets wrapped tightly around her legs—Parker must have fixed the bedding after he got up, otherwise they’d be at the foot of the bed—she adjusted herself, using slow, careful movements.

  Parker stood, crossed the room, and picked up her mug. As she read SKYWEB written on it, she exhaled a shallow breath and gave him a once-over, taking in his jeans and T-shirt. Damn, he was so handsome, and did those jeans have to hug him in all the right places? She liked the casual look on him, but where was his suit? It was a workday and no doubt he needed to get to the office, especially after missing most of yesterday.

  Once she was settled against the headboard, he handed her the steamy mug of coffee. She breathed in the heavenly scent of mocha, and his eyes narrowed, his gaze moving over her face in a careful assessment.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She plastered on a smile and ignored the pounding sensation at the back of her neck. “Fine. Perfect really,” she lied. “I could run a marathon.” Or not.

  He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “You should never play poker.”

  “Why not.”

  “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I don’t lie.” She took a sip of her coffee, wetting her parched throat. “Mmm, good.”

  “It’s not an Grande Americano, extra shot, but it will do the trick.”

  She blinked up at him. “I’ll make you one before you go to work.”

  He angled his head, confusion darkening his features. “How do you plan to do that?”

  She finger-combed her hair, trying to make herself somewhat presentable. “I have an early morning shift. Stop in before you go to work. I’ll whip one up for you.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” His shoulders tightened. “Haven’t we already talked about this?”

  He dropped to the edge of her mattress, and as it dipped, she leaned toward him, catching his scent. He breathed deeply, his nostrils flaring, his fingers curling at his sides.

  “You talked about this.” She poked his chest, but this time he grabbed her hand and flattened it against his muscles. The strong pounding of his heart beneath her palm did the strangest things to her body, like…fill it with arousal. “I didn’t agree,” she said, hoping her voice came out strong, instead of needy…the way she felt.

  “Layla—”

  “I have to work, Parker. If I don’t go in, I’ll get fired. If I get fired, I won’t be able to pay my winter tuition. If I don’t pay my tuition, I won’t graduate in April,” she said, laying it all out for him, and hoping it would get through his thick skull.
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  Another long pause, then he grabbed his cell from his back pocket. “What’s the number for Uncommon Grounds?”

  “Wait!” He ignored her. “What do you think you’re doing?” She scrambled to get up, but he placed a hand on her leg to still her. The heat from his fingers seeped under her skin, and as it worked its way through her body, she stopped moving, to concentrate on the sensations.

  Get it together.

  “Never mind. I’ll find it.”

  Flabbergasted as he pulled up a search engine and punched in Uncommon Grounds, she set her coffee down and grabbed for his phone. He moved it out of her reach, but when she went to stand, lightheadedness overcame her, and she sank back onto the comfy mattress. From the smirk on his face, he knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. Bastard. She was going to kill him.

  “What’s your boss’s name?”

  “Parker—”

  “Wow, same as mine,” he said.

  She folded her arms. The reason was twofold. One she was pissed off, and two she wanted to hide her arousal. “You’re not funny.”

  “I am on occasion.”

  She really was going to kill him. Poison in his coffee. Yeah, that ought to do it. And there wasn’t a jury in the country that would convict her.

  “Yes, can you connect me with the manager, please.”

  She stared at him, but he completely disregarded her. “You’re going to get me fired.”

  “Trust me, Layla.”

  Trust Him? Trust him? Yeah, right. She trusted him about as much as a cat trusted a damn rocking chair.

  “Yes, Mr. Davis. How are you today?” A pause and then. “I’m calling on behalf of Layla Fallon…” Wait, how did he know her last name? Oh right, he’d snooped at her hospital file. “Uh-huh, yes, and I’m calling to inform you that she won’t be in for the next few weeks.”

  Layla winced. She could hear Robert now, cursing and screaming and threatening to fire her, but Parker kept his cool. “Yes, I understand you’re short-staffed, and her job is replaceable, and she didn’t even call to say she wouldn’t be in this morning. But you need to understand this. She is the only one in Seattle who knows how to make a Grande Americano, extra shot, and if I can’t get the perfect cup of coffee every day, I’m pretty unbearable, and believe me, no one wants that.”

  Parker’s eyes met hers, and her pulse kicked up a notch. He gave her a grin, the gleam in his eyes turning wicked as he flashed perfect white teeth in a smile. She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away, everything about him holding her attention. A shiver skipped down her spine, and she pulled in a breath, working to ignore it.

  “Yes, yes, I understand,” he said, his muscles bunching as he switched his phone to his other ear. “Now you understand this. If you fire her, I will buy Uncommon Grounds and fire the entire staff, you included.” Another long pause and then, “Oh, yes, excuse me. My mistake. It’s Parker Braxton,” he said.

  Oh. My. God. Layla gripped the blankets, twisting them in her hand, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

  Parker walked to his window, drew back the curtains, and looked out. “Yes, of course. Thank you for your understanding. She’ll be back when she’s feeling better.” He turned to face her. “You have a good day, too.” He swiped his finger across the screen and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

  His expression was sober when he said, “Anything else?”

  She sat there blinking at him, trying to wrap her brain around what he’d just done. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “It’s taken care of. What else?”

  “I…I…have to pay my rent. It’s overdue,” she said, left with no choice but to disclose that embarrassing piece of information. “I can’t do that if I’m not working.”

  “Consider it taken care of—”

  “You are not paying my rent.”

  “You can’t work this week because of me. I’m paying your rent.”

