Accelerated Passion

by Lily Harlem

  “What?” She glanced over her shoulder, shocked by his words.

  He laughed. “There’s a pool outdoors. Everyone’s going in. Get your travel clothes off, put on your bikini.”

  “I don’t have a bikini,” As if she would—around her all-male team.

  “Shame. Get into your swimsuit then, and come and join us.” He gripped the base of his top and tugged it upward.

  As it lifted, he revealed a dark trail of hair from his waistband to his navel that spread up over his perfect chest, petering out when it reached his small hard nipples. His shoulders were tanned, muscular, and on his right biceps, a vibrant tattoo shaped like flames fanned over his skin.

  She snapped her mouth shut. Fuck. What was the guy playing at?

  “So,” he said, balling the T-shirt into his fist. “I guess I’ll see you down there. It’ll do us all good to cool off.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other. Now she didn’t know where to look. “Yes. I’ll…er, see you down there.”

  He tipped his head and grinned.

  Bastard. It was as if he’d guessed what effect he’d just had on her. Like he knew he’d just sent her female hormones into overdrive.

  “So are you leaving or are you going to stand here and watch me get changed?”

  His smile widened. “Is that an invitation?”

  “No, it bloody isn’t.” That was it. She’d had enough. She stepped past him, back inside, and stalked across her room. Held the handle of her door. “If you don’t mind.”

  He ambled her way, swinging his removed item of clothing.

  Fuck it, his abs were ripped. She could see every one highlighted. What would it be like to explore all those dips and curves with the tip of her tongue?

  “For the record,” he said, halting in the doorway. “My room is right there, opposite yours, so if you do fancy inviting me in, it’s not far.”

  “As if.”

  He continued to look at her.

  “I’m not one of your groupies, Dean. I’m a member of your mechanical team. Let’s keep it professional.” Which was exactly what she was trying to do, but his half-naked body standing only inches from her was making it pretty hard.

  “I know you’re not a groupie. You’ve a got a brain. And a bloke’s brain at that.”

  “How do you figure that out?”

  “Simple. You understand engines. You love speed.” He paused, and his eyes widened. “Fuck, you’re not into women, are you? Because if there’s one thing drivers and mechanics usually love more than cars, it’s women.”

  Seriously? Did she give off lesbian vibes? It could explain her lack of bedroom action lately. But damn it… “And what would it matter if I was?”

  He appeared to think for a moment. Weigh up the consequences of her being gay. “It would just be a waste, that’s all.” He turned. “To mankind,” he threw over his shoulder as he stepped quickly across the hallway and into another room. He shut the door.

  “A waste to mankind?” she muttered, locking her own door. She leaned back onto the wood, let the coolness seep through her top onto her skin. Dean Cudditch thought it would be a waste if she were into women. Did that mean… No, that was a stupid thought.

  There was no way he fancied her or found her attractive. Not for a second.

  He was just a prize flirt. In fact, if they had a World Championship for flirting and bedding poor unsuspecting women, he’d have been crowned long ago. Hell, he’d be an undefeated champion.

  Chapter Five

  Frankie put on a plain black swimsuit—about as modest as it could be with no hints of cleavage and cut sensibly around the hips. No point in drawing even more attention to her femininity.

  Wrapped in a white robe she’d found in her room, she grabbed a towel and headed down the stairs.

  As she stepped into the vacuous kitchen, she could hear the sounds of water splashing, laughter, and deep male voices.

  She located the fridge and grabbed a can of cola. The thought of sinking into a pool was becoming more appealing. Shame she couldn’t have it all to herself, but that was just being greedy. Oh, well, perhaps Dean could stay, just for the eye candy.

  She tutted and pulled the ring on her can. What was she doing thinking about him that way? She took a long drink then headed out onto the patio area.

