weekly gossip rag from Miller’s hand and held it a bit away from her so she could see whatever it was he was trying to show her. To her utter surprise, Parker was staring back at her from the cover.
“Oh my God!” she echoed, slumping back down on the couch. Parker wasn’t gay. He was famous.
“Is it him?” MeShell demanded. “Is this the same guy you were with?”
In the photo, Parker’s hair was shorter and his eyes didn’t have the same glow to them as they did earlier this evening, but there was no denying who he was. “One and the same.”
“Parker Maguire and my best friend. Oh my.” Miller seemed as dazed as she felt.
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“It’s him, but I still don’t know who he is. Should I?” This only proved it. She needed to get out more.
“Yes,” MeShell and Miller parroted.
“Is he an actor or something?”
“No, honey, he’s the Prince.” MeShell retorted, as if she should’ve known what that meant.
“He’s a prince?” Now she was even more confused.
“No, girl. That’s what they call him. The Prince. He’s Hollywood royalty. His dad is a director, his mother was on one of those nighttime soaps, and he’s a movie producer.”
MeShell placed her hand over her chest and took a deep breath. She was more frazzled than Cyn. “Did you really have no idea?”
“Not a clue.” Cyn felt like the world’s biggest idiot. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t eating Top Ramen for dinner every night, but I had no idea he was Richie Rich.”
“He could kick Richie Rich’s ass, girl.”
Unlike MeShell, Miller focused on what mattered the most. “Are you going to call him?”
Now that was the million dollar question. “I have no idea.”
Parker was not a happy camper. Standing at his office window, he scowled at the Hollywood sign in the far distance, and pondered, not for the first time, why Cyn had yet to contact him. The question plagued him like no other.
They’d had a good time. Or so he thought. Parker could only speak for himself, but the short time he’d spent with her Saturday left him hungry for more. And not just in a sexual way. Sure there was that, but Parker wanted to get to know Cyn better. He wanted to see her smile again, to hear her laugh. Hell, right now he’d be happy just to find out her last name. Parker didn’t think he was asking for much.
The way she’d rushed off Saturday left a lot of questions unanswered in his mind. He could kick himself for letting Cyn leave without getting her phone number. The worst 30
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part was the not knowing. And man was there a lot he didn’t know. From her last name to her phone number to the down low on the man she left him to be with. Who was this Miller and how important was he to Cyn?
Damn it all to hell! Parker ran his hand through his hair in frustration. If he had to take San Francisco apart with his bare hands, he would find Cyn. No matter how long it took.
“I take it from your frown your new venture in Frisco isn’t going as well as you hoped.”
Parker glanced toward the open doorway of his office at his friend and partner, Solomon Carnell, and frowned at the intruding brunet. He was already in a bad mood and the last thing he needed was to be poked at by his well-meaning friend. Solomon had been against the club investment from the beginning, now he was just waiting for the opportune moment to supply the requisite “I told you so”.
“When did you get back?” Parker asked, ignoring his friend’s question for the moment.
“This morning.” Solomon strolled into the room, and headed straight for the mini fridge in the corner. After extracting a beer, he sat in the black leather chair across from Parker’s own and kicked his feet up on the polished marble desk. Even though Solomon had an office of his own just a few doors down, he spent most of his time in Parker’s. It was easier for him to annoy Parker that way. “But you