Race For Love (4 page)

She was just supposed to hide this from everyone? "TJ—"

"Promise me, kiddo. I need this. Daniels is my legacy. And I believe in you. Something happens to me, Christian inherits, but I want the world to know what you can do before anything like that ever happens."

Everyone thought he was crazy for continuing to invest in her. But he never listened to the naysayers. She understood needing to prove something, she nodded. "Okay."

"Then prove it... Start getting better." He stood, kissed her on the top of her forehead. "That's all I need right now. You get better, can you do that?"

She nodded, panic setting in. How could all of this have been going on and she had no idea? She could think of only one person who was going to get her where she needed to be and quickly. They might kill each other in the process, but it would be well worth it if she could give TJ what he wanted.

She and TJ talked for another hour before he finally left to go home. When she watched his car navigate down the winding slopes of the driveway, she picked up the phone and called the one person she needed. He answered on the first ring. "This is Derek."

Derek punished the treadmill in the hotel gym. Kisima Jennings’ words kept running through his skull.
I don't think this is going to work out. I don't think this is going to work out. I don't think—

He pushed faster, trying to outrun the echo of her voice in his head. In his blood. Since he'd left the ranch, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Which was part of the problem. He sure as shit couldn't work with her. They would clash at every turn.

The other problem, he fucking wanted her. Bad enough to consider begging. Those dark, chocolate, arresting eyes of hers had latched onto his soul. In the sunlight of the study, her cinnamon kissed skin had looked soft and good enough to taste. Even with the chair, he could tell she was strong and athletic, but curvy. He liked strong women. None of that waify bullshit.
Idiot
.

It was like he never fucking learned. He couldn't explain it, but the pull to her was strong, potent. After Kallie, he should have learned his lesson. But his cock, apparently, was a little slow on the uptake. He could ignore it, but if he was trapped in one room with her for several weeks, he might go insane.

He knew he'd been an ass. And he'd even tried to rein himself in. But the fire in her eyes was too fun to watch. Someone with that kind of fire would never just take being in a wheelchair at face value. She was a fighter. He knew it. It pissed him off that the woman in all the photos was replaced by a pampered princess.

She was the princess in the ivory tower who expected everything to be done for her. And he thought Kallie Wintor was spoiled. She had nothing on Kisima Jennings.

The main house reminded him of a trip his family had taken to California to see Hearst Castle when he was a kid. It wasn’t nearly as large or opulent, but pretty fucking close with the old-world feel. From the research he'd done, he knew that the Daniels were an old racing family. The founder of Daniels Racing, Donald Daniels had been an oilman who had too much money and no idea what to do with it. Looked like that was still true today.

The grounds, from what he'd seen and the map he'd been given, contained three guesthouses spread across the property. The one directly behind the main house was about a football field away. Between the two houses, there was a pool, a basketball court, an expansive circular driveway and a state of the art gym.

The map boasted two other equally large guesthouses on the property spread out around the mazes and the racetrack. TJ Daniels had a racetrack on his freaking property. Granted he ran a racing school too, but damn. Why the hell had his dad never sent them out there for summers? That would have certainly been a change of pace.

Though, judging by that enormous chip on Kiss Jennings' shoulder, the money hadn't done her any good. He was still trying to figure out that relationship. She clearly lived there, but what was she to the old man?

Stop thinking about her. It's not like you're ever going to see her again. Something way too close to regret spread from his chest. No, he was not upset about not seeing her again. He was missing an opportunity to use his skills. Yeah, yeah. The lies he told himself. Either way though, he'd be right about one thing. It wouldn't work to be at odds with her trainer. He needed someone to commit to working their ass off. And he had a feeling Kisima wasn't that kind of girl.

His phone chimed and he hopped off the still moving treadmill to snag it. Maybe one of those calls he'd been making to every friend he had in the league was finally starting to pay off.

"Hello, this is Derek."

There was a beat of silence and his skin prickled with awareness. "This is Kisima Jennings. Do you have a few minutes?"

