Winning It All

by Wendy Etherington

  He said nothing for a long moment. “The fact that I want to sleep with you made you faint?”

  “No, the fact that I want to.”

  “Ah.” His eyes brightened suddenly. “You do want to?”

  She trailed her finger down his chest. “Sure. Now that you’re all svelte and sexy.”

  He frowned. “Just because of that, huh?”

  She pressed her lips to his. “There are a few other reasons.”

  “Can I have a list?”

  “I’ll make one ASAP, but is it okay if we move past my emotional crisis now?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “What’s for lunch?”

  “CHICKEN SALAD, HUH?” Bryan asked as he stared down at his plate.

  Taking her seat across from him, Darcy shoved his shoulder. “Eat it. It’s healthy.”

  He poked at the lettuce. “It’s chick food.”

  “It is not.”

  “What’re you feeding the teams?”

  “I’m not feeding them anything,” she said primly, forking up a bite of her own scoop of chicken salad.

  He stared at her. “But you know what they’re having.”

  “It’s good chicken salad, you know.” She pointed with her fork. “I even put in the roasted walnuts you like so much on regular salads.”

  “You know what they’re having.”

  She sighed. “They’re having chicken.”

  “What kind of chicken?”

  “Grilled.”

  “With…?”

  “Slaw and potato salad.”

  “Is there barbeque sauce on the chicken?”

  She bit her lip.

  “I know you. I know your meal pairings. When you have slaw and potato salad, there’s barbecue sauce involved.”

  “Fine then. Yes.”

  “And ribs? I bet they’re having ribs, too.”

  “Possibly.” She stabbed more chicken salad. “Cade’s jack man is six-four, weighs at least two-sixty, works out two hours every day and loses three pounds a weekend during the races. They can’t feed him chicken salad.”

  “But I can have it.”

  She leaned forward, sliding her hand up his arm, sending the familiar tingles of desire straight to his gut. “You, my amazing boyfriend boss, are an evolved man.”

  He wasn’t sure whether he was being flattered or patronized. He glanced from her hand to the chicken salad, then back to her eyes. “I want this on my list.”

  “List?”

  “The one that records the reasons why you want to sleep with me.”

  Her eyes lit with sparks. “Done.”

  “And I want an expiration date on the sex.”

  She stared at him. “Excuse me?”

  “You know, I will sleep with Bryan by this date and time.”

  “You don’t want to let things just happen, you know, naturally?”

  “No.”

  She was silent for a long moment, during which he held his breath. He’d been kidding about the expiration date. Well, sort of. “What date and time did you have in mind?” she asked finally.

  He glanced at his watch. “Now’s good.”

  “I—” She set down her fork, then her gaze searched his face. “You’re messing with me.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted with a grin.

  He’d been so worried about her the night before, about her emotional state, how her breakdown would affect their relationship. Would he never measure up to her former husband? No matter what he did? No matter how much time passed?

  And yet he had no right to expect more from her. After all, he was using his own ugly past as motivation to change his future.

  “But if there’s no sex, then I want a cheeseburger.”

  “Now?”

  “For dinner.” Maybe if he kept a teasing attitude, his body would have the strength to follow suit and forget about the injustice of the exchange he was offering. “And every two weeks from now on.” When she said nothing, he added, “You get chocolate. I want a cheeseburger.”

  “Okay, that’s just not fair.”

  He shrugged. “At least I haven’t brought up the way you’ve been hoarding the stuff around here like a squirrel. And not sharing, either.”

  “’Cause you’re too nice to do that,” she said sarcastically.

  “Exactly.”

  She scowled as she picked up her water glass. “If you want the cheeseburgers, you’ll have to cut calories or increase exercise somewhere.”

  “Do I? I’m in maintenance mode, right? I don’t need to lose more weight. Just keep a balance.”

  She paused with her glass hovering at her lips. “You listen to me way too closely.”

  Laughing, he linked their hands. “You’re the only woman on the planet who’s ever uttered those words.”

  “Possibly.”

  “I’ll make the burgers tonight.”

  “But I’m supposed to—”

  He shook his head. “If you’re about to tell me that’s your job or I can’t figure out how to grill meat by myself, I’m going to have to turn in my man card. I’m eating the dang chicken salad. Let me do dinner.”

  “Do I get to lounge on the sofa watching sports on TV?”

  “I’d rather you hover by my side and tell me how great a cook I am.”

  “As long as you return the favor.”

  After lunch, he suggested they go out to watch some of the on-track activities. She agreed, though tentatively. “Are you sure nobody knows about yesterday?” she asked as they stepped outside.

  “Of course people know. Not that I told anybody. Or Dad or Rachel. But a medic worked on you, plus there was the hospitality volunteer and—”

  “But Rachel said nobody knew,” she protested, her voice high and alarmed.

  “When you’re associated with my family you’re going to get talked about. It’s part of the deal.” Glancing at her pale face, he pressed his hand into the small of her back and urged her toward the garages. He really needed to talk to Shawn about his practice session that morning, which hadn’t gone well, but he didn’t want to leave Darcy alone in the motor home with her sorrow and stash of chocolate bars. “Rachel probably didn’t want you to worry.”

