Flat-Out Sexy (22 page)

“Do you need to answer that?” she asked.

“No, it’s just a text.”

“Don’t you want to read it?”

“Not really.” What he wanted was to taste Tamara’s mouth again, and to slide his hand up under her T-shirt and undo the bra she had put on. He wanted to lay her back across her round white table, peel her pink pajama pants off, and flick his tongue over her clit.

Not read his stupid text that he could almost guarantee was from Crystal.

“It’s that girl again, isn’t it?” she asked, her lip curling up.

He shrugged.

“Go ahead and see.”

“I don’t want to. I want to ignore her and hope she’ll go away.”

Tamara laughed. “It doesn’t work that way. Just read it.”

“Fine.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pushed the buttons to read the text. Only it was a picture text, the image speaking louder than he imagined any words ever would. “Oh my God.”

He actually felt himself recoil away from his phone and the picture of Crystal’s naked chest, his car number somehow attached to her nipples. He wasn’t sure if she’d used tape or what, but her right breast had a large 5 on her nipple, and the left had a 6, creating a 3-D effect.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Damn, that was disturbing. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be flattered or what, but it just left him feeling like he wanted to reach into his phone and snatch his numbers off her nipples. It felt sacrilegious.

“Oh, come on, you can’t turn white as a sheet and grimace like that and then not tell me. Or show me.”

“I don’t think you want to …” Too late. Tamara had turned his phone toward her.

“Oh, my. Well, there’s nothing subtle about that, is there?”

“Not really.” Elec hit Erase with a fair amount of disgust. “I don’t think ignoring her is working.”

“Guess not.” Tamara looked at him curiously. “How long did you date her?”

“For about a minute.” Elec stuck his phone back in his pocket. “We went out three times! That’s it.” And even though Tamara wasn’t asking, he felt it was important to point out, “And I didn’t sleep with her. Not even close. These texts are showing me way more of her than I ever saw on our three very casual dates.”

He couldn’t tell if Tamara believed him or not.

But she said, “Clearly she is determined to show you what you missed out on.”

“I don’t want it,” he insisted.

Tamara laughed. “Okay, I can see that. You look genuinely horrified. But what I can’t figure out is why you’d want saggy old me when you can have that perky perfection.”

She didn’t get it, and he didn’t know how to explain it to her. And he was afraid that no matter what he said, it would be misinterpreted. Maybe later he would try to explain what made her so gorgeous to him and why Crystal was artificial and empty. But for now he just settled for, “I think you’re beautiful. I want you. No one else.”

Her eyes softened. “Thank you. Now go home before I do something I’ll regret, like rip your clothes off.”

Elec grinned. “And how is that supposed to send me running to the door? I’d like to stick around for that.”

“Except that you respect me and know I’ll regret it, so you’re going to be stronger than me and leave.”

Damn. “Alright, alright.” Elec gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be on the road, but call me if you want. And let me know if the kids aren’t back in school next Monday and we can reschedule.”

“Okay. Good luck in Pocono.”

“Thanks.” And Elec got the hell out of there before he let her down and ravaged her on her kitchen table.

“HOW could you say something like that? Oh my God, this is a disaster!” Eve threw her messenger bag onto the sofa in Evan’s coach and glared at him, and Elec almost felt sorry for him.

Almost. Eve was furious at Evan for creating a PR nightmare. Elec was furious for more personal reasons.

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded! You know what it’s like … I had just climbed out of the car and they’re hitting me with questions. I didn’t mean it the way they made it sound.”

Eve, who had ripped her sandals off, grabbed the TV remote and whirled in the pink summer skirt and white top she’d been wearing at the track. “Listen to yourself, Evan, just listen.”

Oh, Lord, she was going to make them suffer through it again on DVR. There was Evan, grinning and victorious from his win at Pocono, climbing out of his car. Elec glanced back and forth between his brother sitting next to him, his elbows on his knees, his hands holding his head up, a grimace on his face, and the elated guy on the TV screen. Yeah, Elec almost felt sorry for him.

Microphones were shoved in Evan’s face and he answered a few questions, inserting his sponsor and car owner in at appropriate intervals. Then the reporter, a cute twentysomething who didn’t look like she’d know squat about stock car racing, said, “With this win today at Pocono, you just surpassed Pete Briggs’s record for the most victories at this track.”

“Really?” Evan said, looking startled.

Elec wouldn’t have known that either. Monroes weren’t ones to chase records. What mattered to them was climbing in the car week after week and making it count.

“Yes, he had four victories here and this is your fifth. How do you feel about that?”

“Well, that’s a fun bit of news, Theresa, thank you for sharing.” Evan gave her a big, charming smile and she smiled back. It was a little on-camera flirting that wasn’t necessarily appropriate but wouldn’t have been all that noteworthy, except that Evan opened his mouth again. And said, “And I guess all I can say about passing Pete’s record is that clearly things have turned out better for me than they have for him.”

Which probably wouldn’t have been a terrible thing to say except the man Evan was referring to was dead.

The reporter, who had been a flirty little sweetheart two seconds earlier, turned into a story shark and sank her teeth into Evan. “I guess they have turned out better for you since you’re standing here collecting another victory and he hit the wall at Talladega. Do you think that’s skill or just the luck of the driver?”

Evan’s grin had fallen off his face and he stammered a bit, before saying, “Everyone knows Pete Briggs was a great driver. His death was a huge loss to his family, fans, and to racing.”

Elec nudged his brother’s leg. “That was a good save, but dude.”

“I know, I know … but admit it, it just as easily could have been you.”

“No, it wouldn’t have,” Eve snapped. “Because Elec doesn’t get distracted by perky little reporters. The problem with Elec is that he never says enough. You, on the other hand, could stand to zip it once in a while.”

