Flat-Out Sexy (23 page)

Tamara had seen the clip of Evan speaking, and she agreed with Beth. It had sounded a little rude, but she didn’t think it was that big of a deal. He was clearly elated from his victory, hot and sweaty, and being forced to answer questions before he could even have a drink or hit the bathroom. And when he’d realized how his response had sounded, he’d given a very respectful follow-up comment.

It hadn’t offended her in the least, but then she hadn’t lived her entire life active in the sport like Johnny had, where personalities clashed, tempers ran hot, and men died. As much as she loved racing, it wasn’t her career, her livelihood, her legacy.

“Evan did seem surprised that he’d passed Pete’s record. He didn’t seem to even know that until the reporter mentioned it,” Tamara commented.

“Well, he should have!” Johnny said, destroying his dinner roll by tearing chunks out of it and dunking them in gravy.

Clearly, there was no talking to Johnny until he had calmed down. Even Petey and Hunter were quiet as they ate, picking up on the fact that their grandfather was hopping mad.

“I’m sure he’ll apologize,” Beth said.

“I don’t want to see or hear anything from either of those Monroe boys. Ever.”

Tamara couldn’t swallow. All she needed was for her kids to find their voices and mention that Elec Monroe had been at their house for hours the Monday before.

But they must have figured out that mentioning a little fact like that might turn Grandpa’s anger on them, because they both sat with wide eyes and opened their mouths only to shovel more food in.

“And why do they all have names that start with an
E
anyway? It’s stupid. That Elliot’s an arrogant SOB.”

“Johnny.” His wife gave him a stern look. “Now there is no reason to be insulting the names that man gave his children. He can name his offspring whatever he wants, and I happen to think they all have attractive names. And watch the language in front of your grandchildren.”

That was enough for her father-in-law. He slapped his napkin down on the table and stood up. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me, Beth.”

Her mother-in-law watched him go then sighed. “Don’t mind him. It’s just days like this it hits him hard that Pete is gone forever.”

“I miss Daddy,” Hunter said, her eyes filled with tears.

Tamara thought it was probably just an emotional reaction to the tension at the table, and Hunter seeing her normally jovial grandfather cranky as hell, but she still had to deal with it.

“I know, baby girl, we all do,” she told her. “Come sit on Momma’s lap.”

Tamara rocked her daughter and wondered how she could possibly justify leaving the university the next day and speeding home to have a clandestine meeting with Elec, who her father-in-law deemed the enemy.

She should cancel.

It was all too damn complicated.

But somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to do that.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TAMARA popped a third breath mint into her mouth and wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her skirt. Elec was supposed to be there in ten minutes and she was nervous as hell. It was one thing to spontaneously have sex with him, it was another to know he was showing up at her house at one thirty for that precise reason.

Never in her life had she made these kind of plans and she was so worked up she actually inhaled the breath mint whole and started coughing. Where were they supposed to go when he got there? Was she supposed to offer him a drink? Lead him upstairs? Do it on the couch?

Glancing at the clock in her kitchen for the nineteenth time, she wondered if she had enough time for a shower. The car had been about ninety degrees when she’d left school and she felt hot and sweaty, especially in places she would really like him to linger. If she was self-conscious about perspiration, she wasn’t going to be able to enjoy herself.

So whether or not she had enough time, she really needed a shower.

Of course, if he arrived while she was in the shower, she wouldn’t hear him, and what if he left? That would seriously be horrible, after all this work and anxiety and desperate anticipation.

Running up the stairs, she debated putting a note for Elec on her unlocked front door, but dismissed that idea. Any crazy who happened onto her porch could just stroll on in then and murder her like poor Janet Leigh in
Psycho
. She would send him a text message instead and tell him to come in if she didn’t answer the door. That would work.

Texting while walking, Tamara started the shower and kicked off her shoes and skirt. After hitting Send, she tossed her phone on the bed and grabbed a towel. Cranking up her iPod in the speaker in her bedroom, hoping a little music would distract her from being nervous, she put her hair up in a knot and got in the shower.

She had five minutes to shave, buff, and refresh the hell out of her body, and maybe figure out how to extract her heart from her throat in the meantime.

It was a lot to ask of five minutes, hot water, and apricot shaving cream, but she was determined to try.

ELEC was nervous as hell as he strode onto Tamara’s front porch, feeling sort of like a kid cutting school. He even found himself glancing around at the neighbors’ houses to see if anyone was watching, but the street was sleepy and quiet at that time of day. There was one mother pushing a stroller and walking her dog, but she didn’t even glance his way.

He had gotten Tamara’s text so he knew he was supposed to walk on in, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do after that, nor did he understand why she couldn’t answer the door. For half a second he had thought that maybe Tamara had planned a seduction for him, and that he was going to wander through a house strewn with rose petals or something, and at the end of the line, Tamara would be waiting for him in sexy lingerie.

But the thought had barely popped into his mind when he dismissed it again. Rose petals, slinky underwear, and artful posing on the bed just weren’t Tamara.

He sent her a text that read, “Where are you?”

But after an agonizing minute or two, he had no reply, so he cautiously opened the front door and stepped into her foyer, listening for a clue as to where she was. Elec didn’t really hear much of anything, just a clock ticking and the air-conditioning humming. A quick stroll around the downstairs revealed nothing but empty rooms, so he sucked in a breath and started up the stairs, hoping this was what she wanted him to do. If not, next time she needed to give him better instructions.

There was music playing in what he knew was her bedroom, so he knocked on the door frame, even though the door was open. “Tamara?” he called, glancing in.

