International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 5

  I lead her to the building and open the door for her. I can hear Royce’s deep laughter and Ma’s higher-pitched laugh from the entrance.

  Pops has closed down the bar for the afternoon and night, which I know is a huge hit to the budget, but one he’d gladly take in order to have a family event with all the guys. Only downside is my brother, Paul, is still off on some secret mission with the government.

  The second we enter, my mother stands up from her place at a long line of tables they’d set up so we could all sit together in the center of the bar. Her arms open as she approaches.

  “Parker . . .”

  I let go of Sky long enough to embrace my ma and take in her familiar Obsession by Calvin Klein scent.

  “I’m so glad you’re home and safe.” She holds me close and then pulls back. “And now introduce me to your friend.”

  I loop my arm around Skyler, and she wraps one of hers around my waist. I can feel her fingers digging into my side.

  “Ma, this is Skyler. Skyler, my mother, Cathy.”

  “It’s good to meet you, Cathy.” Skyler holds out her hand.

  My mother pushes it aside and approaches Sky, so I have to let her go. “Oh, pishposh. We hug around here. Come here, sunshine.” She tugs Skyler into her arms.

  Skyler’s beaming smile over my mother’s shoulder melts my heart.

  Ma pulls back but cups Skyler’s face with one hand. “As golden as the sun. You know, you’re even prettier in person.” She pats Skyler’s cheek, and Sky lifts her hand up to hold my mother’s to her face.

  “Thank you,” she says, emotion coating her tone.

  Ma preens under Skyler’s look of awe.

  My mother has that effect on people. Everyone loves her, and she loves everyone. Unless they prove themselves unworthy. Then she can hold a wicked-mean grudge, but it’s hard to get to that place with her.

  “And who do we have here?” Ma gestures to Nate and Rachel.

  “Ma, this is Skyler’s security team and friends. Rachel and Nate Van Dyken.”

  “So fancy. Your own team.” She lifts her hands to her chest in a prayer gesture, smiling like a loon before shaking their hands. “Well, come on in, take a load off. I’ll have Randy get your drink orders.”

  “Thanks for welcoming us, ma’am,” Nate says.

  Ma turns around and heads to the table. “Such good manners.”

  “Hey!” the entire IG team, sans Wendy, hollers out to us.

  Royce stands, walks over to us, takes Skyler’s hand, and brings it up to his lips. “Nice to meet you, little lady.” His voice is a deep rumble.

  Sky grins wide and fans herself, looking at me. “Are all the people you know hot?”

  “No, just me,” Roy jokes.

  “Hey! I resent that.” Bo hops up from where he’s straddling a chair backward.

  He pulls Sky into a bear hug. “Hi, darlin’.”

  Sky returns his hug, much to my chagrin, and pats him on the back. “You over your jet lag?” she asks him, having just seen him last week in Copenhagen.

  “Nuthin’ a few nights’ sleep and a couple of rounds with a chicklet didn’t fix.” He waggles his brows.

  “What’s a chicklet?” Sky asks, and I place an arm around her shoulders and tug her away from our resident man whore.

  “Peaches, you don’t want to know.”

  “Peaches?” my mother gasps, obviously having heard my nickname for my girl. “So cute.” Her happiness practically pours off her in waves.

  I roll my eyes as I bring Sky over to my father, who’s busy lining up drinks for everyone.

  Pops wipes his hands on the towel he’s thrown over his shoulder and extends a hand out over the counter.

  “Skyler, happy to have you here at Lucky’s. Thanks for making the trek from New York.”

  Skyler shakes his hand. “Of course. Thanks for having me. I was looking forward to meeting Parker’s family and friends.”

  “What’ll ya have?” he asks.

  “Do you have cider?”

  “Sure do. Angry Orchard?”

  “Perfect, thank you.”

  My father smacks the bar top. “Comin’ right up. Go take a load off.”

  We sit across from Royce and Bo, Rachel and Nate to the side of Skyler, Ma and Pops at each end, fluttering around.

  The moment Pops sets down our drinks, the bar door opens.

  Nate and Rachel both stand up. Nate comes around the table, and Rachel stands in front of Skyler instantly. Both of them have serious “don’t mess with me” expressions on their faces.

