He grinned and gave her a knowing wink. “What can I say? I learned from the best.”
Chapter 16
She’d faked it again.
The knowledge played over in his head the rest of the night as he lay next to Eve in her bed for the first time since their wedding night. She snored softly, her expression passive and relaxed.
As if she’d really and truly had an orgasm.
She hadn’t, but she’d been close. Linc had felt it. He still throbbed from the feel of her clenching and unclenching around him. Even more, he’d seen it in her eyes because they’d been wide open and locked with his.
Up until Mr. Wilkie had arrived to walk the dog, that is. Talk about a mood killer. Things had gone downhill fast, for both of them. He understood his own inhibitions. He’d grown up thinking of sex as a taboo subject, only to be undertaken behind closed doors and with the lights out. But Eve’s childhood had been totally different. She’d been taught that sex was a pleasure and a right, not strictly a means of procreation. On top of that, she made her living teaching people how to have fulfilling sex. She was the last person he would have expected to be unnerved by being interrupted. She’d done an entire video on catering to the inner exhibitionist, for Christ’s sake. She shouldn’t have had a problem with someone being out in the front hallway—Mr. Wilkie hadn’t a clue as to what Eve and Linc had been doing.
He could still see the sheer mortification on Eve’s face and the terror in her gaze. For those few seconds, she’d actually looked vulnerable. Like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Shy, even.
Forget shy. That was definitely pushing it. But she did have her limits, and he’d just learned one of them. And damned if he didn’t want to push her even farther and see if she had others.
In the interest of good sex, of course.
For the first time in his life, Linc was this close to living for himself. Nobody pushing him. No responsibility hanging over his head. He’d waited a long time to get to the point in his life where he didn’t have to worry over anyone or feel responsible for them or put their feelings above his own.
So he wasn’t going to mess things up by getting emotionally involved with anyone, especially a tough-talking, sexy as all get-out feminist who had a weak spot for dogs and a deep loyalty to her family, and the prettiest, greenest eyes he’d seen in a long, long time.
Physically, however, he was primed and ready.
So much so that he hauled himself out of bed later that night and into a cold shower. The first step of the Sexcess video had gotten him that much closer to giving her a real orgasm. He wasn’t going to deviate now, no matter how much he wanted to roll over and plunge into her soft, warm body. Number two on the video was spontaneous sex, and so he couldn’t very well make a move now. While he might catch her off guard by waking her up, she wouldn’t be as surprised as if he waited. They were in bed together, after all. Undoubtedly, she anticipated having sex with him again tonight, which pretty much killed the spontaneity.
And so Linc wasn’t going to launch another all-out offensive for the time being. As for a few tactical maneuvers . . . Well, the video had advised to keep her engine revved between encounters.
He hadn’t touched her all night.
The realization followed Eve as she crawled out of bed the next morning—an empty bed, mind you—and busied herself with getting ready for work. The smell of eggs and sausage filled her head. She could hear Linc moving around in her kitchen, and she wasn’t sure what bothered her the most—the fact that he hadn’t made a move on her all night, or the fact that he was humming.
Humming, of all things. When she was this close to spontaneously combusting from all the sexual frustration boiling inside her.
“Good morning.” He grinned when Eve finally trudged into the kitchen, her pre-coffee frown firmly in place.
“That’s a matter of opinion.” She bypassed where he sat at her kitchen table. He wore a T-shirt and jeans, his hair still damp from the shower. A steaming plate of breakfast sat in front of him.
She headed for the cabinet and her mug. She drank in the smell of coffee brewing and let it clear the cobwebs from her brain before taking a long drink. The liquid burned its way down her throat and revved her heartbeat.
“Here you go, Killer,” Linc said, plucking a sausage from his plate and wagging it at the dog.
Killer growled and Eve actually felt a little less grumpy. At least her dog was starting to seem like her old grumpy self.
“Your mother called,” Linc told Eve after he took a bite of scrambled eggs. “She said she would like to have lunch with you. I told her you couldn’t make it because we’re doing Thai.”
