Almost Famous

by Gina Wilkins

  J.R., the tall, painfully thin Woodrow Racing employee who had picked them up at the airport and driven them here to the track, chuckled in response to Andrew’s question—which was one of about a thousand the boy had asked since arriving in North Carolina. “I imagine Scott’s either in the car or in the garage. He doesn’t hang around in the hauler much. Too restless.”

  Andrew sported a Scott Rivers T-shirt with his jeans and sneakers, but he’d donned a Jake Hinson cap, showing that his loyalty was now divided. Stacy didn’t own any clothing advertising her loyalty to Jake’s team, so she’d worn a dark purple, three-quarter-sleeve cotton shirt over dark, straight-leg jeans and comfortable walking shoes.

  Andrew had reluctantly approved her choice, as well as the similar outfit she’d brought to wear to the race the next day. He had insisted that she at least wear team colors. Even though he’d never been to a race, he’d seemed convinced that no one at the track dressed neutrally.

  “So, where’s Jake?” he asked, unable to completely hide his pride at that personal connection.

  “Let’s go find out,” J.R. said with a grin.

  Wearing their official passes on lanyards around their necks, Stacy and Andrew followed J.R. toward a purple-and-silver hauler parked not far from the black-and-red one Andrew had already spotted. The Vaughan Tools logo was prominently displayed on the side of the hauler, along with Durfee Oil and smaller sponsor ads. Jake’s name was written in bold script across the doors of the cab.

  “Whoa,” Andrew murmured as they approached the open back of the hauler, giving him a good look inside. “It’s so cool.”

  “Come on in,” J.R. encouraged them, an indulgent smile softening his craggy face. “This part’s the kitchen. You see all them cookies and candy jars? Jake’s got himself a sweet tooth on race days. Says the sugar fuels him.”

  Thinking of brownies and ice cream and peach cobbler shared when it had just been the two of them, Stacy swallowed hard.

  “This here’s the locker area,” J.R. continued, motioning as they continued toward the other end of the hauler. “And that’s where we keep the tools. The backup car’s on the top level, and all the way back here is the lounge and office area.”

  Stacy caught just a glimpse of leather couches and wood desks and multimedia equipment—before Jake stepped forward and she couldn’t see anything but him. He wore his uniform, the deep purple color setting off his tan to near perfection. He looked dashing and handsome, straight off the cover of a racing magazine. She noted peripherally that other people were in the area, but her eyes was locked so tightly with Jake’s that she couldn’t yet get any details, including how many others were there.

  Smiling broadly, he reached out to catch her hand in his. “Stacy,” he said, her name sounding somehow different when he said it. “It’s good to see you again. How was your trip?”

  She moistened her lips and gave herself a rousing mental slap. “It was lovely, thank you. I’ve never been on a private jet before. Very luxurious.”

  He dragged his gaze from hers with what seemed to be an effort. “Hi, Andrew. How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Jake,” the boy replied, still trying to be cool. “This is great. Uh, thanks for inviting me.”

  Stacy had instructed him repeatedly to express his gratitude as soon as he saw their host. She was glad he had remembered.

  “You’re welcome.” Still holding Stacy’s hand, he turned slightly away from her. “I’d like you both to meet my crew chief and his fiancée. Stacy and Andrew Carter, meet Lisa Woodrow and Wade McClellan.”

  Andrew’s awe slipped through a bit when he stared at Wade. “‘Ice’ McClellan,” he said. “Oh, man.”

  A nice-looking man with dark hair and narrowed dark eyes, Wade chuckled. “Just call me Wade.”

  His beautiful blond fiancée was studying Stacy with barely veiled curiosity. “So you’re Stacy. Jake has told us all about you.”

  Wondering what he had said, Stacy flicked him a glance, then smiled at the other woman. “It’s nice to meet you. Your name is Woodrow—you’re related to the team owner?”

  “Lisa is Woody’s daughter,” Jake explained. “She’s a prosecuting attorney who has recently taken a new position in Charlotte.”

