Flat Out Sexy

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“I’m sorry you lost your purse,” Elec said. “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.” Tamara 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 name 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 any more.” 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. 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. “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, that 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. 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.