by Ella Jade
“Let’s find out.” He grasped her elbow with his calloused palm.
Chad might be the crew chief, but he was still hands-on. The sandpaper-roughness of his fingers created a delicious, but wholly inappropriate, electrical charge zinging across her nerve endings. Stop it Cat, she scolded herself as she reached Drew’s side.
“You were looking for me, boss?” she addressed her car owner.
He shot a stern look over the rim of his spectacles. “Where did you get to, young lady?”
Heat infused her face. “I got a fresh drink, and ended up talking with other people.”
Drew huffed. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”
Cat smothered a snicker as she sipped her water. Andrew had that stern, fatherly look down, and he was a shrewd businessman, but inside he was a teddy bear.
She stayed with Drew the rest of the evening. To her dismay, and ever-growing desire, so did Chad. They flanked her like soldiers protecting their general. Well, in a twisted way, they were. On one hand, she found it endearing. On the other, however, Chad’s every touch ignited flames of desire in her blood.
Cat escaped unnoticed around eleven. She drove back to her penthouse and changed into casual clothes, then hit up her favorite watering hole. She slipped onto an empty stool near the door and caught the eye of the guy flipping bottles a few feet away.
“What can I get you, sugar?” His teeth flashed brilliant white against his tan.
She smiled back. “Grey Goose martini, two olives, dirty.”
“Coming right up.” The bartender, who resembled the model Corey Anderson, grabbed the bottles and performed a mini flair routine as he prepared her drink. His chiseled abs and defined pecs rippled beneath the skin-tight t-shirt gleaming in the overhead spotlights.
“Thank you.” She fished a ten from her wallet. “Keep the change, darlin’.”
The sour olive juice blended perfectly with the vodka as it soothed her parched throat while she tried putting her chaotic emotions for Chad into some semblance of order.
“Excuse me,” a female voice said from behind Cat. “Are you Catalina Bryant?”
Cat turned. “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”
She fought to keep from covering her ears, half-expecting the glass bottles to shatter from the girl’s shriek. “Omigosh! This is awesome!” She looked barely old enough to drink. “Can I get a picture?”
Cat politely declined. Her privacy already at a premium, she didn’t want her bolt-hole to end up on social media, but she requested a pen from the guy who’d served her drink. Signing her second napkin of the evening, she handed it to the girl. Seemingly satisfied with the autograph, she shuffled back into the fray.
Cat finished her drink and set the glass on the bar, declining the offer of a refill from the hunky bartender. His spiky black hair glinted with blue highlights. Scanning the room, she noted that the crowd had nearly doubled in the thirty minutes she’d been there.
“Hey, Cat.” The owner wrapped her in a hug.
Cat returned the embrace. Tiffany Jane Dalton wasn’t a typical bar owner. Former swimsuit model and NFL cheerleader, TJ catered to an older clientele and the athletic crowd. But it wasn’t a sports bar. Dalton’s was a classy place, popular with Charlotte’s professional sports teams. Security was tight, but fans could still relax with their favorite players over pool or darts.
“How was the party?” TJ still had her finger on the pulse of the professional sports world.
“Dull and boring.” Cat smirked. “A bunch of suits puffing up their own self-importance while hobnobbing with NASCAR drivers and pretending to show generosity.”
“Ugh.” TJ wrinkled her nose delicately. “I don’t miss those days.”
“Good evening, Miss Dalton,” the bartender greeted his boss. “Would you like your usual?”
Nodding affirmative, TJ turned back to Cat. “Shane’s my best guy.”
Cat agreed. “His flair is awesome.”
Shane set the drink in front of his boss a minute later. TJ sipped the fruity cocktail, winking at Cat over the rim.
“Watch this.” She set the glass back on the bar and cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting “Charlotte!” at the bartenders.
The four young men scrambled into position behind the bar, juggling alcohol bottles and mixing tumblers. The blond surfer-lookalike at the other end landed a bottle of Malibu on his forehead. They captivated their audience with a series of high-flying passes that caught some serious air time, but came down perfectly in the hands of the waiting receiver. The crowd applauded their performance, and the guys bowed before returning to their posts.
