Flat-Out Sexy (35 page)

TAMARA debated knocking on the hotel door or just using her key, then decided she didn’t want to wind up standing awkwardly in the doorway having this conversation if he opened the door and didn’t invite her in. So she slid her key in and opened the hotel door.

Elec was sitting propped up on the bed with his shirt off, wearing his boxer shorts and a vacant look as he stared at the TV. His head swung over to her when she stepped inside.

“Hey,” she said, tucking her hair back nervously.

“Hey. Did you come to get your stuff?” he asked, his voice stiff. “I packed everything up for you.”

Her heart squeezed. “Honey, you shouldn’t be bending over like that.” Unable to resist, she went over to the bed and pushed his hair back off his forehead. “Did they give you pain medication? You look ashen.”

“It’s not really my ribs that are bothering me,” he said, and the look he gave her was so hurt and so full of meaning that Tamara knew she needed to resolve this before she worried about his health.

“Elec, God, I’m so sorry about earlier. I just absolutely panicked when I saw your car roll. That was one of the worst moments of my life, and Hunter was screaming, and it just scared the daylights out of me.” She took a deep breath as she stood in front of him. “But the thing is I realized walking out of that room like that was the last thing in the world I wanted. I don’t like the fear, but living with fear is so much better than living without you.”

He just stared at her. Finally he said, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That you do want to be together?”

Tamara nodded, tears in her eyes. Lord, if she cried any more, she was going to dehydrate. “Yes. I absolutely would be honored to be your wife if you’ll still have me.”

Elec’s jaw worked. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes. I love you. I love the way you love me, the way you love your family, the way you love my children. I love the way you live your life with integrity. I know you’re a driver, that’s who you are, and I love the sport, too. I’m prepared to deal with all that it brings so that we can be together.” She meant every word of that. She wanted nothing more than to share her life with Elec.

Elec listened to Tamara and felt the biggest sense of relief, coupled with joy, that he had ever known. He had been sitting in the goddamn hotel room staring at the TV and wondering how he was supposed to move on from a hit so hard it had knocked the wind out of him. He had felt like he’d come so close to having everything he’d ever wanted in his entire life and had watched it get yanked away.

To have it back, to look into her eyes, and see she meant it, had him reaching for her. He needed to feel her, touch her, and he took her hand. “
Yes
, I absolutely want you to be my wife. God, I thought I couldn’t feel any worse than when you called things off this afternoon. I want to be with you, to love you, to build a life and a family with you and the kids.”

“Really?” she said, climbing up onto the bed so she could slide in next to him.

“Really.” Elec kissed her, ignoring the way his ribs screamed in protest. Tamara was going to be his wife and he wanted to kiss her, injury or not.

He poured all of his love, all of his happiness, into that kiss, and she responded in kind, sighing against him.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you, too.”

“And I’m glad you said yes because I was going to have a hard time explaining this to the world if you said no.” Tamara held up her wrist and turned it so he could see the inside of it.

It was a tattoo, just like his: 56. Elec lightly touched the brand-new, red, and raw tattoo. “You got my car number?” He was amazed she would do that. Thrilled. It screamed permanency and commitment to him and he loved the sound of that.

“Yes. I have to keep Briggs as a last name because of the kids, so I’ll be Tamara Briggs-Monroe. But I wanted a way to show you I love you and back you one hundred percent. That I’m Elec Monroe’s wife.” She crossed her wrist over his. “And I got the left hand so that when we hold hands, the numbers align.”

He could honestly say that having his car number tattooed on Tamara was the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life. “My number looks damn good on you.”

She laughed and snuggled against him carefully, obviously trying not to jar his ribs. “I never saw myself as one to get a tattoo, but it seemed right. And I want you to know that we’ll resolve all this business with Crystal. It won’t be a big deal.”

“Thank you.” He kissed her temple. “So about that ring shopping? You busy tomorrow?” Now that she was on board, he was slapping a ring on her finger, pronto.

“Not busy at all. Though you should rest.”

“The hell I should.” Elec took her hand and put it on his erection. “I was sitting here thinking how we can do it with the least movement possible.”

Tamara laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No. Turned on and in love.” He grinned at her.

She smiled back. “Me, too. And I like it.”

EPILOGUE

IMOGEN Wilson could honestly say she’d never been to a wedding in Manhattan where the groom arrived in a decaled race car. But she was in Charlotte now, and no one had seemed to blink when Elec Monroe had slid out of the window of his car in his tux at the church.

Nor did anyone seem to think it was strange that the car had been driven to the outdoor reception location and the entire wedding party was having pictures taken in the car, on the car, and around the car. Tamara’s daughter Hunter was standing on the hood in her satin and chiffon red flower girl dress, posing first demurely, then using her floral bouquet like it was a guitar. Elec jumped up on the hood with her and picked her up and held her over his head like she was a trophy while she shrieked with laughter.

Imogen thought it was great to attend a wedding where everyone was having fun, no one was stressed out, and the bride and groom were beaming with pleasure. Most weddings in her opinion tended to be uptight and overplanned. Tamara and Elec’s wedding was more like a big party.

Not that Imogen was partying. She was standing next to the tent pole watching the picture taking and sipping from a glass of champagne. She didn’t know a lot of people at the wedding and she was relegated to either chatting up strangers or just watching, and for the moment she was content to just watch. Tamara’s son Petey was standing in his tux holding an empty glass under the stream of the flowing chocolate fountain, and Imogen grinned when he looked up, spotted her, and put his fingers to his lips to indicate he didn’t want her to tell anyone. She gave him the thumbs-up to let him know she wouldn’t rat him out.

