by Misty Evans
God, she was beautiful. And smart. And amazing. The first person, besides Liam, to ever come to a track and cheer for him.
His heart gave a little squeeze. Sure, Westin and his crew were there, but they had to be. They had more riding on this than he did, and while he never wanted to let them down, his world would not end if he walked away from racing tomorrow. Van would still be there, even if he came in dead last and never raced again.
But he wasn’t going to come in with some sucky time. He was going to come in with the best time.
George Armenta is here, Westin had told him after he’d strapped in. He’s scouting drivers for a new formula team.
His dream. A dream he’d never pursue, but he owed it to himself to see how far he could go at this race. Eat your heart out, Armenta.
Alex’s foot bore down on the accelerator and he jockeyed around the car in front in him. The other end of the oval came up fast. The third warmup lap was done. Time to make this happen.
He didn’t look at the speedometer but felt the roar of the engine as he took the car over one-hundred miles per hour. This was what fed him. This speed, this control. As he scooted between two cars in the front, euphoria kicked in.
The same feeling he got when he made love to Van.
He rode the feeling like he rode the car, giving in to the speed and his instincts. Around and around he went in the pack, jockeying his car into third place by the fourth lap.
Not good enough.
Adjustments at this speed were tricky. A delicate hand was necessary. That’s what made him feel alive…risk shadowed every move, every shift. The speedometer topped one-twenty.
The finish line was coming up fast and only one car ahead of him. He felt the adrenaline take over. He had to be the first to cross that line and see the checkered flag fall.
His fingers tweaked the giant wing on top of the car, the hydraulics shifting it ever so slightly. Maybe if he broke the track record, Van would do that thing again with her mouth he loved.
One-twenty-five…one-thirty…the speedometer continued to creep up.
He blew past the competitor in front of him and across the finish line so fast, he didn’t even see the flag fall.
The next few minutes went by in the same blur. Before he’d come to a stop, his crew surrounded him, many hands helping him out as the rest of the cars crossed the finish line. The crowd cheered, his team shouted congrats to him, and his crew chief held up his fingers.
Alex had to remove his crash helmet to read them. He had to count again.
A one and a zero, made by Westin’s thumb and index finger. “Ten point two five,” he yelled over the noise of the crew and crowd.
Alex’s best record was ten point nine six. The track’s best super record was ten point eight four.
He hadn’t just won the race and beat the track record. He’d smashed it.
Raising his eyes, he found Van in the stands. She was jumping up and down, her breasts doing a dance Alex really enjoyed as she held up her sign. “That’s My Man” it read in neon purple letters. She pulled her shirt down low enough to flash him some cleavage and he laughed. His pen would be ready to autograph any body part she wanted. He waved to her and blew her a kiss.
A man in jeans and a NASCAR jacket crossed the now empty track and made his way to the pit. On his heels was a guy in a suit and a reporter with a cameraman. All around, drivers and their teams followed the guy with their eyes.
When he stopped in front of Alex’s car, Westin nearly saluted the man.
Alex nearly did too. George Armenta was a god in the world of Formula 1 racing. Since his retirement, he’d built three different teams over ten years and taken all three of his handpicked drivers from the tracks of Europe to Indy. Every one of them had placed in the top five.
Armenta reached out, shook Westin’s hand, and nodded at Alex. “So this is the guy you were telling me about.”
Westin winked at Alex’s look of surprise. “He doesn’t have as much experience as some of your drivers, Mr. Armenta, but he’s got gut instinct and cojones. You saw him. It wasn’t just about speed out there. He outmaneuvered his competition from the moment he took the track.”
The reporter stared openly at Alex, her gaze traveling the length of him and back up again. “You’re Alex McIntyre, aren’t you? The 3 Wishes guy?”
Uh, oh. She recognized him. His stomach cramped. “You familiar with 3 Wishes?”
“My cousin had a kid you guys helped. You do nice work.”
