Flat-Out Sexy(25)

       

"Umm. Well." Lord, Tamara was awful at lying.

"I gave Tamara a neck and shoulders massage and her headache is much  better," Elec said, casually dropping into his empty chair next to  Nikki.

"Yeah, it's much better." Tamara took her seat, feeling heat in her cheeks and the weight of Suzanne's curious stare.

"Can you pass me the wine?" Nikki asked Elec. "I want to see how many calories are in it."

"Sure." Elec handed her the bottle.

Nikki wrinkled her nose at Elec. "You smell like balloons. Like . . . what is that stuff they make balloons from?"

"Latex," Ty said, struggling to contain a grin.

"Yeah, you smell like latex. Why?"

Tamara was going to die. She was going to slide down off her chair and collapse in a puddle under Ryder's dining room table.

"They were practicing safe massage technique," Ryder said.

"Oh." Nikki's brow furrowed.

"Can I have that pie server sitting next to you, Elec?" Suzanne asked.

Tamara loved her best friend more at that moment than possibly any other. "You made pie?

That's awesome, I can't wait to have a piece."

"I can't wait to have a piece of Suzanne's pie either," Ryder said, with  a tone that made it clear he hadn't left the subject of sex behind.

"Sure, Suzanne," Elec said, looking like he intended to just ignore all  the innuendos and brazen right through the party. He handed her the pie  server.

"Did you wash your hands?" Ty asked, eyeing the server exchange.

Oh. My. God.

Elec glared at Ty. "Yes."

Tamara could vouch that he had since she'd seen him do it post-condom  removal, but if she said anything, it would be like confessing there was  a reason he needed to wash his hands so she kept her lips clamped shut.

"Because you know, I'm just thinking that maybe you shouldn't be touching the utensils . .

." Ty said.



Suzanne dropped the pie server, leaned clear across the table, and  picked up a knife that was lying unused next to Nikki's plate of  lettuce.

"But now you've touched the pie server," Ryder pointed out to her.

To which Suzanne turned, picked up the pie, and slammed it straight into Ryder's face.

"That's the last pie you're ever getting from me," she said, sounding thoroughly satisfied.

Tamara figured maybe it was time to call the victory properly celebrated and head on home.

"Well, thanks for a lovely evening," she said, shoving back her chair  and standing, while Ty laughed hysterically and Ryder swiped chunks of  apple and piecrust off his face.

"Congrats again, boys, on a fabulous one-two-three finish.

"Call me," she said to the room at large, hoping Suzanne and Elec-the  two she actually wanted to contact her-would figure out she meant them.

But of course it was Nikki who answered. "I don't have your number," she said.

"Well, Ty has it," Tamara said, not ever wanting to engage in any sort  of phone conversation with Nikki, but not wanting to be rude either.

She gave a seething Suzanne a half-hug, then got the hell out of there.

Tamara was in her car putting the key in the ignition when her cell phone beeped to indicate a text message.

It was from Elec.



I think we're the only two to walk away from this dinner satisfied.



Tamara laughed. He had a point. She texted him back.



I agree. ?



She was pulling out when he responded so she paused at the bottom of the driveway and read it.



I'm glad you had a headache.



If that was the end result, she was going to be faking a lot of headaches in Elec's presence.





CHAPTER EIGHT


BY the following Monday afternoon, Tamara didn't need to fake a headache. She had the real thing again.

The day after the dinner party, she'd gotten a call from Petey's school  saying that he was running a fever, and by Wednesday, it had been clear  he had the chicken pox. She had spent almost a week solid with a cranky,  itchy kid who, while still unable to go back to school, was to the  point of boredom. And now Hunter was in the fever phase, and Tamara  expected pox to appear at any given second.

