“It’s a proven fact that brain power is fueled by a healthy constitution. You need to flush your body regularly with lots of fluids. I’ve got green tea. It’ll do the trick.”
“I don’t want any green tea.”
“Diet Coke.”
“I don’t do artificial sweeteners.”
“Regular Coke.”
“I don’t do carbonated beverages.”
“Orange juice.”
“Too much acid.”
“Apple juice.”
“Too much sugar.”
“Beer.”
“Too much testosterone.” Jacqueline dug in her heels and tried to shrug off Eve’s grip on her elbow. “I really just need some time to myself.”
“Look, Ma, you have to stay in the kitchen.”
“Whatever for?”
“Good question.”
“What?”
“I mean, that’s a good question. I would ask the same thing if I were you and my daughter was acting a little strange.” At her mother’s pointed look she added, “Stranger than usual.”
“Eve.” Her mother pinned her with a gaze she remembered all too well from her childhood. It was the same look she’d given her when she’d demanded to know who had drawn a mustache and beard on the jacket picture of her first book. “Why are you forcing me into your kitchen?”
“Because . . .” Eve’s mind raced. She needed an excuse that smacked of marital bliss. “Because I . . .” Something that said love and commitment. “Because Linc and I . . .” Something that screamed marital enslavement and female oppression. “Because Linc and I are christening all the rooms of the apartment to celebrate our union as man and wife. Since doing the whole missionary thing seven times would get a little boring, we decided to, um, spice things up.”
“That’s nice, dear,” her mother finally said, after a long, shocked pause.
At least Eve thought it was shock, but her mother seemed unshockable these days, so she couldn’t be sure.
“The christening part I mean,” her mother went on, “not the union as man and wife. But I don’t understand what that has to do with the guest room? If the room’s a little out of order because you’ve been in there, I’ll simply straighten up.”
“It’s not out of order. It’s a dungeon,” she blurted out. A dungeon? “Yeah, it’s a fully-stocked, well-equipped chamber of torture.”
“Excuse me?”
“Linc straps me down and has his way with me.”
“He straps you down?” Her mother looked visibly pale. “He straps you down? That’s humiliating and degrading and totally oppressive.”
“I know.” Eve forced her best smile before she did something really stupid like burst into tears. “It really turns me on.”
Her mother’s gaze narrowed. “You haven’t been watching Cherry Chandler have you?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Never mind.” She waved her daughter silent. “I don’t want to know. I think I need to sit down.”
“Great.” She propelled her mother into the kitchen chair that faced away from the door leading to the hallway. “You chill while I get things tidied up and have Linc put away his whip. And his handcuffs,” she added for good measure before rushing down the hallway and bursting into the guest room.
She pushed the door shut behind her and turned.
“We’ve got big . . .” Trouble stalled on the tip of her tongue when she spotted him sprawled on the bed, a book in his hands. “You’re reading.”
“I was reading. Now I’m wondering what the hell you’re doing in here.”
“You’re reading Nelson DeMille.”
“And?”
“And you don’t look like the DeMille type.”
“What type do I look like?”
“The type who reads cereal boxes and those cheesey ads they put on the restroom stall walls. Not well-written, meaty fiction.”
He winked. “I guess I was bored. You’ve just got dogs on your bathroom wall.” He referred to the wallpaper she’d purchased at the local SPCA charity drive. All of the proceeds had gone to benefit the animal shelter where she’d found Killer all those years ago. “Is something up?”
“Up?” She didn’t mean for her gaze to drop, but suddenly her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. They fixed on his lap, which was hidden by the sheet. “I mean, yeah, something’s up, all right. You have to sleep with me tonight.”
“I thought we agreed not to do that again.”
“I don’t mean sleep as in sex. I mean sleep as in you have to crash in my room. My mother’s here.”
“Here?”
“Here. She left my father because he asked her to marry him and now she wants to stay here.” Panic bolted through her and her heart pounded. “I can’t believe this. She’s here. Right now. Right here.” She shook her head. “It’s not supposed to happen like this. She’s supposed to stay away. That was the point of us getting married in the first place.”
“Calm down. We can deal with this.” He threw back the covers to reveal a pair of white boxer shorts. Tossing his legs over the side of the bed, he pushed to his feet. The boxers pulled tight across his derriere as he leaned over and retrieved his jeans, which were heaped on the floor.
Okay, the last thing she needed to think about was his tight tush when her world was this close to falling apart.
Bye-bye, concentration.
Adios, documentary.
Hasta la vista, commercial success.
“Take a deep breath,” Linc said, coming up to her. He trailed a strong hand down her back and massaged between her shoulder blades for several long seconds. “Why don’t you just tell her to leave?”
“I can’t come out and tell her that.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . . Because I just can’t.” It was one thing to push Jacqueline Farrel away with a lot of black mascara and a few fake tattoos, and quite another to just blurt out the truth. After all, the woman had given birth to her. She deserved some respect. “She’s my mother.”
Warm fingertips cupped her chin. He forced her gaze to his. “It’s going to be okay.” He stared deep into her eyes and for the next few moments, she actually believed him. “Your mother hates the thought of you happily married to a male chauvinist, right?”
