Restore My Heart (26 page)

“Not much. It’s stock car racing, right?”

“Right. There’s Busch, then Winston Cup. Winston Cup is like the major league to Busch’s minor. It takes lots more money, sponsors, and impressive driving to get into Winston Cup. The engines are bigger, the wheel bases longer, and the competition tougher.”

“I see.”

“Okay, so Dad was the team driver. Uncle Sal was his mechanic, although we all worked on the cars. Dad raised me in the garage, so I couldn’t help but be a mechanic. He gave me trivial chores at first, just to keep me out of trouble.” She grinned into the darkness at the memory. “Cheap child care.”

“No wonder you know everything about cars.”

“Not everything. But I learned a lot from two of the best car buffs in Kentucky. Later, Dad saw the value in keeping me on his crew. Cheap labor. Don’t get me wrong. I loved it. There was no place I’d rather be than at the tracks helping Dad race. He was phenomenal.

“Clay Enterprises attracted the attention of a big corporation that wanted to sponsor us in Winston Cup. The Busch Race in Rockingham was like an audition. If the Clays could win that one, or at least come in the money, we’d have the contract.”

This was where the story got dicey. Sally drew a shuddering breath. “I was in my senior year. I’d kept up my grades so I could miss school to travel with the crew. Dad wanted me with him.”

Her voice broke. A sob lodged its way into her throat, robbing her of speech.

“Honey, take your time.” Joe slid his arm around her shoulders and hugged her, whispering soothing words into her hair.

She hated the tears. After a difficult struggle, she blinked them back and swallowed. “I was working the pits, same as always, being the gofer for the guys. During a yellow flag, Dad pitted.”

“Uh, pitted?”

“Took a pit stop for a tire change. Tire changes take seconds, a routine thing. We’d done it hundreds of times. But before all the tires were wheeled out of the way, Dad took off. He must’ve clipped a wheel as he sped away.”

“What happened to the wheel?”

“It’s a freaky thing, really. It shot into the pits. I—” she swallowed. “I was in its path. Talk about wrong place at the wrong time. It took out my knee and nearly my whole leg.”

“Oh, no.”

“Several surgeries later, the doctors gave up on my walking again. But I showed them.”

“Yes, you did. You’re a strong, courageous woman.”

“Well, thanks. But I ruined Dad’s life in the process.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I shouldn’t have been out by the car. That wasn’t my job. But I was so excited for him and wanted to cheer him on. Because I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, I nearly lost my leg. I wouldn’t let them tell Dad about the accident. He needed to focus on driving. But when he saw the ambulance, he pulled into the pits, found out what had happened, and quit the race.”

“So he didn’t make Winston Cup?”

“He never raced again. He was old by racing standards, anyway. That was his last shot, his only shot. He and Uncle Sal liquidated, dissolved Clay Enterprises, and Sal opened Mustang Sally’s. None of us were ever able to coax Dad back into the business, or into much of anything else except a bottle of beer. He’s not been well.”

“So you blame yourself for that?”

“You didn’t see his face when he came into the emergency room. He took one look at my mangled leg and fled, a look of absolute revulsion on his face.”

“Yeah, I saw that look, the bastard.”

“Joe, don’t.”

“I’m sorry. But so far you’ve told me nothing to justify his shabby treatment of you.”

“Shabby? I ruined his life! Don’t you get it? Thanks to me, he lost his one shot at Winston Cup. He couldn’t stay on the racing circuit with a daughter needing expensive surgery and physical therapy.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“What do you mean? Of course, I’m sure.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Tell me? No, but he’s been ill. Clinical depression. He didn’t always get the treatment he should because mine cost so much. He skipped doses of his medicine to stretch his prescriptions.”

“Sally, I’m in your corner here. But maybe you jumped to conclusions, which is understandable if your dad won’t discuss it with you.”

“What other conclusion is there?”

“Guilt is a strong emotion. It’s a classic cause of depression.”

“What do you know about guilt?”

There was no humor in Joe’s chuckle. “Every day I blame myself for Dad’s suicide.”

“Alleged
suicide. But, why?”

“I’ve been the classic workaholic, too busy building my career to spend time with family. With Dad. I should have seen it coming.” He was silent a moment, as if waging an internal debate.

