She retrieved her cell phone and checked her caller ID. Four phone calls from her mother, several from Xandra—who’d probably heard about the marriage by now—and one from Skye. Eve made a mental note to call her sisters as soon as possible—she wasn’t ready to hear her mother rail about her marriage just yet—and stuffed her cell phone back into her purse. Then she busied herself getting ready for today’s grand finale—dinner—where she would not only see Linc’s mother again, but meet his father for the first time.
After the throwing-up incident, they’d left Susanna Adams to deal with the wave of newly stirred-up gossip at the luncheon and headed over to city hall to see his father. But Senator Adams had already left for a private afternoon golf meeting with the city comptroller, and so they’d spent the next few hours making themselves very visible around the small town.
They’d stopped at the local diner and the dry cleaners and the mechanic shop owned by Linc’s friend Craig. Craig had been out meeting with his own supporters, and so Eve hadn’t been able to meet her new husband’s long-time friend. But she’d seen him in the dozens of pictures lining the walls of his office.
Craig and Linc in the sixth grade. Craig and Linc winning a medal for first place in freshman shop class. Craig and Linc leaning under the hood of a rusted-out Ford Mustang. Craig and Linc on Victory Lane following Linc’s first NASCAR win.
Craig was not just a buddy, but Linc’s only supporter, it seemed, when it came to the NASCAR racing. Eve could easily understand why Linc would go to such an extreme to help the man win the mayoral election, and so she’d stepped up her efforts to play the imperfect wife. She’d handed out brochures promoting her newest video to everyone they’d met, and had even offered Reverend Mitchell’s wife a guest appearance in her Generation seX documentary. And she’d posed for picture after picture for the handful of photographers that had tailed them throughout the afternoon.
Obviously, she’d shaken things up as Linc had hoped. The phone had been ringing nonstop with calls from outraged citizens since they’d stopped off at Linc’s to change for dinner.
Eve had expected a massive, sprawling playboy-type mansion in keeping with Linc’s bad-boy image. Something complete with a hot tub in the living room, posters of naked girls covering the walls, pizza boxes piled high in the kitchen, and beer cans stacked to the ceiling.
What she’d found was a single-story, ranch-style house with a wraparound porch. The large den hosted a beige leather sofa and two matching chairs. There wasn’t a poster in sight, or anything else to detract from the architectural beauty of the stained cedar walls and massive rock fireplace. The kitchen was state-of-the-art with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a marble-topped island. Two guest bedrooms had been decorated in various shades of beige and hunter green. Linc’s bedroom had been done in navy-and-green plaid, from the down comforter that topped the king-sized bed to the woven rugs covering the hardwood floor.
There was nothing loud or obnoxious about the place, with the exception of a large, state-of-the-art sound system and a plasma movie screen in the den. Overall, the house looked more like a feature in Southern Living, rather than the home of NASCAR’s baddest bad boy.
Eve glanced at her reflection in the mirror before adding an extra layer of black around her eyes. She topped off the sex kitten look with a layer of Vivid Valentine lipstick to accent the fullness of her lips.
“Cool necklace,” Betsy said as she watched Eve pull a chain of safety pins from her overnight bag. “L.A. must be the most bitchin’ place to live.”
“It’s okay as long as you stay off the freeway during rush hour. And this isn’t really a necklace. I just fasten them together so they don’t scatter in the bottom of my . . .” Her words faded as an idea struck. “You know, this does sort of go with my outfit.”
“Totally. Check this out,” Betsy said as Eve fastened the chain around her neck. “Safety pins are the new thing in town, ’cause Eve’s in the house and she’s ready to party down.”
“I like it.”
“So do I.” Linc’s voice sounded in the doorway and Eve’s heart kick-started. She turned to find him looking at her—or through her, it seemed. Appreciation glimmered in his gaze.
“The safety pins are a nice touch,” he said, eyeing her necklace. “If something rips, we’re all set.”
“Or we could just use them for the good of all womankind and fasten your lips together.”
