The Blind Date

by Alice Ward

  As we waited for the food to arrive, Laura went into her practiced speech about UnCaged. She’d done it enough, it was like second nature to her. She spoke about how we’d both come out of college with sports-related degrees and wanted to do something to help with the obesity epidemic. She went on about how impassioned UnCaged was about delivering fitness to all people.

  It was just what I needed, because now I could sit back and study Emma. She was listening politely, being the model guest, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would bring out that beast in her, the one who got behind the wheel and took no prisoners. Then I wondered what it would be like to undress her, to lift that tiny t-shirt over her head and bare those perky tits.

  I cursed myself and lifted my ice water to my lips. Not that. Not now. Not ever.

  When Laura finished her spiel, she smiled. “Do you have any questions?”

  Emma looked like she was going to say something, but Brody spoke up before she could. “No, ma’am,” Brody answered. “Sounds like a great outfit.”

  “Oh.” Laura winced. I could tell she was flustered about being called ma’am. She’d hated turning thirty this year. “Well, I’ll certainly give you our cards in case you think of anything.”

  I focused squarely on Emma, hoping her brother would get the hint and stop holding her hand. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

  Brody didn’t take the hint. Instead he just grinned, although the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “She wants the Cup.”

  Emma looked at him like he was crazy and nudged him. He shrugged confidently, like it was only a matter of time before she got there. He believed in her, that much was sure. Her brother must have come on as her unofficial manager from the way he was answering the questions. Clearly, he had more experience at this sort of thing than she had, and he was just leading her around. But I wanted to see more of her personality, to judge whether she’d be good for the Drive Like a Girl campaign. She had the looks, for sure, and the body, hell yes… I just needed to see that spark.

  I leaned back in my chair, keeping my eyes on her. “Three races? You’re far from the Cup. Did I read you came in dead last in Iowa?”

  Our food came then, and she grabbed her burger and took an enormous bite out of it. “Yes,” Emma began, still chewing. “Because—”

  “But she placed in Kansas,” Brody pointed out. “And Emma’s got ice-water in her veins. She can be ruthless when she wants to be. She has the potential.”

  “Brody is the one with the professional race experience,” she admitted, looking over at her brother cautiously. What was that? Survivor’s guilt? I didn’t deal in petting people, in helping them get out their feelings. My business was in driving people to be better. She droned on about him, but I’d lost interest. “He got in a lot more races before his accident. Even big ones. I was in his pit crew, so I—”

  I pushed my vegetables around the plate with my fork, more interested in her than in Brody. “But you placed in Kansas. Was that a fluke?”

  Brody was shaking his head violently. “Uh-uh. You kidding me? Not a fluke. You see the way she tore them up? She’s a natural,” Brody said, championing her. He was clearly a salesman. Meanwhile, Emma just sat there quietly, calmly, leaking no emotion whatsoever as she let him fight her battle.

  Dammit. Nothing I’d said before had riled her up. Right now, she looked about as stirred up as a cesspool. I knew driving was about being calm under pressure, but I wanted to see her blow her top.

  It came to me, what to say then. What was guaranteed to bring the fire out. And I was so ready to travel into dangerous territory with her. I put my fork down, leaned forward, and said matter-of-factly, “If she were a natural race car driver, she’d been born a man.”

  Brody just stared at me, finally speechless. After a moment, he said, “Well, if that’s the way you feel, you’re out of luck. In case you didn’t notice, I’m the only man here. I’m down an arm, and I ain’t getting back into racing anytime soon. So if you ain’t for Ems, you ain’t for either of us.” He took his napkin and threw it on his plate, pushing away from the table. He said to his sister, “Come on, Ems.”

  “Sit down, Brody,” she said quietly, not looking at him. No, her eyes were hard on me, and her words were clipped and full of passion. “I know I don’t have a lot of experience, but I could win for you, Mr. Cage.”

  That interested me, but I wasn’t going to sink a couple million dollars into a sponsorship for could. I needed more insurance than that. “Why do you think that?”

