Crossing the Line (Hard Driving) (9 page)

He nodded, trying to refocus his thoughts and give his body some time to cool down. “I’ve been keeping quiet and laying low and smiling for the press because my dad insists on it. Usually I’d fight him on it, try to make a point, but he had a rough time, health-wise last year . . .” He trailed off and looked at her in question, wondering if she remembered the reports about Bobby Riggs’s battle with cancer.

The media had made it out to be a lot more dramatic than it really had been—big surprise there—but it had still been difficult.

Cori nodded. “I remember.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been trying to go easy on him. I’ve told him how I feel, that we shouldn’t be hiding from this. But he’s
tired
and afraid and”—he shook his head—“He’s my father. He’s supported me through everything. Brought me into the sport I love and gave me all the guidance I needed. I can’t let him down now, but I hate not being able to confront all the people who believe the worst of me. They’re
cowards
and I wouldn’t hesitate to tell every last one of those guys out there, looking for cheap thrills in my life—my fucking
life
is apparently a source of entertainment—that they can go to hell.”

This time, he did pound the table, and that weird expression crossed her face again. It was there and gone in a heartbeat, but he was so attuned to her right now that he saw it.

Aw, man.
He must have spooked her with that outburst. He blew out a breath. “Hey. I’m sorry. I’m not—I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not usually the kind of guy who punches tables or throws things or whatever. It’s been a rough week, is all. I hate coming across as a coward, too, by hiding out like this. I
feel
like a coward, even. But it’s more than that. My dad . . .”

He trailed off.

Oh, shit.

He’d been about to tell Cori about the
actual
cheating by Dad’s former crew chief.

And it didn’t help that he had her full attention now. “What?” she prompted.

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but fiddled with the napkin in his lap. He had to think of something, quick. This might be off the record, but he didn’t want to even hint at something that might send her down the wrong path.

Would she really do that to him, though?
Could
he trust her the way he wanted to?

He wasn’t sure yet. So instead, he hedged a bit, trying to draw her away from the subject of Bobby Riggs. “I was just going to say that I love being a part of a racing legacy, but I also race, because . . . well, because I love racing. At the moment, though, I’m ready to take what I’ve accomplished in racing and amp it up a bit. I’d been working on something new. Something different. Not on the track, though. It’s not like there’s a whole lot of room there to do things differently.
Different
on the track can get you killed. But I was talking to the franchise director—you probably heard of Mike Belgrave—about rolling out a program to introduce minority kids to the sport. Kids like me, who aren’t white, who live with disabilities . . . pretty much any young person who doesn’t usually fit the racing mold. Because it’s pretty damn awesome. Racing teaches you focus and discipline, good sportsmanship, and practical skills like mechanical engineering and community building. There’s so much more to it than just driving fast.”

“Wow.” She was looking at him with wide eyes, mouth half open.

He ducked his head and gave her a wry smile. “I agree. ‘Wow’ for all of the kids who could have benefitted from this.”

“Could have?”

He flattened his palm against the table. He would not bang out his frustration again. “Yeah, could have.
Because drivers who fight in the pit aren’t good role models. Worse than that, drivers who then come under fire for potentially cheating really, really aren’t the kind of sportsmen to be leading a program about hard work and integrity.” He let out a rough breath. “It doesn’t look like that’s gonna happen anytime soon. If ever. And it pisses me off that they’re just throwing the program away because of this.”

Her face softened. “Ty. God. I’m sorry. Can’t you—I don’t know. Isn’t there any way to get around it?”

He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. If it were just about the fistfight I had with Gilroy, I probably could have argued with Mike about it after the hubbub died down. But now . . . I can’t try to push this right now. And it’s killing me, not being able to argue for it.”

“Why not? Why can’t you make your case to Mike and get all the back end stuff set up? Even if there’s an investigation, if you’re confident nothing will turn up, you can—”

“I can’t.” He put a hand out, cutting her off, and her eyes went suddenly very wide.

Oh, shit.
He couldn’t believe he just said that. He immediately opened his mouth again, to try to backpedal somehow, but she spoke before he could.

“You can’t because you’re not confident nothing will turn up.”

It came out on a whisper, those wide gray-green eyes pulling him into their depths, making him want to tell her everything, to tell her—

He jerked his gaze away. “I can’t answer that.”

There was a long silence.

God.
What had he done?

But finally, she cleared her throat. “I . . . understand. And I won’t tell anyone. I won’t write about it.”

He looked back at her.

“I
promise
,” she added. She looked at him with so much understanding, it nearly destroyed his resolve not to say anything more. “But you still think—or your dad, I guess, thinks—that ignoring the gossip is the right thing to do. But it’s not, and you’re the one getting hurt.” She said it slowly, as though she was still processing the thought herself.

