by Cat Schield
The heavy beat of desire pulsing between her thighs made it hard for London to utter her next words. “I think I’d better go home.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
To her dismay, his words disappointed her. As they made their way to the parking lot where she’d left her car, she mulled several questions. How had she hoped the evening might end? That he would press her to extend their time together? Suggest that she come home with him?
He’d demonstrated that he was attracted to her...hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what he’d meant by his temptation-in-high-heels remark? He spoke as if he wanted her, but his actions hadn’t crossed any boundaries she’d set for first-date behavior. His kisses hadn’t been designed to blow past her defenses and set her afire. She had no doubt that would happen. The brief contact with him had demonstrated her body was dry kindling and his lips the spark that would set her alight.
“Are you okay?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Fine.” Yet she was anything but. What if there was something wrong with her? Something that caused men to lose interest in sex. Could it be that she was the sort of woman who turned men off? Harrison had barely kissed her. Maybe he’d been uninterested in taking things any further.
London’s skin prickled as she pondered her relationship with Linc. For months now she’d been plagued by the worry that the reason he’d broken off their engagement was her lack of desirability. Sure, sex between them had been good. Linc was a fantastic lover and she’d never gone unsatisfied. But there hadn’t ever been the sort of rip-your-clothes-off passion Maribelle so often talked about having with Beau. In fact, London had grown surly with her best friend several times after Maribelle had shared stories about her and her fiancé.
“Remember I told you I was an introvert?”
“Yes.”
“Aside from the negative impression we can give about being shy, aloof or stuck-up, we have a lot of really positive characteristics. One of those being our ability to take in a lot of information and process it.”
Unsure what he was getting at, London asked, “What sort of information?”
“When I’m in the middle of a race, it can be tiny nuances about how other cars are moving that telegraph what their drivers are thinking. I’m also pretty good at reading micro-expressions. I can tell by tiny muscle shifts what someone might be feeling.”
“You think you know what I’m feeling?” She disliked being like a bug under a microscope.
“I can tell you’re not happy.”
Rather than agree or disagree, she raised one eyebrow and stared at him.
“You can give me that face all day, but I’m not the one you’re upset with.”
“What makes you think I’m upset at anyone?”
“Not anyone. Yourself.”
That he had read her so easily should’ve rattled London, but there was no judgment in his manner. “And I suppose you know why?”
“I could guess, but I’d rather wait until you’re ready to tell me.”
He couldn’t have said anything better, and all at once London wanted to cry. She prided herself on her strength and resilience. That Harrison had whipped up her hormones, roused her insecurities and nearly reduced her to tears demonstrated just how dangerous he could be.
“What if I never do?”
To her shock, he wrapped her in a fierce, platonic hug that left her body tingling and her nerves raw.
“Everyone needs someone to talk to, London,” he whispered and then let her go. Before she could untie her tongue, he continued, “I’ll call you later this week with the details about Saturday. I’m looking forward to having you and your friends at the race.”
London used the distraction of sliding behind the wheel to grab at her flailing control and reined in her wayward emotions. “Is there anything I should know beforehand?”
“We’re looking at sunshine and midsixties for race day, so dress accordingly.”
“Okay.” London had no idea what to wear to a racetrack, but no doubt Maribelle would have plenty of ideas. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“See you Saturday.” With a wink, Harrison stepped back so she could close the car door.
* * *
“Harrison!” Jack Crosby’s sharp tone brought his nephew back to the present. “What is going on with you? All week you’ve been distracted.”
His uncle wasn’t wrong.
It was early Saturday afternoon. The qualifying races had run that morning, and instead of revisiting his performance on the Richmond track, a certain blonde kept popping up in his thoughts, disrupting his ability to stay on task.
His usual hyper focus on the days leading up to a race had been compromised while he’d wasted energy regretting that he’d pulled back instead of making a definite move on her like she seemed to expect.
Yet her conflict had been plain. She’d made it clear that he wasn’t the sort of man she saw herself with, but their undeniable chemistry tempted her. Based on how she’d begged him to kiss her, no doubt he’d gotten beneath her skin. Which was exactly why he’d retreated instead of wearing down her defenses. The woman was too quick to lay down the law. She had definite boundaries and ideas how courtship was supposed to transpire. He needed to set the foundation for new ground rules.
“I guess I’ve been a little off.”
“A little?” His uncle crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“Since the day you showed up at Crosby Motorsports and declared that you were going to be our top driver one day, you’ve been the most focused member of the team. And that’s saying something considering all the talent we’ve assembled. But not this week.”
Harrison spied a trio headed their way along the alley between the garages and felt his lips curve into a giant grin. He’d recognized Maribelle right off. The lean, well-dressed man matching her brisk pace had to be her fiancé. And the leggy blonde trailing them looked like a fish out of water as her gaze swung this way and that, taking in the loud cars and mechanics that buzzed around the vehicles.
