All About Eve Read online

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Devastated in Denver, you’re on the air with Dr. Lovegood. What’s on your mind tonight?”

  The silky voice floated across the airwaves as gentle as a caress between lovers. It was a voice that inspired sympathy, hope, and in some, lust induced dreams.

  Eve Lovegood adjusted her headphones and propped her feet up on the console that held an assortment of jelly donuts and granola bars. No one had made a dent in the granola bars yet, and she knew they’d been there since the four AM morning shift. In fact, they could have been the same granola bars that had been there since she started working at the station three years ago.

  She shivered, glad she hadn’t been desperate enough to fall off the wagon and gorge herself with a plateful of fried lard or furry granola, and waited for the caller to ask her question. There wasn’t time in her hectic schedule to lose another twenty pounds.

  “Thanks for taking my call, Dr. Lovegood.” The clogged caller had obviously been crying, the sniffles and occasional hiccup giving her away. “I think my husband is having an affair.” The woman burst into a fresh round of sobs, and Eve had to spend a few minutes quieting her down enough to listen.

  “Have you asked him if he’s having an affair?” Eve asked

  “Oh, no. I could never do that. What if he leaves me?”

  Eve pushed aside her impatience. She had no tolerance for women that stood around and refused to fight for love. It was too precious and much too rare in her mind to throw away just because being a coward was easier. She pushed her own failure out of her mind and focused on Devastated in Denver.

  “Why do you think your husband is having an affair?” Eve asked gently, trying to smooth the woman’s ruffled feathers.

  “Because he never wants to make love any more. He just comes home from work, eats the food I put in front of him and then falls asleep in bed watching a movie. It’s the same thing every night, even on the weekends.”

  “Have you tried getting his attention? Maybe greeting him in sexy lingerie or getting him to watch an adult video with you when he lies down at night?”

  “Goodness, no,” the woman said, scandalized.

  Which was, in Eve’s opinion, the crux of the problem. People weren’t willing to take enough chances when their relationship was on the line.

  “What does your husband do, and how long have you been married?”

  “He’s an OB/GYN, and we’re going on eight years.”

  “Have you ever thought that maybe your husband needs something more than clinical sex in his life with you at home? He looks at a part of the female anatomy dozens of times a day that most men only see when they’re involved in intercourse with their partner.”

  “I’ve never thought about it that way before,” the woman said, as if a light bulb went on above her head. “What should I do?”

  “You need to find new ways to make your vagina different than everyone else’s. I don’t mean that in the physical sense obviously, but your husband needs to see you in a new light. He works long hours and probably doesn’t get a lot of time off, so every moment you spend with him needs to count. Instead of watching an adult video together in the evenings, why don’t you make a video of yourself so he’s surprised when he hits play on the remote? And when you’re finished seducing him, tell him your fears about him having an affair or losing interest. He’s part of your relationship too, and you should share each other’s burdens.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Lovegood. I’m going to do it tonight. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” The woman’s tears had dried up and a sliver of hope was now in her voice. That hope was what Eve lived for—to know that she’d helped in some way, no matter how small.

  “Thank you, Devastated in Denver. Please let us know how things work out. You’ve been listening to Dr. Eve Lovegood on WKTP’s national radio syndicate. This is Dr. Lovegood signing out until tomorrow night.”

  Eve removed her headset and tried to straighten her haphazard ponytail. Her hair had a mind of its own, thick and rich, the true blue black of the Irish and all the unruliness of Little Orphan Annie. She went to great lengths at the beginning of the day to straighten and smooth, but in the end she always ended up with a ponytail that looked like it had been set with TNT.

  “Great show tonight, Eve.”

  “Thanks, Lucy.”

  Lucy Potter was the producer for Eve’s show and her good friend. Everyone around the station called Lucy the Destroyer. She was barely an inch over five feet tall, and she could cut a person off at the knees with her sharp tongue if something went wrong during one of her shows. Her dark, corkscrew hair and bright blue eyes didn’t soften the blow any because it was like being scolded by Shirley Temple with fangs. Eve adored her. And she secretly admired the way Lucy wore leopard print spandex on a size fourteen frame with no doubts or self-consciousness at all.

  “How’s Suzanne?” Eve asked, stretching her sore muscles after sitting in a chair for four hours. She bent over and touched her fingers flat to the floor, inciting a wolf whistle from someone walking by the glass enclosed booth that she called her office for a few hours every night. Whoever the whistler was, their love life was sadly lacking if they found a woman in grey sweats and high tops sexy. Eve was glad to be out of private practice just because she never had to wear pantyhose again if she didn’t want to. She had the perfect job.

  “Suzanne’s fine. We’re still looking for a house that both of us can agree on. You’d think it would be much easier for two women to buy a house rather than a man and a woman. We both know exactly what we want and we both have a vision. The problem is that our vision is completely different. Sometimes I think being a lesbian is much harder than when I was married.”

  Eve smiled sympathetically. “You’ll find something. You and Suzanne are a great couple. You’ll compromise and both get exactly what you want. Don’t worry, house hunting takes time. Look how long it took me to find my house.”

