I needed to draw a thick, indisputable line right through her clear invitation.
“I tell you what,” I said, patting her hand like a condescending prick, planting myself firmly with the rest of the crew who treated her like a child. “The next guy you bring to the track, I’ll make sure they give the poor bastard a chance. How’s that?”
Hope faded in her eyes, and then a steeliness came over her, a determination not to let it show my response had remotely bothered her.
“Sounds like a plan.”
And then she plugged in her headphones and turned on the TV. In seconds she was watching a movie, her back very deliberately pointed in my direction.
Terrific. I had a long twenty-some hours ahead.
Paisley
By the time we disembarked in Melbourne, I could barely stand from exhaustion. People in coach thought that travelers in first class—who were pampered and fed and had a seat that turned into a bed at the press of a button—automatically disembarked on the other side fresh as a daisy.
What utter bullshit.
The time difference was a killer regardless of whether you traveled in luxury or in the economy cabin. Some lucky bastards managed to sleep the whole way. I wasn’t one of them, and nor, by the looks of the dark circles underneath his eyes, was Jared. But no matter how tired he appeared, he was still beautiful.
And not remotely interested in me.
I was still smarting from my obvious play being met with brotherly words and the sort of hand pat that your uncle gave you when you were five, before handing over a few coins and telling you to go and buy yourself an ice cream. Twice now, I’d made it abundantly clear I was Jared’s for the taking—at least I assumed I’d made it clear—and twice he’d turned me down.
Well, screw him. He won’t get a third chance.
Liar whispered the devil on my shoulder.
I hated that devil. The bugger was always right.
It took an age to get through immigration. Three large international flights had landed at once, and the infrastructure struggled to cope. Our luggage had already completed two circuits of the carousel by the time we reached the other side.
We headed for the exit. Jared barely said a word, and I felt bad about that. Maybe a few hours’ sleep in a proper bed would help me find my mojo. I couldn’t stay mad at him for long, not least because he didn’t deserve my wrath. If I wanted to win him over, to have him see me as a grown woman—the kind of woman he found attractive—instead of a kid who needed a minder, then I had to stop the petulant outbursts.
We hit heavy traffic on the journey into Melbourne, but, eventually, we arrived outside the hotel I’d recommended to Jared, a boutique intimate establishment rather than a huge, international chain. It also happened to be one of my favorite places to stay in the city.
On stiff legs, I climbed out of the cab. The driver lifted our luggage from the trunk and, wearily, we trudged inside. I didn’t recognize the receptionist from last year, but Melbourne, like most large cities, had a healthy turnover of staff as people went off on their travels or discovered new opportunities.
“We have a reservation,” Jared spoke up from behind me. “Two rooms. Jared Kane and Paisley Nash.”
“Of course, sir.” The receptionist tapped on her computer. There was a brief pause, followed by a frown, then more tapping.
“Is there a problem?” Jared asked, an underlying edge to his tone. He was as tired as me, no doubt, and just wanted to collapse into a comfortable bed and sleep for ten hours.
“There appears to be a slight issue, sir. We only have one room reserved.”
Jared shot me an accusatory glare as though he thought I’d fixed this somehow. I planted my hands on my hips and glowered.
“This isn’t my doing,” I snapped. “I left the booking to you, like you asked.”
“I never said it was,” he bit back.
I refrained from responding that there were more ways to make a point than with words, but if I did, we risked getting into a back-and-forth argument. We were shattered, jet-lagged, and in desperate need of rest. Starting a row wouldn’t accomplish anything.
“Check again,” Jared barked. “I definitely booked two rooms.” He dug out his cell phone and stabbed at the screen. He turned it toward the receptionist. “Here’s my reservation reference.”
She peered at his phone, then at her computer screen. She scratched her head. “It looks like a computer glitch. Please give me a moment, sir.”
She disappeared behind a mahogany door, then reappeared a few moments later with another woman in tow. I scanned her gold name badge. Marion Weeks, Manager.