Overhead, the announcer’s voice called out the final times and places of the drivers. Alex’s name and winning time were announced, and he heard Van cheering over everyone else.
“Congratulations, son.” Armenta took a business card from his jacket pocket and handed it to Alex. “I’ve seen your stats and I like the raw talent you have. If you decide to get serious in the next few days, call my office. I’d like to talk to you about a Formula 2 team I’m building to take on the European circuit next year. But don’t wait too long to decide. I want this team up and running in the next month.”
Alex took the card. A sponsorship and professional racing crew? A stint in Europe handling an actual Formula car? He nearly stuttered. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Westin slapped him on the back. “He’ll be in L.A. next weekend for the final leg of this series.”
As Armenta turned away, the reporter stuck a microphone in his face and trailed beside him. “Have you found your next Indy driver, Mr. Armenta?”
The announcer spoke again, drowning out what George replied. “Would the winners please step to the podium?”
Alex’s crew manhandled him toward the grandstand. Alex glanced around. Where was Van?
There, he spotted her squeezing past a group of women gathered along the stair railing next to the grandstand. Their arms were outstretched, waving miniature flags and other items they wanted him to autograph. Van managed to get around them and head down the stairs. At the bottom, a security guard stopped her.
“It’s all right,” Alex called to the man. “She’s with me.”
As the guard let her pass, Alex held out his arms. Van smiled from ear to ear and ran to him, jumping into his embrace as he lifted her off the ground and swung her around.
“Oh, my God,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “That was amazing! You did it. You won!”
He kissed her on the lips. The adrenaline still pumped in his veins, happiness soaring along with the euphoria and making him want to undress her right there and plunge himself deep inside her.
She opened her lips and he plunged his tongue inside. Hers met his and they did a little dance.
Time stood still for a moment, his happiness and lust mixing with something else. A different kind of desire Alex has never felt before.
“Hey, man,” Westin said, grabbing Alex’s arm and breaking up the kiss. “The second and third place winners are waiting for you. Take the stage, Alex. Time to embrace the spotlight.”
Van released him, still smiling, but he didn’t want to be in the spotlight. Not without her.
He took her hand and dragged her up the steps.
“Alex,”—she tried to pull away—“what are you doing?”
Racing gave him purpose. Van gave him a new take on life. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here right now. You deserve this as much as I do.”
Against her protests, he brought her up on stage and accepted his trophy. He shook hands with the second and third place winners and waved at the cheering crowd. Then he lifted the trophy in one hand, and raised Van’s hand with the other. He could hear her soft laughter over the noise.
Camera’s snapped and the reporter appeared again, shouting questions at him. He lowered the trophy and murmured in Van’s ear, “You’d think I won Indy or something.”
She smiled up at him. “Next year.”
It was his turn to laugh. “Dream big?”
“Absolutely. Go big or go home, right?”
“You certa
inly went big, and I’m not talking about the race.”
She smacked his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her close. Go big or go home.
Bending her backwards, he parted her lips and kissed her to the cheers of the crowd.
Chapter Fourteen
“Wanna make out in the car like a couple of teenagers?” Alex winked as he reached for her. They sat in his parking spot, neither ready for the weekend to end.
Van giggled. She hadn’t felt this light and carefree in ages. If ever. She was always so busy planning her next goal that she never stopped to actually enjoy little moments in life.
With Alex, she had no choice. He was totally in the moment. “I think we’ve had quite enough public make out sessions. Don’t you?”
His gaze darkened and his grin turned wolfish. “Make out, yes, but we still haven’t christened this car.”
He leaned across the seat and nuzzled her neck. Van tilted her head to give him better access. He had this way of dismantling her best laid plans. Usually with a well-placed kiss or two. It was hardly fair.
He nipped just below her ear and she groaned. “Alex…?”