  “So were you two talking about race strategies?” Andrew asked Jake eagerly, acknowledging Lisa with only a glance.

  “Actually, we were discussing dinner plans for tonight,” Jake replied somewhat apologetically. “What would you prefer? Italian or barbecue?”

  Andrew waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever. So, how’s it looking for tomorrow night?”

  “Well, I qualified third. Not so bad for my first race back in eight weeks.”

  Andrew nodded, showing he’d already known the lineup. “And Scott qualified seventh. He’s come from farther behind than that to win.”

  Jake gave Stacy a wry smile, acknowledging that he was aware that Andrew would be not so secretly cheering for his teammate. He didn’t seem to mind too badly, she noted in relief. Realizing only then that he was still holding her hand at their sides, she discreetly extricated herself and stepped closer to her nephew.

  “Andrew would be pleased if either you or Scott wins,” she assured Jake.

  He chuckled. “Don’t try to be the diplomat. I know who he’s going to be supporting tomorrow night.”

  “It really would be cool if you win, too,” Andrew said, his expression slightly anxious. Perhaps it had just occurred to him who had actually brought him here, Stacy thought in exasperation.

  “I don’t think the race can end in a tie,” Jake replied with a laugh.

  “And sorry, son, but even though the kid’s our teammate, we’re going to try to make sure he comes in no higher than second place,” Wade added in a drawl.

  “Who you calling a kid?” asked a new voice from the doorway.

  Stacy looked around to see a slender, fresh-faced newcomer in a striking black-and-red uniform. Leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, the sandy-haired young man couldn’t have been much more than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, Stacy estimated. His blue eyes glinted with mischief, and she didn’t need to read his sponsor on his chest to know that this was the “crazy” driver Andrew idolized. Andrew’s expression alone was enough to confirm her identification.

  “Scott Rivers,” Andrew whispered.

  Scott stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “I heard there was someone in here I’d like to meet. That must be you.”

  “Really?” Andrew grinned. “I’m Andrew. Andrew Carter.”

  “Great to meet you, Andy. You’re a fan, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m your biggest fan. Well, you and Jake,” Andrew added with a quick look at his bemused host.

  Jake and Scott laughed, Lisa smiled, Wade snorted and Stacy shook her head in resignation. At least no one seemed offended, she decided.

  “So, you want a tour? I’ve got some free time.”

  “For real?” Andrew turned to Stacy, looking down at her from the three-inch advantage he had in height. He was a bit short for his age, a sensitive subject for him, but he came by it naturally since Nick, at five feet eight, was the tallest member of the Carter family. He probably liked the fact that Scott was not much taller than Andrew was himself. “Aunt Stacy? Is it okay if I go with Scott?”

  Stacy looked at Jake. He grinned and nodded. “He’ll be fine with Scott. Right, Rivers?” he added with a pointed look at his young teammate.

  “Sure, he will,” Scott promised with an exaggeratedly innocent expression. And then on his way out, he made sure everyone heard him ask Andrew, “So, have you ever ridden on top of a moving race car, kid?”

  “He’s kidding,” Jake assured Stacy.

  “I know. I just hope Andrew won’t get in the way out there.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Scott’s shown teenagers around before. Sponsors’ kids, mostly. He knows how to handle them. Heck, it wasn’t that long since he was one.”

  “Y
ou arranged this, didn’t you?”

  Chuckling, Jake nodded. “I figured they’d both get a kick out of it. Scott cleared about an hour for Andrew, and that’s about how long I’ve got to show you around, if you’re interested. After that, Wade and I will be pretty well tied up until dinner, but Lisa offered to entertain you and Andrew.”

  “I hope we won’t be keeping you from anything,” Stacy fretted, remembering that Lisa had a high-powered career of her own. “Andrew and I will be fine on our own if you have other things to do. He’d be perfectly content to just sit in the stands and watch practice.”

