by Lily Harlem
She watched him stroll casually, in just a towel, to his room.
Honestly, would a little haste have hurt? He didn’t usually object to speed.
She shut her door and released her towel, letting it pool on the floor. After a quick rummage through her cupboard, she opted for black skinny jeans and a silky dusky blue T-shirt. It was the dressiest outfit she had. Combined with low black heels and silver earrings that held tiny blue stones in the center, she thought it would just about do. Okay, it wasn’t some body-molding bandage dress that showed every curve or a top that displayed her breasts to a point of indecent exposure—which was likely what Dean’s usual dinner dates wore—but it was comfortable, smart, and, well…it was her.
And Dean seemed to like her the way she was. At least, that’s what he’d said. He didn’t mind if people knew they were together. He’d be proud.
A swelling in her chest caught her breath. She frowned. No. She couldn’t start thinking of him that way. The L word simply couldn’t be mentioned, not even in her thoughts.
They were having fun, that was all. Hot, sexy, fun. But sooner or later, probably sooner, a groupie like the one at Silverstone, what was her name? Hannah. Would slide onto his lap and into his bed, and she’d be left in the pits with just memories.
No. She had to keep Dean too-fucking-gorgeous-for-his-own-good-Cudditch safely in the fun box.
Chapter Eleven
“Hey, Frankie, where are you going?” Enrique called.
Frankie froze half in, half out of the kitchen side door. Damn, she’d thought she was alone, that the men were all in the other room, munching pizza.
“Er, just out for a bit?”
“Where?” His gaze took in her outfit as he popped open a can of beer.
“Out, for a walk.”
“It’s dark.”
“Well, there’s still a bit of light.” There wasn’t. It was full on nighttime now.
He frowned at the black window. “I should come with you?”
“No, no. I’ll be fine.” She shifted from one foot to the other.
“But…” He stepped toward her, set his can on the table. “I don’t mind, and I think—”
“Really, Enrique. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.” She spotted the car keys on a shelf to her right. “In fact, I might walk and drive.” She grabbed them and swirled the ring round her finger so that the metal clattered.
“Walk and drive? But where?”
“See the sights. We’re in Germany. It’s beautiful. Long way from where I grew up on the other side of the world. I want to take in the culture.”
“I will come with you. I should also see the culture.” He grinned.
“No. Really. I want to be alone.” She stepped out into the cool darkness.
“When will you be back?” He frowned.
“Late, much later. Don’t worry, don’t wait up.”
“I will worry.”
“No. Don’t.” Damn it, she hated seeing his handsome young face all twisted with confusion. “I’m the sort of person who needs to get away from it all sometimes.” She shrugged. “Just the way I am. Go enjoy pizza with the guys. See you tomorrow. At breakfast.”
“Okay.” He managed a smile. “And we have a day off tomorrow. A whole day to do something nice.”
“Yes. That will be lovely.”
Quickly, she shut the door then walked into the black shadows and away from the house. Lying was her least favorite thing to do, but what choice did she have? She wasn’t ready—and would she ever be?—to tell the team about her and Dean.
Her shoes crunched quietly on the gravel as she made her way past several trees toward a row of laurel bushes.
What if it all went wrong? What if this time next week he rolled back here with a bevy of beauties on his arm, and she had to sit and watch the show? It would be bad enough without her team wondering if she were handling it.
Which she would. She’d have to. Besides, she knew what he was like. She was under no illusion. A leopard didn’t change their spots—well, certainly not for a tomboy mechanic who had a habit of saying it exactly how it was.
“Hey you.”
“Fuck!” Her heart rate tripled, and a shot of adrenaline rushed into her system.
Dean stood before her. He’d stepped out from behind a huge bush.
“Are you trying to scare the shit out of me?” she demanded, swatting him hard on the shoulder.
He chuckled. “I didn’t want you walking in the dark on your own.”
“Bloody hell, since when did I become the hapless damsel in distress?”
“Nothing hapless about you, babe.” He wound his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and guided her down the driveway. “I’m just a gentleman, that’s all. And gentlemen don’t allow ladies to walk down creepy dark paths.”
“Yeah, right,” she mumbled. Though she couldn’t deny the feel of his hot, hard body pressed against her side was rather nice.
“The car’s a bit further along.” He pointed ahead.
“Where are we going for dinner?”
“There’s a place I went to a few years ago with Ruben. It’s a bit out of the way. We’ll have to go up a few junctions on the autobahn, but it’s really nice traditional German food.”
“Sounds good to me. Anything other than pizza. I swear if eat one more slice, I’ll turn into a pepperoni.”
He laughed and pointed his key fob in the direction they were heading. “We wouldn’t want that. I like you just the way you are.”
In the distance, a beep and a flash of amber showed her where Dean’s car was. He’d slotted it beneath a tree, half hidden to anyone passing on the driveway.
“Here we go,” he said, opening the passenger side. “Prepare to be taken on the ride of your life.” He winked then slammed the door.
Ride of her life?
“What the fuck…” she muttered, “…does that mean?”
Autobahn.
