The Penthouse Pact Read online

  The air around them charged as sexual energy arced between them. She might be innocent when it came to sex—the antithesis of the type of woman normally found on his arm; yeah, she’d seen the tabloids—but she was well aware of the way he was gazing at her now. Well aware of the way her body reacted to him. Her mind raced back to the kiss they’d shared last night as his gaze tripped back up to settle on her mouth. Body humming, screaming for attention, she wet her lips, and what sounded like a curse rumbled in his throat.

  Her heart raced, the pulse at the base of her neck beating double time. “Parker,” she whispered as his head dipped, his lips so close to hers all she had to do was go up on her tippy toes if she wanted to kiss him, and she was pretty sure she did.

  “Just want to be here if you need anything, okay?” he said, the lust in his eyes awakening a deep-seated need in her.

  “Okay,” she breathed out on a whisper, as her chaotic thoughts settled on exactly what she needed. There was sexual heat between the two of them, enough to set off the damn fire alarm in his penthouse. So why shouldn’t she do something about it? Heck, without work, she had more time on her hands than ever. He might have ignored her before, but he was definitely showing interest now—and fighting it—probably because he feared she’d want love and romance from the renowned bachelor.

  She didn’t.

  Not by a long shot.

  But an experienced guy like Parker… Well, he’d be the perfect guy to take her virginity. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have sex or was saving herself. She’d just been so busy that the opportunity hadn’t presented itself. But it sure as hell was presenting itself now, and Lord knows she didn’t want a repeat of the fumbling incident with Jimmy. No, she wanted a man who knew what he was doing, knew his way around a woman’s body. And this guy, not only did he fit the bill, he aroused things in her that she’d never felt before.

  Seduce him.

  But I don’t know the first thing about seduction.

  It was true; she didn’t.

  Just then her phone pinged—Andi’s special ring. Layla hid a smile. Andi was with a different guy every week and knew all about seduction. She was just the girl to give Layla some pointers.

  Parker inched back, the moment between them broken. “You…ah…you going to get that?”

  “Yeah.”

  With his scent still swirling through her veins, she pulled her phone from her back pocket. Parker stepped away and reached into the cupboard for plates. She read the text.

  What the hell is going on? Robert said you wouldn’t be coming to work for a while.

  You remember Stuck-Up-Suit?

  Yeah.

  He hit me with his car yesterday and took me to the hospital.

  WTF and why am I just finding out about this now.

  I’m at his place. He insisted on taking care of me. I’m staying for one more night.

  Are you fucking kidding me?

  Nope, and he threatened to buy the coffee shop and fire Robert if he didn’t keep my position open.

  Holy shit.

  Yeah, I know.

  She stole a quick glance at Parker as he reached for silverware and divvied up the pancakes.

  He’s kind of nice.

  Yeah, yeah, he was pushy, bossy and arrogant, but he was kind of sweet, too.

  I always knew you had a thing for him.

  Okay, it was true, and she was finally admitting it to herself. She’d been crushing on him since the first time he’d stepped into her work.

  We shared a bed last night.

  WTF!!!!

  We didn’t have sex.

  Why the hell not?

  It didn’t come up.

  Ha! Then make it come up. And by it I mean his cock. Seduce his pants off.

  Layla stifled a laugh.

  How?

  Touch him a lot. Guys dig that shit. Better yet, tell him you’re a virgin. He’ll lose his fucking mind.

  I’m not telling him that.

  Stick out your boobs.

  She glanced down at her tank top and her practically non-existent breasts.

  I don’t think that will do the trick.

  Cook for him. The way into a man’s pants is through his stomach.

  I could do that.

  Although his cupboards and fridge seemed to be as bare as hers.

  And wear something slutty while you’re doing it.

  I don’t own anything slutty.

  Okay, gotta go before Robert catches me texting. Keep me posted.

  She powered down her phone and shoved it in her pocket.

  “Everything okay?” Parker asked.

  “Just Andi from work, wondering what was going on.”

  “Have a seat,” he said, pulling out the chair beside his.

  She lowered herself and looked at the stack on the plate before her. “Mmmm, pancakes.” She rubbed her stomach. “The perfect transport mechanism for syrup.”

  He laughed. “You really do like sweet things don’t you?”

  “Yup.” She drowned her breakfast in syrup and took a big bite. As she chewed, she thought about Andi’s advice. “Parker?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When was the last time you had a home-cooked meal?”

  “Don’t remember.”

  She touched his arm, and his muscles bunched. “I could cook for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said, his voice sounding gruffer than before.

  “What if I wanted to? It’s the least I can do to thank you for taking care of me.”

  “Thank me? You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t run you over.” He took a big sip of coffee but didn’t really answer her question.

  “Does it ever get lonely in this big old penthouse?”

  “I don’t spend a lot of time here.”

