It's All About Eve

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.”

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