  Jake and Enrique were messing around in the water, splashing each other. Dean and Paul were chatting. Both wore swimshorts. Dean was stretched out on a lounger, his hands clasped behind his head and showing his dark patches of underarm hair. Paul sat sideways on a lounger, elbows on his knees, and deep in discussion.

  “Hey, Frankie, come into the water,” Enrique called.

  “Yeah, I will.”

  She set down the can then allowed the robe to slip from her shoulders. She dropped it on a free lounger then kicked off her sandals. It felt good to have the sun’s heat on her skin. After taking a band from her wrist, she scraped her hair high and secured it in a makeshift bun. She stepped over to the pool, making a point of not glancing at Dean again.

  “Is it cold?” she asked Enrique.

  “No, not once you are in.” He watched her closely.

  She dipped her toe into the water. “Bloody hell, it’s freezing.”

  “No, it’s not,” Jake said, striking out and swimming to the opposite end. “Come on.”

  “It must have run down from a glacier.” Frankie looked at the large expanse of chilly blue water in front of her.

  Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She was trapped against a hot hard torso and forced forward, into the air.

  The solid body came with her, propelling her.

  “Argh!” she squealed.

  The water was getting closer, drawing nearer. She was going in, there was no doubt about it. Her feet hit then the rest of her body. The pool seemed to swallow her up, and the cold stabbed at her flesh like hundreds of tiny knives.

  She kicked out as the water rushed into her ears and over her scalp, and she headed for the surface. As she gulped in a mouthful of air, Dean appeared to her right. He was laughing as he shook the water from his face.

  “Fucking hell,” she shouted, sending an arc of spray his way.

  He laughed harder and retaliated with a heavy splash of his own, which hit her in the face.

  “Are you always so bloody immature?” she shouted, rubbing her eyes.

  “Are you always such a baby about getting in a pool?” He was still grinning as he slipped onto his back and floated.

  “I just like to do it in my own time.” She swam to the side.

  “Yeah, well. Sometimes you just have to take the bull by the horns and get on with it.”

  She frowned and shivered. Dean was such a prat. No one else she’d ever worked with would dare do that to her.

  “You okay?” Enrique asked, looking concerned.

  “Of course, she’s okay. She’s tough. Aren’t you, Frankie?” Dean said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m in now. Might as well get some exercise.”

  She struck forward and broke into a front crawl. It didn’t take long to reach the far end, and she did a neat underwater turn then headed back. She’d been on the school swimming team, competed in local tournaments. Swimming, despite what Dean likely thought, was something she could do.

  By the time she’d completed fifty lengths, she was feeling warm rather than cold. She hoisted herself out, squeezed the water from her hair then wrapped the towel around her body.

  Dean was sitting on his lounger again. He wore a T-shirt, and shades covered his eyes. She had no idea if he watched her or not, but she didn’t care. What did it matter?

  Once she’d sat, he glanced at his watch. “I was hoping to see some of the others arrive, but I’ve got to go out.”

  “Oh, where you off to?” Paul asked, rubbing suntan lotion onto the freckled skin on his shoulders.

  “Meeting someone I haven’t seen for a while.” He pressed his hand over his chest. “Been loo
king forward to it.”

  “Have fun.” Paul grinned.

  “I will.” Dean stood and grabbed keys that sat on the table next to his lounger. “See you all later.”

  Frankie pressed her lips together. If he thought she was speaking to him after he’d thrown her in the pool, he had another thing coming. He’d have to start showing her a bit more damn respect.

  * * * *

  Over the next few hours, the other members of the team arrived. All were in high spirits, pleased to have made it to the destination after a long drive.

  Frankie headed up the stairs to her room. She showered, washed her hair then put on jeans and a T-shirt. She wondered what the plan was for dinner.

  It seemed everyone had already made the decision, and a huge order of pizzas was on the way.

  That suited her well. Pizza was good.

