On the Move (19 page)

Vicky almost laughed. “You could say that,” she said. And then she did laugh. Why the hell not? After what had just happened with his father. After everything they’d gone through in the previous weeks. To brush it all off and put his car on the pole…

“He deserves this,” she said, her eyes misting up all over again. “He really, really deserves this.”

“Do you know him?” the younger guy asked.

“Yeah,” she said. And then she lifted her head. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Was it juvenile to wonder such a thing? But that’s exactly what he felt as he pulled into the postqualifying tech inspection line.

“Great job,” Chad said, letting down the window net. “I can’t believe you’ve got the pole.”

Brandon slid his helmet through the mishmash of metal bars that made up his roll cage, setting it down on the sheet metal that covered the area where a passenger would sit. “Yeah, but there’s still a lot of cars left to go.”

“Give me a break,” Chad said, helping him out. “No one’s left to qualify who’s worth a damn. You’ve got it, buddy. No doubt about it.”

Vicky wasn’t around, Brandon noticed. Then again, he thought, she probably didn’t realize his car wasn’t allowed back in the garage—not until NASCAR had a look at it.

“Thanks for giving me a great car,” he said, turning his attention back to Chad.

“You’re welcome,” his crew chief said, clapping him on the back. “Now, if we could just do as well on race day.”

“I’m going to try.”

Brandon waved at the crew members who’d arrived to help push his car through the tech line, a process that’d take a good half hour. Someone tried to flag him down as he headed back to his hauler, but Brandon staved them off with a hand. Not now. He wanted to get back to his hauler.

But Vicky wasn’t there.

“Hey, rookie,” someone said.

Brandon turned. Todd Peters walked up to him, a wide smile on his face. “Last time I give you tips on how to run this track.”

Brandon took the hand Todd extended, shaking it and clapping his teammate on the back. “Thanks,” he said, but the whole time his eyes scanned the garage. Was Vicky inside? Maybe waiting for him in the lounge. “Now, if I could only get NASCAR to approve you being my copilot on race day, we’d be all set.”

“Hah. Like I said, I’m done helping you. I’ve got a feeling you’re about to give me a run for my money.”

Brandon chuckled a bit, an emotion coursing through him that took him a moment to identify.

Happiness.

“Hey, I’ll catch you later,” he said to Todd because once he had Vicky in his arms, he’d be even happier.

Suddenly he saw her.

She was dashing toward him from the far side of the garage. She spotted him and stopped. Brandon stood there, people giving him curious looks as he simply waited—for what, he didn’t know. All he knew was he was helpless to look away.

She moved toward him again, more slowly this time, and with every step she took, something melted inside.

“You did it,” she said.

He didn’t move, the realization that’d hit him earlier—the knowledge that he loved her—made him suddenly awkward.

“I did it,” he said, his arm tensing, almost lifting, only to fall back to his side.

She seemed nervous, too, glanced around as if half-worried they might get run over standing there in the middle of the road. “I, ah. I was watching from outside.”

“Outside?”

“In the infield.”

“What were you doing out there?”

She held his gaze, and Brandon knew something had changed. “I couldn’t stand still,” she said. “I was up on top of your hauler half-afraid I’d pass out from nervousness so I went walking. Met up with some race fans who overlooked the fact that I was Brandon Burke’s girlfriend while I watched you run your laps.”

“What did you say?”

“I went walking.”

“Not that,” he said softly.

She stared up at him with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. “I told them I was your girlfriend.”

“Vicky.” He started to pull her into his arms.

She stepped back before he could do much more than lift his hands. “No, Brandon. Not here. There needs to be some ground rules. I don’t want everyone to know we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. I’m afraid of giving people the impression that I—you know—that I sleep around. And I’m not going to travel with you to every race. I can’t do that. I have a job, one that I have a feeling is going to take me away from North Carolina pretty soon what with you winning poles and all. Scott will realize soon that he doesn’t need me here. He’ll think my work is done.”

She gave him a proud smile and, damn it, he wanted to hug her.

“I want to give this…thing time…whatever this is between us. I’m not going to rush into anything.”

“Okay. I understand.”

“Are you sure? Because I have a feeling this won’t be easy. Once I acquire more new clients, I’ll be jetting around the country, too. There might be weeks when we don’t see each other.”

Why did he feel as if he were in the middle of a business negotiation?

“My job is important to me,” she added. “I’ve worked hard to get to this point and I’m not the type of woman to—”

“Shut up,” he said, grabbing her by the arms.

“What did you say?”

“I said shut up,” he repeated with a smile. “To hell with your damn rules. We’ll just take it one day at a time.”

“Brandon—”

He kissed the words off her lips. Whatever she’d been about to say—probably more damn rules—she must have forgotten. He knew how she felt. He forgot everything when their lips connected, too.

