by KT Shears
Race for the Heart
By KT Shears
Copyright © 2015 by KT Shears
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
To my best friend Jen who, despite not being interested in sports, loves a good sports romance. Thanks for being a part of my life for the past 25 years. Here’s to growing older disgracefully! X
Contents
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter one
Ava ran her finger round the rim of her cocktail glass, gazing around the upmarket bar she and her friend Elise were sitting in. It was typical Monaco, she thought; full of rich young men and women splashing the cash and quaffing vast amounts of champagne. It wasn’t really her scene, but Elise had been desperate to hit the town after a tough week at work, and Ava had grudgingly agreed.
They both worked for a large public relations firm, which had bases all over the world. Ava had recently transferred to Monaco from the New York office. She missed New York, horribly – but she had had to leave. She couldn’t risk running into him again; that would be too much to bear. She closed her eyes for a second and thought of Shay Donnelly, the man she thought she would marry. How could he have hurt her so badly? How could she have let him?
She thought she knew what she was getting into with him. He was a hockey player in the NHL, and she’d been in public relations long enough to know what they were like. But Shay had seemed different, sweeter, and it hadn’t taken long before she had let down her defences and let him into her life. And soon it had been their life, and they had been talking about marriage, and kids. She had waved him off to games with tears in her eyes, stood in a freezing cold ice rink watching him hit a puck around, and stayed up late to watch his away games on television. She had loved him, and she thought he had loved her too.
He had certainly led her to believe that. He had, what her grandmother called, the gift of the gab, and he had talked his way into her heart. She had been naïve, Ava thought, to ever believe the words that had come tumbling out of his mouth. But she had lapped them up, eager to believe he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.
The day she had seen the magazine had been a day just like any other. She had just finished work in the centre of New York, and was about to take the subway back to the plush apartment that she and Shay shared. He had just come back from a two-week long away stint, and she was desperate to see him. She missed him when he was away and she was excited to get home. As she walked past the magazine stall, though, her blood had frozen in her veins.
Splashed across the front of one of the weekly gossip magazines was the heading ‘Shay’s Big Date’ and, to her absolute horror, it was accompanied by a lurid picture of Shay – her Shay – with his tongue down a scantily clad woman’s throat, his hand up her tiny skirt. Ava thought she would faint on the spot and she had clutched on to the sides of the kiosk, her stomach heaving. She wondered if she would throw up.
The owner of the stall had eyed her with concern. A quick appraisal of her outfit had obviously reassured him she wasn’t a drunken tramp, and he came to her aid, helping her over to sit on the stool he had vacated. She was shaking and the tears were starting to drip down her face.
‘What’s wrong?’ the kiosk owner had asked, at a loss for how to help.
Ava had shaken her head, pointing at the magazine.
‘I’ll take one copy.’
She had forced herself to turn inside on the subway ride home. There were more pictures, even worse than the one on the front cover. She realised that this had been last week – the night Shay had called her telling her he was having an early night before his game in Chicago. She had believed him. Why shouldn’t she?
He was home when she arrived at the apartment, and it took him only seconds to realise what the problem was after she flung the magazine at him. He’d stood, gawping at it, and had then reached a hand out to her across the room.
‘Babe…’
A guttural sob had escaped Ava’s throat as she pushed his hand away. She had rushed into the bedroom – their bedroom – and grabbed a suitcase, throwing in a selection of clothes and toiletries. Then she had fled the apartment, leaving Shay standing there, the magazine lying on the table with its pages open.
‘You seem a million miles away,’ Elise said, poking Ava on the arm.
Ava smiled, trying to rid herself of the image of Shay standing there in the middle of their apartment. That had been the last time she had seen him, except for on TV.
‘Sorry,’ she said, picking up her cocktail and taking a sip.
‘You’re not thinking about him again, are you?’ Elise asked, suspiciously.
Ava shook her head, knowing she probably couldn’t carry off a lie but trying anyway.
‘Hmm.’ Elise stared at her intently but didn’t press it. ‘You know what they say, right? The best way to get over a man is to get under another.’
Ava couldn’t help but laugh. Elise was full of these stupid phrases.
‘Who says that?’ she asked, laughing harder when Elise shrugged.
‘People,’ she said, waving a hand around vaguely. ‘I reckon it’s true though.’
Ava shook her head again. It had been a while, she knew that. It had been over a year since she had left Shay, and she hadn’t so much as kissed a man since. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, it’s just that was all she wanted. Sex would be fine, but a relationship? No chance. It was going to be Ava and Ava alone for the rest of her life. Any of the men she had met since Shay hadn’t struck her as the screw and leave type, and she couldn’t face dealing with angst-ridden text messages or lovelorn men in suits turning up on her doorstep.
‘Maybe,’ Ava said, eventually. ‘But I don’t want a relationship. I’m happy as I am.’
