A NASCAR Holiday 2: Miracle SeasonSeason of DreamsTaking ControlThe Natural

by Pamela Britton

  “Loser.”

  He jerked in his seat. “Indi, wait. No,” Mike said when she stood up. “I’m not saying I’m not going to call her. Or see her again. I’m just saying that maybe a little time away from each other is good.”

  “That’s all you’ve had is time away from each other.”

  “I know that. And maybe that’s a good thing. We can both stop before things get too serious.”

  Indi sank down again. “Stop? Why the hell would you stop?”

  Mike looked away for a moment. “You know better than anyone that this job is hell on family life.”

  “Maggie’s the sort of person who’d give it her all.”

  “She has a daughter.”

  “Is that was this is about?” Indi asked, leaning toward him. “The fact that Maggie has a kid? Because if it is, you’re not the person I thought you were.”

  A waiter came up to them and tried to hand Indi a menu. She waved the menu off, the look she gave the man clearly conveying she wanted privacy.

  “This had nothing to do with Brooke,” Mike said.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Indi asked.

  “The problem is now’s not a good time to be jumping into a relationship.”

  “Mike,” Indi said, placing her elbows on the table, “there’s never a good time to enter into a relationship.”

  “That’s not the way I see it.”

  “And that’s probably why you’re still single after so long. You’re waiting for the perfect moment. But here’s a news flash, Mike—a woman as good and as wonderful and as loving as Maggie Taylor comes around once in a lifetime. I thought you saw that. I was thrilled that at last someone recognized her worth. Obviously, I was wrong. But what I want you to consider while you both cool off—” she made quotes with her hands “—is if are you willing to risk that you’ll never find someone else half as good as Maggie, should you decide to walk away.”

  “I haven’t decided to walk away.”

  “Think about it,” Indi said, standing up. “And while you think about it, enjoy your career. Just remember it’s lonely at the top. But you know that, don’t you? It’s why you got involved with Maggie in the first place. All that fame and glory bought you a lonely life and a lot of lonely years. Congratulations. Looks like you’re headed that way again.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE NEVER CALLED.

  Maggie didn’t know what upset her more. That Mike appeared to have chosen his driving career over her, or that she continued to feel the sting of his rejection.

  Damn it, she thought, trying to smooth back a stray curl.

  “Mom,” Brooke said from behind her. “You look great.”

  It’d been two weeks since she’d seen Mike. Tonight was the Christmas Miracle fund-raiser party. But Maggie dreaded it with all her heart.

  At least Mike won’t be around.

  She’d heard from Indi that he’d quit working for the foundation. He’d chosen driving over charity work. What a disappointment.

  “Go on, Mom,” Brooke said, her legs crossed as she sat on the bed. “You’re going to be late.”

  They were in a hotel room donated for Miracles’ staff to use. Maggie wouldn’t need to worry about Brooke getting into trouble. She’d been given strict instructions to stay in the room and watch movies all night. But just to be certain that Brooke was safe, Maggie would be checking in throughout the evening.

  “I’m going, I’m going,” Maggie said, walking forward so she could give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “Remember, I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”

  “I know.”

  Maggie drew back and grabbed a gold clutch that matched her gold ballgown, which was on loan from one of the local department stores. The dress had a long, wispy skirt that hugged her ankles and seemed to float behind her, and a tight bodice that actually made Maggie look as if she had cleavage.

  “If you get hungry, you can order room service,” Maggie said to her daughter.

  “Mo-om. I know.”

  “And if the hotel fire alarm goes off, remember not to use the elevator.”

  “Mom!”

  “All right. All right. I’m leaving.”

  “Mom,” Brooke said, suddenly serious. She darted up from the bed. “Have a good time.”

  “I will,” Maggie promised, even though she knew she more than likely wouldn’t. Now that the event was actually taking place, there wasn’t a whole lot for her to do. She’d spend the night on a pair of heels that felt two sizes too small, in a gown that might make her look buxom, but that nearly cut off her circulation, all the while trying to make small talk with people she didn’t know.