  Dean didn’t join them. Not that she’d expected him to. He was probably out wining and dining some bimbo who he’d later bring back and shag senseless in the room opposite hers. She hoped he’d keep the noise down. Otherwise she’d have to hunt out her earplugs. Better still, she hoped he’d find a hotel room. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford it. He had more money than he knew what to do with.

  When she’d finally had enough of the team’s banter, she wandered up the stairs to bed. Dean’s door was still open, the way it had been when he’d left. She didn’t expect to see him for a few days. He wasn’t needed at the track. It was their job to get the car ready for action.

  Settling into bed, she was pleased her room wasn’t above the kitchen. The blokes were noisy. Their chatter and laughter filtered up the stairs. Their mood was upbeat, which was good.

  She opened her book and snuggled a little deeper into the pillow. Sleep wouldn’t be long coming. The drive and getting used to her new environment had been tiring.

  When she woke, the house was silent and her book still in her hand. She hadn’t even turned her light off. She must have fallen asleep mid-page.

  There was no hint of light coming from around her curtains, though there was a ribbon of amber glowing beneath her door. The hall lamp was still on. She glanced at her clock. It was just past midnight. Earlier than she’d thought the team would all be in bed. Perhaps good sense had gotten the better of them, not something that happened often with her old team, but then this was McLaren.

  She realized her throat was dry, and decided to slip out to the kitchen for a glass of water. After pulling on her robe, she opened her door and stepped into the hallway.

  Much to her surprise, Dean’s door was now shut. He must be back. He wasn’t asleep, though. There was light shining from beneath his door.

  She sighed and hoped he was alone.

  As she went around the edge of the bannister, she heard a low humming sound coming from his room. For a moment she paused, wondering what it was. Then she continued on her way down the stairs.

  She filled a tumbler with water and frowned at the carnage that was a dozen or so pizza boxes plus many bottles of beer. Then she headed back to bed.

  Walking past Dean’s door for the second time, she noticed his light was off. The low humming sound had stopped. Again, she paused, hoping not to hear gasps and groans. But there was nothing. Just silence.

  She headed into her room and shut up the door. She settled back down to sleep and within minutes, once again drifted off.

  * * * *

  The alarm penetrated her dream, invading a scene where she was working on an engine change in some far away and very hot country. For a moment she thought it was the hiss of the air guns, but then as consciousness crept up on her, she remembered the here and now.

  She was in Germany, in a beautiful house, in the room opposite Dean Cudditch. Today, she had to get to the track and supervise the arrival of the car.

  Once dressed, she made her way down the stairs. The kitchen was tidy, and she glanced around, wondering who’d been busy.

  Movement just outside the back door caught her attention. She put the kettle on, then went to breathe in the fresh air.

  Dean was cramming the pizza boxes into a large green bin. He must have sensed she was there because he looked up. “Hey, how are you?”

  “I’m sure the lads would have tidied that up. You didn’t even have any.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s just nice to have everyone here. I take it spirits were high.”

  “Yes, but they weren’t up late.”

  “Good. There’s lots to be done at the track.”

  “Are you heading over there with us?”

  “No, I’ve got stuff to do in the city. An appointment with a tiger.”

  “Tiger?”

  “Yep, apparently.” He slammed down the lid on the bin then rubbed his hands together as though removing crumbs.

  Well, that was a unique name for the hottie he was obviously laying. Frankie bet it was because she was wicked with her fingernails when they were going at it. She turned away, not liking the image that popped into her mind of him with some taloned creature who took pleasure in leaving scratch marks over his sexy body. Down his back, over his buttocks…

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked.

  “Tea. A girl after my own heart.”

  “Does that mean yes?”

  “It does. Can’t stand coffee.”

  “No, me neither.”

  Frankie found tea bags and made a pot. She located fresh milk and shoved bread into the toaster. She glanced at her watch. She hoped the team would stir soon. She’d intended for them to be at the track before the car arrived. Get settled into their pit and workshop. It was some time before the next Grand Prix, but, still, it didn’t do any harm to get moved in.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Paul walked into the kitchen, his hair bed-ruffled and a pillow crease on his cheek. “Good night, mate?” He clapped his hand down on Dean’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, not bad.” He smiled.

