Slide Job (Cameron Motorsports) (5 page)

“We need to make a slight adjustment to your suit.” He reached for the zipper on her jacket, pulling it down just a little more, to reveal a hint of cleavage. “You should use every tool at your disposal, don’t you think?” He smiled at her, his eyes filled with affectionate laughter, simply coaching a student in ways of the theatre.

She couldn’t think with him that close. The warm smell of cinnamon teased her nose, inviting her to take a bite. She lifted her brown eyes to his, blocked from the room’s view by his height. He stared down at her intently, reaching out again to brush invisible lint off her jacket, caressing her shoulder softly at the same time. The heat from his hand was electric. It fired all her senses to life.

“Places, everyone.” Steve’s voice jerked her back to reality.

Tyler turned abruptly and took his place, back behind the cameraman, seemingly unaware of his effect on her.

The urge to touch him paramount, Morgan imagined herself stroking her hand over his chest. Instead, she ran her hand along the roofline of the red Dodge Viper, sitting as a prop behind her. Fingers splayed, sliding silkily, drawn slowly back towards her body. She turned to the camera and let the heat wash over her, wave after wave. She purred. “I use synthetic motor oil in my car. Shouldn’t you?”

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Jim O’Bannon pointed his finger at Morgan. “She can’t do that.” He scowled at her, his face a cold mask, vicious in its intensity. Pacing angrily, he demanded recognition that never came.

Butch and Lacey, along with Steve and Tyler, looked at each other, grinned, and said in unison, “Do what?”

Lacey murmured in a low voice, just loud enough for Morgan to hear. “She could sell anything with that look. Unless the judges are deaf and blind, we’ve got our winner for this round.”

Butch agreed. “Honey, she reminds me of you, in your modeling days, only shorter. That girl just oozes sex and she doesn’t even know it.”

Kyle Spencer from Davenport, Iowa, was up next. Morgan watched from the sidelines while he gave the camera his best Midwestern farm boy grin, and nailed his lines on the first try.

Bobby Harms, live from Austin, Texas, made her smile with his kidding around. She thought he didn’t do a half-bad job with the commercial either.

George Macon, out of Pahrump, Nevada—a terrific racer but terribly shy—couldn’t remember his lines and couldn’t bring himself to look at anything but his own shoes.

He looked so forlorn, Morgan couldn’t help herself. Without thinking, she stepped into camera range. “It’ll be okay, George. Do you want me to help you out? I’d be happy to practice with you a few moments. Let’s get some coffee.”

“Cut!” Steve’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp as a knife. “Take five, everybody.”

Morgan jumped at the sound of his voice, and realized what she’d done. She smiled guiltily at Steve. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He just smiled back at her and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s past break time anyway.”

After the break, everyone took their places again. George looked at Morgan, and she gave him an encouraging grin. “Go for it, George. You can do it. Just focus, like we talked about.”

When he was finished, she smiled at Tyler. “He did a much better job this time.”

“Do you always help out your competition?” he queried, one brow raised.

Without thinking, she answered, “Of course. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, isn’t it?”

His eyes narrowed w
nnww
hen she glanced at him. He looked at his watch. “I have to get to a sponsor meeting and meet with the judges. I’ll try to catch up to you later. You did a great job today.”

“Thanks.” She stared after him, open-mouthed, and watched him walk away from her. Again. She found it hard to believe he hadn’t criticized her for using sex appeal in her ad, or brought up the roadside fiasco. She had a feeling this man was a whole different animal than any she’d met before.

Eight hours later, after the remaining contestants finished their takes, they boarded the sleek, white jet with the green and red Cameron Motorsports logo painted on the tail. It was a red fighting lion surrounded by a bold green, cursive
CM
.

The flight attendant brought flutes of champagne, and they all celebrated her winning the second round. Poor George had been eliminated anyway. The rest of the guys had just been better spokesmen for the product.

She’d spent the better part of an hour going through Butch’s racing museum, hoping to run into Tyler again. While waiting and watching for him, she spent some quality time reviewing the history and the legacy of Butch Cameron. What incredible accomplishments the man had made in his lifetime.

She smoothed her hand over the butter-soft tan armrest and leaned back in the seat, fully appreciating being cradled in luxury. Her eyes roamed the cabin, the supple leather couches, deep-pile mushroom-colored carpeting, curly maple cabinets, and matching side tables.

