by Robin Wells
“Well, honey,” Celeste crooned, stroking her hair, “don’t cry. This will all work out. A baby—why, that’s wonderful.”
“I’m not sure Austin will feel that way.” Celeste reached over and pulled a tissue out of a box on her nightstand. Frannie blew her nose into it. “He hasn’t even called.”
“When he left, you said you didn’t expect him to,” Celeste reminded Frannie.
“I know. But on some level, I—I kept hoping.” Frannie twisted the tissue until it looked like a paper tornado. “I wanted to believe he feels about me the way I feel about him.”
“You love him.”
Frannie nodded miserably. “And he doesn’t want to love anyone. He told me so.”
“What a person wants to feel isn’t always what he ends up feeling,” Celeste said matter-of-factly. “Besides, love has a way of changing the things people think they want.”
Frannie sighed. “If he cared about me half as much as I care about him, I would have heard from him by now.”
Celeste patted her hand. “Men have odd ways of dealing with their emotions. For some reason, most men don’t want to show them. Not at first, anyway.”
That was true. Frannie knew from her cousins’s experience how easily that could be the case.
“When will Austin be back in Whitehorn?” Celeste asked.
“The race is Sunday. I guess he’ll be back Monday or Tuesday.”
“All right. You’ll see him then, and you’ll talk. This will all work out. I know it may not feel that way now, but it will. Just wait and see.”
Frannie took a deep breath. “Waiting seems like the hardest part.”
Celeste smiled, her eyes full of empathy. “It always does, honey. It always does.”
The phone rang Sunday evening as Frannie was loading the dishwasher after dinner. She picked up the kitchen phone, her other hand holding a dirty plate. “Hello?”
“Frannie?” said a deep, familiar voice.
The plate nearly slipped from her fingers. Frannie grabbed it, her heart pounding hard. “Austin! Are you already back in town?”
“Not yet. But I should be there late tomorrow.”
“Congratulations on the race.”
“You heard, huh?”
“I watched it on TV.”
She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re turning into a NASCAR fan.”
“Well, I’m a fan of one particular driver.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “You were great.”
“Thanks.”
Silence beat between them. Frannie felt a current of electricity racing through the phone line.
“I was calling to see if you’d have dinner with me Tuesday night.”
“Gee, I’ll have to check my social calendar to see if I’m scheduled to dine with any other race car drivers that evening. If not, well, I suppose I could find time.”
“Good.”
I’ve missed you, Frannie thought, willing him to say the words. I love you. “How long will you be in Whitehorn?” she finally asked.
“Just a couple of days. And I’m afraid it’s going to be crazy while I’m there. Five members of my crew are coming out to rework the suspension on the cars, my main sponsor wants to see the ranch and I’m being trailed by a bunch of sports media.”
She shifted the phone to her other ear. “Where’s your next race?”
“In Denver. I leave Thursday morning for the qualifying race on Friday.”
He’d be here for just two days—and he’d be sur rounded by a throng of people the whole time. Somehow, in the midst of all that, she’d have to find a way to talk to him.
“Well, I’ll look forward to Tuesday.”
“Me, too.” In the background, she could hear laughter and loud voices. She heard Austin’s muffled voice call, “Keep it down a second, guys!” She could picture him pulling his hand from the mouthpiece and turning back to the phone. “Listen, I’ve got three separate schmoozing events I have to go to tonight, so I’d better get going. See you Tuesday evening. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Frannie, that show about our rescue airs Wednesday. I thought you’d want to know.”
Frannie was fully aware of the air date. Mr. Billings, all her co-workers and half the population of Whitehorn had mentioned it to her, telling her they couldn’t wait to see it.
“I’ll try to watch.”
“Me, too.”
Frannie hung up the phone, her emotions jumbled and raw. He’d called before he’d come home—that was something. In the back of her mind, she’d secretly harbored the notion that if he called before he said he would, it meant she’d broken through his wall, that he cared for her more than he wanted to.
On the other hand, the call left her feeling more disconnected from him than ever. This was a man who drove race cars at two hundred miles per hour, who had thousands of devoted fans, who regularly got doused with champagne on national TV. He inhabited a world of fame and excitement and endless parties about as far removed from her own quiet life as she could imagine. Could a man with such a thrilling, exciting life ever find happiness with an ordinary, everyday kind of woman such as her? Could two people so dissimilar ever build a life together?
She didn’t know about building a life, but they’d already created one. Frannie placed a protective hand on her stomach and prayed that she’d find the right time to tell him in the right way.
Jasmine peered out the front parlor window Tuesday evening as a car pulled into the long drive. “He’s here, Frannie! He’s here!”
Frannie smoothed her new black dress, wishing she knew how to smooth her nerves, as well.
“You look wonderful,” Jasmine told her.
“Thanks.” She’d pulled out every trick in the book to look her best, but she still didn’t feel equal to the task in front of her. How was she supposed to tell a man who didn’t want any emotional involvement that he was about to become a father?
