Full Throttle (18 page)

Her heart kept urging her to go full force, to give her love fully and take a chance again. But past hurts made her wary. And negative.

The phrase
doomed from the start
ran through her mind.

Yet she didn't know how to combat her feelings of dread. As a woman, she wanted so much from Kane—passion, undivided attention and commitment. As a car chief, she wanted those things, too. But he certainly couldn't give her and racing undivided attention. If he was dating someone else, she'd tell him to quit thinking about romance and focus on his job.

She was at war with what she wanted personally and what she knew was best for her team.

For nearly all her life, her family and her career had gone hand in hand, which was why she was just as much at odds with her father as she was with herself.

He was right. Dammit.

He hadn't been graceful about the delivery, but he was right.

“Give yourself a break,” James said, chucking her lightly under her chin. “You don't have to take on the responsibility for the entire team.”

Astonished, she stared at him. “Yes, I do. That's my job.”

“How about not for tonight? Ignore your father, have some fun and relax.”

“I can't relax. We have nine races left. The championship—”

“Will still be there in the morning.”

He took her hand and practically dragged her to the bar. “She'll have a martini.”

“No, she won't.”

The bartender, who didn't even look old enough to serve drinks, paused with a silver shaker in his hand and looked to James for direction.

“A cosmo?”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “Wine?”

“I guess.”

The bartender still looked hesitant, but finally set down the shaker and withdrew a wineglass from his cart. He poured the Chardonnay James selected.

“You could be less predictable,” James said to her.

“I will. Tomorrow, when it counts.”

 

“P
IT STOP IN EIGHT LAPS
,” Harry said through the headset in Kane's helmet. “We'll take a pound out of the rear.”

“That's too much,” Kane said, roaring into Turn Three of Dover's Monster Mile.

“And we'll take two out of the front,” Harry continued as if Kane hadn't spoken.

Kane ground his teeth. The tension from the night before had gotten worse during the race. Harry spoke to him in clipped, hostile tones and ignored his comments about the car. Despite his attitude, they had been in the top ten most of the day. Kane attributed the success to his ability to keep cool despite the poisonous surroundings.

But he'd been pushed back as far as he could go.

“
Half
out of the rear and
one
from the front,” Kane said, his voice tight with strain.

“One and two,” Harry countered.

Well aware anybody at the track with headphones, including the media, plus anybody with an Internet connection, could hear him, Kane tried to stay calm. “I don't want that big of an adjustment. I don't need it.”

“We didn't adjust enough when we were here in June. That's why we came in twentieth.”

“We don't need it.”

“You're getting it.”

Not the conversation to have at 130 miles an hour.

Kane shifted his grip on the steering wheel and did something some people wouldn't have thought possible a few years ago. He swallowed his pride and said nothing.

“Screw it,” Harry said. “I'm done.”

Then there was silence.

The silence dragged on, somehow drowning out the roar of the forty-three race car engines. Kane's heart pounded as if he was running around the track instead of driving around it.

Had his crew chief just dumped him in the middle of a race?

The next voice he heard was Lexie's.

“Kane, we've got three laps until the pit stop. We're taking half a pound out of the rear and one out of the front.”

The directions he'd given. Where was Harry? Why had he stopped talking?

“Harry?” he asked carefully, unsure what was happening.

“Ah…he stepped away for a moment. Didn't feel well.”

Several emotions rushed through Kane. Disappointment, anger, confusion, more anger.

“I'm here,” Lexie added.

She was calling this, in other words. On her own. Without Harry. He'd
stepped away
.

Given up.

Lexie's fears had come true. She was sure they wouldn't be supported. She'd been afraid their relationship would affect the team.

They weren't. It had.

He was furious on so many different levels, he didn't know which one to attack first.

They were without a crew chief. Temporarily or permanently?

Somehow, Lexie held it together. She kept the pit crew motivated and everybody else calm and controlled. They rolled along like nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. With the pressure they'd all been under, maybe they thought Harry really had gotten sick.

A delusional person should probably not be driving a race car, but buying into that fantasy was the only way Kane could keep his composure and concentrate on the race.

They finished ninth, and all Kane could think about as he drove into his pit stall was pulling Lexie into his arms. As he climbed out of the car, though, the tension and pressure were evident on her face. She was barely holding on.

He noticed Mike Streetson, whose pit was just a few stalls down, heading toward his hauler. “Hang on,” he said to Lexie, squeezing her elbow, then he jogged over to his friend.

