Wow. Maybe he was actually being serious for once...

"Plus, it's not some great sacrifice," he adds, chuckling as he holds the glass door open for me to walk through. "I can live without elevators. You didn't say I wasn't allowed to try and kiss you anywhere else."

There it is.

"Ugh!" An incredulous scream bursts from my mouth. "You are the most infuriating human I've ever met."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Thank you," he says, his voice somber as he trails me out onto the street. "I take that as a high compliment."

I groan.

He laughs and takes my hand again.

It's going to be a long day.

"Where are we going?" I ask for the thirtieth time. We're walking along the waterfront, still hand in hand - much to my annoyance. The winter wind whips at my face and I find myself wishing I'd brought a heavier jacket. My ankles have blisters from the shitty heels and my shoulder is aching from the weight of my laptop bag. I push the strap higher and sigh heavily as my feet wobble on the uneven cobblestone path.

Parker squeezes my hand. "I did offer to carry it for you," he reminds me.

It's true; he did offer. Twice.

I objected because I felt like being obstinate at the time. But that was ten blocks ago, when we were still in the Financial District and I was feeling high and mighty. Now, all I'm feeling is cold and I have the beginnings of a cramp in my side from lugging the heavy bag all this way.

I sigh again.

If I ask him to carry it, he will in a heartbeat.

I won't though - I'd rather suffer in silence than give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

Ass face.

"Want a piggy back ride?" he offers, dropping my hand and doubling over like a parent offering their six-year-old a lift. His eyebrows waggle in an obnoxiously cute way.

I roll my eyes and brush past him.

His long-legged strides catch up to mine in seconds. "Not even a smile. Jeeze. This is my best material."

"This is your best material?" I ask skeptically.

"I take it back - my best material involves a lot less talking and a lot fewer clothes." He winks.

I make fake gagging noises.

He bumps his shoulder into mine in retaliation. "If I were a lesser man, I'd be offended that you don't laugh at any of my jokes."

"Playboy, you don't seem to be offended by anything I say or do, so-"

My words are cut off by the sound of my phone buzzing noisily in the side pocket of my bag. I pull it out, glance at the screen, and frown when I see it's Luca calling. I don't want to ignore his call - he's insufferably overprotective about my "safety" - but I also don't want to talk to him while Parker West's side is fused against mine like superglue.

Just putting Luke and Parker in the same sentence makes me uncomfortable. I can't imagine what would happen if they were ever in the same room - the cage-fighting UFC-hopeful and the cavalier billionaire, breathing the same air.

Nothing good, probably.

"I'll call him back later," I mutter absentmindedly to myself, hitting a button to send the call to voicemail. Glancing up, I find Parker staring at me.

"Boyfriend?" His tone is light, but his eyes are sharp.

I shove the phone back into the side pocket. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes," he says immediately. "That's why I asked."

I roll my eyes. "Can we focus? You were supposed to take me to your house. Not for a stroll along the marina. It's pretty fucking cold out here, in case you haven't noticed."

"Hey, anytime you want to come a little closer, just say the word. You won't hear me objecting, darling."

"How thoughtful," I snap sarcastically.

He smirks as we round a bend in the path and I suck in a breath.

Twinkling white lights and red bows adorn every tree in the park. There's a man in a Santa hat collecting money for a local charity - every few seconds the sharp peal of his bell rings out, followed by his voice.

Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!

A family walks a few yards ahead of us, the little girl holding both her parents' hands. She looks up at them with pure love in her eyes as they pull her toward the nearby carousel, which is blaring holiday music from every speaker. All three of them are signing off-key.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

I drop my eyes and try to breathe through the stinging ache inside my chest.

"Seriously," I ask Parker when I think my emotions are under control. My voice cracks a bit, despite my efforts. "Are we getting close?"

I don't know how much more of this I can take.

He nods. "Yep."

"And?"

"Which part of yep did you not comprehend?"

I shoot him a look. "Just tell me where we're going."

