On the Move (13 page)

Read On the Move Online

Authors: Pamela Britton

Tags: #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Contemporary Romance, #Sports & Recreation, #Automobile Racing, #Motor Sports

BOOK: On the Move
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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
S
UCKER.
Schmo.

Sap.

These were the words Vicky called herself the whole way back to her hotel. Just what the hell had possessed her to allow that no-good, smooth-tongued jerk to talk her into sticking around for a little bit longer as his agent. She must have
chump
stamped on her forehead or something. Either that or she was just desperate for a job. Probably a combination of both.

And now he knew.

He
knew
about the attraction she fought. Crap. Why the hell had she admitted to that?

Because you’d thought you were quitting,
she told herself.

Only she wasn’t. And now she’d spend the next few days wondering what Brandon would do with the knowledge that she wanted to sleep with him. Probably nothing. Yeah, he’d kissed her a couple times, but that’d all been for show. He didn’t really find her attractive.

When she got into her room she noticed her phone blinked. She had a message from Scott. “Hey, I just heard from Brandon that you’re sticking it out. Way to go, Vicky. Glad to hear it. Call me and tell me how the meeting went with KEM.”

There was no “Goodbye.” No “Thanks.” No “How are you?” It was typical Scott. What’d she expect? A bouquet of roses and a band playing in her room?

She sat down on the edge of the bed. Well, wilted was more like it, her upper body sagging forward so that she was forced to hold her head up with her hands.

“You, Vicky, are a total schmuck.”

S
HE SPENT THE REST
of the day finalizing the details on an apartment near the outskirts of Huntersville. She only signed a month-to-month lease because she had no idea how long she’d be forced to play babysitter to Brandon. Hopefully, not long.
She never called Scott back. It was a rash act of rebellion that felt pretty good. To be honest, she expected to hear from Brandon, but she didn’t. The only person who called was Mrs. Parsons and she phoned the next day. Vicky was surprised to hear another meeting at KEM had been called. Terrific. Just what she needed. More worrying about what Brandon would say. More fears that this time, whatever inflammatory remark he spewed would result in his firing. More concern that she should have left North Carolina before
she
was fired. She didn’t bother to see if Brandon needed a ride, or if he planned to show up. If he wasn’t there, he wasn’t there. She was tired of roping him in.

So when she pulled into a spot outside the familiar office complex, she didn’t search for his car. To be honest, she probably wouldn’t have found it even if she
were
looking. There appeared to be some kind of company event going on. A corporate affair that, judging by the numerous three-sided tents set up around the courtyard, was meant to be enjoyed by employees. Game booths, their white facades glaringly bright beneath the early-morning sun, held colorful stuffed animals and balloons and even fishbowls. An inflatable slide, the kind normally found at carnivals, sat to the left of the booths, children merrily climbing up and then sliding down it with gleeful whoops of joy. Out in the parking lot, in the spots reserved for guests and their vehicles, a miniature roller coaster had been erected, the ride painted to look like a green dragon. She spotted a white-and-blue news van, too, the camera crew unloading equipment from the back of open double doors.

Wow.

What would it be like to work for a company like KEM, one that did such cool things for its employees that it attracted media attention? She spotted a popcorn stand and a cotton-candy booth near the entrance to the giant courtyard between KEM’s U-shaped building. When she got out of her car, she could smell grilled meat and hear the clank-clank-clank of the roller coaster climbing the rails.

What she wouldn’t give to be strolling around, too.

The sound of raised voices and the squeals of excited children only increased her longing. She wanted to hang in the courtyard, to watch people at play. Alas, she had that damn meeting. But maybe after. She wasn’t doing much now that she’d gotten the condo situation under control. In fact, she’d been kind of wondering if she should call Scott and ask him if he wanted her to do some actual work while she was “on the job.”

“What’s going on outside?” she asked the receptionist.

“Annual Employee Appreciation Day,” the woman said, sliding her a clipboard so Vicky could sign in. “You’re Brandon Burke’s agent, aren’t you?”

Vicky felt her stomach drop as though she was outside on that ride. “Yes.” How’d she know that?

What did Brandon do now? she wondered.

She could tell by the look on the receptionist’s face that something was up. The woman could barely contain her smile as she gazed up at Vicky

“Perfect,” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Vicky asked. “Am I late or something?”

“Oh, no,” the woman said, punching a button. In a low voice she said, “She’s here,” to someone on the other end of the phone. “Mrs. Knight will be right with you,” the receptionist said to Vicky.