“Excuse me a second,” he said to his uncle before stepping forward to meet the visitors.
“Welcome to Richmond,” he said as he drew near enough to shake hands. “Hello, Maribelle. And you must be her fiancé, Beau. I’m Harrison Crosby.”
“Beau Shelton.” The man clasped hands with Harrison. “No need to introduce yourself. We’re big fans.” Beau tipped his head to indicate Maribelle and she nodded vigorously. “We appreciate this chance to get a glimpse behind the scenes.”
“I’m glad you came,” Harrison said, forcing himself to be patient when all he wanted was to push past the couple and snatch London into his arms.
Maribelle winked at him. “Thanks for the invite.”
Harrison approved of her sassy demeanor, even as he noted once again how her outgoing personality differed from her friend’s reserve. Given how close the two women seemed to be, Harrison hoped it boded well for his own chances with London. Obviously she liked—and definitely needed—someone in her life who encouraged her to have fun once in a while.
“Hi,” he murmured to London after the couple stepped to one side to allow him access to their friend. He ignored her tentativeness and leaned down to brush his lips over her cheek. “I’m really happy you’re here.”
London peered at him from beneath her lashes. “You were kind to invite us.”
“You look amazing.”
She’d chosen dark blue skinny jeans with strategic tears that gave them a trendy appearance, an oversize fuzzy white sweater and a camel-toned moto jacket that matched the suede pumps on her tiny feet. She looked as if she’d worked hard to dress down, but hadn’t succeeded in achieving her friend’s casual weekend style. His fingers itched to slide into the low knot she’d
fastened her hair into and shake the pins loose. She needed someone like him to mess up her perfect appearance.
“I like your suit.” Her deliberate scan of his body heated his blood. “It’s very colorful.”
Fighting the urge to find a quiet corner where he could kiss that sardonic grin off her beautiful lips, Harrison stuck to polite conversation.
“How was the flight down?”
“It was a little more eventful than usual.” Her blue eyes shifted past him and settled on her friends. “Beau is teaching Maribelle how to fly and today she did both the takeoff and landing.”
“It was fine,” Maribelle piped up. “Just a little windier than I was used to during the landing. I did a perfectly acceptable job, didn’t I?” This last she directed to her fiancé, who nodded.
His heart was in his eyes as he grinned down at her. “You did great.”
Envy twisted in Harrison’s chest at the couple’s obvious connection. The emotion caught him off guard. Over the last decade he’d watched most of his team and fellow drivers fall in love and get married. Many had even started families. Not once had he wanted to trade places. But since meeting London, he was starting to notice a pronounced dissatisfaction with his personal life.
“That’s my car in the third garage stall on the left, if you want to check it out.”
“I’ve never seen a race car up close before,” Maribelle said, tugging at Beau’s hand to get him going. “I have a hundred questions.”
Harrison let London’s friends walk ahead of them. The urge to touch her couldn’t be denied, so he bumped the back of his hand against hers to see how she’d react. She shot him a questioning glance even as she twisted her wrist so that her palm met his. As his fingers closed around hers, a lazy grin slid over his lips.
“This is...really something.” Her choice of words left him with no idea how she felt, but her gaze darted around as if she half expected to be run over any second. “There’s a lot of activity.”
Up and down the length of the garage, the crews swarmed their cars, making last-minute tweaks before the final practice of the day. Today was a little less chaotic for Harrison than race day and he was delighted to be able to give London and her friends a tour.
“If you think this is hectic, wait until tomorrow. Things really kick into high gear then.”
“So, you look like you’re dressed to get behind the wheel.” She set her fingertip lightly on his chest right over his madly pumping heart. “What’s going on today?”
“We had the qualifying race this morning and there are practices this afternoon.”
She cocked her head like a curious bird. “You have to qualify before you can race?”
“The qualifier determines what position you start in.”
“And where are you starting?”
“Tenth.” He should’ve done better, but his excitement at seeing London again had blown a hole in his concentration. It was unexpected. No woman had thrown him off his game before.
“Is that good?”
Based on the tongue-lashing delivered by his uncle, not so much.
“In a pack of forty,” Harrison said with an offhanded shrug. “It’s okay.”
Nor was it his worst start all year. A month ago his car had failed the inspection before the qualifying race because of a piece of tape on his spoiler and he’d ended up starting in thirty-sixth position.
“So I’ll get to see you drive this afternoon?”
“We have a fifty-minute practice happening at three.” He took her hand in his and drew her forward. “Come meet my team and check out the car.”
After introducing London and her friends to his uncle and giving them a quick tour of the garage, Harrison directed Beau and Maribelle to a spot where they could watch the practice laps. Before letting London get away, he caught her hand and stopped while they were twenty feet from the stall where his car sat.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he confessed, mesmerized by the bright gold shards floating in her blue eyes.
