In the Fast Lane

by Audra North

  “He does have a point, Kerri,” Grady piped in.

  But Kerri’s eyes had narrowed to slits. Uh oh. “Our relationship? Poaching on another man’s territory?” And her voice had gone all high and shrieky.

  “Settle down, now, and hear—”

  “I swear to God, if anyone tells me one more time to settle down, I will gut him with a socket wrench.”

  Violent, but effective. He made what he hoped was the right decision and simply shut up.

  “What are you proposing, exactly?” She eyed him suspiciously, but at least she wasn’t shrieking anymore.

  He sighed. This was so stupid. This whole soap opera drama, the insulting smallness of the deal—he didn’t want to be here. He’d worked his whole damn life to get out of shit like this, and one moment of vulnerability had sent him back down again. History repeating itself. He wanted to fly back to Harrisburg and throw the Hart Racing portfolio in his father’s face.

  But this time, Ranger wasn’t going to let Al Colt destroy the rest of his life. He was going to win this challenge, even if it meant getting personally involved. “Actually, proposing is exactly what I’m doing.”

  At her blank look, he wiggled his fingers back and forth between them. “You know, man and wife? We pretend to be engaged and the union of Colt International and Hart Racing will be much easier to pull off in the press.”

  “Your solution to our financial problems is for me to marry you?”

  Damn, she looked hot when she was fighting him.

  “Pretend to marry me. Or rather, pretend that we’re engaged. And no, that’s not my solution to the money problem. I’m fighting fires here, sugar.”

  In fact, he could practically see the steam coming off her.

  “What does this fake engagement entail, exactly?”

  “Nothing big. Just being seen. We’ll already be spending a lot of time together because I’m going to be traveling with the team. We might have to go on a date or two, but it’s not like it will be difficult to find opportunities to look like a committed couple. You know, holding hands, maybe a few kisses for the camera.”

  His body heated, just thinking about it, but he pushed it back. No. Kissing a pretty girl was not what this was about. It was about winning that promotion. It was about Al Colt getting his comeuppance. It was about the kill. He pushed forward. “It’s for six months, and we’ll be on the road most of that time. Then, at the end of the season, after I’ve fixed the rest of this mess, we quietly break up and I go back to Pennsylvania. If anyone asks, we’ll both say that I was the one that got cold feet, and the public will give you some room to be brokenhearted for a while.”

  “Brokenhearted. Sure.” She gave a little huff, almost a laugh. “Assuming that works, which I reluctantly admit could be a possibility … how exactly do you plan to fix ‘the rest of this mess’? Do you even know anything about the business side of racing?”

  Well. She had him there. Still— “It doesn’t matter what I know or don’t know. In the end, this is just like any other business. Cut the dead weight, streamline processes, and make what’s good even better. I’ve never had a project that has been less than a raging success.”

  The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Why had he used that particular phrase? He sounded like Al when he said it.

  He didn’t like it.

  Apparently, neither did Kerri, because she sneered. “Raging success, are you for real? What does that mean to you, exactly?”

  He frowned. What kind of question was that? “What it always means, sugar. Money. That’s why you needed Colt in the first place, and that’s what I’m here to fix. Money equals success.”

  “There’s more than one way to define success.”

  “Oh, really? You’re trying to convince me of that when I saw your balance sheets last night and I know the only thing that will save Hart Racing is money? If something ceases to exist, how can it be a success?”

  She reared back at that as though he had slapped her. “Anyone who knew my dad will tell you what a great success he was. And it won’t be at all because of his money.”

  No one would say that about Al.

  But he couldn’t think of anything to say in reply, just stood there staring at her until she huffed in exasperation. “We’re not really even people to you, are we?” At his blank look, she uncrossed her arms, dropping them to her sides and mumbling what sounded uncannily like jerkoff under her breath.

  “What was that?”

  “I said you’re a jerkoff.”

  He almost laughed at that. She certainly wasn’t a wilting flower. But he’d known that already.

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to be content with being engaged to a jerkoff. Better than a crazy man who tried to kill himself—and you—out on the track today.”

  He was trying to keep his cool, but she was really testing the limits of his patience. Why couldn’t she just agree to the goddamn dating thing and do what was right for the bottom line?

  There’s more than one way to define success.

  Where did that come from? Why was he replying to himself with her words?

  She sighed. “You might have a point there. But what happens if I end up wanting something more? Something else? What if I fall in love?”

  For a moment, he thought she meant fall in love with you, and his heart stopped.

  Shit. What if?

  The very idea floored him. When had he ever thought about love? Never, probably. He loved his mother, but that wasn’t the same as loving a woman. Falling in love? Him?

  He must have been quiet for too long, because Kerri snorted. “Thanks for the silent mockery. And I get it. The odds of me meeting a guy and falling in love while I’m supposedly dating you are pretty slim.”

  She hadn’t been talking about him.

  For some reason, that thought depressed him more than the realization that his own father was trying to set him up for a fall, and he couldn’t stop the words from exploding out, sharp and mean. “No steppin’ out with someone else on the sly, either.”

