Crossing the Line (Hard Driving)

by Audra North

  “Yeah?” She could hear his excitement, which matched her own. “Then what do you say? Saturday?”

  “O-Okay.” The moment the word left her, she felt her anticipation grow exponentially, almost like she’d just agreed to something more than just a date.

  No. Not a date. Just two semiprofessional people meeting up for dinner and a kiss. Friendly acquaintances kissed all the time, right?

  “Only thing is . . .” He sounded uncomfortable.

  “You want to keep it under wraps.” She knew it already. Given the PR mess he was in right now, being seen with a reporter under questionable circumstances wasn’t ideal.

  Which worked out perfectly for her.

  “Exactly.” This time, his tone was relieved. “I knew you’d understand. I’m sorry I’m asking you to keep a secret, though. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  Too late. Too late to all of it.

  But she made herself reply, “It’s okay. I do understand.” She gave him her address.

  “Great. Thank you, Cori. I can’t wait. I’ll see you Saturday, okay?”

  “Yes. Saturday,” she confirmed, but she squeezed her eyes shut as she said it, as though shutting out the truth made it easier to bear.

  * * *

  Ty woke up the next morning feeling like he’d swept all the races in the season. He’d done it. He’d asked out Cori, and he was going to see her this weekend.

  He pulled on a pair of sweats and headed downstairs, hoping to get in a short workout before he had to get out to the garage. Like the other drivers, he tried to stay in shape so that he could last through the grueling conditions of a two-hour race, but not bulk up too much so that he would still ride light and lean in the car. It was a little tougher for him, being on the taller side, but he managed. He envied guys like Kolchek, who was a couple of inches shorter than Ty’s mom.

  Racing was one of the few sports where being small was an advantage. And as much as folks liked to poke fun at short guys, Kolchek had women practically throwing themselves at him wherever he went, even though he was maybe five-foot-four on a good day. Too bad Kolchek was a total asshole when it came to women. But then . . . Kolchek was an asshole 24–7.

  The doorbell rang and Ty glanced at the clock. Just after seven in the morning. There was only one person that could be.

  The workout would have to wait. He grinned and padded over to the door in bare feet, opening it to let Mom step in. She hugged him and pinched his cheek teasingly. “Did I wake you up? You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

  He laughed and shut the door behind her, then ushered her into the kitchen. “You didn’t wake me up, but fifteen minutes earlier and you might have. Do you have time for coffee?”

  “Do I have time for coffee with my only child? What a question.” Mom winked, but Ty knew she was serious, and he appreciated it. Even though Dad was frustrating the hell out of him right now, he loved his parents and loved that they made time for him.

  It angered him that they’d worked so hard to give him a good life, and now that was being threatened by someone with an axe to grind.

  Mom went to the counter and switched on the coffee maker. She was dressed impeccably, as usual, on her way to her office. It wasn’t far from there and she often dropped by in the mornings to say hello.

  He took a moment to study her, to try to see her through a stranger’s eyes. Despite her doctorate in psychology, despite the care she put into the way she looked, spoke, acted . . . some people would simply never see anything but their own prejudices. At least because he was doing so well in racing, the stories that began with the color of his skin were usually favorable, even if they still focused too much on the wrong thing.

  It was why he’d wanted so badly to start that program, for diversifying racing and making it more welcoming for kids of color, for women . . .

  Now it was a broken dream.

  Mom set out two mugs and gestured for him to sit down at the kitchen table. She poured coffee into both cups, added a splash of milk into one, then brought both over to the table to join him. “You seem a little distracted this morning. Yesterday too. Any particular reason?”

  Damn. He’d been hoping it wouldn’t be that obvious. He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Busy with the season starting, I guess.” And dealing with a major disappointment and meeting a woman who I’m really, really interested in.

  “I heard about your program being put on hold.”

  Ty resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course she had. Dad didn’t keep any secrets from Mom.

  She continued. “But I don’t think that’s what is really distracting you.”

