by Dee J. Adams
Mac tipped his head to the side. “I hadn’t really planned—”
“You hadn’t planned on it, right. Okay fine. I don’t plan on staying to run it, Mac, so you tell me what you want to do.” The seconds ticked by and silence stretched out. The hesitation in Mac’s eyes could’ve meant a couple of different things. Quinn didn’t dare take a guess.
“Just stick it out for a couple more years and—”
“Years!” Quinn stretched his arms wide. “Years! I’m wasting my life in a place I don’t want to live, with a job I hate, and you want me to give it another couple of years?” Quinn headed to the door, too furious to keep talking to his brother without punching him. “I’m done Mac. If you don’t agree to sell then you can ship your ass back to London and run the place.”
Mac stopped him with a hand around his arm. “Quinn, it can’t be that bad. You’ve done a great job. We both know it. You made the company what it is today in two years. I couldn’t do it in the eight years I was there.”
Turning, Quinn snatched his arm free. “You know it was Kurt Densmore.” Kurt Densmore, who had disappeared off the face of the earth. But he’d left behind a gold mine for Formula Racing Design and all the notes and technology that went along with it.
“But you hired him, Quinn. You saw the guy’s credentials and gave him the job and he did it under your watch. It’s your victory. Don’t you want to hang around to enjoy it? Watch how it shapes the industry, the sport?”
“I don’t know how to get it in your head. I don’t care about racing, or cars. Racing might have been Dad’s thing and your thing, but no one ever seemed to care that it isn’t my thing. I know this is hard for you to understand, Mac, and you just don’t get it. I’m not doing it anymore. I did my job. I went to school, I paid my dues, I ran your company, I—”
“Our company, Quinn. Dad left it to both of us.”
“Fine. Our company. Then you come back and run it because I’m through. You tell me when you’re ready to talk about selling, or be prepared to fly back to London in a week, because I’ve done my part. I’ve put up with your eight thousand phone calls a month checking on every little detail and I’m not doing it anymore. We’re going to decide this before I leave so you’d better find more than thirty seconds to fit me in your schedule.” Quinn shut the trailer door behind him. Probably a little harder than necessary, but he didn’t care. Maybe it would give Mac something to think about.
Quinn’s nerves were stretched to the limit. He was so uptight he wouldn’t have been surprised if his head came off his shoulders. The aggravation of Gerhardt showing his face pissed him off royally and he couldn’t seem to tamp down the anger bubbling to the surface.
His sister-in-law came around the corner of the trailer. Her unmistakable midnight-black hair gleamed in the sunlight. “Hey, Quinn, how’s Elle doing?” she asked. “I saw you walking her out…” Trace smiled. “Or should I say carrying her out?”
There was another subject that got his hackles up. Quinn exhaled a hard breath and kept control. He ignored Trace’s last comment. “She seems okay, but I’m not too convinced. I can’t believe these guys let her go without calling a doctor or EMT.”
“They seem to know what they’re doing,” Trace said. “We can call her later and see how she is.”
“Yeah. I plan to.” Before he did that, he had another stop to make. What the hell? He was pissed off enough. Why hold it all in? Quinn said goodbye to Trace and headed toward the track.
As the sun glinted off the lights set up for the next shot, he kept his eyes peeled for Ellie’s boss. How could he and the director let Ellie go without being checked out by a doctor? Did they care about her at all? He spotted the stunt coordinator, Mark, and headed in his direction. Tapped the guy’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Mark’s brows pulled together as he assessed Quinn. They stood eye to eye and Mark didn’t look any happier than Quinn felt. “Do I know you?” The edge in his voice dripped a warning.
But warnings had never scared him before. “Quinn Reynolds. I’m a friend of Elle’s. You got a sec?”
Mark huffed a breath and looked at the guys on his crew. “Be right back.” He walked next to Quinn and stopped not too far away from his buddies. “What’s up? I’ve got work to do.”
Quinn didn’t bother meeting his gaze. Instead he looked off into the empty grandstands. “Yeah, obviously. And apparently it’s more important than someone on your team.”
