Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

  She insisted they use the stairwell.

  The last thing Callie needed was to run into Veronica in the hallway, because as far-fetched as it seemed, that would be just her luck. So she listened to the thud-ump of her briefcase wheels on the concrete steps beneath them, Derrick’s own steps muffled by the noise.

  He wanted more information on the X-TREME Racing League.

  She should be overjoyed, but Callie couldn’t help but feel a healthy dose of skepticism. She’d done a miserable job at reading Derrick’s true intentions. He’d actually thought she’d wanted to jump into bed with him. Hah. As if she’d be interested in a one-night stand with a man like him.

  Who was she kidding?

  The whole way back to her room she’d been secretly giddy he’d tried to kiss her. Once the shock had worn off, it’d been all she could do not to laugh. That was why she’d wanted to cackle like a mad woman in front of Veronica. Derrick had all but blackmailed her into appearing at his room…because he’d wanted to bed her. Her. Plain-faced, glasses-wearing, pudgy Callie Monroe. Not Veronica.

  “Slow down there, hot shot.”

  It had changed everything. Before she’d been able to look at Derrick like a diamond ring behind a wall of bullet proof glass. Something she’d never have but she could admire from afar, but the fact was she could’ve had him—if she’d been the type to jump into bed with a near stranger—well, that was heady stuff.

  They made her way to the lobby level, his presence behind her like the proverbial elephant in the room.

  Would he have really done it?

  Would he have slept with her? Did she dare to believe he found her attractive? It was like standing on a teeter-totter. One wrong move and she might tumble down the rabbit hole.

  “Here we are,” she said in a sing-song voice. What a relief. She hated knowing he was behind her, wondering if he watched her, to have to resist the urge to glance back.

  The stairwell’s exit placed them in a secluded section of the hotel. Potted palms shielded them from the view of other guests. Windows stretched along the wall to her left, Callie glanced outside and immediately decided to head out of doors.

  She needed fresh air.

  “Come on.” He was like a drug. Heady to her system, and she absolutely needed to ignore the fact that she found him devastatingly attractive. God, if she were honest with herself, she would have to admit to having a crush on Derrick Derringer for years. Maybe even half a decade, but she didn’t want to think about that. Not when she was trying to sign him for the X-TREME Racing League, and not when she’d considered the possibility of being kissed by him about as remote as finding a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. All that had changed.

  Florida’s steamy heat assaulted her skin the moment she opened a side door. Worse, it fogged up her glasses. She wiped at the lenses surreptitiously, embarrassed and hoping Derrick hadn’t spotted the moisture. What a geek.

  She had no idea where she was going, but she didn’t care. She needed to put some distance between them. Regain her equilibrium. Sell him on the X-TREME Racing League. That was the goal here, not to think about his lips against hers.

  “How’s over there look to you?” she asked, pointing to an area where hotel management had set up some wrought-iron tables with dark-green umbrellas sprouting up from the middle.

  “Looks fine to me.” His Southern drawl poured down her spine like maple syrup.

  Stop it.

  Now was not the time to act like a pubescent teenager with a high-school crush. She had to pull herself together. To focus.

  She turned, making the mistake of meeting his gaze before she sat down at the table.

  His eyes were the color of pralines. Soft. Sweet. Tempting.

  Stop. It.

  “All right. Let me see if I can find a plug. I think my laptop battery is low.”

  It wasn’t. She just needed time to compose herself. Her hands shook. She’d turned clumsy. Had lost her breath. It occurred to her that she might be on the verge of her very first panic attack.

  Easy, Callie. You can do this.

  Fortunately, an outlet was nearby. She managed to insert the cord into the wall without making a fool of herself in some hitherto unimaginable way. When she straightened from her task, she found herself wishing for her jacket. She was exposed to his view, the ends of her white blouse tucked into her waistline. As a result, the size of her hips was perfectly emphasized. She had big breasts. It was her one asset, if one wanted to call big boobs an asset. Usually she kept them well hidden. Suddenly they seemed the size of Mount Everest as she took a seat across from him, something compounded by the fact that she caught him staring at them.

  “Ahem,” she coughed, clearing her throat. “Let me pull up the presentation.”

  “You should wear your hair down more often.”

  She refused to meet his gaze, knew she couldn’t because if she did, he might spot the way his comment had affected her. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop the swipe of red which bloomed up her neck and into her face.

  “Here it is.” She clicked on a button. “It’ll take a second to load.”

  She locked her eyes on her computer monitor, fiddling with her keyboard as if she were still in the process of loading the document. She wasn’t, but he didn’t know that. Her screen concealed her fingers from his view.

  “You don’t wear makeup, do you?”

  She gulped, marveled for a moment. Derrick Derringer sat across from her. He’d noticed she didn’t wear makeup. He’d kissed her earlier.

  “No,” she answered absently, pretending indifference. “I don’t.”

  “I like that.”

  She couldn’t stop her eyes from latching onto his. “Yeah, terrific.” As retorts went, it wasn’t all that great. “I think I’ll skip the intro. We went over a lot of that in California.” She clicked a few more buttons. “Here we go, the piece I really wanted you to see, and the part of the presentation that generated a lot of buzz. This is the chassis I designed.”