Betsy giggled and Linc smiled.
“Careful there, sunshine,” he whispered for Eve’s ears only when she walked past him to leave the room. “I’m liable to think you’re actually starting to like me.”
“When the devil gets his first brain freeze.”
Linc pulled Eve to a halt just shy of the doorway to his parents’ dining room. The minute they’d arrived at the monstrous colonial where Linc had grown up, Betsy had rushed up to her bedroom to get in a few phone calls before dinner. Thankfully. Linc needed a few quiet moments to psych himself up. While he’d tried to mentally prepare himself for the coming dinner during the fifteen-minute drive over, he hadn’t been able to focus. Not with Betsy chattering away in the backseat, rapping about everything from Celia Martin’s new John Deere tractor to the latest boy in her biology class. And not with Eve smiling damn near the whole way.
He hadn’t expected his stomach to hollow out at the sight of her smile, but it had. It wasn’t as if he was a damned stranger when it came to good-looking, sexy women. He’d had more than his share, particularly over the past few years since he’d started beefing up his NASCAR notoriety. He didn’t go all hard at the sight of a pair of long legs, or a nice ass, or even a substantial pair of breasts. And he sure as hell didn’t get all hot and bothered over a woman’s smile.
But Eve’s lips were just so full and lush, her teeth straight and white. And she had this dimple that cut into her upper cheek and softened her entire expression. He hadn’t noticed it before because he’d been too busy focusing on the overall package. But it was there, even more pronounced when she actually laughed out loud.
Which made matters worse, because the soft, melodic sound bothered him almost as much as her smile did.
Almost as much as the fact that he’d lied to his mother earlier that day and was about to perpetuate the same lie to his father.
Despite his reason for the deception, the whole thing didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like deceiving people, especially the people he loved. And now that very love was at stake.
“I hope you’re happy now, because I’m not. I never will be, thanks to you.” Jackson Adams had spoken those bitter words not five years ago to his own father.
Linc didn’t want to end up saying the same thing to Jackson. Worse, he didn’t want to feel the same bitterness long after it was too late to make things right.
He drew in a deep breath and tried to ignore the scent of warm vanilla sugar that filled his nostrils.
Concentrate on your points, man, a voice whispered. It’s all about hitting those points.
In racing, and in life.
When he wanted to successfully navigate a track, he mentally mapped the quickest and most efficient way to get through a lap. If he hit just the right points lap after lap, he could keep his pace and win the race.
Now was no different.
It was all about losing votes from now until November and winning his first Nextel Cup. That meant—point A—keeping up appearances with Eve, while—point B—keeping his mind on the next race. And the next. And that meant no thinking about her or the chemistry that sizzled between them.
Or the sex that had fizzled.
He shook away the sudden notion and tried to concentrate on the voices that carried from inside the dining room.
“Why, she’s totally unacceptable. What with all that makeup and those clothes. You saw her picture in the newspaper.”
“You can’t believe the press. You know that. They’re always out to smear candidates.”
“In this case
, they have some really great ammunition. She makes sex tapes for a living. It’s people like her who are killing family values and sending this country straight to hell in a handbasket. I can’t imagine what Lincoln was thinking marrying someone like her.”
“Maybe he loves her.”
“And maybe he’s smelled too much exhaust.”
“She really makes sex tapes for a living?”
“Explicit how-to videos. Very explicit. And she doesn’t just make them. She talks about them. She calls herself a sexpert.”
“Well, that explains it then. The boy’s thinking with his Willy Wonka.”
“I might agree with you, but she’s just as frightening as she is sexy. I’ve never seen so much black eyeliner in my life. Why, she could be one of those devil worshipers, for all we know.”
Before Susanna Adams could say anything else, Linc steered Eve forward and they entered the dining room.
“We’re here,” he announced as he guided Eve toward a chair. “Mom, you and Eve have already met.”
“Why, yes. Lovely to, um, see you again, dear.”
“Dad,” Linc went on, “meet Eve. Eve, meet my dad, Senator Jackson Roosevelt Adams.”
