Total Control

by Pamela Britton

  “I’m not returning you to your hotel looking like that.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It is to me,” he said. “I don’t want to have to explain to Benjamin that I ruined his favorite person’s dress.”

  It was on the tip of Indi’s tongue to argue further, but he had a point. She’d hate for Benjamin to think she’d had a less than perfect night.

  So she waited. With any luck Benjamin would never know.

  “Here’s the car,” Todd said a few moments later. “Get in before that woman snaps a picture of you in all your greasy glory.”

  Indi saw that it was true. They were about to have their photo taken. Darn it. She got in, but not before her eyes were blinded by a flash.

  Oh, great.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE HAD TO BE the most stubborn individual he’d ever met, Todd thought, sliding onto the seat next to her in the back of the SUV. And she smelled like an Italian restaurant.

  “Don’t you get tired of it?”

  He shrugged, glancing out the window. “You take the good with the bad.” But the truth was the only thing that kept him sane was escaping once in a while, out on the racetrack.

  “Besides,” he added, “I’m not really famous. Not like actors and actresses are. Half the time, when I’m away from the track, people don’t recognize me. Or if they do, they think I’m a long-lost cousin. Or an old friend. I’m constantly asked what school I went to and where I grew up.”

  Her lashes lowered. Todd knew she studied him intently. “I used to get that, too. When I was a sportscaster.”

  “Wait a second. You did sports?”

  She lifted that small chin of hers. “I was the first female sports broadcaster in our station’s history.”

  “And that’s where you formed your opinion of athletes?”

  “Partly.”

  And he hadn’t helped improve that opinion in the beginning, Todd admitted, although he was trying to make it up to her. “What made you quit broadcasting?”

  He saw her tense. She looked away. “This and that.”

  He waited for her to expand on the comment. But she didn’t. “That’s overnight parking,” he said, when he followed her gaze. “For race fans.”

  The track provided enough ambient light that one could perfectly see the revelry going on inside. RVs that were too numerous to count, each of them bearing the standard of their favorite driver, sponsor or car manufacturer, were parked tail to tail or nose to nose. Some fans had set up the accoutrements of home outside their vehicles—couches, televisions, even bars complete with bar stools.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “That’s nothing,” Todd said. “You should see Daytona.”

  She sat back again, Todd wondering if she’d even realized how close she’d come to him. So close that her eyes had looked as green as a race flag when she looked at him next.

  “You must feel like a god sometimes.”

  “No,” he immediately countered. “I feel more like a puppet.” And it surprised him to admit as much, at least to her. But she was easy to talk to now that she wasn’t slinging barbs.

  “How so?”

  “The demands on my time are too numerous. I’m always running from one engagement to another. And if I’m not making public appearances, I’m doing other things on behalf of my sponsor. Interviews, commercials, VIP dinners or lunches or breakfasts or whatever. Sometimes I go weeks before I get a free day.”

  “I had no idea,” she said, her head resting against the back of the seat, static causing wispy strands of her upswept hair to stick to the leather.

  “So while it might seem all I do is race and sign autographs, the reality is much different.”

  They were near the back of the track now, parking attendants slowing them down until they spotted the SUV’s parking pass. The sound of the vehicles out on the track was louder now, as were the cheers of the crowd. Indi seemed lost in thought as she studied the massive grandstands.

  “I feel bad about missing those appointments with Benjamin.”

  She turned to face him. “I know.”

  They turned right, the limo further slowing as a security guard checked to ensure Todd Peters was really inside the vehicle, and not a bunch of fans trying to infiltrate the driver/owner lot.

  “Good luck tomorrow night,” the man said as Todd rolled up the window.

  “Thanks.”

  “I thought you raced during the day.”

  “Usually, we do. But tomorrow we race at night. Although there are other times when I race on Saturday night, when I race in a different league with a different kind of car—the kind that’s racing tonight.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The Busch cars are running now. I race them, too, from time to time.”