His hand slid up her thigh, shifting the material of her skirt. “Yes, Van.” His fingers teased the edge of her panties as he whispered, “I want to spend the next several hours thanking you properly for everything you did this weekend.”
She shivered. He’d already thanked her. Oh, how he’d thanked her. Over and over and over again. All it took was a look and she was panting and her body was ready for him. One touch and she was ready to beg.
And if she dared hold out on the begging, he had ways of making her pay. He’d draw out the pleasure until she was a whimpering mess before he let her come. “And how do you want to thank me this time?”
He inhaled at her neck deeply. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough. “I’m thinking up a number of ways. “
Needing to make him every bit as desperate as she felt, she reached over the console and palmed him through his jeans. “Maybe I want to thank you too.”
She stroked him and his hips jerked into the caress. “Fuck…yes…thank me…”
He covered her hand with his and met her gaze. The intensity she saw there scared her. She knew in that moment that there would be no easy extrication later. She would get hurt.
She slid her glance from his and tried to remove her hand, but he held her to him. “Look at me.”
She didn’t. “Let’s go inside.” She needed a moment to compose herself. Get her emotions in check.
“Look. At. Me.”
She snapped her gaze to his, feeling mutinous. “What?”
Alex teased a thumb under the elastic of her panties and she sucked in a shuddering breath. “You’re freaking out on me.” He kissed her lips softly. “I can see it in your eyes. Pulling away. Why?”
She sighed, then arched into his caress. “I’m sorry. Like I told you, I’m sort of new to the serious relationship thing.” She swallowed hard and opted for some truth. “I’m not used to letting people get close. It scares me.”
His eyes softened, his fingers dipping under her underwear and teasing at her folds. “That’s the thing about boyfriends, they’re supposed to get close.” He lowered his voice. “Very close.”
She liked the way that sounded. This weekend had been perfect. For once she’d put fun first. She hadn’t spent half the weekend working and actually got to seen sunshine. Maybe just maybe, he was good for her. She could still be driven and let someone care about her. Those two things weren’t mutually exclusive.
Thumb driving her clit crazy, he slipped a finger inside her, moaning as her muscles clamped around him.
Behind them, bright headlights illuminated the interior as another car whizzed by. Alex made a sound that was between laugh and a groan. But when he tried to pull his fingers away, she held his wrist still. “What does my boyfriend say about getting me into the house so he can show me just how grateful he is?”
“He is so totally down for that. Your place or mine.”
They’d spent a lot of time at hers. He probably wanted to get something ready for work. But she needed to grab her laptop and some clothes first. “Mine. Then yours.”
“I like how you think.” Leaving their bags in the car, he let her out, then picked her up threshold style as he kissed her deeply.
Van ran her hands through his hair, kissing him back. On her doorstep, Alex put her down so she could fish her keys out of her purse. When she started to turn around to let him in, he stopped her, propping her hands on the door as his found their way under her skirt again.
He leaned over her body, and she could feel the hard ridge of his erection rubbing against her ass. “When it’s a little bit darker and the street is deserted, one night, I’m going to take you just like this out here.” He nipped at the nape of her neck and she shuddered.
She’d never been so wild and reckless in her life. “What’s wrong with right now?”
“Jesus, Van. Don’t tempt me.”
“Spoilsport.” She turned the lock and Alex rushed them inside, slamming the door behind them. In a flash, he had her up against the door.
“I’m going to fuck you slow like I’ve been thinking about the last forty miles or so,” he whispered in her ear.
Van grinned up at him. “Talk is cheap, McIntyre.”
“If you two don’t mind, I already caught the earlier showing.”
With his lightning quick reflexes, Alex whirled, keeping himself between her and the intruder.
Except, it wasn’t an intruder; she recognized that voice.
“Alex, stop. It’s okay.” Heart hammering—what is he doing here?—she tried to move Alex aside, but he didn’t budge. Finally she stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. “Hi, Dad.”