  “The girl well?”

  “Yeah, they both are.” Dean nodded then accepted the mug Frankie passed him. “Thanks.”

  Both! What had he been doing? Out for a quick ménage a trois then home by midnight. Jesus, the bloke was unreal.

  She picked up her own cup of tea and took a sip. The heat that spread over her tongue and down her gullet was nothing like the flame traveling over her scalp and down her spine.

  But what the hell did it matter to her who international playboy Dean Cudditch screwed, or if he were at it with more than one person at a time? He was nothing to her except a work colleague.

  The toast popped up. She startled slightly.

  “You okay, Frankie?” Paul asked, rubbing his stubbled cheek.

  “Yeah, just anxious to get everyone to the circuit.”

  “I know what you mean. I’ll go and bang on a few doors. Get them all moving.”

  “Yes, good idea.” She found a knife then butter and began to scrape it over her toast.

  “I’ll see you later,” Dean said, heading out of the kitchen. “Hope it all goes well.”

  Frankie wanted to warn him to be careful playing with tigers. They were known for being sneaky and cunning and taking what they could. Chances were, a sexy millionaire racing driver would make for a very healthy divorce settlement if a woman managed to get her claws in far enough.

  But Frankie held in her words. In fact, taking heed of her mother’s advice, she didn’t speak at all for fear of what might come tumbling out.

  * * * *

  The morning at the track went well. The team were happy, the support vehicle arrived on time, and they began the mammoth task of unloading. There was good banter going on with other teams, and the sun was once again shining.

  Frankie enjoyed lunch in the on-site canteen with Enrique, Paul, and Jake. She was hungry after being on the go all morning. It was physical work, and there was lots to think about.

  By the time the sun was starting to dip toward the horizon and the shadows were lengthening, she was ready to go back to the house. Th
oughts of a hot shower, her big soft bed, and a book were becoming more and more appealing.

  As Jake drove them down the narrow road, she found herself staring out of the back window. The scenery was pretty. The houses could have come straight from picture postcards.

  She wondered how Dean had got on with his tiger. If he’d spent the day romping around a posh hotel room in Hockenheim, sipping champagne from his companion’s navel, ordering fancy room service, fucking until he could fuck no more.

  Crossing her legs, she tried not to think of the dream she’d had about him. But it was hard not to. Especially when she knew what it was like to be backed into a corner by him, have him wrap his arm around her, and pull her against his near-naked torso. How it felt to have all of his attention centered on her.

  Eventually, Jake pulled the car to a halt on the gravel. She noticed a Porsche parked to the right that hadn’t been there before.

  “Whose is that?”

  “Dean’s.” Jake nodded at a garage with an open door. “I guess he hasn’t put it away yet.”

  She surveyed the sleek line of the roof and bonnet. It was a stunning midnight blue that seemed almost pearlescent. But, of course, he had an amazing car for driving around and visiting his lady friends. He probably had a car like this in every country he raced in, just sitting waiting for him.

  She climbed out, dragged the strap of her bag up her arm then stomped toward the front door.

  It was open as a straggler had just arrived with his suitcase, and she nodded hello to him. He’d have to double up in one of the attic rooms, but no one seemed too bothered about that.

  “Do you want a drink, Frankie?” Enrique asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll have a beer, but I’m going to take a shower first.”

  He grinned. “Okay, I’ll see you after then.”

  She mooched up the stairs, her legs weary.

  When she drew level with Dean’s room, she heard the low tones of his voice.

  He was on the phone. The conversation one-sided.

  “It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pause. “Yes. I promise. Same time. And thank you for the picture. I love it.” Another pause. “Can I speak to her now? Yes. Goodbye. Love you.”