by Alexia Adams
Biting back a frustrated groan, he temporarily halted his assault on her senses. He was back in his world now. Time they did things his way. “I’m just living up to my reputation. You made me into an international playboy. According to you, I live for the conquest.”
“I don’t count. Move on.”
“We both know that’s not an option. We have unresolved lust issues that neither of us is going to be able to ignore much longer.”
“Daniel, please.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do—please you. Let’s go back to my room for an hour or so. The reception isn’t until eight.” He trailed his lips from her ear down to the collar of her shirt, encouraged by the quiver that shot through her.
“Max—” Her protest was weakened by the moan that escaped her lips as he rubbed his thumb over her already-hard nipple.
“Is. With. Genevieve. That’s what I’m paying her for, remember? To look after him.”
“While I’m working.”
“Or playing.”
She put both her hands on his chest and pushed. Not sufficient to move him but enough to get her message across. “I can’t do this right now.”
He’d make a strategic retreat and try again later. “All right. The reception for my team sponsor is in the main ballroom. Meet me there at eight.”
Without waiting for her to object, he left the room and headed for a cold shower.
He needed all of his focus if he wasn’t going to crash in the first corner melee on Sunday. If he didn’t deal with this frustration and distraction, he could kiss the championship goodbye right now.
Damn that woman. He had to get her out of his system before the race. He’d make love to her and be done with it. It was time to put all that playboy practice into action.
***
Lexy stepped into the noisy ballroom, scanning it for her father. Who was she kidding? She was looking for Daniel. Tonight was going to be a real test of her mettle. Could she watch him flirt with and seduce other women and not rugby tackle them? She was about to see the real Daniel Michaud. This was truly his world, where he ruled as king.
A tuxedo-clad waiter passed by and she snagged a glass of sparkling wine so she at least looked like she belonged. She took a sip. Blecch, Russian. No wonder almost everyone’s glasses were still full. At least she wasn’t in danger of getting drunk and throwing herself at Daniel. Her body still hummed from his kisses and caresses in her hotel room. Maybe if she laid claim to him first, he wouldn’t have to flirt with other women. Except, wasn’t that exactly what she was supposed to ensure? There was only so much aggravation a woman could take. Wanting one thing and having to do the exact opposite was tearing her apart.
A draught of air blew across her naked shoulders. She wished she hadn’t listened to Genevieve and had brought her wrap with her. Max had cheerfully waved her goodnight, telling her she looked “bootiful” before returning his attention to the book Genevieve was reading to him. A pang of jealousy had shot through her. Reading the bedtime story was her job.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a tingle invaded her nerve endings. Even before he spoke, she knew Daniel was near. “You are magnificent,” he said in her ear. She could feel the heat from his body wrap around her from behind. She was no longer chilled. It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to lean back into him. “This is very nice. The color suits you. But I’m still waiting to see you in the blue dress.”
As she turned around, the satin of her brown gown slid against her skin like a caress. As nice as it felt, she wished it were Daniel’s hands and lips on her. This line of thought was going to end up with her in a dark corner somewhere, her photo splashed all over the Internet. She closed her eyes to try to gather her scattered brain cells, but the image of Daniel in his dark suit, pure white shirt, and green tie wouldn’t be banished. She’d seen hundreds of photos of him in formal attire while working on the initial advertising campaign, so she should have been immune. But no photo could capture the sheer power and charisma he exuded. Now, if they could package that…
“I’m saving the blue dress for your victory party on Sunday.”
“Then I’m going to win the race just to see you wear it.” His eyes devoured her. This wasn’t going to work. One look at them and people would know something was going on between them. Unless this was how he looked at every woman.
“You’ll win the race to solidify your position in the championship.” God, why was her voice so breathless?
“That’s the line I’ll tell everyone. You and me, we’ll know the truth.” His gaze roved over her again, lingering on the swell of her breasts under the satin fabric. International Playboy Daniel was in high gear. ”Are you sure you don’t want to go up to my room? I could plead a headache.”
