And the Winner--Weds!

Home > Other > And the Winner--Weds! > Page 17
And the Winner--Weds! Page 17

by Robin Wells


  “It’s a pretty pricey enterprise,” Austin agreed. “That’s why we have sponsors.”

  “SeaBreeze Detergent pays for all this?”

  “Well, they’re my main sponsor. I also have a soft drink company and a tire chain. Sponsorship’s the name of the game.”

  Frannie looked at the decals that covered the cars. “How does a sponsorship work?”

  Austin grinned. “It’s pretty simple. A company pays me a huge amount of money, and I let them put their logo on my car and clothes. I also agree to do a certain number of public appearances and ads for their product. That’s what SeaBreeze was holding over my head about that TV show.”

  Frannie had no idea that racing was so involved. “Can I get a closer look at the cars?”

  “Sure.”

  He walked with her to the far end of the garage. Frannie stared as they neared the vehicles. “They don’t have any doors!”

  Austin nodded, his face creased in a huge grin. “It makes them more streamlined. We crawl in and out through the windows.”

  Frannie leaned down and peered through the window. “There’s no passenger seat, either!”

  Austin smiled. “Nope. That’s where we put the primary and secondary ignition systems.”

  Frannie gazed at the sparse interior. It looked stripped down, just dials and controls and foot pedals. “They don’t exactly look like luxury vehicles.”

  “They’re strictly built for speed,” Austin agreed.

  “What about safety?” Frannie asked.

  “Oh, there are lots of safety features.” He leaned in beside her and pointed to the black dash board. “The gauges are all extra large and easy to read. And we have a built in fire extinguishing system, padded roll bars and a shock-resistant seat.”

  “How fast do you drive?”

  “About two hundred miles per hour.”

  Frannie felt as if he were talking at that speed as he explained about engine components, using foreign words such as “bulkhead” and “crank shaft” and “bearing bosses.” Frannie didn’t understand half of what he was talking about, but she loved the way his eyes shone as he talked about the cars.

  “Do you keep track of all the publicity you get?” she finally asked.

  “Yep.” Austin led her to the side of the garage, pulled open a large drawer and extracted an enormous black folder that looked something like an artist’s portfolio. Placing it flat on a workbench, he unzipped it to reveal large, plastic pages with laminated newspaper articles inside. “My publicist sends me these. There are some great shots of the cars in action.”

  Frannie thumbed through the pages, less interested in the cars than the photos that clearly showed Austin. The book was full of them. Austin in a one-piece scarlet racing suit, holding his helmet. Austin seated inside the car. Austin holding a trophy. Austin standing between two gorgeous girls, each one kissing his cheek.

  An unfamiliar flash of jealousy stabbed through Frannie as she gazed at the photo. “I guess you have a lot of fans.”

  Austin nodded amiably. “We’ve got our share.”

  Frannie pointed to the photo of the two women. “Looks like some of them are pretty enthusiastic.”

  Austin grinned. “I guess you could say that.”

  “Do you have a lot of women fans?”

  Austin nodded and shifted his stance. “There are quite a few ladies who follow the races.”

  “Like groupies follow rock bands?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Do women throw them selves at you?”

  Austin rubbed his chin. “Some of them can be pretty persistent.” He took a step toward her, his eyes warm. “But, hey, Frannie, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  Frannie’s heart pounded hard. Were her thoughts so transparent that he could read them?

  He lifted a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “I have no interest in being a notch on some bimbo’s bedpost.”

  The statement was so blunt and outrageous that Frannie couldn’t help but laugh.

  “It’s true,” Austin said, and his eyes looked as though he meant it. “I did my share of cattin’ around a few years ago, but not anymore. It’s not worth the risk, physically or financially.”

  “What about emotionally?”

  “That has never been an issue.”

  At least he was honest, Frannie thought. She wondered if his emotions would be involved as far as she was concerned. He probably wouldn’t want them to be.

