One in a Million (7 page)

“Let's get some air.” His other hand tightened on her waist as he steered her through the crowd, out the French doors to a terrace. Along the railing, potted geraniums gave off a roselike scent. Beyond, the lights of uptown Charlotte glowed orange and red.

“Great view,” Jen said, suddenly breathless.

“Amazing.” Eli's eyes fixed on her mouth with an intensity that was incredibly flattering.

That was Eli, she reminded herself. Intense…for as long as the moment lasted.

He pulled her into his arms.

“Jen.” His voice developed a heavy, curious quality that despite her total lack of experience with a man like him, some deep, inner part of her recognized.

“Yes,” she said huskily. An instruction, not a question.

His eyes flared. His mouth came down on hers.

Jen felt as if her whole life, all twenty-two years, had been preparation for this moment. Preparation for the coaxing warmth of Eli's lips, for the possessive grasp of his hands. She shouldn't find this safe; it was the most dangerous thing
she'd ever done…and yet underlying the adrenaline rush was a sense that this was
right
.

She parted her lips, welcomed him in…and the thrill got a whole lot more potent. Eli was all man: broad shoulders, strong arms and those oh-so-tempting lips. His hands roamed her curves, telling her how much he desired her.

She didn't want this kiss ever to end.

A flash of bright light startled her. Eli sprang away, lightning-quick.

“What the hell,” he growled.

The photographer snapped another shot. “Sorry, folks, didn't mean to interrupt.” He slipped his camera back into his bag in a hurry, perhaps recognizing Eli's intent to seek and destroy. “Tony Cinzano,
National Echo.
Any chance I could have the lady's name for my caption?”

Eli's snarl discouraged him from waiting around for an answer.

Jennifer tugged her bodice back into place, her fumbling fingers a marked contrast to the grace, the poetry of that kiss. “Blast,” she muttered.

“No one with any sense reads that rag,” Eli assured her.

“My grandfather doesn't, thank goodness,” she agreed. “If you and I are going to do…this kind of thing I want him to find out about it from me, not some newspaper.”

 

E
LI WOULD HAVE LIKED
to have enjoyed Jen's sweet taste a bit longer. He could slug that photographer, interrupting the best kiss of his—

It's been a while, that's all. A kiss is just a kiss.

But the kiss was over and, tactless though it seemed, coming on the heels of that sensuous encounter, Jen had just handed Eli the perfect opportunity to deliver his news about the change in status of their relationship.

He just needed to remember he was mad with her, so he could take the moral high ground, unfamiliar territory that he suspected she pretty much had staked out.

“We won't be
doing this kind of thing
again,” he said.

Her hands stilled where they'd been adjusting one of the straps of her dress. “You sound very sure about that.”

“You put my job in danger with that stuff you said to Gil this afternoon.”

“You did that,” she corrected him, “by going after a new job.”

“You made things worse,” he accused. “Who knows what that reporter will write?”

“It can't be worse than what she planned to write anyway.”

Eli might have known she wouldn't give up without a fight. He had no choice but to be direct. “Jen, I'm ending our relationship.”

She blinked. Then her hand went to her lips as if to confirm that, yes, the man who was now dumping her was the same one who'd kissed her a moment ago.

Eli shifted on his feet. “I shouldn't have kissed you,” he said quickly. “But you were there and I was there…I seized the moment.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that's all that kiss was?”

“That's right.” He sounded belligerent, so he toned it down. “Having you around will remind Gil how angry he is. The opposite of what I'm trying to achieve. The fake girlfriend routine isn't working anymore. So, it's over.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head. “It's too late for that, Eli.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I care about you.” And as if that wasn't bad enough, she added, “And you care about me.”

Blood rushed at Eli's temples. “No, I don't.”

“I know you like to keep your relationships short and saccharine-sweet,” she said. “But all that fake sugar isn't good for you. You need to toughen up and try the real thing.”

“I don't know what the hell you're talking about.” But he was certain he didn't like it.

“You're afraid of being abandoned again,” she said, “the way your family abandoned you, over and over. But it doesn't have to be like that.”

A tight band constricted Eli's throat, he couldn't breathe. He tugged at his bow tie with both hands, and found air…just in time for Jen to land her sucker-punch.

“As of now, Eli, I'm your real girlfriend.”

 

J
EN HADN'T INTENDED TO SAY
that at all. But somehow, she knew it was the right thing. Not that Eli
wanted
a real girlfriend—or at least, not that he knew it.

He safeguarded his heart by always having the Next Big Thing lined up, whether it was a house, a job or a woman. The loneliness that corroded his ability to stick with a relationship was deep-seated.

But she believed he wasn't beyond repair. That Eli had it in him to form regular relationships. To be, in that respect at least, an ordinary guy.

The horror on his face was almost comical.

“Jen,” he warned.

