“Silly,” a cute little blonde girl said. “You own a toy store.”
Or two, or three, or four-hundred, CJ silently added.
The original little boy who’d spoken—he couldn’t be any more than six or seven—bounced up and down on his toes. “And you told Mr. Jeffries you’d bring us some,” he said with a grin. His two front teeth were missing.
CJ scooted closer.
“But I’m at a race,” Bryce teased. “Why would I bring my toys here?”
This time a brown-haired girl stepped forward, one with frizzy hair and eyes nearly the same color as Bryce’s. “Because you knew we were coming,” she said, her face utterly serious.
The parent of the children smiled—or was it a parent? The more CJ studied the older woman, the more she recognized the lady might not be related to the kids surrounding her. She wore a dark business suit, CJ thinking the poor lady would be boiling in a couple of hours.
“You’re right,” Bryce said, his smile encompassing the group. “I did know.”
By now the crowd had thickened. As one of the celebrities this was part of the deal. While there were undoubtedly some serious off-road race fans milling about, most of the spectators had come out to see people like Bryce—famous people.
Bryce must have noticed the growing crowd too. He motioned the children’s escort forward with a hand. “Come on,” he said. “I might have something stashed away.”
“Hooray,” the boy cried as the crowd fell back.
CJ found herself following. At a distance, of course, but following nonetheless, her suitcase nearly clipping her heels. She sensed a story here somewhere. Too bad her camera had been packed away. She didn’t relish the thought of opening her suitcase in front of everyone. With her luck all her underwear would spill out. But it sure would be nice to get a picture of Bryce with all the kids.
He led them to the transporter, a big rig that they used to haul the race cars around in, and that looked more like a rolling office than a mobile garage—at least judging by the pictures she’d seen amidst DRIVE Magazine’s pages.
“Come on,” she heard him say, pausing beneath an overhang. CJ hung back, her hand resting on the handle of her rolling overnight bag. She’d had to bring the darn thing along with her since she’d turned in her rental car this morning. Hopefully someone wouldn’t mind bringing it to the next rest stop…and her, too. Otherwise she’d have to rent another car out in the middle of nowhere.
The pack of kids disappeared inside, the older woman turning to shut the sliding glass doors behind her.
And that was that.
But her curiosity had been aroused. She shoved off again, nearly clocking someone in the leg. “Sorry,” she said. She stopped when she reached the side of the truck that she’d be riding in.
Riding in.
Her stomach curdled.
“What’s going on?” she asked a mechanic who stood by the race truck, hoping to distract herself.
“What do you mean?” the burly man asked, his black shirt sporting the red star synonymous with their sponsor, Star Oil.
“All those kids following Mr. Danvers around.”
“Oh, that,” the man said, the wrench he held catching the sun and temporarily blinding CJ. “They’re local foster kids.”
“What are they doing here?” she asked.
The man shrugged. He had really wide shoulders, CJ wondering how he managed to cram himself inside the engine compartment when the need arose. “Don’t know, but I heard talk that he’s famous for doing stuff like this. Seems the man really likes kids.”
Did he now, CJ mused, spotting her story’s angle.
“By the way,” he said, CJ noticing then that his name was Gus, at least if the stitching on his shirt pocket was to be believed. “We adjusted the seat belts for you. If you get in and they’re too tight, just let us know. We can make them bigger.”
And CJ’s stomach flipped all over again. “Oh, ah, thanks.”
“No problem,” the man said with a wide smile. “Never had a woman ride in Betsy before.” He tapped the side of the truck with his hand.
Betsy? The truck had a name?
“Had to change out the seat too.”
“You can do that?” she asked.
“Yup. Bryce had one custom made for him. Cuts down on your bouncing around.”
That was good to know, especially if she ended up peeing her pants.
You’re not going to pee your pants.
No, but she might vomit. Especially if her stomach didn’t settle down. She’d taken some Dramamine earlier, but she suspected it wasn’t going to help.