  Frannie swallowed around an unexpected lump in her throat. She didn’t want to ruin today by worrying about tomorrow. She loved him, and she wanted to experience that love to the fullest.

  She flipped another plastic page, and saw a photo of Austin pouring champagne over the heads of five smiling men. “Your crew?”

  Austin nodded and grinned. “They’re the best in the business. Those guys do all the real work. I just do the fun part.”

  “The risking-your-life part,” Frannie reminded him.

  “Yeah, but still, I just sit behind the wheel and drive. Those guys change out the tires, gas up the engine and service anything else that needs it in just sixteen seconds flat.”

  “Sixteen seconds?”

  Austin nodded. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll say.” Frannie flipped through more pages. “What actually happens at a race?”

  “Well, on Fridays, we have the qualifying rounds. The top finalists in that are the only ones who get to enter the real race. Along with the actual racing, there’s a lot of mandatory schmoozing that goes on. The sponsors bring their top clients, and we have to mingle with them at dinners and parties and what-not.”

  “Do you do something special before the race to psyche yourself up?”

  Austin shook his head. “This is the only sport where the participants don’t get much time to mentally prepare. There’s usually a big sponsorship breakfast, then photos beside the cars and last-minute schmoozing with the sponsors.” He closed the portfolio and zipped it. “There is a drivers’s prayer meeting, though, right before the race. I always go to that.”

  “Do you pray to win?”

  “Nah. I pray that nothing I do ends up hurting another person. That’s my worst fear about racing.” He put the portfolio back in the drawer, then turned back to Frannie. “And I pray to drive my best so I don’t let my team down. That’s it.”

  Frannie’s heart opened like a morning glory at dawn. She loved him, all right. How could she not?

  “You said you’ve been in some accidents.”

  Austin nodded. “It happens.”

  “An accident at two hundred miles an hour must be pretty serious.”

  He gave a short nod, then looked away and shifted his stance. “Hey, what do you say we head back to the house, pack a lunch, then saddle up a couple of horses?”

  He didn’t want anyone to care, she reminded herself, just as he didn’t want to care. He’d told her as much. His detachment was his winner’s edge. If she didn’t want to drive him away, she couldn’t let him know how deeply she’d grown to care about him.

  “Whoa, there, Charlie Horse.” Frannie pulled on the reins and leaned back in the saddle as the large roan gelding hurried toward the corral.

  Austin watched her hair gleam in the last rays of sunlight and grinned. He couldn’t remember when he’d spent a more enjoyable day. He and Frannie had ridden up a winding mountain trail and picnicked on a flat ledge that offered an expansive view of the ranch. They’d laughed and joked and talked, then talked some more. He didn’t know when he’d talked more freely, or enjoyed a woman’s company more. They’d covered anything and everything—everything, that was, except the in credible sexual attraction sizzling between them.

  Jumping down from his mount, Austin tethered his horse to the fence, then turned to help Frannie dismount. She didn’t really need the help—he’d been pleased to discover she was an experienced horsewoman. All the same, Austin wanted to be there to catch her as she climbed off h
er horse, simply because he wanted the excuse of feeling her warm, soft body against his.

  He was acting like a schoolboy, he thought ruefully, trying to find sneaky little ways of getting close to her. He’d wanted to kiss her all day, but he’d restrained himself, afraid he’d scare her off if he came on too strong. He needed to take his time. If he were smart, he’d let her make the first move.

  He’d never known waiting could be so hard. He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman as much as he wanted Frannie.

  Austin put his hands on her waist as she swung her leg over the horse and jumped down. The scent of her soft perfume filled his nostrils for a sweet, short moment, then she pulled back and rubbed her leg.

  “I haven’t been on a horse in a while, and I’m starting to feel it,” Frannie said, massaging her calf. “I think Charlie Horse has given me one.”

  “I’ve got just the cure for that. A long soak in the hot tub.”