  “What’s the difference between a Busch car and the car you’ll race tomorrow?”

  “Horsepower. Body weight. And a few million dollars.”

  “How much does it cost to run a NASCAR team?”

  “About ten to fifteen million.”

  The hand she’d been using to wipe at her dress fell to her lap. “You’re kidding?”

  “At a minimum,” Todd said. “NASCAR tries to keep things affordable, but the teams keep getting more and more competitive and so it’s costing more to stay ahead of the curve. That’s one of the reasons why I bend over backward to please my sponsors, although I’m pretty lucky. My primary sponsor—Fly For Less—was previously owned by my team owner. It’s pretty much a given that they’ll keep on sponsoring me since he still owns a lot of stock in the company, unlike some of the other guys who don’t know from year to year what name will be on the hood of their cars.” He glanced outside. “This is it.”

  A second later his driver opened the door for them. “Do you need me to wait?” the man asked.

  “Uh…sure,” Indi answered.

  The man nodded. Todd slid out first, offering Indi his hand. To his surprise, she took it.

  “Does he hang around the track all day waiting for you to summon him?”

  “Depends,” Todd answered. “He works for the team during the day. At night he keeps an eye on the place, if I’m not around. He’s more like an assistant—keeps the refrigerator stocked and the generator going—but at night he has his own hotel room.”

  “I see,” she said, her eyes fixed upon the black-and-silver Prevost that sat at the end of a row of similar buses. Thick humidity clung to their faces, and even though cars thundered around the track, Todd could still hear crickets chirping in the grove of trees behind the lot.

  “My home away from home,” Todd said, her hand so tiny and delicate he was almost glad to let it go.

  “And here I thought only rock stars owned things like these.”

  “Actually, drivers are a lot like musicians. We’re always on the road. So our motor coaches become our homes away from home. Each bus is tailored to a specific driver’s needs.”

  “All I need is some hot water.”

  “Right this way,” he said, pushing on a numbered keypad. “Although I should warn you. I own a dog.”

  No sooner had he said the words than he heard an excited whine on the other side.

  “That doesn’t sound like a dog,” she said as the door hissed open. “That sounds like a potbellied pig.”

  “He’s an English Bulldog,” Todd said, going inside first. “Hey, Lex. Come here, boy.”

  He heard Indi’s footsteps behind him right as Lex reared up and jammed his nose in Todd’s crotch. “Ouch, damn it. Why do you always do that?”

  But the dog was through with him. Lex had spotted Indi, and it was love at first sight.

  “He’s baring his teeth at me,” Indi cried out in alarm.

  “No, he’s not. He’s smiling,” Todd said, Lex’s stub of a tail wagging so hard his whole rear end gyrated. “Lex has a movie-star grin.”

  “And an underbite you could hang things off of,” she said, using her h
ands to keep the dog down.

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t detract from his smile.”

  By now Lex was doing his “I’m a happy dog” routine, tongue hanging down, stubby front legs half rearing as he tried to paw Indi’s thighs.

  “Uh, hi, Lex,” Indi said when the dog balanced on his hind legs in front of her.

  And then Lex froze, like a rearing horse, his nose lifting in the air as he caught a whiff of salad dressing. He grunted his approval before dropping back to the ground and licking Indi’s ankles.

  “Ooh,” Indi cried as she tried to move out of the way.

  “Lex, leave her alone,” Todd said, going to her rescue. “Sorry about that,” he said as he pulled the dog down.

  “That’s okay,” she said. “He just took me by surprise. Dogs’ noses are always so darn cold.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” Todd muttered. “Bathroom’s on the right,” he said, holding on to Lex’s collar.

  “Thanks,” she said, heading straight for it. Usually newcomers made some comment about the bus’s plush interior. Or how spacious it was. Or the fiber-optic lights that encircled the ceiling. Indi appeared completely engrossed in making it to the bathroom ASAP. Not that he blamed her. It must suck smelling like a salad bowl.