  “Whoa, whoa!” I stand and grip Nate’s shoulder. “It’s Wendy and I’m assuming her boyfriend,” I tell him, and his shoulders ease down, but he still stands firm.

  “Hey, boss man!” Wendy flounces in, holding the hand of a tall man. He’s wearing dress slacks and an impeccably pressed dress shirt, no tie, and a fitted sweater over his shirt. The man has ash-blond hair and light eyes. He has every bit the “rich businessman on the weekend” vibe, though the woman whose hand he’s holding is his complete opposite. Wendy’s wearing red tights, a black-and-white houndstooth miniskirt, and a men’s-style white dress shirt tied at the waist. The front is open, revealing a red lace bra she means to show off. On her feet are black heeled combat boots. Her fiery-red hair is slicked to one side with a black plastic bow you’d see on a child. With Wendy, you never know what you’re going to get, but it’s always interesting, and she rocks it as though it’s the next haute couture.

  “Wendy. Glad you could make it.” I walk over and stand in front of her and her mate. I put my hand out. “Parker Ellis. I’m the boss.”

  “Michael Pritchard. Fiancé.”

  “Wendy . . .” I smile as she holds up her hand, showing me a big, honking ring.

  “He asked me to marry him! Can you believe it? Me!” Her entire being looks like she’s about to burst with joy.

  I chuckle, and she flies into my arms to hug me, bouncing as she does. Over my shoulder I can see her man does not like her hugging other men. His jaw firms, and his eyes narrow. Still, he doesn’t scare me. I could take him if we went head to head.

  “Of course I can believe it. You’re a catch, minxy.”

  She grins and pulls back. “Now, introduce me to your superstar girlfriend. And punch me if I go all fangirl.”

  “You put hands on my woman in anger, and you’ll be answering to me.” Michael wraps an arm around Wendy’s waist, bringing her back against his form.

  She smacks at his hand around her waist. “Oh, he’s kidding.” She snickers.

  “Not even a little,” Michael responds a tad threateningly.

  “Oh shush.” She kisses his cheek, which seems to appease him. His demeanor softens at the first touch of her lips against his skin. Wendy tries to look past me. “I want to meet Skyler!”

  “Come on over and meet the rest of the family, Michael.”

  We spend a few minutes introducing Wendy and Michael, sharing in their happy news as Pops gets the drinks. Everyone agrees to having pulled-pork sammies and fries along with some appetizers the cook planned for us. Rachel and Nate decline an alcoholic beverage, and my respect for them goes up another degree. They’re on the job even though Skyler repeatedly told them this is supposed to be fun time.

  Once the food is served and Ma and Pops are at their ends of the table, the real conversation starts.

  “Skyler, I’m dying to know what it’s like to be a celebrity. Is it awesome or what?” Wendy asks unabashedly while chomping on a fry.

  Skyler sips her cider and licks her lips. I want so badly to lick them for her, taste the apple cider on her pretty mouth for myself. Instead, I rub her thigh from hip to knee in a repeated pattern, which is probably soothing me more than her.

  “It has its advantages and disadvantages, I suppose, like any job.”

  “Yeah, like meeting amazing people and going to cool places.” Wendy’s eyes light up with interest.

  Sky smiles. “True and definitel
y a bonus. Though the lack of privacy is a constant battle.”

  My mother frowns. “Do you get a lot of people bugging you for autographs and the like?” she asks.

  “Sure. I don’t mind talking to fans. Usually they’re really respectful, want to tell me what their favorite movie of mine is, or get a signature. The paparazzi are the problem.”

  “Vultures,” Nate rumbles under his breath.

  “What are you working on now?” Pops asks.

  “Another in my Angel series.”

  “I love those movies! You’re such a badass in them!” Wendy gushes.

  Sky laughs. “Thank you. It is a lot of fun to do the action shots, and I try to learn the moves so I don’t need a stunt double too often.”

  “Cool . . . ,” Wendy gasps, and leans her cheek into her hand, her elbow braced on the table, focusing entirely on Skyler. My assistant is in complete awe of my girl, but she’s reining it in and keeping it together. Over time, I’m sure she’ll get past Sky’s celebrity and think of her as a friend. Hopefully. Sky could use some good friends, Tracey being the only one I know of.

