by Vella Munn
Would Reed?
The speedometer needle inched forward as she pressed down on the accelerator. Almost out of reach of the headlights, Mara caught the movement of a rabbit hopping off the track. She would show the rabbit that, unlike him, she didn’t run. The Corvette responded, taking the course as if the car had been born to it. If the grease slicks hadn’t still been on the track, Mara might have brought the vehicle up to racing speed. Still, it helped to be doing this much, and she convinced herself that she was the only one inside the small space. After circling five times, Mara felt ready for the next challenge, almost.
Because she didn’t want to have to contend with traffic, she waited until close to midnight before heading toward the freeway her abductor had left the Corvette on. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be home, waiting to hear from Reed. Writing her mother about him.
But there’d been another man. A man with a knife.
Eighty-five miles an hour, a fraction of what her family took for granted. Mara whizzed past a couple of trucks, not taking her hands off the steering wheel when they waved at her. The left-hand lane had been recently resurfaced and the Corvette moved easily over it, engine humming. Mara breathed in night air and pushed down the gas pedal. The Corvette responded. Ninety. Ninety-five. The world became haze. Signs whipped past almost before she was aware of their existence. The median strip was a blur. A little more pressure.
So Reed wanted to see her family compete, did he? If he were here tonight, if he saw her control, he would tell her she belonged with them.
Or would he?
Something distracted her. When she took her eyes off the road, it was for less than half a second. But that was all it took to break her concentration.
Mara wasn’t alone after all. She could sense a man beside her. A man with a knife. A laughing, animal-man.
The Corvette slowed.
Chapter Eleven
On Saturday Clint suggested they attend a unique car show together. The idea of viewing automobiles her father had raced against was appealing, but what tipped the scales was Clint’s unnecessary reminder that her alternative was to spend the day rattling around a too-silent house. Waiting. Wondering when Reed would call, where he was, what he was doing, if he was all right. Making herself half-crazy.
Mara was walking out with the keys to the loaner when she forced herself to look at the Corvette. “No. Damn it. You can’t rob me of everything,” she hissed. Despite the firm words, it took an act of courage to walk over to her car and slip inside. Before leaving the driveway, Mara spun the radio dial until she found a talk show. She drove slowly and concentrated on that.
That and Reed.
Clint was pacing when Mara pulled up at his apartment complex. He jumped into the passenger’s seat. Thanks to Clint’s chatter about having convinced his parents to spend the day with a realtor, she was able to hold back the image of the man who preceded him in the passenger’s seat, and halfway convince herself that tying herself into knots about Reed’s safety changed nothing.
The huge showroom was filled to capacity with displays of cars that had raced at places most of the people present had never seen. Mara and Clint wandered from one auto to another, commenting on features that meant nothing to the majority of spectators. For her, each car triggered a response. A blue Maserati had been driven by a highly competitive man who’d put such unreasonable demands on his sponsors that he finally lost all of them. The red Ferrari with the crumpled rear fender? Its driver was a close family friend. Although she intended her stories to be for Clint, it wasn’t long before they picked up an interested audience. Parents wanted Mara to tell their eager-eyed sons about the hard work and sacrifice behind the glamor of racing. She met a man her father’s age who had worked on several professional pit crews, and although Clint became a little restless, Mara was reluctant to put an end to the conversation.
“You know what I’ve been thinking,” Mara told Clint when they had a minute alone. “So much money went into the development of these cars. Then, bam, they became obsolete. Race drivers owe so much to their sponsors.”
“They wouldn’t have sponsors if they didn’t have the guts to get out on a track,” Clint reminded her. “It’s a mutually dependent relationship.”
Mara started to answer but stopped when Clint pointed.
Reed was here. Alive. Safe, for now.
For a moment Mara did nothing but stare, absorbing that essential fact. She wanted to give Clint a casual nod so he wouldn’t guess what she’d been going through, but she felt too light-headed with relief for that. Still, was the man weaving his way through the crowds really someone she knew?
Reed wore a white turtleneck that clung to him, accenting his body’s strong lines. A gold chain circled his throat. He’d combed his hair in a rakish style Mara had never seen that changed him in a way that disturbed her. He set his lips in a hard line as his eyes remained boldly focused on the man he was talking to.
Clint whispered, “What do you think he’s doing here?”
“I don’t know.” Mara gripped Clint’s forearm. “We can’t let anyone know we recognize him.”
“Do you want to leave?”
Mara hadn’t seen all the cars on display, but that wasn’t why she shook her head. Even if she knew better than to acknowledge his presence, she needed to be near Reed, to have proof that he really had been, and still was, part of her life. That the insane world he lived in hadn’t swallowed him.
The next car Clint dragged her to, an older Aston Martin, momentarily held Mara’s attention. The driver was on hand to give out autographs and answer questions. Although he’d never raced against her father, Mara and the lean man found people and races in common to talk about. Carrying on a conversation helped. If she was going to keep her turmoil to herself, she had to act normal, whatever that was.
Mara knew when Reed joined them; her nerve endings transmitted that essential information. Finally, keeping the search casual, she turned to take in the bystanders. For a half second their gazes locked; there was time for only the briefest message. I missed you, Mara transmitted.
