It certainly hadn’t worked out the last time they’d tried. They were older now but were they wiser?
Lexie wanted—and certainly deserved—more than a guy who spent every moment of his life figuring out how to get his car across the finish line first. He wasn’t sure if he was the man to give her that any more today than he had been twelve years ago. His offer of one night no doubt insulted her, not tempted her. He was thinking impulsively, selfishly, of his needs. Wasn’t tamping down his rash impulses what the anger management classes had all been about? Wasn’t that what his father preached continually? Think before you act. The great ones are conscious of their image at all times.
So why were his instincts screaming everything but restraint? Was passion a flaw or a strength?
When James returned a few moments later, Kane retreated to the back for a shower. The pulsing water felt good on his sore, tired body, but his mind was as cloudy as ever. He knew if Lexie so much as glanced at him in an interested way, he’d forget whatever he was doing, or toss out what he was “supposed to” do. He couldn’t let go of the idea that giving in to their attraction would solve personal things—one way or the other. But would he lose his potentially championship-winning car chief in the process? And was it a good long-term solution for anybody?
You weren’t ever thinking long-term anyway, right?
Right. Maybe that was the problem.
LEXIE LEANED next to her father under the hood of their race car for Saturday night. “I checked the spark plugs three times,” she said, annoyed that he appeared to be doing so again.
“Doesn’t hurt to check again.”
At her father’s calm response, Lexie stuffed her aggravation. She was tired and on edge. Everybody was tired and on edge. Except the unflappable Harry Mercer, of course. He’d been under the gun too long a time and too often to let a little thing like a NASCAR NEXTEL Championship get to him.
That was what the media said, anyway. Lexie knew better. She knew her father was worried and exhausted. He’d just learned how to hide it better than everybody else.
After making a delicious cholesterol cocktail of eggs, sausage, grits and hash browns, she, Kane and James had driven the motor coach home themselves on Sunday morning after winning Bristol. They’d sung goofy camp songs such as “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” then pulled the bus-chassis coach into the driveway at Kane’s house on Lake Norman and proceeded to drink a few beers themselves. Just like old times.
August had come to a close. They’d raced in California and finished third. Richmond—the last race available for making the top ten in championship points—was four days away. They hung in limbo in eleventh place, with the twelfth- and thirteenth-place drivers only twenty and twenty-five points, respectively, behind them.
Bob Hollister had made it very clear at the team meeting yesterday that he wanted the fifty-three car in The Chase. If it didn’t happen, he intended to make “some key staff changes.” It wasn’t just their ambitions or their pride on the line at Richmond. It was their jobs.
If that wasn’t enough—and it seemed to her that it was—she was also on edge for another, far more personal reason. She happened to be walking through the lobby that morning when a stunning, buxom blonde had asked the receptionist for Kane. Since that happened several times per week, she’d initially dismissed the incident.
Unfortunately, she’d walked by the conference room at lunchtime, where the same blonde and Kane had been cozily enjoying pasta and salad.
Lexie’s mood had gone south immediately afterward.
She should be happy. She and Kane had kept their distance over the past week and a half. They’d managed to work amicably. The Chase was within reach. Teamwork. Success. Peace.
He hadn’t mentioned them again. He hadn’t flirted with her, touched her or really looked at her. It was what she’d wanted and needed. It was what the team needed even more, though it was clear nobody but James had a clue how fortunate they all were.
Is he dating the blonde? Is he, even now, flirting with her, touching her?
The very idea made her blood boil hotter than brake fluid at Richmond. And how ridiculous was that?
“Something going on with you and Kane?” her father asked, jerking her from her thoughts.
“Going on?” she echoed stupidly.
Still tinkering under the hood, he said, “You act different.”
“I do?”
“You’ve been tense. Jumpy.”
Could she really fool her father? The man was more astute than Donald Trump in the middle of a real estate negotiation. “Nope. Not tense at all.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m ready for Richmond. I’m pumped and excited about The Chase.”
“You’re only tense when Kane is around.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t imagine why.”
Her father straightened. He glanced around the race shop full of crew members—who were, thankfully, busy elsewhere—before directing his sharp, hazel gaze at hers. “I saw you through puberty, Lexie. Plus the first round with that boy. Now’s not the time for round two.”
Realizing there was no point in pretense, she sighed. “It’s more complicated this time.”
“You bet it is. Before, you guys were kids, goofing around, having fun winning races. You, outsmarting the other crew chiefs. Him, outdriving the field. James, drumming up a thousands bucks from the local Dairy Queen to buy equipment for the next race.
“This is different. The fans document every race-day call on their Web sites. The media discusses Kane’s driving style, his mood and his image. Sonomic Oil gave Hollister Racing fifteen million dollars to sponsor this car. We can’t make a mistake. You heard Bob yesterday. We have to make the top ten.”
Her heart heavy, she nodded. “Yes, sir, I know.”
She’d known all this before, of course. But having her dad lay it out so plainly was a painful reminder that her life wasn’t just her own.