  She leaned forward, and I could feel her warm to the subject. “Because I want it more than all of them put together.”

  I needed more. I wanted the fire. “Is that so? A lot of people want. Few people actually get.”

  “But I will,” she insisted flatly.

  “How can you be so confident?”

  “Why do you seem so confident that I can’t?” she shot back, her voice finally rising. There it was. The spark. Her nostrils flared, and she banged the table with her fists for emphasis. “Seems like you spent an awful lot of money to bring me out here just to tell me that you don’t think I’m good enough to drive with your logo on my hood.”

  My associates around the table had begun to shift in their seats. They sure as hell didn’t talk to me that way. No one did. But truthfully? I loved it. “I only want to see what I’m getting myself into, Miss James.”

  She let out a dismissive laugh. “Pretty boy like you? Guaranteed to be in over your head. Do you even watch NASCAR, Mr. Cage?”

  Laura snorted, which caused me to smirk. Someone down at the end cleared his throat. Pretty boy. So that’s what she’d been thinking about me. Sure, it was better than what I’d been called in middle school, but I felt my confidence lag. Everyone at the table was now waiting for my answer, and I wasn’t going to respond. I changed the subject. “And what do you tell the people who say that NASCAR is just for men?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “If they think that, they’re not worth my time.” She stirred her ketchup with a fry. “Besides, I’m not one to talk. I’d rather show them how wrong they are.”

  I leaned forward. “And if you can’t?”

  She leaned forward too, a slow smile spreading across her face. “That word isn’t part of my vocabulary, Mr. Cage.” She lifted the red-coated fry and waved in my direction as she spoke to her brother. “I don’t think I want a bully as my sponsor, Brody. What do you say we finish up our lunches and head back to Arizona?”

  He nodded, shooting eye-daggers at me from across the table.

  What. The. Fuck.

  Who was running this meeting, anyway? And did she just call me a bully? I’d been bullied all of my childhood. I’d donated millions to anti-bullying programs all over this country.

  I was a lot of things. But one thing I was not was a fucking bully.

  I looked around the table and said to my associates, “If you wouldn’t mind leaving us, I’d like a word with Miss James in private.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Emma

  Okay, so I wasn’t up on the latest technology. Didn’t have a big-ass screen TV or a computer at home, didn’t even own a cell phone. WiFi was something I could give a rat’s ass about, and things like Facebook and Tweeter or whatever it was didn’t matter at all to me. Brody was more into all that stuff than I was. But for the second time in a week, I found myself thinking that putting a little tech into my life might have been a good thing.

  The first was when I killed my breakfast that morning I’d gotten the call from Laura Cage and nearly burned down our entire house. I’d had to settle for cold cereal and found myself thinking a cell phone — or hell, any phone without a cord — probably would’ve saved those poor eggs.

  The second was when I stepped into the restaurant and took one look at the man who supposedly wanted to sponsor me. Locke Cage, the owner of UnCaged Fitness.

  I’d expected someone who was ph
ysically fit, and I got that. He was broad, very broad, pro-wrestler broad, except he was wearing a blazer and a dress shirt that gaped open, revealing a smooth chest with a sexy spattering of russet hair and a black rope necklace with some sort of silver pendant.

  Every part I could see of him was bronze. His skin, like he spent most of his time outdoors. His jaw, which was rugged and unshaven, featured stubble the same bronze color as his head. Up there, though, it was all gelled and combed into a shaky kind of submission, the kind you wanted to get your fingers lost in.

  I’d expected someone older, someone maybe my dad’s age. This guy was thirty-five, tops. Probably a billionaire too.

  And he was pretty much the hottest man I’d ever seen.

  A fact that I could’ve better prepared myself for had I gotten my ass on the internet and googled him. Instead, I stared at him like I hadn’t eaten in two weeks and he was a big juicy steak. He was the first person you’d notice if you walked into a crowded room. He just exuded charm, presence.

