Full Throttle (3 page)

What was wrong with him?

They were professional colleagues now. High school was long over. Their relationship didn't extend beyond friendship.

A fact that was cemented when a group of female fans approached their table and asked for his autograph. Showing no signs of resentment, Lexie laughed along with the rest of the group and even volunteered to take their picture with him. After his jealous rumblings all night, Kane felt like an even bigger heel for kissing her yesterday.

At the time, he was sure she'd responded with their old fire, but clearly reading female responses was lost on him unless the woman happened to be pressing a hotel key in his hand—as the blond autograph-seeker was currently doing.

“I'm at the Best Western,” she said close to his ear. “Room 242.”

He'd had similar experiences before—had even accepted a couple of times early in his career—but he inevitably wondered what the woman really wanted. The pedal-to-the-metal driver on the track? Anton Jackson's son? A signed photo, with a “Thanks for the magical night” scrawled on the back? Did they care that he liked green beans and hated brussel sprouts?

He smiled at the woman and nudged James's elbow—their long-established distress signal.

“Well, ladies.” James clapped his hands and slid out of the booth. “It was great meeting you. Be sure to check out Kane's Web site for his upcoming appearances.” Like the slick pro he was, James had the women shuffling away seconds later, content with their autographs.

“Let's get out of here,” he said as he turned back to them.

Back at the hotel, Kane, James and Lexie met by mutual agreement in James's room. He and Kane popped a couple of beers, and James even convinced Lexie to have some wine he ordered from room service. They relaxed in the living area, watched ESPN and went over the weekend schedule.

“The car'll qualify well,” Lexie said. “It's the same body and setup from last spring when Kane won.”

“You know the drill, man,” James said. “Stay patient and out of trouble.”

Lexie nodded. “Be flexible early in the race, then you can bump people out of the way later.”

Kane shook his head. “I'm not bumping anybody out of the way.”

“If somebody's won't move, and you have a stronger car, you will.”

“I don't need to win that way.”

“You need to win any way you can.”

James leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Kids, kids, let's not fight.”

A cell phone rang, and James snatched his off the coffee table. After a quick grin, he rose. “I'd better take this in the other room.”

Lexie watched him stroll into the bedroom and close the door. “The man has more women on his line than a fisherman has minnows.”

“Hasn't he always?” Kane said, feeling nerves jump in his stomach again.

Why did being alone with Lexie always affect him this way? Why was he questioning the wisdom of his championship-winning crew chief and team owner? Why had they felt the need to bring
her
into the mix? They were doing just—Okay, so maybe they weren't doing just fine.

He'd never made The Chase. His highest year-end finish was sixteen. He had brilliant people all around him, and yet something was wrong. The chemistry wasn't right.

But did he really need
her
to push him? Did he really need
her
to come along and mess with his concentration?

He'd been fighting memories of her, of them together, all season. He'd pretended his attraction to her had faded with time. How had it gotten so bad that he couldn't spend three minutes in her company without jealousy or desire—or both—attacking him?

They were inches apart. She sat at one end of the sofa; he sat in the middle. James's seat now seemed palpably vacant, as if his leaving had turned up tension that had been building for the past six months, and especially since yesterday afternoon.

If he leaned over, he could repeat the rash move he'd made on the plane. He could yank her against him. He could feel her soft, womanly curves pressed against him. Instead of that idea knocking him back to reality as it should have, every second that ticked past seemed encouraging.

She angled her body toward him. “You're no amateur yourself.”

He clenched his hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. “Huh?”

“Fishing for minnows.”

“Oh, yeah.” The women in the restaurant. “Some fans are more enthusiastic than others. You should be used to that by now.”

Eyeing him over the rim of her glass, she sipped her wine. “Funny, I'm not.”

Her easy mood from dinner seemed to have vanished. Her smile was tense. Her eyes glittered with…something the opposite of cheerfulness. Anger? Annoyance?

“It's weird, seeing you with other women,” she added.

She'd always been amazingly direct—one of the reasons he'd first been attracted to her so many years ago. Was she annoyed the fans had interrupted dinner? Was she simply frustrated by racing stuff? Or was it possible his jealousy wasn't so one-sided?

Still not sure of her mood, he kept his tone casual. “After all this time?”

“Yeah. Though I'll be damned if I know why.”

“Simple. You still want me.”

She shook her head. “I can't.”

So much for mutual jealousy. “Why not?”

“We work together, and the team needs us to be professional. You need to focus on driving. I have to keep everybody mindful of our goals. We have too many important races in front of us. We have a championship to win. We—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “I know.”

There was so much at stake—millions of dollars, the respect of the team, not to mention their careers. If they got involved again, and it ended badly, they could jeopardize so many people's lives.

Her gaze connected with his, her green eyes shadowed. “So why does none of that matter?” she asked, her voice smoky and low. “Why, after Sunday, can't I stop thinking about you?”

H
ER CONFESSION
still hanging in the air, Lexie watched Kane's eyes widen. He reached for her, then drew back, dropping his hand to his thigh. “I can't stop thinking about you, either.”