  Frannie’s eyes grew large and round. “I—I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  “That’s okay. Tommy bought me half a dozen women’s swimsuits as a housewarming present.”

  He enjoyed the way Frannie’s mouth fell open. “Why?”

  “He said I needed to be prepared if company dropped by.”

  “Yes, but half a dozen?”

  Austin uncinched the saddle on Frannie’s horse and hauled it off the animal’s back. “I’m afraid he’s got some warped fantasies about bachelor life.” Austin shot her a grin. “He said he didn’t know what size to get, so he ended up buying every size the store carried.” Austin grinned at the memory. “He said it was his proudest moment. The salesladies were all whispering behind his back that he must have a harem.”

  The vision of the stocky, grizzled man surrounded by a bevy of bathing beauties made Frannie laugh. “So have any been worn?”

  “You’ll be the first.”

  Frannie slid the saddle blanket off her horse’s back and draped it over the corral fence. She turned and did the same with the blanket from Austin’s mount as he removed the saddle, then picked up the blankets and headed for the tack room. He followed her with the saddles.

  “Where are your curry brushes?” she asked, putting away the blankets.

  “Over there.” He indicated a shelf off to the side. Frannie picked up two of them and headed back to the horses. Austin followed, trading out the horses’s bridles for soft harnesses while Frannie groomed the horse she’d ridden.

  He liked the way she just pitched in and helped. He liked the way she talked to the horse in low, soothing tones and brushed its coat in long, smooth strokes. Heck, he liked everything about her. And the more he was around her, the more he found to like.

  He realized he was standing there like an idiot, watching her do all the work. He picked up the second brush and quickly groomed his own mount, finishing just as she did.

  “Let’s give these fellas some oats and put them out to pasture,” he said.

  He led the horses through a gate on the far side of the corral, unhitched the lead ropes and turned them loose. They ambled over to the water trough. Austin grabbed a bag of oats from inside the stable and poured it into two feed buckets. The horses eagerly trotted over and were soon head-down in the feed.

  Frannie followed Austin back to the stable as he put the oats away. “Who takes care of the horses while you’re gone?”

  “I have a husband and wife caretaker team. They’re terrific. She cleans the house, and he sees to the grounds and horses.”

  Austin and Frannie returned to the tack room to put away the brushes and hang up the bridles. Austin locked the door as they left, then turned to Frannie.

  “How’s your leg? Can you walk back to the house?”

  “Oh, sure. It’s just a little stiff, that’s all.”

  Austin stifled his disappointment. He’d been hoping she’d need to be carried. “Well, a soak in the tub should fix that right up.”

  “Considering that I now smell like Charlie Horse, a soak is probably a good idea.”

  The thought of Frannie in a swimsuit made Austin break a sweat. He was already in hot water where she was concerned, and he wasn’t anywhere near the hot tub.

  The sun was setting behind the mountain ridge out the west window as Frannie stood in the yellow guest room, holding the can of beer Austin had handed her as they’d passed through the kitchen. She gazed at the assortment of tiny bikinis in the dresser drawer in dismay. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, lifting out a tiny white thong.

  Austin had guided her to the guest room and told her where to find the swimsuits. He’d shown her where the towels were kept, and pointed out the adjacent bathroom. He’d told her everything she needed to know, except that Tommy’s taste in ladies’ bathing suits ran from skimpy to barely there.

  Frannie pulled out a hot pink bikini top and stared at it. The bra cups were approximately the size of her head. Oh, dear, she certainly hoped these sizes didn’t indicate Austin’s usual taste in women, or he was going to be sorely disappointed.

  Frannie took a long swig of beer, then pawed through the drawer until she found a black string bikini that appeared to be her size. It was far more daring than anything she’d ever worn—just two little triangles of fabric up top, and a scant amount of cloth on the bottom that tied together at the hips. The only good thing about it was that at least it wasn’t a thong.