Cat set forty dollars on the bar and slid off the stool. “For the guys.”
“They’ll appreciate that.” TJ gave her another hug.
Cat returned to her condo shortly thereafter. As she turned off the bedside lamp and slid beneath the satin sheets, she was still no closer to figuring out her emotions for Chad than she’d been when she’d gone to Dalton’s.
Chapter 2
The roar of the unmuffled engine had Cat covering her ears as her teammate rumbled from the garage onto the track at Daytona.
“What do you think?” Chad asked as the team swarmed her car.
Cat tilted her head to the side. “I’ll let you know after a few more laps.”
The guys put fresh rubber on her blank, primer-gray 120 car and backed it out of the garage bay. Cat levered herself through the window. After buckling the safety equipment, she drove onto the track, taking a few laps to get a feel for the car and build up the tire pressures.
“How’s she doin’?” Chad asked through the headset.
“Good. Car’s fast and the tires are sticking.” Cat drove hard into turn one, ducking to the inside of the two faster cars drafting on the high side of the track.
“Rivera and Stettler are drafting up on your left rear,” her spotter said. “I’ll tell them you’re the caboose on their train.”
“Copy that.” Cat hit max speed coming out of turn four as they passed on her right.
“Drift high and tuck in behind the one-forty-two car,” Chad instructed as she sailed up the front stretch. “But don’t tap his bumper.”
Cat glided smoothly into Stettler’s slipstream. Her speed increased as the amount of drag around her car decreased. “Damn, this is awesome,” she said to herself as the nose of her car hugged the tail of the 142.
“Stay in his tracks for a few laps,” Zane continued. “Get a feel for the draft.”
Cat followed her spotter’s instructions, riding behind Stettler, watching how the two experienced drivers used aerodynamics to their advantage.
“Stettler’s gonna pass Rivera next time by,” Zane said. “When he goes, stay on his tail.”
“Ten-four,” she replied to her spotter.
Coming off turn two, Stettler broke the draft and dove hard to the inside of Rivera. Cat stayed on his bumper, the amount of drag increasing as they shot past Rivera.
“Congratulations,” Zane whooped in her ear. “Your first draft at one hundred and ninety miles per hour.”
She couldn’t help it; she laughed.
“Bring her in next time by,” Chad instructed through her headset.
Cat parked in the garage and climbed out, then walked to where Jacob and Mark parked their rides, shaking hands with each driver. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem.” Jacob ran his hands through his curly wheat-gold hair. “It was fun.”
“You did well out there,” Mark said, his blue eyes bright with admiration. “Not many rookies have handled the draft the way you just did.”
“Thank you, Mark.” She shook his hand again. “I appreciate that.”
“Try it in the race, though,” he warned playfully, “and I’ll shake you like a tail feather.”
She laughed. “We’ll see.”
A couple of minutes and a few more teasing jabs later, Cat returned to her own team. Gabe was reading the numbers off to
Chad and Drew from her run. Chad put her in a headlock.
“Hey!” She punched his side, and he let her go. He flashed a wounded look. “Get over it.” She stuck out her tongue. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”
His pale green eyes intensified in challenge. Electricity crackled between them. Cat broke away and glanced around. Surely the others sense it too?
Her team was making adjustments on her car for the next run, going about their normal routine. But nothing felt normal to her anymore.
Chad stepped closer, pointing out her lap times on the sheet attached to his clipboard. “You felt it too,” he said for her ears only.
Cat frowned in confusion as his scent hit her senses. Her heart rate accelerated. “What?”
His beautiful lips twisted wryly. “This thing between us. The undercurrent.”
She gasped. “Chad—”
“I want to kiss you,” he confessed, “but I won’t. Not here.”
“Chad, we can’t.” She took a step back. “We work together. The team...”
