by Gina Wilkins
It was exactly the type of wedding Tanya had always pictured for herself, she thought as she stood quietly in the background, recording moments for posterity. She’d always thought she’d like to have a small, Christmastime wedding with poinsettias and balsam and…
But, no. She had a job to do and daydreaming about her own fantasy wedding—especially with everything else going on in her life—was not the way to do it.
The minister, who had dressed in a bright orange blouse with a black skirt to match the color scheme, gladly proclaimed the couple married and bade them to share a kiss in celebration. The groom smiled down at his bride before lowering his head, and something about the way he looked at her made Tanya think of the way Kent gazed at her on occasion. She pressed the shutter-release button with a bit more force than necessary, preserving the tender kiss forever in megapixels.
Following the ceremony was a lovely reception, at which the bride and groom shared a champagne toast out of crystal flutes. The flutes looked very much like the ones Kent had given Tanya last Valentine’s Day—along with a diamond necklace she was actually wearing with her go-anywhere black pantsuit today. He’d gone all out last year, taking time from his season opening obligations to make sure she felt loved and treasured.
That holiday was almost here again, she realized abruptly. It made her sad to think that they would be spending this one estranged, especially in comparison to the near perfection of their last Valentine’s Day.
The entrée for the dinner after the wedding was a grilled beef tenderloin with tiny potatoes and a colorful vegetable mixture. Kent loved beef tenderloin, especially with mushrooms. Actually, he loved anything served with mushrooms, she thought with a slight smile as she snapped a shot of the bride teasingly feeding a bite of carrot to her groom.
And she was thinking about Kent again, she realized in annoyance as she lowered her camera. Nice way to concentrate on her work.
She would not think about him again tonight. At least, not until this job was completed, she promised herself. She made no guarantees for later, when she lay in her bed trying to sleep and wishing he was with her.
“What’s wrong?”
Turning to accept a bottle of water from Mandy, her assistant, Tanya shook her head. “Nothing. And thanks, I was getting thirsty.”
“I figured. I packed up the gear from the chapel and put it in your SUV. You don’t need me anymore this evening, do you?”
“No, I’ll just snap a few more candids here at the reception and then I’ll call it a night. Thanks for everything, Mandy. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
“Yeah. Get some rest. You look tired. But don’t worry, I don’t think anyone else here knows you well enough to be able to tell.”
Rather than take offense, Tanya just smiled. “Thanks for the concern. I’ll rest later.”
“Right. See you later.”
Tanya already had her camera to her eye again, focusing on the bride dancing with her father, determined to concentrate on her career and not her personal life. “Bye, Mandy.”
Even before Mandy had completely moved away, Tanya found herself remembering that she and Kent had once danced to this very song. So much for not thinking about him anymore this evening.
SPEEDWEEK PASSED IN A BLUR of activity—meetings, practice, publicity events, autograph sessions, arguments, compromises, frustrations and triumphs. Had it not been for the nagging anxieties about his personal problems, Kent would have relished every minute of it.
He supposed it took a special sort of personality to enjoy this life and everything that went with it. The demands were sometimes overwhelming, the schedules beyond hectic, the expectations almost out of the realm of human possibility. Truth be told, not all the drivers enjoyed the crowds, the publicity, the interviews, the promotional appearances, the cameras, the microphones—everything that went with being a NASCAR celebrity. Others thrived on the attention, seeking the fame and money as avidly as they pursued victory.
Kent fell somewhere in the middle. Being a “people person,” he rather enjoyed the promotional aspect of his job, though there were times when he just wanted to be alone.
Despite their wide-ranging differences, the drivers all shared one trait. They loved being behind the wheel of a race car, rocketing around the track in the heat and the noise and the smells and the excitement, chasing the next win, the next championship. None of the rest would be worth it, otherwise.
Because Kent had finished in an odd-numbered position, he was set to drive in the first of the 150-mile qualifying races on Thursday. He would compete for an odd-numbered starting position in the race, which meant he could place as high as third behind his father and Rafael O’Bryan.
In a pre-race ritual that Neil Sanchez had begun a long time ago, the team gathered in a huddle around the pit box just before Kent climbed into the car. They held out their right arms, stacking their hands in the center of the circle.
“Who are we?” Neil demanded loudly, looking from one blue-and-red-clad team member to the next.
“Team 427,” Kent recited in unison with his teammates.
“What do we do?”
“We race.”
“And why are we here?”
“To win!” they all yelled together. They pumped their stacked hands once, then broke apart with noisy cheers of anticipation. Steve playfully punched his cousin’s shoulder, the blow landing hard enough to make Kent wince and complain that his spotter was trying to handicap him.
“It’s just jealousy,” Billy, the jackman, drawled. “Nobody puts a spotter’s picture on a T-shirt.”
“I don’t see your ugly mug on anybody’s chest, either,” Steve retorted with a laugh.
The conversation went downhill from there, until everyone separated to go see to their separate responsibilities.
