Sweet as Sugar, Hot as Spice

by Kimberly Raye

  “Don’t do this, Linc.” She blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. “Just go.”

  “Eve?” Strong, warm hands cradled her face as he searched her gaze. “Didn’t you hear me? I was a jerk and I never should have let you walk away. I did and I’m sorry. I’m here right now to prove that. I love—”

  “Don’t!” Joy rushed through her, so fierce it stirred her fear and panic. She pushed his hands away and gave a furious shake of her head. “Don’t make this any harder. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over. I love you and I know you love me.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t know what I feel. You hardly know me.” The tears spilled over. “You wouldn’t know me at all if the situation had been different and you hadn’t been desperate to lose your election. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day, and I wouldn’t have given you the time of day. We don’t have time to build a relationship.”

  “We already have one. We’re married.”

  “It’s not real.”

  “Isn’t it?” Fierce blue eyes drilled into hers. “Isn’t marriage about being with the person you love? Well, I love you and I want to be with you. You’re the most exasperating woman, but I want you anyway.”

  “Well, I don’t want you.” She forced the words out. She wouldn’t let him throw his career away on account of her, because then he would only end up resenting her the way his father had resented his grandfather. “I’m filing for divorce. So you might as well turn around and get yourself back to the track before it’s too late.”

  “Divorce?” He looked as if she’d smacked him across the face.

  “That was the plan in the first place, wasn’t it? We make it to November and then we split. So go.” She shoved at his chest. “Now.”

  “Things change. I’ve changed.”

  “But I haven’t. I’m the same person I was then, Linc. I dress the same and look the same and I want the same things. I can’t just change my entire plan because you say you love me.”

  “How about because you love me?”

  She shook her head “I still won’t change it.”

  But in all honesty, she feared that she would. It would be so easy to give in to the emotion gripping her heart, to throw herself into his arms and forget all about her own hopes and dreams—everything but Linc and the way he made her feel—and beg him to stay. To miss his race.

  Too easy.

  “I’m not sacrificing my career. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point, and I want more. I want to go all the way to the top, and that won’t happen unless I buckle under now. There’s no room for you.”

  “You’re right,” he finally said after a long moment.

  The words bothered her a lot more than they should have.

  “It would never work between us because you won’t let it work between us. You’re scared.”

  “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Not of me, baby.” His voice softened. “You’re scared of yourself. You’ve spent your entire life trying to convince everyone you’re the opposite of your mother. But truth be known, you’re just like her.”

  She clung to the sudden anger his words stirred and ignored the truth churning in her gut. “I am not.”

  “You’re afraid of commitment.”

  “I am not. Just because I have certain plans for my life doesn’t mean I’m afraid to commit.”

  “That’s exactly what it means. Your plans are for shit, just like your Mr. Kaboom is for shit. You’ll never find a man who meets all your requirements, which is the point itself. You can pretend that you’re open to marriage with the right man, but since he can’t possibly come along, then you don’t have to put your money where your mouth is.” He shook his head. “Don’t you know that it’s not about finding the right guy? It’s about taking a chance on him. Trusting him.”

  Before she could tell him he was even more delusional than her great-uncle Eustess, who stuck green beans in his nose and pretended to be a walrus, Linc leaned down, kissed her roughly on the lips, and then he walked away.

  Eve stared at the closed door, her hands trembling and her heart pounding, and barely ignored the urge to go after him. She wouldn’t because she wanted him to make the race in Atlanta. Even more, she was right. It would never work between them right now. They would each have to give up too much and, in turn, it would undoubtedly lead to resentment later on. She didn’t want him to end up resenting her, and she didn’t want to resent him. Letting him go was the right thing to do. So why did it suddenly feel so wrong?

  Wiping frantically at a flood of hot tears, Eve steeled herself and turned toward her living room. She had to finish the final episode if she intended to stay on schedule and meet next month’s deadline and she wasn’t going to get any of it done standing around, crying her eyes out like some idiot. She had to get busy. To get back into her groove. To focus.

  Unfortunately, the only thing Eve could seem to focus on the rest of the afternoon was the television and the season finale Napa 400, which Jaycee Anderson won in a record-breaking race that undoubtedly had Womanists the world over burning their bras in tribute. She didn’t win the overall Cup because her point standing wasn’t high enough, but it was a sweet victory nonetheless. The Nextel Cup went to the damned Viagra driver thanks to Linc Adams and the fact that he’d forfeited everything just to come to L.A. and declare his feelings for Eve. He hadn’t hopped a plane back to Atlanta to make the race.

  Instead, he’d blown everything in the name of love.

  Delusional? He was just plain crazy. The exhaust fumes had finally killed off the majority of his brain cells because he would surely regret it tomorrow.

  Chapter 22

  She was not like her mother.

  Eve told herself that over the next several weeks as she stopped crying and started to get mad. Linc Adams had a hell of a nerve telling her she was just like her mother.

  She was the polar opposite. She looked different and acted different and she was totally open and receptive to the entire concept of marriage and love and happily ever after.