“Mr. Kane, Ms. Nash.” She held out her hand, and we shook. “I’m Marion Weeks, the manager of the hotel. I cannot apologize enough for the mix up. It does, in fact, seem as though only one room has been reserved for you.”
“Mistakes happen,” I helpfully interjected while Jared only grunted.
“Yes, well, I can assure you I shall be carrying out a full inquiry. The problem we have, you see, is that we’re fully booked. We have two guests checking out tomorrow morning, but until then, we only have the one room.”
Realization dawned on me. I locked eyes with Jared who ground his teeth, then turned his annoyance on the poor unfortunate manager.
“That’s not good enough. Sort it out.”
Ms. Weeks shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t apologize enough, Mr. Kane, but my hands are tied.”
A heavy sigh fell from his lips. “You take the room here, Paisley. I’ll go find another hotel.”
I shook my head. “Jared, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been traveling for twenty-four hours. We’re both exhausted and can barely stand. It’s only one night.” I focused on Ms. Weeks. “There’s a sofa in the room, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then that settles it.”
“Paisley, no—”
I cut him off. “We’ll have two keys, please. And, of course, you’ll let us know as soon as another room becomes available tomorrow.”
“You have my word,” Ms. Weeks said. She scanned two keycards and handed them to me along with a business card. “Please call me on my direct line if there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.”
“Thanks,” I said, heading for the elevators.
Jared followed, irritation pouring off him. The doors closed, leaving us alone in a confined space that heightened the tension. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Fix your face, Jared,” I said, grinning. “It’s not the end of the world. I promise not to sneak over when you’re asleep and take a photo of your cock for an Instagram special.”
My ribbing didn’t work. He remained mute, his jaw clenched, a nerve ticking in his cheek. What the hell was wrong with him? He needed to stop acting as if he’d just been told he had to kill a puppy. It was one frigging night, for Christ’s sake.
We reached our floor, and I strode down the hallway with the last vestiges of my energy. I opened the door to our room. I loved this hotel for its large rooms and picturesque view. Butted up against one wall was a huge bed with a floor-to-ceiling window opposite that looked out over Melbourne. Behind the bed a photograph depicted the city skyline at night. The décor was light and airy, and the sheets a crisp white. As if I’d accept anything else.
I checked out the sofa. Hmm, not the comfiest place to spend the night, but it’d do. We could toss a coin to see who drew the short straw.
Dumping my suitcases at the bottom of the bed, I collapsed onto the firm mattress. “The room is spinning.” I sat up, which made the situation marginally better.
Jared opened his suitcase, riffled through, removed a wash bag, and grabbed a couple of items of clothing. “I’m going to freshen up,” he said, disappearing into the bathroom.
Okay, now his sulky attitude had really started to grate on my nerves. I sniffed my armpits. Nope. Didn’t smell. Not even after the long journey. So why the hell was he
treating me as if I’d got leprosy?
I didn’t have the energy to unpack and, as one of us would be moving rooms tomorrow, there seemed little point. I opened the first case which, fortunately for me, had a pair of pajamas sitting right on top. I found my wash bag without too much trouble, then sat on the end of the bed and waited for Jared to finish, trying desperately to stay awake long enough to shower.
My eyes had started to droop when the bathroom door opened. I forced my lids open, and then widened my eyes. Jared had changed into a tight, black T-shirt that showed off his tanned arms, taut biceps, and solid chest. On the bottom half, a pair of boxer briefs… and nothing else. He had the best pair of legs I’d ever seen on a man. Most guys had terrible legs. They were either too skinny, or too muscly, or they were covered in so much hair you could barely see the skin beneath. Not Jared. As with everything else about him, they were perfect. Strong, athletic, well-shaped. A perfect dusting of dark hair.
“Bathroom’s free,” he said, seemingly oblivious to my gawking. “I’ll take the couch.”
