she asked stupidly.
Now it was his turn to look confused. “Of course. You didn’t know that?”
She shook her head and swallowed, wondering why it felt like she’d stuffed marshmallows into her mouth. It was hot and sticky and she was having trouble getting her spit down her throat. “I thought you were on Ryder’s pit crew.”
Those soulful brown eyes—the ones that were completely responsible for her current state of nakedness—penetrated her.
Then his mouth turned up in a smile. “No kidding? Well, hell, at least I know you wanted me for me, not because I was a driver.”
Hah. If she had known he was a driver, she would have run.
Then she remembered the way his tongue had felt on her, and she knew she was lying. She totally would have stayed anyway; she just would have felt more guilt in doing it.
“What’s your last name?” she asked, thinking maybe she should have asked that a tiny bit sooner. Though she hadn’t followed racing all that closely in the last two years, so even if he had told her his name, it was possible she wouldn’t have recognized it as belonging to a rookie driver.
“Monroe.”
Oh, no. “Monroe …” That was a name she knew. Tamara sincerely hoped that he wasn’t …
“Elliot Monroe’s son.”
Yep. That’s exactly who she was hoping he wasn’t. He was just the son of one of racing’s legend drivers. His entire family was involved in the sport and the older brother Evan had been driving in the cup series when Pete had. The Monroes and the Briggses had socialized together for years before a legendary fallout the year Pete had died. Tamara remembered a particular barbeque at her in-laws’ house probably a decade ago where all the Monroes had attended, including Evan, who was her age, and their younger son, who had been a quiet, dark-eyed teenager named …
Oh my God.
It was Elec. “I know you,” she said, struck dumb. “You were at a barbeque at the Briggses a long time ago. You got drunk on pilfered beer and took your daddy’s car and did doughnuts on the front lawn.”
Elec rubbed his chin and gave a sheepish smile. “Guilty as charged. But they shouldn’t have left the beer keg unattended. It was too much a temptation for a teenage boy.”
Tamara started to think she just might faint. Dear God in heaven, she had slept with a teenager. She was a molester. She scooted back on the mattress, trying to get off the same pillow as him, put some space, any space, between them. “You were like twelve then! How old are you now? My Lord, Elec, I’m old enough to be your mother!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, not looking at all concerned that she had just done a Mrs. Robinson on him. He reached for her, touching her hip, hauling her back a little toward him. “That was more than ten years ago, I imagine. And if you’re old enough to have a twenty-six-year-old child, I’ll eat my car, part by part.”
“You’re twenty-six?” Tamara’s heart rate slowed a little. That didn’t sound quite as bad. She’d been thinking early twenties, but at least he was heading toward thirty.
“Well, almost. In a couple of months.”
“Oh my God!” She panicked and ducked under the sheet. She could not even look at him in all his sexy cuteness. It was too tempting and just so wrong . Unfortunately, diving under the sheet only forced her to confront her own nakedness as well as his. And his nakedness was a beautiful thing, all muscular and hard and hairy in the right places, with a big old morning erection. Nope, going under hadn’t been one of her better ideas.
Nor did he leave her alone under there. He actually came under, too, tenting the sheet with his left hand and turning to her. “Tamara, calm down. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I’m the mother of small children! Yet I slept with a man half my age without even knowing his last name. God, I’m a … I’m a … a cougar .”
Elec burst out laughing. “You are not a cougar. That’s
Now it was his turn to look confused. “Of course. You didn’t know that?”
She shook her head and swallowed, wondering why it felt like she’d stuffed marshmallows into her mouth. It was hot and sticky and she was having trouble getting her spit down her throat. “I thought you were on Ryder’s pit crew.”
Those soulful brown eyes—the ones that were completely responsible for her current state of nakedness—penetrated her.
Then his mouth turned up in a smile. “No kidding? Well, hell, at least I know you wanted me for me, not because I was a driver.”
Hah. If she had known he was a driver, she would have run.
Then she remembered the way his tongue had felt on her, and she knew she was lying. She totally would have stayed anyway; she just would have felt more guilt in doing it.
“What’s your last name?” she asked, thinking maybe she should have asked that a tiny bit sooner. Though she hadn’t followed racing all that closely in the last two years, so even if he had told her his name, it was possible she wouldn’t have recognized it as belonging to a rookie driver.
“Monroe.”
Oh, no. “Monroe …” That was a name she knew. Tamara sincerely hoped that he wasn’t …
“Elliot Monroe’s son.”
Yep. That’s exactly who she was hoping he wasn’t. He was just the son of one of racing’s legend drivers. His entire family was involved in the sport and the older brother Evan had been driving in the cup series when Pete had. The Monroes and the Briggses had socialized together for years before a legendary fallout the year Pete had died. Tamara remembered a particular barbeque at her in-laws’ house probably a decade ago where all the Monroes had attended, including Evan, who was her age, and their younger son, who had been a quiet, dark-eyed teenager named …
Oh my God.
It was Elec. “I know you,” she said, struck dumb. “You were at a barbeque at the Briggses a long time ago. You got drunk on pilfered beer and took your daddy’s car and did doughnuts on the front lawn.”
Elec rubbed his chin and gave a sheepish smile. “Guilty as charged. But they shouldn’t have left the beer keg unattended. It was too much a temptation for a teenage boy.”
Tamara started to think she just might faint. Dear God in heaven, she had slept with a teenager. She was a molester. She scooted back on the mattress, trying to get off the same pillow as him, put some space, any space, between them. “You were like twelve then! How old are you now? My Lord, Elec, I’m old enough to be your mother!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, not looking at all concerned that she had just done a Mrs. Robinson on him. He reached for her, touching her hip, hauling her back a little toward him. “That was more than ten years ago, I imagine. And if you’re old enough to have a twenty-six-year-old child, I’ll eat my car, part by part.”
“You’re twenty-six?” Tamara’s heart rate slowed a little. That didn’t sound quite as bad. She’d been thinking early twenties, but at least he was heading toward thirty.
“Well, almost. In a couple of months.”
“Oh my God!” She panicked and ducked under the sheet. She could not even look at him in all his sexy cuteness. It was too tempting and just so wrong . Unfortunately, diving under the sheet only forced her to confront her own nakedness as well as his. And his nakedness was a beautiful thing, all muscular and hard and hairy in the right places, with a big old morning erection. Nope, going under hadn’t been one of her better ideas.
Nor did he leave her alone under there. He actually came under, too, tenting the sheet with his left hand and turning to her. “Tamara, calm down. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I’m the mother of small children! Yet I slept with a man half my age without even knowing his last name. God, I’m a … I’m a … a cougar .”
Elec burst out laughing. “You are not a cougar. That’s
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