The Full Velocity Series Box Set

by Tracie Delaney

  I nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s great to be here.”

  Lewis shook my hand also. It was going to be an interesting dynamic between the two of us, especially as this was his last season. We entered the garage, and I spotted Devon, my engineer, and Angus, my lead mechanic. I’d met them both when I’d signed my contract and I liked them enormously. Just as well. Apart from Jack, they were the most important members of my team. One tiny mistake, one false move by a member of the pit crew, and I could find myself heading for a wall at two hundred miles an hour. These guys were there to make sure that didn’t happen.

  I spent a few minutes chatting, then strolled over to the changing area at the back of the garage to swap my normal clothes for my race suit. A heavy day of testing lay ahead, and later on, Jack had arranged a press conference where I’d be formally introduced as the new driver for Nash Racing. The news had broken before the ink had dried on the contract, but this was my official unveiling. The press part was the one bit I hated about my job, but unfortunately, a necessary evil.

  I reentered the garage. The rest of the crew had arrived, and excitement sizzled in the air, everyone amped and more than ready to get back to work after their winter break. We only had a few short weeks until the entire team relocated to Australia for the first race in early March. We had a lot to get through between now and then, not least the small problem of getting the rookie—namely me—up to speed damn quick. My initiation wouldn’t only involve racing on the track. I’d have to spend hours in the simulator nailing every twist and turn of the twenty-one circuits I needed to master.

  I walked over to the car and trailed my fingers over the paintwork. The old familiar excitement began to build. I loved racing. Being so close to possible death was when I felt most alive.

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” Devon said.

  I straightened. “She is. I can’t wait to get started.”

  “The team has built a fantastic car this season. Now it’s up to you to see if you can take full advantage of it.”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No offense meant, mate,” Devon said. “But Formula One is a lot different to IndyCar. It takes a special kind of discipline to succeed, and you’re going to need to work harder than the rest to prove yourself out there on the track.”

  I bristled at the inference. “I think you’ll find I’m up to the challenge.” I refrained from adding that I’d spent my whole life clawing my way up the ladder of success and proving my worth of a place at the top. Racing in Formula One wouldn’t be any different.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Devon said, backtracking as he caught the indignation in my tone. “You were born to race cars. You take risks, but they’re calculated. You’re brave, fearless, and one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever seen. But you know as well as I do that a lot of drivers who’ve achieved great things in IndyCar struggle to make the transition to F1. All I’m saying is that it won’t be easy.”

  “I never thought for a second it would be,” I said. “But underestimating me isn’t the smartest move either.”

  Before Devon and I could continue our heated exchange, Jack called us over. He briefed everyone on what he wanted to achieve today. His expectations were high, which worked for me. I was at my best when set near impossible challenges. They spurred me on to even greater achievement. And the conversation with Devon made me determined to watch him eat his words.

  I grabbed my helmet, about to pull it over my head, when my gaze fell on the person who’d just entered the garage. I froze.

  Fuck. It’s her. My little pixie.

  “Paisley,” Jack shouted from behind me. “Where’d you get to, sweetheart?” He strode toward her and slung an arm around her shoulder.

  Irritation flashed across her face, and she shrugged him off, putting some distance between them. “Dad, we’ve spoken about this.”

  Dad? Fucking hell. My secret kisser is Jack Nash’s daughter? The little minx kept that to herself when she planted one on me and let me tend to her wounds.

  Her aqua gaze met mine, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. I clenched my jaw, my eyes hardening as they locked on to hers. She blushed and ducked her head, her embarrassment at her duplicity evident. Had she known my identity when she’d kissed me? What game was she playing?

  One thing was certain: a quick fuck wouldn’t be happening now, no matter how much my dick disagreed. I didn’t ‘do’ rich girls. I preferred my own kind, women who knew exactly who they were and where they’d come from, although these days I found it difficult to work out who was interested in me for me, and who just wanted a piece of the lifestyle I could provide. Not that I blamed them. When you’d grown up dirt poor and stick-out-rib hungry, the idea of never having to worry about finding money for food again was a hell of a draw.

