“No one can see us up here.”
“Except the members of forty-two other racing teams.”
“They’re not interested in us.”
“Or the 4,236 cameras at the track.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“Yes.”
He leaned close and brushed his thumb along her jawline. “I thought we were discussing how much you care about me.”
“You’re killing me here.”
He wished he could see her eyes. “I’m trying to arouse you.”
“We have a race in a few hours.”
“Don’t we always?”
“I just wanted to apologize.”
“I’m accepting.”
“The flowers you left in my room were beautiful.”
He hadn’t sent a note, but he’d hoped she would realize who the yellow and red roses were from. “Yellow is for remembrance. I looked it up. I added the red for luck—for the team and to remind you there are other couples in NASCAR who race together.”
There were wives and girlfriends who played significant roles in drivers’ careers. Back in the day, a lot of the wives even kept the scoring books for the teams. Lexie’s job might be even more critical, but if those guys could manage it, so could he and Lexie. “Have you thought about dinner?”
“I haven’t really had time.”
“Especially since it takes so much effort to avoid me.”
“I haven’t been avoiding you. We’ve both been busy.”
He stuffed his ego and reminded himself he couldn’t expect her to spend every moment of the day thinking about him. She had as much, if not more, responsibility as he did.
She laid her hand over his, and his pulse jumped. “I’m trying to do my job.”
“And I’m making it more difficult.”
“Not on purpose. I just don’t want our personal relationship to get in the way of the race.”
He reached out and slid her sunglasses off her face. When her gaze met his, he saw the same warring emotions he’d seen for weeks in his mirror. Desire and responsibility. Longing and caution. She wanted him. She just didn’t want to want him. “Do we have a personal relationship?”
“We could, but—” She glanced off in the distance. “I’m scared of falling for you, Kane. I can’t go through that again.”
“It’ll be different this time,” he said, though he wasn’t sure himself. He just knew he was different.
And while he was sure he’d never be smart enough or sophisticated enough to measure up to her, he wanted to try. He wanted to make up for the past and see if their future could be one to share.
“Instead of dinner,” he said, “how about a party at my house? To celebrate making the top ten.”
“When?”
Whenever James can get things together. “Sunday night.”
“Is the rest of the team coming?”
“Sure.” A party with familiar people might take the pressure off their first official date in twelve years. “But I want you there with me.” When she hesitated, he continued, “I need something, Lexie. I need something from you that convinces me I’m not making a complete idiot out of myself.”
She had his body in a knot, his head spinning. He couldn’t let her walk away from them again. They could make it work this time.
LEXIE KNEW she’d have to make a decision soon, and now the time had come. She’d been protecting herself—and the team.
But mostly herself.
“There’s a lot at stake.”
“I know.”
She squeezed his hand. So many emotions rolled through her where Kane was concerned. They had a great deal of compromising to do to make their relationship work. A calmer, easygoing, more mature Kane would help make that happen. But could he be that man and still be a fierce competitor on the track? Could they have any hope of making a relationship work and still race together?
She thought of the warnings her father had given her earlier in the week, but ignoring her feelings certainly wasn’t making them go away. And though no one would approve, and she might be making a serious career and personal mistake, she could no longer deny them a second chance.
If she got her heart broken again? Well, hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.
“I’ll come to the party,” she said quietly. “For you. Not just for the team.”
His eyes lit with pleasure. “Wear that black dress?”
She laughed, the warmth of his hand against hers infusing her with confidence. “I don’t think so.”
“You can take it off anytime you want.”
It felt good to see his smile. The tension between them the past few weeks had made her forget how to relax with him. “No kidding. Anytime?”
He slid his hand higher up her leg. “Anytime.”
“Hey, buster, that’s still your car chief’s thigh. You have a race to run, so you’d better get your mind back there.”
His grin widened. “But my mind is happy where it is.”
“In the gutter, no doubt.” She stood. They both had a million things still to do. “What are we going to tell everybody?”
“Nothing. It’s none of their business.”
Skeptical, she stared at him. “You’re not going to say anything to James?”
“Maybe him, and everybody else will find out eventually. But let’s avoid your father. He, uh, warned me off a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah? He did the same thing to me.”
“Hey, Oil Man! Nice run!”
Lexie turned and looked down to see driver Bobby Cashman, one of their Hollister Racing teammates, walking by with some of his crew members.
“Stay off my bumper tonight, dude!” Kane yelled back as he stood. “I’m winning this one.”
Cashman and his buddies burst into laughter.
Lexie watched them move farther down pit road, but she spoke to Kane. “You’ve got to beat him.”
“He’s a teammate. Shouldn’t I cut him some slack?”
“You shouldn’t cut anybody slack tonight.”
“I know, I know. Fierce driving.”
“Definitely. And keep in mind that I bet a hundred bucks on you with Cashman’s crew chief.”