“Let’s go outside,” her father said, cupping his hand beneath her elbow, setting his wrench aside on the way.
They stopped on the octagonal-shaped wooden deck in back of the race shop where they sometimes had company picnics. Even though it was September, the air was still thick with summer humidity, the heat hanging on like a bad headache. She tried to envision the grass and the trees crystallized and frozen, as they would be when the season was over; when the championship trophy had been presented and the teams were anticipating the arrival of the holidays instead of another weekend on the road.
But she couldn’t see anything beyond Saturday night. Make-or-break time. The knot in her stomach tightened.
“I know the pressure I put on you,” her father said, leaning back against the deck railing. “I know how hard—how close to impossible—it is to have a personal life in this business. The pressure of winning and losing, the endless weeks on the road, the constant changes in rules, R&D advancements and team members all take their toll. Our jobs are all-consuming, and nobody outside our business can possibly relate.”
“You and Mom did it.”
“We were able to race as a family.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s lousy, you know. I can’t date a colleague, but nobody who isn’t a colleague will understand what I do.”
“How about a nice accountant?”
She laughed. “You’re reading my mind. Should I go for somebody at Hollister or one of the other teams?”
“Hollister, of course.” He angled his head, his eyes bright. “Can’t have you giving away all our secrets to the competition.”
She’d needed this so much, to talk through the opposing feelings boiling inside her. How do parents know? “There’s a problem with the accountant strategy, though.” She licked her lips. “I like Kane.”
Her father sighed. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.” He shifted his gaze upward. “Your mother was the light of my life until you came along, then it was bo
th of you. When she died part of that light dimmed. You’re all I have now. All I want. The racing will come and go, but I want you to be happy. Racing makes you happy. He, so far, hasn’t.”
Well, if that wasn’t it in a nutshell.
But Kane had made her happy. At times. In short bursts. Short, wonderful, exhilarating bursts.
Leaning next to her father, Lexie laid her hand over his. Her body warmed with his concern. Life hadn’t always been easy for them, but they’d always felt blessed. They’d succeeded in the career they’d chosen, even though the one person they’d both wanted to witness their rise hadn’t been there. Still, the racing had helped them focus and recover. A coping mechanism that had become a passion.
She couldn’t imagine losing the love of her life so suddenly. She’d often hoped her father might find someone else to give the love he held in his heart. But he hadn’t. Rose Mercer had been it for him. Now he had his daughter, his buddies and his racing. He couldn’t seem to move beyond that.
Maybe that was why she sometimes found herself longing to find her own love. She knew how precious time was, how life could change in an instant. She wanted someone to share her dreams and joys, to hold on to through good times and bad.
“Kane doesn’t treat you the way you should be treated,” her father said. “I was devoted completely to your mother.”
He brought me tea was all Lexie could think. Not much to most people, but she’d been immeasurably touched by the gesture.
Still, her father’s words were true. Wasn’t that the reason she’d broken up with him in the first place? She knew she wasn’t the one for him, and she was tired of pretending to be satisfied with second place.
“I know,” she said.
“You’re attracted to each other, but does it really go beyond that?”
“I’m not sure, but the attraction is pretty strong.”
“So I’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “What else do you have in common? He likes being in the public eye. You hate it. He’s a people pleaser, and you push people’s buttons.”
“He didn’t used to be a pleaser.”
“You’re not going to change him.”
“He’s lost his fire, and it’s going to cost him his job.”
“And you can get it back?”
“Maybe. Bob Hollister certainly thinks so.”
“I don’t think Bob had in mind what Kane has in mind for recapturing his passion.”
She glanced at her father out of the corner of her eye. They hadn’t talked about her love life since she was seventeen—the first time around with Kane. “This is a strange conversation to be having with you.”
“Who else are you going to talk to?”
Good point. The rest of the guys worked for her. And they were, well, guys. She had a few female friends, but they all thought Kane was dreamy and couldn’t look at him objectively.
“So what do you suggest?” she asked.
“Don’t repeat the mistakes of the past. And if you do decide to risk seeing him again, at least wait until the season is over.”
“I can’t put my life on hold during race season. We’re only off for two months a year.”
Her father snorted. “More like two weeks.”
“Unless we get fired for not making The Chase.”
“Then you could date Kane.”
“If he treated me right.”
“You deserve better from him.”
Yes, she did. But there were some things she knew deep in her heart that were never going to change. “Racing will always be first.”
“It has to be, when he’s in the car.”
“But isn’t it first for all of us, all the time?”
“It shouldn’t be.”
She knew they weren’t going to solve all these issues at the moment, but she felt surprisingly better. She hugged her father, realizing she’d be able to keep her focus the rest of the afternoon.
Even though it was only Tuesday, they had to have the car loaded that night. With a Saturday-night race, the schedule tightened even further. She still had to meet with the other engineers, and they had to double-check the templates, or else risk a possible violation from NASCAR officials when they arrived at the track for inspection. If they were off even a quarter of an inch in any one spot, they could blow everything.