Tempting. But she had a job to do, even though she hated it. “And miss my first F1 party?” She put a couple of feet distance between them.
“Haven’t you been to one of these before?”
“No. I was too young to attend the evening events. My parents used to go out every night, though. I’d be left in the room with the hotel babysitter. Most of the time they only spoke the local language.”
“Did you resent that? Being left behind, I mean?”
“No. Mum would dress up and look like a princess. It was one of the few times she was happy. Dad looked so handsome in his suits. And I learned a lot of languages from my babysitters.”
“Now you’re the princess who gets to go to the balls.” His gaze roved over her again. Man, was it hot in here or what?
“More like Cinderella who gets to hang out at the parties and make sure Prince Charming dances with all the real princesses.”
His jaw clenched and a muscle jumped in his cheek. “Come meet my team.”
He put his hand on her back and steered her toward a group of people. Many she recognized from watching F1 races on the telly. All greeted her warmly. She ruthlessly shut down the sensation that she was getting her family back. She couldn’t go through the withdrawals again. She had to remember it was her and Max. Period.
“Hey, everyone,” Daniel said. “This is Lexy. She’s representing Destin Designs and is supposed to make sure I don’t get into any trouble.”
“Ha, ha, good luck with that, Lexy,” one of the mechanics said.
“It will be a trial. But someone has to do it.” She let out a weary sigh that made the group laugh.
“You look familiar. Have you been around F1 before?” Alan Stewart asked. He’d been a driver when she knew him; now he was a consultant with Daniel’s team.
“Good memory. I was this high”—she put her hand at hip level—“when you knew me before. My last name is Camparelli.” She waited for the explosion and wasn’t disappointed.
“Oh my God, you’re Alexandra Camparelli!” Therein followed lots of hugs, and comments along the lines of, “I knew you were going to grow up to be a beauty.” Daniel mouthed, “I told you so,” while one of the men gave her a hug.
“Does your father know you’re here?” Alan asked. “And with Daniel Michaud?”
“Hey, I resemble that remark,” Daniel protested.
Lexy let out a brittle laugh. The closer it got, the more anxious she was about her reunion with her father. What if he didn’t welcome her with open arms? What if he turned his back on her? “No, he doesn’t. And I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me surprise him.”
“Just make sure Jean Lefebre is around when you do it. Wouldn’t want Gian-Franco to have another heart attack,” someone said.
Her father had a heart problem? Her chest tightened and it was hard to pull in a breath. What if she’d lost him without making amends for the way they’d parted?
“Jean is the doctor contracted to Formula 1 to make sure all the drivers are fit to drive. He’s Jacqueline’s husband,” Daniel clarified.
Jacqueline. The reason Lexy was here in the first place. A niggle of trepidation slid down her spine, bumping each vertebrae
as it went.
“I am so glad you’re back with us, Alexandra. Give my love to your mother when you next see her,” Alan said before excusing himself from the group. She had no plans to see her mother any time soon. God, her family was such a mess. F1 did that to people. The highs were immense, but the lows unbearable for some.
As if sensing her shift in mood, Daniel put his arm around her waist. “Dance with me?”
“I don’t think that’s wise. I’m supposed to make sure you’re seen with other women.”
“You are the only woman I see.” His intense green eyes caught her gaze and she couldn’t look away. She’d been so very wrong. A playboy didn’t make love to every woman in the room. He made each woman feel like she was the only one he wanted.
Unable to deny him, or herself, she accompanied him to the dance floor and managed not to release a sigh of contentment as his arms came around her.
“Are you worried about meeting your father again?” His lips were against her temple and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment. This was probably just standard operating procedure for him. No one would notice anything different.
“A little. Things didn’t go so well last time I saw him. The phrases, ‘You never loved me’ and ‘I hate you’ were screamed a lot. Now to learn he has a heart problem … what if he sees me and collapses? Or worse, turns his back on me?”
