by Wendi Zwaduk
Not wanting to encourage him, Megan strode out of the truck and stood in the shadow of the hauler. She shielded her eyes. “This is a little better.” She inched close to Tucker and kept her voice low. “And you want me to make it up to you in a very personal way?"
Crimson infused his cheeks. Had she got under his skin? He didn't blush easily. Tucker rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please do make it up to me. I can think of at least three ways right now and one involves the hood of my Impala."
Megan nodded and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile. “Stop back when the race concludes. It should be worth your while."
"I'll be here.” His lips parted and his eyes widened. “I want to tell you, I—I wish I could take back what happened.” He toyed with the knobs on the radio. “I've made mistakes, lots of them, but losing you is right at the top."
He regretted his actions? A shred of the anger she'd held on to for the past ten years dissipated. “We all have things we're not proud of."
"I want to start over and show you I can love you the way you deserve."
The earnestness in his voice chipped away at the fortifications around her heart. “Let's not get mixed up. You love racing and race cars, not women."
"There's one woman in particular who is very near and dear to my heart. Tell me what you want me to do to make things up to you,” he murmured. “I'll do whatever it takes. I've still got a set of handcuffs with your name on them."
She'd bet he did. Handcuffs dangling from his headboard as a reminder of a conquest. Not a lost love. No way.
Megan glanced over Tucker's shoulder. Her assistant Janine remained a few feet away but had crooked her brow and crossed her arms. Thank God for friends with attitudes. Another moment and she'd have caved in to Tucker's sweet apologies. “How about you just show up?"
"I see you haven't taken the teardrop off."
"It went with my outfit."
"Uh-huh. I'll be here...later.” Tucker tipped his hat and sauntered away.
Drawing a long breath and letting it out, Megan leaned against the hauler wall. She couldn't take back the invitation. She followed the slight sway of his ass as he blurred into the crowd. Why did the cute ones have to leave the deepest emotional wounds?
"At least he's got a nice butt.” Janine dug her bony elbow into Megan's side. “Just right for whacking with a paddle until it's pretty and pink."
Megan stared at Janine. Go figure Janine got into kink. Then again, Janine and kink didn't shock Megan. The statuesque blonde was one model-thin conundrum—prim on the outside, loose as a goose on the inside. More or less like Megan. Probably why they were friends.
Megan chuckled. Hell, part of her wanted to stick around and rekindle the lost romance with Tucker. The rest of her wanted to paddle him and push him far, far away.
Nah...the only paddling in the picture would mean him in control and her squealing on his lap. Her skin heated. Anything having to do with his lap sounded damn fine. But he'd walked away. Why wear the last reminder of him?
Stupid mistakes bore repeating? Because he'd once loved her? She wasn't sure anymore.
Janine's voice broke through Megan's thoughts. “What exactly are you going to do? He's the man who broke your heart."
"Good question.” Megan dropped her hands and sighed. “Mathew needs a mentor, and Tucker needs payment. In some ways, I'm in a bind. In others, I'm not."
"You're devious when you've been hurt. Something's percolating.” Janine drummed her acrylic-tipped fingernails on the side of the truck. “What are you thinking?"
Megan stared at the trucks racing around the track. She'd invested too much of her time, energy and money in her team. More than enough of all three to let someone like Tucker Poston stand in her way—no matter how much he made her heart beat and her pussy quiver.
She turned away from the track and toyed with the ring on her right hand. “We do need the help.” She nodded as the plan formed in her mind. A little harmless fun never hurt anyone...and she'd be fine as long as she kept her heart safe behind its concrete walls. “He had cheap and easy and I'm not free."
"I love the way you think."
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Chapter Two
* * * *
Tucker checked his watch for the fifth time as he strode across the infield towards the Blitz hauler. Nervous energy zipped through his veins. Being with Megan earlier had jolted his heart back into working order. The pressure to perform for his team and the loneliness that had kept him company for so long had evaporated. She brought completion to his life. The scent of burnt rubber floated through the air in a pungent odour while the gravel crunched under his feet. In the distance, the hum of fans buzzed from the camper lots. Those were the days. Packing all his things into the extended cab and sleeping in sleeping bags with the race car because he couldn't afford to race otherwise. Megan had loved snuggling in those ratty sleeping bags.