He couldn’t resist smiling at her. She’d remembered what he’d said to her on Media Day, how pretending that you’re doing the wrong thing for the right reasons only hurts you and the ones you love. “Yeah. Something like that. It’s not just about me, though. I think it’s hurting the entire team. But there are other reasons . . . in the end, fighting it will hurt people just as much. Wrong thing, right reasons, I guess.”

She chuckled softly at that, and he smiled.

She leaned forward. “Believe it or not, I do understand.” She looked sad, like she had on Media Day when she’d told him how she’d ditched the path her parents laid out for her to pursue journalism.

That must be what she was talking about. He wanted to know more about that. And he was ready to take the focus off himself for a bit. “What happened when you left the path your parents wanted for you? Were they angry for long?”

A shadow crossed her face. “They’re still angry.” But then she shook her head. “No. Actually, that’s not right. More like, they act like it’s not a big deal anymore, but they’re disappointed and they still haven’t gotten over it. Particularly because I haven’t done as well for myself as they think I should have by now.”

That was a surprise to hear. “What do you mean? You’re covering racing and getting a lot of interest in your article, right? Maybe I’m biased, but I think that’s doing pretty well.”

She looked down at the table again. “I guess. Maybe I’m just worried because I’m not sure how much it will take for them to finally believe that I made the right choice for myself.” A long sigh escaped her. “Maybe I’m not so sure anymore that I made the right choice.”

He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Hey. Hey, no. I read your article. It was amazing. You’re in the right field, on the right path, whatever you want to call it.”

She laced her fingers through his, then looked up again and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Ty. It helps to be able to talk to someone who gets it.”

He grinned. “Yeah. It does.”

They sat there for a second, just smiling, until she pulled her hand away and picked up her wine glass. “Here’s to making our wrong choices right.”

He picked his up, too, and touched it to hers, meeting her eyes at the soft clinking sound. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

Cori handed the last dish to Ty and shut off the water. He finished drying the plate and slid it into the cupboard, then hung up the towel.

“Thanks for helping.” She leaned back against the counter, taking him in. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing heavily corded forearms lightly dusted with curling black hairs.

She wanted to put her mouth there and
bite
.

But she was trying to keep her distance. It was looking more and more like there was something to the cheating rumors and exposé Alex wanted her to write, even if she was still working hard not to have to do it. She’d made a deal with Alex that she felt was the right one, and she was doing her best to win. But she’d
promised
Ty she would keep his secrets.

“It was the least I could do. Dinner was delicious.” He took a step closer. “And I had a great time talking with you. Thank you for listening.”

He stepped even closer, and her breath caught, making her voice come out in a squeak. “Thank
you
for sharing.”

He put one hand on the counter next to her and leaned in a bit.

Good God, she was going to pass out soon if she didn’t take a breath.

Take a breath, Cori. Take a breath take a breath—

She sucked in a huge lungful of air, making a terrible, horrible, insanely humiliating wheezing sound.

Way to rock that whole breathing thing.

“You all right?” He was still leaning over her, but he was smirking, as though he knew the effect he was having on her. Of course he knew. She’d practically attacked him and sucked his face off within seconds of him walking into her home.

At least she’d calmed down long enough to actually talk to him.

And she’d loved it. She loved every minute of it. Even when they’d been a bit awkward and stilted at first, talking about the weather. It had just felt so good, so right, to have Ty in her home.

In her life.

She nodded. “I’m fine. Just—God, I’m so embarrassed.”

He laughed and closed the distance between them, gathering her in his arms like it was no big deal and they’d been doing this for years. She sighed and relaxed against his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart.

It pleased her that she had an effect on him, too. Seeing him tonight had been the right decision. It was going to be okay. She’d focus on writing articles that got a ton of hits and she wouldn’t have to write anything she didn’t want to. Ty would be none the wiser, and once she gained the upper hand in her deal with Alex, she could take her relationship with Ty to the next level.

It
would
work out. After all, how could something that felt so right be wrong?

“You were lovely. You
are
lovely.” He reached a hand up and cupped the back of her neck, gently rubbing.

Mmm that feels so good.

“You have no idea how good it feels to find someone I can talk to about things. Someone I can trust.”

She froze.

Please don’t say that.

During dinner, they’d talked in more depth about the program he’d been working on, and then he’d asked about her. What her dreams were. And she’d told him about how she desperately wanted to make a name for herself as a reporter. He’d said she was off to a great start with that article she’d written earlier in the week, since he’d seen it reposted on several major sports sites. She’d wanted to crawl under the table.

Because what if she was eventually forced to break her promise?

She’d let all those thoughts distract her for too long, because Ty tensed up, pulling back a bit. “Am I putting too much pressure on you?”

No! Oh, goodness, no.
He thought she wasn’t into him, when in reality she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything—even this reporting gig.

She took a deep breath. “No. Not at all. I had such a great time tonight. I mean it. Thank you for coming up here.”

He smiled, soft and sweet. “It was my pleasure.”

