Off the Record (Off #3)(7)
His voice is low and direct, made by a man that is used to flirting shamelessly. It causes a flood of sexual awareness to run through my body and I mentally chastise myself.
“Then it is your lucky day, because I have lots of questions for you,” I quip.
He looks around, and I notice that he hasn’t released my hand. It’s strong yet it’s holding me delicately, as if he is conscious of how small it is. I have a fleeting thought as to what it would be like to have him run those hands over my body.
Get a grip, Ever. You’re here for a job, not to have sex fantasies about your subject.
“Tell you what,” Linc breaks into my thoughts. “Let’s go sit down by the water away from the music and we can talk.”
“Sounds good.” I pull my hand from his and grab my bag. Turning to Emily, I give her a quick wink. “Catch you later.”
I stop at an aluminum tub filled with ice and drinks, grabbing two beers. I pop the top off one and hand it to Ever. She takes it with a soft word of thanks.
We sit in a small gazebo near the water, far enough away from the party that we don’t have to yell at each other. I watch as Ever sets her beer down and pulls out a notepad. She hesitates then looks over at me. She has the most amazing blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. It’s not just the color, which is a pure cornflower blue. They are large, crystal clear and surrounded by thick lashes. She has really dark hair, almost black. It’s long and wavy, but she has her bangs cut long and straight across her forehead. The dark hair next to her big, blue eyes makes them pop. I feel like I’m staring at her like a dumbass, but I’ve just never seen eyes like that. Normally, I’m an ass man, but I may need to rethink what really catches my attention.
It’s not just her eyes that are amazing. She’s small but curvy, rounded in all the right places. Her skin is ivory pale and flawless. Her rosy cheeks and lips stand out in contrast but it looks natural. She doesn’t have a classically beautiful face, not like a super model, but when you add the dark hair, baby blues and fair skin, she’s like a modern day Snow White.
Yes, I had noticed her immediately. I had a glimpse of Nix and Emily, and then my attention was on her. I couldn’t tell much about her at first, other than she was small and her hair was really long, hanging in soft waves down her back. Without thinking, I started walking her way.
Then those three women stopped me dead in my tracks, wanting to gush over what huge fans they were. I won’t lie, I got a little sidetracked by the massive amount of boobs that were hanging out, but then I turned, intent on checking out the woman with Nix and Emily. When I looked at her a second time, she was staring at me. I could see her eyes were blue from several yards away and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. She only became more gorgeous the closer I got to her.
My thoughts are interrupted when she says, “Do you mind if I record our conversation? That way I won’t have to take notes and we can just sort of talk like normal people?”
“Sure. Not a problem.” I take another sip of beer and watch her set up the recorder. She sets it on the bench in between us.
Taking a big breath, she starts, “So—”
I cut her off. “What does Ever stand for?”
Impossibly, her blue eyes round even further in slight shock. “Huh?”
“Your name...Ever. I’ve never heard that before.”
She shoots me an exasperated look. “Who is doing the interviewing here?”
“Hey. You said we would just have a conversation like normal people.”
Ever sighs dramatically, but I can tell I’ve amused her. “So I did. Ever is short for Everette. It’s just something I’ve been called since I was a baby, I guess.”
“Everette?” I say, trying the name out on my tongue. She doesn’t look like an Everette. She definitely looks like an Ever. “It’s kind of masculine.”
She gives a light laugh, and I’m momentarily sidetracked by the brilliantly straight and white teeth she is flashing at me. They make a perfect complement to her lips, which are plump and ever so soft looking. “It’s a southern thing. Many southern moms love bestowing masculine names on their little southern belles. My mom was no different.”
“Ahhhh. I thought I detected a southern accent. Where are you from?”
“Seriously. Are you interviewing me?”
I just stare at her and take another sip of my beer, waiting for her to answer. She finally gives in.
“I was born and raised in North Carolina. I transferred from Duke to Columbia less than a year ago. I just graduated and work at The Post. I’m five foot two and I’m a Pisces. I love sushi and long walks on the beach. Anything else?”
“Do you really like long walks on the beach?”
“Not really,” she says with a laugh. “I’m more of a mountain person.”
“Me too,” I tell her.
“Really? What do you like about the mountains?”
And so the interview begins. For the next half hour, she peppers me with all kinds of questions. She learns that I love to vacation in Wyoming during the off season, that my favorite TV show is The Walking Dead, and that I’m a pretty damned good cook. She asks a ton of questions about my lifestyle and I answer them all. But I also learn a lot about her too. For every few questions she throws my way, I ask one of my own.