Hard to Resist

by Jean Brashear

  Finally the door eased open a bit and Rue stuck her head around the crack.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay. We’ll talk about baseball.”

  “Baseball?”

  “Yeah. Do you like the St. Louis Cardinals?”

  “I think they walk on water.”

  Andrew didn’t even let himself chalk up her love of his favorite team. He told himself it didn’t matter. He was simply passing the time till Dean and Patsy arrived.

  Grinning, Rue sashayed out, plopped into a seat, crossed her legs and started swinging her right foot. Her booted foot.

  Rue was wearing red cowgirl boots. What else?

  Andrew didn’t make the mistake of grinning again. Rue had more prickles than a desert cactus. He wasn’t about to grin himself into another corner where he’d have to talk his way out.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have to do anything. When Patsy and Dean bustled in, their excitement and big personalities electrified the plane’s cabin.

  Andrew sat back, buckled in and breathed a sigh of relief. The only problem was, his gaze kept straying toward Rue. As the plane taxied down the runway and charted a course north, the thing he concentrated most on was trying to forget how her kisses tasted and how she had felt in his arms.

  THE WEATHER WAS BEAUTIFUL for flying. Dean’s pilot set the plane down in record time.

  When Andrew emerged, his spirits lifted at the sight of the FastMax plane parked near the hangar, along with about thirty other private jets. Separating himself from Patsy and her guest, he whipped out his cell phone to call his stepson.

  “Garrett, how does everything look?”

  “The car’s here, looking good, and the weather prediction for the weekend is hundred percent sunshine. It’ll be a hot track.”

  Speaking of hot, Rue was off the plane. Andrew could smell her perfume. He made himself concentrate on matters at hand.

  “Better than a wet one,” he told Garrett, and then had an erotic image that wouldn’t go away. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  “The roads are already jam packed. It’ll probably take you an hour or longer.”

  That was fine with Andrew. An hour would give him time to get himself under control.

  The rental cars were already waiting, one for Andrew, the other for Dean, Patsy and Rue. His sister’s efficiency at work. But leave it to her to pick sports models. Two convertibles just begging for the tops to go down.

  “Great.” Rue was as excited as a kid at a Christmas shop.

  Dragging his attention away from Rue, Andrew pocketed his phone and walked over to kiss his sister on the cheek. “’Bye, Patsy. See you later.”

  “At dinner tonight, Andrew. Don’t you dare miss it.”

  “I’ll try my best to be there.” Andrew put on his sunglasses and grabbed his bag. “But I make no promises.”

  Since it would be impolite not to say anything at all to Rue, Andrew turned and waved in her general direction to indicate his goodbye included everybody.

  When he strode off he was whistling. It wasn’t until he’d gotten into his car that he realized it was the Ray Charles song Rue had been singing. “Release Me.” A song about love gone wrong.

  The only good thing Andrew could say about his song choice was that the bottom line was appropriate.

  Andrew was at a crossroads. If he wanted any peace of mind, he had to make another choice: free himself of his improbable attraction to Rue or follow it and see where it led.

  AFTER THEY’D CHECKED IN, Rue had the rest of the afternoon to herself. Andrew was at the track and Patsy and Dean were immediately caught up in television and newspaper interviews as well as meetings with sponsors.

  Rue took a leisurely swim in the pool, then put on shorts and a T-shirt and went for a stroll around the hotel grounds.

  The sun was already going down when she stepped back into the lobby. And there was Andrew, caught in the beam of camera lights and fielding questions from a cadre of reporters. Seeing him so unexpectedly tripped her heart into double time. She’d thought he’d still be at the track.

  Rue stood just on the periphery of the lights, along with hundreds of other race fans eager for autographs and firsthand information.

  “Mr. Clark, do you expect FastMax to win back-to-back Sprint Cups?”

  Andrew’s smile was easy, his stance exuded confidence. “I always expect to win.”

  “Last year Garrett was the underdog. What would you call him now?”

