On the Move (14 page)

“It’s personal,” he admitted, looking around them so that the man understood he didn’t want to be overheard. “Something I think you should know about me.”

His boss just nodded his head and said, “Then let’s go chat right now.”

Suddenly Brandon knew he’d made the right choice. Vicky might be right. It was time to start trusting again. God knows, it wouldn’t be easy. He had enough baggage to fill an airport, but he had to at least try. If not, he didn’t stand a chance at this whole NASCAR thing. Or having a normal life. But most of all, he didn’t stand a chance with Vicky.

Dunkin’ Drivers,
folks. That’s what Knight Enterprises called it. A competition held at today’s Employee Appreciation Day wherein said employees got a shot at dunking their favorite driver—or their
least
favorite driver as the case may be. Rumor has it the line to dunk Brandon Burke was about a mile long. Rumor also has it that Todd Peters was first to do the honors.

What a concept.

Wouldn’t it be nice if, after each NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race, it was
required
that drivers who were, shall we say, less than nice were marched directly to the dunk tank? Okay, maybe not a dunk tank. Maybe one of those beanbag things. The kind where a person puts their head through a hole and people take aim. Now that’d be a way to settle differences. A few well-aimed shots and then—
bam
—that “nudge” is all forgiven.

But what surprised me most about that whole thing was that Mr. Burke returned for a second round. And so maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for good ole Brandon Burke.

Maybe.

Just the thought of Brandon standing half-naked with water dripping down his chest had her shivering.

She’d have fantasies about that for weeks. Some really, really hot fantasies because that was all she’d allow herself where Brandon was concerned. No way would she be swayed by the wicked glint in his eyes. Reading lessons weren’t the only lessons he wanted to work with her on.

Why? she thought, jerking off her clothes so she could get into some comfy jeans. Why was he giving her those suggestive leers? Did he think it would help his cause if he pretended to be interested in her? Little did he know. She was wise to that trick. During her sophomore year, one of the university’s star athletes had done the same thing. Unfortunately, she’d realized too late he was just using her to pass contract law, and she had felt like a major fool when she’d tried to kiss him late one night.

Never again would she let a man make a fool out of her.

She tugged on a T-shirt. Tomorrow her stuff would arrive, one of her roommates in New York having graciously agreed to pack up her stuff. The furniture SSI had rented on her behalf would be at her new place, too, and so all in all it was shaping up to be a busy week….

The hotel phone rang.

It was Brandon. She was certain of it. Calling to make sure she’d be at his house for his “lessons.”

Not going to happen.

But when her cell phone rang again and then, two minutes later, the hotel extension, she decided drastic measures were in order. She took the hotel phone off the hook and shut off her cell phone.

Now she could prep for tomorrow’s media training. Lord knows, that promised to be a lot of fun.

An hour into her review of the documents Mrs. Parsons had given both her and Brandon, she was startled by yet another sound—this time a knock on her door.

Uh-oh.

A glance at the clock revealed it was close to six. Surely that couldn’t be Brandon. He wouldn’t be so bold as to hunt her down, would he?

She took a glance out the room’s peephole and she realized he would.

“Go away,” she called through the door.

“Vicky,” he called back. “I need to talk to you.”

“No,” she said, raising her voice so it could be heard through the door. “I’m…not dressed.”

Why the heck had she gone and said that?

“I mean, I just got out of the shower.”

What the heck was wrong with her? The door must be getting warm from the heat radiating off her face.

“I’m…I’m…in a robe.”

Well. That was at least a little better.

But to her surprise, he didn’t say anything sarcastic in return. All he said was, “Please. I really need to talk to you now.”

“Tomorrow would be better.” In a public place. Not now. Not in, good lord, her hotel room where there was a bed not five feet away.

“But I need your help tonight,” he said.

What was
with
the man? Couldn’t he take no for an answer? She didn’t want to be alone with him. Especially when the memory of his half-naked body was still firmly implanted in her mind.

“If it’s about your learning to read, go ask your computer for help. Or better yet, hire someone.”

“Vicky,” a deep voice said, a voice that did not belong to Brandon.

She jammed her eyes against the peephole.

Damn.

She jumped back from the door. That was Mr. Knight standing out there in a pristine dark gray business suit, his formidable green eyes trained on the door.

“We need to talk to you,” he said.

It took three deep breaths and some fanning of her hand against her overheated face before she opened the door, and when she did, Brandon peered back at her, arms crossed, a supremely smug smile on his face.

