Читать книгу It's All About Eve - Tracy Kelleher - Страница 12

EVE WAS GOING TO EAT TWO pieces. But there was something about drippy cheese and oregano, and just sitting and talking with a really cute guy that whetted the appetite. How many men actually admitted—albeit sheepishly—that they knew all the lyrics to the Sound of Music?

So she managed to stop at three.

Carter had five. And it didn’t look like his waist—definitely flat and not a love handle in sight—had anything to worry about.

“So how do you like Grantham?” Carter asked, after she mentioned moving to town only three months ago.

“It’s a beautiful place, but different—that’s for sure. I mean, how many towns can boast that they give Nobel Prize winners parking tickets?”

The corner of Carter’s mouth turned up, producing that sexy little dimple. “On the other hand, you don’t have any parking tickets.”

Eve pulled back, surprised. “You checked?”

“You lodged a complaint. It’s all part of the routine.”

“So other than my life according to the police blotter, the DMV and the Better Business Bureau, what else do you know about me?”

“That you moved from Poughkeepsie and you’re single.”

She sat up straight. She found she was mildly annoyed and not sure why. “So you figured out I come from the land of vinyl siding and dine on Healthy Choice frozen dinners?”

“Hey, I come from Dayton, Ohio and I’m a whiz with the microwave, too. You’ve got nothing on me. Not everyone who lives in Grantham was born to the manor with a dedicated staff ready to whip up a crème brulée at a moment’s notice.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

He waved off her apology.

No, but she was, sorry, that is. She was also nervous as hell. And attracted to him like crazy. And she couldn’t stop dwelling on the fact that he had mentioned she was single.

“You know—” He scratched at the label on his beer bottle, then looked at hers. “You want another?”

She shook her head. “I’ve had plenty. But you were saying…”

“Yeah, I was saying—” he paused in thought or indecision, Eve wasn’t quite sure which “—that, um, if we started to probe further—” the word “probe” leapt out in Eve’s mind “—we’d probably find we have more in common than merely an intimate knowledge of the frozen-food aisle.”

She cocked one eyebrow. “You think?” She wondered where this was going.

He took a sip of beer and wet his lips. Very nice, full lips, Eve noticed. “I’m pretty sure if we questioned each other, we’d find that to be the case.”

“Really? And you’ve figured this out because of some great intuitive powers or something similar?”

He shrugged. “Call it a cop’s instincts.” She looked dubious. “I tell you what, I’m so sure that I’m willing to make a friendly wager.” He held up his hand before she could protest. “Let’s say, we ask each other questions. How about a total of six? That’s a nice round number—not too many as to cause confusion, but sufficient enough to flesh out the facts. You have to admit that sounds fair, right?” Carter asked.

Eve thought that fair was a relative term here.

“And if we agree on all six, why—” a lazy smile stretched across Carter’s lips “—I get to collect.”

Now she was really dubious. “And what exactly are you planning on collecting?”

He paused. “A kiss.”

Eve raised her eyebrows and blinked ever so slowly. “A kiss? As in on the lips?”

Carter thought a moment. He really didn’t need to. “As in on the lips.”

“What about Simone?” she asked.

“What about Simone?”

“You don’t think she’d mind?”

“I think you’ve misjudged our relationship.”

Had she? Eve wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not. Either way, the tingle in her throat just kicked into a higher gear.

“So, care to take me up on it?” he asked.

Eve thought a moment. She really didn’t need to. She nodded carefully. “Okay, but no hands either.”

“No hands? Any particular reason?”

“Just think of it as my contribution to the bet,” she answered. That, and a matter of self-preservation. She could already imagine how it would feel to have Carter’s hands running up and down her back. She set her mouth and looked at him with her best poker face.

He stared back, unfazed. Never try to draw an inside straight against this guy, she thought. “All right. You’re on,” Carter said, pushing his beer aside. “But I get to start.” Clearly the man played to win.

Well, she wasn’t exactly a pushover. Eve sat up extremely straight, arching her back strategically. Then she slowly rolled her neck a couple of times and looked over. His eyes were transfixed on her actions. She smiled—all innocence. “I’m ready.”

Carter cleared his throat. “All right. We’ll start with an easy one. Do you take your coffee black or with cream and sugar?”

“Milk. No sugar.”

He nodded.

“You, too?”

He nodded again.

Eve rolled one shoulder. It produced an immediate reaction on his part. It was almost too easy. “As you said, that was an easy one. Now my turn.” She thought. “Harpo, Chico or Groucho?”

“Harpo.”

Eve frowned. “I was sure you’d say Groucho.”