  Her temper flared. What was the best kind of poison to hide in coffee?

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Did it really matter what she said. He seemed to have an answer to all her problems. Then again there was one he couldn’t solve. “I have classes. You can’t cancel them, and you can’t keep me here like a prisoner.” Yeah, that’s right. Go ahead, call the college, see what happens.

  “You’re not a prisoner. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll take you.”

  “I want to go to class tonight.”

  “Fine, consider it done.”

  Wait. What? He was going to take her to her classes? “Ahh,” she said, as things began to backfire. She waved her hand over his dress shirt. “I…I…can’t stay here, Parker. I don’t have any pajamas.”

  Weak, Layla, real weak.

  “You want to go shopping?”

  She didn’t have the money. But she wasn’t about to say that, because she didn’t want his pity.

  “I want my own clothes.” She drew her knees up to her chest, pulling the blankets with her to hide her bare legs…as well as other exposed parts of her body.

  “We’ll go get them, then.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. This was all coming at her so fast, her head was spinning, and this time she was sure it had nothing to do with the concussion. The bed beside her dipped, and her lids fluttered open to find Parker close.

  He touched her hair, ran a strand through his finger. Her toes curled, a reaction to his gentle touch. Overwhelmed with his closeness, she pressed harder against the wooden headboard, but he leaned toward her, his breath warm on her flesh. Shivery goose bumps formed in its wake.

  “I hit you with my damn car, Layla, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Her insides softened at the tenderness in his tone. Cripes, why did he make it so hard to stay mad at him? “One more night, Parker. That’s it.”

  “Fine.”

  “But what am I supposed to do with myself all day here if I’m not working?”

  “You said you had to study.”

  “I can’t study all day. I’ll go insane.”

  “What about painting? We can grab your supplies when we go get your clothes.”

  She made a noise, a half laugh, half moan. “Yeah, like I can paint here.” She waved her hand around. “This place is like a museum.”

  Hurt registered in his eyes. “You don’t like it here?”

  Shoot, she’d hurt his damn feelings. Who knew Stuck-Up-Suit even had feelings. “It’s not that. It’s just been professionally decorated, and I’m afraid to touch anything.”

  “Layla, you can touch anything you want.”

  The sudden image of her touching him, running her hands over his hard body, tracing his grooves and contours, raced through her thoughts. “Um, yeah, okay.” Her stomach took that moment to grumble, and she was grateful for the distraction.

  “What do you like to eat?” he asked.

  “Food.”

  He grinned. “Pancakes?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stood. “I’ll order in.”

  Order in? When he said he didn’t eat here often, he wasn’t kidding. “I can make some.”

  He reached the door, turned back to her, his eyes racing over her face. “You like to cook?”

  She nodded. “I did all the cooking at Grandmother’s. I actually do like it. I find it relaxing.” She laughed and added. “Gran had this old TV in her kitchen. I used to watch all the old, cheesy scary movies while I cooked.”

  He grinned and put his hands into his pockets, pulling his jeans lower on his hips. She tried not to look, she really did, but that would be like scraping the icing off a donut before she ate it. Not going to happen.

  “I never took you for the scary movie kind of girl.”

  “Put on Jaws, Scream, or any B-movie and I’m in.”

  He seemed to be thinking about that for a moment. “So, you cooked for your grandmother?”

  Jeez, he didn’t miss a thing. “Yeah, she rais
ed me, until…”

  He leaned against the doorframe and lifted his arms above his head, stretching out his muscles as he braced his hands on the archway. “Until what?”

  She toyed with the buttons on her shirt. “She went in to early dementia, then I took care of her.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, even though she had no idea why she was telling him any of this.

  “Where were your mom and dad?”

  “Not in the picture.” She pushed the blankets off. Wanting to get the conversation off her, she said, “About those pancakes.”

  He stood still for one moment, and she waited for him to press. When he didn’t, she gave a relieved sigh. She hated dredging up painful memories.

  “I’ll have to get groceries. I don’t have anything to make pancakes at the moment. I’ll order in for now, then get you everything you need so you can make them tomorrow morning.” Parker pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a number. He ordered from a local restaurant, then punched in another number.

  “Do I have time for a shower?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded, and she darted to the bathroom as he spoke. She rinsed quickly, wrapped herself in a big towel, and hurried back to her room. She dressed in a pair of jeans and pulled on a tank top, adjusting it over her lacy bra, one of the few things she splurged on.

  When she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, Parker had his back to her and was refreshing their coffee, while checking something on his tablet.

  “Shouldn’t you be in a suit?” she asked.

  Without bothering to turn he said, “Working from home today.”

  Son of a… She put her hands on her hips. “Why, you think I’m going to sneak out of here?”

  He slowly turned, and his eyes dropped from hers, to take in her tight tank top and jeans. Conflicting emotions passed across his face as his gaze shifted. His throat worked as he swallowed, and he seemed to be battling some internal war. God, when he looked at her like that…

  “Just working from home today, is all. Don’t read more in to it than there is.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she shot back. “It’s not like I still have a job I need to rush off to.”

  “It’ll be there when you’re ready to go back.” He stepped up to her, his body crowding hers, and her knees nearly went out from beneath her. Stormy eyes locked on hers, and she took in the hard set of his jaw. But it was the heat in his eyes that really threw her off. Honest to God, no man had ever looked at her the way he was looking at her right now. “If there is anything else you need me to take care of, just let me know,” he said, his voice so much deeper than before.