My brother and I make our way down to the main conference room at his office in Indianapolis. Patrick called a meeting to give the team the news of his departure at the end of the season and introduce them to the new owner—me.
I’m sure it will surprise them, but KJ may be fucking pissed over my deception. I didn’t tell her the truth of who I was that night because, well, I’m a jerk. I’ve wanted to kiss KJ ever since the first time I watched her race. Her tenacity on the track is a turn on.
I just hope she doesn’t dress me down in front of her teammates. Or Patrick. He’ll kill me for the little stunt I pulled. But back then, I didn’t give a shit about the consequences because kissing Kathy Jo Lennon was better than I could’ve imagined.
KJ
“Do you find this a little strange?” I ask Franco, my teammate.
“Yeah. Patrick has been acting a little weird the last few weeks. Why call a meeting here? We’ll be in Richmond in a few days. I don’t know why we couldn’t have whatever this discussion is about then. It has thrown my weekly rituals off.”
I know what he means when Franco says “rituals” he means women. I laugh to myself. “Come on. I’m sure you can wait one more day before you see your latest track bunny.”
“Eh, you’re right.”
I tap my fingers on the table as we wait a few more minutes before the door to the conference room opens.
“Good morning. Thanks for coming,” Patrick says as he enters. I can’t get a read on his face. I shift in my seat as someone else follows him into the room.
When my brain makes the connection as to who I’m looking at, an audible gasp escapes me. Franco’s eyes turn to me. I can see him out of the corner of my eye.
“KJ, Franco, I want to introduce you to my brother, Declan.”
Brother? Oh crap. Why didn’t I make the connection before? And why would he lead me to believe he was a businessman who happened to be a race fan? So many questions are swirling in my head.
Patrick clears his throat, but my eyes stay transfixed on the man whose hands and mouth were all over me just days ago. “I know I’ve briefly mentioned him a time or two because he’s more on the business end than the day-to-day activities, but that’s about to change.”
Sweet mother of god, I mutter to myself.
“You both know it’s been challenging for me to be here when my girlfriend travels all over the world. Yeah, I know I travel as well, but at this point in my life, I want to be in the same city, hell, the same country as her.”
Oh shit. Please no.
“This may come as a shock because it certainly did to my brother. But after this season, I will sell my shares of O’Donohue Racing. So, Franco, KJ, please meet your new boss.”
KJ
Nine months later . . .
My dream startles me awake. It is the same dream that’s haunted me for the last three months—Zander Donavan winning the final race of the year. I could’ve had him, but I made a mistake in the last turn, and he passed me, earning the checkered flag. I guess if none of my teammates could win at Laguna Seca, I’m glad my only other friend on the circuit did. He deserved it for the way he raced all year.
It was a hell of a season, both on and off the track for us both. It was my first season without my dad. And Zander found the love of his life, Getty, after some personal crap happened. I’m happy for the way he came back because racing wasn’t the same without him.
I rub my eyes and glance at the clock. Just the slightest movement reminded me of my evening last night. I deserve the pounding headache that’s had me awake off and on since six o’clock this morning. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson when I was last here in California not to imbibe so close to the start of the racing season. But that was a year ago, and so much has changed since then.
There’s a knock at my hotel room door. “Just leave it in the hall,” I yell to the room service person. At least I was smart enough to order coffee before I passed out last night.
My body aches from whatever the hell I did last night. Oh yeah, I danced with some golden god. He was a surfer from what I can remember, which is very little.
Swinging my long legs out of bed, I try to settle both my head and my stomach before standing. It takes a minute to get my bearings, but once I do, I’m greeted by the warmth of the California sun and the mellow taste of my first cup of coffee.
I have two more days here before I need to get home to Tampa. No meetings are scheduled for today, being its Sunday, only lunch with Zander and Getty. But tomorrow, my day is jam-packed. I have a photoshoot that will last a few hours and then a lunch meeting with my team’s new owner, Declan O’Donohue. I haven’t had a chance to ask him just what he was thinking when he pulled me into the pool house at that fundraiser. He knew who I was and never once told me who he was other than his name. Of course, I was pissed, but right now, I’d rather forget it ever happened. Just the thought of seeing him again has me on edge.
