“And don’t even think about trying to get out of it.”
Thankfully the pilot announced their approach to the airport before she could respond. Everyone who’d been distracted or asleep focused on getting their seat belts on and gear stowed before landing.
In the confusion of getting off the plane and transferred to the hotel—or the motor coach parked at the track in Kane’s case—Lexie made sure she was in a separate car from him. And, with him ensconced at the track, she didn’t have to deal with him being just a room or two away and popping in to talk about—or worse, pursue—this ill-timed chemistry between them.
She couldn’t, however, stifle the urge to fuss with her hair and actually put on makeup instead of just swiping on a single coat of mascara later that night. However, the elegant, pale-green cocktail dress she’d ordered online—after James had declared her usual black pantsuit unacceptable—didn’t fit just right. It bagged at the shoulders but was too tight in the waist.
Gazing in the mirror, she decided what seemed elegant on her computer screen looked like a mother-of-the-bride reject in person.
Plus, her makeup was too pale, giving her skin a sallow appearance. Her eyeliner was already smudged under her eyes. The lipstick felt gummy—it was probably old.
The new shoes she’d bought presented even more problems. First, she had to wind the straps around her ankle in some complicated twist that took her five tries to get right—those engineering classes clearly had no purpose in the real world of being a girl—then she had to hold out her arms to get her balance as she stood on the four-inch heels.
Not the kind of woman Kane was used to seeing on his arm, but would her future accounting, engineering or managerial husband be pleased? She hoped so, because she wasn’t dressing up for Kane. Nope. No way. She was scouting for a man. A Sonomic Oil man. Even if he did work for a NASCAR-sponsored company, he had to do something besides obsess about engines, shocks, tire wear and lap times. He had to be somebody besides the man who’d broken her teenage heart.
When someone knocked on the door, she wobbled down the hall to answer. “I can’t walk,” she declared to James as she held on to the door frame to keep from falling over.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as he brushed his lips across her cheek. “Every man in the room will volunteer to carry you.”
Feeling awkward, her face grew hot. Why couldn’t she have fallen for James all those years ago? He and Kane were both charming and handsome, smart and fun. But, somehow, she and James had connected on a NASCAR fan level, and no chemistry beyond friendship had ever developed.
Her eyes—and her heart—had been all for Kane.
All the more reason to avoid him.
It took some skill and deception during the party, but she managed it—no easy feat in those impractical shoes. Not that she wasn’t aware of every move he made, every person he talked to, every big-busted blonde who drooled over him. She’d counted every pinstripe on his navy suit before the cocktail hour was even over.
But tracking him was just habit. Right?
He looks fantastic. You so rarely get to see him dressed up.
She waved aside that opinion. Her only concern with Kane should be getting a fire lit under him, so they could get in the top ten.
She smiled outrageously at every accountant, manager and normal, upstanding type offered by Sonomic Oil. But, to be truthful, the pickings were slim. Most wanted to talk about Kane or her father, nobody was impressed with her ill-fitting green dress, others had had too much to drink and the rest had wives or girlfriends.
During dinner, she and Kane were mercifully kept apart. And the one moment when their gazes met, he smiled briefly at her, then turned his attention to the stunning redhead seated next to him.
Good. If he was occupied elsewhere, she could relax.
And that’s what you want?
“Oh, shut up.”
“Pardon me?” the chief financial officer of Sonomic Oil asked in a surprised tone.
Flushing at the idea that she’d spoken aloud to her conscience, she tried to put convincing interest in her tone. “I just meant ‘you can’t be serious.’ You can’t possibly have the capability to do a breakdown of the productivity of every employee every minute of the day?”
CFO-guy smiled. “Oh, yes, I do.”
Okay. So maybe engines, shocks, tire wear and lap times weren’t such horrible topics after all.
She moved through several circles of discussions, none more interesting or boring than the one before. She spent some moments gazing through the window at the brightly lit track so far below them. Thousands of fans would camp out on the grounds for the weekend. Motor homes and tents dotted every available square inch that wasn’t already dedicated to track or grandstands. The infield was packed with team haulers.
She longed to escape to her hotel room, to rest and reflect on the upcoming weekend. Though the schedule was brutal at times, it kept her focused. It reminded her of success, not dreams unfulfilled. The extraneous stuff outside of racing was where she got lost. She didn’t understand her place, or the rules, or where she might slide between the two.
“You look like you could use this.”
She looked up at the dark-haired, dark-eyed, attractive man next to her and accepted a glass of champagne. “Oh, ah…thanks.”
“You must be tired of all the schmoozing,” he said, then flashed her a bright smile.
She sipped champagne and wondered when she could legitimately escape. “It’s part of my job.”
“I suppose it is these days. NASCAR’s growth is phenomenal.”
“Isn’t it?” She never knew what to say at these things. In the garage, among the sheet metal, engines and aerodynamic studies she was at home. Her feet felt firmly planted on the ground. Teetering on stilettos at a swanky cocktail party, however, she was completely out of her element.
Was the guy next to her resentful of their growth, was he on the “new NASCAR” bandwagon or was he somewhere in between?