“Excuse me,” Vicky said. “I don’t think I’m supposed to be meeting with her.” Or was she? Mrs. Parsons hadn’t told her exactly what they were supposed to be doing today.

“Oh, your meeting’s with her, all right,” the receptionist said. “And a few other people.” Then the woman began to choke, but not before Vicky had heard the laughter she tried to hide.

What the heck was going on? And where was Brandon? She was half tempted to ask if he’d arrived, but something about the way the woman was acting made Vicky turn away.

“Vicky?” a woman asked a few minutes later.

Vicky turned toward the voice, surprised to see such a warm smile on Mrs. Knight’s face. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting Mrs. Knight to look like, but this wasn’t it. Small of stature with a slight limp, the blond-haired woman looked more like a PTA mom than the svelte, überglamorous woman she would have thought Mathew Knight would be married to. In her beige slacks and dark blue shirt—one with KEM’s logo on the left pocket—she looked more like an employee than the wife of one of America’s richest men.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Kristen Knight.” The hand Vicky clasped had a firm grip, and short nails. Not a manicure in sight. “So glad you could make it,” she added.

“Um, me, too,” Vicky said. “But I’m a bit confused as to what this is all about. I thought I was meeting with your husband and Mrs. Parsons again, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing them soon. But first, I wanted to have a little chitchat.”

Kristen Knight wanted to “chat”? This got stranger and stranger by the minute.

“Have you been shown around the shop?”

“No. Um. Not yet. I’ve been kind of…busy when I’ve had meetings here in the past.”

“Oh, good. Then I’ll do it.”

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. I’d rather just start the meeting. Or is Brandon not here yet?” Vicky asked, concerned.

“Oh, no. He’s here,” Kristen said, the same sort of smile as the receptionist’s lighting her eyes. “He can wait.”

“Oh, but I—”

“Or don’t you want a look around?”

“I’d
love
a look around,” Vicky quickly said. “It’s just that…”

I’m confused as hell as to what’s going on because it was plain as day
something
was up.

“I just thought we were pressed for time,” Vicky said.

“Nope,” Kristen said. “Follow me. It’s actually a pretty neat setup. The NASCAR Sprint Cup Series car shop on the right side of the building, the NASCAR Nationwide Series car operation on the left.”

What followed was a tour that took nearly an hour. Vicky was shown through both car shops and the whole time she kept peeking glances at her watch, her heart rate increasing in direct proportion to each passing minute. It was one of those uncomfortable situations where she didn’t know how to behave. She kept wanting to interrupt Kristen, to point out that they had to hurry up, but the woman was Mathew Knight’s wife. Surely she knew when, how and where the meeting was, and if it was important that they hurry up and arrive. That thought was confirmed when, unbelievably enough, she learned that Kristen was one of KEM’s top engineers, and that not only was she good at her job, but she was a well-liked and well-respected member of the team. At least judging by the warm smiles they received everywhere they went. Granted, the vast majority of employees were outside, but there could be no mistaking the affection she saw in everyone’s eyes.

“Look,” Vicky said. “I really think I should get going. I don’t want Brandon to think I’ve stood him up.” Lord knows it was never pretty when that happened.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Kristen said. “He knows you’re here.”

“He does?”

“Sure. He’s been with my husband. Man talk,” Kristen said. “Actually, I’m pleased they’re sitting down and hashing things out.”

Without her. Oh, crap. Brandon would be furious that she’d been waylaid, even if it was by his boss’s wife.

“But…I’m supposed to be in there with him.”

“Not yet,” Kristen said. “In a few.” She must have seen the panic in Vicky’s eyes so she added, “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.
Trust
me.”

Vicky didn’t know Kristen well enough to trust her, damn it.

“So,” Kristen asked in a very obvious attempt at changing the subject. “How long have you known Brandon?”

They were waiting to take an elevator upstairs to the administrative offices. Kristen wanted to show Vicky around, even though as she’d explained earlier, most of the administrative offices would be empty desks.

“Only a couple weeks,” Vicky answered with another quick glance at her watch.

“Do you enjoy working with him?”

Vicky hesitated. “Um, sure,” she answered.

“Uh-oh,” Kristen said. “I recognize that tone of voice.”

“What tone?”

