by Audra North
“What about you? Any interesting life lessons you want to share?” He leaned back, his legs sliding out ever so slightly and . . .
His knee bumped hers, and the most delicious shock of awareness shot through her.
Oh my God I am going to be the first person in history to die of flirting.
He was beautiful, and he was flirting with her, and she was trying to ruin him.
She focused half her energy on not moving her knee at all—which was a lot harder than it sounded—and the other half on forming coherent words. “I’ve learned that, if you really want something, you should go after it and not let anything stand in your way.”
He cocked his head and raised a brow. His knee didn’t move, either. “What kind of experience taught you that?”
So hot. The square inch of contact between the two of them—the contact that neither of them were acknowledging, apparently—was making her flush with desire. From the touch of knees through cotton and nylon.
She nearly whimpered. The arousal was making her feel reckless. Willing to tell him anything. “I, uh, well . . . my parents are both doctors. They wanted me to be one, too. I thought I would do it, had gone through premed in undergrad at Harvard and applied to med schools. I’d gotten in to a few and was sitting down to write my acceptance to one of them when I realized that I didn’t really want to go. I wanted to be a sports journalist, instead. So I kind of . . . I guess, defied my parents and did my own thing. Even though it was really difficult.”
She shouldn’t have taken so much satisfaction in the miniscule twitch of his knee against hers, but she did. She felt it as strongly as if he had knelt between her legs and stroked them apart.
But in this case, even more seductive was the way he was looking at her, as though he was impressed by her decision to make such a big life change. It felt good that someone was seeing her for who she was, instead of treating her like nothing more than a skirt or a coffee dispenser or any other number of menial things.
“You blazed your own trail, eh? Threw off the expectations and just did it? Wow. That must have taken a lot. I mean, that’s just . . . that’s really impressive.”
His enthusiasm was unmistakable. But now it was also—well, too much. She hadn’t expected him to get this excited about it. It was the kind of excitement and approval she’d hoped for many years to get from her parents, while he was giving it to her after five minutes as though he really meant it.
But instead of reveling in his appreciation of her accomplishments, now she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Ty was being nothing but kind and supportive to her. She liked him.
She couldn’t allow herself to actually like him.
Slowly, as subtly as she could manage, she moved her knee away. And immediately regretted the loss of contact.
“Ty! Two minutes.” A voice from the doorway made her jump. The bald man with the mustache had popped his head in to deliver the warning, pulling her back into reality.
Shit. Two minutes.
She straightened and assumed her most business-like tone, trying to forget the last five minutes as she started up the recorder again. “Pretty much. So. You won Rookie of the Year four years back in the Diamond series. You finished last season—your first in the Intercomm Cup—in fourth place. Yesterday, you won the second race of your second season in this series. You’re poised to take everything this year.” She paused. “What will you do after that?”
“What do you mean? Besides racing?” He was looking at her curiously, his eyes teasing.
She nodded, but she couldn’t help but wonder, Had that been the wrong thing to ask? It seemed almost silly, given the way he was reacting. “It’s just . . . you seem to have been on a mission ever since you got onto the racing scene. I’ve followed you for—a long time. Since your first truck race. It seems like—”
But as she spoke, his expression changed. The smile faded from his mouth, and the seduction left his eyes. For a moment, he seemed surprised, but then he simply looked . . . sad? Was she reading him correctly?
And if so, why was she fucking this up so horribly? The one person she’d been excited to interview, and it was an all-over-the-place emotional disaster. Suddenly, she was drowning in panic. After how hard she’d fought for a career in journalism, she couldn’t fail and end up back at home—or worse, at med school—with her tail tucked between her legs.
She waved her hand in the air, trying to erase her words. “I’m so sorry. I, uh, I’m new at this. I’ll just move on to the next question. Daytona is in two weeks. It’s a fast track and a longer race. How do you think your car will perform?”
But he shook his head. “It seems like what?”
She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. It was where she’d cut herself off. Should she ignore it? Tell him it was best to forget it?
She was quiet for a long moment, thinking.
Even worse than him asking her questions. Long silences were death and she still had an article to write about the race. She’d walk away with no material if she kept this up.
In fact—yep. She could see his handler’s shadow in the doorway. She was running out of time.
She blurted it out.
“I’ve followed racing for a long time. Ever since I was thirteen . . . so half my life. You’d just started in trucks, and even back then I could see by the way you raced that . . . well, this might seem silly, but it was like you weren’t just racing to win. You were racing to prove something. You say you don’t care whether you win or lose. And yet, I can’t explain it. It’s like even the Intercomm Cup won’t be enough. Like it’s just a stepping stone to something bigger. What is that?”
He blinked. “I’m sorry. I can’t answer that—”
It hurt. Why did it hurt, that he wouldn’t tell her? She was the one planning on using his trust against him.
