He aimed his rental car for a stretch of beach forty-five minutes south of the city. Lots of people ran the Stanley Park seawall, or in the park near his hotel, but too many knew his face.
This was his time, with no fans, no public smiles.
The sand-and-gravel path skirting Crescent Beach was usually deserted in the early mornings. The few other joggers he met this morning either didn’t recognize him or didn’t care. By the time he left the beach, he was energized and ready for anything.
Before joining the commuters on their way into the city, he stopped at a 24-hour donut shop to grab juice and a muffin. He checked out the little blond coffee clerk’s figure while she bent to bag some muffins for the customer ahead of him. The man left, holding the paper bag and balancing a travel tray with three coffee cups.
Harry stepped up to the counter.
“May I take your order?” Her eyes were the clear blue of a mountain lake.
Harry’s breath caught. He turned it into a cough. “Sorry—could I get an apple juice, please, and a blueberry fiber muffin? For here.” His heart rate was up. Must have overdone the run.
Her fingertips brushed his palm as she gave him his change. His skin tingled from the contact. He jammed the coins into the pocket of his running shorts and tried to look casual. Glanced at her nametag. “Thanks, Gina.” A pretty name. It suited her.
She smiled at him. “I’ll just be a second.” She took a few steps to the clerk at the other till. She couldn’t be more than seventeen, perky and blue-eyed. Her slender form under the plain brown apron invited a closer look. Her blond hair shone. If she let it free of the hairnet and ponytail, it would cascade halfway down her back. The image sent a tingle up his spine.
He didn’t get it. Beautiful women were part of his lifestyle. What was there about this girl that captured him?
If she noticed him staring, she didn’t seem to mind. She whispered with her co-worker and nodded in his direction. He was used to being recognized. It went with the territory. This time, he hoped it would score him some points.
She hurried back with a bottle of apple juice—small hands, short nails with clear polish—and set a large muffin on a plate. “Heated?”
“Yeah—uh, no, thanks. Cold is fine. No butter. Do you have jam?”
“Strawberry okay?” She dipped below the counter, then placed two packets on the plate and slid his order across the counter. “Um, we were wondering... Are you Harry Silver?”
Grinning, he dropped his voice. “You’re sworn to secrecy. I don’t want the press seeing me after a run. Not that I want lovely ladies seeing me this way, either...”
Man, he hoped he didn’t stink.
She turned a delicious shade of rose. Before he could say anything else, she greeted the next customer in line. Harry kicked his brain back in gear and picked up his tray. He chose a corner table and settled back to enjoy the scenery.
He watched Gina put on a fresh pot of coffee. Maybe he needed some caffeine, to get him thinking straight. What did it matter if some kid working a minimum wage job found him attractive? They were free for the picking at the track, and he rarely noticed them.
He folded his paper napkin in half, then folded it again. It was a long time since he’d had a woman. This one was young, fresh. Why not?
Gina smiled as she handed a take-out tray of coffee to a man in a ball cap and painter’s overalls. Harry studied her face, neck, arms. She was slight enough to look delicate. Would she let him get rough?
She couldn’t stop him.
The thought aroused him. Surprised, he looked away. It turned him on to watch the violent stuff, to fantasize about it, but he’d never considered acting on it.
He swallowed the last of his muffin. No woman was going to give him what he wanted... what his imagination thrived on. And if he took it—took anything, for that matter, his career would be shattered.
His gaze flicked back to Gina. If he could play her like the porn flicks...
Harry gulped the rest of his juice, flung his garbage in the trash and fled.
Once he reached his hotel, a long, cold shower doused most of the fire. Still, the idea tingled on the edge of his thoughts all day. It energized him to a stunning performance testing the race car, but made it hard to focus during the afternoon autograph session.
He sat behind a table in the middle of a sporting goods store, a stack of promotional photos at hand, signing them and joking with his fans. It might not give him the rush that racing did, but it was part of the job. These were the people who drove the sport, and for that he appreciated them. If they thought he was a hero, well, that was a perk, too.
