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

“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.”

“And you have no other source of income?”

She blinked at him. “Of course not. I make my living working for you.”

“All right, then, I understand what you’re saying.” He reached for another sushi and gave her a wistful smile. “But I don’t have to like it.”

She sighed with relief. “I appreciate your respecting my concerns. I know you’re a man who gets and takes whatever he wants.”

His eyes flashed at that. “If I were, I would have taken what I wanted Saturday night. I wanted…” He closed his eyes in correction. “I want you.”

“I wanted you, too,” she admitted softly, resisting the urge to put it in the present tense. “But I want my job more.”

He took a bite of the sushi, still studying her intently. “It’s not the only administrative job in Miami, you know,” he finally said. “I could help you find another just as good if you really want… to remove that obstacle.”

The comment tore her in half. On one hand, the compliment ran deep. He really did want her—enough to try to help her past the hurdle that kept them apart. But on the other hand, she didn’t want to risk the search into her background, the hassle and worry of getting another job.

She’d landed this one with the help of a trustworthy friend, but what might get revealed if she hit the job market?

Still, it seemed like a magnanimous gesture on his part. “Would you do that just so we could sleep together?”

“Trust me, there’d be very little sleeping involved.” His smile was sinful.

“No.” She shook her head in determination. “I want to work for you. I want to stay where I am. I’m learning a lot.”

“You’re learning a lot,” he repeated slowly, the disappointment clear in his expression. “Well, if you change your mind…”

“You’ll be the first to know,” she assured him. “In the meantime, let’s stay focused on business.”

His smile was tight and forced, as if he didn’t like what he was hearing at all. Another compliment. “Yeah,” he said drily. “So you can learn more.”

He opened the drape with a slow swipe as the waiter approached with their dinner. When it was served, Anna felt the strain of silence.

“You know,” she said conversationally, “I was so busy this afternoon I forgot to check your calendar before I left. What’s on it tomorrow?”

As he took a sip of water and swallowed, she watched the wheels turning, probably visualizing his PDA screen.

“I have an early-morning meeting with some developers of that North Miami property I’ve had my eye on.”

“Really?” She tried to picture his calendar for herself. “I don’t remember arranging that.”

“You didn’t.” He studied his food intently, that stray lock falling on his forehead, tempting her to touch it. “I set it up myself.”

“Oh. So you won’t be in until, when? Ten?”

He gave her a quick look through his thick lashes. “Yep. Enough time for you to shower in peace.”

She laughed softly, grateful for his humor. He may like to be in charge, but Parker had another side to him. A side that was much more human and tender than a man like Michael Montgomery. A very attractive side.

He held a forkful of his roasted duck toward her. “Want to taste?”

It wasn’t entirely professional, and it wasn’t a move that “friends” made, but she couldn’t resist. She ate off his fork and the intimacy of the act pulled at her most feminine core, twisting a pang of arousal exactly the way his demanding kiss had.

As he held her gaze and fed her, she couldn’t help feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing to her insides. And he liked it. With Parker Garrison, knowledge was power.

Power she had no doubt he would use—and use creatively.

She knew she’d made the right decision, but she just couldn’t escape the sensation that she just might have made her life even more complicated.

Six

“You didn’t bring a picture?” Anna threw plenty of exasperation in her voice as she served a cup of coffee to the friend she hadn’t seen for far too long. “I don’t think I’ve seen a picture of your daughter since she was two.”

Megan Simmons tossed some wavy red curls over her shoulder and tucked her feet under herself as she got comfortable in Anna’s kitchen. “Well, Jade’s three and a half now and trust me, she’s gorgeous. She’ll be the first to tell you.”

Laughing, Anna bit back the next obvious question. Who does she look like? Megan had never revealed the father of her child and Anna respected that. Their friendship dated back to elementary school and one of the reasons it had lasted so long was that they knew when not to pass judgment on each other’s actions.

And they knew when to help each other. As Megan had four years ago, when she’d left her consulting job in Miami and returned to Indiana exactly at the time Anna had been up to her earlobes in false accusations. It was Megan’s connection with the director of human resources at Garrison, Inc. that had given Anna a much-needed escape, and because of Megan’s strong recommendation, she’d been able to get the job without the usual deep background check.