  “You want something to drink?” he asked, taking Lex to the front of the bus where his bed was located. “Down,” he ordered.

  Lex smiled.

  “Don’t try that with me,” Todd said, wagging a finger at the dog.

  “Nothing to drink for me,” came Indi’s muffled reply.

  “Did she taste good?” Todd asked.

  Lex wagged his tail.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said with a smile, turning toward the kitchen. She might not be thirsty, but he was, and the Prevost’s kitchen—it sat in one of four expandable compartments—was fully stocked thanks to Ron. He wished he could pull out a beer, but he never drank before a race and tomorrow was an important day. He might just make the Chase for the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup…

  Don’t think about that.

  He pulled out a soda and popped the top, a bit of the liquid bubbling through the hole. The bus’s water pump hummed with use. Todd figured it might take her a while to get the dress rinsed off and so he sat and called Lex over. The dog had been rescued by one of the local shelters Todd did some fund-raising for. His brown spots had caught Todd’s attention, and, still stinging from Kristen’s rejection, he’d impulsively brought him home. Life had never been the same since.

  “Damn it,” he heard Indi mutter.

  “You need some help in there?” he called, pointing Lex back to his dog bed. Lex went the opposite direction, toward the bathroom, his stub of a tail wagging back and forth, nose sounding like a plugged up vacuum as he sniffed the ground.

  “No,” Indi yelled. “I don’t need any help.”

  Lex found the crack in the door. He kneeled down on his knees and tried to suck the oxygen out of the bathroom.

  “You sure?”

  “No,” she said again, her voice impatient. And then low, but still audible, even over Lex’s snorting, she said, “I feel like an oil can.”

  “Lex, go,” he ordered his dog, grabbing his collar and pointing him back toward his bed. “I have a shirt and sweatpants,” he said. “You could change into those if you want to rinse the dress.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “You sure? It might be easier.”

  The image of her naked rose in his mind. It didn’t improve his mood.

  “The dress is already off.”

  He drew back from the door as if it had reached out and slapped him. “Oh, well…you want a robe or something?”

  “No.”

  He heard water splashing, looked down at Lex and shrugged. “Maybe we should both go to our beds,” he said, then winced at the mental image that wrought. He chugged the whole can of soda just so it would scald his throat—which it did—but it didn’t take his mind off things.

  A few minutes later Indi emerged with a towel held over the front of her, the dress noticeably wet from top to bottom.

  “It’s ruined. Let’s go,” she said, still sopping up the moisture.

  Lex looked from Todd to Indi, rear end gyrating, teeth bared. “Stay,” Todd told the dog. Then he said to Indi, “You’re not seriously going to ride all the way back to your hotel wearing a sopping wet dress, are you?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

  Her hand dropped, and it was then that he saw what the towel had concealed.

  She wore no bra.

  “You’re right,” he said. “You should go.”

  Her gaze became entangled in his own. She jerked the towel up. But it was too late. They might have been at each others’ throats until recently, but Todd was a man, and Indi was a woman. And they were alone. In his motor coach. With only Lex for company.

  “I told you this would be a wasted trip,” she muttered as she zoomed by.

  “Indi, no…wait,” he said, catching her arms. “If the dress means that much to you we should stay and try to fix it.”

  “It’s not the dress,” she said.

  “Then what is it? Why do you care so much about the darn thing?”

  She jerked away. “Because Linda picked this dress out for me. Because it means something to her. Because when she slipped it over my head tonight I saw something in her eyes, something that made me want to cry because I knew, I just knew, she was wishing all her own troubles away. Only she can’t do that and so I went along with her plans and I realized I really liked being dressed up. Only now the dress she picked out for me so carefully and, yes, lovingly, is ruined.”

