A NASCAR Holiday 2: Miracle SeasonSeason of DreamsTaking ControlThe Natural

by Pamela Britton

  Haldane laughed. “Danny’s lucky to have you on his side.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a small purple box wrapped with silver ribbon. “Here’s one of our doggy stocking fillers. Give it to Buster with my regards.”

  AT ONE O’CLOCK, the band stopped playing and people began to leave. Madison went with Danny to say goodbye to the Naylors.

  “Marj and I will expect you on Christmas Day, as usual,” Hugh said to Danny.

  Danny was supposed to have Christmas with his team owner? Madison looked at him. He didn’t meet her eyes, and she saw a flush creeping up his neck. “Actually,” he said, “I’m having Christmas with Madison. And Buster.”

  Hugh looked disappointed, but made an obvious effort to be pleased for Danny. Could Danny see how fond of him his team owner was, Madison wondered.

  “Maybe we’ll see you at New Year’s, if you don’t have plans,” Hugh said.

  “Sure.” Danny glanced at Madison. “Then right after that, I’ll be ready to put my all into my racing. I truly appreciate what you’ve done for me, Hugh. I’ll do my best not to let you down next year.”

  Hugh frowned. “You had a good season, Danny. No matter who you were, I wouldn’t keep you in my car if you didn’t earn it…. But you know, however your racing goes, uh, we’ll always, uh—” he cleared his throat “—there’ll always be, uh, you’ll, uh…”

  “You’ll always be part of the family,” Marj said, patting Danny’s cheek and rolling her eyes at her husband’s inarticulacy. “You know that, don’t you?” She pulled Danny into a hug.

  “Sure,” Danny said, just enough surprise in his voice for Madison to hear.

  “Enjoy your Christmas, kids.” Hugh kissed Madison’s cheek. He moved on to Danny, hesitated, then punched him awkwardly on the shoulder. His fist lingered there for a moment.

  Danny hesitated. Madison would bet money Danny wanted to hug the guy. Instead, Danny punched him back. “Happy Christmas to you, too, Hugh.”

  Marj Naylor’s blue gaze met Madison’s, and the older woman giggled, a surprisingly youthful sound. “What is it about these NASCAR guys that the only time they get emotional is on a race track? If you want a man who cares more about you than his car, my dear, you’d better look elsewhere.”

  It was a joke, yet her words struck a chill into Madison’s heart.

  The heart, she realized now, she’d bet on Danny’s ability to be the man she wanted. So much for telling him she didn’t want to fall in love without knowing he could feel the same. She’d already fallen in love with him—with his intelligence and sense of humor, with his unintentional kindness, with his sexiness, with that soul she saw deep inside him.

  Everything she’d seen of Danny—his kindness to Buster, his affection for the Naylors, his tenderness toward her—told her this man was crying out to love and be loved.

  But to Danny, none of that was more important than winning. If Marj was right, it never would be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DECEMBER 23 FOUND Danny shopping for a Christmas present. For Buster. He couldn’t believe he was doing this—he’d always thought people who bought gifts for their pets were pathetic.

  But he couldn’t concentrate on his fitness or his race tapes, or even on a conversation with his crew chief about car setup.

  Ironic that, having made it crystal clear to Madison that they had no future, he was more distracted than ever.

  He chose a ball with a rope tied around it for Buster—they’d have some good tugs-of-war. Now he had to find a gift for Madison. He would try Nordstrom—and he’d make it a combined Christmas and goodbye gift.

  Danny’s cell phone rang and he recognized the clinic’s number. Forced himself not to pounce on it. “Cruise.”

  “Danny.” Madison’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “Buster’s owner is here at the clinic.”

  “Huh?” It took Danny a second to click. He was Buster’s owner. Then he remembered what he’d promised. If the dog’s owner came back, he’d hand Buster over. He swallowed.

  “He wants Buster home,” Madison said, “for Christmas.”

  They agreed the guy should come to Danny’s house at two that afternoon to collect Buster. Madison said she’d come over right away, and Danny didn’t argue.