  Which was precisely why I stuck to brief flings and one-night stands without any attachments. Girls like Dara and Georgina who knew the score and were perfectly happy with the arrangement.

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” Jack said, drawing an eye roll from his daughter. “Come and meet Jared.”

  I wondered if she’d fess up to Jack that we’d already met, not to mention kissed. I curved an eyebrow and dampened my lips. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and her blush spread.

  “Jared, this is my amazing, beautiful, talented daughter, Paisley.”

  Amazing, beautiful, talented? How about privileged, spoiled, vacuous, like every single rich girl I’ve ever met who’d grown up with Daddy’s billions at their disposal. Who didn’t have a clue what it felt like to go to bed hungry, knowing the next day would only bring a repeat performance.

  Time to have a little fun, see what she was made of. I pasted on a fake smile. “Hi, Paisley.” I stuck out a hand. “You look real familiar. Have we met before?”

  She gave me a hard glare that spoke volumes. Ah, Princess Paisley didn’t want to confess to Daddy that she went around kissing strangers who turned out to be his employees.

  “I don’t think so,” she murmured.

  Jack gazed down at her with something close to adoration. I inwardly groaned. Something told me that she’d be hanging around the track a lot. Well, as long as she stayed out of my way... I didn’t need the spoiled little brat fawning over me every five seconds.

  “I’m very proud of my daughter, Jared. She’s plucky, tenacious, dauntless, not to mention a damn fine mechanic. You’re lucky to have her working as part of your crew.”

  I widened my eyes. You have got to be kidding me. A fucking mechanic? No, no. Strike that. My fucking mechanic. My surprise must have shown, because she kicked up her chin in defiance. I met her gaze and, despite my chagrin at this shitstorm of a situation, my cock hardened.

  Down, boy. We’re not getting acquainted with this dangerous piece of ass. No fucking way.

  “I’ll leave you two to chat,” Jack said, wandering off.

  I stared down at her. “You’re a mechanic?” I said, trying, and failing, to keep the wonder out of my tone.

  She gave a curt nod. “Recently qualified.”

  “Wow, and your first job is working for a top F1 team,” I bit out, sarcasm dripping from my tone. “I guess success really does depend on who you know.”

  Her eyes flashed like a brief but powerful lightning strike, hitting me square in the chest.

  She curled her lip in a half sneer. “Don’t worry, Jared. Angus will be responsible for making sure I tighten all the nuts and bolts. Wouldn’t want you hitting the wall and damaging that pretty face, now, would we?”

  She stomped past me, snatched a backpack off the floor, and disappeared into the back of the garage.

  The girl had fire and spunk, I’d give her that, but I couldn’t deny my irritation at having to suffer her on my crew. Statistics showed that a rookie mechanic was far more likely to make a mistake than an experienced one. Well, I wouldn’t be cutting her any slack, no matter who her daddy was. If she fucked up, she’d be off the team so fast her head would spin. N
o one—not even the boss’s daughter—would get in the way of my ambitions.

  “She’s a good girl,” Angus said, joining me.

  I tore my gaze away from the direction Paisley had stomped off in. “I’m sure she is,” I said, resisting the urge to fix my junk.

  “She’s like family to us. And like most families, we’re very protective of her.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your point, Angus?”

  “Lots of fish in the sea for a red-blooded man like you. Just don’t cast your line in Paisley’s direction.”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “You’re way off the mark, buddy. The only interest I have in that girl is concern about her fucking up on my watch.” I gave him a sly smile. “And that’s where you come in.”

  Angus grinned and clapped me on the arm. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

  I shoved all thoughts of Paisley—and Angus’s needless warning—from my mind and put on my helmet. I pulled gloves over fingers that were tingling, a sure sign I was excited and fired up. I held on to the outer rim of the cockpit and slid into the seat. It had been made specially for me and fit like a second skin. Devon affixed the steering wheel. He talked into his headset to test the comms. I gave him the thumbs-up to show I could hear him loud and clear. Angus started the engine, and the seat beneath me vibrated. My heart rate spiked as the power of the engine rumbled through my body.