  Kind of like my brother was being charming and present now.

  The moment we’d gotten off the plane, Brody’s personality had shifted. Gone was the sullen man so full of anger. He’d actually put a smile on his face and a spring in his step, shaking everyone’s hands with an easy grace that surprised me. And told me just how badly this sponsorship meant to him.

  So I’d just trailed along, letting him speak, since he was so much better at it than I was.

  But I couldn’t seem to stop my gaze from going to the man on the other side of the table.

  Why hadn’t Brody told me? Let me in on the secret that Locke Cage was an unbridled god? My big brother had the internet, after all.

  Probably because he didn’t see him that way. But still.

  I felt myself blushing, something I never did. I’d been with a few men before, but none were even remotely like him. Most of them wore flannel and cowboy boots and hunted elk for a living. And where I came from, a beer-inspired quickie in the back of a pickup truck was pretty much a standard romantic evening. Until I saw Locke Cage, I’d been satisfied with that.

  But when I saw Locke, I wanted more. More of what, I didn’t know. Contact. Him touching me, looking at me, tasting me… all of it.

  Didn’t last, though. The first hint of things going south was his handshake. It wasn’t exactly limp but more noncommittal. Daddy always said handshakes were your first impression, and to give them all you got, but this man shook hands with no feeling, like he was just going through the motions.

  As the meeting went on, that initial dumbstruck inclination to act like a giggly schoolgirl faded even more. Every time he opened his mouth, he lost a little bit of luster. Because gradually, I realized that my potential sponsor was one-hundred-percent, grade-A jerkmeat. All he did was lounge back with his open shirt and his hot, bulging chest muscles like he was the king of the world, wearing douchebag mirrored sunglasses that hid most of his face.

  Brody kept trying to sell me like I was the greatest thing since sliced bread, because this was our shot, and he didn’t want to blow it, even if it was supposed to be his. But Locke was unimpressed. He was constantly checking his phone because he was sooo über-important, and then firing questions at me like I was of some inferior breed. He was spoiled, coifed, likely hated getting his hands dirty and probably didn’t know one lick about racing. His sister looked like more of a man than he was.

  So by the end of lunch, I’d let him have it.

  And then, Brody was kicking me under the table.

  I knew it, I knew it. This guy was our chance. He had us by the balls, and Brody wanted us to clinch this. Either play nice or be on welfare next month. But I had a temper. And I sure as hell didn’t like playing nice with pretty boys who thought their shit didn’t stink.

  “I’d like to have a moment with Miss James alone,” he said once his girly, South Beach Diet meal was cleared.

  And I knew I’d gone too far. I was in for it.

  He tented his hands in front of him and frowned at me. His minions silently cleared out, probably glad because they’d all been shifting around uncomfortably while we’d been railing into each other.

  Brody looked down to see if I was all right, and I waved him away. I’d beaten bullies like this macho billionaire all my life, made them go crying home to their mommies. I shoved the last of my burger into my mouth as Locke Cage watched me like I was consuming a live puppy. If this meeting went the way it looked like it was heading, at least I’d gotten a damn good burger out of it, and I wasn’t going to waste a single bite.

  Once the room had emptied, he took a drink from his water goblet, and still holding it and swirling it like it was some great vintage of wine, pretentious jerk that he was, said, “Do you know why I sent them away, Miss James?”

  “No clue,” I said, still chewing noisily, trying to pretend I didn’t care. He had so much ego, he probably wanted me to lean over and kiss his ass so I could earn the money. Maybe suck his dick, depending on how sleazy he was. He could play hardball all he wanted. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. I had dignity.

  I also had ketchup on my thumb, so I licked it off as he said, “I sent them away because I don’t want my employees to see me getting my ass handed to me.”

  I stared at him, my frown not cracking. “Well, if you’re going to act like that, you’d better get used to someone handing you your ass,” I said, then added “sir” because I still thought I should be polite, even though he didn’t deserve it.

