Flat-Out Sexy (4 page)

But Tamara Briggs was very, very tempting. And she had children already, he was fairly certain. That had to count for something.

“You caught me. I do remember your name. And just so you know, I’ll answer to anything but Junior.”

“Why? Because it makes you feel like you’re in your father’s shadow?”

“No. It’s because I’m not a Junior.”

Tamara laughed, a soft, throaty laugh that spiked his desire up yet another notch. He wouldn’t have thought it was even possible to be so turned on just sitting fully dressed in the back of a cab, but life took unexpected turns, and this was new knowledge he was happy to have.

“Oh. Well, alright then.” She gave him another side smile. “That makes total sense.”

“I’m sorry you lost your purse,” Elec added. “I hope it turns up.”

“Me, too. I don’t even know what I did with it, and that’s driving me crazy. I never lose things. Never.” She waved her hand in the air. “God, this weekend has been a total disaster. Maybe I should have just stayed home.”

That would have been seriously unfortunate because then Elec wouldn’t have been treated to the view of her long legs or her luscious lips, and that would have truly been a damn shame. “Why? What else has gone wrong?”

She shot him a sheepish look. “I brought a man I’ve been seeing with me.”

Elec felt a serious kick of disappointment. She was dating someone? That was just all sorts of wrong. “So where is he tonight? Why isn’t he taking you home?” And could Elec pay him off to get rid of him?

“I broke up with him.”

Thank the Lord. Now he didn’t have to worry about stealing the poor sap’s woman, because he was fairly certain he was going to take a crack at it, morally wrong or not.

“There just wasn’t any …” She cleared her throat. “He’s very nice, but there was no … between us, you know. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“You mean no sexual attraction?” he asked, not sure why she wasn’t just saying that outright. It happened all the time. That’s what friendship was for. Sometimes you just didn’t feel any sort of physical connection with someone of the opposite sex.

She nodded rapidly. “Exactly. Only, I feel like I led him on by inviting him for this weekend.” She turned more fully to him, uncrossing her legs and drawing them up onto the seat in a way that created a tunnel between her dress and her inner thighs. “The thing is, I haven’t dated at all since my husband was killed.”

Distracted by the fact that he could almost see up her skirt—almost, but not quite—which was teasing him something terrible, Elec was having a little trouble concentrating on her words. He forced himself to drag his gaze away from those legs and look up at her face. Focus. Form words. He could do that. “Well, that’s understandable. It hasn’t been all that long, has it? Two seasons ago, right? You don’t get over something like that in the blink of an eye.”

Hell, how did a wife ever get over losing her husband in a wreck? He wasn’t sure.

“Thanks for saying that.” Her hand came out and softly touched his knee before pulling back. “And I’ve been busy raising my kids, juggling my career. This was the first guy I’ve gone out with and I thought I could make myself like him since he’s nice and safe and stable. Tonight I figured out I can’t do that.”

Elec wanted to touch Tamara back, to stroke his own hand over her bare knee, or slide his fingers into her thick hair, but he restrained himself. “No. You can’t force yourself to feel attracted to someone.” He’d learned that with the bimbo brigade. Just because a woman looked good on his arm before a big race didn’t make up for the awkward silences, or worse, the mindless chatter she threw at him until all he wanted was a remote control to turn her volume down.

“No. You can’t.” She gave a soft laugh and pressed fingers to her temples. “God, I have no idea why I’m telling you all this. You’re probably regretting getting saddled with me. I’m babbling.”

“Obviously you needed someone to talk to, and sometimes a person you don’t know is the best bet. You feel like they have no bias on whatever you’re saying.” He gave her a smile. “And I’ve been told I have one of those faces. People like to tell me things.” Sometimes things he could do without, frankly, like the bank teller’s description of her hysterectomy.

“You do have one of those faces,” she said softly. “Like you’re actually listening, not just looking for an opening to turn the subject back to you.”