I scrambled to my feet. “We should toss for it.”
He expelled an impatient sigh. “I said I’ll take it. Don’t argue, Paisley. I don’t have the energy.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “What is wrong with you, Jared? I didn’t come on this trip to be snapped at one minute and ignored the next.”
His gaze cut to mine. “Why did you come, exactly?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Are you joking? I came because you asked me to.”
“Yeah, well, I’m starting to think that was a mistake,” he muttered under his breath, but more than loud enough for me to hear.
“Don’t worry, Jared. It’s easily resolved.” Ice dripped from my words, cutting through his anger. “You can buy a guide book tomorrow to find your way around. I quit.”
With a stiffened spine, I picked up my washbag and went into the bathroom. With deliberate calm, I quietly closed the door.
Jared
I stared at the closed door for a few seconds, then gave a slow head shake and blew out a breath. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I sank onto the couch, my head lolling back. What a fuckup. The very last thing I needed was to spend the night in the same room as Paisley, albeit she’d be in the bed and I… wouldn’t be. My issue, though? I wanted to be in that bed with her. And not to sleep either, despite my bone-deep tiredness.
I didn’t need temptation to be thrust in my face, because I wasn’t very good at resisting. The helplessness of our situation manifested itself in sharp retorts that she didn’t deserve, and heavy silences thickened the atmosphere to painful levels.
I pushed to my feet and plodded to the closet. Inside, I found a blanket and a pillow. I laid them on the couch and climbed underneath. I turned on my side so that when Paisley came out of the bathroom, she’d only see my back—and I wouldn’t get an eyeful of her in her nightwear. Not that I expected her to wear a slinky negligee or anything—although I wouldn’t be disappointed if she did—but this situation was far too intimate.
I shouldn’t have let her talk me into staying. My instincts were screaming at me to jump in a cab to the team hotel across town and see if they could fit me in early. Jack expected the entire team to stay together. He believed it helped with morale. I didn’t disagree, but Paisley had been insistent on staying here first before we headed on over on Thursday, three days from now.
Although, given her parting shot before she stomped off into the bathroom, I didn’t think there was much risk of us getting it on. Probably more chance of her stabbing me while I slept.
The door clicked open, and the bathroom light went out. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding my breath, anticipating her next move. I half expected her to pour ice water down my back, but instead, with my ears straining, she pulled the bedcovers back, and then silence.
I opened my mouth to apologize but changed my mind at the last minute. We were both tired and cranky. Much better to get a few hours’ sleep, then go out to dinner—it was morning in Australia because of the time difference—and then tomorrow we’d sort out more suitable sleeping arrangements that didn’t involve my cock ending up inside her pussy.
I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under.
I woke some time later to the sound of whimpering. I sat up, my back stiff and sore from the unsuitable makeshift bed. I twisted my neck to look at Paisley. She’d tossed the covers on the floor, and the top of her pajamas had ridden up, giving me a view of her smooth, flat abdomen and the merest glimpse of the underside of her tits. I groaned and turned over again, but then the whimpering increased in volume. Tossing the blanket to one side, I stood and padded across the room. Paisley’s head twisted from side to side, and her hands were clenched into fists. A faint sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.
“Paise,” I whispered, touching her arm lightly. “Paisley, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”
She bolted upright so fast, our heads clashed.
“Ow,” I said, rubbing mine, while Paisley stared around half stunned. Eventually she focused on me.
“Jared?”
“You were having a bad dream.”
She frowned. “I was? I don’t remember. It must be the jetlag.” She licked her lips. “I’m thirsty.”
“Hang on.”
I crouched in front of the mini bar and removed a bottle of soda. Water would be better, but there wasn’t any. Fuck’s sake. What type of an establishment didn’t put water in the mini bar? Especially as outside, the temperature had reached one hundred degrees, albeit the room we were in had air conditioning.