Though she suspected no one would care. It was a go-with-the-flow day, a celebration of Tamara and Elec’s love and marriage.

The photographer was taking shots of the newlyweds’ matching tattoos when Imogen realized someone was standing directly behind her. She turned and saw it was Ty McCordle. Her heart immediately started to race, and she was annoyed by the reaction. There was truly no reason for her sizzling sexual attraction to him. Granted, he was good-looking, but beyond that, they couldn’t possibly have anything in common. Yet she was decidedly aware of the desire to see him naked.

“Hey, Emma Jean,” he said with a grin.

“Hi,” she said, not sure if he was calling her that to tease her or if he really couldn’t remember her name. “Shouldn’t you be in the pictures?”

Ty was pulling his tie off. “I’ve been released. They’re doing solo and family shots now, thank God. Now I can grab a beer and some food. I’m starving.”

She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that, or if he really required a response, so she just said, “Elec and Tamara seem really happy.”

He nodded. “Some people are the marrying kind, others aren’t. Those two will have a good long run, no doubt.” Then he glanced over at her and grinned. “What about you, Emma Jean? You the marrying kind?”

Like he was actually interested in her response. But she answered truthfully. “I don’t know. As of right now, I haven’t met anyone I’d be interested in being married to, but that doesn’t mean I’m opposed to it.”

“I should have known you’d give a careful answer.”

Imogen frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

Ty added, “Me, I’m not ever getting married.”

“For which your future ex-wife is grateful,” she said before she could stop herself.

He laughed loudly. “No doubt.”

Imogen spotted a thin, surgically enhanced blonde waving and pouting when she couldn’t get Ty’s attention. “I think your girlfriend wants you.”

Ty flicked a casual wave in the girl’s direction. “
Girlfriend
is too strong of a word for Nikki.”

Imogen thought the term was actually
booty call
, but she wouldn’t swear to it. It seemed like a strictly booty-call relationship wouldn’t have you taking the woman to a friend’s wedding, but she could be wrong. Having never had anything even remotely close to a booty call or a fling, she couldn’t be sure of the parameters.

“Well, whoever she is, she wants your attention.”

“Guess I should see what she wants.”

“Guess you should.”

Imogen watched Ty saunter away and wished she weren’t so intrigued by the tightness of his backside. It irritated her when she couldn’t control her emotions.

Ryder Jefferson had jumped onto the hood of the car and uncorked a bottle of champagne. “Everyone raise a glass for Tammy and Elec!”

Tamara and Elec were snuggling in front of the car, and Imogen saw that Tamara was just beaming with happiness. It was wonderful to see, yet it reminded her of her own loneliness. Shaking the feeling off, she raised her glass, too.

Ryder said, “Here’s to life and love in the fast lane.”

Imogen would drink to that.

Turn the page for a preview of
the next contemporary romance
by Erin McCarthy

Hard and Fast

Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!

“OH my God, run!”

Imogen Wilson had her shoulder nearly dislocated from its socket when her friend Tamara yanked her arm, trying to drag her down the hallway. Stumbling to keep up with Tamara and their other friend Suzanne, Imogen glanced behind her to see why they needed to sprint, worried about a herd of angry race fans, fire, or a sudden act of terrorism in the speedway.

What she saw was worse.

It was Nikki Borden. Twenty-two years old. Bouncy. Bubbly. Blond. Built like Barbie, thanks to Nikki’s campaign of personal starvation and the assistance of breast implants and lip injections. She was definitely a beautiful girl by most male standards, and Imogen knew Nikki worked hard to maintain her appearance. Unfortunately, it seemed to be at the expense of nurturing her mind. The few times Imogen had tried to have a conversation with her, she had been left wondering if there were residual effects of the excessive use of hair dye because there was a whole lot of nothing going on in that girl’s head.

None of which would bother Imogen, per se, except that Nikki was dating Ty McCordle, the stock car driver Imogen was inexplicably attracted to.

“Don’t turn around,” Tamara said to Imogen, horrified. “She’ll see us!”

“Damn,” Suzanne said. “Too late.”

Nikki was waving to them with a big smile, and Imogen stifled a groan. She did not want to spend her time at the racetrack trying to make small talk with Nikki, and it was her fault they were going to have to be polite. She should have just run and asked questions later, but that wasn’t her personality. She always had to know what was going on, and it was highly likely her curiosity would be the death of her someday. Today it was going to result in fending insults from Nikki, who seemed to think it was her duty in the name of friendship to inform Imogen of all her physical flaws.

“Hi!” Nikki said, making record time over to them despite her high heels. “Where are you guys going? I’ll go with you.”

“We have passes to sit in the boxes,” Suzanne said. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure we can get you into the restricted area.”

Suzanne didn’t look the least bit sorry, and Imogen almost felt bad for Nikki, who clearly was hanging around the track by herself. Imogen knew what it was like to always be the loner.

“Oh, I have a pass too,” Nikki said, pulling a piece of paper out of her giant purple handbag. She grinned. “I guess having sex with a race car driver ought to get you something, right?”

Ugh. Imogen had known that Nikki was having sex with Ty—she had to be. It wasn’t like Nikki was the kind of girl who could cook a man a meal, discuss politics or racing with him, or even be considered a candidate for bearing his future children. Nikki was a booty call. But to know it and to hear it out loud were two different things entirely.

“I guess that I’d rather get an orgasm out of sex than a paper pass, but that’s just me,” Suzanne said.

Imogen had to concur with that. She would really like to have an orgasm at the hands of a race car driver.
A
race car driver. Ty. Who was instead giving Nikki orgasms and track passes.

It was utterly futile to think she could ever attract the attention of a man like that, and she needed to remember that.