Fuel To The Fire (New Adult Contemporary Romance) (3 page)

“So what
do you say?” Marco asks.

“What?”
I just about jump out of my skin.

“Carrie,”
Rachael begins, “He just asked us to be on his medical team. You haven’t heard
a word we’ve been saying have you?”

“Sorry...just
a little distracted this morning, that’s all.”

“I
understand,” Marco replies, “Being a part of rescue personnel during...during
events like the one that took my father has to have some sort of impact, yes?”

“You get
used to it,” I reply lamely.

“I think
you two are some of the best out there, Carrie, and that’s why I’d like you and
Rachael here to be on my team. If you need to think it over that’s okay.”

“We’ll
do it!” Rachael announces for both of us.

“Carrie?”
Marco asks.

“Of
course we will.”

I can’t
afford to sit on the sidelines very long if I’m going to remain a trauma nurse
for a NASCAR team. It was hard enough getting back on one after taking so much
time off after Danny died. Had it not been for Rachael I’d probably be working
graveyard in some hospital or nursing home.

“Good to
hear!” Marco announces. Now if you ladies will excuse me I have a few calls to
make before the nurses come back around and force me to rest.”

He
smiles, then gives me a wink before picking up his phone to make a call.
Well...at least I’m still employed.

“Auto racing is boring except when a car is going at least a
172 miles per hour upside down.” — Dave Barry

Marco

Marco
Panata’s hospital room, present day...

“Mr.
Panata, you have visitors,” says a voice through the door.

“Send
‘em in, sweetie.”

The door
opens, and in walk two very important men. There’s my crew chief Alonzo and
Enzo Palazzo of Red Bull Italy, one of my primary sponsors. This does not bode
well. I plaster a smile on my face and greet them like old friends.

“Mr.
Palazzo, Alanzo, come right in.”

“Please,
call me Enzo. It’s good to see you doing so well, all things considered.”

“Well,
what can you do?”

“Marco,
we need to talk,” says Enzo, dropping his smile and the pleasantries that go
along with it.

“I
haven’t even buried my father yet and I’m getting the win-or-else speech?” I
ask, losing my smile.

“You had
to know this was coming,” my crew chief replies. “Red Bull foots a fifteen
million dollar bill every year they’re your primary sponsor and up until now
that’s been fine because your father’s winnings earn enough for both of you.
Without his income we can’t keep big name sponsors like Red Bull. I’m sure you
understand.”

“So that’s
it? You’re pulling your sponsorship, Enzo?”

“Settle
down Marco...I didn’t say right away. We’re two thirds into the season. We’ll
continue to be your primary for the remainder of the season but with your
father—may he rest in peace—with him gone, you’re going to need to finish in
the top ten in points or win at Daytona if we’re going to be sponsoring you
next race season.”

“I
see...” I turn to my crew chief. “So tell me Alanzo, who else is pulling out?”

“No one
yet, but if you don’t finish top ten or take the 500, you’ll lose your ride for
sure. I’m sorry but this is a business—”

“It’s an
empire,” I reply, interrupting him, “It’s a dynasty my father built from—”

“Yes,”
he replies, “An empire your father built and keeps building but without him.
It’s going to crumble unless you can start winning races!”

“I can’t
believe I’m hearing this! I thought the Panata name meant something.” I point
to Enzo. “You guys have been getting rich off my name for years and—”

“Your
father’s name, Marco. We have done well because of your father and until you
prove that you’re cut from the same cloth as him, you’re going to lose Red Bull
and every other sponsor you have. My old man used to watch you when you were a
kid racing open wheel. Nobody could beat you and when you grew a little and
transferred to NASCAR we thought the same thing would happen so we sponsored
you. We came through for you but you haven’t done a thing for us.”

I’m so
angry I can’t think straight. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My father’s not
even cold and this guy’s talking about me not being cut from the same cloth? My
ass! I’ll show him. I’ll show them all. I’m pulling out all stops. I’m gonna
win races or die trying like my father did.

“When
are you going to be discharged?” Alanzo asks.

“Tomorrow.
Dr. Gordon is coming by after lunch with my papers giving me a clean bill of
health to get behind the wheel again.”

“Well
that’s good to hear,” my sponsor replies.

“Now if
you two will excuse me, I’m going to rest.”

“Sure
thing, Marco. I know you don’t like me right now, but I am on your side. And,
I’m really sorry about your father. I really am.”

I don’t
trust myself to speak any more. Instead I roll over in bed and shut my eyes.
Alanzo mutters something as he leaves. Somehow I knew this visit would be coming,
but it still caught me by surprise. With my father still racing it was next to,
if not impossible for me to make a name for myself separate from my father. I’m
on the racing team bearing our last name and sometimes even sharing things like
pit crew members and even backup cars. There was just no way to be my own man.
With my father gone I should have the chance to finally make a name for myself
separate from my father’s name. The only problem is, with his death and
sponsors threatening to pull out, I may not have the chance to prove myself.
I’ll have to talk to my crew chief, but I don’t think it is possible to earn
enough points in what’s left of the season to finish in the top ten and keep my
sponsors. That means, the only real chance I have at keeping the money rolling
in, primarily from Red Bull is to win the Daytona 500 at the end of the season.
I don’t know if that is a goal any more realistic than me placing top ten in
points.