  He removed his glasses, revealing the greenest eyes, like the darkest part of an emerald. He’d been hot before, but as his eyes settled on me, I nearly gasped aloud, they were so intense. God, did he know how disconcerting he could be, just staring at someone like that? That kind of gaze should be outlawed.

  He leaned back, crossed his arms, and gave me a slow, sexy smile. Oh, my heart. “Like what?”

  I thought he knew he had me with those eyes. And the only way I could salvage my dignity was by being brutally honest, even if he was looking to sink millions of dollars into me. “Like a pompous asshole.”

  I winced as the words hung in the air, and thought better of it, too late. His eyes widened slightly, and I braced myself for him to tell me to get my ass back on the plane, posthaste.

  Instead, he let out a low, belly twisting laugh. “All right, all right. Let’s start over. Can I ask you a question?”

  I nodded reluctantly. “As long as it isn’t a pompous asshole one.”

  He held out his hands as a sign of peace. “I’m not really a pompous asshole,” he said, like he was trying to prove it to me. Like my opinion actually mattered to him. He didn’t need to bother though. I’d already begun to believe he wasn’t one. Because he had eyes that would make me believe anything.

  I looked away, grabbed a fry, and nibbled on it, making a hmph sound like I wasn’t so sure.

  “Your brother said you wanted the Cup, but I want to hear it from your mouth. What do you want?”

  I opened my mouth to say “the Cup” because it was the easy answer. All race car drivers dreamed of that, right? But the truth was, I was practically on the other side of the world from winning first place in any cup races. No female had ever done that. At that point, I’d have settled for a good arm for my brother, some security for my parents… but for me?

  Right then, I wanted his mouth on me.

  I blinked. Where had that come from? He had a lusciously kissable mouth, pretty boy that he was. Pink, soft lips, almost like a girl’s, nice teeth. They’d probably do a good job at biting on my nipples, his tongue teasing its way over my bare skin. Despite the unshaven jaw, everything about him screamed that he took more care of himself than most men should. I bet he got regular massages. But it didn’t stop me from wanting to delve my hand under that expensive shirt of his and feel his rock-hard muscles myself.

  “To go as far in this as I can,” I answered, shoving the image of his naked body away.

  He nodd
ed. “And how far is that?”

  “All the way, I hope,” I said to him and couldn’t help but sound seductive when I said it. He drew in a sharp breath, so I knew he wasn’t thinking of racing anymore. “What do you want, Mr. Cage?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” His eyes never leaving mine, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I want you.”

  I almost lost it right there. A man like Locke Cage should never be allowed to utter those words. It could cause a spontaneous nuclear explosion.

  “I’m sorry if I came across too hard,” he said, returning the sunglasses to his face, thankfully allowing me to concentrate again. “But I needed to see what you’re made of. Whether you have the fire to be our Drive Like a Girl spokesperson.”

  Spokesperson? “Drive like a… did you say girl?”

  He nodded. “So tell me, if we were to come to an agreement and you were to race for me, what would be your demands?”

  “Well…” My eyes trailed to the door where Brody had gone. This really was his territory. I wasn’t a wheeler-dealer like him, and he’d poured a lot of research into this one question prior to his injury. “I’d hope you can cover some of our racing costs.”

  “Naturally. But beyond that?”

  I wasn’t sure. But then something my dad used to say to me got stuck in my head. I won’t be disappointed of you if you aim high and miss. But I will be disappointed if you aim low and hit. Right then, it solidified in my mind. Aim high. Shoot for the moon, and if I got shot down, at least I tried. “I’d like to be able to choose my own pit crew.” He nodded. “And Brody would be chief.”

  A wrinkle appeared on his forehead, and it took everything inside me not to smooth it away with my fingers. “As long as he could manage it, giving his… injury.”

  “Oh, he can,” I said. “With the top-of-the-line arm you’re going to get for him.”

  He raised an eyebrow. But he didn’t say no. Shit, he didn’t say no.