  So that’s why you’re sitting here on a Saturday night with your computer?

  Her gaze shifted to the woman seated across the table from her. While Eve’s father had been disappointed with her breakup, her mother had been thrilled and further justified in her firm stand against marriage. She’d started visiting more frequently to bond with her newly single daughter. Tonight, she’d shown up to talk and Eve had been too depressed to shock her into leaving. So they’d both wound up eating grilled cheese sandwiches before pulling out their laptops to work. Same brand, as a matter of fact. Same make and model. Same color—black rather than silver.

  Eve forced her attention back to her own screen. She stared at the final cuts on the final boring segment of her documentary and the truth crystallized.

  Linc was right. She was her mother. She might walk and talk and act differently thanks to a lifetime of training, but deep down, she was the same.

  “Why, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

  On the inside, as well as the outside.

  Deep down, she was just as stubborn and as headstrong, and just as terrified to let a man, even a man she loved, close to her.

  So terrified, in fact, that she was going through the motions on her project just as her mother would have done—with a serious, thoughtful, boring take on what should have been a fun subject. She feared disappointing the network and killing her future in cable television. Even more, she feared trusting her own instincts. Better to play it safe than take a chance and risk having her dreams crushed.

  Likewise, she’d let the only man she’d ever loved walk away from her without so much as a word edgewise. Better to let him walk away than risk a failed relationship.

  A failed relationship would confirm her greatest fear—that the Holy Commitment Trinity provided the only recipe for long-term success. While she and Linc had great sex and mutual respect, they didn’t ha
ve any shared interests. They were polar opposites, in fact, from their upbringings to their professions, to the way they squeezed a tube of toothpaste—Linc from the bottom up while Eve was strictly a middle-type of gal.

  All or nothing.

  But her mother had all three in her own relationship, and it still wasn’t enough to ensure longevity.

  Eve closed her eyes as the truth crystallized. The only real recipe for success was trust. Without it, even the Holy Commitment Trinity couldn’t endure. Trust was the foundation that the three were built on, and love was the glue that held it all together. Her mother refused to trust her father, and so her own relationship had crumbled.

  Her mind rushed back to the delivery room and the way Skye had stared into Clint’s eyes and he’d reassured her that she could do it. She’d believed him because she trusted him. Just as Xandra trusted Beau.

  But Eve refused to trust Linc, because trusting him meant giving him the power to hurt her.

  Or make her incredibly happy.

  It hadn’t seemed like a risk worth taking. Better to keep her power and control her own happiness.

  And how’s that working for you?

  It wasn’t. She had the power to control her own happiness, but there was no happiness to control. She was terribly unhappy. And lonely.

  And she was making the man she loved just as unhappy and just as lonely.

  “Why, you’re the spitting image of your mother.”

  She closed her laptop and eyed her mother. “You have to get over it, Mom.”

  “What’s that, dear?” Her mother peered at her over the rims of her glasses.

  “This thing with Grandpa. You can’t keep blaming every man for what Grandpa did to Grandma.”

  Her mother took off her glasses and turned her full attention to her daughter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re punishing Dad because Grandpa was mean to Grandma.”

  “I am doing no such thing to your father. I give him plenty of freedom and space.”

  “That’s the punishment. Don’t you miss Dad?”

  “I’d rather not talk about your father.”

  “You miss him, but you’d rather miss out on being with him because you’re afraid to get too close for fear you’ll be stuck like Grandma. Meanwhile, you’re punishing Dad. You’re hurting him.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “It’s true. I know because I’m doing the same thing.” She shook her head. “I kissed off Linc for the sake of my career. But it’s really not my career that’s at stake. It’s my heart. All this time, I’ve convinced myself that I’ve been afraid to hurt him the way you hurt Dad, when the thing I’ve really been terrified of is getting hurt. Trusting Linc means giving him the power to hurt me.” Her gaze met her mother’s. “Or make me the happiest woman alive.”

  “You should make yourself happy first.”

  “Being with Linc makes me happy. Loving him makes me happy.” She shook her head. “I’ve totally screwed up my whole life and lost the one thing important to me because I’m afraid to trust him.”

  On top of that, she was totally screwing her career because she refused to trust herself. She was this close to turning in a documentary that would put even the most boring person to sleep. It had no personality. No oomph. No Eve.

  No more.

  Her gaze shifted to the rap Betsy had handed her at the fund-raising dinner and an idea struck. At the moment, she wasn’t sure how to go about fixing things with Linc. Or if it was even possible.

  But she could be true to herself when it came to her project.

  “I am not afraid to trust,” Jacqueline finally declared after the lunch dishes had been cleared and the coffee served the next afternoon. She’d invited her mother to lunch at a small bistro on Rodeo Drive to talk some sense into her regarding the orgasm quest. Instead, she’d spent most of the time eating and thinking about what Eve had said to her. “And I most certainly am not afraid of marriage.”

