a long, hotly possessive kiss. Searing flashes of pleasure rocketed through her. Molten waves of desire overpowered surprise before it truly had time to register. His mouth pressed against hers in an absolute command that barely hid a trace of desperation. It was that desperation, more than the authority, that Brooke found herself responding to. The need to be needed was strong in her-she had always considered it her greatest weakness. And she was weak now, with the sharp scent of his skin in her senses, the dark taste of his mouth on her tongue, the feel of his shower-damp hair on her fingers.
Slowly, Parks drew away, waiting for her heavy lids to lift. Though his eyes never left hers, Brooke felt as though he looked at all of her once, thoroughly. 'I want you.' He said it calmly, though the fierce look was back on his face.
'I know.'
Parks ran a hand through her hair again, from the crown to the tips. 'I'm going to have you.' Steadying a bit, Brooke stepped out of his arms.
'That I don't know.'
Smiling, Parks continued to caress her hair. 'Don't you?'
'No,' Brooke returned with such firmness that Parks lifted a brow.
'Well,' he considered, 'I suppose it could be a very pleasant experience to convince you.'
Brooke tossed her head to free her hair of his seeking fingers. ' 'Why did you lie to Lee about our having plans tonight?'
'Because I'd spent nine long, hot innings thinking about making love to you.'
Again he said it calmly, with just a hint of a smile on his lips, but Brooke realized he was quite serious.
'Well, that's direct and to the point.'
'You prefer things that way, don't you?'
'Yes,' she agreed, settling back against the rail again. 'So let me do the same for you. We're going to be working together for several months on a very big project that involves a number of people. I'm very good at my job and I intend to see that you're very good at yours.'
'So?'
Her eyes flashed at his amused tone, but Brooke continued. 'So personal involvements interfere with professional judgment. As your director, I have no intention of becoming your lover, however briefly.'
'Briefly?' Parks repeated, studying her. 'Do you always anticipate the length of your relationships beforehand? I think,' he continued slowly, 'you're more of a romantic than that.'
'I don't care what you think,' she snapped, 'as long as you understand.'
'I understand,' Parks agreed, beginning to. 'You're evading the issue.'
'I certainly am not!' Temper flared, reflecting in her stance and her eyes as well as her voice. 'I'm telling you straight out that I'm not interested. If that bruises your ego, too bad.'
Parks grabbed her arm when she would have swept by him. 'You know,' he began in a careful tone that warned of simmering anger, 'you infuriate me. I can't remember the last time a woman affected me that way.'
'I'm not surprised.' Brooke jerked her arm out of his hold. 'You've been too busy devastating them with your charm.'
'And you're too worried about being dumped to have any kind of a relationship.'
She made a quick, involuntary sound, as if she'd been struck. Cheeks pale, eyes dark, she stared at him before she shoved him aside to race up the stairs.
Parks caught her before she'd made it halfway. Though he turned her back to face him firmly, his touch was gentle.
'Raw nerve?' he murmured, feeling both sympathy and guilt It wasn't often he lost control enough to say something he'd have to apologize for. Eyes dry and hurting, Brooke glared at him.
'I'm sorry.'
'Just let me go.'
'Brooke.' He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort, but knew she wouldn't accept it 'I am sorry. I don't make a habit of punching women.'
It wasn't charm, but sincerity. After a moment Brooke let out a long breath. 'All right. I usually take a punch better than that.'
' 'Can we take off the gloves-at least for the rest of the day?' How deep was the hurt? Parks wondered. And how long would it take to win her trust?
'Maybe,' Brooke returned cautiously. 'How about dinner?'' She responded to the smile before she realized it. 'My weakness.'
'We'll start there, men. How do you feel about tacos?'
She allowed him to take her hand. 'Who's buying?' They sat outdoors at a busy fast-food franchise with tiny metal tables and hard stools. Sounds of traffic and blaring car radios rolled over them. Brooke relaxed when she ate, Parks noted, wondering if she were consciously aware of the dropping of guards. He didn't think so. The relaxation was the same when she sat in an elegant restaurant with wine and exotic food as it was in a greasy little take-out with sloppy tacos and watered-down sodas in paper cups. After handing her another napkin, Parks decided to do some casual probing. 'Did you grow up in California?'
'No.' Brooke drew more soda through her straw. 'You did.'
'More or less.' Remembering how skilled she was in evading or changing the subject, Parks persisted. 'Why did you move to L.A.?'
'It's warm,' she said immediately. 'It's crowded.'
'But you live miles out of town in the middle of nowhere.'
'I like my privacy. How did your family feel about you choosing baseball over Parkinson Chemicals?'
He smiled a little, enjoying the battle for control. 'Stunned. Though I'd told them for years what I intended to do. My father thought, still thinks, it's a phase. What does your family think about you directing commercials?'
Brooke set down her cup. 'I don't have any family.' Something in her tone warned him this was a tender area. 'Where did you grow up?'
'Here and there.' Quickly, she began to stuff used napkins into the empty cups. Parks caught her hand before she could rise.
'Foster homes?'
Eyes darkening with anger, Brooke stared at him. 'Why are you pressing?'
'Because I want to know who you are,' he said softly. 'We could be friends before we're lovers.'
'Let go of my hand.'
Instead of obliging, Parks gave her a curious look. 'Do I make you nervous?'
'You make me furious,' she tossed back, evading one truth with another. 'I can't be around you for more than ten minutes without getting mad.'
Parks grinned. 'I know the feeling. Still, it's stimulating.'
'I don't want to be stimulated,' Brooke said evenly. 'I want to be comfortable.'
With a half laugh, Parks turned her hand over, brushing his lips lightly over the palm. 'I don't think so,' he murmured, watching her reaction over their joined hands. 'You're much too alive to settle for comfortable.'
'You don't know me.'
'Exactly my point.' He leaned a bit closer. 'Who are you?''
'What I've made myself.'
Parks nodded. 'I see a strong, independent woman with lots of drive and ambition. I also see a woman who chooses a quiet, isolated spot for her home, who knows how to laugh and mean it, who forgives just as quickly as she angers.' As he spoke Parks watched her brows lower. She wasn't angry now, but thoughtful and wary. He. felt a bit like a man trying to gain the confidence of a dove who might fly away at any time or choose to nestle in the palm of his hand. 'She interests me.'
After a moment, Brooke let out a long breath. Perhaps if she told him a little, she considered, he'd leave it at that. 'My mother wasn't married,' she began briskly. 'I'm told that after six months she got tired of lugging a baby around and dumped me on her sister. I don't remember a great deal about my aunt, I was six when she turned me over to social services. What I do remember is being hungry and not very warm. I went into my first foster home.' She shrugged then pushed away the debris mat littered the table. 'It wasn't too bad. I was there for little