“She hates the thought of me married to anyone. The chauvinist part is just icing on the cake.”
“Then we’ll serve her up a great big slice and let our actions speak louder than words. Just follow my lead.”
Five minutes later, Eve stood at the kitchen counter wearing one of Linc’s oversized NASCAR T-shirts that fell to midthigh, and slathered peanut butter onto a slice of bread.
“Hurry it up,” Linc said. He sat at the kitchen table wearing a pair of old, washed-out orange board shorts and a frayed lime green T-shirt that read BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEER HOLDER. “I’m starving, dumpling.”
“Yes, sir.” Eve ignored the urge to slap Linc upside the head with the sandwich for the dumpling reference. She was Jacqueline’s daughter, however much she hated to admit it. She concentrated on humming “The Wedding March” and busied herself reaching for the grape jelly.
“So, Mom,” Linc said as he stretched out in his chair and hooked his feet at the ankles. “The little woman tells me you’re a big TV star.”
Eve caught her mother’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. The woman stiffened and her mouth drew into a tight line. “I host a late-night talk show.”
“The one with all those top-ten lists?”
“No,” her mother said, her brows drawing together. “That’s David Letterman.”
“Right.” Linc pointed a finger as he leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You’re the one with all the political viewpoints.”
“No,” Jacqueline ground out, “that’s Bill Maher.”
“Right. Oh, yeah, you did that ‘My Mistress Is a Transexual’ episode, didn’t you?”
“That’s Jerry Springer, and he’s
on during the day. They only rerun him at night.” Jacqueline sat stiffly in her chair, her hands folded in her lap. With tight lips she said, “My show is called Get Sexed Up!”
“Oh.” Linc made a big show of nodding as he slouched back in his chair and folded his arms.
He looked handsome and clueless, and it was all Eve could do not to bust out laughing.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of it?” Jacqueline asked.
Linc shrugged. “I watch mostly ESPN or the Outdoor channel.” He gave her a hopeful grin. “Any chance you’ll be doing something related to fishing sometime soon?”
Jacqueline’s frown deepened. “My show is all about the empowerment of women, Lincoln.”
“Right.” He nodded and gave her a knowing look. “So you don’t know how to fish.”
She scowled. “It’s not a case of whether or not I know how. I choose not to fish. That’s the key, don’t you see? It’s my choice. My right as a woman to do the things I like rather than what society expects of me. Besides, I don’t have much time for hobbies these days. I have more important things to do.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Hunting?”
Her frown deepened. “Educating today’s women on their basic rights as the dominant species.”
“So you don’t know how to hunt, either.” He glanced over his shoulder and drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Honey? I’m really hungry here.”
“Coming right up,” Eve sang out as she retrieved a plate from the cabinet, arranged the sandwich on top, and headed for the fridge. Her gaze zeroed in on the Sweet Leaf Tea before moving on to the carton of milk, a can of soda, orange juice . . . aha.
She unearthed the can of Bubba Beer sitting at the back of her fridge. While she didn’t drink the stuff herself, she always kept some on hand in case her mother dropped by.
“Here you are, sweetheart,” she said as she set the plate and beer in front of Linc. She tried to ingore the heat that rushed through her when Linc’s large hand slapped her playfully on her bottom. “Mom, are you sure I can’t get you anything?”
“No, no, dear.” Her mother tugged at her collar as if she was doing her best to stay calm and conscious. “I’m really tired. If you don’t mind, I would rather call it a night.”
“Wait!” Eve held up her hand when Linc started to take a bite of the peanut butter and jelly. She grabbed a knife, leaned in front of him, and proceeded to cut the sandwich into four corners before slicing off the crusts. “There.” She gave him a huge smile. “Now it’s just the way you like it.”
“On second thought,” Jacqueline said, a horrified look in her eyes, “I think I’ll go to a hotel.”
Chapter 14
Mom just left. She’s on her way to a hotel,” Eve told her father the minute his “Hello?” drifted over the line. She stood at the kitchen counter and slathered peanut butter onto another slice of bread. Linc was still sitting nearby at the kitchen table. “She wanted to stay here, but she changed her mind.”
“Or you changed it for her?” Donovan asked, laughter in his voice.
“I might have helped a little.” She topped the peanut butter with a second slice of bread and sliced the sandwich into two halves. “Actually, Linc and I together were the deciding factor.”
“That’s unfortunate. I was hoping your mother might be softening toward the idea of marriage.” She heard him murmur, “She’s okay. She’s going to a hotel,” to her grandmother before his voice came over the line again. “She’s as stubborn as ever, it seems.”
“Why don’t you call her?” While Eve understood her father’s stand on the marriage issue, they were still her parents, for heaven’s sake. She wanted them together.
“I will do no such thing. Your mother needs to learn her lesson—namely that a man can only take so much. I’ve been patient. I’ve respected her views on love and matrimony. I’ve even refrained from watching any and all organized professional sports that don’t include women.”
“That’s pretty much every professional sport.”