It was as if a light came on. Finally, she understood what her father had been trying to tell her before she left, about opportunities.

She thought back over the highlights of her life. Winning racing championships, what she thought had been love for Josh, the overwhelming maternal feelings she’d had for Lily.

Her dad had told her over and over again, she was a winner. She’d won today. She’d beaten those considered the best of the best. Maybe she
was
a winner.

Why then, did she feel like such a loser? Deep inside the well, that silent place, self-image quivered, curled in the fetal position. It barely raised its fearful head. She knew why, although she was loath to admit it, even in thought. It was because of Josh and Lily. She’d gambled and lost at what she felt was most important.

Family.

None of those things had prepared her for this, or maybe each had honed her. Beating at her and working on her, molding her, in preparation. Sitting up straighter in her seat, Morgan smoothed the crease in her pants with nervous fingers. She leaned her head back against the headrest and turned to look out the window. Cerulean blue sky stretched to the horizon and made her feel suspended above the ruffled clouds below.

These people lived an entirely different existence—one her family could never imagine. These people lived life at high speed, always on the edge of terminal velocity. Seeing it on television was one thing; seeing it for real was astounding.

Morgan’s heart beat a little faster as a spark of hope flared hot. Did she dare dream she could be a part of it?

Chapter 6

Upended pink sneakers trailed across the hotel suite’s bedroom floor. Socks with ballerina lace, followed by pink shorts, a flowered white and pink tank top and long, lazy hair ribbons led the way up the spread, to dance at Annie’s bedside.

He watched her put her stuffed, sleeping tabby cat, an exact replica of the live one at home, upon her pillow. She lay back and folded her hands around her toy.

“’Night, Daddy, ’night, Stephanie, ’night, Kitty.”

Serious blue eyes, identical to his, blinked heavily at him, struggled to stay open, and finally relinquished the battle, captured by sleep.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” Hair soft as eiderdown curled around his fingers as he stroked her head. She was growing so fast, his little angel. He reached down to place a kiss on her forehead. Her skin felt cool to his lips. Kindergarten was swiftly approaching, and he wasn’t ready.

The door closed silently with the snick of the latch. Carpet swallowed his footsteps as he made his way to the living room suite, where his younger sister waited. She sat silently, sipping a glass of white wine.

“Thanks so much for bringing her here, Steph. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She brushed off his gratitude with a wave of her hand. “It’s no problem, really. Besides, I wanted to see what your show’s about this time. I saw the commercials for it. Mom recorded them along with her soaps. Dirt tracks or something? Race cars? I have no idea, but it sounds…interesting.”

“Interesting.” Morgan’s smiling face appeared in his mind’s eye, grinning up at him like she had in at the screen test in Charlotte. “Yeah, I guess interesting is a good word for it.” He smiled at the thought of her. Like a specter, she haunted him.

He wondered what Stephanie would think of Morgan. She was so unlike any of the women he’d known. Her job was so…odd. However, mentioning her would be like setting bloodhounds on the scent. He could hear it now. Stephanie would call up Patty and Jessica for reinforcement, and his sisters would be relentless if he showed the slightest interest. He wanted to be free to make his own choices, not have some woman served up on a platter because they all thought she’d make a good mother for Annie. Funny, they never seemed to think about what he might want in a wife.

He grimaced, and Stephanie raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.

Ouch! Did he really think that word?

After Cindy, he didn’t think he would be marrying again any time soon. He’d have to be more cautious about picking the next person who shared his and Annie’s lives. Life was too short, and his daughter too precious, to spend it in the clutches of drug dependency, so horribly miserable. That was a mistake he didn’t want to repeat with the next woman.

“Is she still having nightmares?” He paced around the room, full of restless energy. Wandering over to the tiny mini-bar, he poured wine into a tumbler and turned to stare out the window. Bleak lights stared back at him. A train whistle played its solemn notes over the rooftops of the dark Nebraska night.

“The last few have been about one every other evening. We spent Monday night at Patty’s, so Sarah and Kate wore her out. She slept all through that night. She seems to be getting better, Tyler.”

Delayed Stress Disorder. That’s what the psychologist called it. Mind-blowing. That’s what he called it. He’d thought she’d be too young to remember. Consciously she didn’t remember. Her psyche came alive at night. What was he supposed to do when his little girl woke up screaming for her mommy in abject terror?