Stupid Cori. Stupid armchair psychology that you should never have indulged in. She cut him off. She was all too aware of their dwindling minutes together. Maybe he didn’t have something to prove, but she did. “Next question, then. Daytona.”
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The way it pitched his body forward, he had to look up at her to meet her eyes.
It made a little thrill go through her.
“—on the record. I can’t answer that on the record. But I’d like to tell you. If you’re willing to keep it private.”
She forgot about the fact that she had so little time left with him. She forgot about how he was giving her exactly what she was after. All she could focus on was the way he said private, all soft and low . . . it pulled her to him like a magnet.
God. She was in so deep. And the biggest problem of all was, she was no longer sure which direction was up anymore.
* * *
The way Cori’s lips parted on a silent O when he said that—keep it private—made it hard for Ty to keep his hands to himself.
But of course, he did.
He’d surprised her. Maybe even shocked her. Hell, he’d shocked himself. He’d certainly never offered any other reporter an off-record glimpse into his thoughts—about this or anything else. He’d never opened up this fast at all, really . . . to anyone. And in a Media Day interview, no less!
He was supposed to be laying low. He was supposed to be behaving like a model of honesty and integrity, not offering to have off-the-record conversations with journalists.
What had he been thinking?
You’d been thinking about that undone button . . .
True. But was his desire to talk to her again, privately, simply a product of his powerful attraction to her? It couldn’t be. It didn’t feel like it. At least, not only attraction. He knew better than to let his lust rule his decisions, even though it was pretty intense right now.
It was more because she’d been the only one who hadn’t pushed him about the fight with Gilroy or the reasons behind it. She’d been the only one who seemed to understand he was ready for the next step in his career t
hat could take his love of racing to the next level, even if she didn’t know about the program he’d already been working to start, that had been yanked away from him by some jerk whose lies had hit too close to home.
He wanted to talk to her about how angry he felt over this whole thing. He wanted to talk to her about how he might have lost his chance to share his sport with young people who could benefit from seeing themselves in his success.
He also might have jeopardized everything simply by offering to confide in a woman he’d just met.
And yet . . . he didn’t take it back. Just stared at her. Waited.
Finally, after a long moment, she slowly shook her head. “I’m afraid . . . I have to finish interviewing the other drivers.”
He should have let it drop right then. But the devil had clearly got into him, because he chuckled and looked at her through his lashes. “I meant, after Media Day is over. Just you and me.”
So much for not letting his lust rule his decisions. He stuffed that sentence as full of meaning as he could manage, and she most definitely got it. Her cheeks pinked up so prettily, and her breath sped up, coming fast and shallow. She arched her breasts ever so subtly toward him, so subtly that he wondered whether she even realized she was doing it, and he had to curl his hands into fists to keep them at his side instead of reaching out and stroking a thumb over a clearly visible nipple through her smartly tailored shirt.
There was something between them. An attraction, yes, but also something that burned much stronger than that. Maybe it was her willingness to respect who he really was, or maybe it was only because she’d happened to come into his life right when things were exploding all around him and she was different enough to appeal to him in the way that he needed appealing to right now.
Either way, he had to see her again.
“I—” She opened her mouth, then closed it. Opened it again. “I fly back to Virginia right at the end of the day. I have to skip my last interview, in fact, to make my flight.”
He was about to do something completely insane and ask her to stay, to change her flight, when Frank poked his head into the room again. “Time’s up, Miss Bellowes, Ty.”
Thank God.
Not that Ty wanted this time with Cori to end. But he was making wild decisions right now. He needed someone to stop him. It was as though all reason had fled him, and he was known for having one of the coolest heads on the track.
Cori rose and held out a hand. “Thank you for your time. I-I really enjoyed talking with you.”
Was she just going to ignore him, then? Pretend he’d never asked her to spend time alone with him?
He took her hand and held it, gently enough that she could pull away if she wanted to, but intimately enough that she’d be hard-pressed not to remember the way their knees had been caressing each other like they were already lovers.
“I’ll call your office,” he murmured.
Oddly, she looked hesitant—almost regretful, in fact, instead of happy.
Had he pushed for too much? Maybe that was why she was hesitating. It was clear she felt at least some desire for him, and he appreciated that she didn’t want to muddle things too much. But she was still hanging on to his hand and neither of them seemed like they were about to let go.
“Okay.” Her voice was raspy, but then she made a sound and shook her head. “Actually, why don’t I . . . I’ll give you my cell number.” She pulled her hand away and rummaged in her bag. Grabbed out a notebook and pen and scribbled her number on one of the pages.
He suppressed a bemused chuckle. Was Gold Cup really such a small operation that they couldn’t even afford business cards? At least she was giving him a better, less public way to contact her. Calling her office might result in more attention than either of them wanted.
She ripped out the page and handed it to him. “I’m sorry. I, uh, I have to admit that this is the first event I’m covering. I don’t have any cards yet.” The blush that accompanied that statement was fierce.