  Fun.

  She slipped out the door. Brooke would be fine on her own. According to her daughter she was long past the age of needing a babysitter. Still, Maggie worried that maybe she should have hired one.

  You’re just procrastinating.

  And she was. She didn’t want to go down to the event. Attending a Christmas party made her feel too depressed.

  And lonely.

  Her relationship with Mike was obviously over and Maggie ached over the whole thing. Yes, she’d been the one to walk out on him, but a part of her had assumed he really would call her. Why she’d thought that after he’d ignored her for weeks she had no idea. Still, it stung. Only after he wasn’t in her life anymore had she come to realize how much she cared for him.

  Obviously, he hadn’t felt the same way.

  The lights in the hotel lobby still twinkled merrily, but Maggie hardly noticed. Giant poinsettia plants decorated every surface. A massive tree dominated the main foyer, its lights reflecting on the polished marble floor.

  Maggie handed the ballroom doorman the special pass she’d been given earlier. On the other side of the door she could hear the band. They were playing something festive. It sounded like “Frosty the Snowman.”

  “Enjoy yourself,” the man said, opening the door with a flourish.

  Maggie had been in and out of the ballroom at least a hundred times the previous day. Setting the place up had been a major undertaking, and yet nothing had prepared her for the beauty and splendor of the room beyond.

  Gold and silver swathes of fabric hung from the walls. Stage lights had been aimed directly at them, illuminating the metallic cloth and setting it aglow. Silver bells hung around the room. Real silver bells. They were worth a fortune, but thankfully had been lent to them for the night. From the crystal chandeliers hung yards and yards of ribbons, and more twinkling lights. And, of course, in the center of the room stood the tree. Placed all around the room were elegantly set tables, two-foot ivy topiaries inlaid with tiny red poinsettias and more silver and gold ribbons sprouting up from the center. Even the plateware was gold, silver chargers set beneath.

  “Doesn’t it look great?” Indi said.

  Maggie turned, gasping at the stunning picture her friend made in her silver gown. “You’re the one who looks great.”

  “Never mind me,” Indi said with a dismissive wave. “Isn’t this amazing?”

  Maggie nodded, starting to move toward the Christmas tree. She could smell its pine scent from across the room. “Makes all our hard work seem worthwhile.”

  “We’ve raised nearly a million dollars for Miracles already,” Indi said proudly, scooping two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. She made a half turn, the gown she wore clinging to every curve, her hair swept up atop her head. “And the silent auction over there—” she pointed to one side of the room with her chin “—is still going strong. I bet we’ll hit two million by the time the night’s over. That’s money we’ll use to fulfill the wishes of dozens of children.”

  And such a worthy cause.

  Not that Mike would ever know. Damn it. She still couldn’t believe he’d given up working for Helping Hands.

  “He’s here, you know,” Indi said.

  “Who’s here?”

  Her friend handed her the glass of champagne. “Mike.�
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  Maggie’s almost dropped the glass. “What?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you, Maggie. He made me promise not to, but he’s here and I thought you should know in case, I don’t know, you want to leave or something.”

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “Well, he did help plan the event.”

  “Yeah, but I thought he’d be off testing race cars, or hiring people for his new race team or meeting with potential sponsors or something.”

  “He gave me a check for a hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Well, good. I hope it makes his conscience feel better.”

  “No,” a masculine voice said. “It doesn’t.”

  Maggie jerked. Indi turned right. “Mike,” Indi said coldly. “We were just talking about you.”

  “So I gathered,” Mike said.

  Maggie felt his gaze upon her.

  “Didn’t you say you needed to use the powder room?” Indi asked her friend.

  Maggie recognized the escape route Indi provided, but there was no sense in running. This might be a crowded affair, but she was bound to run into Mike sooner or later.