  Even if her face hadn’t turned dark and angry, he’d known as soon as the words were out of his mouth that he actually deserved to be punched this time.

  “You’re an asshole, Colt.” Her eyes were flashing again, all that passionate fire directed right at him.

  “You’ve mentioned that. But it doesn’t matter because I’m also right.”

  He watched her lick her lips and wanted to groan with the desire to grab her and rip that racing suit off her body, push his trousers down, and fuck her against the wall.

  What was it about her?

  She gave an impatient huff. “You really think it’s going to work?”

  “It had better. No sponsor is going to want to back a team whose star driver is hated by the public. Think that would sell their product? And your little brother isn’t visible enough yet to get the big guys in. We’ll have to be a couple until after the last race, until the media frenzy dies down and we’ve got a sponsor secured.”

  “Not if I decide to walk before then.”

  She wouldn’t.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. What’s more, I could, easily. Blount gave me an offer three weeks ago.”

  Fuck. He was going to have to have a word with Blount. Whoever that was.

  * * *

  Ranger closed his eyes for a minute, trying to stave off an explosion. He couldn’t let his frustration show. It would only take away from whatever small power Colt International’s money had granted him. And even that wouldn’t last long. He had to get up to speed, fast, and the time he’d hoped to spend in learning at least the basics today was being sucked up by this ridiculous farce.

  Ridiculous, but necessary.

  He tightened his jaw and glowered at her. “Then tell me what it’ll take for you to stick it out to the end of the season.”

  She glowered right back. “Assuming I don’t have to prance around like Race Car Barbie, I’ll s
tay … if you’ll agree to sell your share of Hart Racing back to us after the season ends.”

  Ranger opened his mouth to respond, but she stopped him. “But that’s only if you actually manage to secure us a sponsor. If you don’t, then Colt agrees to sponsor us for the next year.”

  She wanted to buy back Hart Racing from him? If—when—he turned it around, the eighty percent Colt owned right now would be worth a hell of a lot more. He scoffed. “And how will you manage that? Unless you win the lottery, you’re not gonna get several million bucks in the next six months.”

  “No, but we can do it over a four-year payment plan. Which you’ll extend to us.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  The way she stared at him, hard, was impressive. If he were anyone but Ruthless Ranger, he might even have looked away.

  When she finally spoke, her words were quiet, but the strength behind them nearly deafened him. “Because you want Hart Racing to succeed just as bad as we do. Maybe even more. I don’t know what your reasons are, and I don’t know how I know that. But the same instinct that I use to win on the track is telling me now that you need to blow this deal out of the water.”

  Well, hell.

  Perceptive little monster. She had him by the balls on that one. But he didn’t flinch. “And what about you? Even if you buy back Hart Racing, your team consists of two drivers. Your little brother is still racing trucks, and no one is in the top races. That’s where the big money is, and you’ll have to make a big splash coming in to get to where you need to go. Without something big behind you, you’ll end up right back where you started in a year or two.”

  “What are you getting at? Just come out and say it.”

  “You win Rookie of the Year and I’ll give you those terms.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. “What do you care whether I win Rookie of the Year? If it means you’ll sell Hart Racing back to us, anyway, what does it matter to you?”

  He didn’t want to tell her.

  Besides, she had a point. He didn’t have to insist on her establishing some kind of status in her racing career that would help her stay in the game moving forward. Once he was gone, what she did with the company was her business.

  But something in him wouldn’t let it go. He didn’t care that this deal was for a fake engagement. He wasn’t going to leave Kerri in a bad position like Al had left Ranger’s mom all those years ago.

  “I said I wouldn’t let you buy back the company unless you win Rookie of the Year. That’s what you want, right? And I want to ensure that you don’t sabotage my company even if you don’t win the title.” He gave her a smarmy look, trying to rile her up a bit and throw her off guard. He didn’t like how perceptive she was, especially when it came to things like his relationship with his father. “Think of it as an incentive for you to work hard.”

  Oh, that enraged her. He could tell by the way her fists went so tight that her knuckles turned white. Good.

  “Are you implying that I would throw a race or ease up just because your sponsorship is secured? I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with, Colt.” She nearly spat the words at him. “I don’t think you’re in a position to demand—”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew it made him look bigger, made his muscles strain against the fabric of his suit jacket. He also knew that it was a stupid, posturing thing to do, but damn if he couldn’t help it.

  “Then you don’t know who you’re dealing with. I’m a demanding man, sweet pea. I don’t care how much power you think you have over me. I make Hart Racing a fucking raging success by making it profitable and getting you sponsorships. You win Rookie of the Year and I’ll sell it back to you over the next four years. On the minuscule chance that I don’t fix things, I’ll sponsor you for another year. Either way, you agree that it doesn’t matter what you hear tonight when we go over the deal I made with Grady, or if Blount comes back and offers you twice what he already did. I won’t make you sex yourself up. We pretend to be engaged. I give you my word, you give me yours, and we’ll be partners on all levels for the next six months.”

  He couldn’t stop his voice from going deep and guttural when he’d said that. On all levels. The thought of her on her knees, her mouth level with his cock, stroking it with those delicate fingers before licking the—

  “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.” Please take it.

