“Roger,” she repeated again.
Damn. She was like the sexy computer-generated voice on action movies. Maybe that was the attraction, he thought. It was the voice.
“Here we go,” he warned as he came out of turn. He waited until he crossed the start/finish line before mashing the pedal.
He damn near lifted the front wheels off the ground.
“Shit,” he muttered. It seemed he was at turn one in record time, having spotted the race track’s main groove on his previous laps. The car slid low, responding to his commands beautifully.
Impressive.
He liked the way the Callie’s X-TREME Machine seemed to hug the curves with minimal effort on his part. Quick. Efficient. No lurching or bouncing around. Whoever had done the initial setup had done a terrific job.
He took it up another notch.
In the blink of an eye he was at turn three. Again, the car performed perfectly. Yeah, it might be a little on the tight side, but that might go away if he ran her a few more laps.
“How’s she feeling?”
Though she undoubtedly tried to hide it, Derrick could hear the edginess in her voice made all the more pronounced by the near monotone she’d been using before.
“Horrible,” he teased. “Like crap.”
“What’s wrong?” came immediately back, her voice having raised a notch.
He chuckled, opened the mic midway through his laugh. “I’m kidding, Callie. She feels great.”
He’d found the rhythm now. It wasn’t hard. Unfortunately, the tightness problem never went away.
“I’m going to bring her in.”
“You’re too tight, aren’t you?” Callie asked.
He smiled, his cheeks bumping into the side of his helmet. “You noticed.”
“Hard to miss. We’ll do some tweaking on the suspension.”
“Good, because I have no idea what to tell you to do. I’m going at this blind here.”
“We know, but this’ll give us a chance to look the car over too. You might as well crawl out for a moment.”
“You got it.”
He pointed the car down pit road, tempted to give the wheel a few jerks left and right. He enjoyed the way the car handled. If they could easily fix the problem and, conversely, fix the vehicle when it got loose, they might really have something on their hands. Something that felt like a stock car, but wasn’t. That would be fun to drive. And fast. He couldn’t wait to see what it felt like on a super speedway.
He braked suddenly.
Super speedway?
Yep. He couldn’t wait to drive the X-TREME Machine on a two-and-a-half mile track.
The silence when he cut the engine nearly deafened him. Callie watched as he came around the front, the eyes behind the glasses seeming to glow. Those eyes of her—so expressive—conveyed what her voice had partially revealed. She was ecstatic. That excitement lit up her entire face.
He pulled off his helmet, tugged the buds out of his ear.
“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” She dropped the net.
“Pretty fast if your face is any indication.”
“You just shaved seconds off the track record.”
“Sweet.” He worked the catches on his harness.
“That’s amazing.”
He slipped out of the car the moment he was free, pulling apart his firesuit at the same time. “Just wait until we get her dialed in.”
“I know,” When he turned, it was in time to catch her bouncing up and down on her toes, like a child in front of a toy store window. Jubilant. Thrilled.
Delightful.
“You done good, Callie.”
“Thank you so much.” She had a wide smile on her face.
To his shock, she busted through the barrier of her professionalism to give him a hug. He held her a moment, their time together last night coming back to him. He knew then he was kidding himself. If he signed onto the X-TREME Racing League it wouldn’t be because of the cars, it would because of her.
Callie knew she should step away, that she shouldn’t keep holding him, but she just couldn’t seem to let him go. Her wildest fantasies had come true. Derrick Derringer had driven one of her cars and liked it. No, loved it.
“Thank you,” she gushed, drawing back and hoping he didn’t feel her hands shake. “Thank you so much.”
“No,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her face, a small smile crooking up the side of his mouth. “Thank you.”
She wanted to kiss him.
It shocked her how hard she had to fight the urge to lift herself up on her tippy-toes and caress his lips with her own.
She let him go instead.
“Seriously, Derrick.” She had to look away from his soul-probing stare. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“You can thank me later.” His voice had turned so soft it caused her to look him in the eye again.
“Derrick—”
“Mr. Derringer, how’d the car feel?”
They both jerked apart.
“Jim Brown, Racing Sports News. Looks like you’ve got yourself quite a car here.” The man held a reporter’s pad in front of him. Jim Brown was short as he was wide. His bald forehead was already sweating in the afternoon sun.
Callie glanced at Derrick, her heart instantly dropping. Gone was the smile, the soft eyes, the gentle expression.
“What’s he doing here?” he asked.
“I have no idea. This is a closed session.”
The man looked between Callie and Derrick in confusion, pen and paper in hand. “That’s not what I heard.” He lifted a brow. “I was told I’d be given an exclusive.”
“Excuse me,” Callie asked.
“Is your name Callie Monroe? That’s who I was told to see.”
“By who?” Callie demanded.
“I was under the impression you were the one who called.” The man flushed. “That’s the name I have on record.”
Derrick turned toward her, and while he didn’t look accusatory, he didn’t look pleased, either. “What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know.” She splayed her hands. “Maybe Veronica—”
Because that’s who’d done it. Nobody else would have had the guts to go against Derrick’s wishes. She could just envision Veronica making the call—all in the name of publicity—and then using Callie’s name as a way of confusing matters in case Derrick got angry.