Fortunately, Neil seemed to be completely focused on the job that afternoon, sounding like his usual, capable self as Kent fell in line behind the pace car, waiting for the green flag. “You can do this, buddy,” Neil said through Kent’s helmet headset. “We’ve got the car handling just the way you like it. Your team is all warmed up and ready to kick butt in the pit. You’re the reigning champion, and today you’re going to show everyone why.”
Kent grinned. It felt good to be in a race again, even if only a qualifying race. Good to have his racing friends and competitors on the track with him, and his team ready to serve his every need. Good to have Neil’s cheerful voice in his ear, encouraging him, reminding him what a great partnership they had when everything was going right. Good to know he had a throng of fans in the stands, cheering him on, trying to drown out the yells of his competitor’s supporters.
All would be right with his world—if only Tanya were here, he thought, his gloved hands tightening for a moment on the steering wheel. While it was true that her own career kept her from attending every event, this was the first time he found himself wondering if she would ever again be waiting for him at the end of a race. They’d had minor quarrels before—even a couple of rather heated disagreements during the time they’d been together—but there had never been this kind of distance between them.
To make things worse, it was Valentine’s Day. He remembered this time last year, when he and Tanya had been almost giddy in the throes of their relatively new relationship. Even then, he had known that he’d found the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Now he couldn’t help wondering if that was never going to happen.
He knew she was disillusioned with him for lying to her. He knew, as well, how difficult it would be for her to get past that deception.
He kept telling himself that she was making too much of an old transgression. But somehow he had the feeling that this incident had exposed a deeper problem between them. He just couldn’t quite figure out what it was. Or whether it was reparable.
“Kent! Can you hear me? Something wrong with your radio?”
Startled by Neil’s shout in his ear, Kent blinked and chided
himself for getting distracted even for a moment. Especially since he had been so insistent that Neil should put his love-life problems aside when it came to the job, and that he should not let them interfere with his responsibilities to the team. Now it was time to follow his own counsel. No more thoughts of Tanya for the next 150 miles, he vowed. He had a race to win.
“I copy, Neil,” he said, speaking with his usual confidence. “Just getting myself prepared for this.”
“Yeah, well, next time grunt or something when I talk to you. I need to know you’re hearing me.”
“Will do.”
Listening intently as his crew chief repeated the previously unheard instructions, Kent trained his eyes on the cars ahead of him, already planning his strategy for getting around them.
TANYA ARRIVED AT THE TRACK during the fourth lap of Kent’s qualifying race. She had hoped to get there in time to wish him luck, but the crowds at Daytona for the season opening had made traffic a nightmare, even after she’d pulled all the strings at her disposal.
She was welcomed to the hauler with surprise. Amy Barber, Kent’s P.R. rep, was the first to spot her. A smile lit her hazel eyes, warming her girl-next-door-pretty face. “Hi, Tanya,” she shouted over the deafening roar of the cars on the track. “I didn’t realize you were going to be here today.”
“A last-minute change of schedule,” Tanya replied with a deliberately airy smile. “How’s it going out there?”
Tucking a breeze-tossed strand of wavy, shoulder-length chestnut hair behind her ear, Amy glanced toward the action on the track. “Kent’s already moved up to third. He says his car is awesome today.”
“That’s nice to hear. The crowd’s crazy, isn’t it? It took me forever to get here.”
“It’s always like this opening week, but it does seem particularly hectic this year.”
Tobey Harris moved past them on his way to the pit box. He paused to greet Tanya with a smile, speaking in the race-track shout that everyone used during an event. “Hello. Glad you could make it.”
She hadn’t seen Tobey in several months, and was struck again by how boyishly handsome he was, even though he was her own age. “Hello, Tobey. It’s good to see you again.”
“Kent will be glad to know you’re here.”
“No, tell everyone not to mention me on the radio. He needs to concentrate on the race. I’ll surprise him later.” And she hoped it was a pleasant surprise, considering the tension between them when they had parted.
Tobey nodded and grinned. “Right. A Valentine’s Day surprise. Make yourself comfortable, and let someone know if you need anything at all.”
“I will. Thanks.”
She watched him stroll away, then glanced at Amy, who was also watching Tobey. “I don’t know him very well, but he always seems so pleasant.”
Turning back to Tanya, Amy nodded. “Nice kid,” she agreed, even though she was only two or three years older than Tanya and Tobey. “Kent thinks he’s got a real future in racing. Might even make crew chief in a couple of years.”
The cars roared past and the crowd screamed in response to an exciting lead change. Somebody ran past them toward the garage, bumping into Tanya from behind with a muttered apology. She righted herself immediately, having grown accustomed to the chaos of a race day in the hauler, garage and pit areas.
“Do you want to watch from the top of the hauler?” Amy shouted, pointing to the ladder that led up to the deck-like viewing area at the top of the massive tractor-trailer rig. “I’m going inside to make some calls and watch on screen, if you’d like to join me.”
Tanya wasn’t really in the mood to stand on top of the hauler, feeling eyes on her from every direction. “I’d like to come inside, if I wouldn’t be in the way.”
“Not at all.”