  As I eased the car forward, I noticed Paisley standing off to my left. She’d changed out of the pink shorts and white T-shirt she’d been wearing earlier, swapping them for a race suit, same as me and the rest of the crew. Except, holy hell, the girl rocked that suit far better than her male counterparts.

  She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and watched me pull forward. With a sudden urge to cool the tension between us, I stuck up my thumb.

  She stuck up her middle finger.

  I should have been offended. Instead, I started to laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Devon asked in my ear.

  I drove into the pit lane. “Just excited to be back behind the wheel,” I said. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve given me.”

  Paisley

  I watched my dad and Jared sit behind the table draped in a banner displaying Nash Racing colors of navy and red, ready to formally announce him as the new driver. Of course, everyone already knew Dad had hired him, but this served as the official press junket.

  He’d changed back into the clothes he’d been wearing this morning, although he’d added a Nash Racing jacket on top of his black T-shirt. Tendrils of damp hair curled over his nape, a legacy from the shower, and a few strands stuck out at odd angles. His long, tanned fingers wrapped around a glass of water. He lifted the glass to his lips and sipped. My eyes fell to his throat, watching as he swallowed, and my belly clenched.

  Although utterly mortified I’d kissed our new driver before I knew who he was, what really pissed me off was his reaction when he found out I was a mechanic. I mean, talk about an attitude from the bloody Dark Ages. There were plenty of women in this sport, albeit we needed to work twice as hard as the guys to keep our place. Still, when he’d stuck up his thumb in an obvious attempt at conciliation, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I had. Way to go, Paise. Really mature. Unless I reined in my temper, I’d have a difficult time proving I wasn’t a child.

  I’d tried hard to avoid him today. That strategy wouldn’t work for very long, but if I could put off the inevitable apology until tomorrow, I’d take it. After a long day, I felt tired and cranky, and not in the best frame of mind to admit my bad behavior.

  I was half tempted to go back to our villa, but Dad would expect me to wait for him, and I couldn’t face the questions that would follow a change of routine. I always waited for Dad. Besides, I was a terrible liar, especially to my father. Dad had mastered the ability to see straight through me years ago.

  Now that I’d spent the day observing Jared out there on the track, I understood exactly why Dad had been determined to lock him into a two-year contract with the option for a third. Jared Kane wasn’t just a gorgeous specimen—he was a fucking god behind the wheel. I’d seen a lot of drivers come and go over the years, and Jared was the real deal. No doubt in a year or two, once he’d come to grips with the car and the numerous challenging circuits, he’d be World Champion.

  Dad tapped the microphone, and the room fell silent. My eyes were automatically drawn to Jared. I barely listened as Dad went through his spiel, but when Jared’s turn to speak arrived, my ears pricked up.

  “Firstly, I’d like to thank Jack and his team for taking a chance on me. It’s a risk on their part, but their belief in me and my ability to transition from IndyCar to Formula One is humbling. I’m honored to be joining them, to become a part of one of the most prestigious teams in the history of this glorious motorsport. I plan to do justice to the faith they’ve shown in me and pay them back by winning.”

  His deep timbre rumbled through his chest, and that American drawl, almost lazy in its delivery, was like listening to my favorite chillout playlist while enjoying a glass of ice-cold white wine. Jared Kane could read a car manual to me and I’d hang on to his every word.

  The press conference only lasted about fifteen minutes. Dad appeared ‘behind the scenes’ where I loitered by the exit, anxious to get going. Jared followed right behind him. I avoided eye contact, relieved when Dad slung an arm around my shoulder.

  “Ready to go home, Princess?”

  I cringed, while Jared sniggered. Evidently, training Dad would take time and patience. I glared at Jared, then nodded at Dad. “I am, Pops.”