I missed you, she read in return.
Mara hadn’t paid attention to the large, flashily dressed man with Reed before. What she saw now chilled her. His eyes were even colder than Reed’s.
The beefy man nodded. “You sound as if you know what you’re talking about,” he said. “Not one of those damn groupies, are you?”
“It depends on what your definition of a groupie is,” Mara said, her tones clipped. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the man to assess Reed’s reaction.
“You figure it out. You know, I lay money on Indy every year, but I wouldn’t remember the name of last year’s winner unless I had backed him.” The man poked an elbow at Reed. “My friend here, he knows racers. Photographic memory. You remember this lady’s old man, Lane?”
“Lane” nodded. His cool and assessing eyes remained on the man who’d poked him. “Mark Curtis was a pioneer,” he said. “Tried some things that hadn’t been tried before. Most of them panned out. I admire a man like that.”
“A man with guts. Yeah. You’d like that all right.” The big man took a step closer to Mara. His mix of cologne and sweat clogged her nostrils. “Join us for a drink. I’ve always been interested in what it’s like down in the trenches. You know, the behind-the-scenes scoop. Can a driver really fix a race?”
Despite the impulse to tell the man to shut up, Mara simply shook her head. This man was part of the underworld Reed had infiltrated. He wanted nothing more than to goad her. “I’ve always made a point of not talking shop with outsiders,” she said.
“Outsider?” The man’s cold laugh grated on her nerves. “I’m hardly that. What’s the matter? You afraid you’re going to give away trade secrets? Maybe you should be.”
Mara fought down a shudder. Before she could think of anything to say, Clint wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “Does that invitation for a drink include me?” he asked.
/> The big man gave Clint a telling glare. “What are you, her bodyguard?”
“Hardly. The lady and I are getting married.”
Not missing a beat, Mara slipped her arm around Clint’s waist and looked up at him, adoration shining in her eyes. “Next month, no matter what my father says. We don’t need his money.”
Reed shrugged and started to turn away. “We don’t need this, Zack.”
“Says who? I’d like to match wits with this one. It sounds like she’ll stand up to anyone.”
“And I’m supposed to care? Look, if you want to play games, do it without me.”
It was Zack’s turn to shrug. “Don’t get all bent out of shape.” He grunted as Mara and Clint moved off. “The lady had her hackles up. I just wanted to see if it was more than bluff.”
Reed’s cold laugh was the last sound Mara heard until Clint touched her. “You all right?”
No. She wasn’t. “I’ve…never seen him act like that.”
“That wasn’t Reed. Wow! I hardly recognized him.”
“Do you—” Mara tried again. “Do you think he’s all right?”
“All right? That man knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Mara needed to believe Clint. If she didn’t, she’d rush after Reed and haul him away from that evil-looking man. “He does, doesn’t he?”
“I know I’d hire him if I needed something dangerous done. I wonder what I’d have to do to get into that line of work?”
Mara didn’t bother trying to answer the question. Mindful of the fact that Zack might still be watching, she turned back to the race car driver she’d been talking to. She couldn’t look at Reed again, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t talk to him. She had to become what Reed needed her to be.
Another hour passed. By then Mara and Clint had seen everything, including the fact that Reed and Zack were no longer at the show. “We could grab a bite before you take me home,” Clint suggested. “I know this fantastic hot-dog stand. Dutch?”
“Hot dogs?” Mara tried joking. “Do you know what your mother would say if she heard you?”
“What my mother doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt any of us.” Clint glanced at his watch. “If Dad’s strength is holding up, I don’t imagine they’re done looking at places yet. I could starve waiting for them.”
Shaking her head, Mara led the way through the crowded parking lot to her Corvette. She wasn’t sure her stomach was in any shape for hot dogs, but neither was she in any hurry to return to the silence of her home.
“Do you really think your folks are serious about looking at places?” she asked as she reached for her key. “They’d be able to—”
An ice-cream cone, or rather what was left of it, was running off the Corvette’s hood. For a mind-numbing half minute, Mara simply stared at frothy pink liquid surrounding small bits of strawberry.
“Damn.” Clint swept the mess off the hood with the back of his hand. It plopped onto the pavement, the soggy cone splitting apart. “Kids!”
“Kids?”
“Yeah. Someone didn’t like their ice cream so they thought it would be a joke to plant it on your car. Look—” Clint pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and began rubbing at what remained, “—I think we’d better get this washed. It could damage the paint.”
“The paint?” Think! Why couldn’t she think? “Yes,” Mara went on when Clint turned to her. “I don’t want…that.”
“Are you all right? You look like you just met up with you-know-who. The guy who attacked you.”
Desperate, Mara sucked in a lungful of night air. Please, she thought. Please don’t remind me of that.
Only, it was too late.
It was almost midnight on Sunday before Reed managed to break away again. He left the Jag at the hotel and put in an order under an assumed name to have a rental left in the parking lot. He made a show of telling the hotel staff he had some long-distance calls to make and didn’t want to be disturbed. Then, when he was sure there was no one in the hall, Reed slipped out. He kept to the shadows until he reached the rental. A minute later he was pulling out of the lot, sure that, if Zack was having him watched, the tail would think he was still in his room.