His brain told him to be cautious. Told him that he'd regret taking this call. But every instinct and cell in his body told him to take it. "What can I do for you, Kisima?"

"I don't suppose you'll let me get away without eating any crow."

He smirked. "Not on your life."

"Fine." She was silent for a moment. "I would like you to come back. I need your help." It sounded like she was speaking through her teeth.

His gut twisted even as the adrenaline flooded his veins. He wanted to go back. Just the idea of seeing her stubborn little vein jut was enough. "On one condition, I'm in charge of your recovery. I say it, you do it. No questions, no complaints."

More silence. No doubt she was thinking up all the ways she could kill him. "Fine."

"In that case, I'll see you tomorrow."

K
iss was nervous
. There was the anticipation of hard work coming her way, but some of it was also him. There were no two ways about it. Derek Donovan made her nervous as hell. Which was stupid really, because she didn't even like the guy. He was arrogant and a huge pain in the ass. Worse, he thought he knew everything.
And you need him
.

If she didn't want to lose her team, she was going to have to get her ass in gear. She understood TJ's reasoning, but she wasn't going to let it happen. All she needed to do was get back on the track and win a major race. How hard could that be? Easy peasy. She could do it in her sleep...that was if she ever slept.

"You ready to work, Kisima?" Derek approached her kitchen wearing his shit-eating grin and cocky attitude. Along with that pair of jeans it made a spectacular outfit. She was already regretting this.

"Yeah, apparently that's why you're here. Are you settled in your room?"

"Pretty much. Thanks. This place is something else."

She glanced up and around. "Yeah, it is." Growing up she'd loved it here. But as she'd gotten older, she'd grown increasingly aware that it wasn't hers. She was only a visitor at the castle. "Lunch is usually around noon and if you need anything, you can use the intercom and someone from the main house will bring it down for you."

He smirked. "I'm sure I'll manage. So for starters, why don’t you tell whoever prepared lunch that we won't be needing it."

She frowned and wheeled around to face him. "You're not hungry?" She continued wheeling backward.

"No, I'm famished, but we're going to make lunch ourselves."

"We?" She cocked her head. It's not that she didn't cook, she actually liked to, but it had been a very long time since the kitchen was her domain. The staff had stocked the kitchen since he would be staying here, but she’d expected to order everything from the main house.

"Yes, we. It's this concept that will involve the two of us often doing things together. The first thing will be making lunch."

"I don’t understand."

Derek smirked. "You will." In the kitchen he asked her where a few things were kept, but otherwise, he moved with the flurry of a man well accustomed to cooking for himself. Or maybe someone else. As slyly as possible, Kisima checked for a ring.

But apparently she wasn't as slick as she thought she was. "I'm not married. I just like to eat so I figured out how to cook. No big deal."

Feeling like teasing him, she cocked her head. "I wasn't impressed."

"Oh yes you were." The wink was quick, but she caught it nonetheless. "Okay, now come on over here and help me chop some onions.

He handed her the chopping board, placing it on her lap. The knife came second and next came the first half of a peeled onion. Staring down at it, she wondered what series of decisions had led exactly to this moment.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. She was not going to lose her shit over a few measly onions. "No." She steadied the onion he handed her and started to chop. It wasn't pretty. Her arm felt shaky, and a couple of times, the knife nearly got away from her, but at the end of five minutes, she had some chopped onions. Never mind that six weeks ago this would only have taken a minute. Still, she was proud of that. "Here you go."

He picked up the chopping board and glanced at her not-so-pretty chopping job, picking up one of the largest pieces and examining it, but he said nothing. Well screw him and his bloody onions.

She thought she'd done a good job. He also handed her a large spoon to mix the pasta salad he'd thrown together. When she took the serving spoon with her right, he shook his head at her and tsked.

"But I'm right handed."

"Is your right shoulder the one you separated?"

Damn him. "No."

"Then please do it with your left." He smiled at her, stunning her for just a moment. But she knew what it meant; she was going to hate every moment of this process. By the end of it, she'd hate him. The voice she thought was so sexy now she'd grow to loathe. She could see it in his eyes. He wasn't going to let her get away with anything.