“We’ll be discreet.” He stepped closer.
Cat held her ground, refusing to let him intimidate her. If she backed away again, she ran the risk of drawing the attention of Zane and Drew. “Chad, stop,” she whispered fiercely. She tilted her head to meet his gaze. The desire swirling in his eyes made her breath catch. “Not here.”
Mirth replaced some of the desire in his gaze. “We’ll talk later.”
“Fine.” Cat swung around so fast her ponytail smacked him in the face as she stalked back to the hauler, seething in frustration over her own seesawing emotions.
Why does this have to be so hard? Ignoring the catcalls, she escaped the strong Florida sunshine and retreated to the conference room. I’ve worked so hard to get here. I want Chad, but I want my racing career too! Locking the door behind her, she plopped down on the sofa as tears pricked her eyes. Why can’t I have it all? She blinked furiously, determined not to cry.
Moments later someone knocked on the door. “Cat, let me in,” Chad called.
Huffing, she slammed her fist into the cushion and shoved to her feet. Chad pushed into the room the second she undid the lock. She stepped back from his intense gaze, but he hauled her against him and grasped her ponytail, holding her still to the onslaught of his hard but passionate kiss. He gave her bottom lip a sharp nip with his teeth. She gasped, and he took advantage, thrusting his tongue against hers.
Cat whimpered, offering a mild protest. He just kept kissing her. And God help her, she wanted him to. She moaned in acquiescence and gripped his shoulders for support, the last of her defenses melting away.
They were both panting when he pulled back. “Tell me there’s nothing between us.” He strode back out of the hauler.
She plopped on the sofa, completely drained of strength. His onslaught left her totally undone, and she no longer knew what was what. She sighed. It’s gonna be a long season.
* * * *
Cat hung back as her team unloaded the shiny new Monte Carlo from the lift gate, the deep purple and silver Handy Electronics colors glossy in the Daytona sun as they pushed the car into their assigned garage bay across from the hauler.
She closed her eyes and breathed deep, enjoying the scent of fresh air and salty ocean as anticipation bubbled in her veins. They’d returned to Daytona for the start of the racing season four weeks after the tire testing. The engines hadn’t been fired yet, but soon the heady smells of exhaust and tire smoke would saturate the humid mid-winter air. At twenty-six, she finally had her shot in the big leagues. She’d show those boys that girls could play too.
“Get ready for your appearances.” Deanna appeared on her left. “The first one’s in an hour and a half at the Daytona 500 Experience.”
Cat took a copy of the itinerary from her PR director and headed to the motor coach lot that would be her home for the next two weeks.
* * * *
Seven hours later Cat returned to her coach, her arm sore and head throbbing from her first official appearance as a Sprint Cup rookie. She downed three ibuprofen caplets with a bottle of water and plopped onto the sofa, shutting her eyes against the ache. She started regretting the tepid champagne toast from the pre-season sponsor party. If today’s autograph session was anything to go by, she was beginning to think she’d been jinxed.
The kids had screamed and whined while they were in line, and hadn’t been any better when they reached her table. She loved kids, but the ones today had her considering permanent birth control. A few parents tried cajoling and others tried bribery, but nothing worked. She did the only thing she could do: put on a happy face for the cameras and sent them on their way.
Cat turned off her phone and went to the galley kitchen for dinner. The rest of the night was hers, and she planned to spend it in peace and quiet. If there was an emergency, Deanna would just have to break down her door.
The next morning Cat woke with her alarm, ready to begin the first day of practice. She matched a purple polo, the Handy Electronics logo over her heart, with a pair of chinos, then strode to the hauler across the infield. Most of the team was already there, including Chad and Gabe. Chad’s polo matched hers, and he’d paired it with black pants. Her heart skipped a beat. There should be laws against any man looking that gorgeous. She turned away, her cheeks burning. When her hormones were sufficiently under control, she gave a blanket greeting to her team and entered the hauler to change into her fire suit.