  Staring at the familiar schematic, admiring its sleek lines, the aerodynamic edge she hoped to give the drivers, well, it took her breath away. To an outsider it would look like a mishmash of pipes connected to four tires. The spot where the engine would go was blank. The motor she’d helped to develop would be illustrated on another page. She focused on her pride and joy.

  “As you can see, it’s different than your Cup chassis. We focused more on driver safety since you’re expected to exceed the mandated speeds affiliated with stock car racing. So I’ve added extra bracing in several strategic areas.” She pointed to the cockpit area. “Here and here—”

  “Wait. You designed this?”

  This time it wasn’t hard to meet his gaze, and the look he gave her… “Is that so hard to believe?”

  He gaped at her. Callie almost laughed, but her amusement quickly turned into a frown. Did he not believe she had a degree in engineering? If he’d been checking her credentials surely he’d heard about her desire to re-vamp a stock car chassis? Then again, she’d never really been given an opportunity to show off those skills and so how could he know?

  “Not only did I design the chassis, but I designed the engine also.”

  He seemed dumfounded.

  She leaned in close to him. “And I promise you, Derrick, my designs will make you go faster than you’ve ever been in your life.”

  Chapter Six

  Derrick had a hard time looking away from her. The lenses of her glasses were still moist from the humid air, but he found it kind of endearing. As he stared into her eyes he finally figured out what it was about their green depths he found so attractive.

  They shone with intelligence.

  The realization damn near knocked him on his ass. He’d been so busy bedding whatever woman came his way—and that was a lot of women thanks to his celebrity status—that he’d stopped caring if they had two brain cells to rub together.

  “I mentioned the engine blocks when we met in Cali
fornia,” she was saying, clicking on a button before turning her laptop toward him again. “But I didn’t mention the changes I made to the design of the block. I’ll be honest, I stole a lot of this from Jaguar. Well, not stole, exactly—just…borrowed—with a few tweaks of my own. So you’ll notice that I moved the valve train a bit…”

  He was mesmerized. Light danced behind the lenses of her glasses. Pride, excitement and a whole host of other emotions transformed her face from being merely average to something close to stunning.

  “So you think you’ll gain how many extra horsepower?” he heard himself ask.

  “Fifty, maybe one hundred.” She pushed the frames back up her nose. “Which, as I’m sure you know, is a significant gain—and all with the same sized block as the one you’re used to using. It’s all in the way I’ve engineered the power train.”

  What was he going to do about this? He’d already made it pretty obvious he wanted to sleep with her, but she’d turned him down flat. Frankly, his big toe still throbbed. So if a straightforward assault didn’t work, maybe he could coax her into his bed.

  He leaned back, liking the idea. She seemed completely oblivious to his scrutiny, her pretty green eyes darting over the screen as she pointed out various improvements. She had freckles. Not a lot, but enough that he found himself wondering what they’d taste like. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d kissed a woman on the cheek without tasting her makeup. He would bet she had sweet skin.

  Before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, clasped her hands. “Have dinner with me.”

  Subtle, Derringer. Real subtle.

  Eyes made bigger by the lenses of her glasses widened. “Excuse me.”

  “We got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Foot being the operative word,” she quipped.

  “Yeah. Something like that.”

  He hadn’t let go of her hand, wondered what she’d do if he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. No. It was too soon to do that. She’d take some wooing, this one. The thought filled him with anticipation.

  “Derrick, I’m flattered you’d like to spend time with me—”

  “But you don’t think it’s a good idea,” he finished for her, releasing her fingers.

  She pulled her hand back. “I’m glad you understand.”

  “Actually, I don’t. You work for X-TREME Racing. I drive for Double T Racing. What’s the problem with the two of us dating?”

  She blushed again. Even though they were quickly losing the evening light, he spotted the color which spread across her cheeks.

  “You want to date me.”

  She was flattered. She might try to hide the fact from him, but she betrayed herself with her expressive eyes.

  “I do, Callie,” he said softly, using every weapon in his arsenal to sway her to his side. “You fascinate me.”

  She blinked a few times, and when she met his gaze again he could tell he’d blown it. He’d laid it on too thick.

  “Thank you.” Her tone was cool. “I’m flattered, but I think we both know I’m not your type.”

  “No?”

  Her gaze darted away for a second and he knew she was recalling the moment right after his lips had connected with her. The moment when she’d softened for a moment, an instant really, but long enough.

  “You felt like my type earlier.”

  She closed the lid of her laptop, not quickly, but deliberately, her movements carefully controlled. He knew better. He could read her discomfort like he could the contours of a race track.

  “I think this meeting is over.” She unplugged the power cord from the back of her computer. “If you’re interested in driving for the X-TREME Racing League we’d love to have you at a test session next month. Worse case we could really use your input.” She bent, unzipped her computer bag, pulled something out before straightening again. Her pretty hair had fallen over one shoulder. “This is the presentation I was attempting to go over with you. Flip through it if you have the time. I think you’ll find we’ve covered all the bases.”