  He should have known Mom would see past his feigned nonchalance.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Something’s going on in your life that doesn’t have anything to do with racing, isn’t it?” She frowned. “But your dad didn’t tell me about it.”

  Mom was good. Was it in the way he’d smiled just now when he’d thought about Cori? His too-stiff shrug? Either way . . . Mom was too perceptive by half, and Ty looked down at his mug, grinning at being caught. “That’s because I didn’t tell Dad about it.”

  Mom laughed. “I should have known. I love him, but the man has no finesse. So does this involve a woman, by any chance?”

  For a second, he hesitated. He didn’t want Dad to know, not least because Bobby might ask Ty to stop seeing Cori. She’d agreed to keep their meeting quiet, but his father was so fearful right now that even well-placed caution might not be enough.

  But then, Mom was a lot better at keeping private things private and . . . why not tell her about Cori? As long as she didn’t tell Dad, it wasn’t like it would really hurt anything.

  Ty shared what had happened so far with Cori, and that he was going to see her this weekend. When he’d finished, Mom nodded. “She sounds perfect, baby.”

  He snorted. “Except for the part where she’s a journalist and we’re in the middle of a PR nightmare.”

  “And you don’t think you can trust her?” Mom’s voice was sharp.

  “No, I . . . I don’t know. She wrote something great about me when everyone else has been trying to tear us down because it’s more exciting to write speculative trash than the truth. I want to trust her. And we’re not going to be seen in public.”

  Mom was quiet for a bit, studying him, then finally nodded. “In that case, sweetie, go for it. Just . . . be careful, okay?”

  Ty nodded, but he wasn’t really listening. He was tired of being careful. The silence, the pretending . . . he needed an outlet for all his pent-up frustration.

  Saturday couldn’t come quickly enough.

  Chapter 6

  Cori hovered nervously near her front window, staring out at the gathering dusk and watching for Ty’s car. She’d spent the week torn between hoping the date went well and hoping that he would never want to see her again when it was over.

  Either way, she was pretty much fucked, which was a sign of how crazy she must’ve been to have agreed to this. Crazy about him, anyway. Ten minutes in his company and she wanted him like she’d never wanted a man before.

  I’d really like to kiss you.

  He’d said that, on the phone, and she’d thought about it constantly ever since. She’d tried not to, but once she’d convinced herself that it was just a kiss, and nothing more, she hadn’t been able to stop.

  She’d gone back and looked at photos of him, stared at his lips, and thought about what it would be like. She’d put her hand on her own knee, trying to recreate his touch, and then rolled her eyes at herself when she realized she was fondling her own knee.

  But she hadn’t stopped thinking about kissing him. Would it be tentative and sweet? Or hot from the get-go, all intense lips and sliding tongues?

  A car pulled up in front of the house.

  Holy crap he’s here!

  Cori yanked herself out of her kissing daydream when Ty got out of the car, and she flew away from the window, runnin
g all the way to the kitchen so that he wouldn’t see her spying on him.

  You. Are a freak.

  The doorbell rang and she jumped.

  And need to get a grip.

  Smoothing a hand over her hair, she made herself walk slowly back to the door. She took a deep breath and turned the handle . . .

  “Ty.” His name came out on a whoosh of air. He looked so good, wearing a T-shirt under a dark jacket with jeans that hugged those muscular thighs . . .

  When they did finally kiss—please, God, she wanted to kiss him—she wanted to rub her legs up and down those thighs.

  Except that might be a little forward for a first kiss. Maybe the second one?

  No no no. No thigh rubbing. And definitely no sex! Kissing. Only.

  She tried not to stare at his lips.

  Failed.

  “Cori. Hey. It’s good to see you again.”

  He was still standing on the doorstep, and after a moment of staring at each other in silence, he shifted awkwardly.

  “Oh! Right. Uh, come on in.” She stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.