  “I think I’ll go back to the motor home,” she said, turning. “I could start dinner.”

  He steered her back the other direction and kept a tight hold on her hand to be sure she didn’t run off. “It’s barely one o’clock, I know you like watching the races and I’m in charge of dinner. Forget about yesterday. It’s not like people are going to be whispering about you behind their hands.”

  She didn’t look so sure, but she walked along beside him. As they started to round the corner of the garage stalls, she shook her hand free of his. “This isn’t a date,” she said, her eyes looking to his for understanding. “We need to be professional.”

  Though he nodded, he was surprised by his reluctance to let her go. He wasn’t a big PDA guy, and with any woman he’d dated in the past, he would have been the one to ask for distance. Maybe it was simply the lingering protectiveness he felt toward her because of yesterday.

  As they walked into the main hub of the garage area, he saw lots of familiar faces. He spoke to a couple of people as he made his way to Shawn’s stall. The NASCAR Nationwide Series drivers were taking their parade laps around the track, preparing for the start of their race, their immediate vicinity was free of media and fans.

  Bryan found Shawn talking to his crew chief, Kyle, at the back of his race car. “How are things?” he asked after they’d greeted Darcy.

  “I can’t drive it through the center of the corner,” Shawn said, his voice tight with anxiety.

  Shawn, who’d grown up in Southern California, had always reminded Bryan of a surfer—shaggy blond hair, casual, live-and-let-live philosophy. Unfortunately, he didn’t look so laid-back at the moment.

  He wanted desperately to make the Chase for the NASCAR Sprint Cup. With Kevin as defending champion and Cade’s own intense drive to win th
e championship, having only missed it by a few points the previous year, Shawn longed to prove he belonged in the GRI stable of elite drivers.

  Bryan remembered his own ferocious need to demonstrate he was worthy of belonging to his family of champions, so he understood as probably few could.

  “What’ve you done?” he asked Kyle.

  “We tried Cade’s setup,” he said.

  Shawn sighed. “We think that’s why the last practice was so lousy.”

  Cade and Shawn had a completely different style of driving, and each setup was tailored to a particular driver. If the guy behind the wheel didn’t have the feel he wanted, the car was going to the back pretty quickly, no matter how brilliant the engineers, mechanics and other support personnel. Shawn’s team must have been fairly desperate to try that particular tactic.

  “Don’t panic,” Bryan said. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Had his absence yesterday caused their worry to intensify? His dad hadn’t been around, either. Darcy’s collapse had distracted them all.

  Times like this reminded him how difficult it was to balance his personal and professional life. He’d focused on his career, no doubt ignoring his wife too often, and wound up divorced. His parents had made things work for a long, long time, but they, too, hadn’t lasted.

  But his brother and sister were managing. Hell, thriving.

  Was it all a matter of the right timing, or the right person?

  He shook off the personal thoughts. “Let me look at your notes,” he said to Kyle, reaching for his clipboard.

  “I’ll let you guys handle—” Darcy glanced at Kyle’s scribbled chart of tire pressure, wind tunnel results, dyno testing and resulting track speed “—all that. I’m going over to Shawn’s hauler. I need to find out if they got all the supplies for tomorrow’s lunch.”

  “I’ll find you in a few minutes,” Bryan said.

  As their gazes met briefly, she nodded. Professionally. Boss-to-employee-like. After all they’d been through in the last day, the detachment was odd.

  He didn’t like it one bit.

  “Hey,” Shawn called as she started to walk away, “the chicken was great. Thanks.”

  Kyle grinned, then elbowed his driver. “Sure it was. But the ribs were even better.”

  Darcy’s gaze darted to Bryan’s. Her face flushed. He’d known they’d had ribs.

  When she was gone, Bryan gave his full attention to Shawn and Kyle. There was a final practice late that afternoon, so they had only one, short opportunity to try out the new strategy they came up with before race day.

  Retreating to the back of the garage and the computer, they talked through their plans, consulting with mechanics and engineers and calling Sam, Cade’s crew chief, at one point to get his thoughts. To start a race with an ill-handling race car, basically putting the driver and team into a hole they had to dig out of before the first lap was even complete, rarely led to a successful finish.

  Still, Bryan occasionally found himself glancing into the area between the garages and haulers, looking for Darcy.

  At one point, he saw her talking to Chance Baker, of all people. He ignored every instinct he possessed that told him to run to her, separate her from the man who seemed determined—or destined—to interfere with Bryan’s life at every turn.

  By the time he’d finished his meeting with Shawn and Kyle, she was standing behind the car, waiting for him.

  “What did you talk to Chance about?” Bryan asked, heading out at a brisk pace.

  “Nothing much. He wanted to know why I’d taken the job with you instead of him.”

  “And you said?”

  “That my friendship with Parker inspired me to go with GRI instead.”

  He glanced at her. “Is that why you took the job?”

  “Yes.” She paused. “I didn’t know you then—”

  “And I wasn’t very nice to you. Parker had to be the only incentive.”

  They reached the end of the garage stalls. A group of Cade’s crew were heading the opposite way. They smiled, and Darcy waved, but Bryan didn’t stop or acknowledge them.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Darcy asked.