Don’t judge me. How was I to know he was our team owner’s brother when I made out with him at a charity event? Okay, judge me if you must, but I never planned on seeing him again, let alone become his employee.
Thankfully, someone came out to the pool house, interrupting our little, or I would’ve had sex with the man who holds my future in his hands.
I’ve been amped up over the offseason since Patrick made the “hey, my brother, Declan, is taking over the team so I can get married” announcement. I think I need some retail therapy. Perhaps after my meetings tomorrow, I can do a little shopping to get my mind off everything.
Most people with my bank account would head right to Rodeo Drive. Not me, I prefer to shop at vintage stores. Growing up with an IndyCar champion for a father, we had a lot of money—well, until my mother took my dad to the cleaners in their divorce. We still made out okay. My father saved as much as he could, and I make a decent amount myself. Of course, nowhere near what my father made. Once I win a championship, though, I plan to move out of my two-bedroom apartment and buy a place on the beach. That’s all I want. I’m not into glam, clothes or stuff like that. Give me a pair of jeans, flip-flops, and a baseball hat, and I’m good to go.
After a quick shower and a protein bar, I put on my bikini, shorts, and a tank top and head out to the hotel pool. The morning sun is bright, adding to my regret over my indulgence last night. Fortunately, I remembered my sunglasses to both conceal my identity and keep my headache to a minimum.
The brightly colored cabanas are scattered around the pool edge. It’s only nine in the morning, but several are already taken by families with small children.
After finding a cabana tucked away in the corner, I kick off my flip-flops, shimmy out of my cut-offs, and pull my baby blue tank top over my head.
This is the life, I mutter to myself. If I’m not racing, I want to be by the water. It doesn’t matter if it’s a pool, lake, ocean, or the Gulf of Mexico. There’s just something about the way water makes my brain relax. It calms me in a way nothing or no one else can.
“Can I get you something to drink, ma’am?”
I glance up from my phone and see a young cabana boy holding a tray ready to take my order. He can’t be over seventeen, if even that. Before I can respond, the cabana boy’s eyes widen with the familiar look of someone who recognizes me.
“I mean Miss Lennon, or KJ, not ma’am. You’re definitely not a ma’am.”
I smile at his bumbling. It’s cute.
“You can call me KJ. And I’d love a sweet, iced tea if you have it.” I smile back at him.
“Yes, ma’am. Shoot. KJ. I’ll be right back with that.”
Before he can scamper off, I ask for his name.
Cabana boy juts out his chest, thrusting his name tag forward for me to see. “I’m Cody. Cody Masterson.”
“Well, Cody Masterson, do you think you can keep my being here a secret? You know, just a secret between you and me?”
My newfound friend nods with vigor.
“Su
re, I won’t tell anyone.”
I smile at him, and the poor boy almost trips as he heads back into the hotel to get my drink.
Surprisingly, my chaise lounge fits me perfectly. At five foot ten, sometimes my feet hang off the end. As I snuggle into my shaded comfort, my phone alerts me to a text message. By the tone, I know it’s from my best friend, Andi. She’s back home in Tampa. I wanted her to come with me, but being a single mom, she really can’t afford to take time off right now.
Andi: So, did you go back to your room alone last night?
Leave it to her to get right to the point. The same point I’m trying to forget about. I left the bar alone, but it was a struggle.
Me: Yes, Mother. I didn’t bring Todd, aka Surfer Dude, back to my room. And no, I didn’t go to his.
Since my father died last year, I haven’t felt like celebrating, so sitting at a bar alone on a Saturday night was just what I needed. What I didn’t need was to play kissy-face with a hot as hell professional surfer. I did it anyway.
Andi: I’m surprised you’re up so early. What are you doing?
Me: Sitting by the pool, waiting for my iced tea. How was your date last night?