“Mind if Lexie and I tag along for the ride home?” he asked, after congratulating Mike on his seventh-place finish.

“Yeah, sure. You in a hurry?”

“Uh, yeah.”

Streetson slid on his sunglasses and grinned, his white teeth standing out starkly against his deeply tanned face.

“Then you're in luck. Back here in fifteen?”

“We'll be here. Thanks, man.”

He hurried back to Lexie, feeling as though he'd cleanly taken another hurdle in a seemingly endless race. While Kane relied on the Hollister Racing plane to get him to races, Streetson owned a personal jet that either he or one of his pilots flew to every event—either sponsor promotion, interview or race. With a guaranteed finish in the top ten this year, Kane had earned a nice bonus and could suddenly see the reasoning behind such a large expense.

“Get your stuff,” he said to Lexie in a low voice when he returned to the pit. “We're going with Streetson.”

“I have to help load—”

“I bet your father is feeling better and can handle the loading.”

She crammed her hat farther down on her head. Her face was flushed with anger. “It's my job. I can't leave.”

Undeterred, Kane glanced around. The team was already breaking down the pit like a smooth ballet. They'd had a good race, but everyone was anxious to get home after a busy weekend. He finally spotted James, standing by the hauler doors. “James!”

James hurried over. “Nice race,” he said, toasting him with a water bottle.

“Thanks. Do you mind watching over things here? Lexie and I are going home with Streetson.”

With his sunglasses on, James's expression wasn't clear, but Kane knew his friend had caught on to the need for a quick exit without further explanation. “You bet. But I'm taking Monday off.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“This really isn't necessary,” Lexie said. “I'll handle the loading. You guys go with Mike.”

Kane snagged her hand and pulled her against his side. “You're coming with me.”

She dug in her heels, obviously about to argue.

“Please? For me?”

“You really think I'm that much of a sucker?”

“I hope so.”

She sagged against him. “You're right.”

“I'm going to shower and change,” he said, feeling his heart lighten for the first time in hours. “I'll be right back.”

“I need a shower, too, you know.”

“You'll have one.” He winked. “At my place.”

 

O
N THE FLIGHT HOME
, they shared a beer with Mike and didn't mention Harry once. Mike, as always, was full of great stories that distracted them from the race they'd just run and the crisis they'd have to face Monday morning.

When they reached Kane's house, he pulled her wordlessly into his arms. He didn't really want to deconstruct the day, though he doubted she'd let things be until morning. Still, simply grateful for her strength and presence, he absorbed her familiar feel and scent.

“Our team is falling apart,” she said as they stood in the foyer, the moonlight sliding through the front door's etched glass.

“No, it's not. We held it together.”

“For how long?”

“As long as it takes.”

“He'll probably resign in the morning.”

“Then we'll figure out a way to win without him.”

“We can't. I—” Her voice hitched. “
I
can't.”

He cupped her face and stared intently into her eyes. “I won't let you give up on this team. Or us.”

She closed her eyes. “I'm just so tired.”

“Come on.” He held her hand and led her up the stairs. “I'll start a bath for you, then you can get some sleep.”

He felt incredible satisfaction from taking care of her. She, who always thought of everyone else's needs but her own, let him take the lead and let him coddle her. It was a building block to having her trust him again, to believe in their relationship again. He was determined, somehow, to hold the scattered pieces of his world together.

And the next morning, wearing only his T-shirt as she stood in front of his stove, making a mess of a ham and cheese omelet, he finally coaxed a genuine smile from her face when he told her she might know about race cars, but she definitely needed some pointers with a skillet.

The bliss lasted right up until the moment the doorbell rang.

“K
ANE
? Y
OU UP
,
SON
?”

Poised with a spatula over an omelet, Lexie froze at the sound of Anton Jackson's voice echoing down the hall.

“He has a key?” she whispered incredulously to Kane, her heart leaping to her throat.

“My mom likes to bring casseroles to put in my freezer.”

She glanced down at her T-shirt and bare legs. Talk about awkward.

“Kane!”

“In the kitchen, Dad! It's fine,” he added to her in a quiet voice. “We're adults, remember?”

Funny, but she didn't feel like an adult. She felt like a teenager caught necking the backseat of her dad's car.

“I smell breakfast,” Anton said, then ground to a halt when he reached the kitchen and caught sight of her.
“Lexie?”

She smiled weakly. “Want an omelet?” There'd be plenty, since she felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“I—” Anton shook his head. His gaze darted to his son. “How long has this been going on?”

None of your business
was the answer that came to Lexie's mind, but she said nothing.