“I’ve been in your shoes before,” Kristen said. “It isn’t easy being a woman in a man’s world, or dealing with male egos or starting a new job. You are new at this, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“That’s what I thought. You’ve done well then. I respect that you’ve toughed it out this long.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how much longer I last.” If she didn’t get to Brandon soon, she had a feeling she’d have a fight on her hands.

“Oh, I think you’ll be around for a little while longer yet.”

“What makes you say that?”

Kristen’s phone trilled. “Oops. Probably my husband.” She fished a tiny black cell phone out of her pocket. “Hey,” she answered after pressing the talk button.

“We’re ready,” replied a masculine voice Vicky had only ever heard from across the expanse of a conference table.

“We are? Great.”

“There’s at least twenty people in line already.”

“Only twenty?” Kristen asked with a wry grin in Vicky’s direction. “I’d have thought it’d be longer than that.”

“I’m sure it will be, once word gets around. By the way, Todd’s first in line.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Kristen said. “We’re on our way.” She snapped the phone closed, stuffed it in her pocket right as the elevator pinged. Kristen ignored it and they turned away.

They didn’t head toward the conference room that Vicky expected to be taken to. Instead they headed back toward the reception desk.

“Where are we going?” Vicky asked.

“You’ll see,” Kristen said.

What was going on?
Vicky wondered as they exited the building.

Outside the festivities were in full swing. The booths were set up around the perimeter of the courtyard so she had an unobstructed view of everything. There seemed to be one booth in particular that had more people around it than the others. But it wasn’t really a booth, she noticed. It was more of a dunk tank.

She felt her brow wrinkle in confusion. Had that been there before? She certainly hadn’t noticed it. She saw why the moment they drew closer. It’d been covered up. But now it was exposed. It looked as if someone was inside already, and that people were lined up to try their hand at plunging him into the water. Whoever that unfortunate person was, he wouldn’t be dry for long, at least judging by the determination that glinted from the first participant’s eyes.

Wait a second.

That was Todd Peters.

Was this where she and Kristen were supposed to meet Mathew Knight? If that were true, then where was Brandon? She eyed the glass cube.

He sat on the perch above the water. “What is
he
doing in there?” Vicky asked.

Kristen had a delighted smile on her face. “Humiliating himself.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN
B
RANDON KNEW
Vicky had seen him.
Boom.

He jumped, not having seen Todd fling the ball at the booth’s bull’s-eye. A collective gasp filled the air. Brandon, miraculously, still retained his perch.

He glanced around at the crowd. All right, maybe, just maybe, this idea had been over the top, although to be honest it wasn’t really his idea. Kristen Knight had told him about the Employee Appreciation Day, and that if he really wanted to make amends to all the KEM people he’d insulted, he’d volunteer himself for target practice. Of course, it was Vicky he really wanted to prove himself to, but if this was one way to get her attention, he’d volunteer to be dunked.

“Go, go, go,” someone chanted, others taking up the call. Brandon braced himself. Todd had been handed another ball. He’d learned from Mathew Knight that each person had three tries to bring the dunkee down. Todd looked ready to do exactly that.

“Hoo, boy,” Brandon groaned. It was eerily quiet inside the glass box. Water sloshed against the sides thanks to his legs that dangled into the frigid water.

“You’re going down,” he thought he heard Todd cry, although Brandon supposed he might have read the man’s lips.

He braced himself.

The ball was flung. Brandon winced.

Bam.

One minute he was sitting, the next he was falling into the coldest damn water he’d ever felt.

“Crap.”

When he came back up a split second later, it was in time to hear the crowd’s raucous cheers.

Well, all righty then. Mission accomplished. He’d completely humiliated himself in front of KEM’s employees, not to mention Vicky and the media. This ought to make front-page news, at least in the sports section.

“Come on out,” someone called from above him.

Brandon looked up. Mathew Knight stared down at him, the biggest grin Brandon had ever seen stretching from cheek to cheek.

“I’m ready,” Brandon said, unable to resist smiling back. He and his boss had had a heart-to-heart earlier in the day, and he had to admit, Mathew Knight wasn’t the jerk Brandon had thought him to be. “A little wet, but ready.”

He thought the man might have chuckled, but it was hard to tell with the water sloshing along the sides of the tank. There was a ladder to his right. He began to climb, and to his surprise, Mathew held out a hand.

“Thanks,” Brandon said.

“Your hand is
cold,
” his boss said.

“I was freezing my you-know-what off in there,” he said. Despite the fact that it was easily eighty degrees outside and sunny, the water had chilled him. “Probably because I’m half-naked.”