Atlanta
Motor Speedway, Hampton GA: The ADVOCARE 500

Monday
morning, 7am…

“What
the hell’s going on out there?” hollers my Spotter Harvey.

“What’d
you mean?” I reply.

“This is
your fourth go around and you still haven’t turned a lap above 200! Get your
foot off the brake and show us what she can do.”

And
that’s what I get for not paying attention. We’re breaking in my back-up car.
We’ve only gone a couple miles and already I don’t like how she’s driving.

“You
gotta take out some of the wedge!” I holler back.

“Alright,
bring her in then,” Max replies.

When I
pull into pit row I have a surprise waiting for me. For some reason that new
nurse, Carrie something is standing there with her trauma kit, apparently
waiting for me. As I come to a full stop she approaches the car.

“Something
wrong Mr. Panata?” she asks.

“My
father’s Mr. Panata. Call me Marco. And no, nothing’s wrong. Why does everyone
think something is wrong?” I ask her.

“Because,”
begins my crew chief as he steps up to my window. “You turned in a top speed of
187 on that last lap! You keep runnin’ laps like that and you won’t even
qualify!”

Then he
turns to the new girl. “Carrie, I’m taking him out of the car. I want you to
check him out. Something’s up. Maybe the doctor’s at the hospital missed
something.”

“Yes
sir.”

Carrie

Atlanta
Motor Speedway’s Track Trauma Care Center...

I lead
Marco over to the trauma center to check out Team Panata’s sole heir and only
driver in the field. Word is, he’s going to lose Red Bull and his ride if he
doesn’t start driving like a superstar.

On race
day, this place is packed with medical personnel, the occasional driver, and
race fans who have succumbed to the heat, or too much alcohol, or any number of
medical issues that sometimes occur during the race. On a Monday morning, the
place is next to deserted. I pick an exam room and direct my patient to remove
his Nomex race suit.

“I told
you doc, I’m fit as a fiddle,” Marco complains.

“I’m not
your doctor, I’m a trauma nurse and I’ll decide how fit you are. Now please
remove your suit so I can complete my exam.”

Reluctantly
he removes his suit, but balks when it comes to the fireproof underwear.

“Seriously?”
I complain. “You afraid I might see something I haven’t already seen before?”

He
complies. When I’m working and a patient undresses in front of me, it usually
doesn’t register, no matter attractive he may be. I’m working so that part of
my mind stays switched off for the duration. For some reason when it comes to
Marco Panata, I can’t seem to do that.

I try
not to stare as the Nomex undergarments slide down over his broad shoulders,
revealing his smooth muscular chest. I watch the soft material slide down to
reveal the most mouthwatering set of six pack abs I have ever seen. My eyes
caress his every muscle as the material slips down over his narrow hips only to
reveal—

I snap
my eyes shut. I can’t be thinking about his manhood when I am supposed to be
giving him a medical exam. But I can’t help myself. He has certainly been
blessed in that all-important department.

“Doc,
what’re you doing?”

I let
slip an involuntary gasp, and my hand freezes on his hip. Oh my god, was I
about to cop a feel?

“S-sorry
Mister Pan...Marco, I just noticed something...Uh, do you have any pain here?”

“Where?”
he asks with a mischievous smile forming on his lips.

“Your...your
hip. I was just wondering if you were hurting there...on...your hip.”

“My hip
is fine doc, but I think I’ve got some swelling elsewhere...”

“Some
swelling?” I ask, not getting his meaning. Then it hits me. The man is getting
a hard on, right in front of me. This cannot be happening. I’m a trauma nurse
and I’m supposed to be giving this man a medical exam so he can finish his
practice laps.

“Come on
doc, aren’t you going to find out why?”

“I-I’m
n-not your doctor.”

“Okay
Nurse Carrie, I just think that maybe you should get a closer look.” he insists.

Before I
can form a suitable reply he takes two steps towards me, closing the distance
between our two bodies. I start to step back when his hands find my hips and he
pulls me into his body and his very rigid member. I let out an involuntary gasp
as his manhood presses insistently against my groin. I can feel my body respond
to his. I put my hands against his amazing, bare chest with the thought of
pushing him away but I just can’t seem to do it.

His
hands run up my body. I lift my head, a protest on the tip of my tongue when
his mouth finds mine and desire completely overtakes me. His hands find the
fastener on my own fire proof suit and he begins to strip me bare. Within
seconds my Nomex suit, bra and panties are around my ankles, and before I can think
about being self-conscious about it he’s lifting me onto the exam table.

I know I
shouldn’t be doing this. Unprofessionalism like this can ruin the career of a
team nurse faster than a car can go around the track. But I can’t help it. I am
beyond caring for anything but what my body is demanding. My hands push his
head down and my hips thrust upward, meeting his hot mouth.

“What
the hell’s taking so long?” calls a voice from the doorway.

Harvey
bursts into the trauma room. His mouth hangs open, he’s gawking like a
schoolboy. Shit!