My best friend had her second date last night with some guy she met at a local real estate conference.
Andi: Meh, still no spark. No crackle. One more date, and I’m turning the page.
That’s Andi. Three strikes, and he’s out. I don’t blame her, though. She has a little boy to think about.
Cody, with my iced tea, arrives just as Andi and I promise to talk later.
“Thanks, Cody.” I hand him a hefty tip.
“Thanks, KJ.” His eyes smile just as big as his mouth does.
I lean back into my chair, soaking in the sounds of children laughing and swimming. My heart clenches as I think about the pool parties I had growing up. Even though my dad made a lot of money, we did not live an ostentatious life. When my grandparents died, they left their house to my dad since he was an only child. It was big enough since it was just the two of us—my mom left us when I was three. I’ve heard from her off and on—mostly off. Usually, she’ll call if she needs money, just like she did with my father after spending what she had.
As a teen, I insisted on getting a pool, so my friends and I had a place to hang out. It didn’t take much begging before my dad broke ground. After he died, I sold the house. I just couldn’t bear to be there without him.
My poor father. I miss him so much, my chest aches. He was the best dad any girl could ask for. Even with his busy schedule, my dad did the job of both parents. And he did it better than anyone else.
I swallow down the sob lingering in my throat and take a long sip of my cold drink. I grab my tablet out of my bag, eager to check out my schedule for the next two months. Scrolling through the calendar, I see Andi has filled it out for me. In her spare time, she acts as my assistant, booking appointments for me. It gives her something to do, and I’m hopeless at it.
Andi is organized and pensive, whereas I’ve been described as a mini hurricane. I’m a procrastinator, always running late. People tell me I’m too much of a free spirit. I say life’s too short to be serious. Well, that’s not true. I’m serious about one thing and one thing only—racing.
I sigh as I look at next month’s schedule. Between my training sessions, PR meetings, and sponsorship meetings, I don’t have a ton of free time. It’s probably for the best. I tend to get into trouble in my free time.
Declan
I didn’t want to take over my brother’s race team. Scratch that. My family’s race team. Always the one to sit on the sidelines and immerse myself in the paperwork of the business, I didn’t have to “people.” Now I have to “people”—a lot.
My brother, Patrick, decided instead of running the race team, he’d rather marry the love of his life and travel with her. Linda is a freelance photographer specializing in wildlife. Heading a nearly one hundred-million-dollar company doesn’t lend itself to that lifestyle. I don’t begrudge him for doing what he’s doing, but right now, I feel as though I’m way in over my head.
My sister, Maureen, has early-onset Alzheimer’s, just as our mother did. At the age of forty, my sister showed symptoms, and after the official diagnosis, her fiancé took off, leaving her devastated. I was so enraged I paid the asshole a visit. Let’s just say my ex-future-brother-in-law won’t be an issue for Maureen as she deals with what’s in front of her.
With my brother globetrotting and our parents are dead, I’m the only one able to take care of Maureen. She still wants to live on her own, but I worry. So, we compromised. I bought her a condo in the same building where I live on Fisher Island. While my condo is over three thousand square feet, hers is half that. I ended up buying a bigger one and splitting it into two, so it’s a good size for her.
My being here in California for a few days has made her somewhat anxious. She calls me several times a day, asking me the same question: When are you coming back to Florida?
My answer is always the same.
But Maureen doesn’t have to wait much longer. After a few quick meetings tomorrow, I’m back on my jet, headed home.
Pulling out my file on the current team, I scatter their dossiers across the table in my penthouse suite. It’s been my office since I arrived three days ago.
First up in my pile of paperwork is Franco Cavanetti. He’s been racing since he was five years old and has the ego to show for his experience. Franco is the playboy of the O’Donohue racing family. His escapades are well known around the circuit. My brother and I have had many discussions about whether Franco is right for our team. Fortunately for him, he’s a great money maker, so he stays—for now.
Next up is Kathy Jo “KJ” Lennon. The only female IndyCar driver slated for the upcoming season. She’s also the woman who I had my hands all over nine months ago at a charity event.