  “Callie.”

  She bent again, slipped her computer inside her case. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Derringer.” She got up from her chair and turned toward the wall plug. He got up too, and he could tell he’d surprised her when she turned back around, cord in hand.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You don’t scare me.” He could tell that was a lie. Her eyes were wider than normal. Her chest rose and fell with greater and greater frequency.

  He closed the distance between them, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he pushed the issue. That wasn’t his style. “How much is my cooperation worth?”

  The lashes flared wide before they narrowed. “If you’re inferring what I think you’re inferring, forget it. I’m not some kind of whore.”

  “I wasn’t inferring that at all.” Or had he been? “I meant, how much money do I stand to make if I join your series?” He took another tiny step closer with the words.

  “That’s in the prospectus. Page twelve. It’s a list of the races we’ve already scheduled and the purses we’ll be offering.”

  “I’m not talking about my winnings. Judging by the faces in that room, you don’t have anybody worth a damn willing to race for you.”

  “That remains to be seen.” She tilted her chin up and looked for all the world like a sexy lawyer in her dark-brown glasses.

  He leaned toward her. They were inches apart now, Derrick able to smell her milk-and-honey skin. It turned him on. Reminded him of the old days, back in high school when he used to have to work to gain a woman’s attention.

  “We might have any number of people jump on board before the start of the season.”

  “But nobody who’s won as many championships as me. Or fans of me. Admit it. You need me to help fill those grandstands of yours.”

  She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just held his gaze. “Yes, we do.”

  Her honesty was as heady as a drug. “You need me.” He shifted slightly so that their bodies nearly touched.

  “I won’t deny that.” Her lashes flickered behind her glasses. When viewed this closely, her eyes were truly gorgeous.

  “So how much is it worth to you?” he asked again.

  “We’re not going down that road again, are we?”

  “What road?”

  “Insisting I have dinner with you.”

  “That was a mistake,” he pronounced quickly. “A misunderstanding. I thought your interest in me was personal.”

  It was personal. She might stand there trying to appear cool as a cucumber, but he could tell his close proximity had an effect on her. Him as well, damn it. He’d begun to grow rock hard.

  “Then what do you have in mind?”

  You.

  In bed.

  For a weekend.

  The words were on the tip of his tongue, but as much as he wanted to say them, he knew he couldn’t. “I’ll show up at your test…”

  “And?”

  “You’ll be mine.”

  Her eyes flared.

  “Not in that way,” he said even though that’s exactly what he was thinking. “I want your undivided attention again. Like I have here. Just you and me. No Veronica. No media. Nobody but you and me at your trial run.”

  “Impossible. An engineer needs to be there in case we have problems with the car. A crew chief too. Pit crew. Timers. Someone to haul the car to the track.”

  “Not true. I’ve tested plenty of cars with only a crew chief and a few other people. Just bring in the necessary bodies. I can shake the bugs out myself.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t want to deal with Veronica and a huge contingent of people around. Frankly, the fewer people who know about my presence the better. The last thing I need is for my owner to catch wind of this.”

  She hadn’t moved an inch. Faced off with him bravely despite the pulse beating at her neck. She challenged him. How long w
ould it take him to get her into his bed? Would he be able to get her there?

  “Fine,” she snapped. “I’ll see if I can arrange it.”

  “No trying,” he warned. “Either we do this privately or not at all.”

  Her eyes glittered, he watched as her lips pressed together before she gritted out, “As you wish.”

  He leaned as close as he dared. “I’ll see you soon, Callie.”

  Her chest rose and fell, faster and faster, evidence of her interest in him, but not by word or deed did she give the game away. Good for her.

  “Good bye, Derrick.” She turned away from him, clutching the handle of her briefcase as if she might bash him over the head with it should he try to kiss her again.

  He very nearly laughed.

  This would be interesting, he thought as he watched her walk away. Very interesting, indeed.

  “Stupid, domineering, over-sexed man,” Callie grumbled as she walked away. He’d been toying with her back there. He’d known she wasn’t as immune to him as she claimed. He hadn’t bedded thousands of women not to learn a thing or two. Well, all right, maybe not thousands, but she would bet he’d slept with more women than a Serta mattress. She refused to be the next name on the list.

  Her briefcase clipped her in the heels as she jerked the wheels over a door jamb. God willing Veronica would be gone. Maybe she really should get her own room.

  Alas, they were completely booked, dread dragging Callie’s shoulders down as she turned away from the reception desk. She didn’t think she could take any more today. What she needed was rest.

  She knew the moment she opened the door she was doomed. The smell of Veronica’s perfume assaulted her nose, but it wasn’t until she faced the woman that Callie realized she was in trouble.

  “You didn’t tell me Derrick had a thing for you.”

  Callie glanced behind her boss. She stood in front of the window again. The sun had set and so she was outlined in shadow. Like Darth Vader in front of a portal of stars.

  “Excuse me?” Callie asked, not because she hadn’t heard her boss, but because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Derrick didn’t have a thing for her. Not really. He’d been willing to boink her because she’d been conveniently handy. That’s all.