Standing taller, Mark took the words as the insult Quinn intended. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
This time, Quinn met his gaze. “I mean that Elle should’ve been checked out by a doctor. She plainly hurt her foot and you didn’t even look at it. You just—”
“Stop right there, pal.” Mark put a hand out, finger in the air. Quinn wanted to rip it off his hand. “How long have you known Elle?” he asked.
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“How long have you known her? I’ve never seen you before this week, so how long have you known her?” Mark’s eyes spit fire.
“It shouldn’t matter how long I’ve known her because—”
“Bullshit,” Mark said. “I’ve known her eight years. I’ve seen her go through eight years of stunts and eight years of injuries. I’ve seen her work through the pain because she never knew when or where the next job was coming from and she needed the money. What she did today is no different than any of us—” he gestured to the guys behind him “—would’ve done. Elle is one of the toughest and smartest stuntwomen I’ve ever worked with. If she needed medical attention, she would’ve said so. I trust my crew to be honest with their assessment of their own bodies. We all deal with pain. We all deal with injuries. I don’t treat Elle any differently than I do the rest of my team and she knows that.” Mark’s lips curled up in a sneer. “Anything else?”
Fuck. Quinn wanted to deck him. Or someone. Frustration boiled from his gut, even more so because he couldn’t blame Mark. “No,” he said quietly, forcing down the rage. “Nothing else.” He stalked away. He had to respect the guy for treating Ellie like an equal and that pissed him off more. Or maybe he was angry because Mark knew Ellie better than he did. Goddammit, he’d just met her. Why did he feel like this? Maybe because he was just frickin’ jealous.
Why should that word come up? Why would he be jealous of the stunt coordinator? He’d never used the word regarding a woman. He’d been jealous of people who lived their own lives, people who didn’t have to account to anyone but the person staring back at them in the mirror. But to be jealous of a man’s relationship with a woman…
Too much had happened today and it all had Quinn off balance. He couldn’t stick around any longer…especially since he’d done all the talking with Mac he could stomach. Not to mention no chance of seeing Ellie. He headed to the limousine where Fido had set up a chair and was reading a book. Seeing Quinn coming in fast, Fido folded up his chair, shoved it in the trunk and hightailed it to open the backseat door.
“Where to, Mr. Reynolds?”
Good question. He had no idea. He really wanted to find Ellie, but he couldn’t follow her around like a stray mutt. “Back to the hotel,” he said, sliding into the seat. “I’m not sitting here the rest of the day.”
“Yes, sir.”
He still couldn’t get used to being called Mr. Reynolds and sir. “Fido, you gotta call me Quinn. My dad was Mr. Reynolds.”
“Gotcha.” Fido smiled, closed the door and went around to the driver’s side.
Of course, Mac was also “Mr. Reynolds.” Mac, who thought he could railroad Quinn one more time into living the life Mac had picked for him. Not this time. He’d give his brother the rest of the day and night to think about what he’d said before talking to him tomorrow.
One overturned semi and four frickin’ hours later, Quinn got to his room, keyed up and still pissed. He changed and headed to the hotel gym to work off the steam. Mac, Ellie, Gerhardt
and traffic…everything had his head spinning.
Then it hit him. What if Ellie had been stuck in the same traffic? What if she hadn’t gotten ice on her foot or had it elevated for four long hours? Worry crept up where anger had been. Maybe he should check on her? Mark had said she was smart and would’ve admitted if the injury was serious. But that wasn’t good enough for Quinn. Not today. As the worry ate at his gut, he did more reps on the weights, more sit-ups on the incline bench. He pushed himself to the limit.
Back in his room, showered and freshly shaved, he couldn’t stand the uncertainty anymore. He picked up the phone, punched in Ellie’s number, but got rolled over to voice mail. Shit. He disconnected and called his driver. “Hey, Fido. It’s Quinn. Can you bring the car around in ten?”
“Sure. Are we headed someplace special?”
Damn straight they were.