  “It is cool.” Sky smiles.

  “And probably not hard to work with the hottie Rick Pettington.” Wendy fans her face. “That boy is hawt!”

  Michael tightens his arm around his woman’s shoulder; instinctively I grip Sky’s leg.

  Royce laughs into his fist. “Hoo-boy. And the daggers come out.”

  “He’s very nice to look at, yes. And he’s a friend,” Sky offers diplomatically.

  I jolt my head to the side to look more closely at my woman. “A friend? He’s upgraded to friend status?”

  Skyler sighs and pats my chest. “Yes. He’s always been a friend, but more so now. You can’t work sixteen-hour days with someone and not become close.”

  I frown. “How close we talkin’?” I growl, and the entire table laughs.

  “Put a lid on it, son,” Pops warns. “Girl has to work alongside a lot of nice-looking fellas in her business, I imagine.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ellis.” Sky beams at my dad.

  “You can call me Randy, darlin’, or Pops. Everyone does.”

  “I think I’ll be taking a visit to this set, make my presence known.” I nudge Sky’s temple and lay a kiss there.

  “Good idea. Keep a lock on what’s yours,” Michael affirms with a chin nod.

  Wendy rolls her eyes but snuggles closer to her man. He kisses the top of her head, runs his hand around her neck, and tugs on the padlock there. Her eyes dilate, and she sighs dreamily.

  “Really? You’ll come to the set?” Sky sits up, a hopeful, happy expression on her face.

  I cup her cheek. “If my coming to your work puts this kind of smile on your face, you bet your ass I’m coming for a visit.”

  She smiles super wide. “Awesome,” she says on a breathy whisper, and my dick is hardening rather painfully in my pants.

  I give her a few pecks on the lips, which has Ma, Wendy, and Rachel sighing and Bo and Roy gagging and throwing barbs.

  “Shut it! Just because the two of you haven’t gotten your heads outta your asses and found yourselves a good woman doesn’t mean you get to harp on me,” I fire off, not at all angry, just telling it like it is.

  “That’s exactly what it means, brother,” Royce pipes up.

  Bo tips his head back and laughs.

  “See what I have to put up with?” I pop a fry into my mouth.

  “Yeah, you’ve got it so bad. Great parents, an awesome assistant, brothers for partners. Let me cry you a river,” Sky says, pouting.

  “You’re on their side!” I fire back, laughing and tugging her closer.

  She chuckles. “No, pretty boy, I’m always on your side. Unless you’re being an ass. Then I’m on your brothers’ side.”

  I open my mouth to say something when Royce cuts me off.

  “Marry her, man.” He shakes his head. “Woman’s perfect.”

  “Totally, brother,” Bo adds.

  I nuzzle her neck and lay a few kisses there. “You are pretty perfect . . . for me.”

  Sky cups my chin and looks me straight in the eyes. Her gaze is piercing with intention and things to come later when we’re alone. “Don’t you forget it.”

  I rub her shoulder and bicep and grab for my beer while I stare across the table unseeingly. “Not a chance.”

  5

  “Then I want the models to gyrate their hips and give a little raunch . . .” The designer swirls his massive hips around in a disgusting move that makes me wince.

  I rub my hand over the back of my neck.

  “Dude . . .” Bo shakes his head. “Not sexy. Not to anyone.”

  We arrived in Milan two days ago, and since then, it’s been a massive exercise in patience. The designer, T-Bone—like the steak, which is exactly how he introduced himself—has been trying, to say the least.

  “Mr. T-Bone. You want to sell this line to women all over the world. Career women, stay-at-home moms, women in their twenties . . .”

  “Of all shapes and sizes. Yes. Women should be celebrated!” The guy’s voice is gratingly high for such a rotund man. Almost feminine. If I didn’t see him eyeing the women like his next meal, I’d have pegged him as swinging the other way. He’s as short as he is wide, with pale-white skin, a double chin, and receding hair.

  For some reason, though, his designs are speaking to women everywhere, making T-Bone one of the top new designers of the year. I will admit, the lingerie is incredibly inventive and considerate of a woman’s shape. There’re tucks, ruffles, bows, and ruches in all the right places to make every body look spectacular. It’s the things he wants the women to do when they’re on the runway that have Bo and me up in arms.