“Nah, I always liked Harpo’s horn.” So did Eve.

“I take it you agree?” he asked. Eve nodded. “My turn then.” Carter narrowed his eyes. “Gel or paste?”

Eve scrunched her forehead.

“Toothpaste,” he clarified.

“Oh-h. Definitely gel, cool mint. And you?” He flashed a toothy grin. “I see I have a fellow believer.” She leaned forward. “Now we get to the real nitty-gritty. Window open or shut?”

“When sleeping you mean?”

Eve nodded.

Carter frowned. “Depends on the season.”

“I see. A relativist.”

“Whatever you say. And you?”

“The same,” she said reluctantly, puckering her lips. She was supposed to be pouting, but since she had never had the time or the inclination to pout before, it looked more like she was making a fish-face.

Carter leaned toward her and whispered, “You’re making a fish-face.”

Eve cleared her throat. “I believe it’s your turn, unless you want to call off the wager?”

Carter gave her a noble profile, complete with square chin and resolute stare. “Never. Especially when it’s just getting interesting.”

“Please.” Eve rolled her eyes.

He put his elbows on the bar and leaned toward her. “Left side or right?”

That had her wondering.

“Of the bed? Which side? Left or right?” He raised his chin to look down through slightly slitted eyes.

She didn’t flinch. Though it took a superhuman amount of self-control just to remember to exhale. “Looking at the bed or in it?” she mustered with the aplomb of a French Foreign Legion officer facing the firing squad. The analogy wasn’t bad either.

“Looking at it for now. We’ll deal with in it in a moment.” He leaned closer on his forearm.

“Oh.” Eve gulped. Moments like these she wished she smoked. Barring that, maybe she would have another slice of pizza after all. “Let me see.” She did a mental check of her sleeping position. “Right side, I guess, though, I tend to hog the middle. And you?”

“I’m a left side person myself.”

“Ah, hah. We are different,” she said triumphantly.

He held up his hand. “No, complementary.”

She looked confused. “There’s a difference?”

“A big difference.” He paused. “And I find that sorting out possession of the middle of the bed can actually be a highlight—given the right circumstances.” He looked down his eyelashes, very long, thick lashes.

Eve tried not to squirm.

“Naked or clothed?”

She gulped. “Wait a minute. Isn’t it my turn?”

“This is a two-parter.”

“Since when do we have two-parters?” she protested.

“All’s fair.” He shrugged, unperturbed.

Eve quickly did the mental math. “But that makes six questions in all.”

“Naked or clothed?” He didn’t back down.

If she answered the question, they’d complete the terms of the bet. She hedged. “I own a lingerie shop. What do you think?”

Eve really wished she had asked for another beer. She could have used something hard to grab on to. She shook her head. No, banish that thought. Hard was definitely not where her brain should be going right now. She swallowed with difficulty. “I tell you what. You answer first.”

He smiled, feeling pretty confident. “All right. But what do you think?”

She looked at him. Those terrific emerald eyes had turned a darker shade—a verdant, forest-primeval green. She felt like she had stumbled into uncharted territory. Eve inhaled deeply. “Naked. You definitely sleep naked.”

“Correct,” he said softly. “Now your turn.” His voice was barely a rumble.

Eve’s insides were in shambles. She looked around. And saw Dave heading their way to check on things. Thank God. She turned to Carter. “Did you want any more? Otherwise I think it’s time I got out of this bathing suit.”

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think you can wriggle out of it that easily. To quote a famous baseball sage—a Yankee, I might add—‘the game’s not over until it’s over.”’

“I think Dave’s waiting.” She pointed to the bartender.

Carter crossed his arms. “Don’t think this means we won’t settle up—at the right time.” It didn’t sound like an idle threat. He looked at the remaining slice. “I’ve had enough, thanks, unless you want more?”

Eve patted her stomach. “If I had any more, I’d burst.”

“You sure? I’m asking purely in the interests of science.”

Eve gave him a long-suffering look. “Please, Dave, take it away.” She pushed the pizza in his direction.

Dave scooped up the tray in one hand and the empty bottles in the other. “I’ll wrap up the leftovers for the dog and be back with the check.”

“You have a dog?” It was the first she’d heard of it.

“No, a friend does.”

“Oh.” And she was pretty sure that friend was Simone. Maybe she hadn’t misjudged the relationship? A guy, a dog, leftover pizza and a camisole. She could picture it now. The giddiness of a few minutes ago suddenly vanished. She made a show of following the ball game, even though the outcome was already a foregone conclusion.