Today he had trouble concentrating, and his gaze darted to the door every time it opened. Would Gina come? His appearance schedule was everywhere, including online. If not today, would she show up at one of his other signings?
He couldn’t tell if the shiver inside him was longing or fear. He’d never felt this way before. Instinct said it was dangerous, maybe more than he could handle.
Session over, he left the store feeling vaguely depressed. She hadn’t come.
Next on the schedule was a black-tie gala fundraiser. Harry barely had time to change at the hotel, but he stole a few minutes to flip through the succulent magazines he’d brought. He studied the models’ bodies, their faces, hoping to push the little blond coffee clerk from his mind.
The suite phone rang. Harry answered, his eyes lingering on a particularly provocative pose.
“Harry, the limo’s waiting. We’re going to be late.”
He’d lost ten minutes. “I’ll be right there.” He shoved the magazines into his suitcase and snapped the lock. As he stepped into the hallway, his rebellious imagination flashed him pose after pose from the magazines... all wearing Gina’s face.
His step faltered. The elevator pinged and the door opened. He summoned his professional smile as a middle-aged couple stepped out. Suck it up, Silver. You can beat this.
Chapter 12
After his run the next morning, Harry headed for the donut shop. The little blonde wasn’t anything special. Seeing her in the clear light of day, instead of last night’s torrid dreams, would end this foolishness.
He stopped just inside the door. She wasn’t there. Her plump co-worker from yesterday grinned at him. “Good morning.”
Harry dug up his public smile and approached the counter. He’d look like a fool, asking for Gina. This older clerk, Brenda by her nametag, was alone. Maybe Gina was in the back. And if it were her day off, he could come back tomorrow.
Brenda leaned forward. “Welcome back, Mr. Silver. I didn’t want to say it when the other customers could hear. And good luck in the race on Sunday.” She’d gone pink, too. Women.
“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”
“What can I get you?”
“Apple juice please, and—” he scanned the muffin bins. “One of those fruit jumble ones looks good. Cold, please, with strawberry jam.” No need to draw things out like he had yesterday with Gina.
He paid, and Brenda assembled his order with care. “You’re careful with what you eat. That’s good.” She leaned nearer again. “Check the ingredient list on our website. These muffins have as much fat as the donuts.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” He put a few coins on the counter and headed for the same table he’d used yesterday. He’d been too addled to remember a tip last time. What had Gina thought of that?
Harry checked his watch. He had cut his run short to have a little longer here if needed. Good thing. He raised the bottle of juice to his lips for the barest sip, and waited. The electricity sparking in his system felt a lot like race day, in the cockpit, waiting for the starter’s signal.
This was crazy. As soon as he saw the real Gina, the ordinary teenager and not the hot siren of his dreams, he’d be fine. He could get on with the day. She’s just a cute kid, Silver. You’ll see.
He swallowed some more juice, and set the bottle down as the door behind the
counter opened. Gina walked in with a tray of fresh muffins. Energy shot through him, a golden stream, too hot for his body to hold but he needed more.
Brenda pointed him out, and Gina gave a shy little wave. He remembered to breathe, and raised his glass in a surprisingly steady salute.
Crazy. Whatever this girl had, it pushed all the right buttons.
He peeled the paper from his muffin, keeping her in easy view. He wanted her so badly. But he wanted her his way, like the glossy images that fed his fantasies. It wasn’t going to happen. He set the muffin back on its paper and twirled it slowly.
Just thinking about Gina had given him an edge in practice yesterday. If she wanted to creep into his imagination, maybe he should let her.
He broke off an edge of muffin and popped it into his mouth. Why not watch her, mentally stalk her, play it as a game? Let the thrill fire him for the race. She’d never know, and it would give him extra brilliance on the track. Of course he would never touch her, but there was no law against daydreaming.
Rule one: don’t give yourself away. He turned in his seat so she was only visible from the corner of his eye. He’d keep track of her movements, but concentrate on listening. After all, her image was already burned into his retinas.