Tamara was exhausted, stir-crazy, and nervously eyeing the number of  sick days she had left at work. Her mother-in-law had stayed with Petey  three days the previous week, but she was serving jury duty this week  and wasn't going to be able to watch the kids at all. Tamara had lined  up her father-in-law for watching Hunter at the end of the week, hoping  Petey would be back in school by then and Hunter would be past the worst  of it. But until then, she was on her own, which meant actually missing  two days of administering final exams at school, and she swore if she  never had to clean the tub again after yet another gooey oatmeal bath,  she would die a happy woman.                       
       
           



       

Calling Elec that morning to cancel had been depressing as hell, even if  he had been understanding about it. She could really, really appreciate  someone cooking her dinner at the moment since she was about to OD on  peanut butter and jelly. Not to mention, she could use the neck and head  massage, along with whatever might happen to come after that in the  form of nudity and Elec's erection inside her.

But there was reality and there was reality. No room for anything else  in her life at the moment, and while she was worn out and experiencing  major cabin fever, she was grateful that she could be the one there  comforting her kids and soothing their itching.

Even when they could turn whining into an art form.

"I'm bored," Petey said, lolling around on the couch and tangling  himself up in his blankets. He had six DVDs scattered around him as he  was trying to make a choice for a movie, but clearly none of them  appealed in the slightest. He took a sip from the water bottle she'd  given him and made a face. "I want the purple juice, not the red. This  is gross!"

From the other couch, Hunter made little sounds of distress in her  feverish sleep, then leaned over half-asleep and threw up onto the  carpet, missing the basin set out for that purpose by a solid two feet.

Tamara loved her children. She wouldn't trade them for all of Bill  Gates's assets. She wouldn't trade them for a perfect man, a perfect  body, or eternal youth.

But was there really anything so wrong with mourning the loss of an hour  of rip-roarin', boot stompin' good sex with a hot race car driver?

She didn't think so.





"ARE you even listening to me?" Eve asked Elec impatiently.

"Not really," he told her in all honesty, forcing himself to focus on his sister across the table.

His brother Evan laughed and took a swallow of his beer. "Nobody listens to you," he told Eve.

She stuck her tongue out at both of them.

Evan threw a balled-up paper napkin at her.

Their mother put down her salad fork and gave them a once-over with a  stern look. "You know, at some point in my life, thirty years after  becoming a mother, I thought maybe my children would actually stop  behaving like children and start behaving like adults."

"He started it," Eve said, pointing to Elec.

"What did I do?" He'd only been half paying attention, too busy mourning  the loss of his date with Tamara. What could he have done?

"You're not paying attention. This isn't chitchat. It's a business  meeting to discuss your schedule for next week at Pocono." Eve sipped  her soda. "You two fail to appreciate that I rep both of you. Double the  work. I need you to cooperate." She tapped the schedule on hard copy  she had handed Elec. "Do you have any questions?"

He glanced over it. It was all standard appearances, and his sister was a  master at booking him for sponsor events and interviews around meetings  with his team, engine checks, and practice runs. "No. Looks good.  Thanks, Eve."

"You're welcome." She turned to Evan. "What about you?"



Evan was making a face at his paper. "I don't want to go to this party on the fifth," he said.

"I have plans that night."

"So cancel."

"I don't want to cancel."

They descended into an argument and Elec zoned out. He felt really bad  that Tamara was stuck in the house with a couple of sick kids. She had  sounded tired when she'd called him and said her son had been sick  almost a whole week with the chicken pox. He wanted to do something for  her, but he didn't know what.

His mother touched his knee. "What's got you so preoccupied?" she asked him, her expression curious.

His siblings were still bantering on the opposite side of the table, so  Elec asked his mother in a low voice, "Is it hard to be at home with a  couple of kids who have the chicken pox?"

Though the question clearly startled her, she didn't hesitate. "Oh,  Lord, yes. It's like hell on earth. Everyone's scratching and whiny and  oozing. The three of you fell one right after the other with it, so all  told, it was three weeks of sick kids. Why do you ask?"