Shifting on the sofa, Ellie repositioned the ice on her foot. She’d had it elevated and iced all day, nipping the swelling in the bud before her foot ballooned to zeppelin size. Her stomach grumbled for the tenth time. “I know, I know,” she said to the empty room and her rumbling tummy. “Ashley will be here in twenty minutes with dinner and I’ll feed you.” Her stomach growled again in response and she checked her watch. “C’mon, Ash.” She hadn’t eaten anything substantial since breakfast. Ashley had said she was going to the market on her way home today because the only thing in the fridge was her coveted Dr Peppers. God forbid they should ever run out of Dr Pepper.
Ellie had set herself up on the sofa facing the glass slider doors to the small courtyard of their apartment building. After a good cry and release of all the frustration of the day, she’d felt better. The peaceful view of swaying trees in the distance and the wonderfully cool apartment had relaxed her until she’d drifted into the kind of nap she normally only dreamed about. Then she’d dreamed of Quinn. Of being in his arms, of touching more than just those outrageous biceps. Kissing more than just his delicious lips.
Voices grew louder outside the door. Sounded as if Ashley had finally made it home. Their neighbor, Mr. Folsom, must have sidetracked her. At eighty-five, the man sat next to his front door and stopped anyone and everyone who passed by.
She counted the seconds until she heard the key in the door. If Ashley were already here then she hadn’t stopped off at the market, which meant food would have to wait a little longer. The door squeaked open. “Hey, Ash,” she said with a quick glance over her shoulder. A blinding afternoon sun glared out the door and she looked away. “Please tell me you picked up something. I’m so hungry I was about to start eating the sofa.”
“Uh, Elle,” Ashley sounded reproachful, as though she didn’t have dinner of any kind. It wasn’t as though Ellie expected her roommate to be at her beck and call. Ashley worked long and hard all day too.
“It’s okay, but we didn’t even have any granola bars left or cereal or anything. I’ll love you forever if you run out and get me a burger, a taco… anything.” She heard Ashley drop her briefcase on the table.
“I don’t think that’s—”
“I know it’s not healthy,” Ellie admitted, “but I don’t care. I’ll do anything you want for the next week. The next month.” She’d wash her car, do all the laundry, the dishes, whatever.
There was a little pause before Ashley chuckled. “Really? Does that go for just me or for anyone who might bring you food?”
“At this point, if the Elephant Man brought me food, I’d be his love slave.”
Ashley laughed, but it was the kind of sound that Ellie had learned to be leery of. The kind of laugh that said, “I know something you don’t know and I’m not going to tell you.” Complete with the singsong voice and adolescent attitude.
“Looks like things are looking up for me,” a low voice said.
Quinn! What the hell… Why?
Ellie spun around. The sudden pounding in her heart coincided with instant dry mouth. There was Ashley with her hands clasped innocently behind her back. Quinn stood next to her, a grin the size of Texas splitting his face. He held three bags from In-N-Out—and no one made better burgers than In-N-Out—and a pizza box. Wearing worn, faded jeans and a crisp white T-shirt that stretched across his biceps, he looked as good as the food smelled. Her parched mouth suddenly watered fiercely. Whether from the food or Quinn, she wasn’t sure.
“I found him coming up the walk,” Ashley said, taking the box and bags from Quinn and setting them on the table. “He told me about your day. How’s the foot?”
As they came over, she scrambled to sit up. Both peered down at her. She felt extremely self-conscious in a pair of short shorts and a tank top. “Foot’s fine.” She looked up at Quinn, desperate to stay calm and cool. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious she’d been crying. “What are you doing here?”
“He was worried about you,” Ashley said, heading to her bedroom. “He brought your dinner. Glad I decided to come home first and change. Be right out.” She disappeared behind her door.
The smell of In-N-Out had Ellie licking her lips in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into a perfect burger and salty fries. She looked at the bags longingly.
“Now if I could only get you to look at me that way,” Quinn said.
She met his gaze. He didn’t seem to be joking. “Ha, ha. I’ll get some glasses and plates.” She went to stand, but Quinn stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. His warm palm nearly seared her skin. The contact lingered as he dragged his fingertips across her bare shoulder and sent goose bumps rising along her flesh.
“Relax,” he said softly. “I’ll get it.” He headed to the kitchen.