The look on her face led him to believe she’d known a lot of men like that. He shrugged. “I like listening to people talk. Most people are fascinating. And I’m not all that comfortable in the limelight, anyway.” Which had been a major setback in his career, something he fought against every day. “My mother used to call me Elec the Eyeball, because I was always sitting and watching. Staring, I guess.” He grinned. “Not really a flattering nickname, but I actually think she appreciated me being a quiet kid, and meant it in an affectionate way. My brother and sister were kind of loud.” In the way that the roar of forty-three cars circling the short track at Bristol was kind of loud.

She laughed. “Elec the Eyeball? Mothers give their kids the most appalling nicknames. I call my son Peter-Pants and I really need to stop. He’s nine years old and it’s not so cute anymore.”

Ouch. Poor kid. He’d take Eyeball any day of the week over being referenced as a fairy boy in tights. Elec grinned. “Just don’t call him that in public. That’s a fistfight with the other boys waiting to happen.”

“Ugh. I can’t stomach the thought of my baby getting into a fistfight. I’m not ready for any of that. Ryder is Petey’s godfather and I’m going to be calling on him for help the first time a punch is thrown.” She laughed. “I try not to be overprotective, but there are some things I just don’t want to think about or deal with. And don’t even get me started on how I handle the day my son discovers girls don’t have cooties … I won’t be turning to Ryder for advice there, trust me, since he’s got a new woman every week. I think I’ll just lock my son up until he’s thirty instead.”

“I don’t think that will go over well.”

“I’m hoping that since Petey’s main interest in life is bugs and nature, he won’t discover girls until he’s eighteen.”

“Just because he likes a good cockroach doesn’t mean he won’t be fantasizing about girls between tromps in the woods.”

“That’s true, I guess.” She sighed. “Lord, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“I bet you’re an amazing mother,” Elec murmured, wondering if she had any idea at all how damn hot she was. He was such a skunk. For all he claimed to be a good listener, and for all that he really was interested in getting to know her, he was seriously distracted by how close she was to him in the cab. Her perfume drifted over to him every time she shifted on the seat and her legs came dangerously close to bumping his over and over, tormenting him. He wanted to just reach out and taste those plump, juicy lips and see if they were as delicious as they looked. He wanted to slide his hand up her leg, under that dress, and discover if she wore practical panties, a sexy thong, or nothing at all. If he were a betting man, he’d put his money on black lace covering her soft, feminine sex, cupping her firm ass delicately.

And while he was thinking all of that, she was talking about her child, which meant he really should be heartily ashamed of himself.

He wasn’t feeling it.

“Thanks,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes widening, like she realized which way the wind was blowing.

Like she knew he was two seconds away from kissing her.

Elec leaned forward.

Tamara sucked in a breath.

The cabdriver announced, “We’re here.”

She jumped back and said, “Oh! That was fast.”

Damn it. Elec gritted his teeth in frustration and sank back against the seat. Tamara was already jumping out of the cab, though, so he didn’t have any time to waste lamenting the lost chance. He threw double the fare at the driver and climbed out before she could completely escape on him.

Fortunately, she was standing there looking around in bewilderment. “I don’t even know which coach is Ryder’s. I don’t remember what it looks like, or if he even has the same one.”

“I’ll show you.” It was the gentlemanly thing to do. Walk her to Ryder’s place, ask her out on a date. That was the plan. That was the right thing to do. Not to kiss her in the cab, or invite her back to his own coach, which was parked three over from Ryder’s. Not to mash his mouth against hers and dip his tongue inside to see if she tasted as delicious as she looked. She would think he was on the make, which he was, but there was a difference. Elec was on the make with every intention of calling her, so while it might seem a little lecherous, it was lecherous with a follow-through. She’d never believe that, though, so he had to be patient, play it cool.