“I had no idea,” her companion added. “I grew up in New York. Now, I’m up to my ears in NASCAR licensing.”
“And you like it?”
“Surprisingly, yes. I was expecting…” He shook his head. “Well, I’m not sure what. But aside from an accent or two, the guys and I are very much alike.”
“And the women?”
He angled his head. “You’re in the minority there, at least in the garage. But it certainly seems to be working. Bob Hollister tells me the team is on a roll.”
“Bristol is one of Kane’s strongest tracks.”
“So I’ve heard.” He flashed his smile again. “But I’ve also heard you’re the strength behind the scenes.”
Lexie finally realized this attractive man was flirting with her. Had it really been so long that she had a hard time recognizing such a phenomenon?
Yes, frankly, it has.
“I don’t believe I got your name.”
“Victor Sono,” Joel, the team engineer, said as he approached, his hand outstretched. “His father owns Sonomic Oil.”
Lexie vaguely recalled a son who lived up north, and she might have learned more about Victor if Joel’s appearance hadn’t been followed by Pete, then Alex. Pretty soon, she was surrounded by men. Not so uncommon given her job. Tonight, though, these guys were looking at her. Not at her printouts or calculator or laptop screen, but her.
It was completely weird.
And undoubtedly the result of shock at their realizing she had legs, since her goofy dress couldn’t be impressing anybody. She’d always been too much of a tomboy to have most guys take notice of her as a female. That was probably why Kane had knocked her so completely out with his interest.
She had to admit, though, that she was suddenly aware of her body, the swell of her breasts peeking above her dress’s neckline, the curve of her waist. Feminine power wasn’t a concept she’d ever embraced. She’d relied on her brain. But instead of scoffing at hair tossing and eyelash flu
ttering, she was actually considering doing such things.
Though doing it in front of her team was troubling. She needed them to move along. Victor Sono was a perfect man to spend time with. Handsome, intelligent, connected to racing, but not consumed by it. She wished they were in the shop, and she could send her guys off on some work-related mission.
Instead, front-tire-changer Pete was—if she wasn’t mistaken—checking out her legs.
It was mortifying. Not to mention unprofessional.
When his gaze reached hers, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Can I help you with something?”
“You bet you—” He seemed to suddenly realize who he was ogling. “Oh, ah…no…boss. I’m, ah…good.”
“I’m thrilled to hear it.”
“You look really, ah…good.” His face red, he nudged Alex. “Doesn’t she?”
Alex’s gaze drifted slowly over her body. “Mmm. Oh, yeah.”
“Is it possible to have this be more flattering and less disturbing?” Lexie asked.
Pete shook his head. “I’m not sure, boss. I really didn’t know you had legs.”
“Not legs like that, anyway,” Alex added.
“Personally,” Victor broke in, “I don’t know how you guys concentrate on your jobs with a car chief who looks like Lexie.”
“They manage pretty well,” Kane said, toasting the group with his beer bottle. “With me and her father around.”
On a swiftly indrawn breath, Lexie literally took a step back. Kane’s intensity overwhelmed her at times. His presence and his ability to command a room reminded her why he was good at not just the driving aspect of his job, but also the star-quality side.
A gift from his father, he’d probably say. A gift all his own, Lexie would counter.
His blue eyes burned briefly in her direction before his gaze swept the assembled group. “Right, guys?”
“Ah, yeah,” Alex said, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else. “Lexie is—” he glanced at her, then stared at the floor “—the best.”
Everybody seemed to remember another urgent appointment about then. Within seconds, Lexie was left between Kane and Victor. The two men stared across her at each other, and while she’d sometimes had girlish daydreams about being fought over by two men—neither of whom could possibly resist her irresistible charms—the reality of being the center of a male stare-down made her hands sweat.
She sipped her champagne and tried to pretend she wasn’t completely out of her element. “So…I assume we all know one another?”
Still glaring at each other, the men nodded. The silence lengthened.
“So, Victor,” she began, “we were discussing the team. I think—”
Kane grabbed her hand and pulled her away.
Lexie dug in her—albeit shaky—heels. “Let go. Are you crazy? We were talking to him.”
Kane continued to tug her along beside him. “You were talking. I wasn’t.”
Take-charge men were so sexy. Though her feminine heart fluttered, her practical side worried about offending their sponsor. What was Kane thinking? What was he doing?
She jerked her arm from his grasp when they reached the hallway outside the suite. “You’re completely over the edge.”
“You drove me there.”
“Me? You’re the driver in this deal.”
He paced beside her. “Not tonight.”
Sensing his mood was hovering somewhere between fury and craziness, Lexie fought to calm her racing heart. “Was it necessary to make a scene right in front of Victor Sono?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see why.”
He said nothing.
“You’re just going to wind up having to apologize. And we all know how much you love to do that.”
“I’m not apologizing.”
Lexie’s eyes widened. She wanted fire and determination. She wanted him to act more like himself and less like his father. But dragging her out of a party and insulting a sponsor was going too far.