Breathe, breathe. All she had to do was breathe calmly. Evenly. She didn’t have to let Quinn get to her.
And she was kidding who with this train of thought?
Breaking the land-speed record for changing, Ashley emerged from her room in denim cutoff shorts, a halter top and her hair spilling across her shoulders in light blond waves. Before passing Ellie, she gave her that wide-eyed look that said “Gorgeous man in the house!” She helped Quinn in the kitchen with plates and drinks, and the three of them converged at the dining room table.
“I didn’t know what you’d want,” Quinn said, “so I got two cheeseburgers and two regular burgers.”
“And a pizza,” Ashley said. Then she added, “A man after my own heart,” but she looked at Ellie when she said it. That was silent roommate-speak for “Take him to bed already.” After ten years, Ellie was good at the language. Ashley took the head of the table, and Quinn and Ellie each flanked her. Burgers were distributed, as was water and Dr Pepper. Naturally.
“You seem to be doing okay,” Quinn said, unwrapping his first burger, his hands dwarfing it. He had another one on his plate.
Ellie forced her gaze to her own burger. “I told you I was fine earlier.”
He shrugged. “I know. I just wanted to check.” He took an enormous bite and groaned in satisfaction. Pointing to the burger, he made a thumbs-up sign.
Ellie couldn’t help but smile. The guy was damn hard to resist. She took a bite of her own meal and closed her eyes. Instant gratification. She opened her eyes and caught Quinn watching her. Instant gratification worked in so many ways. She probably could have it with Quinn if she wasn’t such a chicken. Chicken to give herself. But giving herself always turned into so much more than simply physical pleasure. She couldn’t afford that with a man who didn’t plan on sticking around. Besides, she was too chicken to fall in love and way too chicken to share her secrets again.
Looking into his eyes, she realized that each and every one of those things was too ridiculous to consider after one date.
He blinked, looked away and continued chewing his food. “I was afraid you got stuck in the traffic jam,” he said after swallowing. Then he popped a fry in his mouth.
She shook her head. “It must’ve happened behind me. I made it home in great time.” Enough time to dream about him all afternoon. Plenty of time to let
his net worth sink deep into her brain.
“Sounds as if you got stuck in it though,” Ashley said to Quinn.
Nodding, he took another bite and rolled his eyes. He took a swig of soda to wash it down. “I don’t know how you guys deal with that kind of traffic. It’s unhealthy.”
“Have to agree with that,” Ashley said, sipping her Dr Pepper.
Ellie had a different take on it. “I figure it’s the price we pay for beautiful weather three hundred days a year. It can’t all be sunshine and roses. God made the traffic to balance it out.”
Quinn lifted a skeptical brow and wiped his lips with a paper napkin. “You forgot the earthquakes. That’s two things that tip the scale…big time.” He slanted his chin toward her. “So how’s the foot feel? Looks like you’ve been taking care of it.”
Is that what really brought him here? He was worried about her? Or was that his excuse to keep trying for skin time? Frustration crawled up Ellie’s spine. On the other hand, what if he was checking up on her per Trace’s request? What if word got back to Mark that her injury was more serious than she’d let on? “It’s fine. How many times do I have to say it?”
“Ellie,” Ashley scolded. “He’s only being nice. Don’t be a snot.”
“Can I take a look at it?” Quinn’s expression hadn’t changed. Those light eyes were completely serious and full of concern and compassion.
“Yeah, I want to see it too,” Ashley said.
Ellie looked from one face to the other. Ashley’s new alliance with Quinn shouldn’t have surprised her, but she didn’t like the odds. What happened to the two of them against the world? “Nothing like being ganged up on.”
“We’re not ganging up on you. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” Ashley took another sip of her drink. “Besides, the only reason you wouldn’t show us is if something’s wrong and you knew you’d get in trouble. If it’s fine, then you won’t have any problem letting us see it.”
Damn Ashley for knowing her so well. That’s what she got for confiding every detail to her best friend. The stiff smile Ellie gave Ashley only garnered her a beautiful grin and batted lashes over aqua-blue eyes.