  “That’s true,” Lucy said with a sparkle in her eye. “And it looks like you should have taken your own advice, because your house is a disaster. Have you gotten the back porch fixed yet?”

  Eve gave Lucy an irritated look for mentioning her poor judgment and started gathering her things. Her back porch had collapsed from the rotted wood that was apparently prominent throughout her entire house. Unfortunately, she’d been standing on it at the time and fallen through to the basement. She tried to look at it as fate lending a helping hand, because she hadn’t even realized she’d had a basement. It had been sealed up years before. Her knee was still stiff from the fall.

  “No, I’ve had to put off my plans for the porch. My toilet fell through the floor from the second story last night, so I’ve moved my list of priorities around a little.”

  Lucy gasped in horror. “Eve Lovegood, it is not safe for you to live in that house until everything is up to code. You could be seriously hurt. What if that toilet had fallen on your head? You can’t give advice on people’s love lives from six feet under. I’m going to report you to the city inspector myself if you don’t get something done about it fast.”

  And she would, too, Eve knew. Lucy didn’t make idle threats. “I’ll get it taken care of,” Eve said, dutifully scolded. “But I may end up a pauper before I’m done. I didn’t realize how much money is going to have to go into this project.”

  “You couldn’t be a pauper in your wildest dreams. You have more money than God.”

  “Yeah, but this house is going to change my life drastically. I can feel it in my bones. Not to mention the fact that I’m still researching restoration companies and contractors. That’s not a decision you can make on the spur of the moment.”

  “You bought that monstrosity on the spur of the moment, so I thin
k hiring a contractor is small potatoes compared to that. You’re going to have to buy life insurance for every person that steps foot on your front porch. That hasn’t collapsed yet, has it?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Well, it’s only a matter of time,” Lucy said, with confidence.

  “You’re not helping. I obviously can’t take advice from myself. I don’t know how thousands of other people do it. I have rotten judgment. Why don’t you give me advice tonight? I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Lucy opened her mouth, but Eve interrupted her before the words could be spoken. “I’ll do anything except sell or live somewhere else.”

  Lucy shot her a dirty look and left the control booth to head back to her desk, her black stilettos clicking against the hard floor. Friends. . .what a pain. Eve slung her bag over her shoulder and left the booth, already dreading the night ahead. She was currently sleeping in the middle of the living room because that seemed like the safest place. But she was thinking about setting up a tent in the back yard after the latest bathroom incident.

  “Hah, I found it,” Lucy said victoriously, waving a business card in the air.

  Eve realized that Lucy had taken her seriously when she told her to give the advice for a change. A sinking feeling in her gut made her future seem more than grim. She wasn’t good at taking other people’s advice. That’s why she was always giving it out.

  “This is the number of the contractor that did all of the work on our condo last month. He was brilliant. He increased the value of the house a lot, and we’ve already had several offers from interested buyers. I want you to call and leave a message on his machine tonight,” Lucy said, obviously looking for an argument and waiting to combat it.

  Eve looked at the card in her hand and back at Lucy. “Hand me the phone.” She knew good advice when she heard it.

  The company was called Murphy-Madsen Construction and Restoration, and the names of George Madsen and Jake Murphy each occupied a bottom corner of the card in bold print. She decided to go with George because that was a name that said dependable construction in her mind.

  The phone rang several times before the answering machine picked up and a gruff voice welcomed her to leave a message and contact information. She smiled at the voice. That had to be George.

  “Mr. Madsen, my name is Eve Lovegood, and I’m having a little bit of a construction crisis. You came recommended from a friend, and I’m pretty desperate since the toilet from the second floor bathroom fell into my downstairs bedroom.” She left her address and phone number and prayed they would have time in their schedule to help her.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad,” Lucy said, beaming as if she were a proud parent. “You did good, Lovegood.”

  “Thanks, boss. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. All the crazies call on Friday night, plus it’s a full moon.

  Eve groaned at the thought. Friday nights were always interesting.

  “Look on the bright side. Somewhere in Denver tonight, a lonely housewife is trying to make her vagina different. Sage advice, Dr. Lovegood,” Lucy said, giggling. “That is definitely one for the record books.”

  “Well, at least someone is getting lucky. Lord knows it’s not me.”

  “That’s because every man you might consider for a relationship is going to be terrified of your house.”

  Eve waved bye to Lucy’s delighted laughter and headed down the elevator to the parking garage. Lucy was wrong. Men weren’t afraid of her house, they were afraid of her. No one wanted to be with someone who was supposed to be an expert on relationships. Her own failed marriage had taught her that. Good men didn’t stay interested in a woman like her after the initial curiosity began to fade. She would have been just another statistic if her divorce from Steve had been finalized before he’d died.

  Eve wished she had the luxury of calling in to her own show, because Lonely in Dallas needed some serious advice.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jake Murphy listened to the sexy voice on the answering machine for the dozenth time and felt the slow burn of pure lust settle low in his gut. That voice was a powerful weapon.