“I’ll see you later,” she said, brushing her lips against his cheek. When she reached the door, she turned back. “You’re not jealous of Kane, are you, Dad?”
“Of course I am.”
Smiling, she walked back in the shop. At least she would always be one man’s favorite.
For the remainder of the day, she focused on getting the car ready to be loaded in the hauler. Everybody shifted into high gear because nobody wanted to still be working at ten o’clock. Most of the team members had spouses and families to get home to, families the traveling team wouldn’t see again until the early hours of Sunday morning. She was fortunate enough to have her family with her.
“You’re coming with me tonight,” a familiar voice said.
Crouched behind the car to measure the fender, Lexie groaned.
She glanced over at a pair of sky-high, hot-pink stilettos—one of which was tapping the garage floor impatiently. Her gaze slid up a pair of tanned, slender legs to a frilly short skirt, a form-fitting top, past a silky curtain of highlighted blond hair, then finally to the annoyed but lovely face of Hollister Racing’s office manager and reception-area guard dog.
Her powers of concentration must have really kicked into gear in the past few hours, because it was only now that she noticed everybody had stopped working.
She rose and grabbed Cheryl Tolfort’s arm, leading her across the garage, then down the hall to her office. As an afterthought, she went back to the garage and shouted, “Get back to work!”
Back in her office, she sent a mild glare Cheryl’s way. Not that she noticed. She was flitting around the office like a cute pink bee.
Cheryl was fast.
Not in the old-fashioned sense of being loose or morally corrupt; she just moved quickly. She talked fast. She thought fast. She moved fast.
“I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t come to the garage on loading day,” Lexie said.
Not abashed in the least, Cheryl waved her manicured hand. “This is an emergency.”
Lexie instantly thought of—what else—the car. “NASCAR called. We’re being fined for something.”
“No, no.”
Kane and James. She hadn’t seen them all afternoon. “Somebody’s hurt.”
“No.”
“Bob Hollister is firing everybody.”
“Of course not. Good grief, you really do need this.”
Realizing the emergency was anything but, Lexie moved to her desk, her mind already on the initial setup for qualifying. “Need what?”
“A night out with the girls.”
“What girls?”
“Well, just me actually. I think you should start out slowly. Let me see your hands.”
Before she could react, Cheryl had already snagged her hand and bent over it. She tsked. “Have you ever had a manicure?”
“I—”
“Is that really grease under your fingernails?”
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t see why—”
“Do you even own a dress?” Cheryl’s pitying gaze raked her body. “I’m not taking you anywhere in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes since I’m not going—”
“Oh, yes, you are. Your father suggested, and I agree. You need to have some fun, take your mind off racing for once.”
Lexie crossed her arms over her chest. “My father suggested?”
“Earlier today. Actually, I’ve wanted to take you out with me for a while, but I know how important this top-ten stuff is, so I’ve been holding back.”
Holding back? The woman didn’t know the meaning of the words.
“But since your father encouraged me, I�
�m ready to go. What time will all that junk be loaded?”
Despite her frustration at the ambush, Lexie nearly smiled. This was why Bob had hired her to run the front office. Stuff was the championship, worth more than five million dollars to the winning team. Junk was millions of dollars in cars, engines and vital equipment they needed to race in front of hundreds of thousands of fans.
Cheryl couldn’t care less. She was unflappable in the midst of chaos and unimpressed by the high profile of everyone she worked for. She also wasn’t googly-eyed with the drivers, other team owners or sponsors. She wasn’t fooled by cute women who had an appointment to see Kane or any of the other Hollister drivers.
Racing, frankly, was way down her list of priorities. Lexie had to send her an e-mail after each race to let her know what had happened, so she could direct media inquiries for the next week.
“We’re shooting for six,” she said in response to Cheryl’s question about loading, though she had no intention of leaving until much later. She only had an empty apartment to go home to, and she’d much rather work to keep her mind off Kane and his blond lunch companion or Richmond and its tire-shredding turns.
“Perfect,” Cheryl said. “I’ll make nail appointments for six-thirty. Tamera is almost always booked, but she’ll make time for us. Then we’ll—”
“I’m not getting my nails done. I’m working.”
“After our nails are done, we’ll move on to hair and makeup.” She pulled off Lexie’s cap and dusted her fingers over her hair. “Definitely a better cut, and highlights are a must.”
Lexie crammed her hat back on her head. “I’m not—”
“Then we’re going to dinner. Something light, I think. We don’t want to be too full and feel logy. Then it’s on to Neon.”
Lexie was so startled she forgot to argue about going at all. “Neon, as in the Charlotte nightclub, Neon?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’m not driving into Charlotte tonight.”
“Of course not, silly. I hired a limo.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Cheryl ignored her and rolled on. “Clothes are going to be an issue, though. I guess we could swing by your house.”
Full Throttle Page 8