She went up on tiptoe, planted a kiss on his mouth. As if she was entitled. He instinctively kissed her back, but cut it short with a scowl. “If you
care
about me—” he threw her words back at him “—you'll give this up. I'm telling you, Gil doesn't want you around.”

“And if I'm not around, you'll have those fans swarming
all over you again. Gil won't like that, either. I reckon at this stage he's pretty much a neutral factor in the equation.”

“Okay, then,
I
don't want you around,” he said. “You're a pain in the butt.”

She recognized bluster when she saw it. “Right now, it's you and me against the world, Eli. Do you want it to be just you?”

He opened his mouth, so she hurried on before he said something he felt he couldn't back down on. “I think you and I could have something special, and I want you to give us a chance.”

“You want a guy with a regular job, for Pete's sake!”

“I guess I can't have everything.” She patted his hand. “If it's any consolation, this is downright dangerous for me, Eli. For an ordinary girl like me, dating you is like letting a fox into the henhouse.”

“You're nuts.” But the image must have appealed to him, because he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. She nipped the soft pad, and he growled, a low sound that made her stomach curl. “If you want to see some fox-in-henhouse action, just keep doing that,” he dared her.

Reluctantly she pulled away. “This isn't about a physical relationship, Eli. Not yet. This is good, clean dating.”

He made a sound reminiscent of steam coming out of a cartoon character's ears. “We're not dating. I don't want to date you.”

The rejection stabbed, but Jen rallied and smiled. “Calm down, sweetie. Let's go dance some more. Then I might let you kiss me again.”

Gil Sizemore wasn't the only person to notice a dazed Eli being led forcibly across the dance floor by a petite, determined woman. Jen only just managed to stifle her giggle.

B
Y THE TIME
E
LI CALMED
down enough to stop dancing with Jen—he had to find something to do with his hands, or else he'd strangle her—the crowd was starting to dwindle.

He'd put off going home, because it meant being alone with her and he was damned if he was going to listen to any more of her garbage about him being
abandoned
.

But the staff were cleaning up, and they couldn't stay. Jen retrieved her purse from the cloakroom and they headed for the door.

“Eli.” Dixon Rogers called out. He beckoned to Eli.

“Wait here,” Eli told Jen.

To his annoyance, she followed him.

“I owe you a phone call,” Dixon said. “Might as well save myself the quarter.”

He rearranged his troubled thoughts, found his smile. “Hi, Dixon.” Reluctantly he introduced the Fulcrum Racing owner to Jen.

“I'm his girlfriend,” Jen chirped.

Dixon smiled at her enthusiasm, then turned to Eli. “Our meeting on Wednesday…I've come to a conclusion.”

Eli held his breath.

“I like the way you think, I like what you do on the track,” Dixon said. “You've had a bad run lately, but you also have a flair that not many drivers share. Every guy out on that track is good, but only a handful have the air of a champion. To my mind, you're one of them.”

“Thank you, sir.” Eli felt almost as if he was blushing at such praise from a man who was one of his longtime heroes. He knew without a doubt that Dixon's next words would be a job offer. And he knew what he would say: yes. This would solve all his problems.

“Aargh.” Jen clutched her stomach and doubled over.

“Are you all right?” Dixon's face crinkled with concern.

What the hell was she up to now?

“She's fine,” Eli said. “You were saying?”

Jen gave a low moan. Dixon ignored Eli to focus on her. Which was exactly the reason for this little charade, Eli fumed. Not content with ruining his life with Gil, she was about to put the kibosh on his new job, too.

“I'm not sure,” she panted, “maybe my appendix…”

“It's not your appendix,” Eli said.

She squinted at him, and heaved a shuddering breath.

“She's really ill.” Dixon grabbed Eli's arm. “You need to get her to a hospital.”

“Dixon, she does this all the time…it's, uh, gas.”

The expression on Jen's face was priceless, if only Dixon had been watching. He was too busy glaring in the face of Eli's lack of sympathy for his girlfriend.

“If you won't take her to the hospital, I'll call an ambulance,” Dixon snapped.

Clearly he wasn't in any mood to go on discussing Eli's future. Quite the opposite—if Eli didn't start paying attention to his girlfriend's appendicitis, the offer of a ride with Fulcrum would likely evaporate.

“Okay, chickadee,” he said through gritted teeth. “We'll get you checked out. Though I'm certain it's your gas problem flaring up again.”

Jen's cheeks were pink with embarrassment and maybe the exertion of all that groaning she was doing. Eli was
irritated to find her blush attractive. He wrapped an arm around her, gripping her shoulder with a force that said,
you're in trouble, lady,
and escorted her outside.

 

“H
OW DARE YOU
!” He rounded on her as soon as he had her in the car with the doors locked.

Jen clipped her seat belt, her stomachache miraculously healed. “You were about to tell Dixon Rogers you want to drive for him.”

“Of course I was! He was offering me the job of my dreams…until you screwed it up,” he added bitterly.

“What about Gil?” Jen asked.