No speed limits.
Bloody hell, what had she just agreed to?
Dean slipped into the driver’s seat. He buckled up and started the engine. It came to life with an expensive and exquisite purr.
He gave the accelerator some action, and several thunderous revs drummed from the engine. The noise must have shaken the trees and roared up to the house.
“So much for sneaking away,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap.
He turned to her, the red lights from the dash slicing shadows over his face. He grinned broadly. “Hold on, babe.”
“No, Dean, I—” She squealed as she was thrust backward in her seat, her head nestling against the rest.
“Relax. It will be fun.”
“But…” She braced as he swung a right onto the deserted main road. “Fuck.”
“You’re hungry,” he said, slamming up the gears.
“I know…” She clutched the seat belt that was tight over her chest.
“So we don’t want to leave it too much longer ‘til you eat.” He put the car up another gear, his movement so fast, his hand was a blur.
They came to a bend in the road.
He didn’t slow, didn’t change speed at all. If anything, he went faster.
Frankie held her breath. Shit.
He handled the bend as if it weren’t even there. The car’s direction smooth and sleek even though it had tipped to the left.
A thrill went through her and mixed with the other tumble of emotions flooding her veins.
“You okay?” he asked over the sound of the engine.
“Er…yeah.” Was she?
“Good.”
He spun the wheel to the right, and they headed onto another road, the headlights highlighting their way.
Frankie’s bum slid on the seat. She again held her breath and clutched her seatbelt.
“The autobahn is just up here,” he said, nodding at the road ahead.
“Oh, good. We can go faster.”
“Exactly.” He threw a wi
cked grin her way.
Fuck.
She wanted to tell him to stop. To behave. But as they approached the adjoining road to the autobahn, something prevented her.
How many people got the chance to be driven by Dean Cudditch—the Dean Cudditch? World Champion driver.
Their speed increased, Dean overtaking a car that was already going at an impressive rate on the autobahn.
“You won’t kill us, will you?”
“Hey.” He reached over and squeezed her knee. “Of course not.”
“Hold the fucking wheel!”
“Okay, okay.” He did as she’d asked. “Driving fast is perfectly safe if you know what you’re doing. And, babe, I do.”
The Porsche seemed to come to life. If it had been going fast before, now it was tearing along.
It felt super-sonic to Frankie. She clenched her fists. Excitement raced through her as she stared at the empty road stretching into the distance. She’d been on a race track, been pretty fast, too. But she didn’t have the skill or the know how to really go for it.
And Dean was going for it.
She glanced over at him. His face was alight. Speed was his drug, and he was flying high. He’d never looked more handsome to her than in that moment. Doing his thing. Having fun. Being the crazy, top-class sportsman that made people the world over adore him.
“I never get tired of it,” he said, a grin spreading on his face.
“What?”
“Acceleration. The way it makes your body feel. It makes my skin tingle, my stomach flip. It makes me want more, more, more. Faster, faster, faster.”
“I think we’re going fast enough.”
“Ah, I think there’s some more in her.”
Once again, he put his foot down. The revs increased as did the speed at which the trees on the verges whizzed past.
Frankie laughed. A loud, slightly hysterical sound that filled the car.
“You love it, too,” he said. “I can tell.”
“Yes. Yes.”
Jesus, what kind of crazy speed were they traveling at now?
She released her grip on the seatbelt and held onto the door. Peered at the speedometer.
But as she looked, Dean began to slow the car.
All she saw was the needle dropping.
A little stab of disappointment poked at her chest. Much as the drive had been adrenaline-inducing, she’d also known she couldn’t be in safer hands. Very few men in the world could drive like Dean. He was a master of his game.
“It’s the next junction,” he said, pointing at a sign that shot past them. “Not far now.”
“Nothing’s far at that speed.” Another giggle burst from her. She pressed her fingers over her lips. “I should be mad as hell at you.”
“But you’re not. I knew you wouldn’t be.”
“Quite a gamble.”
“People think I’m a risk-taker,” he said, dropping down a gear as they took the slip road. “But I only ever take calculated risks. If there’s a chance it won’t go my way, I judge the odds. Risk is all about educated guesses if you want to stay alive.”
“And you had an educated guess that I wouldn’t demand to be taken home instantly for your stunt.”
He slowed further and joined a road with several cars driving in front. “Babe, you’re a top mechanic for McLaren. The chances of you not liking to go fast are pretty damn slim.”
“Well, you’ve got me there.”
“Have I?” He reached across and took her hand. “Got you, that is?”
“For tonight.”
“Good.”
A few minutes later Dean turned down a narrower road.
“It’s along here.”
Frankie watched as they passed the last in a row of houses. “Is it?”
“Yep.”
Suddenly, a few bright lights shone from the blackness.
“There,” he said. “Look.”
Frankie was glad. She really was very hungry now.
He indicated and pulled into the car park. “Are you good at reverse parking?” he asked.
“I can do it?”
“Could you get in that one?” He pointed at a space to his right next to a van.
“Of course.”
What was he on about? It was plenty big enough.
“Like this?”