  Taking another long draught of beer for courage, Frannie scrambled out of her clothes and into the swimsuit. It took two more long sips before she worked up the nerve to look at herself in the mirror.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured. It was a shock, seeing herself so scantily clad. And the really shocking thing was, she looked…great.

  She turned to one side and then the other, staring at her image. Maybe the beer was blurring her vision—after all, she wasn’t much of a drinker. Or maybe it was her new haircut, or the fact she was wearing her contacts. Whatever it was, she sure didn’t look like the plain Jane she’d always assumed herself to be.

  She looked attractive. And desirable. Seductive, even.

  The thought sent a rush of heat coursing through her. Oh, dear. What would Austin think? She was too shy to just stroll out there in front of him, wearing only this! It was scantier than her most daring underwear. Looking around, she grabbed her denim shirt and put it on over the bikini, buttoning it nearly to the neck. Rapidly swallowing the rest of her beer, she took a deep breath and headed down the hallway.

  She found Austin standing in the kitchen, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his shirtless chest. Good heavens, his body was even better than she’d imagined. His biceps were large, his pectorals well-defined, his chest covered with dark hair that narrowed to an enticing line that disappeared into his waistband.

  She suddenly realized she was gawking at him. She pulled her eyes away from his chest to find him gazing at her with amusement. “Want another beer?”

  She probably shouldn’t, Frannie thought. She was already feeling a little tipsy from the first one, but it was helping to take the edge off her nervousness. “Sure,” she said.

  Austin popped the top on the can and handed it to her, his eyes on her legs. He glanced up, his gaze appreciative. Frannie fiddled self-consciously with the top button of her shirt, feeling practically naked.

  He picked up a stack of towels he’d placed on the kitchen counter, then led the way through the French doors of the living room out onto the deck. He’d turned on the whirlpool as soon as they’d headed back to the house, and now steam was rising in the cool twilight air.

  He set the towels on a padded chaise longue. “Can I take your shirt?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, feeling as skittish as a colt. “I—I think I’ll keep it on for a while. It’s starting to get chilly.”

  “The tub is heated,” he pointed out.

  “I’ll wear it anyway.”

  Austin looked at her as if he were wondering if she was wearing anything under
it. “Didn’t you find a swimsuit that fit?”

  “Yes. If those tiny scraps of fabric actually qualify as swimsuits.”

  Austin grinned. “I’m afraid Tommy belongs to the less-is-more school of thinking when it comes to women’s apparel.”

  “What about you?”

  His grin deepened. “It depends on who’s doing the wearing.”

  A shiver chased through her. He seemed to notice. “Let’s get in the water where it’s nice and warm.” He stepped into the tub and held out his hand. She gingerly took it and stepped in with him.

  The water was warm, very warm, and turbulent. Just as he made her feel inside.

  Austin stepped down further, then motioned to the ledge. “Have a seat.”

  She sat where a water jet bubbled against her back. With water covering her up to the chest, she felt herself relax. “Oh, this feels great.”

  Austin held out his hands. “Give me your sore leg.”

  Frannie turned sideways and gingerly placed her calf in his lap. His thigh felt hard and muscular, and his fingers on her skin sent quivers of heat racing up her leg. She nervously took another long pull on her beer.

  He gently kneaded her muscle. “You have beautiful legs.”

  “Thanks. Yours are pretty nice, too.”

  Mortified at what she’d just said, she took another long drink. Austin laughed. “Frannie, are you getting tipsy?”

  “I’m getting a bit of a buzz,” she admitted. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “Well, now is not the time to turn into one.” Austin took her beer and placed it on the deck, out of her reach, then shifted closer so that both of her thighs now rested on top of his. “I want you to know exactly what you’re doing tonight.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “Darned if I know.” He slowly massaged her calf, his fingers both strong and gentle. “But I want you to be in complete control of your faculties.”

  It was hard to be in control of her faculties around him—especially when she was wearing practically nothing under her shirt, and his hands were rubbing her leg so erotically. Yet he said he wanted her to be.

 

‹ Prev