Flat-Out Sexy(53)

He poured all of his love, all of his happiness, into that kiss, and she responded in kind, sighing against him.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

"And I'm glad you said yes because I was going to have a hard time  explaining this to the world if you said no." Tamara held up her wrist  and turned it so he could see the inside of it.

It was a tattoo, just like his: 56. Elec lightly touched the brand-new, red, and raw tattoo.

"You got my car number?" He was amazed she would do that. Thrilled. It  screamed permanency and commitment to him and he loved the sound of  that.



"Yes. I have to keep Briggs as a last name because of the kids, so I'll  be Tamara Briggs-Monroe. But I wanted a way to show you I love you and  back you one hundred percent.

That I'm Elec Monroe's wife." She crossed her wrist over his. "And I got  the left hand so that when we hold hands, the numbers align."                       
       
           



       

He could honestly say that having his car number tattooed on Tamara was  the sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life. "My number looks damn  good on you."

She laughed and snuggled against him carefully, obviously trying not to  jar his ribs. "I never saw myself as one to get a tattoo, but it seemed  right. And I want you to know that we'll resolve all this business with  Crystal. It won't be a big deal."

"Thank you." He kissed her temple. "So about that ring shopping? You busy tomorrow?"

Now that she was on board, he was slapping a ring on her finger, pronto.

"Not busy at all. Though you should rest."

"The hell I should." Elec took her hand and put it on his erection. "I  was sitting here thinking how we can do it with the least movement  possible."

Tamara laughed. "You're ridiculous."

"No. Turned on and in love." He grinned at her.

She smiled back. "Me, too. And I like it."





EPILOGUE


IMOGEN Wilson could honestly say she'd never been to a wedding in  Manhattan where the groom arrived in a decaled race car. But she was in  Charlotte now, and no one had seemed to blink when Elec Monroe had slid  out of the window of his car in his tux at the church.

Nor did anyone seem to think it was strange that the car had been driven  to the outdoor reception location and the entire wedding party was  having pictures taken in the car, on the car, and around the car.  Tamara's daughter Hunter was standing on the hood in her satin and  chiffon red flower girl dress, posing first demurely, then using her  floral bouquet like it was a guitar. Elec jumped up on the hood with her  and picked her up and held her over his head like she was a trophy  while she shrieked with laughter.

Imogen thought it was great to attend a wedding where everyone was  having fun, no one was stressed out, and the bride and groom were  beaming with pleasure. Most weddings in her opinion tended to be uptight  and overplanned. Tamara and Elec's wedding was more like a big party.

Not that Imogen was partying. She was standing next to the tent pole  watching the picture taking and sipping from a glass of champagne. She  didn't know a lot of people at the wedding and she was relegated to  either chatting up strangers or just watching, and for the moment she  was content to just watch. Tamara's son Petey was standing in his tux  holding an empty glass under the stream of the flowing chocolate  fountain, and Imogen grinned when he looked up, spotted her, and put his  fingers to his lips to indicate he didn't want her to tell anyone. She  gave him the thumbs-up to let him know she wouldn't rat him out.

Though she suspected no one would care. It was a go-with-the-flow day, a celebration of Tamara and Elec's love and marriage.

The photographer was taking shots of the newlyweds' matching tattoos  when Imogen realized someone was standing directly behind her. She  turned and saw it was Ty McCordle. Her heart immediately started to  race, and she was annoyed by the reaction.

There was truly no reason for her sizzling sexual attraction to him.  Granted, he was good-looking, but beyond that, they couldn't possibly  have anything in common. Yet she was decidedly aware of the desire to  see him naked.

"Hey, Emma Jean," he said with a grin.

"Hi," she said, not sure if he was calling her that to tease her or if  he really couldn't remember her name. "Shouldn't you be in the  pictures?"

Ty was pulling his tie off. "I've been released. They're doing solo and  family shots now, thank God. Now I can grab a beer and some food. I'm  starving."

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that, or if he really  required a response, so she just said, "Elec and Tamara seem really  happy."

He nodded. "Some people are the marrying kind, others aren't. Those two  will have a good long run, no doubt." Then he glanced over at her and  grinned. "What about you, Emma Jean? You the marrying kind?"

Like he was actually interested in her response. But she answered truthfully. "I don't know.

As of right now, I haven't met anyone I'd be interested in being married to, but that doesn't mean I'm opposed to it."

"I should have known you'd give a careful answer."

Imogen frowned. What was that supposed to mean?

Ty added, "Me, I'm not ever getting married."

"For which your future ex-wife is grateful," she said before she could stop herself.

He laughed loudly. "No doubt."

Imogen spotted a thin, surgically enhanced blonde waving and pouting  when she couldn't get Ty's attention. "I think your girlfriend wants  you."                       
       
           



       

Ty flicked a casual wave in the girl's direction. "Girlfriend is too strong of a word for Nikki."

Imogen thought the term was actually booty call, but she wouldn't swear  to it. It seemed like a strictly booty-call relationship wouldn't have  you taking the woman to a friend's wedding, but she could be wrong.  Having never had anything even remotely close to a booty call or a  fling, she couldn't be sure of the parameters.

"Well, whoever she is, she wants your attention."

"Guess I should see what she wants."

"Guess you should."

Imogen watched Ty saunter away and wished she weren't so intrigued by  the tightness of his backside. It irritated her when she couldn't  control her emotions.

Ryder Jefferson had jumped onto the hood of the car and uncorked a bottle of champagne.

"Everyone raise a glass for Tammy and Elec!"

Tamara and Elec were snuggling in front of the car, and Imogen saw that  Tamara was just beaming with happiness. It was wonderful to see, yet it  reminded her of her own loneliness.

Shaking the feeling off, she raised her glass, too.

Ryder said, "Here's to life and love in the fast lane."

Imogen would drink to that.



Turn the page for a preview of

the next contemporary romance

by Erin McCarthy

Hard and Fast

Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!

"OH my God, run!"



Imogen Wilson had her shoulder nearly dislocated from its socket when  her friend Tamara yanked her arm, trying to drag her down the hallway.  Stumbling to keep up with Tamara and their other friend Suzanne, Imogen  glanced behind her to see why they needed to sprint, worried about a  herd of angry race fans, fire, or a sudden act of terrorism in the  speedway.

What she saw was worse.

It was Nikki Borden. Twenty-two years old. Bouncy. Bubbly. Blond. Built  like Barbie, thanks to Nikki's campaign of personal starvation and the  assistance of breast implants and lip injections. She was definitely a  beautiful girl by most male standards, and Imogen knew Nikki worked hard  to maintain her appearance. Unfortunately, it seemed to be at the  expense of nurturing her mind. The few times Imogen had tried to have a  conversation with her, she had been left wondering if there were  residual effects of the excessive use of hair dye because there was a  whole lot of nothing going on in that girl's head.

None of which would bother Imogen, per se, except that Nikki was dating  Ty McCordle, the stock car driver Imogen was inexplicably attracted to.

"Don't turn around," Tamara said to Imogen, horrified. "She'll see us!"

"Damn," Suzanne said. "Too late."

Nikki was waving to them with a big smile, and Imogen stifled a groan.  She did not want to spend her time at the racetrack trying to make small  talk with Nikki, and it was her fault they were going to have to be  polite. She should have just run and asked questions later, but that  wasn't her personality. She always had to know what was going on, and it  was highly likely her curiosity would be the death of her someday.  Today it was going to result in fending insults from Nikki, who seemed  to think it was her duty in the name of friendship to inform Imogen of  all her physical flaws.