“Well, I—” Again, she squealed.
He pressed his foot to the floor. The car had sped up alarmingly. The van was approaching at speed.
She was flung to the right as he applied the handbrake.
The wheels screeched as the Porsche skidded, the back end flipping toward the van.
“Fuck!” she managed, clutching the door and the dash.
The car came to a rapid stop.
It was perfectly parallel with the van and facing forward, ready to drive away.
“Jesus, fucking, Christ,” Frankie said, panting.
“Hell, yeah!” Dean smacked his hand on the steering wheel and laughed loudly.
She stared at him and shook her head. “Is this how you romance a girl, Mr. Cudditch?”
“A girl like you, yeah.” He leaned over and pressed a quick hard kiss on her lips. “Now come on. All that speed has made me hungry.”
Soon they were sat in a booth in the quaint restaurant. Just like the house they were staying in, wood was the predominant material. Candles were set on the tables, their flames shivering delicately, and there was an excess of lace—the tablecloths, the curtains, the waitress’ apron.
“What are you going to have?” Dean asked, studying his menu.
“Mmm…” She read the descriptions, written in German, beneath each dish. “Probably the schnitzel.”
“Where is that?”
“Here.” She pointed to his menu.
“Sounds good. I wonder what it comes with?”
“Salad, sauerkraut, bread, and either chips, jacket potato, or mash.”
“Does it?” He frowned. “Where does it say that?”
“Right underneath.”
He raised his eyebrows and looked at her. “You can read that?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Anything else you want translated?”
“How about that sign?” He pointed toward the door and tipped his head as though wondering if she were tricking him.
Frankie glanced over her shoulder. “It says vehicles left at owners’ risk. Which is just as well, considering some of the drivers’ parking skills around here.” She grinned.
“So what other languages can you speak?”
He seemed genuinely impressed and interested.
“French, Spanish, a bit of Italian, but I could do with spending more time there to get really fluent.”
“Wow.”
“Nothing wow about it. I just found it really easy to pick up languages when I was at school. The teachers recognized it and encouraged me. Then doing this job, spending time with team members of different nationalities, traveling, too.” She paused, not wanting to sound like she was bragging. “It’s useful, you know, to be able to have conversations wherever you are in the world.”
“You’re not kidding. You can order for us both in a minute. Save me looking like a bumbling idiot trying to do it.”
“Okay.” She laughed.
A trilling sound came from his pocket.
He frowned, pulled out his phone, and glanced at the screen.
“Everything okay?” Frankie asked.
“It’s Bridget. I should take this. Do you mind?”
“No. Go ahead.”
He tapped the screen. “Hi. Everything okay?” Pause. “Of course. No problem. Happy to.”
He rubbed his hand over his head, a gesture she’d seen him do before when she’d spied on him from her room in Silverstone, that first day she’d met him. He’d been on the phone then. Had it been to Bridget?
“Hey, buddy.” He smiled and his face softened. “Of course, you can say goodnight to me. Anytime you want to. Your mum has my number.” He reach
ed over the table and took Frankie’s hand in his free one.
She watched as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
“You’re a bit young for your own phone yet. But soon, in a few years. When it’s okay with your mum and Nic.”
Frankie could hear a childish voice on the other end of the line. Not loud enough to make out words, just enough to hear it was a kid.
“Yes, then you’ll be able to call me whenever you want to. As long as I’m not racing. It’s not good to talk on the phone and drive at the same time, is it?”
Frankie smiled and turned her attention to the menu. She was enjoying listening to Dean talk to Henri, and also his caresses on her hand.
“Yes, we can do that. Well, I’m not sure if Heinz would like it. What if he fell in?” Pause. “Well, okay, I know he can swim, and practice makes perfect, but—” He laughed. “Okay, okay, he can come, but I might bring a friend, too.”
Frankie glanced up at him.
“You’ll have to wait and see, Henri. Now be sure to pack everything you need, and before you ask, yes, it will be a picnic.” He smiled and listened to a reply. “I can hear your mum calling. Now be a good boy, go to sleep soon. Make sure Heinz goes to bed, too.” Pause. “On the end of your bed, does he? Yep, that’s cool with me if it’s okay with your mum. Love you, buddy. See you.”
He ended the call and slipped his phone away
“Henri?” Frankie asked.
“Yeah.”
There was something a bit different about Dean now he’d spoken to his son. Less intense, gooey almost. As if he’d melted a little.
“Is he okay?”
“Fine. He’s just going to bed. He likes to say goodnight to me.”
“Every night?”
“No, usually only when I’m in town, when we’ve spent time together like this. Then, when I’m away, the evening calls taper off pretty quickly.” Sadness crossed his eyes.
Frankie turned her hand over and took his within hers. She gave it a squeeze.
He sighed. “It’s as if he’s forgotten about me. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“He’s probably just protecting his little emotions. It’s hard to miss someone whatever age you are, but for a kid, it must be confusing.”
“I try to explain it. That I’m working. Getting money to give to his mum to look after him and all that.”
“And I’m sure he understands that.”