Elise smiled at her. ‘You sound like a man’s dream,’ she said. ‘A woman who wants sex with no strings? I’m surprised they aren’t beating your door down.’
Ava shrugged. ‘How do you broach it with someone?’ she asked. ‘Do you have them sign a disclaimer before you hop into bed?’
Elise snickered. ‘Well you could. But I think you probably just need to find someone where it goes without saying. Your problem is, you meet these guys at posh balls and they want to take you out for dinner. What you need is to meet a guy in a bar who wants to take you to his house and screw you.’
Ava pretended to be shocked, holding a hand to her forehead in a swooning gesture. ‘Miss Beaumont, I am appalled.’
‘Well, Miss Duval, appalled you ma
y be, but you know I’m right.’
Ava sighed, casting a look around. ‘I can’t see a single man in here I want to share a cab with, let alone a bed.’
‘Pfft,’ Elise said, looking around too. ‘Hmm, you’re right, actually. It is slim pickings in here tonight. All money and nothing between the legs, probably.’
Ava was just taking a sip of her drink when Elise let out a low whistle.
‘Hold up,’ she said, staring intently over Ava’s head. ‘We may have been too hasty.’
Ava turned round and saw immediately who Elise was staring at. Standing at the bar was a tall, powerfully built man wearing fitted jeans and a black short-sleeved shirt. Tattoos covered his muscular arms. Ava’s gaze lingered on the tattoos – she loved tats and had a few of her own. She dragged her eyes up to the guy’s face. Wow, he was a hottie. Dark hair framed a perfectly chiselled face, with caramel eyes. He had stubble, and as she watched him, he laughed, flashing perfectly white teeth.
Ava turned back to Elise, her friend laughing at the expression on her face.
‘Was I right?’ she asked, teasingly.
Ava nodded.
‘He is hot,’ she agreed. ‘Especially the tats.’
She swivelled round in her seat to gawp again, but the guy chose that exact moment to glance around the room and their eyes locked.
‘Shit,’ Ava said, swivelling back round. ‘He saw me staring.’
Elise’s eyes were wide as dinner plates. ‘Um, Ava? He’s coming over.’
***
Asher Carter was in the mood to get wrecked. It had been one hell of a week, and he ran his hands through his mop of brown hair, trying to release some stress.
It had started with his brother. It always started with Devlin, he thought, resentfully. Older by a couple of years, Devlin was the star racer in the family. He’d almost won the championship last year, but he had a massive attitude problem. He had almost killed his teammate. Asher remembered watching the coverage on TV from his hotel room. He had been on the other side of the world taking part in a touring car championship, but he always watched Devlin’s races. Not particularly because Devlin was taking part, but because Asher dreamed of taking part himself. It had always been his dream, and he was determined to follow in his brother’s footsteps.
He had winced as Devlin ran into the back of his teammate’s car, sending Jonasson spinning off the track. He could have killed him, and as he had watched the interviews after the race, he realised that Devlin didn’t even seem to care.
Devlin had lost the championship, and Asher couldn’t say he was particularly sad about it. His brother had always been pretty obnoxious to him, after all. He barely spoke to him these days. They exchanged a cursory few words at family gatherings, just to keep their parents sweet, but they were basically strangers.
Even though Asher knew he was good enough for the bigtime; knew he could compete with the Erik Jonassons of this world; it had still been a surprise when his agent had come to him a week or so earlier with the news had been waiting his entire life to hear.
‘Pegasus want you, Asher.’
Asher had stared at Colin blankly, his mind reeling.
‘They want me?’ he had asked, stupidly.
Colin nodded.
‘Rodriguez is off to Willis Mechanical,’ he had said, and Asher had furrowed his brow.
‘Is Jonasson retiring?’ he had asked, puzzled as to why there would be a slot there. He knew the racing champion had just got married – he’d seen his gorgeous new wife watching him at races on the TV – and wondered if he had decided to quit the sport.
Colin had paused and then said, ‘Devlin didn’t get picked up for the season.’
Asher had stared at him, disbelievingly.
‘What, by no one?’
Colin had shaken his head.
‘He’s damaged goods, Asher. He spent the whole off season drinking, and with his general behaviour and attitude last year, no team wants to touch him.’
Asher had almost felt sorry for his brother, but then he thought of Devlin’s sneering face the last time he had seen him.
‘You’ll never be as good as me,’ he had said, spitting the words out at Asher like venom.
Asher had stared at Colin, the smile slowly starting to grow on his face.
‘They want me? Seriously?'
They had wanted him. He had met with the team principal, Nigel Hollingsworth, the very next day and they had hashed out a deal. The team was in a rebuilding phase, and Nigel had been honest with Asher.
‘We won’t win the championship this year, but we’ll give every race a damn good go and we want to improve.’
Asher had shrugged. He didn’t care if he didn’t win the championship in his first year. He knew he would win it at some point in his career. Knew it as well as he knew the words to every AC/DC song ever written.