Mara obviously didn’t need him showing up trying to play white knight. She’d made that clear at the car show. It didn’t matter. He needed to see her. Oh God, how he needed to see her!
Although Lobo was already growling, Reed rang the doorbell. He heard Mara’s soft footsteps, but she didn’t open the door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“Mara.” He held on to her name, making it real. “It’s me.”
“Reed.” He heard the lock give and then she stood in front of him with the living room light behind her and her eyes huge. Reed breathed. Yes. It was her, reaching for him. For a moment he simply held on, fingers to fingers, breathing in her light perfume. The scent swirled through him, confusing him. Then Reed, unable to bear the emptiness any longer, drew her close. Her soft yet strong curves nestled against him. He felt her body’s heat and for the first time in days felt warm. She trembled.
“Mara?” Emotion rolled out of him. “Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? It’s late, Reed. I didn’t expect you.”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“Leave? Oh no. I—I didn’t mean that.”
He should have stayed where he needed to be. There was risk in coming here. But seeing her, hearing her, taking her into his arms, right now was what Reed longed for in his life.
She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering in the overhead light. He pressed his fingers and palms gently against the side of her neck. Her pulse beat ever so gently, ever so faintly. She’d parted her lips slightly, and he could no more ignore that than he could give up breathing. Asking, he covered her mouth with his. Their kiss began delicately, almost shyly. Then, slowly, wonderfully, things changed. Hours, days, weeks of wanting her ruled him. He tasted her, darting his tongue between her soft lips, gaining entrance.
She let him in. That was the greatest wonder of all. Despite everything he’d put her through yesterday, she welcomed him.
In the distance a coyote howled faintly. Reed’s thoughts caught on the lonely sound. That had been him today, a solitary coyote waiting for night. Waiting to hold this woman in his arms. To know she wanted him here.
To no longer be alone.
Mara sighed. He felt the whisper of sound as it vibrated against and into him. His heart quickened, and he held her even tighter. Their lips remained locked together in silent awareness. Silent need. She wore perfume, or dusting powder, or something, that reminded him of roses. Her roses.
How could he think of roses? Mara rested her weight on her toes, the gesture increasing the contact between them. Reed held her tight against him. She wore her nightshirt. It moved freely under his hands, teasing and tantalizing him. It would take so little to strip her. Instead Reed simply held her, listening to her heart beat.
He had no right to ask her to become his lover. All he deserved, all he could ask for was this simple and yet incredibly complex embrace.
A long minute later Mara sighed again. She, or maybe it was he, was shaking. “Lobo started barking,” she whispered, her breath grazing his throat. “I didn’t think you’d— I’m glad it was you.”
“Lobo? What’s he doing inside?”
“What?”
“I thought you might be keeping him outside. So he could warn you.”
“He did. He heard you.” Still trembling, Mara reached for him again, putting an end to her words. She was heat in his arms; Reed wanted nothing in life except this moment. To admit, if only to himself, that he had been waiting a lifetime to be wanted and needed by someone.
“Were you asleep?” he asked.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think? What do you mean?”
She drew back, maybe a half inch. Maybe a mile. “Reed? Where is the Jag?”
“The Jag?” Reed forced himself to concentr
ate. “It’s a long story.” Because he didn’t trust his strength any more than he trusted his emotions, Reed led the way into the living room, closed the door behind him and sat them both on the couch. After days of holding himself in check, of mistrusting every move, every word, after weighing everything he said, the need to be himself almost overwhelmed him. “You don’t want to hear it.”
“Yes I do.” Her body, soft and strong, distracted his. “Everything.”
Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? How hard she would make the leaving? “You smell wonderful. What is it?”
“Rose-scented talc,” Mara whispered. “My mother gave me some last year. I forgot I had it until…”
Reed took her hands and rested them on his thigh. His muscles contracted at the contact. “Until when?”
“After I got back home from seeing you with Zack. I went out to water my flowers and then, I was thinking of you.”
She’d been thinking of him. “I love it,” he told her. I love you, echoed through him for the first time.
The unbidden words served as Reed’s warning. He still felt the impact of Mara’s fingers resting on his thigh; there was no way he could fortify himself against that.
But he still didn’t understand enough of what Mara was doing to him. Until he did, he had to protect his vulnerable core. He had to shield himself against caring too much, against exposing more. He could do that, couldn’t he? After all, he’d spent his adult life protecting himself from the painful lessons of his childhood. “I can’t stay long,” he forced himself to say. “I wish I could, but… Maybe I just should have called.” Her hands still heated the taut flesh and muscle beneath his jeans. “I wanted to tell you, I was damn proud of the way you acted. You didn’t give a thing away.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say. But the other? The other terrified him.
“Neither did you,” she said with her eyes on his. “Reed? You were so cold. So distant.”
“Was I? When I’m working undercover I become a chameleon. What my contact needs, that’s what I become. Zack is a cold man. He doesn’t give a damn about anything except himself.”