  They spent the next couple of hours playing with Buster. Danny packed up the dog’s stuff, in case the owner wanted it. He added Buster’s wrapped Christmas gift to the large pile.

  Then it was one-forty-five, everything was ready, and it was a matter of watching the clock tick over to two. Danny sprawled on the couch in the family room, Madison at his side.

  The ringing of his cell phone—a call from Hugh—was a welcome distraction. Danny had called Marj earlier to cancel a lunch he had scheduled with the Naylors today.

  “I hear the dog’s owner turned up,” Hugh said. “This could be just what we need.”

  “How’s that?” Danny asked.

  “Haldane from Poochy Packs has warmed up again on the sponsorship. Seems your Madison did a great job the other night of selling him on you as a dog owner and a driver.”

  “She did?” Danny caught Madison’s gaze, raised an eyebrow. She gave him a puzzled smile.

  “He’s about ready to bite.” Hugh laughed at his own wordplay. “One more push should do it, and that’s where your dog comes in.”

  When Danny didn’t say anything, Hugh continued, “You need to delay the handover of the dog so we can set up a photo shoot. It’ll make a great Christmas Eve headline—Sandra said with the shortage of news, we might make the front pages. I’m certain Poochy Packs will sign when they see the story.”

  It was brilliant. Danny could see the headlines now, could envisage the heartwarming Christmas photos, the outpouring of sympathy he’d get from NASCAR fans and dog lovers.

  “I guess,” Hugh said, and Danny heard the frown in his voice, “we’ll have to get you another dog.”

  Danny put his hand over the phone and said to Madison, “Sandra and Hugh think that if we can get a photo of me handing Buster over to his owner, the Christmas Eve headlines will swing the Poochy Packs sponsorship.”

  He waited for her to blow up, to tell him he was all kinds of jerk to consider using Buster like that again. Instead, she nodded, and said with quiet neutrality, “I see.”

  He knew what she saw. That he would do what he had to in order to secure the sponsorship funds to match his biggest rivals. The money that might make the difference in his NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series challenge.

  He tried to imagine handing Buster over to his owner in front of a bunch of journalists. He tried to imagine having any kind of relationship with Madison after he’d done that.

  “Hugh,” he said, “tell Sandra there’s not going to be a story. I—I love that dog.”

  Beside him, Madison made a choked sound.

  On the phone, there was a long silence before Hugh relayed the message. To Sandra’s credit, she didn’t argue. That was what Danny liked about her. She knew a good story, but she also knew how far was too far.

  “Sorry, Danny,” Hugh said gruffly. “I didn’t realize.”

  He hadn’t realized himself. Damn, it hurt.

  He ended the call, slumped back into the cushions. Madison took his hand in hers, and even though it was only comfort, he felt the inevitable spark between them.

  “I can’t believe you turned down that story.” Her voice came out shaky.

  “At least some kid will have a happy Christmas,” he said morosely.

  “I—uh, what?” She seemed to be struggling to focus.

  “Remember, the kid crying his eyes out because he’s lost his dog?”

  “Oh.” Then, hesitantly, “Danny, I’m not certain there’s a kid.”

  “Maybe the guy’s blind,” Danny suggested, “and Buster is his seeing-eye dog.”

  “A seeing-eye dog that ran out in front of cars wouldn’t last very long,” she pointed out gently.

  “Oh, yeah.” Danny let his mind wander to th
e implications of that and winced. Absently, he reached into the purple box on the coffee table and snagged a cookie. He bit into it. Hmm, not bad. Chocolaty, oaty, and something that might have been—He realized Madison had gone from tender concern to being convulsed with laughter.

  “What?” he demanded around his mouthful.

  “That’s—that’s—” she was laughing too hard to talk “—a Poochy Packs cookie.”

  The cookie assumed the texture of sawdust in his mouth. Danny sprayed it across the coffee table. “Ugh!”

  The ring of the doorbell startled both of them, suspended Madison’s hilarity. Buster, whatever else he was, had never been a guard dog. He lifted his head at the sound, then flopped back onto his paws.

  Danny went to open the door. The man on the other side was about Danny’s height, but fifty pounds heavier. Climbing the front steps had evidently exerted him, because there was a definite smell of sweat around him.