“Here we go.”
CJ turned toward the transporter in time to see Bryce step out, his smile as wide as the double door he stepped between.
“Who wants to be the first person to sit inside?”
The little boy from earlier raised his hand. “Me, me!”
Blond, blue-eyed, and entirely too adorable, CJ wished she could bottle his enthusiasm. She was tempted to ask if he wanted to take her place today, then thought better of it. Bryce was approaching and she needed to project confidence and determination. “Good morning, Mr. Danvers,” she said brightly when he noticed her standing there.
“CJ.” His gaze rested on her suitcase. She saw his lips twitch. “You made it.”
“I did.” She could feel her lips tremble when she smiled. “I was hoping you could stash my suitcase someplace.”
He looked down at the brown bag again. “Sure,” he said, nodding at Gus who came forward and took the thing from her.
“Thanks,” she said.
Where in the world did he get those blue eyes? His mom? Dad? When she’d done her research she’d heard no mention of his parents. In hindsight that seemed a little odd. Given his success it seemed she’d have run into some mention of them. “Of course.” She mustered a smile for his tiny little posse, all of whom stared up at her in curiosity. “And who have we here?”
“These are some new friends,” Bryce said. “Daniel, Marybeth, Samson, Patti and Laurie.” He pointed them all out.
How he’d managed to remember all their names was anybody’s guess, but CJ was impressed nonetheless. “Hey, guys.” Her eyes caught on one of the little girls who held a new stuffed toy. They all held something in their hands: a new Lego set for one, another stuffed animal for the other little girl, a Barbie for one of the girls and a toy truck that bore a striking resemblance to the vehicle next to her.
“CJ here is going to ride along with me.” Bryce said the words with a wide smile.
“You are?” the little boy who held the truck cried out. His name was Daniel. “You’re soooo lucky.”
“Am I?” Suddenly CJ’s mouth was dry. Nerves, she told herself. She was not reacting to Bryce’s presence.
“I would kill to ride in one of these things,” the little boy added.
Not me. But she didn’t say that.
“Come one,” Bryce said. “You might not be able to ride in one, but you can sure sit inside.”
CJ stepped back. Gus asked if anyone wanted to stand in the bed of the truck. One of the girls lifted a hand and CJ found herself tempted to dig through her underwear and find her camera. But her disappointment quickly faded away as she watched Bryce interact with his little guests. Gone was the playboy from yesterday, in his place stood a man who brought a soft smile to her face. Who made her think there was another side of him. A side that the public rarely saw. No wonder he owned a chain of children’s toy stores. He clearly loved kids.
“Who wants a picture of themselves driving the truck?” Bryce called out.
Picture? CJ glanced around. The woman who’d accompanied the kids stepped forward, camera in hand. Ooo. Perfect. She’d ask her for copies later.
“I do,” Daniel said.
The little brunette bumped into CJ’s leg, the little girl glancing up at her in concern. “It’s okay.” CJ squatted down next to her.
“I don’t want to get inside,�
�� the child admitted, her brown eyes wide. She had to be younger than Daniel by at least two years. Five she guessed.
“I don’t either,” CJ admitted, her gaze flitting over the truck. It was huge, various stickers and decals plastered across its white surface. She’d need a step ladder to get inside. The tires alone were almost as tall as the little girl standing next to her.
“You don’t?” the girl asked.
CJ shook her head. “Nope. But I have to.”
“Why?” the girl asked, pulling her Barbie box closer.
“Because I work for an evil ogre.”
“You do?”
“I do. One who’s mad at me for something I did and so he placed a curse on me. I have to ride in this truck for an hour. If I don’t, he’ll banish me from his kingdom.”
“Oh,” was all Marybeth said.
CJ found herself smiling, a pair of legs catching her attention. Bryce.
“And evil ogre,” he said.