At the same time, there was no way she was giving him the satisfaction of her quitting. Slowly, as she stirred, her shoulder screamed. Sweat popped and beaded on her forehead, dampening the hair at her temples. When she was done, she pushed the bowl toward him.

Even his thank you was patronizing. She was going to need to find her zen place if she wanted to continue working with him.

"How does it feel?"

He wanted to know how it felt? Awesome, he was a sadist. "Like I just put my shoulder through a meat grinder."

He nodded as if he expected that answer. "Do you want to tell me why you refuse to take anything for the pain?"

Every cell inside her seized. There was no way she was telling him that. Besides, what was she supposed to say?
TJ's pill-popping wife wrapped her car around a telephone pole with me and my father inside and I was the only one who survived.
When she'd been questioned if Marion had been under the influence, she'd lied to protect the woman she'd loved like family. But even then her young mind understood that Marion's little happy pills had been responsible for her father's death, for her loneliness. "Nope." She didn't care how much pain she was in, she wasn't taking anything.

He shrugged. "Okay suit yourself. But we're going to lay some ground rules." As he spoke, he piled chicken salad onto the thick slices of fresh baked wheat bread. He cut two sandwiches and carried them to the table. After grabbing them both water he sat.

"Rules?" She wasn’t looking forward to this, but the sooner she knew what she was dealing with, the better she'd feel.

"For starters, no more aides. Everyone goes. I know it probably made sense when you first got home, but not anymore. I can help you with anything you need help with."

She flushed when she thought about how she needed help getting in the shower sometimes. "I'm not sure how I feel—"

"It's a rule Kisima. It will make you rely on yourself to do things. Modify where you need to, but it makes you self-sufficient. You have full mobility of your legs. I want you to start using them."

She'd expected that. "Fine, whatever."

"Glad to see you so amenable to my rules today. Next, no giving up, no running, no telling me to leave because shit is hard. Some of what I ask you to do will be painful and it will hurt, but I expect you to work hard, to push through. No quitting."

"Is that what you think I've been doing for the last several weeks? Giving up?"

He took a bite and groaned. As he wiped his mouth he spoke around the napkin. “We make a pretty good team." When he was done chewing, he added, "Oh, and you're going to start taking your pain meds."

"No. You can't force me and I won't take them."

"Usually I can't get people to kick their meds, but you won’t take them. Why not?"

"None of your business. But that's one rule that's not happening."

He held up a hand. "Look, you're going to be in pain. That small bit I had you do just now, you're going to be hurting from in a few hours. You need sleep. The meds will help you get that."

He could say whatever he wanted, but she wasn't budging. "You don't need to know why, but you do need to know that I'm not doing it."

He sighed. "We don’t have time to argue. What if I limited the medication to acetaminophen and ibuprofen? No narcotics, then will you work with me? This will all go more smoothly if you don't feel like hot buttered ass all the time."

The laugh bubbled out of her mouth before she even knew what was happening. He grinned and winked at her. He also nudged her plate closer, encouraging her to eat. In that moment she decided that the man should do nothing but smile all the time.

"Wow, that's a sound I haven't heard in a long time."

She shouldn't have jumped. It was just Christian — and it's not like they were doing anything wrong. Except, the idea of doing something wrong with a guy like Derek Donovan didn't seem like a bad idea at all. Christian leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Hey. Honestly, I didn't expect the two of you to be laughing. And if there was laughter I expected it of the maniacal variety with one of you standing over the other's body."

"We're just getting acquainted. Derek has some rules he wants me to abide by."

Christian's brows rose. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

Derek smiled coolly. "All geared around getting her mobility back. Things she can and honestly should already be doing for herself. As well as how hard I expect her to work."

"Great news." Christian grinned at her. And to avoid talking to him, she took a huge bite of her sandwich. He frowned. "Kiss, what are you eating? Let me call up to Marta to have her bring you the fresh gazpacho. The carbs won't be good for you until you get back on your feet again. Honestly, why did you struggle to make something when Marta would have just taken care of it." He turned to Derek. "I'm sorry about that. She has it in her head that she needs to be super strong all the time. I keep trying to tell her that she should let me take care of her."