There was some respite from the noise once they stepped inside the hauler. They passed through the snacks-and-lockers area, past the tool storage boxes and into the office/lounge at the front of the trailer, where the race was playing on a large, flat-screen television mounted on the back wall. Sinking into a leather sofa, Tanya noted that Kent was still in third place, but closing fast on his father, who was running second.
She watched the rest of the abbreviated race while Amy made half a dozen phone calls, setting up interviews and publicity events for Kent. Tanya didn’t even try to listen in, but she knew that Amy stayed very busy with her job as Kent’s media rep. She had met Amy several times, of course, though they hadn’t spent much time alone together. She couldn’t say she knew Amy very well on a personal basis, but she liked her.
Tanya was sitting on the edge of the couch during the final laps of the race. Kent had passed Dean and was trying to get around the race leader. She held her breath as Kent went low, and then high, trying to find any weakness in the leader’s line, ready to take advantage of the first opportunity to get around.
That opportunity came on Turn Two of the last lap. The leader fishtailed just a little coming out of the turn, sending him up the track just enough to make an opening for Kent to go low into the turn. They raced side by side for a while, each nosing ahead momentarily, then falling back again. They were still together as they approached the finish line, but one final burst of speed let Kent finish a fraction of a second ahead of his challenger. Kent would start third in the big race on Sunday.
Both Tanya and Amy, who had concluded a call only moments earlier, cheered in response to Kent’s victory. They shared laughing high fives, hearing the crowd roaring outside the hauler, and Kent’s team celebrating around them.
“I’d say that’s a good start to the weekend,” Amy approved, her phone still in her hand. “Now, if he drives that way Sunday, he’s got a very good chance of winning the opening race.”
“He would love that, wouldn’t he? It’s high on his list of the goals he still wants to accomplish in his career—right below winning more NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championships.”
“You should go celebrate with him,” Amy encouraged, already dialing another number on her phone. “I’ll be out as soon as I’ve made a couple more calls.”
Smoothing her hand down the legs of the slightly wrinkled gray slacks she wore with a lightweight red jacket and scoop-neck shell, Tanya decided she looked presentable enough for the cameras that would soon be focused on her.
“I’ll see you later,” she mouthed to Amy on her way out of the hauler. Amy waved distractedly in response.
Kent was already surrounded by media types when she finally made her way to him. Though not accompanied by quite the same frenzy that would follow the big race on Sunday, these qualifying races were a big deal, a glimpse of the season to come for fans starving after the winter’s race fast. The second of the qualifying races, to determine the even numbered positions on Sunday, would begin soon, but in the meantime, reporters were trying to get a quick quote from Kent and the other drivers who had just secured their own spots.
Cheerfully cooperating, Kent was too busy to notice Tanya when she first approached. She was watching his face when he first spotted her. His eyes widened and his smile changed slightly—just enough to let her know that his first reaction at seeing her was pleasure. That observation warmed her guarded heart.
Camera shutters clicked when he caught her in his arms for a hug. “When did you get here?” he asked her, ignoring the attention.
She smiled up at him, aware that several people were listening to them. That self-consciousness made her speak a bit primly, “Right after the race started. I’m sorry I didn’t get here before, but we were held up in that horrendous traffic.”
He grinned. “I’m just glad you’re here now.”
“So am I. Congratulations on the qualifying, by the way. Nice job.”
“Thanks. Let’s get out of here.”
Keeping her close to his side, he made his way through the throngs, pausing to utter a sound-bite into the occasional out-thrust microphone or scrawl his name on whatever souvenir someone held out hopefully to him. H
e stopped by the hauler to talk for a couple of minutes with his crew chief, and then he and Tanya climbed into a golf cart to make their way to the restricted motor home lot where his palace-on-wheels was parked.
He seemed to be in a hurry to get her alone. As for herself, well, she knew they needed to talk. She just hoped this conversation would go better than the last one.
CHAPTER SIX
KENT KEYED IN THE SECURITY code that opened the door to his motor home, then let Tanya precede him in. He pushed a hand through his helmet-sweaty hair when she turned to face him.
“I, uh, think I need a shower,” he said, making a face as he caught a glimpse of himself in a decorative mirror.
She was actually rather relieved to have a few minutes alone to decide what she wanted to say to him. “Go ahead. I’ll make some coffee.”
He nodded. “Jesse’s got the kitchen set up pretty much like the old one. The coffeemaker’s in that little cubbyhole behind the sink. You should be able to find everything you need.”
“I’ll manage.”
He hesitated a moment, as if there were something else he wanted to say—or do. But then he turned and moved toward the back of the motor home, saying over his shoulder, “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time,” she said, moving toward the kitchen.
She heard the shower running as she opened cabinets, located the coffeemaker and figured out how to use it. She had to concentrate very hard on the simple task, just to keep her mind from filling with images of Kent standing beneath that stream of water. She was beginning to think she should be making iced tea, instead, considering how warm she suddenly felt.
Still, she had two steaming cups of coffee ready when Kent emerged, along with a plate of homemade lemon bars she had found on the counter, and which she suspected Jesse had made. Jesse knew Kent had a sweet tooth, and he often made treats like this for him.