  He didn’t answer, but his heart rate picked up speed, as did his stride.

  “Are you mad I talked to Chance?”

  “No, of course not.” But he was. Irrationally, the idea of Chance talking to Darcy, of him being anywhere on the planet near her, was maddening. And why? It’s not as if he was jealous of that little jerk.

  “He asked me a question, and I answered it,” Darcy said, her tone pushing toward annoyance. “Nothing personal. What was I supposed to say?”

  “Get lost is the first thing that comes to mind.”

  Once they passed by the guard at the drivers’ and owners’ motor home lot, she grabbed his arm and turned him to face her. “So you’re mad I talked to him.”

  “I said I wasn’t.”

  “You’re mad about something.”

  “I’m—” What was he exactly? He pushed his hand through his hair, resisting the urge to tug. Frustration and aggravation permeated his every pore. It was the upcoming race. It had to be. He was taking on Shawn and Kyle’s frustration with the car. One glance at Chance Baker talking to his woman couldn’t—

  Oh, man.

  His woman?

  “I think Nicole left him,” Darcy said, breaking into his disturbing thoughts.

  And it just gets better. Or was it worse?

  When he didn’t comment, but started walking again, she asked, “If that’s true, how do you feel?”

  “Am I supposed to congratulate her, or commiserate with him?”

  “Don’t be flip. My…episode happened because I was suppressing my feelings. They built up and—”

  “And your knees were suddenly weak?” He flung open the door to his motor home. “Come on, Darcy. That was entirely different.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “No, it’s not. Are you really going to stand there and tell me it doesn’t matter to you whether or not your ex is still hooked up with Chance?” She held up her finger before he could speak. “Try to remember I’m the person who set you on your revenge quest.”

  He stared at the floor. He couldn’t deny the truth to those all-seeing golden eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe it matters. But at the moment Nicole doesn’t concern me near as much as you.” He met her gaze. “I don’t want you talking to Chance. I don’t even want you near him.” Lifting his hands, then letting them fall, he confessed the humiliating truth. “There you go. I’m a possessive, jealous idiot.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DARCY’S MOUTH WENT DRY. “Jealous? You’re jealous of Chance.”

  “Yes.” Bryan hissed out the word. “He has what I’m supposed to have—a successful driving career, endless opportunities for fame, fortune, glory, trophies and championships. He also has my wife.”

  Braced against the counter, Darcy tried to order her thoughts. She supposed she should be flattered Bryan was possessive of her. It was the my wife part that she couldn’t get past. He still thought of Nicole as belonging to him.

  A lump rose in her throat that she fought to talk around. “Would you—”

  “He took my wife,” he said harshly before she could get out her question. “He’s not taking my girlfriend.”

  Her gaze jumped to his. “You don’t seriously think I’m interested in dating Chance Baker, do you?”

  “If he tried to hire you, would you accept?”

  “No.”

  Her simple, immediate response seemed to startle him. “What if he offered you triple the money?” he asked.

  Darcy closed her eyes. Her heart contracted in her chest. “No.” She forced herself to look at him. “You think I’m here for money?” she whispered. “You think this is just a job to me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Dear heaven, she had no idea his ability to trust was so damaged by that selfish witch he’d been married to. “I know I’ve got problems.
I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with sometimes. I’m demanding and prideful.” She clenched her fist by her side. “But I am not her.”

  He turned away, then sank on the sofa, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Told you I’m an idiot. I’m not trying to compare you to her. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Would you take her back if she asked you?”

  He looked up. “No. No way.”

  She didn’t completely believe him. Not that he was lying. He was telling the truth as he considered it now. But if Nicole came to him with tears and apologies, criticism of Chance and the way he’d treated her—whether that was true or not—Bryan would be tempted.

  If for nothing else than to say he’d won.

  “I’m sorry.” He snagged her hand and pulled her down beside him, then drew her into his arms. “I really messed this up.”

  She inhaled his familiar, wood- and spice-infused scent, and her heart ached. She was trying to move on with her life only to fall for a man who might never truly be hers? How stupid was that?

  Yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself from taking the risk anyway.

  “You could argue with me a little about the idiot part,” he said after a moment.

  She pressed her cheek against his neck. “No, I really don’t think I can.”

  Leaning back, he cupped her face in his hand. “Then will you forgive me and let me make you dinner?”

  “I can do that.”

  He kissed her softly. “I don’t want to talk about them anymore today.”

  “Who?”

  “Nicole and Tom.”

  She angled her head. Tom? “What about Chance?”

  “I definitely don’t want to talk about him. I barely acknowledge he breathes most of the time, but today I had to restrain myself from punching him out. I thought I’d gotten past that urge.”

  “The past sneaks up and bites you when you least expect it.”

  “I guess it does.”

  She’d used the I don’t want to talk about it tactic with him, then proceeded to blab endlessly anyway. She doubted the same would work with him. And she knew they needed to talk about Nicole, just as she’d confessed her guilt about Tom. If she and Bryan were going to make anything meaningful out of their relationship, they had to settle their pasts first.