There were times when friends just didn’t ask, no matter how much they wanted to know. So, Anna brought the conversation back to the reason they had this unexpected Saturday morning to share some coffee and chat before Anna drove Megan to the airport. “So, how did the meeting go yesterday?”

Megan took a sip, her green eyes widening over the cup. “It was really an interview,” she said as she swallowed. “My former boss offered me a partnership in his design firm.”

“Wow, congratulations.” Anna lifted her coffee cup in a mock toast. “That’s wonderful, Megan.”

“Thanks. It sure is tempting.”

“I’d love it if you moved back here.”

Megan’s expression grew warm, but wary. “Yeah, it would be great to live near you again, but I don’t know.”

“You loved Miami when you lived here.”

“I know. But Jade has only ever known life in Indianapolis. And she’s starting preschool this fall.”

“The best time to move,” Anna said. “You can start her here. Garrison, Inc. donates to an excellent private preschool. I bet I could get Parker to pull some strings and get Jade in there.”

Megan pulled back, a little smile tugging at her lips. “Do you know that since I got here about twenty minutes ago, you’ve mentioned Parker Garrison about six times?”

Busted. “Have I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I did,” Megan said drily. “So I guess you’re enjoying your promotion from the humble HR department to the lofty executive suites.”

“It’s different up there,” Anna admitted. “It’s more exciting. And I’m so busy. It’s my whole life.”

“It’s your job,” Megan corrected gently, using a voice she probably used on Jade when the child wanted soda instead of milk. “And I didn’t say you mentioned Garrison, Inc. I said you mentioned your boss.”

“I guess I have. But he’s…” How could she possibly explain what it was like to work for someone like Parker?

“He’s a Garrison,” Megan said, rolling the name on her tongue as if it tasted bad.

“Yes, he is,” Anna agreed. “And he’s also…” She willed herself not to turn all dreamy and stupid. “Very…”

“Arrogant.”

“Well, sometimes. But he’s…”

“Demanding.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “He likes things his own way, but he can be…”

“A snake.”

Her jaw dropped. “No. I don’t think he’s a snake, Megan. He’s confident and a leader, he’s smart and he’s—”

“Flat-out gorgeous. They all are.” Megan took a deep drink then thunked the cup back on the table. “Don’t get sucked into it, Anna.”

“Sucked into what?”

Megan leaned on the table. “I’ve done enough work for the Garrisons to know what they’re made of.”

“You consulted, Megan, as the interior designer when they refurbished the Garrison, Inc. offices. You don’t really know them. It’s not the same as being in their face day after day.”

“Oh, I was in their face plenty,” she volleyed back, more blood deepening the delicate dusting of freckles across her nose. “Don’t forget what happened to you, Anna. You are a living example of what can happen to a woman who is wooed by a man who isn’t above using her,” Megan said.

“He hasn’t used me,” she said, defensiveness making her voice tighten as she stood. “And I already gave him the ‘we can only be friends’ speech this past week at dinner and he’s been nothing but business since then.”

“It’s gone that far? You had to give him that speech?”

“Not that far,” Anna mused, turning off the oven and taking a minute to refresh their cups. “We’ve only kissed. In London. That’s all, I swear.”

Megan held her cup for a refill. “Why?”

“Why was that all or why did we kiss?”

“Oh, I know why you kissed,” Megan said wryly. “You kissed because you were in a ridiculously romantic place and wildly attracted to each other and he whispered in your ear and you melted.”

Anna laughed as she put the coffeepot back and sat. “Oh, you think you know everything.”

“Not everything. But I know enough.”

The need to share the truth was powerful and if anyone would understand, Megan would. “We kissed because he told me he suspects there’s a spy in the company and I planted one on him to drag him away from that dangerous train of thought.”

“A spy?” Megan’s eyes popped. “No wonder you’re freaked.”

“Can you imagine if he found out that I was stupid enough to let my boyfriend infiltrate my boss’s computer system and steal technology secrets at my last job? And then got blamed for it?”

“You’d be okay,” Megan said. “I mean, you’ve been at Garrison for four years or so.”

“But now there’s the Internet. How long would it take before someone searched my name and found articles in the local Indianapolis papers accusing an administrative assistant of being a corporate spy?”

“You were innocent, Anna. Michael Montgomery finally admitted he did it.”

