Eve: Drink Of Me (F&L Story #2)

Eve: Part 5

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(For all of you who freaked out at the end of the last chapter.  Here's to you!!!  Cheers!!!)

Part 5

“Oh!” Smashing into Clint LeBoeuf’s chest was like running headlong into a brick wall. Eve’s nose immediately began to sting. His arms wound around her to keep her from falling backward as she bounced off him.

“Are you okay?”

She prodded her nose gingerly. No blood. Nothing broken. Too bad. She’d never liked her nose, and had always wondered if plastic surgery was worth the pain. “I’m fine,” she said, nasally.

His long fingers tilted her chin up, and she stared into those baby browns again. Drowned, more like it. Her heart hadn’t stopped sputtering since he walked through the front door. Today, he actually looked like a doctor. He wore green surgical scrubs and smelled of antiseptic.

Who knew iodine and rubbing alcohol could be aphrodisiacs?

No, she told her body. No, no, no, hell no!

Eve Sanborn had sworn off men. She’d initiated an embargo on testosterone in her life, and she was going to keep it that way. No men. No boyfriends. And no Clint LeBoeuf!

And didn’t that suck eggs?

“It’s fine,” she said again and backed away from him. He looked at her, confused out of his mind.

“Eve…”

“I’ll call a cab,” she said hurriedly and vanished into the back bedroom to get her purse and shoes. “I’m sorry to be such a bother, and again, thank you for taking care of me last night, and letting me get my head on straight. I’ve been so wound up about Carey, and then Mom and Dad had this argument a few weeks ago, although that shouldn’t matter right now, right? But sometimes it’s in the back of my mind, even though I can’t really recall why I felt the need to disagree with them on changing my work schedule, but anyway I appreciate your hospitality…”

She stopped. Clint stood in the doorway, his arms stretched overhead as he gripped the top of the door facing, blocking her escape. “Do you always babble like that?” he asked, grinning.

“Um…yeah, I kind of do.” She bit her lip. He wasn’t moving out of her way. “Um…”

Clint grinned wider. She slid out the room by ducking under him. He rotated, his hands still locked on the top of the doorway. A very sexy – and agile – movement.

“At least let me give you a lift back to the hospital to get your car,” he called, his voice getting closer as she tried to walk casually out of his house. “I insist,” he said when she began to shake her head.

“Fine.”

He closed off his home and walked her down the drive, past his truck. “Whoa,” she breathed. “Is that a Fat Bob?”