Page 253 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
This kind of shit won’t fly. I can’t do this.
I had to put a stop to this, before I lost all control. No matter how good what just happened felt, it was a mistake. This was not the way to transition into my new life stateside. I couldn’t betray the family that had shown me nothing but compassion. Such a fucking asshole.
I glanced at Emma, who had finally sat up and was straightening her skirt. She was so goddamn beautiful, so goddamn perfect, I wanted nothing more than to pick her up and carry her to my car, drive her home and keep her locked up there forever.
At least then she’d be out of danger.
I seized on that thought, focusing my mind with precision honed in the Special Forces. “Well,” I said, adopting a nonchalant tone. “You’ve had your fun. It’s time to get back to your day job and leave this spy business alone.”
Emma looked as if she didn’t understand. “What?”
“This stuff with Jansen. You should drop it. You’ve got enough on your plate, running this office.”
She slowly shook her head, a hint of hurt creeping into her eyes. “I don’t understand. I thought we were working together on this.”
“We’re not.” My tone brooked no argument. “You’re not an operative, Emma. Time to stop playing private detective.”
“Damn you,” she grumbled, fastening her bra and pulling her shirt on, then hopping off the table to stalk out of the conference room.
My chest began to ache, but I pushed through it. This was the right decision. She needed to be protected. And so did my heart.
It was clear that we couldn’t put our heads together on this Jansen thing, because our heads weren’t the only thing we put together. To resist her, I would have to keep her at arms’ length. And to keep my own sanity, I had to keep her safe.
I hated to hurt her, but I didn’t see any other option. I left the conference room and found my jacket. Then I stood beside the door, watching as Emma shakily shoved her things into her bag and shrugged into her coat.
She didn’t say a word to me as she exited, and I followed, waiting while she locked the door. It was dark, and I wouldn’t leave her to walk to her car alone. It was awkward, escorting her to her vehicle, the silence like a knife’s edge between us.
When she drove off, I headed to my own car and started for home. Another night spent alone, in a near-empty house that felt less like a home than a tent in the desert.
The next morning, I got a call from Dexter Jansen. It was the weekend, but that didn’t mean I was off duty, it appeared.
“I’ve got somewhere important to be today, and I want my security guy.”
My brow furrowed. “Back to the office?”
“No. Just get your ass over here.”
“My boss’s instructions state that you are to remain in your hotel room over the weekends.”
Jansen lost it. “You don’t fucking tell me what to do. I fucking tell you what to fucking do. If you don’t bring your sorry security ass over here within the next hour, you’ll be in breach of contract and I’ll call my lawyer and have him draw up papers to sue you AND your fucking boss.”
Jansen hung up, and I debated throwing the phone across the room. This job was turning into a pile of shit. Not to mention the circumstances surrounding it.
I couldn’t get Emma out of my head, not through my shower, in which I had to turn the knob all the way to cold to freeze out my erection at the thought of her. Not through breakfast, when I imagined waking up next to her and bringing her breakfast in bed. Not through the drive to Jansen’s hotel, when I remembered her tanned skin that seemed to have an inner glow.
When I knocked on his door, I received a yell from Jansen to let myself in. I held back a grumble while I pulled out the hotel keycard. Entering the suite, I immediately caught sight of Jansen sitting on the couch, his robe tied around his protruding gut. “About time,” he said, by way of acknowledging me.
He’d insisted I rush over here, and when I arrived, he wasn’t even ready to go. Without saying a word to him, I took a seat and stared off into the distance, trying to calm down. I wasn’t used to taking shit from anyone, let alone a puffed-up prick that I could drop with one punch.
It was another hour before Jansen stopped fiddling with his phone and got ready to leave. We left, stopping in the lobby so he could complain to the concierge about the quality of their orange juice. Finally, we made it to my car and headed out of the parking lot.
Jansen started giving me directions, and I assumed we were heading to some sort of business meeting. But we were nowhere near the manufacturing district. Maybe he had an appointment with someone else. A lawyer? An advertising firm?
Imagine my surprise when he directed me into the parking lot of the local shopping mall. “Park over there,” he said, pointing towards one of the entrances, the one flanked by posters for current film releases.
I parked, and Jansen got out. I followed as he entered the mall and headed up to the line outside the theater. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to get a handle on the rage I felt. This fucking asshole had called me in, on my day off, to take him to the fucking movie theater.
And the kicker was, the asshole didn’t even pay for my ticket.