  “Marty Bennett.” He stuck out a hand. “I’ve come to pick up Monty.”

  Monty? “Oh, you mean Buster, uh, the dog.” Danny stood aside. “Come on in.”

  The guy looked around him with unashamed interest. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” Danny turned, saw Madison bringing Buster—Monty—on his leash. The dog gave a low woof and ran to his owner, jumped all over him. Marty Bennett threw his arms around his pet, laughing and crooning. Danny should have found the reunion touching. He found it irritating.

  “Madison, this is Marty, Buster’s owner,” Danny said, when he figured the party had gone on long enough.

  “Monty,” the guy corrected.

  “Hi, Monty.” Madison stuck out a hand.

  “No, I’m Marty, the dog is Monty. People often get us confused.” The guy laughed uproariously.

  Madison smiled politely. “So, how did you come to lose Bus—Monty?” she asked, with what Danny recognized and silently cheered as determination to check out whether or not the guy was a fit dog owner. Maybe they wouldn’t have to give Buster back.

  “I was on my way to the airport. I had Monty booked into the boarding kennels,” Marty said. “I stopped to take a leak, and he got out of the car. He saw a rabbit and took off.

  “I couldn’t find him, but I figured he’d make his way home—it was only a couple of miles—he’s done it before. I asked the kennels to call around to the house and get him. They came a few times but of course he wasn’t there. Because someone ran him over.” Marty directed a reproachful glance at Danny.

  “He wasn’t wearing a collar when Danny found him,” Madison said severely.

  “Yeah, he slips out of it sometimes.” The guy knuckled Monty’s head. “Don’cha, boy?” Buster licked the guy’s less-than-clean hand with evident enjoyment.

  Danny tried not to see it as a betrayal. But no matter how tacky it was to urinate at the side of the road, it didn’t make a guy unfit to own a dog. Danny was going to have to let Buster go.

  “I just about had a heart attack when I got back from Mexico and found Monty hadn’t been seen since I left,” Marty said. “I’ve been searching everywhere and in between times calling the shelters. Finally one of them mentioned the dog you’d found. I’ve never been so relieved—this big guy is my best friend in the world.”

  Danny could believe it.

  Marty refused any of Buster’s toys, saying he had “plenty of that crap around the place” at home.

  “Thanks a lot for looking after him,” he told Danny.

  “No problem.”

  When Marty looked down and said pointedly, “Guess I’d better take my dog home,” Danny realized he still had a hand on Buster’s collar. Reluctantly, he uncurled his fingers.

  He dropped down, took Buster’s ugly face in his hands. “Bye, Buster, it’s been great knowing you.” Buster licked his face. Danny gave Buster a hug, mainly to hide the rapid blinking of his eyes. “Bye, buddy.”

  Madison hugged Buster, too. Danny heard her murmur, “Goodbye, gorgeous,” into his coat. As Marty and the dog walked out to Marty’s Ford Fusion she held Danny’s hand. Probably to stop him making a fool of himself by running after them. He squeezed her fingers, felt an answering pressure.

  After the car disappeared down the drive, he turned to Madison. Damn, she was beautiful. And smart and caring and passionate. What if Madison walked out of his life, the way Buster just had? A vise clamped around Danny’s chest at the realization that losing her would be a thousand times worse than losing Buster.

  Dammit, he’d fallen in love with her.

  He only had to look at her, standing there in her cherry-red sweater, her long black skirt and her high-heeled boots, to know the way he felt about her was completely different from how he’d felt about any other woman. It always had been, only he’d been too blind, too stupid to recognize it.

  Danny realized he had two choices. Finish with Madison, then throw himself into his racing with two hundred percent focus so that this year he might win the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup title. Or for the first time in fifteen years, open up his life to share it with someone he loved. A woman who would expect him to give as well as take.

  Just as he’d given away the year’s best photo opportunity—and possibly, the best associate sponsorship he’d find this year.

  What if he decided she was worth it, and then he lost her anyway? It would just about kill him.

  “Hell,” he said.