  Dad pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “See you tomorrow, Jared. Good work today.”

  “Thanks, Jack.” A pause. “Bye, Paisley.”

  I muttered something unintelligible and tried to hurry Dad along. I’d almost succeeded. Then bloody Devon appeared from my right.

  “Got a minute, Jack?” He flashed me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Paise. I know it’s been a long day. I’ll only steal him for a minute.”

  I really wanted to say, “Thanks a fucking bunch, mate,” but instead I responded with, “No problem. I’ll wait for you in the car park, Pops.”

  I walked off, Jared’s stare burning into the back of my neck, and I knew, I just knew, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to me. Call it women’s intuition. Precisely what he wanted to talk about, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, I’d already decided to try to outrun him.

  I lengthened my stride, tamping down the urge to sprint.

  “Paisley,” Jared called out.

  I ignored him, walking even faster, right on the edge of a run.

  He caught up to me, barring my way. “I want to talk to you.”

  I tried to appear nonchalant. “About what?” I asked, frowning.

  He cocked his head, indicating for me to follow him, and strolled over to a quiet corner. I sighed. That damn apology was going to have to be today after all.

  What I wouldn’t give for a large glass of wine right now. Alcohol married beautifully with humble pie. I decided attack was the best form of defense.

  “If this is about the one-fingered salute, I’m sorry, okay. But the way you looked at me when Dad told you I’m a mechanic… It pissed me off. It’s hard enough being a woman in this business, and not least because I’ve grown up around a lot of chauvinistic men who think I’d be better off fixing my hair than fixing an engine. I’m trying to prove myself here, and I don’t need your condescending attitude. I’m a bloody good mechanic, and with Angus’s tutelage, I’ll make a great mechanic. So all I ask is that you give me a chance to at least fuck up before you decide I’m shit at my job.”

  His lips curved to the side in what I’d begun to recognize as a trademark smirk. “Have you finished?”

  I shrugged, fiddling with a loose piece of cotton on my T-shirt. “I suppose so.”

  “Thanks for the apology, as forced as it clearly was, but that isn’t why I wa
nted to speak to you.”

  I lifted my chin. “Oh? Then what’s up?”

  “You should’ve told me who you were.”

  I bristled at his tone. “I’d just fallen over, cut my knee, bruised my pride, and kissed a stranger. Introducing myself wasn’t at the front of my mind. Besides, until you told me your name, I didn’t have a clue who you were either.”

  His forehead creased. “What do you mean you didn’t know my name?”

  I smirked. “Sorry if I’ve damaged your ego.”

  “Are you?”

  “Not really.”

  He laughed. “Why am I not surprised.”

  I squinted at him, confused about where this was going. “What do you want, Jared?”

  “To set the record straight.”

  “What record?”

  “The one where I tell you that I’m flattered and all, but that A, I work for your father, and B, I don’t date rich girls. So whatever you were hoping might happen between us, it’s not going to. However, as we have to work together, I’m willing to ignore your obvious crush on me for the sake of the team. Rephrased, let’s forget you ever kissed me and just focus on the job in hand. Okay?”

  I almost choked. What an utter arrogant and presumptuous arsehole. I stood there, mouth agape as I tried to come up with a suitable retort along the lines of… He’d imagined it all, and I wasn’t remotely attracted to him. Lies, of course, but he wouldn’t know that.

  Instead of an instant rebuttal, what fell out of my stupid, dumb mouth was, “Why don’t you date rich girls?”

  I inwardly groaned. Dammit, Paisley. You’ve just confirmed what he already suspected.

  He hitched a shoulder. “In my experience, they’re vacuous, empty-headed, self-absorbed, and spoiled.”

  Wow…

  “And that’s what you think I am?”

  Another shrug. “Haven’t met one yet who didn’t prove me wrong.”

  Outraged, I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him. “You don’t even know me, and yet you stand there, judging. Who the fuck do you think you are?”