Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2

by Pamela Britton

  “I saw him down there with you.”

  So that was it. Veronica had been spying. “Then you saw we had a meeting together,” Callie pronounced bravely. Lord, she hated being such a coward. If she had half a spine she’d tell Veronica to get lost, that she was merely doing her job. Instead she stopped in front of her, hoping against hope Veronica wasn’t about to embark upon one of her infamous tirades.

  “What I saw was Derrick Derringer inches away from you.”

  “We were trying to keep our voices down,” Callie lied. She hated lying. Despised it. Sometimes, however, it was necessary where Veronica was concerned. Lying could keep Veronica from leaping into a fit of rage, and Callie could tell by the look in her glittering green eyes that Veronica was seriously disturbed—in more ways than one. “You know. In case one of the other drivers heard us talking.”

  Veronica sauntered forward, stopping only inches away. She crossed her arms in front of her, flicking her long amber hair over one shoulder again. “About what?”

  “About the deal I offered him.”

  Callie could tell she was making headway. “What deal?”

  “I, ah…I offered him a private test session. Just me and him and a few necessary people. No spectators. No media. No curious bystanders. I told him he could pilot a car in complete privacy. You know, so he can see for himself if he likes it without anyone finding out.”

  A red brow crept up Veronica’s face like a poisonous snake. “You came up with that idea all by yourself?”

  The barometric pressure that was Callie’s temper began to rise. Okay, so Derrick had been the one to propose the idea. So what? Was it really so hard to believe she might have come up with it on her own? Did Veronica think so little of her?

  She did.

  From the time they’d first met, Callie had been made to feel like a lackey. She suspected Veronica’s holier-than-thou attitude was related to the zeros in her bank account. Never mind that Veronica had inherited her silver spoon. Veronica acted as if she were single-handedly responsible for the Adams’ wealth and that she, Callie, was nothing but a peon.

  “He’s coming to the test session, Veronica. As a favor to me.” Callie reasoned it was partly the truth. “But he doesn’t want anyone there, including you.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “That’s the deal.”

  Veronica’s eyes glittered briefly. She eyed Callie up and down, the little huff of…amusement? Was that what she’d heard? Laughter? Whatever it was, Callie could tell Veronica had silently reassured herself Callie was no competition.

  “It’s a ridiculous request, but I suppose I’m too busy to attend the test session in Missouri anyway.”

  So that’s how she would spin this. Figured.

  “Well, then.” She pasted a smile on her face so false, Callie thought that Veronica should consider a career in politics. “I guess congratulations are in order, Good job, Callie.”

  “Thank you.” Callie lifted her chin not because of her accomplishment. No. She faced her boss proudly because Derrick had wanted her. He’d made a pass at her, not Veronica.

  Her boss’s eyes narrowed. “Just remember what Derrick Derringer is to you.” She leaned down. “A client. Nothing more.”

  Unless she wanted him to be more.

  The way Veronica stared down at her, Callie might take Derrick up on his offer…just to spite her boss.

  Chapter Seven

  The next month passed in a blur, Callie spending the time finalizing the plans for what she liked to call the X-TREME Machine and, of course, being Veronica’s slave. They were still running full bore toward a February kick-off race next year, and much to Callie’s delight, interest had begun to grow. The drivers who’d attended their orientation had spread the word. The X-TREME league wasn’t a fly-by-night organization. They were the real deal and both driver and fans—yes, they had fans already thanks to social networking—were starting to get excited.

  The pressure was enormous.

  Not only had Callie been put in charge of all their day-to-day operations, she’d been the one to finalize all the engineering schematics on their new cars.