She slowly stood. “Yup,” she said with a lift of her chin. “That’s my boss.”
“Then why don’t you let him banish you from his kingdom?”
He’d heard that? “It’s not that simple,” she found herself saying.
He looked so sincerely concerned for her welfare that CJ found herself thinking Pink Pumps had good taste.
Whoa, Ceej. You need to get a handle on those types of thoughts. Trouble, remember.
“Hmm,” he mused. “Then I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” He turned to the group in question. “They’re about to push the truck to the start/finish line.”
Which meant it was time to take off.
“Aww, man,” Daniel moaned.
“But we’ll see you after,” Bryce said brightly.
If she made it out alive.
He must have caught the look on her face because he patted her shoulder. “Hey. Don’t panic. I promise to keep you safe.”
“Yeah,” she croaked. “Famous last words.”
She looked terrified, Bryce observed less than a half-hour later. In fact, CJ looked about as comfortable as a patient in a dentist chair. He clutched his hands around the rubber coated steering wheel of the truck and darted another glance at the woman sitting alongside him. Yup. Green as the desert cacti dotting the landscape. And she just about flew out of her seat when Harry’s voice boomed over the sound of the truck’s revving motor, “Five minutes, Bryce. Have CJ put her helmet on.”
Bryce peered through the black net which covered both driver and passenger windows and raised his hand to let Harry know he’d heard him. He glanced at CJ.
She’d drawn her shoulder-length brown hair into a ponytail, her profile clearly revealed. She had a cute nose. Kinda snub with little freckles dotting the tip. Pixie. He’d never used the word to describe a woman, but it fit CJ to a T. Like one of those women in a soap commercials. All clean and tidy. Smelled like it too. Mmm. Borax handscrub.
“Put your helmet on,” he said when she didn’t move.
She jerked around, then suddenly crammed her white helmet over her ponytail and head. Gone was the confident woman who’d spoken so softly to Marybeth. In her place sat a woman who was clearly on edge. He smiled reassuringly, but she didn’t notice.
The truck in front of them scattered a plume of dust as it took off. Bryce watched as the cloud dissipated, revealing a green and yellow truck racing off into the desert. People dotted either side of the starting line, their heads cocked to follow the departing vehicles. Dust filled his mouth. He hoped to God when it was his turn to take off he didn’t hit anybody. That would be a nightmare. For a moment or two he thought about asking Harry to tell the kids from Harmony Haven to back away.
Ridiculous, he told himself. He could do this. Piece of cake. And thankfully, once he cleared the staging area there’d be less chance to maim someone other than himself or his passenger. Speaking of whom…
He glanced at CJ again. Little spitfire appeared ready to throw herself out of the truck window. Either that, or have a nervous breakdown. Her green eyes were as wide as the R.P.M. dial. Her left hand fidgeted with the numerous belts strapping her in. She kept glancing at the Port-O-Potty off to her right, as if she contemplated making a run for it. He didn’t blame her. Heck, he gave the woman credit for getting this far.
Harry had bet him last night she wouldn’t show up. Harry had been wrong.
Not only had she shown up early enough that she’d been able to meet the kids from Harmony Haven, but she’d been toting a brown Samsonite suitcase like he was shuttling her to a desert spa. He supposed it a sign of her optimism that she thought she’d last the hour. He had to admire the woman for that. Actually, there were a lot of things about her that intrigued him. She’d looked so cute kneeling down beside Marybeth.
Odd, that. He hadn’t taken note of a woman since he’d caught his ex-fiancée in bed with someone else—a female someone else. He frowned, not wanting to think about it. He’d rather think about CJ Randall.
She’d taken him by surprise from the first moment he’d seen her blush. He hadn’t even known women could do that anymore. But she had, turning an impossible shade of red which made her cute little freckles stand out…and then later, she’d looked ready to vomit when Harry had done his best to discourage her from riding along, and still she’d stood her ground. This morning she’d been at ease around the kids he’d invited to the staging area. He liked women who didn’t mind spending time with children.