He clicked his tongue. Give him a few moments to plead his case and maybe, just maybe she'd admit she never truly lost interest in him. She still wore his necklace. The teardrop. Somewhere in her heart she still had to care. With luck on his side, maybe she'd even concede she still found him more than a little irresistible.
The vision of Megan stretched out across a leather couch, swathed in crimson silk, came to mind. Her hair splayed about her face and a kiss-swollen pout on her lips. "Come to me, lover. I need you."
"And I need you.
He clenched and unclenched his fist, yearning to touch her. To lay her over his knees and spank her sweet ass to a dusky rose colour. To plunder not only her tight pussy, but her ass as well, and mark her as his woman once again.
Blood pounded in his veins. He spied the Blitz truck and stopped short. The faint tang of fireworks and burnt wood wafted through the air. If she admitted anything, it wasn't going to be her unending love for him. The fireworks would probably be her kicking his ass out. She'd have a firing squad on the other side of the door just waiting to lay him flat on his back. He sighed. He'd never know unless he faced her again.
"Going somewhere?"
Tucker gritted his teeth. He didn't have to turn around to see the speaker. “Rick."
The gravel crunched behind him. Rick's snorted laughter blotted out the noise from the fan track walk. “I asked you a question, punk."
"Out for some air.” Glaring, Tucker bit out his words at his fellow driver.
"Your hauler is across the infield.” Rick stared down his thin nose at Tucker. Hatred and annoyance flashed in his dark eyes. The corner of his mouth jerked in a sneer.
"No shit."
Though Rick stood at least six inches shorter than Tucker, he lifted his chin to meet Tucker, eyeball to eyeball. “I don't like you sniffing around my Megan."
His Megan? What the fuck? Tucker bit down hard on his tongue. Silence. Breathe. Walk away.
"Did you hear me, punk?” Spittle flew from Rick's thin lips.
"Message received.” Tucker sidestepped Rick's position then strode forwards. He'd wasted enough time talking to the asshole.
"I've got my eye on you."
Fuck you, too. Tucker focused on the Blitz truck. If he looked back, he'd smear Rick into the ground and land himself on probation—again. Not tonight. Not with his ride at stake. Instead of taking the direct route, Tucker doubled back and wandered through the maze of trucks and trailers. If Rick wanted to follow, he'd have to find Tucker first.
The red and black hauler came back into sight. At a near run, Tucker made his way to the hauler door. His chest ached. Excitement? Regret? He wasn't sure.
I have to see her
Tucker knocked on the door then took a step back. Don't want to look too eager. “Mrs Rodney?” The words tasted acrid on his tongue. Mrs Rodney. She never should've married the prick. He knocked again and held his breath. No sounds from behind the door. He puffed out an exhale and yanked the chrome handle. He'd never live with himself if something had happe
ned to her while he stood waiting outside.
"Megan?” Tucker peeked around the cabin. Papers lay strewn on the desk. The computer screen sat dormant and protected under twin straps. The couch cushions appeared pristine. He turned, taking in the sight of the entire space. No Megan. “Well, fuck me."
The clomp of footsteps broke the tension enveloping Tucker. He jerked around and drew back his fist.
"Hey, man, I don't fuck on the first date."
"Mat.” Relief washed through Tucker. At least the rookie wouldn't dismember him.
Mat held up both hands. “Who are you planning to pummel? I'm unarmed."
Tucker smoothed his hand over his thigh. “I'm sorry. I'm a little jumpy. Is Megan coming by?"
"The last I knew, she was on her way to Hickory.” Mat clicked the tab on his can of soda. Fizz splattered on his hand and dotted Tucker's shirt. “I never could open these things without making a mess.” He switched the can to his right hand and wiped the drips onto his rumpled shirt tail. “I think Megan left an hour ago. Want a Coke? There's Pepsi, too, if you're interested."