“She’ll be okay. Mom says it takes time. We’ll all take care of her. Somehow, it’ll work out.” Stephanie set her glass down on the side table and got up from her seat on the sofa. “Softie that you are, I know you can’t stand to see her suffer.” She hugged him. “I’m going to bed too, since we have to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow.”

Once again, he tamped down the helpless rage he felt toward his ex-wife, struggled to let it go. Nothing he could do about it now. She’d abandoned Annie, left her strapped in her booster seat by herself at home all day. The memories nearly choked him. He still thanked God he’d been in town and not somewhere on the road.

He’d come home from work to find Annie still strapped in, soiled, red-faced and screaming at two and half years old. The only blessing was that Cindy never came back. The court battle had been worth it. Annie was his now, and Cindy couldn’t hurt her anymore.

“I know Mom’s right. I just get impatient. Get some sleep. See you in the morning.”

His mother told him, you couldn’t fix someone if they didn’t want to be fixed.

His thoughts strayed to his mom, the doctor. If she knew how worried he was about Annie, she’d be canceling her cardiac patients and on the next plane. Nothing went too far for her grandchildren, all five of them. Thank goodness his sisters were popping them out consistently. It did take a bit of the pressure off him.

No wonder his sisters were such warm, loving women. What an example she set for her own kids. His sisters drove him nuts sometimes, but he had enough experience now to appreciate them.

Stephanie walked out, leaving him restless and alone with his thoughts.

*

The car was up on jack stands, like many of the others sitting behind their haulers in the pits. Parked in rows on the back side of the track, they made their own dirt street down the middle, leading directly to the track at both ends. The grandstands were on the far side.

Midday, it was calm here. The sun wavered, intense in the late summer sky. The main gates wouldn’t open to the public for another couple hours. Only those with business here, and racers from out of town filled the area, preparing for tonight’s show.

Underneath the car, Morgan finished up the nut and bolt check, something she preferred to do herself before every race, and breathed a sigh of relief. One more task over and done with, thank goodness.

She dropped the wrenches and turned her head, ready to crawl out, when a pair of pink, child-size sneakers appeared at the side of the car, one shoelace untied. Hair appeared next, curls of sunny blonde dropping between the feet, as if from thin air, to tickle the ground beside her head. Curious blue eyes blinked at her sideways.

“Whacha doin’ unner dere?” A fairy’s voice giggled at her through grinning lips.

Caught unaware, Morgan’s heartbeat galloped away, leaving her breath behind.
Lily?
No. Lily had dark hair. No. Lily was gone. She inhaled, willing her lungs to do their job, easing the tightness in her chest.

Someone else’s kid running amok. That’s all. No need to freak out.
Take it easy. Just get out from under the car and walk away. She’s little, you can ignore her. Sign an autograph for her mom or dad, and disappear. Easy. Remember, be nice. You never know who her parents are.

Morgan rolled sideways, got to her knees and faced the youngster. “Your shoe’s untied.”

She scanned the immediate area and didn’t see an adult close by. Where the heck were her parents? Kids weren’t supposed to be running loose back here.

“Can you tie it?” The girl stuck out her foot, pointing her toe ballerina style, in Morgan’s direction. “I can’t. Not yet.”

Aw, hell.

She heard the rumble and roar of sprint cars rolling down the lane toward the track entrance. It must be time for practice. Used to the sound, she ignored it and reached for the shoelace. She tied it, making a tight bow and double knot. “There you go, kid.”

The child looked to be about five or six, the same age Lily would have been, if she’d been allowed to stay around and have birthdays.

“Where’s your mommy?” Morgan was getting concerned now. This really wasn’t safe, and she had work to do.

Blue eyes regarded her intently, all traces of the smile turned to dust. “I don’t have a mommy,” she replied seriously.

Uh-huh. Way to go, Blade.

“I got Daddy, and S-s-Stephanie and Aunt Patty.” The kid looked down at herself. Her gaze roamed over her clothes, and she glanced around. Her little hands worked themselves into the pockets on her shirt and felt inside. “Nope, no mommy.”

Speechless, her heart in a vice, Morgan rose to her feet. Did fate send this little girl to torture her? Hadn’t she been tormented enough?

There were still no parents in sight. Turning, she saw Tyler walking her way from the grandstand area with a tall, slim blonde. He leaned over to say something close to the blonde’s ear, and smiled.