“You really believe you could’ve saved his life, Joe?”

“I’m not saying it’s logical. I just have this overpowering conviction that had I been involved in his life, if we’d been closer, I could’ve saved him.”

“Even if he was murdered?”

“Especially if he was murdered.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because—because he called me, asked me if I could come home for a visit. He said he needed my advice.”

Sally squeezed his hand. “When was this?”

“Maybe four weeks ago. He said, ‘Your mother can’t help me with this, son.’ I told him I’d be up as soon as I could. I was pushing myself at work, bringing in new clients. I want to be the firm’s youngest vice-president. The day they offered me the position, I planned to come here that weekend to see Dad. That’s the day Mom called.” He stopped talking, and Sally sensed he struggled with his emotions. He drew a shuddering breath. “I didn’t make it in time.”

“Leo understood, Joe. Uncle Sal said he bragged about your success. He’d never have wanted you to jeopardize your career.”

Joe shrugged. “I didn’t say it made sense. Guilt seldom does. But for the rest of my life, it’ll haunt me that I didn’t help my dad the one time he asked me to.”

Sally had no response to that. “I feel your pain” sounded trite, even if it was the truth.

“But we were talking about your guilt, not mine,” Joe continued. “In the case of your father, it’s possible that the sight of your injury fills him with guilt and self-loathing. You think you’ve ruined his life. Maybe he thinks he ruined yours. Think about it.”

“I—I never even considered that.” Sally’s head spun. Joe’s theory rocked the foundation of the last nine years of her life. “His withdrawal wasn’t just from me, but all of the family. Uncle Sal, too.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you and your father had a conversation? Maybe you need neutral ground, like a therapist.”

Who could afford a therapist? Yet recently, she and Dad had made progress without a third party, hadn’t they? “He’s reached out to me a couple of times. I was afraid to hope, but—”

“What happened? I mean, I know he’s come to work for you. That’s a huge step, right?”

“It sure is. But tonight—” Unbidden tears choked off her words.

“Don’t keep this bottled up, honey.” Joe held her close, letting the tears soak his shirt. “You’ve had nine years of it. Let it go.”

Pulling away from Joe, she fingered the gold choker, heavy against her skin. “My jewelry. He gave me this to wear tonight. It was Mother’s.”

“The guy couldn’t have seen the way you look tonight and be unmoved. He cares about you, don’t you see?”

“He—he said I was lovely.” Her voice broke. “I’m sorry. I came here thinking we’d share a night of wild sex. Instead, I’ve dumped the sad story of my life on you.”

“I insisted.” Joe placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Thank you for listening. I had no idea how much I needed to unload.”

He gathered her in his arms and pulled her back against his chest. “You let me do unloading of my own.”

“We’re a sad pair.”

“We’re friends. And we probably needed to unload more than we need sex.”

“Maybe.” But Sally intended to make the most of her fantasy evening. She slid her hand inside his shirt, stroking his chest with her fingertips. His sudden intake of breath was all the encouragement she needed.

“Kiss me.”

Joe lowered his mouth to hers. The touch of his lips chased reason from her brain. Her bold tongue stroked his, inviting him to take her. He responded— oh, how he responded!—with hands that knew their way around removing a woman’s dress. The stroke of his fingers against her flesh as he slipped away her Wonderbra hurtled her into mindless abandon.

“I can’t think,” she whispered.

“Do you need to think, sweetheart?”

“I don’t remember.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest as her fingers kneaded his hard pectorals. Soon she lay there completely nude, vulnerable and exposed. Although very little light filtered in through the curtained window, she could make out shapes and shadows. She fiddled with Joe’s cufflinks, removing them, tossing them to the floor. Next, she tugged off his shirt.

Joe pushed her back onto the bed, then lay beside her, kissing her mouth, her neck, the sensitive tips of her breasts, driving her crazy with want. His mouth traveled lower, over her abdomen, the sensitive area on the inside of her leg. His thumb teased at the apex of her thighs.

Sally closed her eyes against the white stars that danced in her vision. Mounting tension held her rigid. On the precipice of release, she heard her own voice begging Joe, for what, she wasn’t sure. She just knew he had the power to relieve her of this overpowering ache inside her.