“Yes, I know that and you know that, and even my former boss knows that because the confession happened in the privacy of a conference room in Indianapolis.”

“Barry Lynch dropped all charges.”

She nodded. “Yes, he did. The boss dropped the charges and the boyfriend fled town and no one bothered to call the papers and inform them except me, and the reporter wasn’t interested. Called it an ‘old story.’ But my name is still media mud.”

Megan sighed, obviously unable to deny that. “Barry Lynch is still running FiberTech outside of Indy. Why don’t you call him and ask him to vouch for you?”

“I don’t want to dredge up old history. He was embarrassed by the lax security in his company, anyway. That’s why he didn’t tell the newspapers the truth.” Anna closed her eyes. “I want it all behind me.”

“I know you do.” Megan reached across the table and put her hand on Anna’s. “And I want you to be careful with Parker Garrison.”

Parker again. “Do you even know him, Megan?”

“I met all the Garrisons when I did the consulting job. Cheating runs in their genes.”

“Cheating?” Then Anna recalled the latest Garrison scandal. “I guess you’re right.” She rose and donned an oven mitt to slide the pastry tray out, and as she did, told Megan the whole story of Cassie Sinclair and her unlikely role at Garrison, Inc.

Megan listened, rapt, then asked, “So this woman over in Nassau is John Garrison’s illegitimate daughter?”

“Looks that way. And now she owns twenty percent of Garrison, Inc.”

Megan’s eyebrow notched. “At least he took care of his child.”

At the catch in her friend’s voice, Anna turned from the oven, pastry tray extended, but Megan hid her expression behind the coffee cup.

“Would you like a cinnamon roll?” Anna asked.

Megan put her cup down with a little too much force. “But you see what I mean?” she asked, obviously not hearing Anna’s question. “See what they’re made of? Gorgeous, yes, every last one of them. But can they be trusted? And you, after all you’ve been through, you have to trust the man you love, Anna.”

The tray slipped in Anna’s mitted hand, but she caught it.

Love. Whoa.

“This isn’t love,” she managed to say. “This is a pathetic crush on my part and lust on his.”

Megan’s chair scraped the tile as she stood. “You think? How’s he treated you since you gave him the speech?”

“Well, he’s had a lot of closed-door meetings and placed most of his own calls, so I thought he was trying to avoid me. But…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of how to explain what had been happening for the past five days. “But when we’re together, well, to be honest, there’s been a lot of electricity in the air.”

“Oh, really?” Megan meandered over to the counter to help herself to a cinnamon roll. “Like lightning bolts that turn your lower half into liquid and your brain to mush?”

“Yeah.” Anna half laughed.

“And every time your hands casually brush when you exchange papers, you sort of shiver and get all tingly?”

“Precisely.”

Megan took a bite of gooey pastry, nodding like a knowledgeable expert as she chewed. “And,” she added when she swallowed, pointing the roll at Anna, “when he laughs at something you said, the whole room sort of spins and your heart gets all fluttery and your arms get numb from the need to touch him?”

“Every time.”

Megan slid her finger along the top of the cinnamon roll, covering it with icing. “You’re in love,” she pronounced.

“No, I’m not. I’m just in big, fat trouble.”

Megan sucked the icing off her finger with a noisy smack and a knowing grin. “Same thing.”

The last thing Parker wanted to do on Sunday was trudge up to Bal Harbor for the weekly Garrison dinner. Not that driving Collins Avenue with the top of his BMW M3 down and his floorboard-rumbling stereo at full blast was exactly trudging, but he still would rather have spent the evening working on the endless pile of paper that seemed to accumulate on his desk that week.

Because, God knows, he hadn’t gotten anything of consequence accomplished at work since Monday. Unless playing games with Anna Cross was “work.”

He’d planted three separate false trails regarding business development, and not one of them had resulted in sending the Jefferieses on a wild-goose chase.

He’d tried to draw Anna out from her cloak of professionalism, teasing her with the occasional joke and letting the inevitable contact blister into heat between them. But that hadn’t accomplished anything except more than a few restless nights for him and a bad case of unrequited… arousal.

And that, he thought, popping out the classic-rock CD he’d been playing and searching his collection for something that suited his mood, was the problem.

She was getting to him.

