In the Fast Lane (3 page)

They’d “figure it out”? With this stranger, who was staring at her as though he could see her very thoughts? Who didn’t break eye contact even when he pushed that ridiculously out-of-place suit jacket open to place long-fingered hands on attractively slim hips? Whose name she still didn’t know.

Do as he’d commanded?… Or drive over his foot?

Grady appeared next to the Colt man. She could see her big brother in her peripheral vision, but she refused to look away from the stranger’s burning brown eyes. She would
not
back down. Not from this man. Hell.
Especially
not from this man. He might already own the goods, but she would not sell her soul—and her father’s legacy—to a company like Colt International.

The thing was, trying to intimidate a guy this hot meant that, after a few tense seconds of holding his smoldering dark gaze, she found herself breathing a little faster, unable to look away.

Shit and damn. How was she supposed to run off this idiot asshole when she was probably flushed and definitely panting with this strange attraction?

“Kerri.” Grady was speaking slowly, as though he were trying to come between two wolves locked in a staring match … to the death.

Bit ambled up. Stepped right between her and Ranger, blocking him from her sight.

Thank God.

She’d been starting to worry that, for the first time since Dad had passed, she might lose a battle of wills. Not that she’d betray that feeling with so much as a sigh of relief.

“You brought it in pretty fast.” Bit’s blue eyes held the barest hint of amusement, but the grooves on the sides of his mouth and at the corner of his eyes didn’t even twitch. Bit had been the pit crew coach for Huntsville Racing, the team Dad had started out racing with nearly forty years ago. When Dad had broken away from the team to start Hart Racing, he’d brought Bit along with him. The older man had been like a second father to her.

She nodded. “I topped a hundred, easy.”

Bit leaned down, crowding his head and shoulders into the cage. He pitched his voice low. “You and I both know how good you are. That run you just did was enough for you to tell how the handling might have changed.” He finally smiled, a wry twist of his lips that made Kerri’s stomach bottom out. She knew what that look meant. “The race is important but this is more important. Time to get out of the car and face the music, Bambi. It’s not like you to run scared.”

Bambi.
Only Bit and Dad could ever get away with calling her that. They’d only ever used the nickname when they were trying to soften a blow.

Which certainly fit this situation.

Bit moved back, giving her room, and after a minute, she cut the engine.

Grady’s sigh of relief was so loud, it echoed. Bit finally allowed himself a wide grin. Only the man from Colt didn’t react. Just stood there with hands on hips, staring.

Well, this is awkward.

She unbuckled her harness, brought her hands up onto the roof, and twisted around, shimmying backward out of the window before dropping her legs to the asphalt. Still facing the car, she pulled her helmet off, reveling for a moment in the feeling of fresh air against the touch points that suffered the most—cheeks, chin, ears.

The pit was strangely quiet, given how much work there was left to be done before the race, but it was nice to have a second of relative calm before the storm. She squared her shoulders, steeling herself against the cold-hearted villain who wanted to take away everything that she held dear. But when she turned, she found herself so close to that hard body that she could pick up the woodsy scent of his aftershave through the smells of grease and burnt rubber—the usual hallmarks of her life. Heat invaded her body, the lines of his muscles through his clothes drew her eyes, and—

Damn
her treacherous body. Despite her mental resolve, her libido seemed determined to ignore everything except the desire to put her mouth on this man’s neck and scrape her teeth over the light stubble.

Which was probably why her words came out all breathy and weird. “I’m out of the car. Now what?” She hated the way she sounded, like a fangirl meeting a celebrity crush.

Focus, Kerri.
She was not going to let a passing attraction allow someone to take advantage of her. Especially not a man who had somehow ended up with control over the thing she’d worked so hard to hold onto. Hart Racing was the only thing still keeping her family together.

He tightened his neck again. “Now it’s time to put out a fire.”