  As he stepped over the threshold, his jacket brushed her arm and she shivered. Would it be too forward to ask him to kiss her right away? They’d talked about it on the phone, for goodness’ sake! She’d imagined every possible approach, every direction that kiss could go in, and even though things were a bit stilted right now, now that she was so close to him and could see those sexy, full lips and the smoothness of his shaven jaw, it was the only thing she wanted.

  Except that she was just standing there like a wooden doll, frozen by her own desire.

  “Hey.” He reached out his hand and cupped her cheek, and every part of her body thrilled. “Is this too weird? We can always go out for a walk, or something, if it makes you feel less nervous.”

  He was touching her. His fingers were on her cheek. Warm skin, caressing—

  She didn’t even think before she did it. Just leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  * * *

  Hot damn.

  From the way Cori had answered the door, looking more than a little tightly wound, Ty hadn’t expected her to do something like that.

  But he wasn’t protesting.

  It was as good as he’d imagined. Better, even. He pulled her flush against him and she came without hesitation, as though she’d lost her anxiety as soon as her mouth had met his. That gorgeous, lush mouth . . . he licked a path over her bottom lip.

  She moaned and opened for him, and he felt his blood going southward, pushing his body forward, his hand running down her back, wanting to feel more of her against him. More. Harder.

  He tore his mouth away. “Cori.” He had to stop, or they were probably going to end up naked in another minute, and as much as he would enjoy it—he was sure of it—that wasn’t really why he was here.

  He liked her. Or at least, he wanted to find out if he did.

  He gently released her and took half a step back, grinning. “Well, that’s definitely the best welcome I’ve ever received.”

  She blushed and moved completely out of his embrace, and it took everything he had not to reach for her again. “God. Ty. I’m so sorry. I just, uh, I don’t know what came over me.”

  “I do.” He winked and her blush deepened. “I haven’t stopped thinking about that since the hotel in Phoenix,” he whispered. But she still looked a little discomfited, like she was ashamed of herself for going after what she wanted. He wanted to tell her, no, that he needed her to be bold, strong, and fearless—everything he was prevented from being right now by his father’s fear.

  But he wasn’t here to make demands. He was here because he wanted to talk to her. So he simply moved his gaze away, trying to give her time to recover and hopefully relax things a bit. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, though. Because he might want to talk to her, but the lust he felt for her, too . . . well, it wasn’t exactly a bad thing. She wanted him, and she was passionate about wanting him, and she didn’t seem to realize that the fast, hot kiss had pushed all of his buttons. He might be easygoing in the public eye, but he was a race car driver, after all. He liked it fast and intense.

  The way she’d kissed him . . . it had turned him on like he’d never been before.

  Hell. He needed to cool down.

  He took his time looking around the house, as much for his sake now as for hers. It was small but uncluttered, and everything was decorated in light colors and clean lines. There were photos on the mantel above a small fireplace, one of them of her in a graduation gown, an older woman and man flanking her. It was hard to make out the details from where he stood, but he assumed they were her parents.

  She’d alluded to it last time, that she’d had trouble with them when she’d decided to go into journalism over med school, but it seemed from the photo at least that her decision hadn’t completely ruined their relationship.

  Maybe . . . maybe he could push back on Dad a little more. Maybe fighting wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. But then he pictured Dad’s face, the last time he’d suggested they make a clean breast of it in public, and he didn’t think his father would survive it.

  This sucked.

  Don’t bring your anger here. Don’t let secrets ruin something good before it starts.

  He took a moment to get ahold of himself and, after a little more time, turned back to Cori. “This is a great place. You made it look real nice. And something smells amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She looked a little steadier now. That confidence he’d seen in her the first day, when she’d jumped and shouted to get his attention during the post-race conference, had returned.

  That’s my girl.

  The thought surprised him. His girl? He barely knew her.

  Except he’d kissed her. She’d written about him with more understanding than people who had known him for ten years instead of just ten minutes.

  His girl.