He laid his hands over his heart. “Oh, baby, I’m so touched.”
“And cut out the baby stuff. We’re working.”
“Yes, chief.”
She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Go to your interview. I’ve got a meeting with my father, and some online shopping to do.” She headed down the ladder.
“Shopping? You?”
She smiled up at him. “I wonder if Victoria’s Secret delivers overnight?”
HOW WAS A MAN supposed to drive a race car at 180 miles an hour with forty-two other guys and think about lingerie at the same time?
How was a man supposed to concentrate on remembering the names of key executives at Cookie, Inc., as they hosted the prerace dinner for him and the team? How was a man supposed to answer his mother’s questions about why the engines had to be so loud?
Simple. He wasn’t.
Focus was as much a part of his job as breathing. Lexie knew this. Yet she still smiled at him from across the sky box as if she knew some secret he didn’t. She’d twitched her hips as she climbed down that ladder this morning and had him fantasizing about what exactly she wore underneath her uniform.
Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.
“I know about the big engines, dear,” his mother said. “But why does it make that horrible noise?”
Damned if he could remember. He was too busy watching Lexie’s glossed lips move as she talked to James.
“The fans like it,” he managed to respond.
She shuddered. “They’re all going deaf.”
“Probably.”
She glanced around the luxury sky box hanging high over the track, where his sponsor had set up a buffet dinner, bar and several TVs. “It’s nice up here. Reminds me of the days after your father signed his apparel contract. It was
quite a change from the players’ wives’ section in the stadium to being able to watch the games from the suites. You remember that?”
“Uh-huh.” Lexie was sipping from a coffee mug, her lips closing around the rim.
“Of course these days, with all that money being thrown around, the players probably have their own boxes.”
“Probably.”
“It’s really gotten out of hand.”
Personally, Kane didn’t have a problem with anybody paying him buckets of money to do what he loved. He doubted any lineman, quarterback or wide receiver for the Cowboys thought differently. “Mmm. I guess.”
“How in the world did people survive without air-conditioning?”
“No idea.”
“Are you listening to me, Kane?”
Perched on the arm of the sofa where his mother sat, he finally looked down at her. “Absolutely.”
“You seem distracted.”
“Just thinking about the race.”
“Are you sure you’re not losing your hearing?” his mother asked.
With considerable effort, he pushed Lexie out of his mind. “Yes. I wear a helmet and radio earphones.”
“It must be ninety degrees out there still. Won’t you get hot and—” she shuddered “—sweaty?”
He grinned. “Mother, you’re such a girl.”
She lifted her hand to the pearls at her throat. “What else would I be?”
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I was complimenting you. You’re a lady. A true lady.”
She flushed and slid her hand down the lapel of her lavender suit jacket. “A flirt. Just like your father.”
Though he’d avoided his father during dinner, Kane directed his gaze to him now. No. No, I’m not. But I think I might be okay with that for the first time in my life.
He was much more impulsive and aggressive than his dad. But his control and maturity had needed work, and his dad had helped him with that. But Lexie was also right—his passion made him good at what he did.
Maybe he could succeed without being a copy. Maybe he could get to the top without being perfect. Maybe he didn’t need to measure up to anyone but himself.
“Of course, he took the flirting in stride and acted like a gentleman. A loyal husband and father.”
Deep down Kane knew that was true. His father loved the fame and attention, but he’d always honored his family. He smiled at his female fans, he played poker occasionally with his teammates, but he hadn’t fallen into the darker traps that financial windfalls and hero worship sometimes brought.
It was just that his focus on his son was for things he didn’t want to do. Football. Public relations. Broadcasting.
Kane was lousy at all that, and he’d never understood why his father refused to recognize those realities.
He held his mother’s hand. “I know.”
“Have you seen that ridiculous newspaper article?” She sniffed in derision. “We’d planned this trip months ago. Your father spent hours on the phone rearranging his schedule to be here.”
Guilt washed over him. His body went cold. He’d assumed, like James and Lexie, that his father had arranged a quick support trip after learning the article would be released. “Did he?”
“Disrespectful. That’s what these reporters are these days.”
“They’re just doing their jobs.”
“Humph. It’s embarrassing. Make sure you tell him you appreciate him coming, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am. The press will die down. Don’t worry.”
She squeezed his hand, then rose. “You’re a good boy.”
“I try.”
“I think I’ll have some wine.”
Kane raised his eyebrows. His mother drank wine at Christmas, New Year’s and the Super Bowl.
“I’ve hardly seen your father the last few months,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s Saturday night, and I have him all to myself.” With a sly wink, she glided toward the bar.
Good grief. That was way too much information.
But he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through his chest as he thought about his parents’ love still going strong so many years after his mother had waved her pom-poms in the future-great Anton Jackson’s face after NC State had decidedly trounced his North Carolina Tarheels.