Jesus, that woman set me on fire. While she didn’t know who I was, I certainly knew her. Yeah, maybe it was a bad idea to put the moves on her knowing O’Donohue Racing employed her.
I toss her file back onto the table, but I don’t look away just yet. I won’t lie, KJ Lennon makes me a little nervous. I know she can be a hothead on the track, but that’s not it. I still remember the look on her face when I walked into the conference room. She wanted to crawl under the table, and, yeah, I felt like a bastard. I’m worried what happened between us could lead to some sort of tense professional relationship. I just hope she doesn’t hate me too much.
I haven’t stopped thinking about her since that night. How could I? Kathy Jo Lennon is a fucking knockout. The way she made me feel was something no other woman has . . . ever.
I know I need to rein myself in. As her boss, I shouldn’t be thinking about her that way, but I’m still a man. I’m a man who can appreciate the company of a beautiful woman. However, you wouldn’t know by my love life. In fact, KJ is the last woman I had my lips on.
Running my hand over my beard, I make a promise to myself to date again once this season is over.
The last team member is the rookie, Kyle Myers. My brother acquired him right before he turned things over to me. He was the Indy Lights winner last year, so I expect great things from him.
Closing my files, my mind drifts to my meeting tomorrow with KJ and the sponsors. She’s the first of my one-on-one sessions with the team members. I’ll meet with her first and then with both KJ and the sponsors. I need to get a feel of what I’m dealing with from each driver, but more so, KJ.
Before I can head out to the pool and relax for the rest of the day, my phone pings. I’ve set up alerts for whenever one of my drivers is mentioned on social media. When I scroll through my phone, I see it’s KJ. Someone tagged her in photos taken at a hotel on the other side of the city.
I have to increase the size of the photos so I can see them. In the first one, she’s dancing with some blond guy. It looks like it may be at a hotel bar, perhaps where she’s staying. The second photo is her lou
nging by the hotel pool in a barely there bikini.
Christ, I try not to stare at her, but I’m just a man. Yeah, I’m her boss, but she’s so damn beautiful. Suddenly, I’m dreading my meeting with her tomorrow. I need to keep my shit with her professional. The last thing I need is a sexual harassment suit before the season even begins.
KJ
The restaurant where I’m meeting Zander is overflowing with people. Bistro tables line the cute cobblestone street. Large cement flowerpots are filled with colorful perennials. Soft jazz music filters out from the open door where the hostess is standing.
After giving her Zander’s name, she escorts me through the open-air dining room. The restaurant is buzzing with a mix of families and business meetings.
Getty spots me first, waving me on. But before I can make it to my table, my stomach flips as I notice who is at the table behind us.
Declan O’Donohue. My new boss. The man whose lips I can’t stop thinking about. Is it okay to describe a man’s lips as soft and sexy?
“Well, look what the cat finally dragged in,” Zander says as Getty slaps his arm.
“The traffic around here is worse than Tampa. And I even left ten minutes sooner than I had planned.” My voice is high-pitched from the sudden awareness of my dining neighbor.
“You’re always late, KJ. Maybe that’s why you haven’t won a championship yet.”
“Jesus. I haven’t seen you in months, and this is the way you greet me?” I tease back as I bend over and kiss his cheek.
Zander Donavan has been my friend since the day we met and he beat me in that remote-control car race. I consider him one of my good friends, even though we compete against each other during the race season.
“Don’t let him get to you, KJ. We just got here two minutes ago. We were late too, and it wasn’t because of me,” Getty says with a grin.
“Way to blow my cover, babe. So, what have you been doing since you’ve been here?” he asks as I take my chair, careful not to bump into the sexy silver fox sitting behind me. Declan and his chiseled jaw covered in sexy stubble. Yeah, maybe over the nine months, I’ve checked him out online. He doesn’t seem to have much of a social life, but I needed to know if he has a girlfriend before seeing him again even though we could never be more than employer and employee.
Owned: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World) Page 2
