Parker merged onto the interstate at the bottom of the canyon and became harder to keep track of. With the additional lanes, he had a lot more room on which to perfect the art of the weave. He passed several exits before he bid farewell to the freeway and took the off ramp on sixth south. We approached the first red light and Parker revved his engine and sped right through it leaving me stuck behind two other vehicles. I drove around for the next fifteen minutes, but I saw no sign of him anywhere. According to Audrey, Parker’s schedule dictated he would fly out that night which meant today was my last chance if I didn’t want to wait another week.
I rounded third south and caught a glimpse of a shiny yellow diamond in the rough stationed in front of The Rusty Nail, a new restaurant in town. I parked my car and waited. The restaurant door opened some fifty minutes later and a woman in a bohemian style cap and long hair in loose braids stepped out and out stepped Parker with her. Her arm was intertwined with his. She tilted her head back and laughed and then nuzzled into his shoulder. He lifted back a piece of her blond locks and whispered something in her ear. Halfway across the street blondie stumbled a bit. I wondered if it had to do with the ridiculous four inch wedge shoes she wore, or if happy hour was to blame. She reached out to open the car door and he yanked her back and then grabbed the handle himself and opened it for her. What a perfect gentleman. Before she entered the car he dipped her backward and planted an impassioned kiss on her lips. With her back arched and her right heel raised, it had all the makings of a Billy Wilder movie. Time to roll the credits.
Blondie drove by and I jotted down her license plate number. I started to enter it into my computer when Parker started his engine. I assumed he would head straight for the airport so it came as a surprise when he turned his car in the opposite direction. His next stop was the flower shop where he emerged with a bouquet of lilies. He threw them in the passenger seat and drove to the Lakewood Chateau Townhomes. The valet at the front took his keys and with flowers in hand, Parker headed inside.
I parked non-valet in the only parking spot I could find at the end of the street and went in after him. I managed to slide inside without much notice and saw Parker enter the men’s room. Now all I had to do was wait. I stood a few feet away and examined a brochure of the place until he exited.
Show time.
I crossed him diagonally and bumped him hard enough that the book and pen I carried fell from my hands and crashed onto the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
He bent down and grasped my pen while I went for my book.
Our eyes locked and he grinned.
“No need to apologize,” he said.
I took my pen from his hand and our eyes connected again. This time I held his gaze a bit longer and smiled a half-sweet, half-seductive smile.
“Well,” I said, “thanks again.”
I turned and started for the door.
“Wait just a minute,” he said.
Hook, line, and sinker. It was too easy.
“At least give me your name before you leave.”
“Alright then. It’s Sloane.”
He stuck out his free hand.
“Good to meet you Sloane, I’m Parker.”
“Nice flowers,” I said.
He scrutinized them for a moment like he forgot they were there.
“Oh these, I bought them for my mother,” he said. “It’s her birthday tonight.”
It sounded truthful enough, but his eyes told a different story.
“Well, Parker. Nice to meet you,” I said.
“You live around here?”
“Not too far,” I said.
“I haven’t seen you before. I’m sure I would have remembered.”
“Big city,” I said.
He shook his head.
“I meant here at Lakewood. Are you a resident?”
“Oh, right.” I said. “Not yet. I’m in the market though so I thought I’d check it out.”
“I see.”
“What about you, do you live here?” I said.
“Sometimes.”
“And other times?” I said.
“I have a house in Park City, but I travel a lot for work. My family has a private jet so I can’t complain.”
One would assume that line fascinated the ladies. A man with a house in Park City, a townhome on the side, a private jet, and a sports car that looked like a hornet. Most women would find him hard to resist. I wasn’t most women.
He looked at his watch.
“Would you recommend this place?” I said.
He nodded.
“My townhouse isn’t like the others you’ve probably seen. You can take a look at it if you like.”
“That’s nice of you, but I don’t want to––”
“I insist,” he said.
He glanced at his watch again.
“How about tomorrow?” he said.
“Sounds great.”
“I’m number 312. Does eleven o’clock work for you?”
I nodded.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I said. “Oh, and enjoy your mother’s birthday party.”
He picked a lily from the bouquet of flowers and extended it to me.
“I look forward to tomorrow.”
“Me too,” I said.
More than he knew.
CHAPTER 18
Parker had been so swept up in our tête-à-tête he failed to notice the bug I planted on him during my little mishap. Now I just needed it to pay off. I hoofed it through the parking garage and ensured his car remained in its space, and then waited for the fun to begin. I passed the time by running blondies plates. They belonged to one Zoey Kendrick with an address off 18th and Walnut in Sugarhouse.
There was a knock on Parker’s door, followed by the click-clack of heels. Blondie perhaps?
“I’ve missed you,” Parker said.
I wondered how much you could miss a person you spent time with a few hours earlier.
They shuffled around and then kissed.
“For you,” Parker said.
“They’re beautiful,” a woman’s voice said.
“And you’re even more beautiful.”
“Come, sit down,” he said. “Tell me about your life since I last saw you. I want to know everything.”
“I’ve been good.”
“Are you happy to see me?” he said.
“Of course.”
I wasn’t convinced. Something about the tone in her voice wasn’t right.
“Why don’t you lie down on the bed and let me give you a back rub, it will be just like old times.”
There was urgency in his voice and a sense of inquietude in hers.
“I’ve got something for you,” he said.
“The flowers were enough.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said.
She was silent.
“Take your clothes off,” he said.
The man wasted no time.
“But I thought…”
“Our dinner reservations aren’t for another hour,” he said. “That gives us plenty of time, and I don’t want to waste another minute of it.”
“You said we could take it slow.”
“There’s no need to play coy with me. I want you,” he said.
“Can’t we talk? I just got here.”
“Come on Daniela, please,” he said. “Don’t make me beg.”
Daniela? Unless blondie changed her name in the past few hours the proverbial poster boy of love lacked a faithful bone in his cheating, philandering body.
The bed creaked.
“Would you like to remove your clothes or should I do it for you?” he said.