*   *   *

He’d thought she was beautiful in photos. The publicity glossies he’d seen featured a petite, slender woman with great legs and long light brown hair that curled a little at the ends. The slight squaring of her chin—a stubborn chin, he knew now—in her otherwise delicately curved face offset a pair of full, lush lips.

In person, her eyes were even more incredible. Alive and full of fire. He’d already been surprised enough at the difference from her photos that he’d gotten distracted by the force of his own reaction to her. And when she took off her helmet, it only amplified. All the blood rushed to his groin and he had to jump-start his thoughts a couple of times before his brain reluctantly kicked in again. He almost wished she’d left it on.

It took him a moment to realize that her hazel eyes had gone dark green, intensely dark. She lifted her chin just enough to make it appear as though she were looking down on him, even though she had to be at least half a foot shorter. “I don’t know what the hell that was about, but you’ve got five seconds to explain yourself before I punch you in the teeth.”

He snorted with mock amusement. “Given your reputation for being a loose cannon, I’m surprised you haven’t
already
decked me.”

Danny and Kyle snickered.

But Kerri simply crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him calmly. “One.”

Interesting.
For all that the press had painted her as a hotheaded little thing—hell, even Grady had said she had a temper—it suddenly occurred to Ranger that she’d managed to keep her cool long enough to control a spinning car at over a hundred miles per hour and still manage to have a conversation with her panicking brother
and
a complete stranger. And now she was waiting patiently as anything, even though her eyes were snapping with something almost intimidating in their intensity.

Her gaze flicked downward and her lips quirked up. “Two.”

Fuck.
At least one part of his body still hadn’t received the message that it wasn’t time to play right now. Ranger yanked his suit jacket closed before it became obvious to anyone else. Some things were meant to stay private.

“Three. You’re running out of time, mister.”

She didn’t even know his name.

For some reason,
that
was what got him talking. Not because he didn’t doubt she would whomp him good. He could take a punch, though. What he didn’t understand was why he wanted her to know it was
him
, damn it. Not some anonymous
mister
.

“Call me Ranger. Or just Colt, if you have to. Either way, if you care about the reputation of Hart Racing and being able to do your job without you or your crew being hounded in the media, then I suggest you uncross your arms, look wildly happy to see me, and let me escort you to a private place where we can talk about what happens next.”

She blinked at him. “
Ranger
Colt? That’s your real name?”

Was this woman really giving him shit about his name? He’d seen her stats on the profile sheet in the portfolio.

Kerri
Lorettalynn
Hart wasn’t in a position to throw stones.

But he didn’t call her out on that. Instead, he kept his gaze as cool as hers was hot. “Apparently, my mother liked it enough to give it to me. We can exchange pleasantries later, though. Right now, we’ve got some damage control to do.”

The corners of her mouth turned down, and she gave her head a small shake. “I’m sorry for being rude.”

Well. Another surprise. Maybe she wasn’t as much of a hellcat as he’d thought.

“But I don’t know a damn thing about you, and you want me to give up my practice time for whatever fool scheme you’ve come up with to fix that mess that
Earl
just made? Why should I trust an overdressed, soft-handed corporate suit like you?”

Okay. Maybe she was.

But there was something about that fire that was getting to him, despite that she’d just insulted him. He ignored the temptation to reach out and touch her, to show her that his hands weren’t soft, but if she begged nicely, they could be gentle in just the right ways …

Grady broke in. “Kerri, I think—”

“Shut up, Grady.”

Poor Grady. Man was having a rough day, it seemed. But Ranger couldn’t worry about that. He had to get ahold of this situation before it got even more insane.

“Trust has nothing to do with this. I own that car behind you.” He gestured to her Chevy. “Hell.” He let his eyes flick over her body, trying not to linger on the curves of her breast under that tight jacket. “I even own that racing suit you’re wearing.” He reluctantly brought his gaze back up to her face. Her eyes were narrowed and she looked like she was about to deck him. For some reason, it made him grin. “But why
should
you trust me? Because I’m real good at what I do,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off hers for a second.