“Exactly. I’ve given up a great deal for your mother. It’s her turn to sacrifice for me.”
“So you’re not going to apologize and beg her forgiveness?”
“For wanting the woman I love to publicly acknowledge that she returns my feelings? I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this is going to be tough on you and your sisters, but I’m taking a stand. I’m not asking your mother to come home. Actually, I think the time apart might do us good.”
“Come again?”
“Your mother has convinced herself that she doesn’t need me. I believe otherwise. If I’m right, this separation will likely show her how much she misses me and can’t live without me. If not—”
“Don’t say it, Daddy.” Eve walked the two feet to retrieve a diet soda from the refrigerator. “Mom loves you. You know that.”
“How do I know that? By the way she refers to me on her show as the man who gives her her orgasms, or when she’s man-bashing me because I leave my socks in the living room?”
“Okay, so she’s not overly affectionate.” Eve pulled out a soda, popped the tab, and headed back to the counter for her sandwich. She could feel Linc’s gaze, and every nerve in her body went on alert. “That doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you,” she managed, despite the sudden pounding of her heart.
“I guess we’ll soon see, won’t we?”
“He’s not going to call her, is he?” Linc came up to her as she slid the receiver into place.
“He says it’s her decision, not his.” She tried to gather her control and slow her rapidly beating heart.
“Maybe he’s right.” His deep voice stirred the hair on the back of her neck.
“He is right,” she told him as she reached for her sandwich. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better. They’re my folks.” She turned to face him, the sandwich between them.
“It’ll work out.” He towered in front of her and peered at her with vivid, concerned blue eyes. His nearness was disconcerting. At the same time, she felt oddly comforted. “They’ve been together a long time,” he went on. “That has to count for something.”
Eve nodded. “You’re probably right. She’ll come around. I just don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon. My mother can be pretty stubborn.” Eve grinned. “Thanks so much for helping me tonight.”
He winked. “You’re the one who sent her running for the hills with the whole sandwich-cutting thing.”
“True, but I couldn’t have done it without you. The way you played dumb about her talk show was priceless. She definitely hates you.”
“I can’t say that I blame her.”
She took a bite of her sandwich and arched an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think chauvinists had a conscience,” she said after she swallowed her mouthful.
His gaze riveted on her lips for a long moment before he shrugged. “Yeah, well, you don’t know everything.”
She knew one thing. He wasn’t half as chauvinistic as she’d originally thought. Sure, he was loud and proud and very, very male, particularly when he stared at her as if he wanted to take a bite out of her the way he was doing right now. But he also had a heart.
Her mind rushed back to the night she’d met his parents, and the look on Linc’s face when he’d told her about his grandfather’s funeral. The guilt. The regret. Not for himself, but for his father, who was stuck living a lie.
Not that the discovery made a bit of difference. It just made talking to him more tolerable. Nice, even.
“Maybe I missed my true calling,” he told her as he plucked the sandwich half from her hand. His fingers grazed hers and heat tingled along her nerve endings. “I’m a pretty good actor.”
She nodded and watched him take a bite. His jaw worked around the mouthful and need tightened low in her belly. “You’re not at all what I thought you were,” she finally managed. Her gaze lifted and collided with his. “You’re actually nice.”
His grin faded and his eyes
took on a smoldering light. “If you knew what I was thinking right now, you wouldn’t think so.”
“What are you thinking?”
“About how much I really want to kiss you.”
Okay, so he wasn’t nice. He was psychic because all she could think of with him staring so intently at her was how much she wanted him to kiss her.
“I’m really thirsty,” she blurted out, turning toward the counter to retrieve her diet soda. She reached for the can and was about to lift it to her lips when his arms slid around her waist. He dropped the sandwich half onto the counter and his deep voice vibrated in her ear.
“It’s a good thing that your mother left. Otherwise, we’d be stuck in the same room all night.”
Eve wanted to shrug away, but he was so strong and warm and close. Her brain launched into a chemical production frenzy. Her adrenaline level spiked into the danger zone. Pheromones erupted, bumping and buzzing into one another like june bugs fighting for space at a streetlight.
Been there, done that, a voice whispered. And he-llo? You promised not to do it again.
“Lots of people share the same sleeping space without having sex,” Eve murmured as she set the can back on the counter with trembling fingers.
“True.”
“So it wouldn’t have been all that difficult.” Right. “We could have just pretended there was a wall between us.”
“A thick one.” His warmth seeped through her clothes and upped her body temperature.
“A wall so thick that we couldn’t see one another,” she added, her voice suddenly husky.
“See no evil.” His muscles bunched and tightened as he pulled her back against the hard wall of his chest.
“We couldn’t hear one another.” Eve licked her lips and tried to ignore the feel of his erection hard against her bottom.
“Speak no evil.”
“We couldn’t smell one another.” Her nostrils flared in response to the delicious scent of raw male and fresh soap.
“Smell no evil.”
“We’re adults, after all.” If only she didn’t feel like a teenager during her first make-out session—scared and excited at the same time.
“Mature,” his deep voice rumbled in her ear.
Sweet as Sugar, Hot as Spice Page 15