Things were obviously hectic in the office, because they put her on hold for long moments. By the time everything was taken care of, it was nearly six-thirty.
Liz was late and only hoped Rick had been on time. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night at the Mexican restaurant, but Mack said he’d see that he got there…and wore a tux.
As she stepped off the elevator, she knew she need not have worried.
The huge crowd in front of the hotel told the story.
She managed to make her way through, and the sight of Rick in a tux took her breath away. James Bond, eat your heart out.
And, of course, there was a bevy of women gathered around. From the heavy makeup they were wearing, Liz was impressed to realize some of them had to be showgirls, stopping by before show time.
“How’s it going?” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in Rick’s ear when she managed to reach him. Some of the women were glaring, but Liz didn’t care. After all, Rick was her driver. Maybe he couldn’t stand having her around, but, in a professional way, he was hers.
“Going fine,” he said, scribbling his name on a glossy photo and handing it to someone, then taking another to do it again. “Where have you been? How come you get out of standing here in this heat?”
“I got tied up with track PR over VIP passes. But everything worked out all right.”
“So now you can stand here and sweat.”
“Actually, I can’t. I have to greet the guests and make sure things are running smoothly inside.”
“And how much longer do I have to stay?”
“I’d say about another half hour. See you inside.”
The truth was, he loved meeting his fans. Loved meeting people, actually. And he was still flattered, even after years of being somewhat of a star on the short track circuit, that people would stand in line for his autograph.
But Liz did not need to know that. Let her think him crabby and hard to get along with, and maybe she would continue to keep her distance. He was pleased it was working so far, because she didn’t hang around as much as she used to.
“Oh, I almost forgot.”
She was beside him again, and this time the crowd gave a sudden surge that pressed her against him. He liked the feeling but didn’t look at her. “What is it now?”
“Where did you qualify today? I asked when I called the track, but they didn’t have the final lineup yet, and I haven’t seen Mack or any of the others.”
“Sixth,” he said matter-of-factly, though he was proud to bursting.
Liz was thrilled. “That’s wonderful. But what about Jack Blevins? Where does he start?”
“Somewhere behind me,” Rick said curtly. “That’s all I care about.”
Liz was glad he spoke in a near whisper, so his fans wouldn’t hear how grumpy he sounded. At least he kept a smile pasted on his face.
Mack was right. Rick was stressed-out, which was bad so early in the season. As his PR person, she felt it was part of her job to do something about it. But there was no time to think about it right then as a limo pulled up to the curb.
“Show time,” she said merrily, giving Rick’s shoulder a friendly pat. “See you in a little bit.”
Where she had touched him felt like hot needles stabbing his flesh, and he gritted his teeth. Lord, he wished he could have turned and swept her into his arms. But he could only stand there, smiling and making small talk as he signed one autograph after another.
Liz enjoyed spreading the word about Rick’s wonderful qualifying run.
Gary Staley was thrilled. “This is real good exposure, Liz. Can you put a spin on it?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured. “It’s the third race of the year, and the third time he’s been the fastest-qualifying rookie. I’ll have a sidebar e-mailed to all media by tomorrow morning.”
Beside him, Gary’s wife, Ida, told Liz they couldn’t be happier with the publicity the team was getting. “And you’ve done a wonderful job here tonight. I’m just sorry Gary didn’t give you more notice.”
“Not a problem,” Liz said, thinking how she could count on one hand the number of hours of sleep she’d had since arriving in Las Vegas.
“Rick is so handsome,” Ida exuded. “Why, my teenage daughters have crushes you wouldn’t believe. And he’s so nice, too. He seems to really enjoy his fans. Is he fun to work with?”
Ida and Gary both stared at her expectantly.
How easy it would have been to tell the truth—that Rick was fun for everybody to work with except her and that he despised her and would like nothing better than to have her replaced.
But Liz was proud she was able to say all the right things and not give anything away.
She was also full to bursting with joy to think how, even in the face of Rick’s animosity, she had succeeded in doing a laudable job.
That meant she’d kept her promise to herself that no man would ever stand in the way of her career again.
She only wished she’d kept her vow not to fall for one, either.
The next hour she stayed busy introducing people and getting them to their seats and taking care of dozens of other little details.
Then it was time for the head table to be presented—Gary and his family, along with some city dignitaries Liz had managed to persuade to come. Like the mayor and his wife. She was especially thrilled over that. And she had invited some of the track officials, as well.
Gary, seated at the center of the head table, waved her over. She worried to see he looked annoyed.
“Where’s Rick? He’s supposed to sit next to me. The salads are being served. It doesn’t look good that he’s not here. He can’t stay out there all night no matter how long the line is.”
“I’ll check.”
And she rushed to do so, surprised to see that the crowd around Rick had grown larger, the line longer.
She began to push her way toward him again, only this time it was not so easy.
“Hey, wait your turn,” a woman yelled. “Who do you think you are?”
And another chortled, “Yeah, get back in line and wait like the rest of us. I’ve been here twenty minutes, and you aren’t getting in front of me.”