“I hate Thai.”
“She said as much.”
“And what did you say?”
“That you love it now because I love it.” He took another bite of eggs and her stomach grumbled.
For him, not the eggs.
Eve tamped down the sensation and asked, “And what did she say?”
“That I’ve brainwashed you.” At her arched eyebrow, he added, “I told her that I didn’t have to brainwash you because you were a willing victim, and then I called her Mom and told her she was welcome to join us.”
“I thought you were flying out at lunchtime.”
“Actually, I’m flying out in about an hour.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m meeting Clint at Martinsville Speedway in Virginia later today to go over Sunday’s race. I just said that for your mother—shock value.”
“That’s evil,” she said as she put her cup in the sink and turned back to him. She grinned. “I like it.”
“So do I,” he said as he pushed his chair back from the table, stood, and closed the distance between them. He leaned into her, the motion arching her back against the counter. He reached around her to set his coffee cup in the sink and let his arm linger for a long moment.
“Pure evil,” he murmured as he stared down at her.
“What?”
“Your shirt.”
She glanced down and noted the tank top she wore. It was black with the words PURE EVIL in vivid red. The clingy material molded to her braless nipples, which hardened beneath the sudden scrutiny.
“I . . .” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “They’re a band. I saw them down on East Hollywood last year.”
“I’ll have to check them out.” Fire burned in his gaze, and she knew the them he referred to had nothing to do with rock music.
His gaze lingered on her chest a few more moments before shifting to her mouth. He leaned down. His breath fanned her bottom lip and she swallowed. She closed her eyes, fully expecting to feel his lips on hers, nibbling and sucking and . . .
Nothing.
Her eyes snapped open to find him staring down at her, a grin on his handsome face.
Disappointment rushed through her, along with a heavy dose of frustration. She stiffened. “It’s not nice to make promises you don’t intend to keep.”
“Oh, I intend to keep this one.”
“When?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
“This is boring as hell,” Trina announced after previewing the final notes for Generation seX. It was late Friday afternoon, four days since Linc had left for Martinsville, Virginia, and Eve had just finalized the working script. They sat in Eve’s fifth-floor office. Eve perched on her oversized leather chair behind her chrome and glass desk, while Trina lounged in a plush red velour chair on the opposite side.
“Which segment?” Eve asked.
“Every segment.” Trina closed the folder holding Eve’s outline and placed it on the desk. “We’re talking a collective boring.”
Tell me about it. “It’s informative.”
“So is the Weather Channel. You wouldn’t catch me watching that for three hours straight. Why don’t you spice it up or something?”
“Because the network doesn’t want spice.” Eve grabbed the folder and opened it in front of her. �
�They want a serious, thought-provoking look at the evolution of sex from one generation to the next.”
“There’s nothing serious or thought-provoking about sex. And if there is, you’re definitely with the wrong partner.”
“You’re supposed to be enthusiastic about this. This project is going to give us some real exposure.”
“I’m happy with the exposure we’re getting right now. Jack and Candace are a cash cow.”
“The cow’s getting old.” Eve sighed. “And Jack and Candace, while successful, aren’t going to give us upward mobility.”
Trina arched an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair. “Not serious or thought-provoking enough?”
“When you’re filming a documentary, there are certain criteria you have to meet. It’s not about getting laughs or making the audience feel good or coaxing a smile. It’s about presenting information.” At Trina’s grimace, Eve added, “Look, I didn’t make the rules.”
“No, but when did you start playing by them?”
“Don’t you ever just get tired of the same old, same old?” Eve asked as she placed her elbows on her desk and stared past Trina at the wall of windows that overlooked downtown L.A.
“Sometimes, but then I visit Dr. Shapiro and we reshape something”—Trina pushed out her chest for emphasis—“and I’m back to my usual optimistic self.”