“Why don’t I walk you back to your motor coach?” she asked quietly and slowly. “You can get comfortable and relax.”
“No.”
“Do you want to go back to the party?”
“Hell, no.”
“What the devil is wrong with you?”
He stopped pacing suddenly and leaned back against the wall. He closed his eyes. “What’s happening to me?”
More concerned than angry now, she leaned next to him. “That’s my question.”
“I’m sorry about the baby thing earlier, when we were talking on the plane. I’m sorry for pulling you away from Victor. I will apologize.”
“It’s okay.” She paused and drew a deep breath. “It’s this thing between us, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“It’s just the stress of racing,” she said in an effort to convince herself as much as him. “Once we make The Chase, everything will go back to normal.”
“What’s normal for us?”
“Friends. Colleagues.”
He lifted his head and stared down at her. “Is that all you’ve felt for me over the past six months?”
“It’s all I can feel.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I asked.”
Warmth spread through her, followed quickly by guilt. This wasn’t good. They needed their professionalism back, not more fuel for the flames of their attraction.
“So maybe we have some residual chemistry. It’ll pass.”
“When?”
“Eventually.”
He slid his arms around her waist. “What if we get it out of our system?”
Her heart rate renewed its wild gallop. “How are we supposed to do that?”
“One night. You and me together. We’ll get past this attraction, then we’ll be okay again.”
Oh, wow. Oh, no.
She braced her hands against his arms, trying to maintain some distance between them. “Won’t work.”
“How do you know?”
She was already struggling with distance from their past, and the last time they touched intimately was many years ago. As if it was just yesterday…
She shuddered at the very idea. “I just do. Besides, the risk is too great that it’ll just make everything worse.”
“Yeah, I guess it could.”
“And when is this big event supposed to happen? We have a race to run in two days.”
“Now’s good for me.”
Double oh, wow.
She wasn’t tempted. She couldn’t possibly be considering his rash, not-a-chance-in-hell-of-working plan. She stared up into his glittering blue eyes and knew she was fighting for her own piece of mind as well as team cohesiveness.
“Our romantic relationship is over.”
His eyes flashed with old resentment, an anger she wasn’t aware he still felt. “Not willing to give it another go? You walked away pretty easily before.”
And it had nearly killed her. “No, I didn’t, and you’d left me long before that.”
“Just because I needed to focus on my racing didn’t mean I didn’t care about you.”
“I needed more.”
He sighed. “I’m lousy at relationships.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I wasn’t suggesting we have a relationship.”
She smiled weakly. “I suppose not.” She patted his chest and stepped back. All of a sudden she felt overwhelmingly sad. “I’m heading back to the party.”
He snagged her hand. “You could give us another chance.”
His eyes actually pleaded with her. She was so startled she couldn’t speak.
The only time she’d seen him even remotely affected as he was now was after he and his father had had a particularly disappointing argument over his football career.
“Just consider it,” he added, laying his finger over her lips. “You don’t have to answer now.”
A patient Kane?
“I told you those anger m
anagement classes were a good thing.”
A patient, amiable Kane on the track made her crazy, but what might those qualities do for him as a man? As his car chief, she couldn’t encourage him to be anything less than singularly focused. And on racing, not romance.
“You hated those classes,” she said in an effort to inject some levity into the moment.
“At the time.” He shrugged. “But it worked.”
“You need an edge to be a race car driver.”
“I’m not a driver all the time.”
If so, he was the first.
Music from the sky box floated toward them, and Kane pulled her close. “Ah, right on cue.”
As he shuffled his feet to the beat of the music, Lexie moved reluctantly with him. Proximity to him in anything but a professional sense wasn’t good for her peace of mind.
Still, she absorbed his heat and strength as conflicting feelings zoomed around her like bees. She wanted him, but couldn’t have him. She liked that he’d developed a softer side, but his lack of intensity was affecting his driving, and the championship they all so desperately wanted. Pitting her personal needs against her professional ones was troubling and frustrating.
How would she resolve the two sides of herself? Was she really willing to risk one for the other?
She tried to push aside all that and focus on the moment. She let the music lull her, drift through the air and distract her mind. Even in her badly fitted dress, she felt pretty and feminine. It was such a contrast from her usual jeans and grease-splattered T-shirt. Many hopes, dreams and—frankly—fantasies involved Kane holding her as he was now. Focused totally on her. Touching her with cherished reverence. As if she was the center of his world.
Breathing in his familiar scent, she reminded herself their closeness would evaporate tomorrow. Or maybe even sooner. Their team was just yards away. They had an important race to concentrate on and couldn’t dwell on their personal feelings. They couldn’t afford to be soft.
But, oh, how she wanted to.
She indulgently, briefly, pretended they were ordinary people. They went to work each morning at eight, then clocked out at six, well, maybe seven. Everybody worked overtime these days, after all. She’d pack him a bag lunch, with a turkey on wheat sandwich, sour cream and onion potato chips and a vitamin water. He’d whine to his buddies about how she tried to make him eat better. She’d smile when he called her to razz her about it.
Full Throttle Page 5