“I can’t wait to see how he greets you. I bet he’s going to kiss you the moment he sees you.”
Frannie shot her cousin a meaningful glance. “Don’t you have something to do in another room?”
Jasmine grinned. “No, not really.”
Celeste stepped into the hallway and firmly took her daughter’s arm. “Come on, Jasmine. Let’s give Frannie a little space.”
Frannie cast a grateful smile at her aunt as she ushered Jasmine out of the room. She was nervous enough about seeing Austin without having an audience.
The doorbell rang. Frannie silently counted to three before crossing the foyer to open the door, not wanting to look too eager.
The impact of seeing Austin face-to-face nearly took her breath away. He was taller and more handsome than she remembered. Her voice came out low and breathy. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” Grinning widely, her pulled her into his arms and gave her a hard kiss. He held her at arm’s length and let his gaze run over her. “Wow. You look terrific.” He kissed her again, and this time it was a slow, lingering kiss that made her blood tingle. “Taste good, too.”
A shiver coursed up her spine. In all of her thoughts about seeing him, she’d underestimated the power of the physical attraction she felt for him. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
“Me, too.” Sexual energy surged between them. They stood there, just looking at each other. “You make me want to skip dinner and head right for dessert.”
Frannie’s heart pounded.
He grinned ruefully. “I wanted to take you to my house for a nice quiet dinner, but my place is crawling with people.”
“This place is, too.”
“Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to go to a restaurant. Maybe we can form a plan for dessert over dinner.”
He walked her to his truck, and the drive to the restaurant passed in a flurry of conversation. From watching the races on television, Frannie was filled with questions. She asked about rest
rictor plates, fabricators, and drive trains. She asked about the problems he’d had with a tire in the qualifying race at Atlanta, and about the two-way communication system between him and Tommy at Daytona.
“You’ve really been following the races, haven’t you?” Austin said.
Frannie nodded.
He smiled in a way that made her think it pleased him. Her spirits soared. Maybe, just maybe, he cared more than a little.
Before she knew it, he’d pulled the truck into the parking lot of the Lakeside Inn. “I didn’t know where to take you, but I have great memories of this place.”
“So do I.”
They walked to the door and were promptly escorted to a lakeside table. “It feels great to have a night off,” Austin said. “The last few weeks have really been hectic.”
“It’s good to have you back.” Maybe I should just go ahead and tell him, Frannie thought. Get it out in the open, and get it over with.
Austin leaned his elbows on the table. “You know, as great as racing is, sometimes it just feels like an endless series of decisions. Should we put more air in the tires? Tighten or loosen the steering? It feels really good to be with someone who’s not going to expect me to make a major decision in the next few minutes.”
Uh-oh. Now was evidently not the time. After dinner—after they’d had a chance to reconnect—she’d find a way to tell him about the baby.
He reached out and covered her hand with his. “I missed you.”
Frannie swallowed. “I missed you, too.” She looked away. “I kept hoping you’d call.”
“I started to. I actually picked up the phone a few times, and then I put it down.”
“Why?”
Austin lifted his shoulders. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“Hello would have been a nice start.”
“I wasn’t sure what to say after that.”
A flash suddenly went off in Frannie’s eyes, momentarily blinding her. She blinked, startled, and as her vision cleared, she saw a tall, wiry man with a large, professional-looking camera standing beside the table. A shorter, heavier man stood beside him, holding a small tape recorder and a flash attachment connected to the camera.
“Hey, Austin, can you give us a smile?” the photographer asked.
Austin scowled. “We’re out for a private evening here. Do you mind?”
“Ah, come on. I’ve got to make a living.”
Austin raised his hand and signaled the waiter. “Could you get the manager, please?”
“Hey, Frannie, how ‘bout a smile?” the photographer wheedled.
“How does he know my name?” Frannie asked Austin.
The photographer answered before Austin got a chance. “Saw your picture in the paper, sweetheart. And after that episode about your rescue airs on TV this week, you’ll be even more famous.” He clicked another picture. “The readers of the National Reporter will want to know all about you.” He clicked another photo.
The reporter held the tape recorder close to Austin. “Are things getting serious between you two?”
“Frannie and I are just friends,” Austin said flatly.
“Any chance of wedding bells?”
Austin looked around, obviously searching for the manager.
“Any chance at all?”
Austin tried to ignore him, but Frannie saw a muscle flex in his jaw.
“You’ve been quoted as saying you’re not the marrying kind. Is that an accurate statement?”
Austin hissed out an impatient breath. “Look, I have nothing further to say.”
“So your statement stands?”
“I have nothing new to say.”
The reporter turned to Frannie. “What do you think of that, sweet heart? Must be pretty disappointing to hear. Think you can get this confirmed bachelor to change his mind?”
Frannie looked down at the tablecloth, trying to follow Austin’s lead, trying to ignore the man.
“I’ll bet you want to be more than just his friend, huh?” the reporter persisted.