“Mr. Knight,” she said breathlessly, covering her chest with her hand. “My goodness. I didn’t know you were here, too.” On the heels of that thought came the realization that he’d overheard every word she’d said, including her comment about Brandon learning to read.

Oh, crap!

“I see you’ve gotten dressed,” Brandon said, and the way he drawled the words, she knew he was onto her.

She blushed all over again, noting that in an off-white polo shirt and tan slacks, it was much easier to stare at him than when he was bare chested.

“I just now pulled on some clothes,” she lied. “While we were were, uh, talking. They were on my bed,” she added quickly.

She thought she heard Brandon choke back a laugh. Mr. Knight just stared back at her, one brow lifted.

“Come on in,” she said, pulling the door wide, and wishing she’d never taken off her business suit. Somehow she felt better prepped for battle when wearing office attire.

“Your hair’s not wet,” Brandon quickly whispered as he walked by.

“Shower cap,” she hissed back.

“Vicky,” Mr. Knight said, the man oblivious to their conversation. “We tried calling earlier.”

She glanced over at the phone on the end table next to her bed. It was off the hook. “I, uh, didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“While you showered?” Brandon asked.

“Whatever the case, I’m glad we caught up with you,” Mr. Knight said.

“Um…yeah. What can I do for you?” she asked Mr. Knight, her palms suddenly sweaty because he had overheard her conversation with Brandon. What would he do? Confront them both about Brandon not knowing how to read? Although, she realized with a quick look at Brandon, he didn’t look the least bit worried.

Odd.

“Actually,” Mr. Knight said. “I have a favor to ask.”

Vicky glanced at Brandon again, trying to discern if
he
knew what the heck was going on. But Brandon just returned her stare, an odd little half smile on his face.

“Brandon and I talked after you left,” Mr. Knight said.

“Oh, yes?”

“He told me about his problem.”

“What problem?” Vicky asked. “As you’ve no doubt noticed, he has many.”

“Yes,” Mr. Knight said with a small smirk. “I’m aware of that. But this is a problem that you mentioned earlier. A problem that has to do with reading.”

“Oh. But I was just teasing about that, Mr. Knight. Brandon here isn’t exactly the fastest reader in the world, but he manages to review everything you’ve sent him.”

“Vicky,” Brandon said. “There’s no need to cover for me. Mr. Knight knows.”

She looked into Brandon’s boss’s eyes. “Frankly,” he said, “at first I was a bit taken aback that this wasn’t revealed to me from the outset.”

“And then I explained to him that nobody knew about it until that night you figured it all out,” Brandon quickly added.

“Which made me feel marginally better, although it would have been nice if you’d informed me of the situation the moment you became aware of it.”

Vicky gleaned in that instant how Mr. Knight had managed to maintain his success throughout the years. He had a way of looking at you. One of those all-encompassing sweeps of the eyes that made you feel as if you’d somehow let him down.

“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Knight. Frankly, I didn’t know what to do about it myself.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, we now have an opportunity to remedy the situation.”

Vicky knew she wouldn’t like what was coming next.

“Brandon here tells me he’s asked for your help. He also told me you’re rather reluctant.” Mr. Knight gave her a tight smile. “Given what I just overheard, I would have to agree with that assessment.”

“I just don’t feel I’m qualified,” she lied, because she just couldn’t imagine having to work closely with him. Every time she was near the man, she lost about half her brain cells. Even now she found herself wondering what the heck kind of cologne he wore. He smelled like leather again. But also like the inside of a cedar chest. However those two scents managed to combine, it did something to her insides.

“For the moment, I don’t feel we have any choice,” Mr. Knight said. “I’d rather keep his little problem under wraps. If we go outside our immediate circle, there’s the chance that Brandon’s situation might be leaked to the press. I’d rather that not happen. At least for now. However, that said, Brandon has agreed that when the time is right we’ll make an announcement about his disability. Frankly, he’s in a position to help others with the same problem. KEM will support his efforts to help enlighten the public about adult illiteracy. But for now, he needs your help in overcoming it.”

“Of course I’ll do my part,” she heard herself say.

“That’s the ticket,” Mr. Knight said, a smile coming to his face. “I knew we could count on you. Brandon, did you bring your study material?”

“It’s out in the car.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Knight said. “You can begin your lessons tonight.”

“Oh, but—”

“
Tonight,
Ms. VanCleef. He needs your help with tomorrow’s press training.”