She wasn’t naked on the bed, which was a little disappointing. In fact, she wasn’t even in the room as far as he could tell. But when he leaned his head in, he realized her bathroom door was open and he could hear the shower running.

That realization produced an instant erection. Knowing she was ten feet away, with no doors or locks between, naked and wet in a steamy shower, made him appreciate how long it had actually been since they had last had sex.

Fourteen days. It had been two very long weeks, with one torturously pleasurable make-out session in the meantime. That was clearly way too long, because his body ached with want from head to goddamn toe.

And she was in for a surprise if she thought he was just going to sit down on her pretty little pink bedroom chair and wait for her to finish up. Yanking his T-shirt off over his head, Elec strode toward the bathroom. He was feeling a little dirty, and he was going to join her.

Her bathroom was like the rest of her house, clean and free of clutter, and he was downright thrilled to see that her shower wasn’t hidden by a curtain. It was just steamy glass doors, and while the view was a little distorted, it wasn’t by much. He could see Tamara in all her glory, perky little backside facing him as she … Oh my God. She bent over to grab her razor.

Elec’s vision blurred as every last drop of blood in his body rushed straight to his cock. Women just had absolutely no idea what that particular position did to a man. It made him a speechless, drooling mass of stupidity, and Elec demonstrated that very thing by standing there in the doorway and drinking in the sight of Tamara, water sluicing down her back, suds collecting on her breasts and nipples as she turned and let the stream hit her shoulder blades. Her skin was pink from the heat, wisps of her hair were curling damply on her cheeks, and she was humming along to the music. Her dark curls between her thighs were dripping water and he wanted more than anything to lean below her legs and capture those droplets into his mouth.

He really should warn her he was there.

In a minute or two.

For the moment, he was perfectly content to just watch her hands roaming around her slick body, washing and scrubbing with a foaming shower gel and a big puffy sponge.

KNOWING she had to be pushing her luck on time, Tamara wiped the steam off the door hoping to catch a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand in her bedroom. Elec was probably sitting in her family room …

Tamara let out a shriek when she realized that no, he wasn’t sitting on her sofa downstairs. He was standing in her freaking bathroom door three feet away from her, his chest bare, and his jeans riding low on his hips as he stared at her.

“What are you doing?” she said, covering her breasts with her arm. “You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry,” he said, but he didn’t look the least bit sorry. Nor did he leave.

Trying to figure out what was the best way to stand so he could see the absolute least of her possible under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, Tamara squeezed the life out of her sponge and wondered how she could miraculously wrap a towel around her without opening the shower door.

There was no way to camouflage any of her nudity, damn it, and she said, “Just give me a second. I’ll meet you downstairs in two minutes.”

“I’m not leaving,” he said. “And you have no reason to hide your body from me.”

“I’m not entitled to some modesty?” She glared at him through the steamy glass.

“No. And if it will make you more comfortable, I can get naked, too.” Without even waiting for an answer, Elec dropped his jeans to the floor.

Even as she swallowed a bucketful of spit and felt a surge of moisture between her thighs at the sight of him in his tight black boxer briefs, she was still annoyed. “It’s easy for you to get naked. You didn’t squeeze two babies out of your body and wind up with a stomach that has more lines than Charlotte has people.”

Elec was right in front of the shower and Tamara was starting to get a little scared as to what that meant. She pressed back against the tiles, wincing when her butt made contact with the cold ceramic. “You’re starting to make me mad,” she told him, but she was more nervous than angry.

He didn’t understand how hard it was to forget about those flaws, for her to appreciate the beauty of his hard, young body at the same time she was painfully aware of how many laps her own body had done around the track.

The shower door yanked open and Elec stood in front of her. “You’re making
me
mad.”

“What am I doing?” Sponge clutched in front of her jiggly stomach, she blinked as the water bounced off the side of her face.

Elec took the sponge out of her hand—just grabbed it—and tossed it on the floor of the shower.

“What the hell?” she demanded.

“Do you know how frustrating it is to me to hear you be so hard on yourself? To hear you criticize your body when there is absolutely nothing wrong with you? You have a gorgeous figure. You have a woman’s body, with a woman’s curves, and yes, you have a few stretch marks on your stomach, but do you honestly think that makes you one bit less attractive?” Elec’s voice was louder than she had ever heard him speak and he was ignoring the fact that he, too, was being pelted by shower spray, which bounced off his chest. She stared at him uncertainly as he lifted his knee and jabbed a finger at it. “I have a scar on my knee from surgery. It’s purple and raw and a good four inches long. Does that make me any less attractive when I’m naked? Did you even notice it until I pointed it out?”

Tamara glanced at the scar he was tapping. It was a significant scar, and no, she’d never noticed it. “No, I didn’t see it, but that’s because it’s on your knee. It’s not an erogenous zone. You can’t avoid my stretch marks.”

“The hell it isn’t. If you touch anything on me, it becomes an erogenous zone. Period. That’s how much I want you. You could touch my freaking eyebrow and I would get turned on. And I’ll have you know that I happen to like your stretch marks. I look at those and I’m reminded of what a good woman you are, how you sacrifice every day for your children.”

Tamara’s heart was racing, and she wanted to believe him, she did, but she had been too self-conscious for too long. The marks on her could be ignored, she could agree with that, but there was no way he could actually like them.

“You’re insane,” she said, because she really didn’t know what else to say and she wanted to get out of the shower and cover herself with the biggest towel known to man.