  “Racing is a team effort. Always. I’d call FastMax the team everybody has to beat.”

  Rue shivered. This was an Andrew she’d never seen up close and personal, a self-assured, strongly competitive businessman. She’d known she was traveling with the powerhouses of NASCAR racing, but seeing Andrew in action gave her a visceral satisfaction she knew would keep her awake long into the night.

  Fascinated, she found herself caught in the beams of his blue eyes. Was his sudden boyish smile just for her? Rue wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. When Andrew was whisked off toward the meeting rooms, probably to meet with sponsors, Rue went back outside to walk along the water’s edge. She needed to collect herself before dinner.

  AS FAR AS RUE was concerned, the restaurant on Seneca Lake was perfect—soul-satisfying food, down-home atmosphere and cheerful waitstaff. Patsy and Dean had gotten a choice table overlooking the water.

  Rue had ordered corn-and-lobster chowder which was so delicious it should come with a warning that it was possibly addictive. But as much as she relished the food, the best part of the meal was sitting beside Andrew. In the presence of Patsy and Dean, Grace and Garrett, Sophia and her husband, Justin Murphy, and Kent and his wife, Tanya, Andrew’s personality shone through.

  And Rue liked what she saw, a man who loved his family and laughed often. Without the pressure of being on a date with him, Rue fell into the comfort of easy camaraderie.

  She could get used to this.

  “I’m sorry to leave early, but I need to get to the track.” Andrew pushed back his chair.

  “Why don’t you take Rue so she can see the track at night?” Patsy said.

  “Rue?” Andrew surprised her by asking.

  “I’d love to.”

  Her answer pleased Patsy, but it wasn’t her friend Rue intended to please. For once, when something good was offered, she wasn’t going to rationalize and trump up reasons why she shouldn’t seize the moment. She was going to follow her heart.

  He took her arm and escorted her from the restaurant. A gentlemanly gesture that felt intensely personal. Shivers rolled over her, partly from the breeze coming off the water, but mostly from sheer excitement.

  Without a word, Andrew pulled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering.

  “That feels good, Andrew.”

  “You’re wearing such a light wrap I thought you might need my coat.”

  Maybe it was the moonlight. Maybe it was the moment. Whatever the reason, Rue felt daring.

  “I’m talking about your hands.”

  Andrew trailed his fingers lightly across her cheek, then opened the car door and she slid into the passenger seat.

  “I’ve never ridden with you in a convertible.” She was glad the moonlight covered her flush.

  “We’ll have to remedy that. Do you mind if we drive with the top down?”

  “Not at all. I love the night sky.”

  “So do I.”

  He drove the way he did everything else, with expert ease. Totally comfortable, Rue leaned her head back. The sky almost took her breath away—a crescent moon and a billion stars flung across a deep blue velvet canvas.

  “Pinch me if I’m dreaming,” she murmured, and that said it all.

  ANDREW COULD HARDLY keep his eyes on the road for watching Rue. Without artifice, she had totally abandoned herself to the enjoyment of the drive. It thrilled him that she enjoyed simple pleasures—a quiet dinner with his family, the wind in her hair,
the constellations, a long drive without the need to clutter it with chatter.

  She was still quiet when he took her hand and led her into the empty stands of the race track. Though there were signs of the pending race all around them—the closed-up haulers, the motor homes, spurts of activity near the track—without the frantic scene of racing cars and pit crews and a hundred thousand screaming fans, the track looked serene, almost surreal.

  Beside him, Rue became very still. Andrew started to ask her what she thought, but at his second instinct made him look at her instead. Tears glistened on her cheeks.

  “Rue?”

  “Do you feel it, Andrew?”

  He did, of course, but he was quiet, waiting for her to put her feelings into words.

  “Everything is right here,” she said. “The energy, the excitement, the spirit of millions of drivers and families and fans who love NASCAR racing.” She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

  For the second time since he’d met Rue, Andrew saw her as a woman he might love.