Instead, Joe took his time, his lips moving lower still, all the way down the inside of her thigh. With his hand beneath her knee, he lifted her leg, his mouth finding the scar tissue, the ugly remains of her painful injury.

“Joe, no.” She tried to pull her leg away.

“Shh. Lie back. Let me make love to all of you, Sally.” He placed a tender kiss at her massive scar. “You’re a beautiful woman. All of you.”

He alternated gentle strokes and reverent kisses over her scarred leg. Silent tears leaked from her eyes. Robbed of speech, she could only marvel at this gentle, caring man and his acceptance. She’d been able to open up to him about the accident, and now as a lover.

She knew she had a long way to go. She also knew, beyond a doubt, that she’d fallen deeply and irrevocably in love with Joe Desalvo. Then her thinking derailed when Joe’s hands traveled north.

His fingers and lips found her most intimate spot, licking and caressing her until she quivered like a tightly coiled spring. Clenching her muscles, she focused on that elusive feeling of completion until she thought she’d shatter. Then all tension broke free in one glorious spasm. She surrendered to wave after pleasurable wave of her climax.

Joe gazed at Sally, her naked body spread out in the dark shadows of his room. His body ached for her, but he couldn’t take what she offered, no matter how tempting. She deserved a commitment. She might not realize it, but making love without a future would destroy her. Joe couldn’t be the man for her, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be the one to hurt her.

Forcing his mind on a thousand different subjects, he summoned his self-control. Scooting back into a sitting position against the headboard, he gathered Sally in his arms.

“What about you?” She gazed at him in the dim shadows of his room, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire.

“I, uh, don’t have a condom.” He had no hope of explaining his real reluctance. She’d probably not find it noble. “I can’t protect you.”

“Okay.” She ran her hand over his torso, then lower, cupping him. “My turn.”

Her unexpected boldness nearly cost him his resolve. “Uh, Sally—”

She reached for his belt, making quick work of his zipper, then pulled down his trousers. When he started again to protest, she silenced him with a kiss. Her lips moving with his until he suffered mental meltdown, she proceeded to tug at his briefs.

She trailed kisses across his chest, then lower. He writhed and moaned, unable to stop his response to her if he’d wanted to. And he sure as hell didn’t want to. So much for nobility.

“Does that hurt?” Her question was sincere, not a playful taunt. A slight tremor hinted at her inexperience.

His voice a hoarse whisper, he managed to say “No.”

“Tell me what feels good,” she murmured, stroking his length.

“That. That feels good.” He reached for her shoulders, pulling her toward him for a kiss. A long, thorough kiss. Her fingers massaged his hardness. God, he could take her. It’d be so much easier than resisting. His body yearned to possess her. “You’re testing my self-control.”

“I don’t want you to control yourself.”

She pulled away, then lowered her head, her mouth covering his penis in one swift, commanding move. She licked, squeezed, and tantalized him until he thought he would climax.

And then he did.

He started to push her aside. Sally clung to him, fearlessly taking him in a way few woman dared. He was lost. Her warm mouth and caressing hands hurtled him into orbit, the sensations so powerful, he didn’t think he’d ever return to earth. Nor did he care.

After his heart rate returned to normal—well, close to normal—Joe reached for Sally, hugging her next to him, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Wow.”

“I’ve never done that before,” she murmured.

“Well, don’t try to improve on it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“I wanted you to enjoy it.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it, honey.” She could easily arouse him again. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, of course.” She lay in his arms, her breathing slower and steadier now. He thought she’d fallen asleep until she finally spoke again. “Joe?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me about your life in Atlanta.”

He reached for the edge of the bedspread. Covering them, he pulled her closer to cuddle. “I have a condo near town, where I work for an investment firm. What is it you want to know?”

“What do you do for fun? Do you have friends? Go to Braves baseball games? I know so little about you.”

“Not true. You know secret stuff nobody in Atlanta would guess.”

Her breath tickled his skin. “Like what?”

“You know I feel guilty about my father. You know I regret not spending more time with my family. You know my grandmother has me wrapped around her little finger. And you know I have a weakness for sexy female mechanics.”