Must be the girlfriend, Morgan thought irritably, noting the woman’s mile-long legs, ensconced in slim black pants. Jeez, he couldn’t even work without hooking up?

What was up with her? Morgan remembered he had a girlfriend from the phone call. He probably had them lined up around the block, if they all felt the same way she did every time he got close to her.

A rising cloud of dust captured her attention. The frantic gunning of the motor signaled a car in trouble. The yellow thirty-nine of Eric Wilson came flying off the track, headed down the road in her direction. His rig was parked three stalls past hers. She looked over to see his crew scrambling, grabbing blocks and clearing the area. As he drew closer, coming in hot like sprint cars do, the engine shut off. Something was very wrong.

“Stephanie!” The little girl squealed in delight and ran across the road toward Tyler and the blonde. Something caught her eye and she stopped. She bent over, picked it up, waved her arms over her head and giggled. “Look.” She held a shiny bolt in her hand, doing a happy dance, kicking dirt around. Blissfully unaware, she stood directly in the path of the oncoming car.

Time slowed, hung suspended as it always does in the face of disaster. Just long enough for discovery, and then it transfers to warp speed, immediately.

The blonde looked up at the sound of the little girl’s voice. She broke into a run, screaming at the car. “Stop!” Frantically, “Stop!”

Waving his arm back and forth like an eraser, the driver motioned wildly. The car didn’t slow. Experience cramped Morgan’s stomach, made her insides recoil. Every driver’s nightmare sprung to life.

The child stood mesmerized, unable to move, staring at the big, shiny yellow car swooping down on her.

Morgan could see Tyler running, his long legs propelling him forward past the
blonde, headed right for the little girl. Desperation slashed across his face as he reached out. He wasn’t close enough. He’d never make it.

“No brakes, he’s got no brakes!” Morgan screamed.

She knew what it felt like. Helpless. For all the power, powerless. Out of control. Nothing more than a passenger in the hands of fate. It would devastate Eric to hit any pedestrian, especially a child.

A memory of Lily’s small lifeless body lying on a cold slab flashed into her head. Not again.

She leapt.

She grabbed the little girl around the waist, jerking her off her feet. Over-balanced, momentum and the extra weight of the child carried her forward out of the path of the car.

Air swooshed by her feet as she hit the ground.

Hard.

She rolled.

Instinctively, she cradled the child in her arms, protecting her head, wrapping the small body with her own. She held the little bundle tightly, eyes closed, breathing in dust and the cotton candy smell of tiny female. Her heart felt right, holding this child. While at the same time her fearful mind screamed,
No!

Tyler reached them first. He grabbed her shoulders and lifted them both off the ground. He dropped Morgan to her feet, his face a swathe of terror.

“Annie, my Annie.” He snatched the kid away from Morgan, frantically feeling her head, checking her arms and legs. “Are you all right, pumpkin?”

His eyes met hers, over the child’s head. The anguish she saw in them stunned her. Annie? Wait a minute. That was the name on his cell phone, that day on the side of the road.

A few of the other drivers and crewmembers stepped forward. They’d probably watched the incident unfold. She’d guess they wanted to be sure trouble was kept to a minimum, so it didn’t interfere with their own racing.

Deciding everything appeared to be under control, they went back to their own work, simply casting surreptitious glances in their direction.

Tyler’s hand stretched out, touching Morgan’s cheek, brushing dirt away tenderly. “My God, would he really have hit her?” His eyes widened, his jaw tightened, he looked incredulous.

“Not if he could help it. These cars are different from most, in that they’re direct drive. There’s no clutch, it’s either on or off. Stop or go. In his case, he’d turned it off. He just didn’t have any brakes to stop it.” She frowned up at him, “You know, they
are
race cars, they don’t come equipped with emergency brakes.”

Conversation cut off as the woman reached them, crying, hysterical and angry at the same time.

“Why didn’t he stop? I was screaming at him. He should’ve stopped. Frickin’ idiot, he shouldn’t be allowed to drive.” She rounded on Morgan. “Where’s the owner of this facility?”

Full of adrenaline, it didn’t take much for fear to burst into flaming temper. Morgan pushed the woman backward with an open hand to her chest. “Now, you listen here, b—” She bit off the word before it got completely out of her mouth.