  He traced the tears on her cheeks, then moved his fingers across her lips. Her breath hitched, but she stood on the bleachers, waiting for what he would do next.

  Andrew didn’t ponder his next move. It was as natural as breathing. He kissed her. She tasted of sweet creamery butter and mulled cider, of passion and promise, of moonlight and magic.

  The kiss had its own momentum, and Andrew found himself hauling Rue against his body, urging her closer as she gave in to her feelings.

  If it was possible to feel passion in every bone and sinew, now was the moment.

  If there had been a bed nearby, a sofa or even four walls and a floor, Andrew would have seized the moment. But this was not the place, not the time. Too much was at stake to get sidetracked by passion.

  But once he’d shifted gears and floored the gas, it wasn’t that easy to bring his runaway desire to a standstill.

  He eased his hold, trying to catch a deep breath and regain control.

  “Andrew.” Rue leaned back. “I don’t want to rush into things again.”

  If she hadn’t wanted it, she had certainly put on a good show. Andrew’s first reaction was to say, you’re right and walk away. His better nature told him to hold still.

  In one of life’s great twists of irony, Andrew discovered that the Man Who Doesn’t Understand Woman longed for the woman he’d thought totally unsuitable. He longed for her, not merely as the current object of his desire, but as a woman who would bring a new dimension into his life, a sense of fun and laughter and joy he hadn’t even known he was missing until he’d met Rue Larrabee.

  But was he willing to go the next step and risk his sorry history repeating itself?

  “What do you want, Rue?”

  “Not you. Not like this.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Oh, dear.” She stepped back and ran her hands through her hair. “I said that wrong. I didn’t mean, not you, specifically.”

  “It sounded pretty specific.”

  “Actually, I do want you. Probably more than I’ve ever wanted any man. But not here. Not like this.”

  “You’re right. Though I imagine this track has seen all kinds of thrills, I don’t want to add to the lore.”

  Rue smiled, and he took it as a good sign.

  “It seems we’re explosive together, Andrew.”

  “Yes. We keep proving that.”

  “I don’t want to let passion get in the way of getting to know who you really are.”

  “What you see is the real me. I don’t play games, Rue.”

  “I have to be certain. I can’t let you be just another man who breaks my heart.”

  Andrew didn’t want to break her heart. But did he want to keep it? It was time to put on the brakes and decide exactly what he wanted to do with this complex woman who could entice him, madden him and enchant him, all within the space of five minutes.

  “I’ll take you back to the Harbor Inn.”

  “I know you have work to do here. I can hang around until you’re finished.”

  “I could be here all night.” He picked up her sweater and his jacket, then draped both of them over her shoulders. “Besides, you’ve already proved to be a bigger distraction than I can handle.”

  “Would you call that a good start on getting to know you?”

  “Rue, I think we got to know each other at Cut ’N’ Chat.”

  “Don’t remind me. I’m trying to reform.”

  Twenty minutes later they arrived at the hotel. “Promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t change too much. I kinda like you the way you are.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Good.”

  Andrew left her at her door, but he didn’t kiss her. He didn’t dare. Not with her bed just a couple of feet away.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FOR RUE, THE next few days were jammed with every kind of excitement imaginable. With Max, Patsy and Dean’s driver at her disposal, as well as a rental car, she was free to go anywhere she wanted. They, as well as Andrew, were constantly besieged by the press and their obligations to sponsors.

  Though Watkins Glen was a great spot for tourists, Rue hadn’t come to sightsee. She spent most of her time at the track. The day of the practice runs, Grace invited her for breakfast in the motor home she and Garrett shared in the Drivers’ and Owners’ Lot, accessible only through a security gate.

  With homemade biscuits, sausage, bacon, Nassau grits and tomato gravy, breakfast was a gourmet feast. Not surprising considering Grace’s cooking talents.

  The big surprise was Andrew. Just as Grace was pouring coffee, he came through the door.

  “Coffee smells good, Grace.” He clasped his son’s shoulder, kissed his daughter-in-law’s cheek, then leaned down and brushed his lips across Rue’s. She thought she’d die of happiness on the spot.