  He popped the tape from the machine and put it in his desk drawer in case he was ever more desperate to hear the sound of a woman’s voice than he was right now. No, not just any woman. Her. He’d never been so glad that George had decided to go visit his wife’s family, even though there were more jobs to do than one man alone could handle.

  It had been a long time since Jake had strapped on a tool belt. When he’d first started the business it had only been him and a few subcontractors hammering nails and putting up drywall. When the business had taken off because of its reputation for quality work, he’d made George a partner and Jake had donned a suit to meet with clients, lawyers and bankers. People liked to see a successful image before they handed you their money. But now with George on vacation he was back in the trenches and having the time of his life. The pleasure of watching something built from the ground up was still a part of him.

  And Eve Lovegood had just risen to the top of the pile for purely selfish reasons. He was only a man after all. Surely George would understand the need to see if the face matched the voice. George would have done the same thing before he’d gotten himself shackled to a life sentence with one woman. Of course, George and Sally had been married for twenty-three years, so they were probably going to be okay.

  Jake was simply curious as to the owner of the voice. It had been a while since he’d found a woman that intrigued him for more than just a quick roll in the hay. He was tired of the singles scene, but the word marriage still scared the hell out of him. Not everyone ended up in a bitter battle like his own parents had, fought and mapped out with the precision five star generals.

  He shook his head to get rid of the memories and headed for the door, his brown leather jacket slung over his shoulder. The morning sun was still chasing the night away, and Jake ran his hand over the dark stubble he’d forgotten to shave that morning. He’d been so anxious to see whether or not that voice had been a product of his imagination that he’d only taken the time to jump into the shower and throw clothes on before heading to the office again.

  What was he thinking? It was just a voice. She could be completely unattractive, married with three kids, or eighty and senile for all he knew. But if he kept her contained to his fantasies, she’d always be the seductive temptress he imagined her to be.

  He’d been there the night before when she’d called, but had no intention of answering the phone that late, his desk already piled high with contracts needing his signature. And when her voice had come over the line he hadn’t been in any shape to pick up the phone. That voice had given him a few incredible dreams during the night, and his curiosity couldn’t be put on hold any longer. He only hoped she was an early riser because he wasn’t going to wait a minute longer to make the face a reality.

  The phone rang before he could get the door open and he felt his palms go sweaty at the thought that it might be her again. He made it back to his desk in two leaps and grabbed the receiver.

  “It’s about time you answered, boy. I could have died before you found your way to the phone. It’s not nice to keep old people waiting. Our time is precious.”

  “You’re going to live forever, Gran.” Jake smiled into the phone at the voice of his favorite person, and he simply ignored her complaints of getting old.

  Ruth Buchanan Murphy Stiles Littlefield Tyson O’Neil LaVelle was a woman to be reckoned with. She’d dropped all the other names after her last husband’s death and gone back to using Murphy, because she said he was the one she loved best. She was ninety and acted like a teenager most of the time. She would outlive them all, and it looked like God was on her side.

  “You’re damned right, boy. I’m having too much fun. I’m thinking about getting a motorcycle. What do you think about that? We can cruise together. I want to get a hog just like yours.”

&nbs
p; Fear lodged somewhere in the pit of his stomach, not for her safety but for the safety of the other drivers on the road. Ruth Murphy hadn’t had a driver’s license since Reagan was president.

  “Umm, I don’t know. They’re kind of big for someone your size, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. That stupid man down at the DMV said I failed my test anyway. I’ve never failed at anything in my life. Murphy’s do not fail.”

  “Except at marriage,” Jake said.

  “Not everyone’s as stupid as your parents when it comes to love, boy. I loved every single one of my husbands, bless their souls. They don’t make ‘em like they used to though, so here I am alone again. That’s why you should settle down now. You don’t have too many good years left in you.”

  “I’m only thirty-two,” Jake said, strangling on a laugh. The woman was outrageous.

  “That doesn’t mean a blasted thing. My third husband, Matthew Littlefield, was just your age when I married him, ten whole years younger than I was, and darned if he didn’t croak at the most inopportune time. I had a hell of a time explaining to the police where I’d gotten the handcuffs from.”

  Jake looked at the small cabinet he kept behind his desk and wondered if it was too early for whiskey. It was barely seven thirty in the morning. There were some things grandchildren didn’t need to know.

  “Listen, Gran. I’ve got a job this morning.” Memories of Eve Lovegood’s voice sent tingles down his spine. He hadn’t felt the anticipation of the mating dance in longer than he cared to remember. And if Eve Lovegood was even half as beautiful as she sounded then he was going to put his skills of seduction to the test. A voice that sexy had to come out of a mouth that could do incredible things.

  “Well, let’s get a move on, boy. I’m ready when you are. I was wondering how long you were going to stand there jawin’ on the phone and leave me sitting in your driveway.”

  “You’re sitting in my driveway right now?” Jake asked, all thoughts of the mystery woman’s sexy voice completely lost because of one little old woman.