I twisted off the cap and handed her the bottle. She drank greedily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“What time is it?”
I checked my watch. “Six p.m.”
She swept a hand down her face. “Wow. I must’ve crashed.”
“Me, too.”
Her gaze lifted to mine, and she nibbled her lip, a regular habit, I’d noticed. “Sorry about before. I’m a bitch when I’m tired.”
I owed her an equal apology, but I didn’t want to open the door for her to question me about the real reason for my bad temper, so I offered up a smile instead.
“But you’re feeling better now?”
“Much.” Her stomach rumbled, and she clutched it. “And I’m ravenous.”
“Then let’s change and go grab some dinner.”
Paisley took us to a small, intimate bistro about a five-minute walk from the hotel. The dim lighting and soft music filtering through strategically placed speakers made this feel remarkably like a date. I needed to dispel any illusions she might have.
Fast.
I didn’t get the opportunity, though, because she blindsided me with her first question the second we’d given our drinks order to the server.
“Tell me about your upbringing. How you got to the pinnacle of a sport that’s steeped in money without having a background which afforded that to you, because I gotta tell you, Jared, I’m so impressed by that. By you. It speaks volumes to me about the kind of man you are.”
I didn’t like to talk about my past. Not because I was ashamed of where I came from, but unless you’d been there, you couldn’t possibly understand. I also didn’t like the stock responses I got. You know the ones. Tilted head, pitying looks, the odd murmur of “Oh, it must have been so hard for you.” Well, fuck them. I didn’t need anyone’s pity.
Weirdly, I found myself talking to Paisley.
“From an early age, cars always intrigued me. I used to watch reruns of old motor races whenever I could. Nascar, IndyCar, Drag Racing. Anything involving cars and speed, but back then being able to afford to buy a car, let alone race one, felt like an impossible dream.
“When I was seven or eight, I started doing odd jobs around the neighborhood. Taking washing to the laundromat for our neighbors, cleaning windows, picking up groceries for old ladies. Anything to earn an extra few bucks to help out my parents. Mom insisted I keep a qua
rter of whatever I earned, so, once a month, I would visit the go-kart track and race. Twelve times per year when I’d feel so goddamn alive. I knew this was my destiny, but I also knew the chances of someone like me making it were slim. We barely had enough to eat and keep a roof over our heads, let alone the sort of cash I’d need to fulfill my dreams. But I continued to hope and pray, and drive go-karts. Then, at age fifteen, Dan spotted me. He saw the ‘raw talent’ and took a chance on a complete unknown.” I shrugged. “And here I am.”
I waited for the pity party to start, but instead she leaned forward and squeezed my hand. “You’re some guy, Jared Kane. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard you’ve had to fight to get where you are. Such grit and determination.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went with, “Thanks.”
She kept hold of my hand. “I know what you think of me, and I’ve probably helped to reaffirm that opinion with my behavior of late, but I’m not that person, Jared. Not really. I’m struggling to find my place in the world, the male-dominated world I’ve chosen to break into. It’s not easy, and being Jack Nash’s daughter comes with its own set of challenges. And before you say anything, I’m not making excuses. I’m a very lucky girl to have had my upbringing, but I’m desperate to make it on my own merit.”
She briefly dropped her gaze, her thumb tracing my knuckles, then gazed into my eyes once more.
“I want you, Jared. Life is too damned short to see something you want and sit back hoping it’ll come to you. I’m not that girl. I chase my desires, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
“Paisley.” I ran a hand over my face. “I can’t. We can’t.”
“I know, I know,” she said, gesturing dismissively. “You don’t ‘do’ rich girls. But I’m not rich. My dad is.”
Despite the fact I was trying to figure out how I could run as fast as possible in the opposite direction without seriously damaging her feelings, I couldn’t help it. I chuckled. She was just so… different. So confident. So fucking honest, refreshingly so.
The Full Velocity Series Box Set Page 8