“Eeeyow,” someone yelled.

Vicky pulled back. “Hey,” she cried, her eyes wide and full of outrage. “I told you. No kissing me in the garage.”

“And you should know by now, I’ve never been good at listening.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Funny,” he said, taking her hand. “I’m not scared at all.”

“Your place or mine?” he asked after they’d landed.

“Mine,” she said. She lived closer, her apartment just north of town.

He drove the darkened North Carolina streets. It was well after midnight, their trip back home having gotten off to a late start thanks to the two KEM teams who’d had to pack everything onto the haulers before they could leave, a process that’d taken well over an hour. Then there’d been traffic. Then the five-hour flight home. And yet, through it all, Vicky had felt giddy, maybe even a little drunk. She should be exhausted and so should Brandon. He’d actually driven in a race that day, something that many people considered nonphysical, but that actually took a lot of strength and stamina. When he’d gotten out of his car he’d been hot and sweaty in a way that brought to mind smoky, passionate kisses….

She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked, the lights from the dash casting an iridescent glow over his face.

No.
On fire.
“I’m fine,” she said.

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew what was on her mind. It was on his mind, too. There was an electrical hum in the air, the kind that preceded chaotic weather and that made her fidget and wiggle and made the hair on her arms stand on end.

They couldn’t get to her apartment fast enough. Her single-story apartment was dark. It was actually an old blue house converted into two units, one with gingerbread windows and a low-pitched roof. Just to the right of the driveway, a single lamppost oozed milky light onto the cement walkway. More light leaked out from one of the windows of her apartment. She had the unit on the left and Vicky’s hands shook as she unlocked the front door.

The door swung open.

“Victoria,” someone said from inside.

Vicky dropped her keys.

“Well, I must say,” the same voice said. “It’s about time.”

“Mom,”
Vicky cried. “What are
you
doing here?”

Her mother stood up from her seat on the couch. “I’ve come to bring you home,” she said.

“No,” Vicky cried, momentarily at a loss for words.

From behind her, Brandon cleared his throat. Vicky half turned. “Um, Mom. This is my friend, Brandon.”

Her mother gave Brandon a slow once-over, and the expression on her face was one of thinly veiled animosity. She didn’t even bother to hold out her hand, just eyed him up and down. She knew Brandon was more than a “friend.” Why else would a man be at her doorstep at such a late hour? But her mother didn’t have to be so rude. Vicky felt her cheeks burn even more.

“How’d you get in here?” she asked, closing the door behind them both.

“A man let me in. I believe he owns this hovel you call home.”

“How’d you convince him to do that?”

“I told him I was your mother. And that I was here to deliver some unfortunate news.”

“And he believed you?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

Why wouldn’t he, indeed? Elaina VanCleef had an air about her that commanded respect. Not only was she strikingly beautiful with her sleek black hair and stunningly big blue eyes, but she knew how to dress to impress. Today, if Vicky didn’t miss her guess, she wore an Armani suit, Dolce & Gabbana shoes and enough jewelry to sink the
Titanic
. Her landlord probably figured Elaina couldn’t possibly steal anything more valuable than the stuff around her neck.

“Mom, seriously,” Vicky said. “You didn’t come all the way down here just to bring me home, did you?”

“I met your boss, Scott, the other day,” she said, her earrings catching the light and sparking like miniature stars. “I was
not
impressed. You should be grateful your father wasn’t with me.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Working. But I told him all about your boss and where you live,” Elaina said with a look around her, her upper lip all but curling. “I told him I’m taking you back to New York in the morning.”

“I’m not going,” Vicky said. “I’m staying right here.”

“Why?” her mother said.

“Mom, please…can’t we discuss this later?”
When we’re alone and Brandon isn’t listening to every word?
Damn it. Why did Elaina always have to humiliate her like this?

“We gave you a first-class education, Victoria,” Elaina said, ignoring her question. “You were top of your class. Your father and I thought this whole ‘I want to be an agent’ thing would pass. Only it hasn’t, and my—
our
—patience is at end. You can take one of the family apartments. Your father has an opening at the firm. You don’t have to start right away. You can begin in a week or so…or even a month. Take some time off. But give this—” she motioned around the room “—up.”

Was it Vicky’s imagination or had her mother’s gaze settled on Brandon?

“I’m not giving anything up,” Vicky said. “I’ve told you two at least a million times before. I’m sorry you don’t like my job, but
I
do.” She glanced at Brandon, tried to apologize with her eyes. “I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving
any
of it.”

“Then we’ll cut you off. The trust fund, your inheritance. You won’t receive a dime of it.”

Vicky felt the breath leave her. She should have expected this move. No wonder her father had elected to stay behind. He’d always hated confrontations. Even in his law practice, he’d always left the litigating to the attorneys he’d hired.