More than anything, she wanted to lay her head against his shoulder, for him to stroke her hair and gather her close. She actually felt tears stinging her eyes for all the regrets she had when it came to Kane Jackson. “We can't do this. Not now.”

“No, we can't.” For a second, longing lit his eyes, then he looked down. “And I'm sorry about yesterday. When we…”

“Kissed.”

“Right.
That.
I shouldn't have grabbed you.”

“That's the most hot-blooded I've seen you in months.” His gaze flew back to hers, and she smiled. “It was welcome in the professional sense.”

“But not personally.”

“We can't.”

“You said that already.”

She sighed. So much of her past was tied up in Kane. Those memories—of herself and Kane at seventeen, the realization that twelve years had passed, and she hadn't had a serious relationship since—made her much more emotional than normal.

After her mother's death when she was twelve, she and her father had moved to Mooresville from California. They'd clung to each other, learned from each other and become friends far earlier than most young women did with their fathers.

Through grief, loneliness and adolescent confusion, they'd used racing to connect and fill the void in their lives.

She'd been comforted and exhilarated by the competition, by the sheer power and speed of those 700-plus horsepower engines, by the sounds of the screaming fans, by the new family she'd built.

But by the time she was a senior in high school, as she came to better understand her parents' great love for each other, and her relationship with Kane deepened, she realized she'd always be second in his life.

She'd dreamed of dating someone who didn't care about racing, or at least wasn't intimately involved with the sport. She wanted to talk about movies and music. She wanted to leave racing stats and strategy at the shop.

And that just wasn't possible with Kane.

He was a rising star. He came to life behind the wheel. In racing, he'd finally found a passion where he couldn't be compared to his father. And no one, not even her, could compete with that.

She covered Kane's hand with hers. He clutched her fingers. Her stomach tightened.

Longing, sharp and sweet, spread through her veins. So much time had passed since she'd felt such a sensation, she might not have recognized it with another man. But with Kane, the feeling was familiar, even if it had been years since they'd shared it.

“So much of what we want is hovering just beyond us,” she said finally. “You want this championship. You
need
it.”

“You want it, too.”

“Yeah. I'd like to be the one to help you achieve your dreams. I want to see this team claim that trophy in New York in December.”

“And we can't let anything personal get in the way.”

She squeezed his hand again, then let go. Rising, she wandered to the windows and looked out at the downtown lights. “No, we can't.”

“Why not?”

She'd asked herself the same question a million times over the last few days. She still didn't have a logical answer. Every time she put one and one in her calculator she came up with eighty-four. That seemed the number of people who would be directly affected by an unprofessional attraction to her driver. The indirect number was too scary to even contemplate. “Damned if I know.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Though you were always a great kisser.”

He set his beer bottle aside and stood. As he approached her, his blue eyes dark with intent, she tried to pretend she didn't want him to kiss her again.

Wrong man. Wrong time. Wrong place.

Still, her heartbeat tripled. Her mouth went dry. Even clad simply in jeans and a dark-blue polo, he managed to look sensational. His body was strong and lean from years of running and weight training. And though it had been years since she'd seen him without his clothes, her memory was really happy to fill in the details.

She fought a moan as he lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. His pine and spice-infused scent washed over her just as his body heat warmed her. “I don't want to let this go,” he said.

“Kane, please…”

He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “Please what?”

“We shouldn't—”

“Ah, we're making progress. Earlier, it was
we can't
.”

She closed her eyes and indulged in a moment of stark hunger she had no business feeling. When had she become so perverse that she wanted the only man she couldn't have? What was wrong with a steady accountant? A charming stockbroker?

“You're so beautiful.” He brushed his lips across her temple. “I haven't been able to stop staring at you all night.”

Her pulse jumped. She wasn't beautiful. But somehow Kane made her believe it. No other man had ever made her melt so completely. By his touch. By the simple sound of his voice.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

She glanced up at the hunger in his eyes. She knew what that look meant, what it could lead to. And it was a chance she simply couldn't take. One of them had to be strong, and clearly it was going to have to be her.

She forced herself to step out of his arms, then turned and ran from the room.

 

W
EDNESDAY AFTERNOON
, wandering through the race shop, Lexie checked the computer printouts from their earlier engine test on the transponder and was pleased with the numbers. This was definitely their number-one engine for the weekend.

That decision made, she needed to get moving to the airport for the team's flight to Bristol. She tried to tell herself she was just making sure every detail about the race car was checked, but deep down she knew she was just delaying the inevitable moment when she faced Kane again.

Early this morning she'd literally woken up in a breath-heaving sweat because of a dream about her driver. Added to that was yesterday's humiliating memory in Cincinnati when she'd run from Kane like a startled rabbit. Further breakdowns had to be mere moments away.

And she had a car and a team to get ready for one of the biggest races of the year—Saturday night in Bristol.