  They’d heard nothing from Derrick after an initial string of voice mails while they’d worked out a few of the details, and that suited Callie just fine. Inevitably, however, with every rise and fall of the sun, the day when she would see him again drew nearer. Even though he’d wanted it otherwise, Derrick had agreed to come in before the other drivers—three days before. Callie had been afraid if he came in afterward some lingering member of the press would catch wind of his arrival. Even so, there were no guarantees someone wouldn’t alert the media about his presence. So Callie had deduced a cover story. Derrick was a long-time friend, she’d claim. He’d offered to do her a favor by working out the bugs on her new car.

  “What time is your flight out?”

  A slash of Veronica’s red hair fell across one shoulder like a bloody knife as she poked her head into Callie’s office. As occurred more and more often of late, an instant bubble of resentment welled up inside of her. Veronica spent her days dashing between shopping dates with her mother and trips to this exotic city or that. Now that they’d hired Mike to take over marketing, Veronica seemed to think her only task was making the occasional appearance at their offices.

  Easy, Callie, Veronica’s paying the bills.

  That was great too. What Callie didn’t like, what set her teeth on edge every time, were all the articles and interviews Callie read or watched that detailed Veronica’s hard work to get her idea off the ground. Veronica’s X-TREME Racing League. Veronica’s brain child. Veronica’s blood sweat and tears (according to one recent on-line interview). It made Callie sick.

  “This afternoon. Around four. I want to be there first thing in the morning to oversee the unloading of the cars.” She’d be there a day ahead of Derrick’s arrival, plenty of time to get things set up.

  “I still don’t understand why he insisted I stay away.”

  Because he couldn’t stand Veronica’s attitude, or her obnoxious it’s-all-about-me persona or her cloying ways. Just a guess.

  “Don’t know.” Callie shrugged.

  “The annoying man won’t even return my calls.”

  Callie’s mood lifted. “He can be tough to get a hold of.”

  Veronica’s head cocked to one side as she slipped into Callie’s office. It made her already shoulder-length hair look even longer. She must have had it touched up recently because it appeared blonder than normal. Stunning. That was the word to describe her in her designer business suit that consisted of a short black jacket and narrow skirt that helped to emphasize her long, long legs.

  “Are you nervous?” Veronica asked.

  Terrified. “Not really,” she lied. “We’ve hired a pretty talented group of mechanics to keep things running smoothly.” Both men and women. That was something Callie had insisted upon. There would be no gender-bias in the X-TREME league, another pet name of hers. All were welcome.

  “Let’s hope Derrick doesn’t get killed driving one of our cars.”

  Way to think positive. Callie stood up abruptly. “He won’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be on my way. My flight leaves in three hours and I still need to go home and pack.”

  Veronica stepped back from the door as Callie collected her things, but her boss didn’t impart any words of wisdom when Callie tried to brush past. Oh, no. What she did was reach out and grab Callie’s arms.

  “We have a lot riding on this.” Her voice sounded like the snap of a bull whip. “Things better go well…”

  She left her words hanging, but Callie didn’t need her to fill in the blanks. “Don’t worry, Veronica. I’ve taken care of everything.” Callie knew she’d emphasized “I” just a little too much, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself—not that Veronica appeared to notice. Her boss released her. Callie brushed past.

  “I’ll see you there.”

  That caused Callie to draw up short
. “You’ll be there?”

  Veronica gave her a look usually reserved for the village idiot. “Of course. This is my baby, isn’t it?”

  “It’s our baby,” Callie couldn’t resist saying. “And I just assumed you’d stay at home.” Like you always do.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not about to miss this. Of course, it’ll mess up my work load.” She sighed heavily. “But one must do what one must do.”

  Callie almost laughed. What work load?

  “What day are you arriving?” Because the whole time Callie had been setting things up, she’d worried Veronica would ignore Derrick’s dictum for Veronica to stay away.

  “Oh, not until Friday,” Veronica purred. “I have so much to do.”

  That’s what she would tell people, Callie realized. She would never admit she wasn’t there to watch Derrick because they forbade her to enter. No way.

  “Okay,” Callie said. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Look forward to it!” Veronica called out after her.