He had about ten more minutes before he had to leave, so he picked at his muffin and listened to the cadence of her voice as she served customers.
A dark-haired girl came into the shop, and Gina called out, “Hey, stranger. Welcome back.”
The newcomer headed for Gina’s cash register. “I hoped you’d be working today. Is Jay around for the summer? Oh, and could I have a medium double-double?”
Gina’s laugh made Harry’s scalp tingle. “You still crushing on my brother? Yeah, he’s home, doing landscaping for the summer. He’s putting in long hours, since he’s not with you-know-who anymore, but I think he’s coming to my game tonight, if you wanted to show up to watch.”
“Text me the field and time?”
“Sure. Here’s your coffee.”
The dark-haired girl rooted in her purse. “I want to see your new puppy sometime, too. The pictures you posted on Facebook are adorable.” She paid and picked up her cup. “Thanks. See you tonight.”
Harry finished his apple juice and crumpled the muffin paper. He had to go, too. He paused near the counter. “Thanks, ladies. Have a good one.”
They both smiled and blushed. He held Gina’s gaze for an extra second, just for the thrill.
Sifting it through on the drive back to Vancouver, he thought this first day was a failure. So she had a brother. A puppy. He wasn’t doing a character sketch of the girl, for Pete’s sake. He needed useful information—her shift times, where she parked her car, where to find her alone.
Tomorrow he’d do better, make conversation, see what he could discover. He’d have to be discreet. He didn’t want her spilling her guts to some gossip columnist about an imaginary infatuation.
Next morning he leaned against the stainless steel counter while Brenda rang in his order. “Cranberry juice today, please, and a yogurt. Thanks for the heads-up on the muffins.”
She smiled and took his money, then set his snack on the tray. “You’re welcome. I hear racing drivers need to be a lot fitter than people think.”
“I’m impressed. Not many people know that.” He had to flirt equally with both of them, keep it light. Fantasy game aside, he didn’t want to let on how deeply Gina attracted him. He’d be gone in a few days. Why get her hopes up?
There was nobody in line behind him. He slid the tray nearer but didn’t pick it up. “You know, I can tell a lot about a woman by the kind of car she drives. What’s your ride?”
Brenda glanced at the polished countertop and then back at Harry. “I sling coffee for a living. That buys me a beat-up old Escort. But I’d love one of the new Camaros. Black, of course.”
Harry let out a slow whistle. “Impressed again.” He glanced at Gina, walking toward them with an empty tray. “What about you?”
She pinked like she always did when he talked to her. “Me what?”
Brenda chuckled. “He has this theory about women and cars. What do you drive?”
Gina shrugged. “My parents’ Subaru, when I can get it. Usually it’s feet or bus.”
Harry frowned a bit as if her words troubled him. “Hey, is it safe to use transit for this job? You probably come in awfully early.”
“It’s fine. The stop’s just around the corner, and it’s well-lit. This is a safe area.”
“You can’t be too careful.” The bell over the door jingled, and Harry picked up his tray to make room for a trio of teen boys in old t-shirts and scraggy jeans.
He nursed his drink and listened for Gina’s voice. She must have gone into the back again, but after a few minutes one of the boys asked, “Gina, you up for the beach later today? We’re only working till noon.”
Harry spooned some yogurt and pretended not to care. After a minute she said, “Thursday’d be better, or Friday. I’ll be off.”
The boy snorted. “Boss’ll likely have us working all day. We’re almost done with this job, and he’s got a new roof lined up for tomorrow.”
“Well, okay. Pick me up at home?”
“Sure. Don’t work too hard.” The boy raised his cup in salute, and the three walked out. Harry watched them climb into a heavy pickup with ladders on the back.
Harry waited for a break in customer traffic before getting up to leave. He paused at the counter. “Thanks again. I hope it doesn’t get too busy with just the two of you.”
Brenda measured fresh coffee into a row of filters. “We get ready ahead of the rush, and we have another girl join us in about half an hour. It’s not too bad.”