Eve grinned and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m serious. I like what I do and it’s fine for now, but I don’t want to be a sixty-year-old woman producing the adventures of Jack and Candace’s grandchildren. I want to grow as a producer. I want to reach a major network, and this documentary will help get me there.” She tapped the folder in front of her. “I’ll make great connections and, soon enough, I’ll be in a position to actually pitch a solid idea of my own. Something fun and interesting.”
“Why not cut right to the chase and pitch it now?”
“Because I don’t have a strong enough foothold yet, and I wouldn’t want HBO to pull this project and hand it over to JustforFolks.” JustforFolks, a production company that had been in the running against Sugar & Spice Sinema to make the Generation seX documentary, would have landed it if not for Jacqueline Farrel’s notoriety as a sex guru and the fact that she lent credibility to Eve. “They produce infomercials, for heaven’s sake.” She closed the folder and turned to tuck it into her briefcase. “What does selling real estate have to do with sex?”
“Well, I’ve had sex while looking at real estate before. In fact, I actually did it with my Realtor when he showed me this great little condo near Rodeo Drive.”
“That’s great, but we’ll save that for My So-Called Slutty Life.” Trina frowned and Eve added, “I beat out JustforFolks because I have experience in this department. I’m a professional, and I’m going to give them a professional product. So tell me, personal tastes aside, does it look professional?”
“Extremely.”
“Good, because I’m already behind on my schedule.”
“That wouldn’t have anything to do with one hot-looking NASCAR driver, now would it?”
Yes. “No. This has just turned out to be more involved than I imagined.” She straightened her desk to avoid looking Trina in the eyes. “I can still make the deadline and I will; I just need to step up the pace a little.”
Eve had never hesitated to talk about men with Trina before, but for some reason she didn’t feel the usual urge to spill all the details of her latest conquest.
Maybe because it wasn’t much of a conquest.
Yet.
With the subject of Linc effectively avoided, Eve turned her attention to the ad mock-ups that Trina handed her.
It was Friday.
The day before Saturday.
Which was the day before the day Eve would actually see Linc again. And touch him. And kiss him. And . . .
Her heartbeat accelerated and she drew in a shaky breath. She had a hunch what he had planned next—step two of her six steps to sexcess video. While the notion hadn’t hit her at first, the more she’d thought about his effort in bringing her cowboy fantasy to life, the more she’d come to the conclusion that he intended to follow the video. Which would mean he was gearing up for spontaneous sex.
She drew in another shaky breath.
She’d come so close on Sunday, and she had no doubt she would go all the way the next time. Which meant, of course, that she could get him out of her system once and for all, which was the entire point. Then it would be hello, focus and good-bye to crazy, lustful, Linc-inspired daydreams.
One Big O and Eve’s life would be back to normal.
Nothing was going according to plan.
She painted her nails and accidentally spilled her bright red polish on her living room carpet. She ran out of eyeliner mideye and found herself using a black Sharpie she found in the kitchen drawer. Her coffeemaker wouldn’t heat and she had to borrow some instant from Mr. Wilkie when he came to pick up Killer for their midday walk. At the time, Killer wouldn’t budge from the closet. No matter how much Eve pushed and pulled at the animal, she didn’t want to move. Even worse, when she did move, Eve discovered that she’d had an accident on the carpet. She couldn’t help but worry since Killer never had accidents, not since she’d been a puppy. Nor did the animal like to miss her walk. Then again, she’d been eating more lately. Maybe she was getting lazy and fat in her old age. She was eleven. On top of the dog situation, Eve’s cable dropped out when she sat down to watch Sunday’s NASCAR race.
The screen rolled and pitched while Eve tried to follow Linc as he raced the road track at Martinsville Speedway. It was the first time she’d actually sat down to watch a full-length race, but she’d been anxious to see him. Talk about rotten luck. The only thing she managed was the occasional glimpse as he raced the track right behind Jaycee Anderson in her hot pink Fit & Frisky car. Until the last ten minutes, that is. Then the screen flickered and the picture cleared. Eve fixed her attention on Linc just as the Viagra car lunged past him and sent him spinning toward the rail.