  “Is that why you don’t have any personal pictures?” She examined his walls. The ocean painting she’d recently completed would look great in his living room.

  “I guess.”

  “Do you have any personal pictures in your office?”

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I…” she began but closed her mouth when the doorbell rang. Parker wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood, and she glanced around the kitchen when he disappeared. Did he always eat at the island? Heck, if she had a gorgeous dining room like the one off the kitchen, she’d eat in there all the time. Then again, what fun was there in cooking a big meal and eating it all alone?

  “Good morning, Layla,” Gregory said as he came into the kitchen carrying a load of brown paper bags. Parker followed behind him with another load.

  “What’s all that?” she asked.

  “Food,” Parker said, as he dropped the bags onto the counter.

  “For who?”

  “You.”

  “Did you have the whole supermarket delivered?”

  “You said you liked to cook.” He shrugged. “I didn’t know what you liked to cook, so I got one of everything.”

  Even though she was touched by the gesture, she said, “You’re crazy, you know that.”

  A smile played on his lips. “Another name for the list.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, shoved a piece of pancake into her mouth, and then stood to root through the bags. As she pulled out fresh veggies and meat, meal ideas danced in her mind.

  “I’m only here for one more night. There’s enough food here for a week.”

  He shrugged.

  “Parker, I’m not staying any longer.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m going to need to go to my apartment to get a few things for tonight.”

  He dropped his fork. “Let’s go.”

  She put one hand on her hip. “I can take the bus.”

  “And I can drive you. The whole point of you staying another night is for me to watch over you. Do you really think I’m going to let you take the bus?”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Fine.”

  He grabbed his keys
and waved his hand toward the elevator. She stomped toward it and ignored his self-satisfied smirk. Thirty minutes later, Parker pulled into her driveway, and her stomach cramped. Her door was wide open. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She opened the passenger side door and jumped out, and Parker met her at the front of the vehicle.

  “Wait,” he said, putting her behind him when movement inside drew their focus.

  Had she been broken into?

  Just then her landlord came outside, and Parker stiffened. “It’s my landlord,” she said quickly, stepping out from behind Parker. “Ralph,” she began. “I know I’m late with the—”

  He held his hand up to cut her off, and her throat squeezed.

  Please God, don’t let him evict me

  “Main water line broke,” he said. “Most places on this street flooded. Happened late last night.”

  “Shit,” Parker said. “Good thing you were at my place.”

  “Yeah, getting hit by a car was way better than drowning,” she shot back.

  Ralph held up his keychain. “I had to use my key to let myself in when you didn’t answer.”

  “How much damage?” she asked.

  “See for yourself.”

  She stepped around her landlord, and Parker brought up the subject of her rent, that he’d be taking care of it—and yeah, she planned to pay back every cent one day—as she peeked inside. Lucky for her, the place came furnished, and she didn’t own much that could get damaged. Her artwork and supplies were on her table, high enough that they weren’t destroyed, and her textbooks were at Parker’s place—thank God, because no way could she afford to replace them.

  She turned back to her landlord, and he frowned. “Do you have anyplace to stay until we get this cleaned up? I need to replace the furniture, and it could be a few weeks before it’s all cleaned up and livable again.”

  Her mind raced. Andi had a small one-bedroom apartment, and currently one of their co-workers was sleeping on the sofa. She hated to impose, but what else could she do? She opened her mouth to speak, but Parker cut her off.

  “She’ll be staying with me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Parker sat on a bench outside the campus building and went over the spreadsheet he was working on while Layla attended her late-afternoon class. It had been a hell of a week with him and his team trying to get project costs down and still maintain the quality he wanted. No fucking way would he settle for anything less than a superior product. His clients deserved that.

  But it had been an even harder week hanging out at his apartment with Layla. When she wasn’t studying, she was walking through his rooms, examining and touching his things, and leaving her scent everywhere she went. Other times she hovered in his office, peering over his shoulder as he worked, her long hair tickling his neck as she glanced at his computer screen. It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself, and with her touching him all the time, it wasn’t helping his situation.

  He never should have admitted he liked her touch and should have gotten the damn contract drawn up right away. At least they stopped sharing a bed, her dizzy spells having lasted only twenty-four hours. One night was hard enough on him.

  She surprised him with a new meal every night—would never let him in to the kitchen to see what she was cooking—and today, whatever she had on the stove smelled so good he couldn’t wait to dig in. His stomach grumbled just thinking about the meal waiting for them after she finished her class.

  He lifted his head, and stretched out his tight neck muscles, the tension of the last week getting to him. That, and with Layla not working, he hadn’t had decent cup of coffee in far too long. Turning his head from left to right, he rubbed the muscles and tried to loosen them.

  A small hand landed on his shoulder. “You okay?” Layla asked.

