The Chase (13 page)

“Relax. It’s just a publicity shot. They’re not going to do anything more than have us sitting on a car wearing jeans instead of these stupid khaki pants. And I’m looking forward to seeing you in jeans . . . you have a hot—”

Kendall cut him off. “Keep your voice down, God!” She felt heat rising in her face as she glanced around to see if anyone had overheard their exchange.

“Why? It’s not like they can’t see you have a great ass.”

“Are you trying to wreck your career?” Kendall asked him, incredulous about his casual attitude.

There was no time for him to respond because the corporate executive came back into the room holding the smallest tank top Kendall had ever seen in her life.

That better not be for her.

“This is for you, Kendall.” He held the scrap of black cotton out to her. “The golf shirt looks too unnatural on you . . . like you work at a Best Buy or something. This should help you feel looser.”

Looser being the key word.

Kendall had opened her mouth to tell him “hell no,” when Evan yanked the shirt out of the guy’s hands and held it up. It looked even more offensive dangling in the air, a V cut out in the front for cleavage display.

“There is no way Kendall is wearing this,” he said flatly. “I won’t allow it.”

Which ticked her off even more than the idea of wearing the Untamed boobie top. And that had her pretty hopping mad.

“Excuse me?” she said quietly, narrowing her eyes at him as all the blood in her body rushed way past the boiling point. “What did you just say?”

EVAN
was well aware that maybe his choice of words hadn’t been the best. But he had seen that trashy tank top and had seen red. They were going to take Kendall’s very impressive cleavage and make it the center of the shots. He had told her not to play down her gender, but damn, throwing her chest out there would totally send the wrong message to fans.

Plus he’d seen the way that SL Smith executive had been leering at Kendall all afternoon. Evan wasn’t about to let that old pervert have imagery to spank his monkey with later.

So instead of dealing with the storm gathering on Kendall’s face, Evan just turned to the executive and said, “To have her in a tank top like this and me in a golf shirt is ridiculous. I’m not doing shots like that.”

Kendall startled him by ripping the tank top back out of his hands and physically stepping between him and the guy. “I’ll handle this, thank you, Mr. Monroe.”

Mr. Monroe? What was he, his dad?

“I’ll need to put in a phone call and check with my PR rep and the team owner, Carl, to see if this type of advertising is acceptable to them. I’m new to the cup series and I’d hate to misstep with my boss. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

The SL Smith guy met Kendall’s gaze and then nodded sharply. “Why don’t we schedule a meeting with my people and your people for next week? We can use some of the shots we already have for the press release.”

“Excellent.”

Evan felt his admiration for Kendall increase tremendously. It was clear she was furious, yet she’d handled it swiftly and professionally. “I’d like to be a part of the meeting as well,” Evan said. “If you plan on continuing to link my image with Kendall’s.”

If anything, he figured he and Eve could be a backup for Kendall, helping her stand firm about not doing cleavage shots. But he didn’t think Carl would go for it anyway. He wanted a clean image for his drivers.

“We definitely plan to have a joint publicity campaign this season for the two of you. So I’ll make some calls and set it up. Thanks for your hard work here today.” SL Smith Guy, whose name Evan couldn’t remember, shook his hand. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“Thanks.” Evan watched him turn and shake Kendall’s hand, then exit the studio. The photographer was already shutting off his lights. Kendall disappeared to the dressing room and reemerged with her duffel bag.

Without a word, she stomped off towards the parking lot.

Evan grabbed his own bag and jogged to catch up with her. “Hey, hey, wait up.”

She whirled to face him. “Just leave me alone. Please?”

There were tears in her eyes, shocking him into halting in the middle of the parking lot. “What the hell is wrong?”

Brushing at her eyes, she said tightly, “Don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

Yet Evan knew her well enough to know it was a big deal. It looked like she was crying out of anger, and about way more than some stupid tank top. “You’re clearly angry. Just let it out. Use me as a punching bag. You’ll feel better, I swear. Especially if it’s me you’re mad at.”

“I’m not thrilled with you,” she admitted.

“I didn’t mean what I said to sound like you couldn’t take care of yourself. It just really pissed me off that he wanted the shot to basically focus on your chest. I half expected him to suggest the stick of deodorant should go
in
your cleavage.” Evan was only half-joking.

“I know. It made me angry, too. I’m angry that you feel paternal, I’m angry that I’ll always be nothing more than just the token girl of stock car racing, and I’m angry that I don’t know how to do this.”

Evan wanted to touch her, to try to calm her down, but he valued his life too much. For such a tiny woman, she gave off a lot of rage. “First of all, my feelings for you are not paternal. In any way. Do I feel protective instincts? Yes, of course I do. All men do for women they care about. Does that mean I want to dominate you or think you can’t take care of yourself? Hell, no. It just means, plain and simple, I care about you and don’t want you hurt or taken advantage of.”