Alex faced her, his skin going a deep shade of red. “Da—?” He shook his head, then she could almost see him putting his Alex-I’m-A-Boy-Scout persona on.
Alex hit the lights next to the door and the living room flooded with light. Her father stood next to her coffee table, arms crossed, a deep frown etched in his austere face. “Mr. Rodriquez. Sorry. I—uh—we didn’t—” Eventually, he just took a deep breath and walked forward, hand outstretched. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Oh hell, this wasn’t going to end well. Van rushed forward. Although, on second thought, she probably should have opened the door again to give Alex a better chance at escape. “Daddy, what are you doing here? How did you get in?” If there were was ever a wrong choice of words.
The major merely glared at Alex with a raised eyebrow.
Alex, forever optimistic, kept his hand out. Poor thing, He thought he could charm his way into her father’s good graces.
She stared at his right hand and had a moment of fright…was that the same hand he’d strategically placed in her…No. God, no. That had been his other hand.
She nearly caved with relief.
“I have a key, Vanessa.” Her father looked down his nose. “Do you want to tell me who the hell he thinks he is putting his hands all over my daughter?”
Oh shit. It was worse than she’d thought. He wasn’t just going to kill Alex, he was going to chop up the body and use it for bait. “Uh, this is my….uh….next door neighbor, Alex.”
She tried not to wince as Alex’s brows drew down slightly. She would have to explain later. Right now, she needed to get Alex to safety.
Boy Scout Alex didn’t know when to fold his cards. “I’m Alex McIntyre, Mr. Rodriquez. Van’s boyfriend. Sorry about our inauspicious entry just now. We, uh, thought we were alone.”
The major’s brows rose, then dipped, his glare hot enough to melt the polar ice caps.
Damn it, did he have to say that word? There was no way her father was going to understand. Keep your mouth shut, Alex.
Her father handed Alex a metaphorical shovel to keep digging. “Major.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s major, son.�
� The glare went DEFCON. “So if I hadn’t been here, you would have been defiling my baby in her front hall? Or would the two of you have moved upstairs? I know you young people are into all sorts of things now, so would you have made another public display of her like you did on television?”
Alex dropped his hand and sputtered.
Van’s stomach dropped to her feet. Of all the disastrous ways for this night to end, this was not one she would have ever imagined. “Daddy, what are you talking about?”
His dark chocolate eyes turned her way. “It’s the reason I’m here. To ask you what you were doing on TV letting this boy maul you in front of all of America.”
Alex still didn’t know when to quit. “Sir, er, Major, I promise you, I have nothing but the utmost respect for your daughter.”
She had to stop this from happening. Sliding between the two of them, she put her hand on Alex’s stone-hard chest. “Daddy, Alex was just leaving.”
She slid him a look, silently pleading him to just listen to her. His eyes went flat and hard. He most certainly did not understand. “Wait… You want me to go?”
“Yes. Please go.”
“But—”
“No, buts. We had a great time.” She ushered him toward the door. There, she pushed him across the threshold and whispered, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. Not…now. Please go.”
“When will I see you?”
“I don’t know.” She bit her bottom lip, forcefully stopped herself. How could you save a man who didn’t want to be saved? “It’s gonna be a while.”
He blinked in surprise as she closed the door in his face.
Yeah, she’d explain it to him later if he ever decided to talk to her again. But she didn’t have time to deal with him right now. She had to deal with her father.
“Okay, Daddy. Do you want to tell me what you’re talking about and why you embarrassed me just now?”
“I embarrassed you?” He blustered. “I’m the one who had to endure images of you making out with that boy on television.”
“The race was televised?”
“Instead of focusing on work and your goals, you were at that race, doing what? Being his pit crew? Vanessa, your mother and I didn’t push you all your life for you to throw it away. Imagine how embarrassed I am to come to San Diego for a meeting at Miramar and see a video of my daughter with some boy’s tongue down her throat. He’s lucky to be alive.”