Studying the numbers from last month’s test, and using different facts to support her ideas, Cat suggested a set-up for her first run. Gabe had a gleam of admiration in his eyes.
To her dismay, he was the only one. Some of the guys, including both of her tire changers, hadn’t adjusted to working for a woman driver. Tough. They didn’t have to like it as long as she could trust them to do their jobs. She refused to be the little girl running to Daddy every time someone did something she didn’t like or agree with and beg for him to fix it.
“Get it done, boys,” Chad commanded, interrupting her thoughts.
The mechanics and engineers swarmed with wrenches in hand, setting up the car to her specifications. Twenty minutes later Cat made her first practice lap around the two-and-a-half mile, high-banked tri-oval that was Daytona International Speedway. She took the ten or so laps to shake the car down and get a feel for the handling before she radioed her crew chief.
“How’s she feel?” Chad asked.
She keyed the mic on the wheel. “Tight in one and two, good in three and four.”
“Come in. We’ll adjust to get a balance around the whole track, and then we’ll do a full fuel run to see where we’re at.”
Cat pulled into the pits and parked in her garage bay. Hanging her helmet on the hook, she climbed out the window and strode to her crew chief. “What did you think?”
She peered at the clipboard over his shoulder. Her bones nearly melted from the citrus aroma of his aftershave.
“We should be set for the first fuel run in a few minutes.” Chad didn’t look up from his spreadsheets. “Leave your motor home unlocked tonight.”
The request caught her off-guard as lust slammed through her, and she found herself agreeing. She tamped down her emotions and watched her team in action. The crew set up the car, turning a screw here and tightening a bolt there, getting it ready for the next run. She stood next to Chad, going over lap times and preferred lanes.
“You should be good to go.” His voice was flat as the crew backed the car out of the stall.
Cat searched his eyes, but they were guarded, impenetrable. She slid through the window and buckled the safety gear, itching to get back out onto the track.
After the first fuel run Cat returned to the hauler for a quick debrief as the crew readied the car for the next run based on her feedback. Drew, Gabe, and Larry, the engine specialist, left the conference room, but Chad held her back.
“Alone at last.” He dragged the elastic band from her ponytail and forke
d his long fingers into her hair, holding her still for the demanding onslaught of his kiss.
Cat pushed at his chest, but her arms were wedged between them and she had no leverage. His kiss spread fire through her blood and set her nerve endings alight as the swift current carried her away. Chad angled his mouth over hers. The first stroke of his tongue nearly sent her to her knees.
“I want you,” he said, his arms banded around her back. “Meet me for dinner.”
His words were a douse of ice water. “Chad.” She turned her head, pushing at him with all her strength. “Chad, stop.”
They were both breathless when he finally released her. Her foot caught on the table leg as she stepped back, knocking her off-balance. He steadied her with a hand on her spine.
“Easy, Cat.” Amusement danced in his eyes.
If anyone had walked in on them, they would’ve seen the crew chief keeping his driver from falling. But the strength of his taut muscles through her uniform made her want to give in.
“Dinner,” he reiterated.
“Why?” She wheezed the word past the tightness of her throat.
“So we can analyze today’s runs and develop a strategy for qualifying.” The side of his mouth quirked into a sexy half-grin as his hand gently massaged the back of her neck. “And because I can’t stand not touching you.”
“Chad.” Cat took another step back, but he didn’t let go. “I don’t—we can’t—” She jammed her fingers through her hair, stifling a groan. He was so close that her brain short-circuited; the musky citrus of his aftershave dominated her senses. “I don’t know if I can have an affair with you.”
“Who said anything about an affair?” His eyes flashed with desire as his fingertips gently stroked the curve of her jaw. “Yet.”
Despite her reservations about getting involved with Chad, his easy command had her body quickening in desire. “I—I shouldn’t,” she stammered, her will crumbling.
“You should.” The hand on her back pressed her tighter against him.
His masculine heat made mincemeat of her resistance. She pushed away, but his hand tightened like a vise on her waist.