“I’m sure he won’t. I’ve met him a few times and got the impression he’s lonely. He’ll be happy to have you and Max in his life.”
He pulled her a fraction closer and nibbled on her ear. “I’ve put in an appearance now. We can leave anytime.”
The slow song ended and was replaced by one with a faster tempo. At least the Russian band was better than the wine. She put a more respectable distance between her and Daniel, much to her body’s annoyance. “We can’t leave together. And we’re doing a terrible job of convincing people we aren’t a couple. We have to find some other woman for you to leave with.”
“Pour l’amour de Dieu, Lexy.”
Damn it, why’d he have to be so difficult? Did he think this was easy for her? He could afford to walk away from his Destin Designs contract and do whatever he pleased. Or whoever. She wasn’t so lucky. Pulling out of his arms, she found a spot in the corner of the ballroom from where she could see everyone. Eventually, Daniel joined her. She refused to look at his face.
“What about her? She’s beautiful.” Lexy pointed out a blond woman dressed in six square inches of fabric.
“She’s too skinny, and she’s got so much filler in her lips it would be like kissing a balloon. Plus, she’s dressed like a prostitute. I have standards, you know.” He almost huffed out his refusal.
Great, a picky playboy. Wasn’t that an oxymoron or something?
“Okay, what about the brunette talking to the guy with the really bad toupée?”
“Her face is so full of Botox, if a mosquito bit her it would die on contact. I prefer a more natural woman.”
Lexy scanned the room again. Natural was in short supply with this crowd. Dismissing the women who were obviously married or already hanging on the arm of some man left only about two dozen.
“Okay, her, the one in the elegant black dress, with dark hair, and blue eyes. She’s beautiful, not too skinny, as natural as you’re going to get in this group, and looks like she has a sense of humor.”
“Her boobs are fake. Look, they don’t even move when she laughs.”
“God, you’re choosy. I’m trying to get you a date, not find you a wife.”
Something flashed across his eyes but was gone before she could define it. “That’s not amusing.”
This isn’t fun for me, either.
“Fine. You want a naturally endowed, curvy woman, with wrinkles and style.” She scanned the party again. “Oh, I’ve got her. The woman who just walked in, so she won’t have seen us together. She’s good-looking, natural, her boobs look real, and she’s nicely dressed. My work here is done.” Lexy forced a note of enthusiasm in her voice. Picking out one’s replacement sucked even more than a Dyson.
“No.”
She turned to stare up at him. He had that look in his eyes again. “No? She meets every single one of your criteria. What’s wrong with her?”
He took her hand and kissed the back of it, holding her gaze. “She’s not you.”
Chapter 9
When a man told you he didn’t want to be with any other woman in the room, you ran. Or melted. That was Lexy’s other option.
Thankfully he didn’t follow, and she made it to her suite without meeting anyone who knew her. And then her body punished her the rest of the night by replaying the sound of Daniel’s voice over and over again. Her first test and she’d failed. If she lost her job, would it be Daniel’s fault or hers?
The next morning she powered up her laptop and scanned the gossip sites, with one eye open for images from the night before. Had Daniel hooked up with some woman, or had he escaped without getting his photo taken? At the very end of the report on last night’s event was a small photo with the caption: Has the playboy been played? Daniel was staring with undisguised interest at the retreating figure of a woman in a chocolate brown dress. She enlarged the photo as much as she could, but it was impossible to tell that the woman was her. Unless you’d been at the party. Could she trust in the discretion of Daniel’s team? They were the only ones who knew who she was. For now.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming message: Blonde last week. Brunette this week. Keep up the good work.
It wasn’t even five a.m. in London. Why was Mr. Petersen up so early? He must be really paranoid about this campaign. What if he decided to check up on her personally?
There was a soft knock on the hotel room door and she raced to answer it. Max was still asleep due to the time change.
“Daniel.” He was already dressed in his overalls, his green eyes distant when he glanced at her. He made no move to enter the room or even touch her.