  “He’d probably rather watch from the top of the hauler. Or the pit box,” Lisa said with a smile. “And don’t worry about keeping me from anything. I’ve got the day off. Since Wade’s going to be focusing on practice for the rest of the afternoon and completely ignoring me, I’d enjoy the company.”

  “I’d argue with that, if it wasn’t entirely true,” Wade murmured laconically. “But if it makes you feel any better, you aren’t easy to ignore.”

  “Coming from you, that’s quite a concession,” she answered him fondly, patting his arm.

  Stacy watched the exchange with bemusement, thinking that it must take a great deal of self-confidence for a woman to so cheerfully accept second place on race weekends.

  LISA AND WADE STAYED behind in the hauler when Jake escorted Stacy out for her tour. Jake kept a hand at the small of her back, ostensibly because of the frantic activity going on around the haulers and garage area. She could feel the heat of his palm through her shirt, and it lit an answering warmth deep inside her.

  “You look good in purple,” he murmured, staying close enough that she could hear him over the noise of the garages and the crowds.

  She smiled up at him. “Thanks. Andrew grudgingly approved my choice, though he thought I should go to a NASCAR store and buy a Jake Hinson T-shirt. I have to admit the idea of wearing your face on my clothing seemed a little strange to me.”

  He laughed. “There are so many suggestive responses to that statement that I think I’ll just let them all pass by.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Probably just as well.”

  He walked quickly, towing her along in his wake, pointing out features of the track as they passed them. Though she looked obligingly in the directions he indicated, she was all too aware of the attention they received themselves. People literally pointed at Jake as they recognized him, and she received looks of curiosity and envy just for being by his side.

  Exchanging nods, smiles and waves with practiced ease, Jake kept walking, informing her quietly that if they stopped moving they would be swarmed by autograph seekers. As it was, he signed a few while he was on the move, accepting various items thrust out to him along with markers, scrawling his name and returning the items without ever slowing down.

  She noted that his limp was almost entirely gone now, and she wondered if he was having to concentrate at all on walking naturally. She could imagine that he would hate showing any sign of weakness in front of the fans who saw him as a larger-than-life hero.

  They left the spectators behind when they entered a restricted area for racing personnel motor homes. The elaborate coaches were lined up tightly, forming a relatively private haven for the drivers and their families. Stacy saw children milling around the area, running and playing under close supervision, and she imagined that the drivers’ kids got to know each other pretty well, living on the road together so many weekends out of every year.

  It was a strange life, she mused. Hard to imagine for someone like her, who lived so quietly and anonymously, her daily routines rarely varying.

  Jake guided her to a large, chocolate-brown-and-cream motor home with several hydraulic extensions jutting out from the sides to increase its size. “This is my home away from home,” he said, pressing keys on a security pad beside the door. “I don’t usually bring it to this track, but I arranged to have it here for you and Andrew.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  He showed her how to work the security pad, then escorted her inside. Stacy caught her breath when she walked in. “Oh, my.”

  The motor home was impressive, to say the least, making her little apartment back in Little Rock look absolutely stark in comparison. Chocolate and cream formed the basic color scheme with accents in mint and cherry and chrome, making her feel as though they were standing inside a luxurious soda fountain.

  The fabrics were rich and inviting, soft leather and deep plush and lots of inviting pillows. Glossy woods and shiny glass reflected the recessed lighting and the glow of a crystal chandelier.

  The entire coach appeared to be controlled by remote electronics. Several flat-screen TVs were placed so that they could be seen from nearly every angle, and tiny inset speakers gave evidence of state-of-the-art surround sound. From where she stood she could see the living and dining areas, which flowed into what looked like a well-appointed galley and back to a closed door that presumably led into a bedroom.

  “Jake, this is…” She couldn’t even think of a word to describe the coach. “Amazing” was the one she finally settled upon.

  He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “This is my home for thirty-six weekends out of the year. It’s where I escape from the chaos and mentally prepare myself for the races. I figure it should be a nice place to walk into.”

