For all Eve’s snippiness and sarcasm, Sloan had to admit she could paint. Drawn against a weather-beaten sky, the tall octagonal structure cast the viewer into the lighthouse keeper’s life, a solitary and lonesome existence amid hewn stone, narrow lookout windows, and oil-burning lamps.
Lost in the painting, Sloan felt the shift in the wind, saw the dark clouds racing, heard the waves pounding the shore. The lighthouse would withstand the heavy rainfall, as would the ships entering Norfolk harbor.
“I’ll hang it this evening,” Addie said to Eve.
“I’ll stick around and help you,” Sloan offered. “I have a suggestion as to which wall would catch the best light.”
That wall was Eve’s crying corner. It was time to replace her childhood photographs with this painting. For some unknown reason, her tears bothered him. She’d grown up in Taylor’s adventurous shadow, afraid of Santa Claus and ducks.
“Next you’ll be rearranging my grandmother’s furniture,” Eve objected.
He made a recommendation: “Angle the coffee table between the sofa and armchair and you’d have more walking space.”
“The table stays right where it is.”
Anticipation built as Addie opened Sloan’s gift, a gift she’d saved for last.
“Don’t let it be a vibrator,” Sloan heard Eve pray as Addie stripped away the red bow and gold paper and slowly lifted the lid on the box.
Eve held her breath Sloan hoped she’d turn blue.
Sloan hoped
A perplexed Addie reached into the box and removed a large engraved gold disk. “ ‘McCaffrey’s Transport’,” she read, then looked questioningly at Sloan. “I don’t understand.”
He edged forward until he was close enough to speak directly to the older woman. “I know many seniors can no longer drive and that you’re an advocate for safe public transportation. Even though you may be able to convince the mayor to set up a service, I’m your driver until he gets the buses on the road. Twice a week, I’ll take you and a group of friends to the mall, the restaurant of your choice, the theater, you name it. My cell phone number is also engraved on the token. Give me twenty-four hours’ notice, and unless the Rogues are playing out of town, I’ll get you where you want to go.”
“Driving Miss Addie.”
Sloan didn’t have to turn around to know who’d uttered those words—they came from the sarcastic sister.
Addie patted his arm. “I accept your gift, and thank you, son. You’re very generous with your time.”
Approving nods from the guests followed Sloan as he walked back to Eve and Taylor. “Impressive,” Taylor commented.
“Suck-up,” Eve muttered.
“Addie loved your gift. She’s ready to adopt you.” Taylor squeezed his arm.
Sloan caught Eve’s shudder.
He didn’t give a rat’s ass what Eve thought. He’d done right by Addie; that was all that mattered. He’d crashed her party, yet given an appropriate gift. No one could fault him now.
No one but Eve. “You played me.” Her words struck low, her punch high.
A punch straight to his upper arm. Sloan’s muscles spasmed. He grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her back near the bar out of earshot. All the guests had their backs turned to them. “Stop with the jabs; that’s my pitching arm,” he growled. “Damn straight I played you. You’re sarcastic as hell and have me pegged as an ass. I’m not that bad.”
“You’re the very worst.” Her eyes were livid, her tone tight.
Sloan stared at her. She was all fired up, her color high, Eve Hannah looked hot—hot enough for him to give her a second look. Her eyes flashed, and the pulse at her throat beat wildly.
As wildly as that of a woman about to climax.
Her heat drew his own.
His groin burned.
His dick strained against his zipper.
He’d be full-blown in a matter of seconds.
Wickedness pushed him to say, “Want to know what I’d have gotten you, had it been your birthday?”
Curiosity pursed her lips before she shrugged. “I couldn’t care less.”
He read women, and knew she wanted to know. So he told her: “A gift from Good Vibrations. And it’s not a Beach Boys CD.”
“A gift that runs on batteries?”
“You’re quick, Eve. My women like Intimacy Kits.”
“I’m not one of your women.”
Definitely not one of his women. Sloan McCaffrey would never have a tight-ass in his life. Yet he had the sudden urge to provoke, to get her so worked up she squirmed.
He leaned in closer so his breath warmed her ear. “For you, I’d have gone with the deluxe kit.”
Her eyes widened, and her blush deepened. Yet she didn’t pull away.
“The deluxe includes Naughty Nights, an erotic novel that tucks you in and turns you on.”
He heard her swallow.
“Then there’s the chocolate thong. The heat of your body melts it down. Mm-mmm, good.”
The tip of Eve’s tongue wet her upper lip.
“And the Tickle-Popzzz. Green and purple guilt-free pleasure treats. The soft, vibrating rubber suckers are perfect for massaging those sweet spots that need a little extra attention.”
Her breathlessness amused him.
“The kit also comes with a tangerine massage cream that makes you tingly all over.” He took her hand and very slowly rubbed his thumb over her wrist. “You could use a tingle, couldn’t you, Eve?”
Hot little shivers made her fingers twitch, and she clenched her hand to still the sensation.
He moved his hand to her hip, finger-walking across her belly—a surprisingly flat little belly. “You’d like the spearmint lubricant. The gel works to keep things warm and slippery.”
Sloan swore he felt her stomach flutter.
Her lips had parted, and her eyelids had gone heavy.
His next words brushed her cheek. “The G-Swirl’s my favorite. It has three speeds and is waterproof.” He nipped one corner of her mouth. “Beats the hell out of bathing with a rubber ducky.” Then he quacked.
His quack broke her trance. Eve stepped back so quickly, she bumped into the bar. She rubbed her back and glared at him, more embarrassed now than angry. “Save your deluxe kit for someone else’s birthday. You’d never be on my guest list.”