“Yes, sir.” Man, the guy was good. No wonder he’d built his empire into one of the most profitable in the world. The guy intimidated the crap out of her.

“Good. I’ll just leave you two to it, but I’ll expect a full report at tomorrow’s media training.”

“Will you be there?” Vicky asked.

“I’ll be dropping by, but Mrs. Parsons will handle the bulk of it.”

“I see,” Vicky said. When she peeked at Brandon, she realized, he would be alone with her. In her hotel room. Just the two of them.

The grin he shot her made her want to run to the door.

But she couldn’t.

He’d made sure of that. It’d been a stroke of genius on his part to confide in Mathew Knight about his learning-disability situation. Sure, he’d been leery of coming clean. Actually, he’d been terrified. But when Brandon had broken the news about his handicap, his boss had reacted with such an outpouring of understanding and compassion that Brandon was immediately suspicious. About two-point-nine seconds after he’d had that thought, he’d realized that was he was being foolish.

Vicky had been right. He had trust issues, and he would start dealing with them right now.

He adjusted the duffel bag slung over one shoulder. Inside were the workbooks that Vicky had caught sight of what seemed like an eternity ago, but was really less than two weeks ago. Damn. It was strange how he felt as if he’d known Vicky his entire life. Hard to believe she’d only been a part of it for such a short time.

When he pushed the up button for the elevator, he realized his hands shook. Nerves, he admitted, but anxiety over what? Being alone with Vicky? Or the supposed lessons she was about to give him?

To be honest, he didn’t know which.

“Damn, Burke,” he muttered inside an empty elevator. “You’re acting as nervous as a rookie at his first race.”

That wasn’t like him. That wasn’t like him at all.

His mouth had gone dry by the time he knocked on her door. The bag felt as heavy as an engine block hanging off his shoulder. His heart beat as hard as it did when rounding Turn Four, just before he zoomed beneath the checkered flag—although that hadn’t happened in a long, long time.

“What took you so long?” Vicky asked.

She didn’t look pleased. In fact, she looked distinctly hostile as she stepped back from the door, the thick framed glasses she favored firmly in place. Her room was small, but not overly cramped. Typical hotel room. Bathroom to his right. Bed on the same side. Windows straight ahead. She had the drapes pulled back, the Charlotte skyline drenched in sunshine.

Still, he felt the presence of the beige painted walls as if they were about to close in on him.

“Afraid I wasn’t going to come back?” he teased.

“No. More like hoping you
wouldn’t
come back.” She’d crossed to a small, faux cherry table nudged into a corner, and jerked back the matching armchair so quickly she almost tipped it over. “Take a seat,” she said, motioning to a second chair across from the first.

“Vicky,” he said. “I know you’re upset about having to do this for me.”

“Upset?” she asked, taking a seat. “Who’s upset?”

“You are,” he said, walking toward her.

Her gaze darted away. That always happened whenever he got too close to her and he knew the reason why, too. He could have sensed her discomfort from a mile away. She was attracted to him, and if she’d been like any of the women he’d been involved with before, he would have jumped her.

Oddly enough, he held back.

“Look,” he said softly, taking a seat opposite her. That seemed to help her relax, a little bit. “I know it wasn’t particularly nice of me to involve Mr. Knight.”

She snorted. “What’d you tell him? ‘Order Vicky to be my tutor and I’ll win you a race’?”

“No. I just told him the truth,” he said, setting his bag of books down on the floor. “I told him I need you.”

She met his gaze, quickly, nervously, as if she didn’t quite believe that his words could be true.

“I do,” he said. “I know you have a hard time believing that, but I can’t do this without you.” He leaned across the table and reached for her hands. He saw her try to draw away, but he was too quick. In a flash he had her fingers entwined with his own.

Suddenly everything changed.

He froze for a second, his gaze catching his masculine fingers resting against her feminine ones.

He let her go.

“I brought all the books we’ll need.” This time it was Brandon who looked away. “We can start at the beginning. To be honest, I haven’t absorbed as much as I should.”

“Brandon,” she said softly.

He looked up at her. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“No?” he asked back, dumbly.

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

She nodded.

He did. He could feel the sexual tension crackling between them, too.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t tempt me.”

But that was just it. He couldn’t seem to make himself leave. He didn’t know what this was between them, yet he had a feeling it was something far more than physical attraction. He wanted to explore it. He felt
compelled
to investigate her feelings, too.