  Her warm touch seeped under his skin and aroused him, but he quickly marshaled his cock. The last thing he wanted was to be walking through a crowd of students with the hard-on of all hard-ons.

  His stomach grumbled, but he was certain it wasn’t for food. “Hey, you’re out early.”

  “We just went over a few last-minute things before exams. Good thing, too. Sounds like you need to eat.”

  He closed his laptop and stood, then looked her over. “How are you feeling?” A week had gone by, and she hadn’t had any more dizzy spells, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t worried about her.

  “Better.”

  “No more headaches, nausea?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good,” he said, “But I’d still like you to stay at my place a little longer, just in case.”

  In case what? She might want to sleep with you?

  Shit.

  “Okay.”

  He nudged her. “When did you become so easy to get along with?”

  “I’ve always been easy, Parker.” She jabbed him. “You’re the one who’s been hard.”

  No. Fucking. Kidding.

  “Besides, I called my landlord today, and he said it’s going to be a few more weeks. I mean, if that’s okay with you?”

  “Yes,” he said. And even though he refused to examine it, he didn’t want her to go. Not yet.

  As a shiver moved through her, he looked at the sweater she had on. November was turning into December, and she didn’t own anything that was appropriate for the cooler weather. If only she’d let him buy her a new wardrobe, but stubborn woman that she was, she flat-out refused.

  “Come on, you’re freezing,” he said.

  “I’m okay.”

  He pulled his coat zipper up higher. “All right then, I’m freezing.”

  “You’re kind of a baby.”

  He glanced her way, and when he caught the bemused expression, he couldn’t help but laugh. He snaked his arm around her waist to keep her warm, and they walked a block to where he had his car parked. The doors clicked open at the press of his fob, but instead of climbing in, something across the street seemed to catch Layla’s attention. Before he could stop her, she darted between cars and stepped up to some homeless woman sitting on the cold ground, her back pressed against a brick building, an empty coffee cup in her hands.

  What the fuck was she doing?

  Parker drove his hands into his pockets and stomped across the street. He was about to call out to her when she spoke. His footsteps came to a resounding halt as her words pinged around in his brain like a runaway pinball.

  “I’m sorry I don’t have any tip money to give you today,” Layla said. “I haven’t been at work.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you’ve done enough as it is,” the woman said, and placed a gnarled and dirty hand on Layla’s cheek.

  “You’re eating, right?”

  The lady laughed. “You’re one to talk. You turn sideways, and you disappear.”

  Layla laughed with her. “I’ve got everything I need,” she said. “I’m staying with a guy who has a refrigerator full of food. I’ll be fat before you know it.”

  “Oh, a guy, huh?”

  “Yeah, he’s a real arrogant bully.”

  The woman smiled, showcasing broken teeth. “Sounds like you like him.”

  She chuckled softly. “Yeah, but don’t tell him that.”

  She likes me.

  Layla tucked the woman’s hair behind her ear. “You’re staying warm?”

  The thin woman rubbed her hand over the winter coat she had on. “Thanks to you.”

  “Okay. When I get back to work, I’ll be sure to save some more tip money for you, and maybe a couple of those éclairs you love so much.”

  “You’re too sweet.”

  “You take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Layla.”

  Layla stood and turned, a look of surprise registering on her face when she found him standing there, hovering close.

  “Parker,” she said. “Sorry, I just—”

  He pulled out his wallet, handed the lady a stack of bills to make up for Layla’s lost tips, then captured
Layla’s hand, giving it a good hard tug. “Come with me.” Instead of walking her back across the street to the car, he guided her down the sidewalk and headed for the shopping mall.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get you a coat.”

  She pulled her hand from his and dug in her heels. “Parker, no. I can buy my own jacket.”

  He grabbed a handful of his hair, expecting this fight. But as he took in the thinning of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes, it occurred to him that they weren’t so different. Neither one counted on family for anything, and they made it to where they were on their own. Sure he came from money, but he worked damn hard to get where he was at SKYWEB, and, well she was working damn hard, too.

  “Layla,” he began.

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips. Time to draw on his negotiation skills, as there was no way in hell they were getting in that car and going home without a winter coat for her. He looked up and down the street and considered his opponent, and what was important to her.

  “I want a painting.”

  Her head reared back. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. I want to commission one. That’s got to be worth thousands alone.”

  “I don’t know about—”

  “Do we have deal?”

  She pursed her lips, and he stood still, waiting her out. His gaze moved over her face, the strands of hair blowing across her cheek. He reached out and tucked it behind her ear, his gaze going to the hollow of her throat, the spot he ached to kiss. His fingers grazed her soft skin, lingered for a moment too long, and her gaze shot to his.

  “Say yes,” he said.

  He had to be a fucking masochist, because hearing “yes” on her lips would pretty much be the death of him.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, and it took every ounce of his restraint not to press his mouth to hers and lose himself in her sweetness.