“Here’s your paddock pass. You’ve got all access. I’m going to be on the track most of the day, but if you need to get in touch with me, my team will be able to get a message through. I’ll have the PR woman send you a list of all my scheduled appearances.” He handed her the lanyard with the plastic pass dangling at the bottom and turned to leave.
“Wait.”
He stopped but didn’t look back.
“I had to leave. There’s too much at stake to throw it all away on something with no future.”
“Well, I’m the one paying the price with sleepless nights. I broke my number one rule and got involved with a woman during the race season. I have to concentrate on my car now. I’ll see you around.”
And he was gone.
He thought they were involved? This was so complicated. Most girls went through these scenarios during their teens. Although she had a failed marriage behind her, she was still a novice in the relationship department. And what exactly did “involvement” with Daniel entail?
The questions plagued her all morning. After breakfast she and Genevieve took Max to a nearby children’s park. Genevieve was tense and nervous, looking around constantly for signs of danger. Max’s squeals of delight eventually drew a smile from his skittish nanny. Lexy, however, was thinking about what Daniel had said this morning, so much she nearly got knocked out by her son on the swings. Should she spend one night with him and get it over with? Or tell him to find someone else to conquer because they were colleagues and he had to respect that?
After lunch back in the suite, Genevieve picked up the access pass Daniel had left. “I’ll take Max to the hotel pool until it’s his nap time. You go to the track.”
“I’m not sure Daniel wants to see me.”
“The question is: what do you want?”
He had made her promise to do one thing each day for herself. She wanted to see him drive, and going to the track today when it was unlikely her father would be around yet meant she could absorb the atmosphere without worry
. Lexy quickly changed into the animal print jumpsuit and kissed Max goodbye. Her son was so in love with Genevieve, he hardly noticed her leave. Damn, it would be bad enough that she was never going to be satisfied with her humdrum life when this was over. She felt alive for the first time in so long. She didn’t need her son devastated as well. Although she was pretty sure a three-year-old’s heartbreak could be cured with a new toy or a trip to the zoo.
Three of the other drivers’ wives were in the lobby and offered her a lift to the track. Within five minutes, despite the fact that they each spoke a different native language, they were laughing and giggling like best friends. “Tomorrow before qualifying, a bunch of us WAGs are going to get our hair done. The TV cameras love to spot us in the garages, and I swear my gray hairs multiply in HD,” Tara, one of the wives, said. If this woman had ever had a gray hair amongst her jet-black locks, Lexy’d eat one of Max’s toy cars. Evidently even beautiful women had their moments of insecurity.
“Sure, I’d love to come. But I’m not a wife or girlfriend. I’m working with Daniel.”
“Of course, sweetie. We believe you. Although I’ve never seen Daniel devour any of his other colleagues with his eyes the way he does you. And you were pretty cozy on the dance floor last night.” Mandy was married to Robert, Daniel’s teammate.
Heat engulfed Lexy’s face. “That was…” She wasn’t an accomplished enough liar to finish the sentence.
“Leave her alone, Mandy. When she watches the race on Sunday, she’ll know,” Louisa said.
“Know what?” Lexy had watched hundreds of F1 races in her life. What kind of epiphany did they expect her to have this time?
“If you’re in love with a man behind the wheel, you’ll feel every curve, every dip in the track, as though you were in the car yourself,” Mandy said.
“And you’ll hold your breath so much you may black out,” Louisa added.
“I have to put disgusting stuff on my nails so I don’t bite them.” Tara flashed her nails, bitten down to the quick. “It doesn’t always work.”
More tips for coping with the stress of watching the man you love hurtling around a race track at 300 kilometers an hour in a car with enough power to break orbit followed. She listened and nodded at the right moments without too much worry about needing their advice. She wasn’t in love with Daniel. Sure, she might be a bit more invested in the race results because she had a personal stake in the game now. If Daniel won the championship, his advertising value would go through the roof.