Jackson Adams looked every bit his sixty-two years and then some. It wasn’t so much his appearance; while he did have snow-white hair, it was cut in a stylish fashion and slicked back. He wore a nicely cut dark gray suit, his tie a mix of red and navy pinstripes. If anything, he was an attractive man who’d aged well. It was his eyes that betrayed his years. They were dark and knowing. As if he’d seen too much and worried over even more.
Judging by the sudden narrowing of his gaze as he stared at Eve, Linc had just added a heap of worry to the mix.
“Nice to, um, meet you, young lady.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, sir. I’ve always wanted to marry into politics.”
Jackson’s expression went from worried to pleasantly surprised. “Is that so?”
“It’s always been my absolute fantasy to fall head over heels for a handsome Democrat. In fact, I’m going to use the idea for my very next video. Sexual Positions for the Adventurous Democrat.”
Linc tried to hide his smile while his father nearly choked on a mouthful of iced tea.
“We’re not Democrats, young lady,” the conservative Adams told his new daughter-in-law when he finally found his voice.
“You’re not?” Eve looked hopeful. “Independent Party?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Liberal something or other?”
“Not in this lifetime or any other. Son”—he turned to Linc—“you mean to tell me you married a Demo—”
“Let’s not talk politics,” Susanna cut in. “Or work,” she said, nailing Eve with a gaze that said Please, no more talk about s-e-x. “Let’s just have a nice dinner.” She patted her husband’s arm. “I told you so,” she murmured under her breath.
“My, but that’s an interesting necklace,” his mother said once the salad had been passed around.
“Oh, my necklace.” Eve fingered the silver safety pins. “It’s very sentimental.”
“Sentimental safety pins?” Susanna frowned. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of such a thing.”
“I have a total of twenty-two piercings, each of which I did myself with these babies. This is sort of a keepsake to mark each occasion.”
“Twenty-two?” Jackson Adams took another sip of iced tea and eyed her. “Why, I only see two holes—one in each ear.”
“The other twenty are in various other places.”
“Other places?” Jackson cast a puzzled look at his wife, who shook her head as if to say Drop it. “How many other places can you put an earring, for Jesus’ sake?”
Eve winked at Linc and smiled. “Well, sir, since you asked . . .”
Chapter 10
Eve was not going to think about Linc. Or the way he looked. Or the way he smelled. Or the fact that he was sleeping in the room right next to hers.
That’s what she told herself as she lay in the comfortable king-sized bed in Linc’s guest bedroom and stared at the ceiling.
Comfortable, as in she should be sleeping right now. It was midnight and she was exhausted. Dinner had been a huge success—Linc’s parents were sufficiently horrified by their new daughter-in-law and her never-ending sex advice—and so she felt extremely satisfied. Comfortable plus exhausted plus satisfied usually equaled sleep.
Not this time. Not with Linc’s image firmly entrenched in her brain. She could still see him staring back at her across the dinner table, a smile on his handsome face, his eyes glittering with humor and admiration and lust.
Despite their agreement, he still wanted her.
Despite the bad sex, she still wanted him.
Her eyes snapped open and she stared at the ceiling again. She rolled onto her right side and punched the pillow a few times before snuggling down. There. She was going to close her eyes, and she wasn’t going to remember the heat in his fingertips when he’d brushed against her while opening the car door. She’d been surprised by the gesture and startled by the contact and amazed at her fierce response . . .
Her skin prickled and her eyes popped open. She rolled onto her left side, scrunched the pillow under her head and snuggled down. There. Now she was going to close her eyes, and she wasn’t going to remember the way he’d smelled when he’d come up behind her at his front door. An intoxicating mixture of cologne and fresh soap . . .
Her nostrils flared and her eyes popped open again and she rolled onto her back.
A sharp ache echoed between her legs and her heart raced and her tummy trembled and . . . Geez, who was she trying to kid?
She sat up and climbed out of the bed. A few steps and she found herself in the hallway. The hardwood floor was cool beneath her bare feet, but it did nothing to ease the fire burning inside her as she poised outside his door.