“A couple of weeks,” Kane said.

Anton's expression turned from shocked to thoughtful, bordering on calculating. “Who else knows?”

Kane shrugged.

“Who
else?
”

Lexie's embarrassment was fast giving way to anger. Anton had no right to barge into Kane's house and demand answers about his personal life. But then it wasn't her house or her father. She'd backed down and burst into tears when her own dad had questioned the wisdom of her dating Kane. Maybe they could switch parents. Kane could take her dad, and she could take Anton.

In fact, she'd like that immensely. She'd take great pleasure in taking Mr. Hall of Fame down a notch or two.

“A few close friends,” Kane said. “But I'm sure it'll be common knowledge soon. We're not hiding.”

Anton dropped his head and sighed. “You can't go out with a member of your crew,” he said, as if this was obvious.

Which it was, as Lexie had often pointed out. Though neither she nor Kane had listened.

Kane crossed his arms over his chest. “I can. I am.”

“The marketing people at Sonomic won't stand for it, and what do you think Bob Hollister is going to say?”

“They can't tell me how to live my personal life.”

“Sure they can. They pay the bills.”

Lexie knew Kane was on the edge of losing it, and she could hardly blame him. Being confronted with the truth was hard, and she was getting a strange sense of déjà vu.

“They don't run my life,” Kane said, his tone growing harder, the muscles in his jaw jumping.

“It's bad for PR.”

“I don't care. I'm not you.”

“I don't expect you to be me,” Anton said, his eyes growing frosty. It was clear he didn't appreciate his son's belligerent attitude.

Many times Lexie had wished Kane would tell his father off, or at least to mind his own business, but now that the confrontation was happening—and she was the cause—she felt lousy and selfish.

“I expect you to have respect for your career and for your team,” Anton continued. “You don't need this distraction now.”

The smoke alarm shrieked through the room, and Lexie rushed to the stove to deal with the now-crispy omelet. Her heart pounded as Kane and his father continued to argue behind her.

She'd been so busy worrying about the team, she hadn't even
considered
Bob Hollister discussing her love life with his staff, other executives, sponsors and heaven only knew who else.

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She'd worked so hard to be taken seriously, to always be professional, to excel in a male-dominated world. Was she risking all of that? Had she really expected
this
much drama over her and Kane?

“Come on, Kane,” Anton said, breaking into her thoughts. “You know how racing works. Your reputation is everything. You're the center of a multimillion-dollar ad campaign. Everything you do affects that—what you say and how you say it, your personality, your lifestyle.”

“Who I date shouldn't matter.”

“It does.” Anton cast her a look she might think was actual regret from anybody else. “I'm sorry, but it does.”

The déjà vu grew stronger. She recalled the party in the suite during the NASCAR Busch race, when she'd realized that though she was angry at her father, he was right.

Anton was right. Both of them were right.

And Lexie was light-headed.

“I don't appreciate your interference,” Kane said.

“You've always welcomed my advice before.”

“You always give it. You don't ask if I want it.”

“I'm your father. It's my job to guide you.”

By now the two men were just inches apart. Dark and light. Older and younger. Scruffy and polished. Their expressions of rage were the only things that matched.

“I'm not you! I'm never going to be you.”

“I've never asked you to be.”

“You expect me to do what you'd do. You always have. You've never supported my racing.”

Anton took a startled step backward. “That's not true. I never stood in your way—even though you only started racing to defy me, so you wouldn't have to play football.”

“I was terrible at football.”

“You could have been great! If you'd given it a chance, if you'd tried harder.”

“I tried! But I hated it, I hated every single minute of being compared to you, knowing I'd never,
ever
measure up.”

“I can't control what other people said,” he whispered. “I always encouraged you to do the best
you
could do.”

“My best wasn't good enough. You know it wasn't.”

Anton cupped the back of his neck, as if trying to rub away the tension of the increasingly confrontational discussion. “Is that what dating a teammate is all about—defying me? Doing something I would never consider?”

Lexie felt the blood drain from her face.

Kane paused in answering just long enough that the idea grew in Lexie's mind, spreading like poison. Was Kane using her to get back at his father? Did he really want her at all?

“Don't be ridiculous,” Kane said.

Maybe he wasn't doing it consciously. But on some level Lexie knew it was true.

She'd never believed she and Kane would last, so why was she surprised? Why was her heart pounding and her stomach hollow?

“Lexie?”

She blinked and focused on Anton, who had seated himself at the bar running the width of the kitchen.