Was it just him, or did it feel like every exchange they had was somehow laden with innuendo? He didn’t say anything else after that, just watched her stand there all stiff and belligerent-looking.

After another minute, she slowly uncrossed her arms.

Ranger didn’t let his face betray his relief. But he was relieved, and not just because things could have gotten real ugly if she’d refused. He was just so goddamned out of his element here. Kerri was right, that he was overdressed, but he’d mistakenly stuck with his usual uniform of a dark, perfectly tailored suit and Italian leather shoes because he’d thought it would make him feel more in control.

Except that here, he was the odd man out, the insane guy who careened down ladders to shout at a bunch of mechanics in colorful uniforms and rubber-soled, steel-toed boots.

She turned and handed her helmet to Bit. “Needs more side bite.” Her voice was soft, but brittle-sounding, as though she were chewing on broken glass.

What the hell did
side bite
mean?

Bit nodded, and that was it. The next thing Ranger knew, she had stepped close and was pulling off her gloves, which she bundled together in her left hand before sliding her right one into the crook of his elbow. It felt like spikes were digging into his skin where she was gripping his arm.

At least she hadn’t punched him in the teeth.

Kerri nudged her elbow into Ranger’s ribs, making him grunt. Not as hot-tempered as he’d expected, but certainly not a wilting flower, either. He turned to look down at her. She was smiling now, just as he’d asked, looking to the world like she was as happy as could be. But he didn’t miss the way her eyes were still flashing a fiery gray green.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s find out just how good you are, Ranger Colt.”

Chapter Three

Outwardly, Kerri was smiling. Calm, even.

On the inside, her stomach was churning and the acidic taste of humiliation was making her want to retch.

Nothing like a near-death marriage proposal, the loss of the majority share of the family business to a company she
hated
, and a blazing, soul-consuming attraction to a total stranger within a span of five minutes to make a girl feel sick to her stomach.

But the scent of him …
oh, Lord
. And the warmth of his body against her side. It had made her dizzy and achy in places that she hadn’t even known she had. The way he’d looked at her, all smoldering and suggestive, hadn’t helped her own internal temperature, either.

Or had that just been the reflection of the sun in his eyes that made his gaze seem so hot?

It had to have been the latter. Earl had told her often enough that she was too intimidating. It was why he’d needed plenty of time to prepare before he could perform in bed. In that way, at least, she and Earl been well matched, since he had never made her feel anything beyond a few twinges of arousal.

While this man—Ranger—made her feel
liquid
with only a look.

An angry look, no less.

He had no right to be angry. He had no right to order her around the way he had. She was the one who’d been asked to compromise her principles for his stupid company, whereas he probably had no principles whatsoever. She was the one whose entire life had just been purchased. It wasn’t clear yet exactly how much of Hart Racing he owned, but certainly enough to make him act like he owned
her
.

Did he always act like that? Was it just a part of who he was?

The way he’d ordered her out of the car … his eyes like a predator’s, watching her bend and twist her body through the window … Was he always that domineering? If they’d been alone, would he have ordered her to strip out of her suit and get on her knees—

“Where’s the pressroom?” Ranger looked over at Grady, who was walking alongside them as they left the stall.

Blood rushed to Kerri’s cheeks and made her feel light-headed again, but she didn’t falter in her steps.
Christ.
What was wrong with her? It was bad enough having
those kinds
of thoughts about a high-handed ass like Ranger Colt, she didn’t need to add falling on her face to her list of humiliations.

Grady pointed to a low, sleek building across the infield. “There. The media center.”

Ranger was already moving toward it, but the moment they left the secured area, the shouts began. Reporters swarmed them, cameras flashing from all directions.

“Miss Hart! Are you going to accept the proposal?”

“Mr. Hart, rumor has it that Colt International has bought out Hart Racing. Can you confirm?”