I could almost see the words floating around in her head, dancing on the tip of that sweet tongue. I wanted to suck it off, lick into her mouth and taste her anger. Jesus, I was hard. Fucking turned on, panting. Her mouth would be pillow soft, her rage hard and swift.

When I noticed she was panting too, my arms jerked. I clenched my fist to keep from reaching for her. But it hurt to hold back.

A sound escaped her. Not a whimper but something close. Needy. Confused.

I’ll make it better, honey.

I took a step closer. She smelled so good. Looked so fine.

But we were interrupted again.

“Parker?” A man this time.

Seriously, fuck this party.

If Parker had been panicked before, she appeared downright appalled now. Her mouth fell open in horror, as we turned in unison toward the man standing a few feet away. Salt-and-pepper hair, steel-rimmed glasses, tailored gray slacks and an ivory silk shirt. He looked like a New Yorker slumming it for the weekend.

Parker had his eyes. I didn’t know why I noticed. But I did. And I knew exactly who he was. They shared the same smile too.

Parker’s voice came out in a strangled squeak. “Dad.”

Here we go …

* * *

Parker’s dad smiled. “Peanut.”

“Peanut?” I whispered to Parker, expecting a glare or maybe an elbow to the gut. She remained stone still.

Her dad leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Parker swallowed audibly. “I was thinking the same thing.”

He was a few inches taller than she was, but wiry where Parker was delicate.

Unlike Vida, Parker’s dad immediately zeroed in on me and thrust out a hand to shake. “Charles Brown. No relation to the little bald guy, I’m afraid.”

Charles Brown? Realization hit, and I grinned as I shook his hand. “I take it you don’t go by Charlie?”

He laughed shortly. “Not if I can help it. Childhood was enough hell for me.”

Despite his easy-going manner, power flowed off Charles Brown. Some guys thought they had to be biggest or the tallest guy in the room to be the strongest. That was bullshit. Physical strength rarely mattered as much as mental toughness and confidence.

Brown was the rare sort who knew he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He was comfortable in his own skin. I admired the hell out of that. And the way he put a protective, affectionate arm around his daughter. Not so much a claiming but letting her know she was loved.

“Rhys Morgan,” I filled in when Parker stayed quiet. The lights were on in Parker House but she’d clearly left the building. “I’m a friend of Parker’s.”

I had no idea what she wanted me to say in this situation. Did we lie to her family?