Maybe it was her resistance to his obvious interest. Maybe it was the fact that he suspected her of spying and couldn’t seem to catch her. Maybe it was the memory of those few kisses, that promise of so much more in London.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the all-too-familiar southbound rush of blood reminding him that whatever the hell it was about Anna Cross, it had an undeniable effect on him.

No matter which way he cut it, rationalized it or ignored it, he still wanted her. A lot.

His fingers grazed the CD cases restlessly, skipping each one. If not rock or jazz or a decent piano concerto, what did he want to hear?

Broadway tunes.

“Oh, man.” He tapped the steering wheel and yanked left into the stone gates of the Garrison estate. “That’s bad, Garrison. That’s rock-bottom bad.”

He whipped into an open space behind Adam’s smaller model BMW and checked his rearview, raking his hands through his wind-whipped hair in self-disgust. Since when did he have the slightest interest in Rodgers and Hammerstein?

Since that little vixen hummed show tunes while she was filing. Off-key, no less. But when she tapped her toes to some ditty that ran through her head and the tip of her tongue sneaked out between her sweet, soft lips, the next thing he knew he had a sudden need to—

“Don’t worry, you’re perfect.” Brooke leaned over the passenger door of the convertible and offered her brother a friendly grin. “Making all the girls wild, as usual.”

He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m afraid it’s the other way around lately.”

That earned him a surprised lift of her shapely eyebrow. “Don’t tell me someone’s finally gotten under big, bad Parker’s skin.”

“Not a chance,” he assured her, popping out of the car and coming around to give her a hug. “But who are you sneaking around with these days?”

All the color drained from Brooke’s usually rosy cheeks. “What?” She half laughed and accepted his hug. “You must have me mixed up with my far more social twin.”

He released the embrace, but held her shoulders tightly and searched her face, a pang of guilt twisting through him. He’d promised Stephen he’d call her this week and he hadn’t even remembered. He’d been so caught up in… Anna.

“Are you okay?” he asked, unwilling to let go of her shoulders. “Stephen told me you’ve been pretty miserable since the whole Cassie Sinclair thing came out.”

Her eyes filled, but she blinked back the tears. “I’m having a hard time, Parker,” she replied. “What Dad did was, well, unforgivable. And to let us know like that. During the reading of his will.” She inched out of his grip with a shudder of anger.

He slid his arm around her as they crossed the brick driveway and approached the massive glass-and-mahogany entrance to the Spanish-style villa.

“I know how you feel,” Parker commiserated. “Mad and hurt and disillusioned. And, hell, we’re still in mourning.

I can’t believe I’m going to walk into this house and he isn’t going to be on the back veranda, drinking in the ocean view, ready to dissect every nuance of the past workweek and plan the attack for the next one.”

She raised her delicate jaw so the sunlight caught the dip of the Garrison cleft in her chin. “That’s your job now, Parker.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said, the weight of the “patriarch” role weighing heavy on his shoulders. “Those are big shoes to fill.”

“No problem,” she assured him with a gentle elbow to the ribs. “You’ve got big feet.”

Before they even reached the last of the wide stucco stairs that led to the entrance, the doors opened and Lisette Wilson, the real keeper of the Garrison house, appeared in her standard navy-and-white uniform, looking a bit older than her fifty-five years.

The loss of John Garrison had hit their longtime housekeeper hard, but Parker knew that something more than that was working on Lisette.

“Hello, Lisette,” he greeted her with a gentle hand to her shoulder, while she gave a nod to him and a peck on Brooke’s cheek. “How are you?” Parker asked.

She answered that with pursed lips feathered with a dozen tiny creases. “I’m fine, Mr. Parker, but I can’t say the same for your mother. The bottle has been open since eleven this morning.”

He felt his sister sink into him. “Oh,” Brooke said. “Thanks for the warning, Lisette.”

Behind the housekeeper, Adam strode into the oversize entryway, a frown on his angular face. “I’m leaving,” he said gruffly. “Sorry, but I’d rather be anywhere but here listening to her rant about Ava Sinclair.”

“Ava who?” Brooke asked. “Is that Cassie’s mother?”

“Yes,” Parker said. “Brandon Washington has been doing some digging. The woman, Dad’s, uh, friend, passed away about a month before he did.”