  Her eyes hadn’t filled with tears, but they may as well have. What Todd saw swimming in the depths of her eyes was akin to a bucket of tears.

  “Indi, I’m sorry,” he said, his hand reaching for her own. “I’ll have Ron take it to the dry cleaners.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head and looking away. “I just want to go back to the hotel.”

  He almost let her go, but something made him close the distance between them, made him clutch her shoulders. “The weight of the world is on your shoulders, too, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “My burden’s nothing compared to Linda and her husband’s.”

  “That’s not true,” he dared to contradict. “I see it when you think I’m not looking. I see the sorrow and the sadness and, yes, the fear. You love your clients like they’re your own and when their illnesses get critical, it affects you like it does the family.”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked, her gaze wide and searching.

  He picked up the towel she’d dropped, wrapped it around her shoulders, used it to pull her toward him a little. He was tempted to snuggle up against her.

  Snuggle?

  “I know because I know you’re a good woman.”

  And he wanted to kiss her. Not because she was beautiful or because she had a hot body and a pretty face. He wanted to kiss her because he understood what it was like to have a job that created an unbearable amount of stress. Man, did he understand.

  “Don’t,” she said softly.

  “Don’t what?” he asked, his head lowering a fraction.

  “Don’t start being nice to me now.”

  He kissed her before he could think better of it. He used the towel to hold her close. And the moment his lips connected with hers, Todd knew nothing would be the same. Kissing her was like sliding into a new race car—a pulse-pounding, hair-raising, adrenaline rush of an experience. He pulled her closer, let the towel drop as he palmed the back of her head, applied pressure in the hopes that she felt the same thing, too. And for a second, a split second, Todd tasted her, his body jolting at the soft texture of her tongue.

  “Don’t,” she cried, wrenching away. “Don’t kiss me.”

  “Indi,” Todd said, unable to do much more than stare at her.

  She bent, picked up the towel, jerked it aro
und her, the water stain on her dress having spread lower. Without a backward glance she began to pass him. He lifted a hand to stop her, then thought better of it. In her current frame of mind she’d probably deck him. He glanced down at Lex. The dog had his head buried beneath his front paws, his eyes the only thing peeking out.

  I know how you feel, buddy.

  “How in the hell do you open this thing?” she said when she reached the door.

  “Button there on the right,” Todd said, coming up behind her. “But, Indi, I really think we should talk about this.”

  She pushed the button. The door hissed open. Thick, humidity-drenched air hit them. Indi took a step, then drew up short.

  A woman stood at the bottom of the stairs. Lex must have caught sight of her because he was up in a flash, Todd catching the dog’s collar at the last moment.

  “You have company,” Indi said, stating the obvious. She took the steps two at a time.

  “Hey, Todd,” the woman said, but only after eyeing Indi up and down. “I saw your light on and thought I’d drop by. You remember me, don’t you?”

  A brief image of naked flesh and tangled hair flitted through his mind.

  Yeah, he remembered her, and he wondered which of the other drivers she’d befriended had gotten her a wristband to get into the lot.

  “Don’t bet on it,” he heard Indi mutter.

  “Indi, wait—” He let go of Lex’s collar, but he had to turn to keep the dog from bounding outside.

  “We met last year,” the blonde was saying when he finally made it down the stairs. “And I was kind of thinking that maybe, you know, we could spend some time together again.”

  “I’m with someone,” Todd said, reaching Indi right as she jerked open the SUV’s door, Ron having tried to beat her to it. The man settled for holding the door for her.

  “Well, then, maybe tomorrow,” the woman said, having trailed behind.

  “Yeah,” Indi said. “Pencil her in for tomorrow. Right after the race would probably be good. Professional athletes enjoy a good romp after competing in an event.”

  “Indi, it’s not like that. I’m not like that.”

  “Right,” she said as she took a seat.

  “And I wasn’t trying to hit on you earlier. Really. I just—” He scratched at his hand, trying to think.