“Hey, now. I don’t see you having to do these interviews, Eve!” Evan dropped his hands and glared at her. “You think it’s so easy, but you try climbing out of a car that’s a hundred and ten degrees that you’ve been strapped into for four hours, dehydrated and still vibrating from the engine. You see how sharp on your toes you are.”

“I know what it’s like to drive a car! I was the quarter midget champion at fifteen, if you’re too blindsided by blond reporters to remember.”

“Midget cars ain’t stock cars, sweetheart.”

Oh, Lord, here they went. It was descending into something uglier than it already was. Elec could see both of their sides. It wasn’t easy to climb out of a car and answer tricky questions. But Eve was right—what Evan had said sounded just awful given that Pete was dead.

“Can we just focus on damage control here?” Elec asked. “Do you think Evan should offer an apology or maybe he can go to one of those events as a gesture … don’t Pete’s parents have a charity in his name?”

Image was important in racing, and Elec didn’t want this misstep to affect Evan’s career. Sponsors wanted to know they could count on a driver to stand behind their name and their product with integrity.

“That’s a good idea. You should go with him, Elec. Present a united front.”

“Oh … I don’t know.” Elec panicked at the thought of being at an event with the Briggses and possibly Tamara and not being able to acknowledge the relationship they had.

“Why not? It will look better than Evan going alone.”

“Don’t abandon me, man,” Evan said, and his eyes were pleading.

“Shit, I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to be there because …” Elec cleared his throat. “I’m kind of, well, dating Pete Briggs’s widow.”

“
What?
” Eve shrieked. “What does that mean? Like you go for coffee occasionally, or that you’re dating, dating, meaning you’re sleeping with her?”

Elec didn’t answer, just stared at his sister. She’d figure it out.

She did. “Oh my God, you’re sleeping with her … between you and Evan I’m going to have a heart attack. I will be dead at the age of thirty from stress.”

“When did you start sleeping with Tammy Briggs?” Evan asked, looking baffled as hell. “I didn’t even know you knew her.”

Then Eve slapped her forehead. “This is who you were talking to Mom about at lunch … this is the woman with the sick kids. Oh my God, you went over there with dinner and toys for her kids, didn’t you?”

“Yes. So what?” he said defensively.

Evan was looking at him like he’d grown a second head since they’d walked in the door.

“This is a good thing actually.” Eve paced back and forth, her skirt twirling when she turned. “We’ll have you do some PR with her kids … and make it obvious that you’re dating. That will deflect attention from Evan’s gaffe onto you. Everyone will be thrilled to dissect a race car romance. What a great story … the noble widow finds love again.”

Sweat was breaking out all over Elec’s body. “No. No, no, no. Stop, halt, do not pass Go, Eve. No one is going to be telling anyone about my relationship with Tamara. I am dead serious on this one. What we are doing is private. End of story.” Tamara would never, ever forgive him if he splashed their relationship all over the media. And hell, he didn’t want that himself. What they were sharing was special and needed to be just between the two of them. He wouldn’t have even told his family if he hadn’t had to.

“Why not? It’s not like you can keep it a secret forever.”

“But we can keep it a secret until Tamara decides she wants people to know, and then we’ll do it her way. Not with a media blitz. Pete’s parents are her in-laws and she’s still close to them.”

“Well, you know Johnny Briggs and Dad hate each other.”

“I know. And the reason is ridiculous as far as I can tell. Something about a stolen trophy and a fistfight. They’re grown men and they need to get over it.”

“You tell that to Dad,” Evan said, biting his fingernail. “I’d like to see that one go down. He’ll actually be madder at you than at me then.”

Now Elec was starting to feel as stressed out as Eve. His relationship with Tamara was complicated enough already. Why did everyone else have to keep sticking their finger in the pot and stirring things up? “I’m not going to say anything. All we need is Dad making an issue of their feud and we’ll have a PR nightmare on our hands. They’ll say you took a swipe at Pete intentionally.”

Eve stopped paced. “Oh, no. Oh, no. And then suddenly your blossoming romance will be seen as a maneuver on the part of the Monroes to get back at the Briggs family.”

Elec sat back in shock. “No one would believe that.” He looked up at Eve. “Would they?”

“Doesn’t matter if they believe it or not if the media chooses to make an issue out of it.” Eve stuck her finger out at him. “Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing with Tamara Briggs. Keep your little romps a secret or I will duct tape you to this coach when you’re not on the road.”

“I told you I wanted to keep it a secret!” he said in annoyance. “Don’t go threatening me, Eve Alexandra. I don’t want to hear it.”

“He’s pissed if he’s bringing out the middle name,” Evan said. “Let it go, Eve.”

Their sister didn’t look at all concerned with his stern voice. She was back to pacing. “Okay, here’s what we do. Elec keeps his diddling on the sly and Evan makes a better apology and goes to a Briggs Foundation charity event.”

Though Elec took a hell of an exception to the term
diddling
, he couldn’t disagree. “Fine.”

“I can do that,” Evan said.

Eve gave a massive sigh and headed for the kitchen. “Thank God. Now if you don’t have chocolate in here, I’m going to go bat shit crazy on you.”

Elec prayed he did, because neither he nor Evan wanted to see Eve’s head explode.

TAMARA picked at her dinner and tried to ignore the fact that her father-in-law was ranting about the comment Evan Monroe had made about Pete after his win at Pocono.

“I mean, who the hell does he think he is? That was just damn rude, tossing that remark out there so casually.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” Beth said. “Do you want more mashed potatoes, dear?”

“No,” Johnny said. “I don’t. What I want is an apology from that punk kid for insulting my son, who in his four short years in the cup series has a list of accomplishments longer than my arm.”