“Veronica Adams?” the reporter asked. “Is she around? I’d love to hear how she came up with the concept of the X-TREME Racing league.”
Callie heard her jaw pop, realized she’d ground her teeth together, and immediately forced herself to smile. “Actually, no, she’s not here.” And that’s a good thing because I’d kill her if she was. “And Derrick isn’t supposed to be here, either. He flew in as a special favor.”
It was the lie she’d come up with earlier, the one she’d formulated to save her bacon in case someone talked. With the gag order she’d had everyone sign, she hadn’t expected to use it.
“He’s an old friend,” she added quickly. “And so when he offered to test our cars for us, I jumped at the chance. But he’s in no way associated with the X-TREME Racing League. I want to make that clear.”
“Really?” the middle-aged man lifted his brows again, and Callie could tell he didn’t believe her pre-fabricated lie.
“He’s actually really helping me out. We had no way of knowing how the cars would perform and so Derrick’s acting as a sort of, um, as a test pilot, if you will. Working the bugs out. That’s why he’s here early.”
“I see,” the man nodded, and Callie was relieved he took down notes.
“Derrick,” he said when he was finished, “do you mind giving me your thoughts on the vehicle?”
“Sure.”
“But first I’d like to know how long you’ve known Callie, and what are you, Callie, exactly? Some type of engineer?”
It was warm outside, but the question had Callie feeling hotter
under the collar. “Something like that,” she hedged.
“She’s the one who came up with the concept of a racing league.” Derrick took a step toward the man at the same time he released the Velcro sealing his firesuit closed. To her chagrin he peeled it down, revealing a tank top beneath that showed off his perfectly sculpted shoulders.
Oh my.
“Veronica Adams might claim ownership of the league, but it was Callie who conceived the concept, engineered the cars, blue-printed the motors. She’s a genius.”
“Is that how you met? Through race cars?”
“Yes.” Callie tossed Derrick a grateful smile. “Derrick and I share a passion for cars.” That much, at least, was true.
“So you think the idea has merit.” The guy looked at Derrick. “This X-TREME Racing League.”
Callie glanced over at him, unsure why she did so, except she needed to hear his answer.
“I think it’s an idea whose time has come.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“Does that mean you’re interested in jumping ship?”
Derrick lifted his hands. “Whoa. I didn’t say that. I just think that based on what I’ve seen here, people have a real treat in store.”
Callie was still giddy over his earlier comment.
I think it’s an idea whose time has come.
Did that mean he was considering driving for them? She tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to supervise the changes.”
He nodded, sparing her hardly a glance as he spoke to the reporter about her cars, the drivers slated to test the cars this coming weekend, and anything else Jim Brown could come up with. It took them only a moment to fix Derrick’s car, but when they were finished, she was hesitant to approach. She hung back for a moment, observing the perfection that was Derrick. Okay, all right, she could admit how completely infatuated she was with the man. Now there he was, standing back, talking to a reporter, and from what she could hear, singing her praises. Her heart tumbled.
“Derrick,” she called. “We’re ready for you.”
“Be right there.”
He didn’t immediately look away. He’d moved to the shade since sliding out of the car, the sun blocked by the ramp that hung over him. Their gazes held. Callie felt like a horse pranced on her chest. It made in nearly impossible to breathe. She smiled, though she didn’t know why. Best not to encourage such a potent playboy as Mr. Derringer. Still, her heart sang when he grinned back.
She had it bad. At this rate she might find herself between a rock and a hard spot. Derrick’s hard spot.
Would that be a bad thing?
She admitted that maybe it wouldn’t be. Maybe she was over-thinking this whole thing. Maybe she should let nature take its course.
Maybe she should jump Derrick.
Chapter Eleven
The rest of the day went as smoothly as the morning, even though Derrick was never completely comfortable with a reporter in sight.
Damn that Veronica.
Even though he had no proof it was her who’d tipped off Jim Brown, he would bet his new Rolex it was. Everyone knew what a publicity hog Veronica the Pirahnica was. It stood to reason she’d completely ignore the gag order everyone was under and then do whatever the hell she wanted to do. Callie’s quick thinking had saved his ass, although they were doomed if Jim decided to do a little research into her claims.
“How does she feel out there?”
He smiled, enjoying the easy way they worked together. “Terrific. I think you have a real winner here, Callie.”
Though he couldn’t see her face what with the track whizzing by, he could hear the smile in her voice. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
They’d spent all day toying with the X-TREME Machine. A little tweak here and a bit of a tweak there and he felt confident the car was dialed in. When the other drivers arrived they could slip into Callie’s vehicles confident they had a tried and true machine.
“Gonna call it a day unless you think there’s more we can do.”
“I think we’re good.”
Although to be honest, he was almost sorry to pull in. The reporter who’d surprised them had left a couple of hours ago, Derrick hoping to God the man didn’t use the Derrick Derringer About to Jump Ship angle for his article on XRL. He would have to come clean to his PR manager, that’s for sure. Maybe together they could come up with an angle to spin his defection into something positive.