  “I agree. All women should feel good about themselves. Especially in the bedroom with their man. However, the average woman—hell, any woman—is not going to want to stop at the end of a runway, swirl her hips, turn around, and bend over, giving the audience a view of her lady bits.”

  T-Bone cringes, flails his hands wildly in the air, and slams them down at his side. “And why the hell not!”

  I do my damned best not to roll my eyes and bite out how insufferable his requests are.

  Bo jumps in when he notices I’m having a hard time expressing what I need to say without losing my cool.

  He loops an arm around the man’s shoulders and walks him over to one of the soccer moms, Marta, who’s holding her arms across her scantily covered breasts.

  “Marta, how do you feel in the lingerie you’re wearing?”

  She kicks a shoulder up toward her ear, then looks to the side. “A little uncertain. I’m pretty exposed under all these lights.”

  T-Bone frowns. “You do not feel beautiful? You look absolutely fuckable.”

  The comment causes Marta to hug herself even more awkwardly.

  Bo lets out a long sigh. “Marta, honey, would you feel more comfortable if the lights were low and you were being viewed in candlelight?”

  Her eyes light up, and she nods quickly.

  “And how about a sexy robe? Perhaps one of the shimmering ones you can slip off at the end of a runway for a quick peekaboo under flashing lights instead of the lights holding bright and steady on your form?”

  “Oh my, that sounds lovely. I think I could walk in front of an audience then.”

  Bo grins widely and walks to the next woman. She’s in a cutout bra camisole, which is completely see-through at the nipples and flows down in shimmery multicolored fabric over the belly, hiding any tummy problems. A pair of boy shorts, which are see-through at the ass with matching multicolored fabric over the pubic bone, finishes the outfit. This lavender piece basically shows the parts of a woman she often likes about herself while hiding some of the problem areas for certain women. Especially those with looser skin around the middle who have had children.

  “Bianca, is it?”

  The woman nods with her arm over her breasts, hiding her nipples. She’s biting i
nto her lip so much the damn thing is now swollen. I can clearly see she’s terrified.

  “How do you feel in what you’re wearing, Bianca?”

  She swallows and looks at the floor, her eyes glassy. “Exposed.”

  “Do you like the way your chest and bum look in the outfit, darlin’?”

  Bianca shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  “You look absolutely stunning. Though I imagine you’re used to wearing this kind of thing in front of your husband and only him?”

  She nods, and a tear falls down her face.

  “Why are you doing this, sweetheart?” Bo’s tone is soothing. He has an uncanny ability in calming women. Part of why he has so many chicklets.

  “Because we need the money, and this pays a lot.” Bianca’s voice shudders and slips away after her admission.

  T-Bone gasps. “You’re not doing my show because you feel empowered sexually?” His tone is horrified. Apparently he’s starting to see he’s doing the exact opposite of what he set out to do, which is empower women, not demean them.

  Bianca shakes her head but doesn’t say anything.

  “What if you were led out on stage by your husband, who would be wearing a pair of matching men’s pajamas, and he gives you a sultry kiss at the end of the runway?” I suggest.

  Her entire face lights up. “That would be so fun! We could do it together!” She beams with sudden excitement.

  “Men’s matching pajamas. Genius!” T-Bone says.

  He looks down the line at the women in various stages of undress, a thoughtful expression marring his features.

  “How many of you would like to walk the runway with your partner?” I ask.

  All the women with partners raise their hands.

  “How many of you would like the stage lights set lower?”

  This time, every hand goes up.

  T-Bone walks up and down the line, looking at his lingerie and the models he’s chosen. None of them have ever modeled before, which is another task Bo and I have this week. These are real women. Skinny, average, above average in weight, all the way to plus-size. They come from all walks of life. Mothers. Teachers. College students. Waitresses. All hand chosen by friends and family of the designer and through word of mouth. Now that they’re all here, it’s clear this idea needs to be fleshed out even more. These women were frightened to walk a runway wearing sexy lingerie, but after speaking to several of them, the consensus is they couldn’t pass up the payout.