"Whatever's handy.” Tucker stepped out of the way as Mat withdrew a second can of soda from the mini-fridge. Tucker snorted and accepted the can. Damn. The rookie was all legs, and scrawny at that. Megan probably had to fold him like an accordion to get him into the car. She had a thing for tall men. Double damn.
"I love modern conveniences. How can I help you?” Mat sat in the curve of the couch and crossed his ankles. He bobbed his ebony brows. “I ain't much to look at but BL loves me."
BL? Tucker tapped the top of his can, more for something to do rather than out of necessity. “Why are you here, exactly? Shouldn't you be on your way home, too?"
"Motor coach is in the shop.” Mat took a long sip of his drink. “Not ideal, but I'll manage. Sit."
"Are you busted or is the bus in need of repairs?” Tucker sat opposite Mat, still unsure of the situation.
"We traded the old bus in for one with bunks. Nic's preggers with twins, so we'll need the space.” Mat twiddled with his phone. “Ain't she pretty?"
Tucker took the device and half expected to see a picture of the motor coach. Instead a waifish brunette smiled as she flashed a diamond ring. “She's cute.” He handed the phone back to Mat. Okay, he could work with this. Megan didn't fiddle around with men in relationships. “I still don't get why you're riding home in the hauler."
Mat sighed and tossed the phone onto the seat. Humour lit up his dark eyes. “I've been waiting on your lazy ass to get here. Then I'm going home in Eric's motor coach. He didn't mind me bunking with him, so it works out.” Mathew stretched out and crossed his legs. “I know you really hadn't planned on coming here to talk to me."
"Really?"
"You're looking for Boss Lady."
The kid was quick. Irritating, and too damn young for his own good, but quick. “And you know this how?"
"First off, you have her annoying habit of starting questions with the word ‘and'. Second, Blitz, though awesome and the best place to work, is peanuts. You're with a primo team and don't need to piss around with us, so either you're doing community service, slumming, or you want her. I can't say as I blame you. If I wasn't married, I'd make a play for BL in a hot minute."
"Who the f—? I mean, who's BL?” Tucker shifted in his seat and toyed with the condensation on his can. The more Mat talked, the more Tucker wanted to like him, but damn if he didn't get to the meat of the situation quick.
"You crack me up, acting all proper.” Mat's shoulders shook as he laughed. “I can't exactly call her Megan Rodney, since I have no respect for her ex, Rick, and I feel all weirded out calling her Meg like Janine does. So, I started calling her Boss Lady. She thought it was funny and I ran with it."
"I see.” He'd had a pet name for her, too—not that he'd tell Mat. Megs. Some things were meant to be kept private.
"I see, as well.” Mathew snorted. “You got snookered.” He shrugged. “Probably just as well. If old man Rodney sees you sniffing around BL, he's likely to shit a brick."
Did Mat just say...? Tucker shook his head. The mere thought of Megan with Rick soured his stomach. Then again, it explained the confrontation half an hour prior. The prick. “They split over three years ago. What does he care? He's married to Amber, or is it Alicia? He hooked up with someone."
"Did he see you come here?"
"Maybe."
"He did, the mother fucking lunatic.” Mat shook his head and crinkled the can in his long fingers. “Rick will never commit to someone else as long as he's convinced Megan will want him back. As far as he thinks, she can't run the team without him. He's certain she'll beg him to dump Amber, because only he can figure out the ins and outs of team management. Rick believes BL has no brains."
"He underestimates her."
"Sure, she's got a lot on her plate. I'm not exactly setting the racing world on fire, and King's being King. Rick thinks if he pushes and pressures, BL will cave. The asshole. I swear he and King are working together to ruin her life."
Tucker draped his ankle over his knee, bobbing his foot. He thought about Mat's assumptions. Pairing Valletta and Mat wasn't Megan's best idea, but then again she needed to learn. Tucker had always gained the most wisdom learning from his errors. Still, she didn't deserve the strife he'd heard on the radio. He took a drink from the can and let the sugary liquid roll around his mouth. Almost as sweet as her kiss. He stared at her name on the side of the desk area.