Liz stood on tiptoe, craning to see above the heads in front of her. She saw Rick…saw that he was smiling and appeared to be enjoying himself and found that quite puzzling. She would have thought by now he’d look a little bit harried, at least.
She called to him.
At first he didn’t hear, so she called louder, and, at last, he glanced up.
“You have to come inside now. Dinner is being served.”
A groan went up from the crowd, and Liz cringed to see the angry faces turned in her direction.
“Sorry,” she said in a small voice, backing away. “But we’ve got lots of pictures in the lobby. You can each have one…”
Rick’s hand closed around her arm. “Let’s go before they start throwing rocks.”
Liz had to struggle to keep up with him. Her dress was very tight around her ankles, except for a slit on one side, and it was hard to match his long strides.
“Can you slow down?”
“Not yet.”
He waited till they were in the lobby, then irritably accused, “You should’ve come out there long before now. I couldn’t get away.”
She was tired and not in a mood for him to light into her about anything. Other times, she could handle it, but not this night. “Listen, it’s not my job to baby-sit you, Rick. You’ve got a watch. You knew what time it was. You could have torn yourself away. So don’t blame me.”
“Oh, yeah?” His hands were on his hips, feet slightly apart as he glared down at her. He was careful to keep his voice low, as the lobby was crowded. “And how would that have looked? For me to just say ‘Hey, this is it. Gotta go.’ I think it was your job to come get me.”
“Well, this isn’t the first time you’ve been confused about my job, is it? Now are you coming with me or do you plan to stay here and pout all nigh
t because I took you away from your moment of glory?”
“Moment…of…glory?” he echoed, stunned. “That stuff doesn’t mean anything to me. I want my glory on the track, lady, not signing autographs.”
“Tell it to somebody who cares,” she snapped, and walked away. He could find his own way to his seat. She’d had it.
For a moment, Rick could only stand there and look at her. Man, she filled out that dress in all the right places, and what a dress it was, too. Tight, green sequins, thin spaghetti straps, the bodice dipping low enough to show she had plenty but not enough to be overly provocative.
He liked the slit in the skirt, too, giving a nice flash of leg.
And her hair. All red and gold piled on top of her head with sassy little tendrils curling around her face.
A young man wearing a racing jacket with Rick’s car number on it, saw him and cried, “Hey, you’re the man. Gimme an autograph.”
Even with him still several feet away, Rick knew he’d had one too many and wasn’t about to get tied up with him. He was late enough as it was.
“Later,” he said, waving jovially and hurrying toward the doors to the ballroom.
Glancing around, he was impressed with the decor. He was also flattered by how people, as they noticed his arrival, stood to applaud. But it kept him from seeing where he was supposed to go, and he silently cursed Liz for walking off and leaving him.
“Rick, up here.”
He turned toward the voice and saw Gary Staley waving from the head table, which was on a level higher than the rest of the room.
Rick, nodding, waving and shaking hands, worked his way there.
The applause was thundering as he mounted the steps. Liz was standing at the bottom, smiling sweetly and waving him on up. He hoped she caught the quick glance of anger he shot in her direction.
Finally seated between Gary and his wife, Rick spent the next hour or so in polite conversation, hoping he was doing and saying the right things.
Finally dinner was over. Waiters were quickly clearing away tables for dancing.
Liz walked up to the head table to ask if they needed anything.
“Yes. As a matter of fact, we do,” Gary said, leaning back in his chair, eyes shining from one too many glasses of champagne. “I’d like to see my driver and my PR representative lead off the first dance.”
Liz felt as if the air had suddenly been pulled from her lungs. The last thing she wanted was to dance with Rick. If he held her in his arms, he might hear the frantic pounding of her heart.
“Uh, I’m not a very good dancer,” she hedged.
Rick spoke up, “I’m not, either.”
“Oh, nonsense.” Gary motioned them toward the floor. “Anybody can slow-dance. Come on. Get out there.”
He reached for the microphone, which was still hooked up. He’d made a welcoming speech, toasted Rick and had the whole team stand from where they were seated at a table together on the floor. Now Gary used the mike to boom out the question, “Hey, does everybody here want to see your driver and your PR rep get things going?”
A roar of approval went up. Liz had endeared herself to everyone, personally greeting them, stopping by each and every table during the evening to see if there was anything they needed…anything she could do for them. A few knew her from Daytona and considered her an old friend. And, in awe over their favorite driver, nothing would please them more than to see the two dancing.
“Get us out of this,” Rick whispered in her ear.
“I wish I could,” she whispered back.
“Come on, come on,” Gary continued, waving them on as everyone cheered and clapped. “Ida and I will break in after a few minutes and then everyone else will get up and dance.”
“Let’s count on that,” Rick said, taking Liz’s hand and leading the way.
“Hey, I don’t like this any more than you do, but let’s make the best of it.”
He led her all the way to the center of the room in hopes no one could see the annoyance surely mirrored on his face.
He put a hand on her waist and clasped her other.