  “Danny?” Madison laid a hand on his arm.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  He took a step backward. If he gave in to this love, what would it do to his racing? Other drivers managed to win races while they juggled relationships, but he’d never thought he could be one of them. Yet without Madison, there would always be something missing.

  “I just…remembered I need to do something.” He grabbed her car keys from the console by the front door. “You’d better leave.”

  “Maybe I should hang out here. You’re upset about Buster.”

  He was already halfway down the front steps. “I always knew I might have to give him back,” he said over his shoulder as he unlocked her car. “Come on, time to go.”

  He needed to think about his future without the distraction of having her right in front of him.

  She had no choice but to get into the car. “Are we still good for Christmas Day?” she asked in a small voice that told him his abruptness had hurt her.

  “Sure.” Even if he decided he couldn’t have her, he still wanted Christmas with her. “I’ll pick you up around ten.”

  He busied himself shutting her door, brushing a couple of leaves off her windshield, so that he didn’t kiss her goodbye, didn’t even look her in the eye.

  MADISON WANDERED the mall with growing frustration. She didn’t know for sure what had just happened back at Danny’s place, but she could guess.

  Danny had turned down the photo opportunity, risked losing the Poochy Packs sponsorship, and in his heart he blamed her for it.

  “It’s not good enough,” she said sharply, attracting a surprised glance from a shopper laden down with Christmas parcels.

  And it wasn’t good enough. Danny loved Buster; he’d turned that deal down for his own sake, not hers. And he might not know it, but he felt something for Madison. Maybe he wasn’t in love with her yet, but he had two more days to admit the possibility it might happen. What had Danny said? In this life you have to go after what you want and never stop.

  She wasn’t about to sit around hoping he’d realize what he’d lost. She couldn’t make him love her, but she could make darned sure he knew exactly how she felt about him.

  DANNY BUZZED Madison’s doorbell just before ten on Christmas Day, more nervous than he’d been at the start of the race at Homestead last month. There was much more riding on today.

  NASCAR was the last thing on his mind, thanks in part to yesterday’s news that Poochy Packs had confirmed it would sponsor Danny in the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series. Danny’s refusal to publicize the loss of Buster had impressed Bob Ha
ldane more than any amount of great driving.

  Madison opened the door. She looked soft, kissable in a wraparound red dress that showcased her delectable curves. She took one look at Danny and broke into laughter.

  “Do you have any idea,” he said in an injured tone, as he adjusted the Christmas stocking on his head to a more rakish angle, “how long it took me to find this thing?”

  “If I looked anywhere near as dumb that night you came to the clinic as you do now,” she said severely, “I’m not surprised you didn’t trust me.”

  “You’re going to eat those words when you see what I got you for Christmas,” he growled.

  She stood back and let him in. “I want to give you my gift first. It’s in the kitchen, wait right here.”

  “How do you manage to wear your stocking for hours?” he demanded. “My head’s already itchy as heck.”

  “Just naturally full of the Christmas spirit, I guess,” she called over her shoulder, halfway to the kitchen.

  “Just naturally full of something,” he grumbled, and heard her chuckle.

  She was gone just a few seconds. She came back cradling something in her arms…a puppy. With a dapper red bow around its neck.

  “For me?” Danny took a half step forward.

  She nodded, and he moved to take the animal from her. Even leaving aside that this little fellow only weighed about five pounds, he—a quick check confirmed it was indeed a he—looked nothing like Buster. This dog had shorter hair, black with a couple of brown patches on his head and one on his rump. He was as cute as all get-out.

  “What breed is he?” Danny asked, trying not to choke up.

  She shrugged. “I got him from the shelter yesterday. I’d say he’s part Lab, part Jack Russell, part something else. Nothing fancy.”

  “He’s great.” Danny tickled the dog under his chin, and the little head burrowed into his hand, the tongue coming out to give a dry lick. “So, you think I’m the kind of guy who’s fit to own a dog?”

  Madison looked him in the eye. “I think you’re perfect to own a dog.”

  For a long moment, their gazes locked. Then Madison blinked. “What are you going to call him?”