  She glared at him for a long moment while he held his breath.

  Finally, she huffed out a breath and softened her look—barely. “Fine. And I will win Rookie of the Year.”

  Fine. “Do we have a deal, then?” He put his hand out.

  Say yes. Belong to me for the next six months. Even if it was a sham, he couldn’t help the feeling of intense satisfaction that settled over him. His world stabilized, and the anger at Al, the frustration with this shitty project, faded.

  For a moment, she faltered, arms stiff and unmoving at her sides. But then she recovered, and slid her warm, small palm into his. Hell. Even her handshake felt passionate.

  “We have a deal.”

  Chapter Four

  She felt as if she’d just made a deal with the devil.

  This was probably the most foolish thing Kerri had ever done in her life. Even worse than when she was twelve years old and “borrowed” Dad’s truck for a few hours so she and her friends could go to the movies. Of course, by then, she’d already been driving karts for almost six years. She would have been safe—she had been safe.

  This deal with Ranger was a whole different beast.

  It was dangerous.

  She wasn’t sure why, but it felt that way. Not just because winning Rookie of the Year was no easy feat, especially against fellow rookie Ty Riggs. She’d grown up with Ty. They were pretty close. And she knew that, despite his easygoing boy-next-door exterior, he was an incredibly skilled, focused driver with a take-no-prisoners approach to racing.

  But it wasn’t the competition against Ty that was getting her adrenaline going. It was Ranger. Why was he gunning so hard for this, anyway? What did he really have to lose? She didn’t quite buy his rationale—it felt a little too convenient. From what she knew about Colt International, they were a multibillion dollar business already—something she’d found out when Colt had tried to strike the deal last year.

  A deal Ranger hadn’t been told about, apparently.

  He checked his watch again. “Looks like it’s showtime.” That big hard body came close to her again, making her shift into sensory overload. He was so close that she had to tip her head back to see his face, and when she did, his incredible scent filled her nose, making her pulse ratchet up.

  He might be a manipulative, domineering asshole, but—damn. He was sexy.

  Ranger brought a finger under her chin, stroking it gently over her soft skin. Could he tell how much he turned her on? Did he feel the strange attraction, too?

  “Should we do a rehearsal run?”

  Her confusion showed on her face, and he gave a half smile. Amused. “I don’t care how much you actually hate me. For the next six months, we’ll need to act like we’re madly in love. It might not hurt to have a practice kiss.”

  A practice kiss? A kiss. From Ranger. Merely watching him shape the word with those surprisingly sensuous lips was doing strange things to her body. His nearness, his voice—she arched ever so slightly, and the rough material of her racing suit rasped over one of the buttons on his jacket.

  A kiss.

  Oh, God, yes. Yes.

  She barely even registered that she was nodding until he had brought his lips a mere inch from hers.

  “Get out, Grady.” Ranger’s low growl made something burn low in her belly, a primal response to a strong man staking a claim. As soon as the words were out, he didn’t wait to see if Grady had bothered to leave. He closed the distance between them, and in the next instant everything she knew or felt was honed in on the gentle press of his lips against hers.

  Ranger.
>
  No matter what else, the man knew how to kiss. She was so absorbed in him that she barely registered the sound of a door shutting as Grady walked out, and she couldn’t even manage to feel embarrassed that she was lost, drowning in the soft sweep of his tongue over the seam of her lips, the way his arm snaked around her back and pulled her close, the ache of her swollen breasts as they pressed against his chest. It was the most incredible kiss she’d ever had. It was hot, deep, languorous and urgent all at the same time. It was—

  “Pretty good.” Ranger broke the kiss, pulling back so abruptly that she would have fallen on her ass if his arm hadn’t been wrapped around her. He released her then and stepped away, leaving her bewildered and breathless, while he looked completely composed and unaffected.

  Pretty good?

  She forced a casual shrug, trying to hide the way his unenthusiastic assessment stung. “Good enough, anyway.”

  Ranger gave her a smarmy smile. “Great. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t you go slap some makeup on your face and let’s do this conference.”

  Slap? Makeup? Of all the—

  Her hands fisted at her sides. “There’s only one thing I plan to slap around here, and it’s definitely not my own face.”

  * * *

  If he had tried to describe the heat he was feeling, just from that one kiss, “fire” wouldn’t even come close. “Inferno,” maybe. “Supernova,” almost.

  He’d half expected her to rear back and try to smack him. His plan had been to brush a quick kiss over her mouth, then move away. But God help him, the second their lips had touched, it was like he couldn’t get enough. She was so responsive and tasted so sweet, and she certainly gave as good as she got. And damn, did he want to give her everything he had. He wanted to pull her down on the hard tiled floor and push his throbbing cock deep inside of her.

  When it came to romance, he had a firm no-entanglement policy. That approach to relationships fit his lifestyle perfectly, since his job kept him on the road all the time. No strings, just sex. But this—Kerri—made him want the wrong things. To lose all that hard-won polish and fall back into the drawling accent of his youth.