  “Sit down,” Grace told him. “You need to eat.”

  “No time. I’m having breakfast with the sponsors. Can you fix me coffee to go?”

  “You bet.”

  His gaze captured Rue for a heady second, then he turned to Garrett and said, “Good luck, son. You’re a champ and don’t you forget it.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Rue.” He leaned in close and handed her a FastMax T-shirt and cap. “Will you wear these? For me?”

  “Oh, my goodness. Yes!”

  “If you’ll promise to cheer loudly, Garrett might sign them.” Andrew gave her a wink and another quick kiss, and before she could react, he grabbed his coffee and was out the door.

  “Looks like you and Dad have a thing going.”

  “Hush up, Garrett. You’re embarrassing her.” Grace kissed him. “For luck, baby. Now get your cute butt out of here and drive like a champ.”

  Garrett posted great laps in each of the two morning practices while Rue sat beside Grace in her newly signed FastMax finery and cheered.

  LATE THAT NIGHT, Rue was so wound up she could hardly sleep. Between the excitement of seeing her first out of town NASCAR race and thinking about Andrew’s quick kisses in front of his family, Rue had rolled her sheet into knots.

  Switching on the light, she padded to the bathroom, then glanced at the clock. Major mistake. It was 2:00 a.m. and she knew she’d never fall asleep in her current state.

  Throwing on sweats and jogging shoes, she stuffed her cell phone and her room key into her pocket and eased out the door. It was another gorgeous, moonlit night. Maybe a stroll around the hotel grounds would clear her head.

  Most women would have been afraid to be alone, but not Rue. As owner of her own business, she’d seen and handled everything. Besides, the hotel was crawling with NASCAR fans and family. She’d be as safe as if she were in her own front yard.

  Still, she stayed within the perimeters of the parking lot lights. That light plus the moonlight assured that Rue wouldn’t step off into a pothole and break her neck.

  As she rounded the e
ast side of the hotel, she heard the haunting, visceral strains of a harmonica. A favored instrument of both blues and country/Western artists, a harmonica in the hands of a skilled musician could break your heart, then pick up the pieces, patch them back together and hand the renewed heart to you on a silver platter.

  Feeling as if every blood vessel she had was just beneath her skin, Rue stood still, listening. The song was “Moon River,” a ballad about love lost but never forgotten.

  Following the music, Rue rounded the corner of the hotel and saw a shadow underneath an outside stairwell. The shadow must have seen her, too, because the music faded into the night.

  “Don’t stop. It’s beautiful.”

  “Rue?”

  “Andrew? You’re a musician, too?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that. I like to fool around with my harmonica and guitar, that’s all.”

  For some foolish reason, Rue felt as if she’d been handed the award for being steadfast and good. She’d heard Patsy say that Andrew preferred hotels to a motor home at the track, but she’d never imagined an accidental encounter with him in the moonlight.

  “Do you mind if I listen? I adore the sound of a harmonica.”

  “I don’t play for just anybody.”

  “I’m not just anybody.”

  Silence. Rue could hear her own heartbeat, feel every inch of her skin, but she still saw Andrew as only a shadow.

  “No, Rue, you’re not.”

  As she walked toward him, cooled by the night air and heated by anticipation, Andrew moved from underneath the stairwell and put his harmonica to his lips. The deep mysteries of night transformed him to a man of moonlight, music and magic.

  Rue felt as if she’d landed in the middle of her own classic movie. With the faded strains of “Moon River” still echoing, she could be Audrey Hepburn about to discover love in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. A heady, delicious prospect. And a bit frightening.

  She sank onto the stairs, the concrete step cool underneath her sweats, her long legs stretched out in front of her.

  She glanced up at Andrew and smiled. He put his harmonica to his lips, cupped his hands around the small silver instrument to create perfect resonance and began to play. Throwing himself heart, soul and body into his harmonica, Andrew made love to her with music.