Eli
pffed
. “What about him?”

“He gave you your first Cup ride. He backed you when no one else would, like you told that reporter.”

“Were you there today when Gil said my job was hanging by a thread? When he told you to stay out of my business? How can you defend him?”

“I'm not defending him. Gil's acting like a jerk. That doesn't mean you don't owe him your loyalty.”

Eli clutched his head. “This is NASCAR, not the Boy Scouts. There's no code of honor or fidelity pledge.”

“I bet there is,” she retorted. “Besides, Gil cares about you. That's why you two are fighting.”

“Cares…are you kidding?” Eli jammed the key into the ignition. “NASCAR might run high on emotions, but it's not sentimental. I've had a good run at Double S, but nothing lasts forever.”

“Loyalty matters,” she said stubbornly. “Loyalty to more than yourself. Gil wants what's best for you, as well as the team. He wants you to get your act together. Far as I can see, not many other people in your life care that much.”

He flinched, but came back fighting. “Dixon cares about
my future. He thinks I'm a champion in the making. And those guys at Fulcrum have a great time.”

“That's important,” she said sarcastically.

Why on earth had he expected her to understand, when she couldn't even grasp something as simple as
It's over?

Eli started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. “A smart driver is always lining up the next move in his career, just like he is on the track.” He hesitated. “Just like he is with women.” He'd forgotten to check out the talent tonight, he had so much on his mind, but he wasn't about to admit that.

She drew in a sharp breath, but he refused to feel guilty.

“Tomorrow I'm going to call Dixon and accept that ride. You and I—” he jabbed a finger at her “—are finished.”

 

J
EN SPENT THE ENTIRE
flight home, and the limo journey Eli had arranged to the farm, dissecting her new relationship.

Her one-sided relationship.

Despite her brave declaration to Eli that she was his real girlfriend and she wasn't going anywhere, reiterated even as he shoved her through the departure gate with obvious delight that he was rid of her, it was getting harder to convince herself she could make this work.

Yet she was certain she saw a deep longing inside Eli for someone who wouldn't leave, who would stick by him no matter what.

I could be that woman.

It was way too soon to think like that, of course. They barely knew each other. But that didn't stop her mind racing ahead, painting scenarios that involved a wedding and babies.

Maybe he was right: she was nuts.

When she arrived at the farm, the front door opened
without its familiar squeak. The guy Eli hired to help Granddad must have oiled it. “I'm home,” she called.

“In the kitchen.” Her grandfather's voice was strangely flat.

Jennifer's heart sped up. “Granddad?” She ran down the hallway. “Are you okay?”

She found him sitting at the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him. The
National Echo.

She slowed her pace. “Since when do you buy that paper?”

He grunted. “Dennis Crane brought it over this morning. Thought I should see what a display my granddaughter is making of herself.” He crumpled the page. “It made me feel sick.”

“I—it can't be that bad.” She and Eli had been kissing, that's all.

Carlton shoved the newspaper across the table. Jennifer sank into a seat. Two photos, one of her and Eli kissing. Okay, so his hands were on her butt rather possessively, but that wasn't too shocking.

The other photo was the one the guy had taken after they'd sprung apart. Eli looked annoyed, but very much in control of himself. Jennifer looked…a wreck. Her dress was lopsided, her hair disheveled, her mouth agape as if her brain had fallen out during that kiss.

“You look like a floozy,” Carlton snapped.

“Anyone can take a bad photo,” she said, trying not to cry.

“Your grandmother and I didn't raise you to chase after NASCAR drivers.”

“He's a good man,” Jennifer protested, her loyalty to Eli surging despite her own doubts. “Look how he arranged for help for you.”

“Because he wants to get into your pants!” The crudeness
from a man who valued propriety shocked her. “Sweetheart, you don't watch NASCAR, so you don't know what I do about this guy,” her grandfather said, more gently. “He grew up moving from pillar to post, he dates a different woman every week, he has a job you have to be downright crazy to do, no matter how much I enjoy watching those races.”

She did know all that, and it didn't make any difference. Nor did it make a difference that the Internet search she'd carried out on his name had thrown up a dozen pictures of him kissing a dozen different women. Everyone had a past, so she couldn't hold that against him.

“Inside, he's a good man,” she said again. Yet that photo summed up their relationship perfectly. Eli detached, in control, confident. Her eager, floundering, desperate.

“He doesn't know
how
to be a good man—leastways, not good enough for you,” Carlton said. “I never thought you'd forget every blamed lesson you were ever taught.”

Lessons not to make the kind of poor choices her parents had. Choices that had taken them away from home and ultimately from her.

“I admit Eli might look…flighty.” She chose the word over more damning alternatives: unreliable, womanizing. “But every man settles down when he finds the right woman.”

Her grandfather snorted. Which saved Jennifer the trouble. Even she could hear how pathetic she sounded, making excuses for a twenty-eight-year-old man who might never grow up.