Kiss flushed hot with shame and anger. This was why she didn't want to come back here. That feeling like she couldn't be trusted to take care of herself. Food got decided for her, cars picked out, clothes laid out. It suffocated her.

Derek raised a brow. "Well, there are some studies that show that low fat, high carb diets can aid with wound healing, besides, she's going to need the energy in a few minutes." He shrugged and slid his gaze over her again. "Besides, she can stand to gain a few pounds."

Kiss wanted to simultaneously slap and hug Derek. "I like chicken salad so I'm going to eat it. Besides, one of Derek's new rules is that I cook for myself. I think it's a great idea."

Christian's tight frown said he clearly didn't agree. "You can't be serious. She's practically an—"

Derek shook his head. "Be careful what you say next. I also have a strict policy of what words I allow around my trainees. If you're going to say anything that will undermine her progress and suggest in any way that she may not make a full recovery, she doesn't need to hear it. Isn't that right, Kisima?"

Okay, not like she liked him, but that was awesome.

Derek darted his glance between them before he said, "I'm going to go ahead and take this to my room, and give you guys some privacy.”

She shook her head. "You don't have to do that."

Christian missed the cue. "Actually it would be nice to have
my
girl all to myself. For a bit." Emphasis on the “my.”

Derek's easy-going countenance shifted slightly, like he was thinking up ways to kill Christian. But then the smile was back. "I'll leave you to it and get settled. Kisima be ready to work in thirty."

Christian balked. "But you just got here. Surely you can't expect her to just jump in."

"I can and I do." Both men squared off.

Kiss put a hand on Christian's arm. "Why do I feel like I just got a golden shower. I keep telling you I'm not into the freaky shit." Derek barked out a laugh, then restrained himself immediately. Christian just looked irritated.

When Derek's footsteps faded along the expanse of hardwood floor, she turned her glare to Christian. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He shrugged. "I don’t think I like the guy."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's something about the way he looks at you."

She gestured at herself and the chair. "You mean with pity and derision? Come on. You're being crazy."

"I feel it. I'm telling you. Maybe I shouldn't go on my trip. Give you a hand around here. Maybe find you someone else. Clearly this guy doesn't know what he's talking about."

Christian had been planning this trip for over a month. Gifford Racing wanted him at their London headquarters for planning meetings for the upcoming season. "Go, it's important. I'll be fine. I need to do this."

He slid his gaze around. "Maybe, but if you need me..."

She shifted in her chair and winced at the pain along with that lingering look he gave her. What the fuck was that all about? "I know where to find you. Bring me Cadbury's chocolate, the one with hazelnut."

He kissed her forehead and she fought the urge to shrug him off. Why was it she was more anxious to get to training than she was to stay in Christian's arms?

"Of course." He held on a breath too long like always. He was so close that for one terrifying moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he didn't. "Kiss, there is something else."

"Oh yeah?" She inched her head back so they weren't in such close kissing range.

"I was thinking, when I get back, we can go out?"

"To celebrate me driving again? I'm down for that." She smiled but still tried to buy her some mere inches. She loved him, but there was friendship, and then there was close-talking friendship. And they were not there yet.

He sighed and shook his head. "No, uh, more like a date. But we can make it a celebration too."

Shit. For months she'd sensed the subtle change in their dynamic and she'd let it go because she didn't want to do the awkward, awful thing. She cared about him and didn't want to hurt him. "A-a date?"

He nodded. "C'mon, Kiss. We've known each other forever and we care about each other. Not to mention that neither one of us seems to be able to make it work with other people."

Yeah, what about the hot and heavy stuff? He was missing the most important component. "Christian, I don't think—"

He shook his head. "Look, how about you don't answer now. Think about it and give me an answer when I get back. Either way, dinner's on me. But, I hope you say yes."

As she watched him walk out, all she could think was that she had one more unpleasant task to look forward to.