  “No. Not right now,” Maggie said.

  Indi seemed to understand. “I’ll talk to you later, then.”

  “So, Mike,” Maggie said once Indi faded away. She steeled herself to look at him. “How’s the driving career?”

  He looked tired, she noticed. And anxious. Not the least little bit happy.

  Good.

  “I’m okay,” he said, his eyes staring intently into her own.

  “Great,” she said. “Good to hear.” I’m still feeling like crap. “Enjoy the party.” She tried to turn away.

  “Maggie,” he called, stepping in front of her.

  They were attracting a crowd, although she reasoned that might have something to do with who Mike was. He might not have driven a race car in well over a year, but he was still recognizable.

  “Don’t go,” he quietly said. “Please.”

  “I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “But I have things to say to you,” he said.

  “Then say it quickly, Mike, because I’m short on time.”

  She saw him take a deep breath. “Look, I deserve your censure. I know I do. I’ve been a jerk. I didn’t call. I didn’t try and see you. I didn’t do anything. I was wrong, but I have an excuse.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I fell in love.”

  She nearly dropped the glass again.

  “I know it sounds crazy,” he said. “But something happened when we were together. Something unexpected and amazing. It threw me for a loop.”

  Maggie had to look away. Music played in the background, around them people chatted, but for Maggie this all felt like a dream.

  “I know it sounds hard to believe,” he said. “I didn’t believe it myself until something happened to help me realize it.”

  “What was that?” she managed to croak out.

  “I have the world at my feet,” he said. “Everything a man could ask for—fame, fortune, a great career—but it all means nothing, absolutely nothing without you by my side.”

  Maggie shook her head. “I don’t think I can do this again.”

  “Please,” he said softly. “Maggie, I need you. I realize that now.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re my grounding rod. I look into your eyes and I see that the world is good. When I’m with you I know I’m with someone real. Someone special.”

  She shook her head again.

  “Maggie,” he said, taking her glass from her and setting it down on a nearby table. He held her hand. It was the same hand that’d held her own all those weeks ago, and as his fingers enveloped her own, she felt the same falling-from-earth sensation.

  “You’ve spent years creating miracles for other people,” he said. “It’s time to believe in a miracle of your own.”

  “I thought I’d found one.”

  “Only I threw it away.”

  She nodded, pulled her hand away.

  He stared at her, and she could see the disappointment in his eyes.

  She had to blink back sudden tears.

  “I’m not a man who begs, Maggie, but I’m begging you now. Give me a second chance. I’ll never blow it again.”

  He held out his hand. Maggie stared at it, knowing that if she took it she was taking the biggest risk of her life.

  Or finding the greatest love of her life.

  “Please,” he said.

  “I’m scared.”

  “I know,” he said. “I am, too. I can drive a car at one hundred eighty miles an hour, but I’m scared to death to lose you.”

  She closed her eyes.

  “Maggie,” he said softly, scooting next to her, touching her. “I know it happened fast, but this is real.”

  It was that touch more than anything that made her give in. She still felt it, whatever it was. After all these weeks, after all the heartache and tears, she still felt something, and that something was strong and undeniable. She’d be stupid to throw that away.

  She felt his arms wrap around her for the first time in weeks, and it felt just as good as the first time…just as right.

  “I promise you, Maggie, this isn’t a mistake.”

  “You say that,” she said, wiping at her eyes, “but I hope you’re not offended when I ask you to prove it.”

  “I’m not offended at all,” he said, pulling her into his arms again. “And I will prove it.”

  ONE YEAR LATER, on Christmas Eve, he did prove it…by marrying Maggie in a ceremony every bit as opulent as the party they’d helped to plan. It was, Maggie tearfully confessed to Indi, a minor miracle that it had all worked out.

  But that wasn’t the only miraculous occurrence.