“Are you okay?” A frantic-looking Eve asked as she hauled open the door.
It was one in the morning and Linc hadn’t even had a chance to knock. She’d obviously been waiting for him.
A burst of warmth went through Linc and he barely ignored the urge to haul her into his arms and bury his face in her sweet-smelling neck. “Hello to you, too.” He moved past her and set his duffel bag inside the doorway. “I’m a little bruised up, but I’m okay. My car, on the other hand, is in pretty bad shape.” He couldn’t help his grin as reality hit him. “You watched my race.”
“Of course I watched.” As if she’d just realized what she said, she tried to look nonchalant. “Not that I meant to, but there was nothing else on.” Concern lit her eyes again as she frowned. “I can’t believe that damned Viagra. He cut you off just like that, and then he raced past Jaycee and won.”
“That’s the name of the game, sunshine.”
“That’s not what you told that reporter,” Eve said as she followed him down the hall. She proceeded to remind Linc of the choice four-letter words he’d used that the network had had to bleep out. He’d gotten his ass chewed by Danielle for that, along with a lecture about how such language could slit his throat when it came to the Bible Belt fans.
“I was pissed, all right, but more at myself for letting him get the jump on me. Now, I’m more tired than anything else.” After the race, he’d had to go over the video footage and give a play-by-play of everything he remembered to the NASCAR officials and his sponsor. And then he’d had to go over the damage done to the car with Clint and the car chief. He’d barely allowed the paramedics five minutes to give him a quick once-over to make sure he was all right.
In Eve’s bedroom, he shed his clothes and crawled under the sheets. Eve undressed and crawled in on the opposite side.
She looked so soft with her hair mussed and her face free of most of the makeup she usually wore, and suddenly he wasn’t ha
lf as tired as he was eager to be inside her again. He tamped down on the urge, gave her a rough kiss on her full lips, and rolled over.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to sleep.”
“But you can’t sleep. I mean, I know you had a really close call and all, but you’re okay. You are okay, right?”
“I’m okay, and I’m exhausted. Sweet dreams.”
“Maybe for you,” she grumbled as she rolled the other way.
Linc closed his eyes. He was really tired. Not only from the day’s events, but from sleeping in the RV for the past three nights. Cal snored so loud that he’d found himself lying awake each night long after he should have been sound asleep. He’d never noticed Cal’s snoring until he’d spent those few days sharing the RV with Eve. She hadn’t snored, but she’d made this faint wheeze with every deep breath that had driven him as crazy as the woman herself. He actually missed the sound. And the smell of her, all warm vanilla and sweet sugar.
He drew in a deep breath and the familiar scent filled his nostrils. The mattress dipped as Eve turned over and scooted closer to him. He felt the soft press of her lips on his temple, and his heart stopped for a long moment. Her arm snaked around him and he smiled, and it was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.
Eve’s initial opinion about Linc had been right: he really was an egotistical, chauvinistic jerk.
It was early May, over five weeks since the cowboy fantasy in her living room, and Linc hadn’t so much as made a move toward her.
She’d obviously been wrong to think that he in any way, shape, or form resembled a thoughtful, sensitive intellectual like her Mr. Kaboom. No way would such a man leave her hanging this long. She was nervous and on edge, and no amount of masturbating could begin to ease the frustration.
Because she didn’t want just an orgasm. She wanted one from Linc. She needed it. She tried to ignore the anticipation that built each week. A feeling that went into overdrive when she saw him race on the television. One glimpse and her insides started to ache and her heart started to pound and she actually found herself watching longer each week, until she was sitting through the entire race, pre- and post-coverage to boot. She’d watched him place fifth in the Texas 500 and come in third at Talladega Superspeedway in Alabama, and finish a close second at California Speedway—a race she’d witnessed firsthand because the track was only forty-five minutes from L.A. She’d been hopeful that the close proximity of that race would enable him to spend more time with her, but he’d been as busy as ever and had spent the days preceding the race in his RV near the track.
Sweet as Sugar, Hot as Spice Page 18