  Callie wished she could say the same. This whole time she’d been under the misapprehension Veronica wouldn’t be around. Now she knew that wasn’t the case, it added a whole other layer of stress to Callie’s day.

  She tried to get some rest on the flight east. It’d been a logistic nightmare to locate a track big enough to suit their purposes and that wouldn’t mind renting to the upstart X-TREME Racing League. They’d had the same problem when trying to put together the race schedule. Most track owners didn’t want to step on NASCAR’s toes and the X-TREME league was already causing a stir. As a result, most of their events were held at race tracks with no connection to the racing giant. So as she headed to a little town in Missouri that most of the other drivers—and Veronica—had never heard of, and that sported only modest accommodations for race teams, Callie hoped the small-town location didn’t scare any of the drivers away.

  She arrived to skies filled with dismal gray clouds and a cloying humidity that immediately caused the white blouse she wore to cling to her flesh. She had the kind of hair that instantly frizzed when assaulted by moisture-rich air. She knew her entire weekend would be spent trying to tame the strands into something resembling a hairstyle.

  “Have a nice flight?”

  She stopped so abruptly, her rolling suitcase clipped her in the heels, and when she turned, she came face to face with the one man on Earth that never failed to rob her of breath.

  Derrick Derringer.

  She looked as stunned as he’d hoped she would.

  He’d been planning this for a month, always answering her queries with polite and sometimes terse replies, never letting her know he’d come to a decision where she was concerned. It was as if he drove upon a complicated track, one that required constant adjustments to his part, some small, some large, but the end goal was always the same. Her in his bed.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I thought I’d give you a ride to your hotel.”

  Her mouth dropped open. He took a moment to study her. She wore a pair of black slacks, a form-fitting white blouse tucked into the waist. She’d left her hair down, the ends of it beginning to curl amidst the evening heat. It was nearing midnight, her flight having been delayed. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t due back in town until Saturday, three days from now.

  “You don’t have to do that.” She looked around as if seeking an exit. “I need to rent a car, anyway.”

  “Then I’ll give you a ride to the rental car agency.”

  She appeared uncertain, her naturally long lashes blinking a few times.

  “Or do you like riding the rental car shuttles?”

  He knew he had her then. “Come on.” He almost placed a hand on her back, resisted the urge. “I’m parked right across the road.”

  She’d flown into Kansas City and the airport was as busy as any of the other major facilities in the United States. He’d parked directly across from the terminal, Derrick leading her across a busy roadway packed with mini-buses and cars, all of them waiting to pick up arriving passengers. Overhead lights cast a silvery sheen over the asphalt. Her suitcase wheels clicked over the cracks in the pavement. Click-click-click-click, his reassurance that she hadn’t chickened out and made a dash for the hills.

  “Here we go.” He clicked the unlock button causing a sleek, silver Ford Mustang to chirp. “I’ll take your suitcase.”

  “That’s okay.” She pulled the handle bar toward her as if the bag contained a million dollars she feared he’d steal.

  “I’m just going to put it in the back.” He popped the trunk to illustrate.

  He had his work cut out for him, he realized. There was no disguising the I-can-take-care-of-myself glint in her eyes. Nor the BACK OFF she all but shouted. He studied her for half a heartbeat, wondering why he even bothered. There were plenty of women who’d be thrilled to spend a day with him, especially these days. He was at the top of his game, the media attention surreal. Usually, he could pull on a baseball cap and some dark sunglasses and avoid being recognized. Not lately. In fact, while he’d been standing outside waiting for Callie, he’d noticed several people staring at him as if they thought they knew him but couldn’t figure out from where.

  “Nice car,” she said as he moved around to the other side in time to open the door for her.

  “One of the perks of the job.” He gave her a smile he hoped projected FRIENDLY! HARMLESS! DON’T WANT TO GET IN YOUR PANTS, which he did, but she didn’t need to know that…yet. “I get free rental cars.”