“If that’s what you feel you need to do.”

“We don’t want to do it, Victoria,” Elaina cried. “But it’s for your own good.”

“And you know I’ve never touched a penny of that trust fund, not since I graduated college.”

Elaina huffed out a laugh. “And it’s been, what, six months that you’ve been out on your own? Give it another six months. You’ll grow tired of supporting yourself.”

“How would you know, Elaina? You might make good money as a lawyer, but you haven’t had to support yourself since you married my dad.”

Elaina stood even more rigid. She knew when Vicky called her by her first name that her stepdaughter was mad. It’d been the same way when they’d argued about which college Vicky should attend. Vicky hadn’t wanted to go to Harvard as her father had. She wanted to go someplace close to home because, despite her differences with her parents, she still loved her childhood home.

A home she might not see anymore.

Well, then, so be it. Her parents needed to understand, she didn’t want to live life under their control. She wanted her
own
life.

“Victoria, this is your last chance,” Elaina said. “I’m not going to ask you again. Come with me now. You can call your boss in the morning and tell him you quit.”

“No,” Vicky said.

Elaina tossed her chin. She might look twenty years younger than she actually was, but her blue eyes could turn as hard as ancient rock. “Very well. I’ll tell your father of your decision.”

“That might be a good idea since it’s
his
money.”

“You know I’ve never cared about the money.”

Vicky almost laughed. Given how quickly Elaina had chased down her dad after her mother had died, she doubted that was true.

“Tell my father I love him,” Vicky said, opening the door. She didn’t bother to say goodbye. This confrontation had been brewing between them for years—ever since Vicky had entered her teens. Elaina had wanted Vicky to be a debutante. To dress like a lady. Attend New York balls and parties. Vicky had refused and nothing had ever been the same between them since.

“Goodbye, Victoria,” her stepmother said by the door. “I do hope you change your mind.”

To Vicky’s shock, Elaina leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Vicky replied.

Elaina left then. Vicky watched her go, a part of her hoping she’d turn back. She didn’t and Vicky sighed.

“Wow,” Brandon said, once the door had closed.

“I’m sorry about that, Brandon.”

“She’s, ah…something else, your stepmom.”

“Yeah,” Vicky said. “She is.”

“And she looks as if she could be your sister.”

“I know.” To be honest, it was part of the reason why Vicky never worried about makeup and expensive haircuts. Why bother when nobody would give her a second glance? It’d taken years for Vicky to be comfortable in her own skin. Thank the lord she wasn’t the type to be jealous.

“Hey,” Brandon said gently, pulling her into his arms, “don’t look so sad.” He gave her that wide smile. “At least you still have me.”

For now. She hated to think that, but she was realistic about her chances of a relationship with Brandon. Everything was so new and just a little bit frightening. One minute she’d been lusting after him and the next—
whew
—she didn’t know what to think.

“And we have something in common. We’re both disowned by our parents.”

Maybe. Maybe not, Vicky thought. In the morning she’d call her dad. Maybe she could patch things up through him.

“Makes you wish you could choose your own parents, huh?” he asked.

“Or your own stepmother,” she muttered. He was rubbing her arms, and it was starting to feel good. Oh, who the hell was she kidding. Anytime Brandon touched her it felt good.

“Now you know why I don’t want to have kids. Geesh. Scenes like that one with your stepmother and the one with my father make you wonder if the apple’s going to fall far from the tree. No, thanks, man. I don’t need to mess some poor kid up thanks to my unhappy upbringing. I bet you feel the same way, too.”

Vicky leaned back and stared up at him. “You don’t want to have kids?”

He tipped his head sideways, staring at her curiously. “No, I don’t. I think that’s why I want to do the boys’ ranch. I can help other people’s children in between focusing on my career. Just like you.”

“What do you mean ‘just like me’?”

His hands fell to his sides. “What you said. Back at the track. You said you didn’t want anything interfering with your career. I thought that’d meant…”

That she didn’t want kids, either. She could read the words in his blue eyes.

She shook her head. “I never meant that,” she said softly. “I mean, I’m not saying I definitely
want
kids.”

God, how could she just be discovering this now?

Calm down, Vicky. It’s a little early to be freaking out. The man hasn’t even said he loves you yet.

She almost huffed out an involuntary laugh. As if he would ever do that. He didn’t love her. He might be temporarily fascinated by her, but that was all.
She
was the one who’d started to fall head over heels for some ridiculous reason. But it was hard not to wonder what he was thinking when he was looking at her like that.

“Let’s just talk about this later,” he said softly. “All I really want to do right now is kiss you.”

She wanted that, too. To heck with Elaina. To heck with his father. To heck with everything.

He caught her lips with his own, and as his kiss deepened, Vicky found herself thinking she’d do anything for this man. Yes, even give up the future she’d always planned.