Now what?
She was going to knock, that’s what. And then she was going to go inside. And then she was going to tell him that she couldn’t stop thinking about him or how much she wanted a real orgasm and could he please, please, please give her one.
You do not need a man to give you anything. Own your orgasm, a voice whispered.
Her mother’s voice.
She reached for the doorknob.
“Can’t sleep?” The deep, husky timbre stirred the hair on the back of her neck and stalled her hand on the cold brass.
She whirled to find Linc standing in the doorway that led to the kitchen. The sight of him wearing nothing but a pair of snug, faded jeans stalled her heart for a long moment. Soft denim molded to his lean hips and strong thighs, and cupped his crotch. A frayed rip in the denim on his left thigh gave her a glimpse of silky blond hair and tanned skin and . . . Yum.
She’d seen him without a shirt before, but she hadn’t really seen him. She’d been too hot and bothered the night before, too eager for the next moment to take a good, long look, and too determined the morning after to ignore him.
He had an athlete’s body, his shoulders broad, his arms muscular. Gold hair sprinkled his chest from nipple to nipple before narrowing into a thin line that bisected his six-pack abs and disappeared into the waistband of his jeans. Her gaze riveted on the hard bulge beneath his zipper for several fast, furious heartbeats before shifting north.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“In the worst way.”
“Me, too.” He held up a sandwich. The aroma of peanut butter and grape jelly slid into her nostrils. Her stomach grumbled and he grinned. “I’ve got plenty if you want some.” She didn’t miss the heat that simmered in the bright blue depths of his eyes. As if the offer had nothing to do with food and everything to do with him.
But then his gaze darkened and he stiffened, as if he’d just remembered some all-important fact.
Duh. You two have an agreement. No more sex.
Yeah, right.
He was a Yale-educated public defender who drove a modest b
ut tasteful Navigator, treated his fans with dignity and respect, doted on his little sister, went above and beyond the call of duty for his best friend, ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and kept his word.
Eve was definitely in trouble.
Linc had never been a big believer in luck. Good fortune came through hard work and talent, and when things went wrong, there was usually a damned good reason behind it. Lack of motivation. Fear. Laziness.
But as he watched Eve walk past him into the kitchen, he couldn’t help but reevaluate his position.
He blinked and stared at the woman standing near the kitchen island. He’d expected her to be wearing a slinky leopard-print bra and panty set, or a see-through black teddy, or something equally exotic and racy when climbing beneath the covers. The last thing he’d anticipated was a pair of pink boxer shorts with yellow smiley faces and a matching tank top.
Not that he liked pink boxer shorts. Not at this point in his life. He liked his women hot and spicy and temporary. Eve looked just the opposite with her hair pulled up in a ponytail and her face free of makeup. Forget spicy. She looked as sweet as sugar, and damned if he didn’t want a taste anyway.
Of all the rotten luck.
“Help yourself,” he told her, motioning to the peanut butter and jelly that sat on the countertop. “I’m afraid it’s all I’ve got. I don’t get home too often and so I don’t keep the refrigerator stocked.”
“This is fine. I was too busy trying to keep from laughing to really eat tonight,” she told him as she untwisted the bread tie and pulled two slices from the loaf.
“You kept a straight face the entire time.”
“I knew those acting classes would pay off someday.” She set her bread on the counter and reached for a knife.
“You took acting classes?”
“Every film student takes acting classes. I took a few more than the norm, however.” She dipped the knife into the peanut butter and spread a layer onto one slice of bread. “Acting is my second love.” She smiled as if she had a secret. “At one point in college, I actually considered giving it a shot. I met this producer while I was waitressing at this restaurant down on Hollywood Boulevard. He offered me a small part in a movie he was casting. He said he liked my look and my attitude, and he could make me a star if I would just say yes.” She set the knife on the counter and topped the peanut butter layer with her second slice of bread.
Sweet as Sugar, Hot as Spice Page 11