“Yeah,” Mathew said. “Your fans should see you now.”

Actually, there was only one person he sought out, and she met his gaze instantly.

“Hey, there,” he called. “Glad you could make it.”

Someone handed him a towel. Brandon sat on the edge of the tank and slid his legs out, his gaze never leaving Vicky’s. She stood near Kristen Knight. He felt a drop of water drip down his neck. It lingered for a moment near his collarbone then dripped down his chest. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought he saw Vicky’s gaze follow its trail.

I’m attracted to you.

Her words rang out in his head. If he were honest with himself, he could admit he was fiercely attracted to her, too. Surprisingly attracted. She wasn’t his type. Sure, he’d kissed her a time or two, but that’d just been a way of shutting her up, or at least that’s what he’d told himself. But as he stood there watching her, he admitted that he’d liked the way she looked at him. He wasn’t a trophy to her. He could see that in her eyes. She wanted him for him. In a physical way. She might not like it. She might fight it. But she felt it.

That turned him on.

Man,
did it ever turn him on.

“Todd, you’re next,” Mathew said as Brandon climbed down. It was time to see if watching him play Dunk the Driver had softened Vicky’s attitude at all.

“I’m not going in there,” Brandon heard Todd say.

Brandon paused by the edge of the tank, still toweling himself off. He smiled at Vicky, telling her without a word that he’d be right over.

“What?” he said. “You can dunk me, but I can’t do it to you?”

Todd squared off, his wide shoulders flexing as he crossed his arms. “I didn’t say that,” Todd said. “I’m just afraid if you throw balls anything like you drive, I might be in for a bumpy ride.”

The words weren’t said in anger. They weren’t muttered in a snide tone. Brandon realized in that instant that he was being teased by his rival. Two weeks ago he might have jumped down Todd’s throat. Two weeks ago he might have said something back. Today he just smiled.

“You got that right.”

A few people laughed. Someone said, “Get in there, Peters. I want a turn.”

Brandon looked around. It was Todd’s crew chief who’d spoken.

“I’m next,” someone else said.

Chad, Brandon’s own crew chief, said, “I’m just disappointed I didn’t get
my
turn to dunk him.”

“Don’t worry,” Brandon said. “I’ll give you another shot in a minute.”

“Right on,” Chad said, a grin just about splitting his face in half.

“Just as long as I can take a few pitches at you,” Brandon added.

Chad came forward. He held out his hand. “You got it, buddy.”

Brandon admitted in that moment that he’d never, not once, felt this much camaraderie with a team as he currently felt with this one. Maybe back in the early days, when he’d started his career and all he had was his dad and a few friends. But never since.

He turned to Vicky.

She was smiling, actually
smiling
at him.

He’d have sat in twenty dunk tanks if he’d known that’s all it would take. Warm North Carolina air clung to his skin. It felt good. His bare feet scuffed the rough surface of the concrete. The soothing warmth sent a chill up his spine.

“Cold?” she asked.

He gazed down at her. She’d worn her hair down today. He liked it like that. She’d left her glasses behind, too, and so he had a clear view of her eyes. They were as green as the rolling hills that surrounded his home, and as usual, they met his gaze head-on.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she said.

“I can’t believe I did it, too.” He glanced back toward the tank. Todd was stripping down to his skivvies, his head obscured by the T-shirt he pulled off. “But I’m glad I did,” Brandon added, turning back to her.

“Are you?”

He nodded. “When Kristen suggested I do this as a way of showing people my human side, I thought she was nuts.” Actually it was only Vicky that he’d wanted to prove something to, but she didn’t need to know what. “She was convinced it might help smooth things over between me and the rest of the team.”
And me and you.
“So I did it.”

“Well, whatever your reasons, it was a good thing to do.”

“You think?”

He saw her glance down, then immediately look away. Brandon thought she might have blushed, but it was hard to tell with her standing beneath the bright Carolina sun. “I’m certain of it,” she mumbled.

Water ran down his back. He swung his towel so that it hung around the back of his neck. Only when he continued to play with the ends did he admit that he was nervous for some strange reason.

“So, ah…I guess you’ve figured out that this was the meeting I needed you to attend.”

“Was it? Kristen Knight mentioned you had a meeting with Mr. Knight earlier. How’d that go?”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Really good.” He turned away. Todd was climbing into the dunk tank, much to the delight of his crew. The good-natured ribbing brought a smile to Brandon’s face. “I think this is going to work out,” he heard himself say.