Did he and Lexie have that kind of longevity and commitment?
He’d thought so at one time. But teenage idealism was a long way from the reality of making a relationship work for a lifetime. They’d decided to give their relationship another chance.
A lot of emotion stood between them, but was it enough? Or would the obstacles be too much to overcome?
After his mother left his side, his sponsor’s guests surged toward him. He respected the distance they’d given him while he had family time, so he smiled even more broadly for pictures and signed autographs for them and their kids. One woman had brought her nephew with her. The ten-year-old was suffering from leukemia, and the prognosis was iffy.
Kane spent the rest of the party with the boy. There was no doubt the world had its share of suffering, but seeing it on the news and confronting pain in the face of a child was something entirely different. Every driver on the NASCAR circuit generously gave money and time to children’s charities—by choice, not obligation.
“It’s time to go,” Lexie said, touching his arm as Kane watched the young cancer victim walk away with his mother.
“Yeah.” Kane swallowed. The kids, sick or well, reminded him how lucky he was. He looked over at Lexie. “He’s only ten.”
She slid her hand down his arm to clutch his hand. “I know.”
He let her lead him from the room. By the time they reached the infield, he became aware of her hand in his. The pall that had covered him faded. His fans and his team expected him to race his best, and he could do that, at the least.
“People are going to talk,” he said to Lexie.
“Probably,” she said, though she didn’t release his hand.
They picked up James and Pete as they made their way to the car. They passed other drivers and team members. They got high-fives and some trash talking. Kane paused to sign a few autographs and talk with fans.
Lexie never moved from his side.
It was odd and encouraging. He wasn’t exactly sure whether she was there as his car chief or his Saturday-night date, but he was grateful. The closer he got to the stage for driver introductions, the more nervous he became.
Their season was on the line. His reputation, respect within his family, respect among his fellow drivers, sponsor dollars, future sponsor dollars, the team’s confidence, even everybody’s jobs.
He knew the disappointment of failure. He’d never made The Chase. He’d never known that marketing boost, that validation. He wanted to succeed more than he wanted to draw his next breath. The Sunday-night party he wanted to have with Lexie was going to be over before it started if he didn’t finish well tonight.
And it would all be decided in a matter of hours.
As each driver was introduced, cheers erupted from the stands. The track lights highlighted their ecstatic faces and colorful race wear. Fans and drivers alike loved Richmond. The cars went fast, and the drivers had to use every ounce of skill and ingenuity to make their way around the track and come home with a good finish.
“You’ll be fine,” Lexie said when they stood in their pit box next to the car.
Kane glanced up and down pit road. Other drivers were talking and laughing with their wives and girlfriends. Kisses and hugs were exchanged. Some prayed. It was an important, sometimes tense time for families.
He’d never trusted a woman enough to bring her into this circle, into this strange club where struggles and lost opportunities were as common as fame and fortune. His romantic relationships were short-lived and mostly superficial. He liked having Lexie beside him, even if no one else knew that the reason for her being there had changed.
“In fact, you’d better do gr
eat,” Lexie continued. “That car I gave you is damn near perfect.”
Smiling, he angled his head. “Near perfect?”
“Plus or minus driver error.”
“Naturally.”
She laid her hands on his shoulders and pulled him close for a quick hug. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
“I’ll be there with you.”
“I know.” His nerves were fading in favor of anticipation. He could do this. They could do this. Together.
“It’s time,” James said as he approached.
Lexie squeezed his arm one last time, then backed away. The next time he’d hear her voice it would be on the radio.
When Kane climbed into the race car, his pulse was calm. Just another day at the office. It wasn’t, of course, but it helped to focus on something normal.
“Hey,” he said to James, “can you organize a party for tomorrow night?”
James grinned. “A top-ten party?”
“Just in case.”
“I can throw something together. Anybody in particular you want me to invite?”
“If we make The Chase, they can all come.” He waved his hand toward the thousands of rowdy people in the stands. “Other than that, the usual crowd.”
“Women included?”
“Ah…no. Lexie and I are going together.”
James looked as though he might argue, then he shook his head and laughed. “If anybody can make it happen, it’s you and Lexie.”
“I hope so.”
James handed him his helmet. “Have a good race, man.”
“Thanks.”
As James turned away, Harry stuck his head in the window. “Relax.”
“I am.”
“HumPh. Don’t look relaxed.”
“It’s all on the line tonight.”
“It’s all on the line every week. Nothing special about tonight. Just another race to finish.”
“And to place where?” Kane had asked this question several times of several different people and gotten blown off. No one wanted to freak him out and tell him he had to win to guarantee a spot in the top ten. And while he was pretty sure that wasn’t the case, he knew the finishing number had to be high. The number went down in instances where higher-placed drivers finished badly, but he had no control over their races, so he wanted to know what he had to do. The worst-case scenario.
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