Was he going to defect?
He pulled in, spotted the excitement on Callie’s face—on everyone’s face. It was hard not to pick up on that enthusiasm. It seemed lately everything about stock car racing had become so political, so ho-hum, almost stymied. He hated that he always had to watch what he said. That he was forced to drive at speeds far slower than the cars could travel. That bumping and nudging were a thing of the past. These days you couldn’t tap some guy’s bumper without media backlash. He hated that.
Things would be different in XRL, Callie had assured him. As he slipped out of his car he realized he wanted that…almost as badly as he wanted Callie in his bed.
She greeted him as she had earlier, with a smile on her face, although not with a hug. That he would have to squeeze out of her himself, but not right now. No. He needed to hang back. To play his cards right, because the more he got to know her, the more convinced he became that she was someone he needed to date. She might have a hard time believing that fact, but he would have to convince her.
So he pretended indifference. She did too. When the time came to leave, he said a polite goodbye to everyone—including Callie. She shook his hand, expressed her gratitude with sincerity shining from her eyes, but that was it.
He went straight to the hotel she was supposed to have stayed in last night, which, he’d learned was the same hotel her crew was staying at. He’d unearthed that little tidbit of information earlier in the day, although he wished he could whisk her back to the bed and breakfast. Since he was supposed to have flown in this morning and then out this evening, he’d given his room up, but if things went as he planned…
He knew it was a bold move. Some might even call it stalker-like. Truth be told, however, he hadn’t gotten to where he was today by taking a backseat to anyone or anything.
The hotel she’d selected for the team’s stay in Kansas City was decidedly low-key, right off a freeway, and set amongst a bazillion other hotels and restaurants. The sound of highway traffic assaulted his ears the moment he left the car. It was one of those places with balconies on the outside and two floors of rooms. An assortment of vehicles sat outside: Pick-ups, passenger cars with luggage piled on top, construction trucks. He doubted she’d have gotten any sleep if she’d stayed there the previous evening. It was loud, even to his ears.
“Do you have any rooms available?” he asked the woman behind the counter.
“Let me check.” The blonde glanced in his direction.
She did a double take.
Derrick knew what was coming next. “You race cars!”
He smiled politely. It was always the same. Actually, that wasn’t true. Sometimes he got the “I know you from someplace” speech. Usually he smiled and said he got that a lot, but some people were more persistent than others, running through a gamut of options all geared toward trying to solve the mystery of exactly how they knew him.
Derrick never had the heart to tell them he was famous. That sounded so pretentious.
More often than not, however, people like the gal behind the counter—Gloria according to her name badge—recognized him right away. So there was nothing he could say but, “I do.”
“Are you here with that X-TREME racing thing?” She smiled, and Derrick admitted the woman was attractive. A few months ago he might have smiled back, but today all he did was shake his head. “Not really,” he shrugged. “I’m good friends with the team’s Vice President of Development.”
“Oh, yeah?” The woman’s green eyes filled with an interest impossible to mistake.
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“Yeah.” He gave her a polite smile. “Really, really good friends,” he said, hoping Gloria caught his drift, even though that “drift” wasn’t exactly the truth. “She’ll be a guest here tonight. Callie Monroe. I don’t suppose you have a room close to hers, do you?”
Oh, yeah. Gloria got it. Like the snuffing of a flame, Gloria’s eyes flickered out. “Oh, ah. Sure. Let me look.”
She tapped on some buttons. Derrick turned away. The lobby was tiny compared to the luxury hotels, the management apparently fond of silk trees. They’d been placed in every corner.
“Hmm. Looks like the X-TREME Racing League has a whole block of rooms reserved. So unless your friend gives you one of those, the closet I can do is the room directly below hers.”
“That’ll work.” With any luck he wouldn’t even need the bed.
“Can I see a credit card and driver’s license?” she asked.
Derrick did as instructed, turning away as she tapped the keyboard once again. He didn’t want Callie to see him checking in, so if she drove up, he planned on making a quick exit.
Then what?
He huffed a breath of silent laughter because he had no clue what he would do. This wasn’t his usually MO. Usually, women pursued him—like Gloria. For the first time in a long, long while he would actually have to think this through.
Flowers?
He shook his head. She didn’t seem the type.
Dinner?
That was an option, but she’d probably say no. So what did that leave?
As it turned out, he had ample time to think about it. She didn’t make an appearance at the hotel until a couple of hours later. The sun had begun to set as she pulled up in a rental car she must have secured on her way to the hotel. Once again, she looked exhausted, although that might be a trick of the florescent lights buzzing into existence above their heads. She didn’t slip out of the car and trek slowly to her room. No. The moment her feet touched ground she headed back across the parking lot, on foot, toward the restaurant located next to the hotel.
He knew what he would do then, waited until she was out of sight before following in her footsteps. It was one of those chain things, the kind with the same menu no matter which state you happened to be in. Even the smell was the same from state-to-state. The moment he opened the door he caught a whiff of bacon and eggs.
Burning Rubber: Extreme Racing, Book 2 Page 9