"You wouldn't know why she wears that ugly-ass necklace all the time, would you?"
Tucker choked on his soda, the fizz burning the passages in his nose. “I'm sorry?"
"That necklace. She wears it everywhere."
"Maybe it holds special meaning?” Dear God, he hoped it still held meaning to her. “Some women are extra sentimental."
"She wore it when she married Rick. I don't think I've ever seen her take it off, come to think of it. I'm hoping it's not some sort of fucked-up signal to him she's just playing hard to get."
"That's gross."
"She married him, not me. Not that I was in the running.” Mat rolled his eyes. “Are you going to sit here and chew the fat with me, or pop the clutch and head to North Carolina?"
Never took the teardrop off... Comfort and hope welled in his soul. He'd never really left her mind. She might not be his, but she wasn't Rick's, either. Tucker surfaced from his thought-induced fog. “Listen to my advice about trusting your instincts on track and I'll take your advice. If I can, I do want to make your BL happy."
"I knew you had it in you...or will have you in her.” Mat's brows wrinkled. “Something like that. Anyway, follow the speed limits when you leave. The freeways between here and Hickory aren't the straightaways at Talladega."
Tucker crushed his can then gave Mat a salute. “Will do.” He exited the cabin and crossed the infield. As soon as the race ended tomorrow, he'd be on his way to Megan. The sixty-four thousand dollar question was, would she take him?
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Chapter Three
* * * *
Megan stood in front of the floor-length windows and stared, unseeing, at the courtyard. She caressed the drop of white gold about her throat. In the last three days, her world—chaotic at the best of times—had turned completely upside down. Memories flooded her mind. Instead of the arrangements of trees and chrysanthemums bathed in the oranges, golds and reds of fall before her, Tucker's reflection filled her view. His crooked smile. The way the laughter on his lips reflected in his hazel eyes. A sweat dampened curl that always fell across his forehead.
Tears threatened behind her eyes. The same man who loved with all his soul and raced with every cell in his body also held the potential for maximum destruction. Besides, her heart wasn't ready to be ripped open again when he decided to leave. And she still wore his necklace. What a fool. At least she had two weeks before seeing him again.
A ping echoed in the room. Megan glanced around in
search of the sound. She spied her computer and rolled her eyes. Duh. She had a new email.
Sighing, she plunked down in her seat and brought up the new document.
To: MRodney
From: JWalters
Re: Roster Changes
You need to see this! MPR Racing officially released Tucker Poston from contract due to lack of performance. Although the agreement isn't popular on either side, it's what's best for the team at large. Think he'll end up here hunting for a job? I'm game to show him around Blitz. Grin.
Or you could.
Megan closed the email. When life handed out lemons, Tucker got them in massive proportions. Best for the team on the whole. Who was Guy kidding? Tucker hadn't won in over a year—not enough reason to sack him, but more than enough for drastic measures. Then again, with Mat's unreliable performances at the various tracks around the circuit... She had nothing to comment about.
The idea of Janine showing Tucker around Blitz didn't sit well with her, either. She snorted. “Maybe Janine and Tucker should date.” The words tasted sour on her tongue. “God knows I need to get a life and forget about him."
Footsteps thumped in the hallway. The door to her office whipped open and King Valletta strolled into the room. His blue eyes twinkled as he raked his fingers through his sooty locks. “Are we on for Friday?"
"And hello to you, too.” She sighed. “If you mean the race, then I sure hope Janine set everything up.” Megan rolled her chair away from the desk and sat down. “These days, I have a hard time telling down from up."
"We do indeed race on Friday, but I meant our date.” King inched around the desk and sat on the edge. He flipped through the contents of her inbox. The muscles in his biceps bulged and the bottom spikes of his tribal tattoo peeked out from under his shirt sleeve. If the never-ending string of women peering at him from the fan walk and the spread in the local magazine were any indication, women thought he was hot. Who was she to think otherwise? Then again, to see him swagger through the team shop, it was evident he knew his attractiveness and used it to the highest degree.