“It’s not me who’s doing the tempting,” he admitted. “It’s you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

“It
is
true.” It took every ounce of his willpower to keep sitting there when all he wanted to do was kiss her. That was all. Just kiss her.

“Said like a man who’s used to saying whatever he needs to get his way.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I learned that from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Or was that someone else who all but blackmailed me into behaving when we first met?”

“Desperate times,” she said. “Back then I would have done whatever it took to get you to conform.”

“And now?” he asked.

“Now I just want to get this over with,” she said.

“Vicky.” He said her name softly, as if he quietly pleaded with her to meet his gaze. But she couldn’t do that, because if she did, he would see the truth. That she didn’t really despise him. That what she felt for him was more like admiration. She liked that he strove to improve himself, not because he needed to, but because he
wanted
to.

She heard him shift. Her heart began to beat like a sprinter at a marathon.

“Help me,” he said gently, kneeling down next to her. “Help me to better myself.”

Oh, lord. How did he know exactly what to say to her?

“I’m afraid.”

Crap, Vicky. Now, why the heck did you go and say that?

“Of what?” he asked gently.

The time for half-truths was over.
That
was why she’d admitted her fear. “Of getting hurt.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“After we sleep together you might.”

She saw his eyes widen. His body went still. His gaze took on an intensity she’d never seen before.

“That’s one thing I admire about you, Vicky. You’re never afraid to take the bull by the horns.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“That we’re going to sleep together? Yes.”

She warmed. No, that wasn’t true. She
combusted.
Hearing him say that…
whew.
It turned her inside out.

It turned her
on.

“But not right now,” he said softly. “Later.”

“No,” she said. “Not later. Now.”

She heard a breath gush out of him, knew he wanted her, too. Lord knows why. She didn’t particularly want to explore that right now. All she wanted to do was kiss him—and touch him.

“Vicky,” he said again. “If we do this, things will change.”

“I know,” she said. “But maybe if we do this, I’ll get you out of my system.”

He drew back. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“It’s true,” she said. Now that how she felt was all out in the open, she could meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to mistake the matter, Brandon. All I want from you is sex. Nothing more. You’re an itch that needs to be scratched. Hopefully once I’ve done that, I’ll be over it.”

He stood.

Vicky followed him up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “How the hell am I supposed to look at you? You think I’m flattered that all you want from me is some sort of physical satisfaction? Vicky, you’re as bad as everyone else.”

She’d blown it. She could see that now. Damn it. But what else was she supposed to say? That she liked him? That she—yeah, right—
loved
him? That wasn’t what this was. Frankly, she’d have thought he’d be pleased by her honesty. “Most men would love to meet a woman who only wants to be bedded.”

“I’m not most men.”

“No?”

She saw him narrow his eyes. He came toward her. Vicky’s breath caught in her throat. There was such a look of lust in his eyes, and such a look of outraged dignity, that she knew he’d taken everything the wrong way and that now he was determined to prove he could tame her, make her want him.

He jerked her to him. Her held breath gushed out.

Oh, yeah. He was mad. She could tell the minute he kissed her. Mad and turned on. She was turned on, too. He knew how to kiss and he kissed her hard. She felt something hot against her lips, realized it was his tongue, then she opened her mouth to meet his assault.

Yes, she thought. Yes, yes, yes. This was what she wanted. To be with him—no matter what the consequences.

“You want sex,” he said. “Fine. I’ll give you sex.”

Something about the look in his eyes, something about the way his jaw clenched and unclenched had her slowing down. She lifted a hand to her face, slowly, deliberately removing her glasses, and then she gently placed them on the table. After that she began to pull her shirt over her head. She was just woman enough to want to make him sweat a bit, so she took her time as she pulled the fabric free.

His eyes narrowed even further.

“I want you to touch me,” she said softly. “I want you to do things to me that I’ve only ever dreamed about. I want to remember this night for the rest of my life.”

Was that her sounding like a sex kitten?

She didn’t care. Her striptease was working. His hands clenched and unclenched now.

She wanted him to know that she wasn’t seducing him because of who he was. She wasn’t in this for the glory of bedding an athlete. She was doing this because she wanted him.
Him.
Not Brandon Burke, the race-car driver, but Brandon Burke the man.

And why is that important to you?

“Vicky,” she heard him groan.

Suddenly he was there, up against her, and she knew, she just knew that her striptease was over.

He spun her around, then kissed her hard.

Oh, yeah.

This would, indeed, be a night to remember.