Of course, news had got back to Devlin pretty damn quick. Everything travels fast in the racing world, and he had got a furious phone call from his brother. Asher tried to ignore some of the harsher things he said, knowing that Devlin must be reeling himself from going from a number two finish to being without a team, but eventually he had told his brother to fuck off and had hung up, furious.
The rest of the week had been a whirlwind of contract signings and photoshoots to unveil him to the world as one of the new faces of Pegasus. He had met his teammate, Felipe Gotteri, also new to the team, although he had raced in Formula One the year before, and was pleased to find that he actually liked the dude.
It was Felipe he was out with tonight.
‘Man,’ Felipe said, throwing beer down his throat like it was going out of fashion. ‘I need to get me some pussy.’
Asher laughed. Felipe Gotteri was about 5ft 6 and looked like he had been hit by every branch on the ugly tree as he fell down.
‘You’re an ugly sonofabitch, Gotteri,’ Asher said, downing his own beer.
‘Fuck you, man,’ Felipe said, laughing. ‘That’s why I become a racing driver, yes? Now I get plenty girls.’ He spread out his hands to demonstrate just how many girls he got and Asher shook his head at him.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Asher said, scanning the room.
‘Man, there some hot pussy in here,’ Felipe said, his eyes also flitting around the room.
Asher shrugged. ‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘They all look like they’ve got a stick up their asses.’
‘Maybe they will soon have me up their asses,’ Felipe said, brightly, and Asher snorted.
‘You’re a sick fuck,’ he said.
As his eyes darted over the room, they came to rest on a woman sitting at a table across from him. She had turned round in her seat and was staring at him. She was fucking gorgeous, Asher thought, feeling a tightening in his groin. She had long blonde hair and she was wearing a silvery dress that fell off her deliciously-shaped breasts. He smiled as she turned round abruptly and then felt himself get slightly hard. Was that the glimpse of a tattoo on her back?
Felipe was oblivious, suddenly waving at a scantily-clad woman across the room.
‘Hey,’ Felipe said. ‘I fucked her last week, I think.’
And with that, he had disappeared across the room.
Asher shook his head. He should probably go, but his balls ached and he needed a release. He started walking across the room to where the tattooed woman sat.
Chapter two
‘What do you mean he’s coming over?’ Ava hissed, as Elise flushed a deep shade of red. Fuck, what had she done? She couldn’t believe she had been caught ogling someone and, even worse, he was now apparently on his way over. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was always so careful not to give off a vibe she was interested in someone. She was always aloof, and now she’d let her guard down because of a few sexy tattoos and a handsome face. What an idiot.
Elise shrugged, helplessly.
Ava felt a hand on her chair and turned round. He was even more gorgeous up close than he had been from across the room. And the smell of him. It wa
s enough to make her wet. She hadn’t felt the blood surge to certain places since she had left Shay, and she savoured the feeling of it.
‘Ladies,’ the attractive guy said, flashing them both a winning grin. ‘Can I buy either of you a drink?’
Ava started shaking her head but Elise nodded, enthusiastically.
‘Two sex on the beaches, please.’
Ava snorted at the look on the guy’s face, but he turned and headed dutifully to the bar.
‘What the hell, Elise?’ Ava glared at her friend.
‘Hey, he’s cute. And what were we just saying? He is totally the kind of guy you could fuck once and never have to see again. He’s perfect.’
Ava shook her head. ‘You are insane. You have totally lost it. I’m not fucking a guy I just met in a bar.’
Elise smiled, wickedly.
The guy returned, brandishing the cocktails. To Ava’s surprise, Elise stood up, suddenly.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, grabbing her bag. ‘But I just remembered, I have a thing, so I have to go. To the thing.’
She backed away from the table. Ava glared at her. What the hell was she doing? Surely she wasn’t leaving her along with this guy after thirty seconds? But Elise did a small wave and then scurried away towards the door.
Oh shit.
She took a large gulp of her cocktail.
‘I’m Asher,’ said the guy and stuck out a hand, attached to a very tattooed arm.
Ava took his hand and they shook. His hand was big and softer than she would have imagined for a man covered in tattoos.
‘I’m Ava,’ she said, thinking this was probably going to be the high point of their conversation. It would surely be all downhill from here.
They sat in awkward silence for a second, and Ava took another big mouthful of cocktail. Maybe if she got drunk this would be less hideous. She thought about the night she had met Shay, at a charity benefit her PR firm had helped to organise. She had ended up sitting next to him at dinner, and they had talked non-stop all night. They hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had left the table. She remembered the way his hand had brushed against hers; the way his eyes had lingered on her face. She should have fucking walked out of there and never looked back, she knew that now. Hell, she’d worked with enough sports stars to know that they were a bad idea. You couldn’t trust them. They would break your heart in a second.