They went through the gate and entered the restricted area where all the drivers kept their motor coaches. Elec’s portion of the coach, which he shared with his older brother Evan, wasn’t as rigged out as some of the other guys’, since he did tend to go home to his condo in Charlotte Monday through Wednesday during the race season, and because he was still just a rookie—as the other drivers all liked to point out—but he did have a flat-screen TV and his X-box. Both kept him company now that he’d ditched the last of the simpering, camera-hungry females who had been dangling after him, though Crystal still insisted on sending him a boatload of text messages. He hadn’t figured out how to make that stop without getting rude on her and he didn’t like to be rude, so for the moment, he’d just been ignoring her.

Elec knew from barbeques Ryder had thrown that his coach was fully loaded, looking straight out of a decorating magazine with plush furniture in earth tones, and containing every gadget known to man. Ryder’s driver, a man who was probably pushing sixty, but was sporting killer biceps, gave Tamara a wide smile in recognition when he opened the door to them.

“Well, hello, Mrs. Briggs, how are you? Ryder called me and gave me a heads-up. I’m sorry you lost your purse but it’s good to see you again.” He shot a curious look over her head at Elec. “Elec,” he said as a greeting.

Elec nodded in return, getting the message loud and clear that the driver was wondering what the hell he was doing with Tamara. “Jeff.”

“Thanks,” Tamara said with an answering smile. “It’s good to see you, too, Jeff. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain, can’t complain.” Jeff stepped down out of the coach. “I’m heading over to my girlfriend’s for the night, so if you could lock up in the morning, I’d appreciate it.”

“I hope I’m not running you out,” she said in alarm. “Don’t leave on my account if you usually stay here when Ryder isn’t.”

“Oh, no, no. Ruth and I have a standing Saturday night date. But I left my cell phone number on the table so call me if you need anything, Mrs. Briggs.”

Then the older man left, with a stern glare and a nod in Elec’s direction. He hardly even noticed, reflecting on what Jeff had been calling Tamara.

Mrs. Briggs. Damn, what the hell did Elec think he was doing? The title bothered Elec, gave him serious pause. Who did he think he was, competing with the late, great Pete Briggs? Tamara had loved him, probably still missed him. That was a lot to live up to, and Pete had been a social guy, the life of the party. He had been the first one to smile for the cameras, to climb up on a table and give a speech, and to do a burnout for the fans when he won a race. Elec winced when the cameras turned on him. He was a racer, never happier than when he was building an engine or sitting behind the wheel, and he wasn’t good at public speaking.

Elec was nothing like Pete Briggs. So no doubt he was not Mrs. Tamara Briggs’s type at all.

Pete had given Tamara marriage, children, fame in racing, money.

Elec had none of that to give.

Yet he was more attracted to her than any woman in a good long while. Maybe ever.

Which was why he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Tamara.”

She turned around, standing in the doorway of the coach, her head tilted, chin tucked toward her chest, her restless hand playing with the ends of her hair. “Thanks for seeing me back, Elec. I know Ryder foisted me off on you and you’ve been very patient.”

Patience had nothing to do with anything. What he was, was damn frustrated, and wishing he’d been gifted with a silver tongue instead of one that tripped over words, and a brain that had no clue how to articulate to her what he was thinking. Which was that he wanted to get to know her better. Much better. So he just stuck his hands in his front pockets and hoped for the best, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to dredge up any pretty or slick words. “I told you it’s the best thing to happen to me all day.”

He was standing only a foot or two in front of her and he wished he wasn’t wearing a stained dress shirt and shoes that pinched the hell out of his feet. He’d kill to be in jeans, a T-shirt, and a ball cap. Maybe then he’d feel like less of a jackass. “I’d like to go to dinner with you next week,” he said before he turned into a total chickenshit and hauled ass out of there without asking her out. “Are you free?”

Her eyes widened, like she’d honestly had no idea he was going to say that.

“Oh,” she said and blinked.

Well, that was quite the ego stroke. Not. Elec figured he could say something smooth and flirtatious and coaxing, or he could just wait and see if she expanded on her nothing of a response. He knew anything he tried to say would sound desperate so he just shut his mouth, watched, and waited.