“Two minutes, Bryce.”
Harry’s voice crackled through the ear-pieces. Bryce wished he’d stop yelling. He was scaring the woman with his pre-shuttle countdown. She’d started to pant, and since the two helmets were connected on an open mic, her breaths echoed around them like Darth Vader’s. Thank God Harry couldn’t hear them unless Bryce pressed the mic button on his steering wheel. If he had any idea of how terrified his passenger was, he’d have pulled her from riding along.
She continued to fidget, only now her right hand joined the action, plucking at the white and blue lightweight firesuit she wore. She’d hyperventilate if he didn’t do something soon.
“It’ll be all right,” he said softly, reaching out a hand to pat her leg.
She jumped.
He patted some more.
“Sixty seconds, Bryce.”
The look she turned on him was one he’d associate with a dog just before it was put to sleep.
“I’m terrified,” she admitted.
Bryce reached out and stroked her thigh again, surprised at the little jolt of energy that shivered through his hand. Probably the static in the desert air. He certainly wasn’t attracted to her. Oh, she was cute in a tomboyish sort of way. Definitely not his type, he reiterated. But tomboy or not, she needed to settle down before he had to call the paramedics.
“We’ll be okay. If the truck tips over the most that will happen is we hang upside down for a few minutes.”
Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say.
“Oh, Gawd!” She started fumbling with her racing harness.
“Ten seconds, Bryce.”
“What are you doing?”
“Nine.”
“I’m getting out.”
“Eight.”
“No you aren’t. Just think how disappointed Marybeth will be.”
“Seven.”
“She’ll learn to live with her disappointment.”
“Six.”
“Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
“Five.”
“Enjoy? Hah! Darn it, how do you get this seatbelt off?”
“Four.”
“Hold on, CJ. We’ll be on our away in a sec.”
“Three.”
“I don’t want to be on our way, I want out.”
“Two.”
“There’s no time.”
“One.”
“Too late.”
“Oh, Gawd,” CJ screamed again a heartbeat later. The starter waved his green flag. The idling motor roared to lif
e. The lurch of the vehicle slung her back.
“Hold on,” Bryce twanged in his Southern drawl.
Hold on? What was there to hold on to? The interior of the truck was bare sheet metal with three inch poles intersecting at odd angles—like some kind of sick jungle gym. Besides, she couldn’t move if her life depended on it. The Gs were too strong.
And then she saw why Bryce’d told her to hold on.
The road disappeared.
“Hoooooly,” she screeched just before they dropped off the edge of the planet. They were in the air forever. The 4x4 landed with a helmet-jarring thunk and the world went black. It took her a moment to determine it was the helmet. She pushed it back up, then immediately wished she hadn’t. The world started to whiz by at a dizzying speed. Faster and faster they flew, desert scrub and rocks sliding past them.
“It’s pretty smooth from here on out.”
CJ clutched the seat. Why did she get the feeling Bryce’s idea of smooth and hers were two different things? The truck bounced over the countryside like a boat skipping a wake; CJ’s insides churned. She was going to have bruises tomorrow. Lots of them. It’s only for an hour, CJ. You can handle it.
“If you want to look at the map it might help take your mind off it.”
Mind? What mind? She’d lost hers the moment Bryce had hefted her into this one-ton nightmare. Lord, she could still feel where his hands had clasped her waist when he’d lifted her onto the sill of the truck.
Settle down, CJ. You’ll be okay. Bryce knows what he’s doing.
But he didn’t look super confident. He stared straight ahead, his brow furrowed in concentration as he navigated the barely there dirt road before him. He must have sensed her stare for he flashed her a look. Even in that brief glance she saw the concern in his sky-blue eyes, so much of it that CJ’s toes curled into a ball.
“I get car sick.”
Playboy Prankster Page 2