To her horror, Frannie’s eyes filled with tears. The photographer snapped another picture, blinding her. And then another. And another.
“Hey!” Austin’s mouth grew tight and his eyes spat fire. He was halfway out of his chair when a man in a dark suit strode up and bent to talk to him.
After a brief exchange, the man turned to the reporter and the photographer. “Excuse me. I’m the manager here, and I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
The photographer fired off one last shot of Frannie, then waved his hand in a little salute. The reporter gave a smug smile. “Well, I think we’ve gotten all we need. Nice meeting you, Frannie.”
The two men left the restaurant, escorted by the manager. Frannie was mortified to realize a tear was still drizzling down her cheek. She quickly rubbed it away with the back of her hand.
Austin regarded her, his eyes worried. “Hey, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m really sorry about that. I know how much you hate being in the spotlight.”
Frannie nodded, grateful to have an excuse. Anything would be better than explaining she was heartbroken at the quick way he’d described their relationship as “just friends.”
She’d claimed the same thing, she thought ruefully—up until they’d made love. It had been her way of mitigating her emotions, of trying to avoid the fact that Austin had stolen her heart. But she’d been deluding herself, denying what her heart had secretly known all along.
Austin, on the other hand, was simply stating the truth. Friendship was casual. It made no demands, it wasn’t exclusive, it didn’t require commitment. If it ceased to be mutually beneficial, friends could drift away and fall out of touch.
Friendship was all he wanted, she thought forlornly. She was a friend—someone he liked, someone he was even romantically involved with, but nevertheless, just a friend. A friend didn’t hold your heart in the palm of his hand. A friend didn’t promise to share a lifetime, to be there through good times and bad, to create children and raise them together. A friend was just…friendly. Like a dog.
Frannie blinked back a fresh onslaught of tears. She’d known Austin wasn’t interested in a serious relation ship. So why did it hurt so much to hear him say it out loud?
Somehow, in the time he’d been gone, she’d started believing in dreams and fairy tales. Somehow she’d fooled herself into imagining that once she told Austin she was pregnant, he’d do a complete one-eighty. In her mind’s eye, she’d pictured him being happy and excited, eager to take on marriage and an instant family.
How had she deluded herself so thoroughly? She was usually so logical and practical. It must be the hormones. Pregnant women were notoriously emotional and sentimental. Austin had said he didn’t want commitment, and it didn’t come in any bigger packages than with a wife and child. What had she been thinking?
The manager returned to the table, his mouth creased in an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Parker. I’ve given instructions to the staff not to allow any more photographers in. And I’m sending a bottle of wine to your table with my compliments.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Frannie struggled to pull herself together. “Does that happen a lot?” she asked when the manager left.
Austin grinned ruefully. “It’s starting to, now that I’ve won a few races. And our little tag-team rescue at the lake really sped things along publicity-wise. My sponsors are thrilled. I’m sorry I had to drag you into it, though.”
Frannie managed a weak smile. She was grateful when the waiter arrived with the wine, and took their orders.
“So what’s been going on in Whitehorn while I’ve been gone?”
Frannie played with her napkin, trying to compose herself. “Nothing nearly as exciting as the things in your life.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. I read about the controversy concerning the casino site in some of the Atlanta newspapers.”
/> Frannie nodded, grateful for the neutral topic. “That’s been front-page news around here. I don’t think the Cheyenne really want to move the site, though. Jackson Hawk was quoted in yesterday’s paper as saying that everything is going to go ahead as planned.”
“What’s new with you?”
Frannie’s heart thudded hard against her ribs. She stared at the tablecloth. She couldn’t tell him. Not now. “Nothing much,” she managed.
“Have you mailed off those manuscripts of your children’s books?”
Frannie looked up. “As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Good for you!” A soft, high-pitched ring sounded. Austin frowned apologetically and pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. “Excuse me.” He opened the cell phone, punched a button and spoke into the receiver. “Yes?”
Frannie watched his mouth tighten as he listened. His eyes grew dark and troubled.
“Is anyone hurt?”
Frannie’s stomach clenched. Something had happened—something bad.
“Is there much damage?” Austin asked curtly.
His forehead eased a bit. “All right. Get on the phone and see of you can locate another dyno. Then give Buddy a call and get him out here by tomorrow morning. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Austin gave a heavy sigh as he clicked off the phone and folded it.
“What happened?” Frannie asked.
“An engine blew while Tommy was testing it on the dyno. No one was hurt, thank God. And the cars and engines are all okay. But I really need another engine to take to Denver, so that means we’re going to be working around the clock to build one by tomorrow night.”
“Dyno? What’s a dyno?”
“It’s a machine that records engine performance. It tells us where in the powerband the engine is making its power.” Austin looked at her ruefully. “I hate to run out on you, but I’m afraid I need to go. The shop is in shambles, and they need me there.”
Frannie forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Go ahead. I’ll call Jasmine to give me a ride home.”