They stood there for a second, just staring at each other, until he muttered something that sounded like,
Aw, fuck it
, and the next thing she knew—

He was kissing her again.

She welcomed it. Reveled in it. And this time, it was . . .
oh
. . . even better than the first. She sighed into his mouth as his lips nibbled over hers, softly, a whisper of a touch, and before she could make it into something more, he pulled away.

“I actually have to go pretty soon. Wendell—my pilot—is expecting me back before they ground all aircraft for the night.”

The disappointment cut deep, but it was exactly what had to happen. He couldn’t stay and strip her naked and give her even more of himself. She wanted him so much, though. She’d already known he was sexy as all hell, but now she knew how attractive he was on the inside, too.

He smiled, bright and happy. “But I’d like to get together again. Soon. The thing is, I’m away for a few days next week for another race, and then—”

“I’ll be at that one, too.” She interrupted him, too excited at the prospect of seeing him again. “After my article . . . well, it went well enough that
Gold Cup
is letting me cover the next weekend of races in person. Hopefully I can keep it up for a couple of months.”

My career and your trust are both depending on it, in fact.

He grinned, his happiness obvious. “I
told
you it was an incredible piece. So can I meet up with you in California, after quals next Saturday? I mean, maybe not at the track, but somewhere we can hang out without getting mobbed by the cameras. Since we have to keep things on the down low.”

Oh, yeah.
Thank God
he’d
remembered. She nodded. “Yes. I’d love to.”

“I’ll call you in the meantime,” he promised, then dropped one more kiss on her lips before heading out the door.

* * *

“First position, Ty! Yeah, man! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Cody Niederman, one of the younger Riggs Racing drivers, slapped Ty on the back when the results from the qualifying round at Auto Club came up. Ty tried not to look too proud over it.
Not too bad for a Saturday
morning.
He knew that both of his laps had been fast as all get-out, and he wasn’t surprised that he’d earned first pole position.

He knew Cori was out there in the press box, watching him, and he’d wanted to impress her. He’d been thinking about her nonstop since their date at her house a week ago, and he was practically vibrating with the excitement of seeing her this afternoon.

She was certainly good inspiration to work hard. To be better. If he couldn’t stop the investigation or come to Dad’s defense the way he wanted to, he could at least bring all his fight to the track. It had made the race more fun, in a way.

And for the first time in what felt like years, even though it had only been a couple of weeks, he wasn’t thinking about how everyone was probably questioning his small victory. He wasn’t thinking about what might happen if Dad’s past actions were found out.

He was enjoying the moment and thinking about the girl he’d kissed a week ago.

Dad came over to where Ty was standing in the pit and gave him a rough hug before barking over his shoulder, “Niederman! Quit wasting time and get ready for your race!”

Ty laughed. Twenty-two-year-old Cody was a rookie in the Nationwide series—just one level below the big time. The Diamond series drivers raced on Saturdays, after the Intercomm drivers—the top tier—had qualifying rounds. Ty usually stayed to watch those in support of his teammates, then raced in the Intercomm series on Sunday.

But today, he had somewhere more important to be.

Speaking of . . . he had to get back to the hotel and shower. He didn’t want to meet Cori when he was all grimy and gross. Not when he wanted to kiss her again.

He finally slipped away amidst the bustle in the pit, the crew preparing for the upcoming race, and made a dash for his rental. He felt like he was driving back to the hotel even faster than he had in the quals.

When was the last time he’d been this keyed up over a woman?

Never.

He made it to the hotel in record time, parked the car, then ran inside, still in full racing gear, only to be swarmed by fans who had apparently been waiting for just this chance.

“Ty! Oh my God it’s Ty Riggs!” Two teenaged girls ran over to him, practically deafening him with their squeals.
Damn.
He wished he’d brought Frank with him to field this mess, but he couldn’t let Frank know where he was going. Frank was even more paranoid than Dad, and would no doubt insist on clearing Cori through a security check first and then setting their date up like a sterile interview instead of casual coffee.

The girls jumped up and down, brandishing glossy photos of him—where the hell did they get these things, anyway?—to sign, and when he looked up, he saw a line forming behind them.

Damn again. He was going to be late to meet Cori.

But he looked out over the group of people gathered patiently behind the excited girls, who—despite their initial squeal attack—politely asked to take a photo with him, and he knew he couldn’t just walk away. There were kids here of all ages, of all ethnicities. Girls and boys. Hopeful mothers, smiling fathers . . .

They were here for him. And having those fans reminded him that people in the world still believed he was a role model. They looked up to him and thought of him as someone worth emulating. Once upon a time, that meant something. It
still
meant something. Just because he couldn’t take that to the next level right now didn’t mean that he could abandon the world he’d already built.

Unfortunately, Cori would have to wait.

He made sure his trademark smile was tightly in place and just hoped that she would be proud.