The half-mile track with thirty-six degrees of banking in the turns was the wildest, rowdiest race on the circuit. Tickets were nearly impossible to get for the fans—who numbered more than 160,000. TV commentators hyped rivalries. The drivers' tempers flared quickly and often. And the cars wound up bumping and banging their way to the finish.

Even with the pressure and craziness of her job, Lexie still looked forward to every race. She never lost her appreciation for the excitement or the drama. Something she and Kane shared. Something that bonded them.

She recalled the first NASCAR race Kane had ever seen. In high school, she and James had taken him to the track in Concord. Their seats were just at the exit of the pits, and she'd known the moment those engines roared that football's loss would be the stock car world's gain. Kane's eyes had lit like a Christmas tree as he watched those brightly colored cars with their intense, powerful engines roar through that first turn.

With pit passes her dad had given her, she'd taken Kane and James through the garage area. They met rookies and champions. They were embraced by the crews. No one asked about Kane's dad or James's college football recruiting status. No one knew who they were, and they loved it.

Through the rest of their high school years, the two of them bugged her for NASCAR tickets. Their love of the sport grew. They even built their first car together, which Kane raced, in secret, at the speedway in Myrtle Beach. After Kane quit football and James left Mooresville to claim his scholarship at Florida, they continued to build their racing team. Which, to some extent, had now become a reality.

How ironic that the sport she'd introduced Kane to had been their relationship's downfall. She couldn't deal with his fiery devotion to racing, his obsession to win, to prove himself to his father above all costs. Including her.

She got an engineering scholarship to Duke, which she accepted. She broke up with Kane and left Mooresville, promising herself that the next time she fell in love she'd find somebody who was stable and even-tempered. Somebody who didn't care if she knew a carburetor from a brake pad.

Somebody who wanted her above everything else.

Through her disappointment, anger and pain, she'd found strength within herself, and she'd sworn she'd never be second best again. The irony that she wanted him to be aggressive and obsessed about racing these days, when she'd so resented it during their dating years, wasn't lost on her.

“Have you seen Kane?”

Startled, Lexie glanced up at Kane's father.
Actually, I have, sir. See, I had this dream that we loved each other more than racing, and—

“Lexie?”

She blinked away the remnants of the dream and tried to focus. “Oh, uh, he's probably at the airport.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Try his cell.”

“I already did. It's turned off.”

With just about anybody else, Lexie would have offered a ride to the airport or at least further concern. But she and Anton Jackson had never gotten along. Kane's father had always resented her for introducing Kane to racing.

Which was fine by her. She resented him, as well—for years—because he thought she wasn't good enough for his son, but lately it was because of his lack of support for Kane's love of racing, as well as the change he'd brought about in Kane's personality.

At some point over the years, Kane's obsession with winning had been dampened by his need to get his father's approval. The fire of competitiveness she'd resented before—and desperately needed now—was diminished. Thanks to the man before her.

“Oh, well.” She made an effort to smile at the man most American sports fans worshiped. “He'll be back late Saturday, early Sunday.”

Frustration suffused Anton's sculpted features. “Is he really going to get into the top ten?”

“Yes.”

“You're sure?”

“As sure as I can be.”

“Everybody was confident before Sunday, too.”

Growing more annoyed by the minute and wondering whether Anton was really concerned about Kane or just the questions he was bound to get in the booth during his NFL broadcasts, Lexie narrowed her eyes. “Mistakes happen.”

“By you or Kane?”

“By the rookie who misjudged his passing distance.”

“But if the car had been stronger, he wouldn't have been passed.”

It was no wonder the man was one of her least favorite people. Hoping to simply escape before she said something she'd regret, she pushed for a wider smile. “You got me there.”

“I want my son in The Chase.”

As if his declaration would make it so. “Okay.”

He turned away without further comment, though on his way out, he stopped to talk to the guys in the shop. He might be a jerk to her, but he did always make time for his fans. And she could be grateful that though Kane had inherited his intensity, competitiveness and charm from his father, he'd been spared the bulk of his arrogance. In fact, Kane's humility and down-to-earth nature was one of the primary reasons for his popularity with both fans and sponsors.

She, however, was completely immune to him.

Rolling her eyes at her delusion, she retreated to her office, where she gathered her laptop, printouts, cell phone and the bags she'd brought in that morning from her apartment. Bristol would be an important test for everyone. They had to finish well, and if she'd screwed up somehow…

She locked her office and vowed not to dwell on the what-ifs. She, her dad and the other team engineers had all consulted on the car's setup, as well as the strategy for the race. The team had run endless drills, hoping to shave even half a second off their time servicing the car. Kane had spent hours working out with his trainer and running computer simulation programs of the track. They were as well prepared as they possibly could be.

Still, it didn't seem like enough.

The thought of the upcoming racing weekend, plus spending it with Kane made her stomach a bundle of nerves. But she smiled as she crossed the shop, waving to the guys who were already working on cars for the weeks after Bristol. She received several “good luck” shouts, plus a few good-natured jibes. At the door she wasn't surprised to see Kane's father still hanging around.

“Going to the airport?”

She nodded.