So she was new.
He noticed that the hand she held out was shaking, causing the piece of paper to flutter slightly. It was possible that small sign of her nervousness filled him with masculine pride. Not that he was that kind of guy.
He grinned. Not his usual smile, but one full of smug satisfaction.
Fine. He was that kind of guy. At least when it came to this woman. He took the paper.
“Thanks. It was good to meet you, Cori. I really enjoyed talking to you and look forward to more conversations.”
She made a strange face at that, but nodded. “You too, Ty.”
He did like hearing her say his name.
He took her hand again, but instead of shaking it, this time he brought it to his lips. Kept his eyes on hers the entire time. Now he knew what color they were. Gray-green with just a hint of blue around the iris. Complex eyes that were darkening with arousal, reflecting her heat that he could feel coming off of her body.
What would she do if he kissed her? All the signs hinted that she would welcome it. Her lips were already parted, and he gave a gentle tug on her hand, pulling her just a little bit closer. Her tongue came out and wet her bottom lip, a soft sigh escaping her as her mouth moved ever so slightly closer to his—
“Ty! Time is more than up, man!”
Frank shouted at him from the doorway, and Cori started, jumping away like she’d been burned.
Ty slowly lowered his now-empty hand.
“Have a safe trip back.”
She nodded. “You too.”
She sounded worked up. Practically panting.
Hot damn. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate during the rest of the interviews. He’d probably end up looking like an idiot because of it.
And yet, as he watched her walk out the door, for once he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
Chapter 4
Cori was making progress.
She’d gotten Ty to confide a couple of things in her, even if it was only for a minute or two and about something she still didn’t understand. But she was developing a relationship with him that could help her get more information, and maybe she’d end up with something truly interesting out of that.
But then again, maybe not.
Despite her resolve not to think too hard about it, she couldn’t stop wondering about the setup Alex had given her. If the wire service needed money that badly, why agree to feature an exposé that may or may not have anything interesting to say? What if this whole thing turned up nothing but Ty’s single loss of temper with Gilroy?
How was Alex going to justify that to this mysterious investor?
In her seat on the plane out of Phoenix, Cori fretted.
She needed to know more about the terms of the deal. Alex probably knew who the person or organization was who was giving them the money, but he simply wasn’t telling her. He was such a shady, selfish prick.
Is that what you want to become, too? Because you’re well on your way.
Ty hadn’t offered her anything except a private discussion, but the sexual tension between them had been too intense to pretend otherwise. Maybe she shouldn’t have given him her number.
But she bristled at her own thoughts. She could keep this under control. She wasn’t going to sleep with him, and she wasn’t going to publish lies. Besides, Ty wanted to see her. She hadn’t tricked him into it or anything else.
She’d already finished typing up her piece about the weekend’s race and would send it over to Alex as soon as she landed. Until she got the information she wanted for the full exposé, she’d report on the races and everything she’d learned during Media Day as par for the course . . . except for the stuff Ty had said in confidence, of course.
Despite not being able to report on that part, the story she’d written had still been mostly about him, in the end. Even though she’d gone over the key moments of the race and pulled in quotes from some of the other drivers, including Kerri, Ty had become the highlight
of the article.
She wanted to know what else he had to say. Assuming he even called, of course. Maybe he’d just been caught up in the moment, in whatever electrical connection had been sparking between them, but now that Media Day was over, it was possible he’d forgotten about her entirely.
Well. Either way, she certainly couldn’t tell Alex that Ty had hinted at something important that he was thinking of doing next in his career. Alex would be ruthless and probably ask her to do something completely unethical, like print it despite Ty telling her off the record, and she was already at her limit of the questionable things she was willing to do for a story.
That sounds suspiciously like splitting hairs.
She thought about what Ty had said to her earlier that day.
Sometimes pretending that you’re doing the wrong thing for the right reasons only hurts you and the ones you love.
But she didn’t love Ty.
If he called—and it was a big if, because he was a top race car driver and busy as all hell during the season, a fact that she’d conveniently forgotten while she’d been indulging in fantasies about his knee, of all things—then she’d tell him she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea. That if he wanted to talk to her off the record, seeing as she was the only female reporter on the circuit, they’d need to meet where there was no chance of being seen.
Surely he’d understand. And if he didn’t, she’d simply say no to seeing him outside of the races and go back to her normal life, which involved exactly zero hot men with liquid brown eyes. She’d have to figure out what to tell Alex if it came down to that, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there.
The plane landed and she quickly shot the story over to Alex, who immediately replied that he’d look it over and, if it was any good, he’d post it right away. Not Thanks for getting this in so quickly.
But what had she expected? Alex wasn’t exactly a model of decency.
He’d actually told her to sleep with Ty if it helped their cause. She’d been offended and he’d just laughed, all nasty and insinuating.