Gina covered a yawn. “And I only have to stay until nine. Brenda’s full-time, so she’s here till noon.”
Harry fought back a triumphant grin. This girl volunteered way too much information. Her parents should be worried. Nine o’clock... he’d check the bus schedules when he got home. Hopefully there weren’t too many routes at that stop.
He checked his watch. “Time for me to get back to town and start my workday. It’s a rough life. See you tomorrow.”
So Thursday and Friday were Gina’s days off. Harry went each day anyway. He needed the snack to replenish from his run, and he needed to keep up the banter with Brenda. That’s what he’d do if he were stalking Gina for real. It made this game of make-believe a little more exciting, to pretend it was real.
Those visits dragged, though. The counter staff’s casual chatter jarred his ears. He tuned them out and dreamed of Gina, and his plans for her. He’d chosen Monday as his mental target date, to let his fantasies energize his race weekend. Gina would be working both days, and he’d drive with extra fire in his veins.
Race day, Sunday, dawned overcast and threatened rain, but by the time the cars were on the starting grid the sun had burned through. Harry blazed around the narrow street circuit, holding the lead until his first pit stop. Now he had six places to claw back, all held by top drivers fighting for position. They’d have to stop too, but he couldn’t wait. This was what he lived for—the energy, the challenge.
Today, he also had Gina. His mind had no room for the stalking game in the middle of the race, but he’d seen her before coming to the track and the electricity still danced under his skin.
Relentless, merciless and slick, he found or made passing opportunities and re-took first place. The competition was too tight to let him pull out a comfortable lead, but that made it a better race.
With only nine laps of eighty-five remaining, Harry made his final stop and clinched the win, barring mechanical failure. He loved this, when victory was in the bag, and all he had to do was take it.
The radio crackled an update. “Harry, the pace car’s been deployed. There’s a three-car tangle in the middle of the pack.”
“Thanks.” He breathed in through his nose, held for a five-count, and released his frustration. T
hey’d been lucky so far. This tight, concrete-walled course was notoriously crash prone, but the fans loved the street circuits. He loved them too—the extra challenges added more to the game.
A game he planned to win, to impress a certain blond coffee clerk. Not that she’d be here in the high-price seats, but he knew she’d check out the results. Maybe see coverage of the final lap. He wanted to deliver a dramatic finish, not be led over the line by the pace car with the others all bunched up behind.
The modified street car, roof lights flashing, pulled onto the track, and Harry slid into place behind it. The line of racers snaked around the track at reduced speed, picking their way through the crash site a few corners later.
Harry grimaced. One of the cars had already been removed, and as he passed he saw the second being winched away by a huge crane. The third lay sideways, barely off the racing line. Pieces of splintered chassis littered the track, but those were avoidable. Danger came from what he couldn’t see—tiny shards of carbon-fiber that could shred his tires.
He felt it on the next corner. A slight pull to the left, the steering a bit heavy. Harry pushed down his irritation and radioed for fresh tires. As much as it burned to pull into the pit lane now, he couldn’t make it to the end with a puncture. Not if the pace car left the track and they finished at racing speed. The tire rubber would de-laminate in long strips and flail his chassis to bits.
The team had the new tire on in seconds. They didn’t add fuel—no need—but one of the mechanics wiped Harry’s visor with a cloth. Released, his fight began. He took it slow out of the pit lane until he reached the track. If enough others had to pit too, if the pace car released them with enough laps remaining for him to do something, he’d nail this yet.
There was the signal. Final lap before the pace car left the track. Harry’s gloved fingers clenched the steering wheel and he consciously loosened them, listening to the team’s update. Of the thirteen cars remaining, half had come in for tires or a last-minute fuel splash-and-dash. He’d been the first, which put the others behind him now.
With the pace car gone, racing resumed in earnest. Harry felt the rush as he opened the throttle, but it wasn’t strong enough to gain a win. He needed an edge. He let fantasies of Gina creep onto the edge of his thoughts. If this victory would be sweet, it was nothing to what he’d imagined for tomorrow.
Heaven's Prey Page 8