Dave returned a few minutes later. Eve reached for the check. “Here, let me.” Paying the tab might help to erase her guilt at poaching another woman’s man.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Carter signaled the bartender with his index finger.

“No, I insist.” Eve bent down to reach the nylon satchel at her feet and set it on the counter. She pulled out a beach towel, a racing cap, goggles, a glasses case, sunscreen.

Carter eyed the growing pile. “I see you like to travel light.”

Eve found a tortoiseshell barrette. “So that’s where that disappeared to.” She stuck her nose back in the bag and foraged some more. “Ah hah!” She held a black wallet aloft.

Dave looked at the small mound in front of Eve. “You planning a garage sale or something?”

“Or something. Here, I’ll take that.” Eve motioned to the bill in his hand.

“No, it’s my treat,” Carter countered and took the bill from Dave.

“That’s crazy.” She looked at Carter and realized immediately he wasn’t going to budge. “Well, at least let’s split it.” She held her hand up. “Let’s see the total.”

“Please, Phillies fans never go halvesies.” He held the check tight to his chest.

“Halvesies? You sound like you’re playing jacks.” She waggled her fingers toward the bill.

“Jacks? Are you questioning my manhood?”

No, there was no question about his manhood. Eve hesitated. What was really at stake here? Twenty bucks? Her pride? Her sense of guilt? Not to mention an unresolved wager. “Well, if you put it that way.” The check was the least of her worries. “Thanks.”

Carter turned to Dave and handed him some bills. “Keep the change.”

Eve slipped down off the stool and scooped everything into her bag, careful to retrieve her glasses and put them in the case. She stood for a moment, watching Carter fish his keys out of his shorts and stand up. This was it—the end to her evening with Carter Moran. He stepped forward. She cleared her throat. “Well, thanks again.” She turned to head for the front door.

“Ah, Eve?”

She swiveled around.

“It’s getting dark. I’ll walk you across the street to the pool parking lot.” He grabbed the pizza box off the bar.

“No, that’s all right. I walked.”

“Then I’ll give you a lift. I’m parked out back.” Carter pointed with his thumb toward the door at the rear of the bar. His green eyes beckoned.

And Eve wondered why this seriously sexy man was offering to drive her home, rather than rushing back to a beautiful woman with a brand-new sheer camisole. Maybe it was just the Good Samaritan attitude that went along with being a small-town cop? It must be hell on a love life, she thought. “You sure it’s not out of your way?” Even though the sun was going down, it would still be a hot mile-or-so walk home.

“I live in town, too, so it’s no big deal.”

“You sure? First a free meal. Now a ride. I’m overwhelmed.” She fell in step as they walked to the exit.

“Don’t be so hasty. You haven’t seen my car.” Carter held open the back door.

She felt the temperature difference as soon they stepped outside. From arctic air-conditioning, they’d entered a tropical soup. She wiped the beads of sweat that instantly formed on her forehead. “If it’s got four wheels and air conditioning, I’ll take it.”

“On a good day I can guarantee the four wheels.” Carter stopped in front of a decrepit Toyota truck.

Eve dubiously surveyed the vehicle. She thought it was red, but given the rust, she wasn’t sure. It looked as if duct tape and supreme intervention were the only things holding the bumper to the front end. “I take it this is not an official cop car.” She gingerly pushed down on the handle to the passenger-side door. Nothing happened.

“It’s this cop’s car. And give it a good yank,” he said as he bounded into the driver’s side.

Eve gave it a good yank. The door gave way. So did the handle. She shook her head and stepped tentatively on the running board. “Is this thing going to hold me?”

“Maybe I should have warned you to stop with two pieces of pizza.” He leaned over and scooped a copy of the New York Times and a cell phone off the seat. He threw them in the bed of the truck, which was covered by a white truck cap.

Eve looked at the cracked seat. “Do I need to get shots before entering?” She clambered up and looked for the seatbelt shoulder strap. She wasn’t taking any chances.

“Hold this on your lap, would you?” He passed her the pizza box.

Eve scrunched her face at the thick layer of dust covering the dashboard. “I can see why you don’t want to put it on any available surface.” She gave him the door handle in exchange for the box.

He threw it in the back along with the newspaper and the cell phone.

Eve turned around, but decided not to investigate too closely. “Handy filing system you got there.”

Carter put his keys in the ignition and stopped. “On second thought. Hand over the pizza.” She did. He tossed it in the back where it thudded silently. “There. It’s now filed under ‘B.”’

She was confused. “‘B’? I would have thought ‘P’ for pizza.”

He turned and grinned at her sideways. “‘B’ for ‘bet.’ And I think it’s time I collected.”