"Sorry, I left your copy of the day's itinerary at home."

"I don't need an itinerary. I need basic facts."

"You are really fucking terrible at being spontaneous, you know that?"

"Spontaneity is irresponsible and overrated."

"It's also something else."

I raise my brows. "Reckless?"

"Fun." His eyes narrow. "You ever do anything just for fun, Zoe? Ever let those wheels in your head stop spinning for long enough to enjoy yourself?"

No.

I look away. "That's none of your business."

"Guess that's my answer."

I scowl. "I have fun."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks. "Doing what? Plotting world destruction? Overthrowing governments? Sabotaging corporate businessmen?"

"Maybe I find that stuff fun."

"Maybe." He pauses. "But I have a feeling you've never really had fun in your life."

I slam to a halt and, since our hands are still interlocked, he stops too. "You don't know anything about me! And, for your information, I have plenty of fun."

He looks skeptical.

"I..." I trail off. "I run. Three times a week. That's fun."

"Running isn't fun." Parker shakes his head. "It's a mandatory activity one partakes in so they can continue to eat copious amounts of tacos."

I smile, despite myself. "Well, I do other fun things." My mind spins as I try to think of something - anything - I do for pure enjoyment. "Like... I do graphic design on the side, sometimes."

"A useful skill," he says, looking unimpressed. "Not a fun one."

"Well..." I trail off again. I feel a humiliating blush creeping up onto my cheeks. "Just... Give me a minute, I'll think of something."

"Wow. You really don't do anything for fun." His voice is incredulous. "That's just sad, snookums. Pathetic."

"I do so!" I protest. "And I am not pathetic!"

"I didn't mean you were pathetic," he corrects softly, his eyes going gentle in a way that makes me nervous. "I meant it's a pathetic state of affairs that someone like you doesn't have a single moment of her day reserved for pure, unadulterated joy."

"Not all of us have time for hobbies, playboy." My voice may be a tiny bit defensive. Caustic, even.

He doesn't seem to notice. "We're about to make time."

"What?"

"Come on," he says, tugging me after him once more.

"Wait!" I drag my heels but it's no use. "Would you just stop! You promised you were taking me to the flash drive."

"I am," he calls over his shoulder, never breaking stride as he leads me off the path onto one of the marina docks jutting out over the water. "Two birds, one stone, darling."

I sigh. Fighting with him is exhausting - especially since he seems to enjoy it so much. Then again, I'd be lying if I said there isn't a certain amount of attraction - Shit, I mean amusement - in arguing with the man.

"Oh, cheer up." He slows his pace a bit until I've caught up. "Humor me with this one, tiny detour, and then you'll get your flash drive back and be rid of me forever, snookums."

I turn my head to glare at him.

"I mean Zoe," he corrects, grinning unabashedly. His cheeks are red from the cold. His eyes are gleaming again. He's annoyingly good-looking.

"Fine," I mutter because, honestly, it's easier to cave at this point.

He pumps a fist into the air, victorious, like he's Judd Freaking Nelson in The Breakfast Club.

"One tiny detour," I add in a threatening voice. "That's all I'm agreeing to."

"Of course," he agrees readily - he's so full of shit - before tugging my arm so I stumble into him. We collide, our interlocked hands trapped between our bodies, our sides pressed together as we walk along the dock.

It feels distinctly couple-esque.

Definitely crossing into PDA territory.

And yet... he's warm. Like a human space heater.

At least, that's the reason I give myself for staying close to him as we make our way down the docks. There are only a handful of boats in the harbor this time of year - it's too cold, even at the heated marina slips, for most to remain in the water. We eventually come to a stop at the end of the row, where a massive sailboat is docked. Its hull is starkly white in contrast to the lapping gray waves. It must be at least sixty feet long.

I eye the vessel warily. "Please tell me we're not going deep sea fishing."

He laughs. "You can't go deep sea fishing on a sailboat."

"I wouldn't know," I murmur. "I've never been on one."

"A sailboat?"

"Any boat."