Liz raised her arm to rest her hand lightly on his shoulder.
She wondered if he had felt the involuntary shudder that jolted through her as she stepped into the circle of his embrace.
Their faces were mere inches apart. She could smell the lemony spice of his aftershave, could see the thick curl of the lashes fringing incredible coffee-colored eyes.
He was so tall, so strong, and she felt in that moment that as long as his arms were about her nothing could ever hurt her again.
Get a grip, girl, she commanded herself, forcing her face to turn from his. If you start shaking, he’s going to know it’s not with annoyance, not when your heart is racing like an engine.
“You dance real well,” he said grudgingly, feeling the need to make conversation.
“Thanks. So do you.” She kept her head turned so as to not look at him. Besides, it was terribly unnerving to have her lips so close to his.
“I could strangle Gary. I don’t like being the center of attention.”
At that, Liz couldn’t help but giggle. “Oh, yeah, right. That’s why you bust your butt to win a race so you can stand in front of the TV cameras in victory lane for all the world to see. Tell me another one, Castles. You love the limelight, and you know it.”
“Hey, that doesn’t have anything to do with it. I race to win, sure. But I don’t give a damn about the glory that goes with it.”
Even though he was angry, Liz noticed how he still held her with great tenderness. They were moving fluidly to the music, all eyes upon them. She wished Gary and his wife would cut in and glanced at their table as Rick turned her in that direction. They were both in animated conversation with other guests, apparently having forgotten the plan.
“I think we’re stuck with each other till the music ends,” Liz said, trying to sound glum while hoping all the while the band never stopped playing. He might be annoyed with her, like always, but she was secretly reveling in the moment.
“Might’ve known,” he murmured, giving her an extra strong whirl, arm tightening.
She knew the movement came from his resentment but enjoyed it just the same. “Relax. It’ll be over soon. Just keep smiling and act like you’re having a good time.”
“I’ve got too much on my mind to have a good time.”
“Like what? If there’s anything I can help with, tell me. That’s what I’m here for.”
“You can’t drive the race car, Liz, and that’s what I’m here to do.”
Liz seized the opportunity to ask, “What’s got you so stressed, Rick? I mean, it’s only the third race of the season. If you’re this uptight now, I hate to think what it will be like down the road.”
He was not about to admit she was the cause, but before he could frame an answer, she cocked her head to one side, looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Is it me? Because if it is, I’ll try to stay out of your way even more than I’ve been doing. But I’m not quitting, Rick. This job means everything to me right now, and I’m not going to let you ruin it for me.”
He looked everywhere but at her, because he wanted so damn bad to kiss her. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just tired, that’s all. Easter isn’t far off. I can take a mini-vacation then.”
“Can’t you take a few days off before the Atlanta race next weekend?”
“I probably could. But I won’t. There’s nowhere to go on short notice. I’d hoped to take some time off while we were out here and go exploring in the desert, but not a chance.” He gave himself a mental shake. He was being too chatty, telling her too much, getting close, and he couldn’t let that happen. To counter, he all but snapped, “Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m doing great. I plan to do even greater Sunday.”
“Well, I certainly hope so.”
After a few moments of silence, he could not resist teasing, “By the way, are you riding back to Charlotte with Benny?”
She squeezed his hand—hard. “Not funny.”
He squeezed back—harder. “I think it is.”
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you? Not letting me know Bobby wasn’t able to go and how obnoxious Benny can be.”
“Well, you have to admit it was an adventure.”
They were looking at each other, about to burst into laughter.
Liz could not stay mad about the trip, despite how grueling it had been, because she got a great story out of it.
And Rick had to admit that despite how he’d tried in so many ways to annoy, she was a good sport.
But neither wanted the intimate moment of camaraderie.
“Enough of this.” He took her hand and abruptly led her from the dance floor and straight over to Gary and his wife. Releasing Liz, he gave an exaggerated bow to Ida and said, “I believe you promised to cut in on me, ma’am, but since you forgot I’m not letting you get out of this dance.”
Ida laughed and all but flew into his arms.
Gary, apologizing, bounded to his feet and led Liz back onto the floor. “I got lost talking racing. This is all still new to me, but I do love it.”
“I’m glad,” Liz said pleasantly. She liked Gary. He was very easygoing and nice to work with.
His brow furrowed as he said, “Tell me. How’s he really doing? Do you think he’s got a chance to win the rookie title?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m probably newer to racing than you are. But I’d say he’s got a good shot. He’s a terrific driver. Everybody says so. It’s really too early in the season, though, to make any predictions.”
“My accountant has been making noises about the money we’re spending. So I thought I’d send him to the Darlington race in South Carolina in a few weeks. I want you to show him around, and while you’re doing it, make sure he sees how some of the bigger teams are millions of dollars ahead of us when it comes to spending money.”
“That won’t be hard to do,” she said, and laughed. “All I have to do is take him around top drivers like Jeff Gordon and Dale Jarrett and let him see their equipment. Makes ours pale by comparison.”
Race To The Altar Page 13