“Do you?” she asked, and when he faced her again, her eyes were intense. “Do you really? Because I’ve got to tell you. It’d make my job a heck of a lot easier.”

“I do,” Brandon said. The time for games was over, he realized. Not just with Vicky, but with his career, too. She’d helped him see that. “I’m sorry for all the grief I’ve put you through.”

He didn’t think she’d accept his apology. Frankly, he wouldn’t have blamed her. But to his surprise, she looked him in the eyes and said, “That’s okay. I understand why you feel the way you do.”

“Uh-oh,” he teased. “Not more psychoanalysis.”

“No,” she said. Then she smiled again and he felt something strange happen. It forced him to look away. “I promise none of that anymore.”

“Actually, I don’t think I minded it.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “You made me take a good, hard look at myself. I didn’t like what I saw.”

“But you saw it,” she said softly. “A lot of people look in mirrors and never see their faults. You did, and you took steps to make things right. I respect that.”

“You do?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good. I’m glad.”

She refused to meet his gaze. Even when he shifted a little so that he stepped directly into her line of sight. She couldn’t lift her head, she seemed to be afraid to.

“About that other little problem I have,” he heard himself say.

Her eyes lifted, snapped to his for a second, but only a split second, and when she looked away, he saw her gaze catch on his bare chest again.

She swallowed.

He could see her do it. Could see the tense brackets around her mouth. He saw her blink afterward, and then blink again, as if she fought to erase the image of him half-naked from her mind’s eye.

“What problem?” she asked.

“Look,” he said, lowering his voice, leaning toward her.

The brackets around her mouth deepened.

“I really need help,” he said softly. “I’m tired of having to use a software program to decipher what a document says.”

“Is that how you do it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I just scan stuff into the computer and it reads it back to me. But I’m sick of it. I want to learn to read on my own.”

“We can hire someone.”

“I want
you.
” This time when her gaze caught his own, she held it.

“You offered yourself to me once before, but I was too much of a fool to take you up on it.”

“No, Brandon. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said, stepping closer to her, watching her chest rise and fall and feeling her breath waft across his bare chest.

“You can,” he said again, “and it’ll be good.”

He wasn’t referring to his reading. She had to have picked up on that, at least judging by the way her breathing suddenly grew irregular.

“I’ll look into hiring someone,” she said, stepping back and pulling her hand out of his grasp.

“I only want you,” he said.

Once again, their gazes met.

What was it about her that had him feeling out of breath, too? Why did he suddenly find himself noticing things about her that he’d never noticed before? Like the way the sun caught strands of her hair and turned it nearly blond. Or how her teeth raked her bottom lip whenever she was uncomfortable…like now. Or how adorable her nose was, small with just the tiniest little tilt at the end.

Adorable?

Yeah, he admitted.
Adorable.

“Look, Brandon. I’m more than happy to help.”

He saw her take a deep breath, saw her square her shoulders by hiking them up and pulling them back. “But I can’t do it myself.”

“Yes,” he said. “You can. Tonight. We’ll get started tonight.”

“No,” she said.

He was already backing away, already turning back to the dunk tank. “Six,” he called out. “We’ll get an early start.”

“Brandon—”

“I’ll see you then,” he said. “Unless you’re going to stick around and watch me dunk Peters here.”

“Brandon—”

“See you tonight,” he said, cutting her off.

He didn’t give her time to say his name again, and even if she had, he would have ignored her. He almost laughed when he took a quick glance over his shoulder. Vicky looked so thoroughly frustrated, so adorably piqued that he almost took pity on her. Almost.

She won’t show.

What will you do if she does show?

He smiled. Oh, he had a pretty good idea about what he’d
like
to do. He just doubted he’d be given the opportunity.

“You back for more?” Mathew Knight asked, still perched atop the dunk tank, albeit with Todd Peters inside now.

Brandon nodded. “But not before I dunk him.”

Todd must have heard because he said challengingly, “Good luck with that.”

“I don’t need luck,” Brandon said. “I make my own luck.”

“Go get in line,” Mathew Knight said with a laugh.

Brandon nodded, but then his own smile faded. “Hey, Mr. Knight,” he asked in a voice low enough that only his boss could hear. “Can I talk to you about something in a bit?”

The space between Mr. Knight’s brows crinkled. “What about?”

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