“You haven't said anything,” he said to her. “Aren't you concerned how you and Kane will affect the team?”

Kane watched her but said nothing. He already knew she was worried. But while she agreed with Anton, there was no way she was siding with him in front of Kane and humiliating the man she loved.

“We've done pretty well the last two weeks,” she said.

“Will it last?”

Considering they had already cost the team the best crew chief in NASCAR, she didn't see how. And she decided she liked Anton Jackson even less when he
was
right, instead of just always acting like he was right. “This isn't a conversation I want to have wearing only a T-shirt. I'm going to change.”

Kane grabbed her arm as she strode from the room. “I've never seen you run from a fight,” he said quietly.

She couldn't look him in the eye when she said, “Then this is a first, isn't it?”

In Kane's bedroom, she stripped off her T-shirt and rushed toward the bathroom, bypassing the rumpled bed and fighting not to think about the intimacy and affection between her and Kane that she'd become used to so quickly.

She snagged her clothes from the bathroom floor, put them on, then stuffed everything else in her overnight bag. Her throat was tight, but she refused to give in to the threatening tears. She was a professional, and it was high time she started acting like one.

Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the stairs. At the top, she paused, noticing Kane standing at the bottom. She continued more slowly, her pulse pounding, her mind racing.

Kane was still pissed, and now she'd certainly been added to the list.

“Where's your dad?”

“Gone.”

“I'm leaving, too.” She paused and drew a bracing breath. “I'm not coming back.”

“You agree with my father.”

“Yes.” And she was checking the weather report as soon as she got home, just to make sure hell hadn't frozen over. She was aligning herself with, if not the enemy, then certainly one of the few people she'd never understood.

“You're serious.”

“We've worked too hard and too long for this championship to let it slip away now. If I leave, my dad will come back to the team, and you and your dad won't have anything to argue about.”

He laughed, but he wasn't happy by any means. “My father and I have plenty to argue about.”

“Maybe so, but I won't stand in the middle.”

“You're really going to let them manipulate us like this?”

“I'm not being manipulated. I'm doing what's right.”

“For the team.”

“And for us.” Standing one step above him, she prayed her hand would be steady as she laid it on the side of his face. “If we lost, we'd never forgive ourselves, or each other.”

He stepped back, his rejection of her touch unmistakable. “So we're just going to break up every time we face a problem?”

“No, but this season is important.”

“
Every
season is important.”

“We're losing our crew chief over this!”

“This little thing. This
unimportant
thing. Funny, I thought our relationship meant more than that. I thought it was worth fighting for.”

Was it? She wanted Kane, but she always felt as if he was just beyond her fingertips. “Are you sure you really want to be with me? Or did you just enjoy standing up to your father?”

“My father has nothing to do with us, beyond the fact that he's trying to stand between us and get his way. As usual.”

“And you enjoy defying him.”

“I'm just tired of him telling me what to do. He expects me to be someone I'm not, to be a PR darling, to pretend I'm not angry when I am, to be sorry I'm not the man he wants me to be.”

And she wasn't the woman he wanted for his son. Whether Kane acknowledged it to her or himself that made a difference. There was a level of rebellion in his pursuit of her.

Besides, there was a vital element missing in their relationship.

“Do you love me, Kane?”

“I—” He turned away. “I'm not sure. I care about you. I want to be with you, and how do you know,
really
know about love?”

She knew, and at least now she also knew she was doing the right thing. She couldn't let him break her heart again. By her making the decision to end it, she could blame herself later instead of him. She could move on.

“We have a team meeting tomorrow at ten,” she said as she moved past him.

“That's it? Business as usual?”

At the door she turned, forcing her face into a calm expression that was completely at odds with her emotions. “That's what racers do.” And now what else did she have?

“I can't believe you're doing this,” he said, stalking toward her. “You're giving up.”

“I can't ask the team to sacrifice for me.”

“Or me.”

“For you, yes. For us, no. This is for the best, Kane. You know it is.”

He grabbed her hand. “Lexie—”

She squeezed his hand, then stepped back. She couldn't touch him anymore and had to find some distance, or she wouldn't be able to function around him. “I'll always be here for you. But I just can't—” Her voice cracked. “I have to go.”

He snagged her hand again and pulled her against him. She braced her palms on his chest, then jerked them back just as quickly. She couldn't stand this close to him, breathe his familiar scent, feel the heat of his body, and still do what she had to.

Being noble sucked big-time.

“Do you love me?”

She stopped breathing. She literally had to order her body to produce air.