  Eleven months later Maggie gave birth to a baby boy. And as Mike held his newborn son in his arms, he wondered why he’d waited so long to have a child. But then he met the loving gaze of his wife, his newly adopted daughter, Brooke, sitting on the hospital bed next to Maggie, and the answer was simple. He hadn’t had kids before because he’d been waiting to find the right woman.

  He’d been waiting to find Maggie.

  SEASON OF DREAMS

  Gina Wilkins

  For my friends Bill and Terry Allen

  and their beautiful daughter, Kristin,

  all NASCAR fans. Merry Christmas with love.

  CHAPTER ONE

  TOM WYATT WAS NOT in the mood to celebrate Christmas. Or anything else, for that matter.

  The former NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series Champion had just completed his third lousy season in a row, having failed to make the most recent Chase for the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup for the first time since he’d moved up to NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series racing six years ago. Hoping to at least end up among the top of those eliminated from the Chase, he had, instead, been hit with a string of bad luck that had resulted in two DNFs—Did Not Finish—to conclude the season.

  He’d finished seventeenth in points for the year, his worst finish ever, giving fuel to the numerous detractors who liked to refer to him as a thirty-two-year-old flash in the pan who’d somehow lucked into a championship only three years after moving up to the top echelons of stock car racing. Just because he had little patience for dumb questions from reporters, and even less tolerance for boneheaded moves on the track that took out other drivers who were trying to race clean, he’d gotten the reputation of being a racing “bad boy.” And there was nothing the media loved more than building someone up only to tear him down when they decided his head had gotten too big for his helmet.

  He would rather eat a big bowl of bugs than sit through another taped segment in which some powdered and polished interviewer asked him how he felt about his recent three seasons. How the heck did they think he felt? He was angry, disappointed, frustrated, embarrassed. But he’d spent the past few weeks doing those interviews, dashing from one public appearance to another, filming silly TV ads, signing autographs u
ntil his hands cramped, shaking hands until his fingers went numb. Smiling until his teeth ached. All to improve his public “image.” Anything to keep the owner, the sponsors and the fans happy.

  As for himself—well, happy wasn’t a word he would have used to describe his mood lately. And his girlfriend of almost two years wasn’t making things any better.

  “Would you make a decision already?” he all but snapped at her. “I can’t stand on this stepladder all day.”

  Seemingly unfazed by his curtness, Melissa Hampton tilted her head to study the big, fragrant wreath he held in his hands. “Move it just an inch more to the left,” she decided finally. “And turn it so the bow is just left of center at the top.”

  Grumbling, he moved the wreath he was holding against the red bricks above his massive fireplace. “There?”

  “Perfect. Hang it right there.”

  “You’re sure this time? Because I’m not moving it again.”

  “I’m sure. And stop being so grouchy.”

  “If you’d wanted me in a good mood, you’d have listened when I said I wanted no part of this ridiculous contest.” Pushing a metal clip over a brick, he hung the wreath on it, then climbed down off the ladder without lingering to admire the results. “How much more stuff have you got? My house already looks like a tag sale at the North Pole.”

  She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind one ear and turned toward a box she hadn’t even opened yet. “Just a little more.”

  Sighing heavily, he dropped onto his big leather couch, then shot back up again to move the plastic reindeer that had just jabbed him painfully in the rear. At least it hadn’t torn the couch, he noted in relief, tossing the decoration onto the floor.

  “Careful. You almost broke it.”

  “Yeah, well, it almost broke my—”

  “Boy, you are on a tear, aren’t you? Well, get it all out of your system. Twenty-four hours from now, when we greet your guests—on camera, I might add—I want you grinning like Saint Nick, himself.”

  There were a few drawbacks to being involved with the always-organized and highly ambitious vice president of marketing for his primary sponsor. Even stickier when said vice president was also the daughter of the president of the company. He’d known when he started seeing Melissa that they were taking a risk on a professional basis, but he’d let his reservations be overruled by the attraction that had existed between them from the beginning.