“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” And then, as if she’d given too much away, she finished with, “We have several venues to look at on Monday and I have lots of ideas to run past you for the decor.”
He ignored her attempt to turn the conversation to business and leaned close. “I’ve been regretting that I didn’t take you up on your offer.”
Her tone was husky as she asked, “What offer was that?”
He pinched a fold of her suede jacket between his fingers and tugged her a half step toward him until their thighs brushed. At the glancing contact, she bit down on her lower lip.
“When you told me to kiss you any way I want.”
“That was in the heat of the moment,” she said, her voice soft and a trifle breathless. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I was kinda hoping you weren’t thinking at all.”
“I guess I wasn’t.” She gave him a wry smile. “Because if I had been, I probably wouldn’t have gone out with you in the first place.” Her lighthearted tone took the punch out of her words.
“I’m gonna guess you think too much.”
“I’m gonna guess you do, too,” she said.
“Most of the time, but not when I’m around you. Then all I do is feel.” Harrison cupped her face and sent his thumb skimming across her lower lip. Her eyes widened in surprise. “In fact, my uncle is annoyed with me because it’s been hard for me to stay focused.”
The temptation to dip his head and kiss her in full view of her friends, his uncle and the racing team nearly overcame him until she gently pulled his hand away and gave it a brief squeeze.
“You’re quite the flirt,” she said.
“I’m not flirting. I’m speaking one-hundred-percent unvarnished truth.” He spread his fingers and entwined them with hers. “Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“All of us?” she quizzed, glancing after her departing friends.
“Of course. You’re my guests.” He liked that she looked ever so briefly disappointed. Had she hoped to have dinner alone with him? “I have a press event at six. How about if I pick you up at eight?”
She glanced at the couple ahead of them. “That should be fine.”
“Terrific.” His gaze drifted to her soft lips. “A kiss for luck?”
“I thought it was just a practice,” she retorted, arching one eyebrow. “Why do you need luck?”
“It’s always dangerous when you get onto the track,” he said, his voice pitched to a persuasive tone as he tugged her to him. “A thousand different things could go wrong.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anything like that.” Reaching up, she deposited a light kiss on his cheek.
It wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but Harrison’s temperature skyrocketed in response to the light press of her breasts against his chest. He curved his fingers over the swell of her hip just below the indent of her waist, keeping her near for a heart-stopping second.
Too soon she was stepping back, the color in her cheeks high. Harrison wondered if his face was equally flushed because he appreciated the cool breeze blowing through the alley between the garages.
“Good luck, Harrison,” London told him before turning to follow her friends. “Don’t let that kiss go to waste.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Harrison returned to the garage and wasn’t surprised to find several of his pit crew ready to razz him over his obvious infatuation with London.
“She’s obviously a great gal,” Jack Crosby remarked flatly. “Now, can you please stop mooning over her and focus on the next fifty minutes?”
Harrison smirked at his uncle. “Jack, if you weren’t so in love with your wife of forty years, I might think you were jealous.”
Five
Anxiety had settle
d in by the time the clock on the nightstand in her hotel room hit seven fifty. London stared at her reflection, hemming and hawing over the third outfit she’d tried on.
She’d overdressed for today’s visit to the racetrack. What might have suited a shopping trip in downtown Charleston had stood out like a sore thumb at Richmond Raceway. Was tonight’s navy blue sheath and beige blazer another misstep? She looked ready for a client meeting instead of a date with a sexy race-car driver. Would he show up in jeans and a T-shirt or slacks and a sweater? Should she switch to the black skinny pants and white blouse she’d packed? London was on her way to the closet when a knock sounded on her door.
For a second her heart threatened to explode from her chest until she remembered that she’d agreed to meet Harrison in the lobby. He didn’t have her room number, so there was no way he could be the one knocking on her door. She went to answer and spied Beau standing in the hallway. His eyebrows went up when he glimpsed her.
“You’re wearing that to dinner?”
London had grown fond of Beau over the last three years, but having him critique her wardrobe choices was too much. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
“I am.” Why did everyone find it necessary to criticize her appearance? “What’s wrong with it?” She meant to sound hostile and defensive but the question came out sounding concerned.
“It’s a dinner date,” Beau pointed out, “not a business meeting.”
“It’s not a date,” she argued, ignoring the fact that she wanted it to be. She just couldn’t get attached to Harrison Crosby. Not when she was using him to get to his brother. “We’re just four people having dinner.”
“About that...” Beau began, his gaze sliding in the direction of the hotel room he was sharing with his fiancée. “Maribelle isn’t feeling well, so we’re going to stay in tonight and order room service.”
London knew immediately that her friend was completely fine and that the engaged couple had conspired to set London up to have dinner alone with Harrison. Panic set in.