  “Andrew’s going to flip out when he sees this.”

  Jake nodded toward the deep leather couch. “He can sleep there. It’s really comfortable. I can’t count the number of naps I’ve taken on it. And Wade spent a few nights there when he and Lisa were courting and she stayed in his motor home for a couple of races.”

  Courting. The old-fashioned word intrigued her, but she pushed it aside to consider later while Jake showed her how to work everything in the motor home that she and Andrew would need during their stay.

  She wished for a moment that Andrew was there with them. He was the electronics wizard in the family, and he would probably learn the workings of this complicated equipment much more quickly than she could. And then Jake opened the bedroom door, and something in his expression made her rather relieved that Andrew was safely occupied elsewhere with his racing hero.

  Jake cleared his throat before saying, “This is where you’ll sleep.”

  Standing at a safe distance from him, she quickly surveyed the almost decadently inviting-looking room with its huge bed covered in designer linens, built-in appointments, another flat-panel television and a fashionably-styled ceiling fan.

  “It’s nice,” she said, aware of how inadequate the adjective was when it came to describing this area.

  “Yeah. It’s comfortable.”

  Another understatement, she thought, glancing at the big, deep bed. She tried not to imagine him in it, tried even harder not to picture anyone else there with him, but she wasn’t entirely successful at either attempt.

  She spotted her bag sitting next to Andrew’s in one corner of the bedroom, and was amazed again at how efficiently Jake had arranged their visit. He’d seen to every detail, apparently—or perhaps had one of his “people” do so.

  She turned toward Jake with a bright and, she hoped, unrevealing smile. “I’m sure Andrew and I will be very comfortable here this weekend. Are you sure we aren’t putting you out?”

  “No. As I said, my house is close enough to commute, and I can hang out in the hauler while I’m here at the track. I’d like to take you out to the house sometime while you’re here, maybe Sunday morning, just so you can see where I live during the few days a week that I’m home.”

  “I’d love to see it.” But she wasn’t sure she really was that eager. If his motor home was this elegant, what must his real home look like? And how much more evidence did she need that they were about as mismatched as a pair could be?

  Suddenly aware that they were standing basically in his bedroom—at least, one of his bedrooms—she moved toward the door. “You were going to show me how to work the
—”

  He reached out to catch her arm when she would have passed by him. “Stacy.”

  His voice sounded a bit deeper than usual, giving her name that special tone that only he used. She bit her lower lip as she looked at him.

  He touched her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. So many times during the past two weeks apart from him, she had remembered the habit he’d had of touching her face, the caresses as intimate as a kiss, as unique as Jake himself. She’d awoken more than once with her cheek burning as if he’d touched her in her sleep, and she knew she had dreamed of him.

  “It’s so good to have you here,” he murmured, his tone husky. Seductive. “I’ve missed you.”

  Remembering the barely controlled pandemonium outside this haven, the crowds of people that surrounded him all the time, she wondered how he could have even noticed her absence. It was different for her. She spent so much time alone with her computer that it was only natural that she had been too keenly aware of how quiet her life was without Jake in it.

  “I’ve…missed you, too,” she replied, allowing herself that one, completely candid moment.

  “Since no one is around to see…” he murmured, lowering his head to hers.

  She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, falling into the kiss with a sigh of surrender. No matter how much she had pretended to him, and to herself, she couldn’t think of Jake as just a friend. Not when he had only to touch her to make her forget every reason why that was all they should remain.

  Her arms locked around his neck as he deepened the kiss, dragging her so tightly into his arms that she could hardly breathe, and didn’t care. What would she want with oxygen when she had Jake instead?

  After a very long time, he broke the kiss with a slight groan, dragging in air as if he, too, begrudged the necessity. And then he kissed her again, his hand tangling in her hair, his body hard and hungry against hers.

  This wasn’t the lighthearted teasing they’d done before. No tentative flirting this time. He was making it clear that he wanted her, and she reacted to that desire with a flood of sensation that almost overwhelmed her.