  “You’ll be driving the same kind of car tomorrow.”

  “I will.”

  She nodded. “I love the Ford Mustangs. It was my first choice for the X-TREME Machines.”

  “Is that what you call them?” he asked with a smile, watching as she slid into the car.

  “Yes. We’ve even copyrighted the name.”

  What was it about her that smelled so good? So sweet. It was as if she’d rolled in a giant vat of honey.

  “Smart thinking.” He closed the door for her. She looked up at him as if she would have never expected such a courtly gesture from the likes of him.

  Little did she know.

  He had a whole list of tricks up his sleeve.

  “What did you mean you get free rental cars?” she asked once he’d slipped inside.

  “Anytime I need a car I just call someone and they arrange it.”

  “What someone?”

  Her hair had grown more and more frizzy. He took a moment to study the effects as she clicked her seatbelt into place. It did something to her face. Softened the angular edges of her chin so that she looked more youthful. “The car manufacturer I race for.”

  “Oh.”

  She looked tired, he noticed. Exhausted. He’d toyed with the idea of insisting they have dinner together, but now that he stared at her worn-out profile, he could tell that wasn’t a good idea.

  “Who’s your rental car through?” he asked.

  Oh, well. If her damn flight hadn’t been delayed maybe things would have worked out better. As it stood right now, disappointment dragged his shoulders down.

  “I don’t know.” She blew a hank of hair away from her face. “I’m so beat right now I think I might have forgotten my last name.”

  “Derringer,” he offered quickly, then just as quickly wished for it back. Bizarre thing to say. They’d never share a name.

  “Yeah, right,” she mumbled, clearly echoing his sentiment. “I don’t know how I’m going to drive to the hotel. Stupid Xanex. I have to take them to calm my nerves before I fly, but they always make me so sleepy.”

  “You have to drug yourself?”

  She nodded. “Airplanes scare the crap out of me.”

  “Wow. I would have never guessed.” She didn’t strike him as the type to be afraid of anything.

  “The landing.” He watched her stifle a yawn as he pulled out of the parking spot. “That’s the worst part. And the take off. I always th
ink we’re going to burst into a ball of flames.”

  He stifled a laugh. “Well, if you need a ride to the hotel, I can do that.” He put the car into first gear, the street lamps overhead tossing white blobs onto his hood as he drove forward. “You can get your rental car tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

  She shook her head before leaning it against the headrest. “No time.”

  He’d parked only a few spots away from the payment kiosk, one of those electronic what’s-it that always drove him nuts. They always placed the damn things too far away from the driver’s window. The electronic burr of the motor filled the cabin as he rolled the thing down, his attention taken away for a moment while he inserted his ticket stub and then money.

  “You’re too tired to drive,” he pronounced.

  “No, I’m not.” Her voice was a near mumble.

  “I’m taking you straight to your hotel.”

  No response. He shot her a quick glance.

  Out cold, her glasses having slid half-way down her nose already.

  Damn.

  He stopped the car. There was no mistaking it. The woman had fallen instantly asleep. He almost laughed…almost, because what captured his attention was the way her face completely transformed when not burdened by the weight of the world. Her lips softened, making them look bigger. Her skin seemed to glow—as if the dark cloud of worry that clung to her soul had been banished by the airiness of sleep.

  Without giving himself time to weigh the pros and cons, he reached over and gently removed her glasses. It was either that or they’d fall from her face. She twitched a little, but didn’t stir. Derrick sat back and admired his handiwork. With her hair down, the glasses removed from her face and the softness of sleep clinging to her skin, she became beautiful.

  And he got so much pleasure from watching her.

  He forced himself to look away. Like it or not, there would be no rental car in her future tonight.

  Except he didn’t know where she was staying. He assumed it was the same hotel he was booked at, but he didn’t know for sure.

  He was loath to wake her. If he did, she wouldn’t go back to sleep again.