  “Come again, dear?” Ruella paused, coffee cup in hand.

  “I simply don’t like marriage. Therefore, I choose not to get married. There’s a big difference between being afraid and making a life choice. Why did you marry my father?”

  “Because my parents insisted, you know that. I was pregnant and they didn’t want the embarrasment.”

  “Exactly.” Jacqueline took a long sip of her coffee. “You would never have married my father if you had had a choice in the matter.”

  “Actually,” she said after a silent moment, “I would have.”

  “What?”

  Ruella shrugged. “Marriage was my dream. Heavens, it was the dream of most girls my age. Sure, a few had aspirations of becoming teachers and nurses, but for the most part, those were unreachable expectations to someone like me. I had never been very good in school and so college wasn’t even a consideration. Not to mention, my family didn’t have much money. For me, it was all about having a family of my own. Your father seemed like a good enough person to do so with, otherwise, I never would have slept with him. So if he had asked me and I hadn’t been pregnant, yes, I would have agreed without any coercion. I didn’t realize what sort of man he was until it was too late.”

  “And then you were stuck because of a piece of paper.” Jacqueline motioned to the waiter for a refill before meeting her mother’s gaze.

  Ruella’s eyes glittered with a sad light. “I was stuck because I didn’t have the courage to leave.” She touched Jacqueline’s hand. “I should have, but I simply couldn’t.”

  “Out of fear for your life.”

  “Out of fear of being alone.” She gave Jacqueline’s hand a final pat before pulling away. “My parents wouldn’t have taken me back into their home, so I would have been on my own, and I just didn’t think I could do it. I was a coward. A weak, stupid coward.” She closed her eyes for a long moment as she cradled her coffee cup. “But we all have to face our fears sooner or later,” she said when she finally opened her eyes. “I refused to face mine, so the Powers That Be took the choice out of my hands. Your father died and suddenly, I was on my own.” She smiled. “But you know what? It wasn’t nearly as bad as what I had feared.”

  “What are you saying, Mother?”

  “That you can’t live your life being afraid. Donovan is a good man. A patient man. A loving man. He’s not your father. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. Don’t wait until it’s too late and you’re too old to make up for lost time.”

  “I take it the orgasm quest isn’t going as planned?”

  “I’ve had more excitement watching the National Chess Classic.”

  “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

  “And maybe I’m just too old.”

  “Nonsense. You’re an exciting, vibrant woman. What’s more, you’re strong, Mother.” Her gaze locked with Ruella’s and she saw the doubt swimming in the older woman’s eyes. “I know all the things that my father used to say to you, about you, but he was wrong, Mother. You’re strong and brave and beautiful, and any man would be lucky to have the chance to give you an orgasm.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so.” At that moment, her cell phone rang. It was Alexis, undoubtedly eager to know why she wasn’t at the studio. She stood and reached for her briefcase. “Speaking of orgasms, I’ve got a production meeting in fifteen minutes for tomorrow’s show on the newest sex toys for women—we’re featuring Xandra’s company—so I have to run. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “So you’re going to stop all this nonsense and come back to the apartment?”

  “Let’s hope.”

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  The realization sank in as Ruella stared at Harvey Wallcrest, the latest in her orgasm search. He sat in the living room, his eyes closed, a snore flaring his nostrils. She’d left him to retrieve a platter of strawberries, chocolate sauce, and sugar-free whipped cream. He’d been cute and charming and she’d actually felt her pulse flutter
when he’d kissed her hand.

  But now he was sleeping.

  “You’re strong and brave and beautiful, and any man would be lucky to have the chance to give you an orgasm.”

  Jacqueline’s words echoed in Ruella’s ears and where she’d told herself as much the past few months, she’d never actually believed it until she’d heard her daughter say the words and truly mean them.

  She eyed Harvey and frowned.

  She knew she looked nice for her age. She’d highlighted her silvery hair and had it cut into a stylish bob that swayed when she walked. And she wore her new burnt orange pantsuit, complete with matching lipstick—a color guaranteed to light any man’s fire.

  Any man under the age of seventy-five.

  It was Harvey. He was the dud.

  Suddenly Ruella wasn’t half as worried about having an orgasm with a man as she was about having a bad orgasm. Maybe fantasizing about wild, hot passionate sex wasn’t all that bad a thing. Not at her age.

  “Harvey.” She tapped his shoulder. “Wake up.”

  “Are we doing it yet?”

  “Not yet.” Not ever.

  The quest was over and Ruella Farrel was going home.

  “Okay,” came the familiar female voice when Donovan Martin picked up the telephone and said hello.

  “Who is this?”

  “The Queen of England. Who do you think it is?”

  “Hello to you, too, Jacqueline. I would love to talk, but I’m going to a seminar at the University of California. It’s a special presentation on redwood trees and the threat to their survival. Maybe we can chat later—”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I said okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “You know what.”

  “It’s been so long. I’m not so sure that I do.”

  “I’ll . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll . . . marry you,” she finally finished. “There. You get your way.”