  He grinned, and she smiled back.

  “I’ve only lived here for a few months, but I don’t like living out of boxes. I was unpacked and had most of it painted and furnished within the first week of moving in.”

  He gave her a nod of admiration. “That’s impressive. I think I still have boxes in my attic and I’ve been living there for three years.”

  She dipped her head. “I’m sure my place is nothing compared to yours, though. I mean, it’s pretty tiny.”

  She looked so gorgeous, and he could still feel her lips on his, even though they weren’t even standing that close right now, that he couldn’t help himself. He had to touch her. He reached out a hand and gently stroked down her arm, feeling her shiver in response.

  But a moment later, she drew her arm back, looking nervous, and asked in a too-high chirpy tone, “Are you hungry? Dinner is ready.”

  Right. He dropped his hand and willed his desire to calm. He’d gotten amped up so hard, so fast, that he’d lost track of how intense he could be sometimes. But damn it, he felt like he was having to pull back everywhere. Keep quiet, keep calm, don’t fight for anything . . .

  Now was not the time to fight for Cori, though. Definitely not what he was going for.

  He blew out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to eat.” Maybe I’ll start by chewing a bowl of ice to cool down.

  She led him into the kitchen and brought him a glass of wine, shooing him away when he tried to help her serve. He backed off, knowing it was probably wise to keep a little distance between them for a bit.

  They chatted about simple things—his flight up, the weather, whether he’d ever been to Norfolk before—and after a few minutes they were both seated at her cozy café table, looking at each other over their wine glasses.

  “To Media Day,” he offered, earning a grin from her.

  “Media Day,” she echoed as they clinked glasses, each taking a sip before setting them down and starting to eat.

  She’d made something called masala, and the smell of the spices alone wa
s making his mouth water. He took a bite and made a sound of appreciation. It tasted even better than it smelled. “So, did you learn to cook from your parents?”

  She laughed. “Actually, no. Neither of my parents is particularly skilled in the kitchen. I mostly taught myself and took a couple of cooking classes with friends when I was in college. This dish, though—there was a guy in the class ahead of me who I dated for a few months. He was from Bangalore and a way better cook than I’ll ever be. But I managed to learn a thing or two.”

  Ty felt a sharp jab of jealousy, but pushed it down. He had no reason to be jealous. Especially not of a guy who obviously hadn’t lasted in Cori’s life. He wanted to growl, though, and pull her close in an attempt to defend his territory—his girl—against even the memory of another man.

  Yes! Fight! Fight for something! His body was clamoring for it, but instead, he forced a smile. “I’d say more than a thing or two. It’s really tasty.”

  Tasty? Why not just tell her it was nummy nummy in your tummy and then you can show yourself out?

  What the hell was up with him today? He nearly started talking about the weather again, just to get away from whatever weird cycle of aggressive thoughts was going on in his head, but she must have seen it come through somehow by a look on his face, because she put down her fork and reached for his hand. “Hey. You okay?”

  It was that feeling again—he knew he hadn’t imagined it—that she could see right into him. Not through him, but deep inside his soul. And suddenly, he didn’t want to put on a show for her and pretend that everything was fine. Not like he did for the rest of the world. He wanted to be able to tell someone the truth about what he was feeling.

  He turned his hand, palm up, and grabbed her fingers.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just plain old-fashioned jealousy.” He huffed out a laugh.

  Her hand jerked in his and her jaw dropped. “You’re jealous of some guy I had a really casual relationship with a few years ago? But-But you’re Ty Riggs! A legend on the track in your own time and you’re practically a sex symbol.” Her eyes were so wide it was almost comical.

  “And you’re Cori Bellowes. The only reporter on the circuit who still seems to value reporting on the sport instead of trying to turn everything into tawdry gossip and insinuations.” He meant it, but he still kept his voice teasing. He wanted to reach across the table and yank her to him, to show her with his hands and mouth and body how much he appreciated her willingness to stand up for him.