She crossed her bare arms and shivered in the March breeze, gazing off across the parking lot. “What are we doing, Evan? We shouldn’t have had sex. That was stupid. I can’t handle my life as it is, I don’t need this complication.”

It’s not like his life was simple either, given that his season was a total suckfest. But it seemed to him she was making it more complicated than it needed to be. “Nothing needs to be a complication, Kendall. We just had fun, that’s all. We’re old friends, with great sexual chemistry, and I don’t regret one second of the other night. But I’m not sure that’s what’s really bothering you. What did you mean when you said you can’t do this? Do what? Race?”

Sighing, she dropped her arms, letting her duffel bag fall to the blacktop of the parking lot. “This media stuff. This being famous stuff. Driving is my thing. It’s what I do best, it’s what I love. But the rest? I’m clueless.”

“Every rookie feels that way. It’s overwhelming. Ask Elec how he mangled his way through his first few interviews. And I accidentally made an ass out of myself last season when I broke Pete Briggs’s track record.”

“It’s more than that. It’s this feeling that people are coming at me all the time, do you know what I mean? Not the fans . . . they’re awesome. I love meeting them at events. It’s all this business stuff, these photo shoots and signing merchandise, and following a schedule so rigid that sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I just want to run away . . .”

The tears were in her eyes again. “God, I sound like such an ingrate. Here I have everything I’ve ever wanted and I’m complaining.”

She looked so vulnerable that Evan did reach out and touch her. He wiped off the stray tear that had escaped on her cheek, and dropped his hand to her shoulder and massaged it. It was tight with tension. “Hey. You’re not an ingrate. It’s a demanding job, and we all have things we like and don’t like about it. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the media attention, you just need to make sure you have a quiet place to get away to. You have to build in downtime, even if it’s just half an hour.”

“Easier said than done . . . I have all this pressure. I mean, my car is running tight, and we have Bristol coming up and you know I’m not particularly confident on that track, and my motor home is being repaired so I have to stay in a hotel off-site. It’s just . . .” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “A lot.”

Evan put his free hand on her other shoulder and kneaded through her Untamed golf shirt. “Been there, done that. But worrying about everything and anything doesn’t change the situation or make it any better. If you need a place to stay at the track this weekend, you can stay with me.”

And if she were so inclined as to have sex with him Sunday night after the race, even better.

But she snorted. “Are you nuts? Do you know what people would say?”

“That we’re friends?” he said, even as he knew that was naïve. The whole racing world would conclude they were sleeping together, which they sort of kind of were. Or at least they had last week.

“They’ll say we’re knocking boots.”

“We did knock boots,” he told her. “Three times in one night.”

Her face contorted. “Ugh. Which was such a bad idea. I mean, I don’t have time for sorting out relationship crap on top of everything else.”

Evan didn’t think she even realized how revealing that statement was, but he did. She hadn’t said “sex,” or anything about closure of their past . . . she had said “relationship” in the present tense. Which despite the negative tone that had accompanied it, made him feel pretty damn hopeful. “Alright,” he told her easily. “But you need to find time for a massage. Your shoulders are so tight I’m surprised you don’t squeak.”

They weren’t even relaxing under his touch as he rolled his thumbs from her neck to her arm in slow, even strokes.

“Where am I going to find a massage therapist at,” she glanced down at her watch, “eight at night?”

“I’m sure your assistant can find you one. Or you can just let me offer up my very talented hands.” Evan leaned just a little closer to Kendall as ran his hands lightly down her arms, then back up again to her shoulders, her neck, sliding up the base of her skull with rhythmic pressure. “We can grab a bottle of wine, go somewhere quiet . . . It would be my pleasure to help you relax.”

“You’re not talking about a massage,” she accused, even as her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes darkened with desire.

“Of course I am. I’ll massage every inch of your body until you’re so relaxed you’re about to fall asleep with a smile on your face.” Evan brushed his mouth over her ear and whispered, “Then with you still on your stomach, I’ll lick between your thighs until you come, a relaxed and lazy orgasm . . . you don’t even have to move. Then when you’re sighing into your pillow, I’ll push my cock inside you and I’ll move slow and easy, and all you have to do is enjoy it.”

Her breathing had hitched while he was speaking, and for a brief exciting moment, Evan thought she would say yes. But then she shook her head. “I’m not in the mood. Plus it will just complicate things even more than they already are.”

Smart enough to know when to retreat, he just nodded. “Okay. I understand. Now why don’t you get yourself home? It’s freezing out here and your goose bumps have goose bumps.”

She smiled. “Thanks, I will.”

Then suddenly she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, a soft, intimate caress. “Thanks, Evan. You really can be a good guy.”

Which made him want to shuffle his feet sheepishly like a little kid who’s been given a compliment from his adult crush. The only difference was Evan had a boner accompanying his sheepishness.

“And you’re a cool chick,” he told her, retreating behind flippant. She wasn’t the only one who wanted to bury her feelings from time to time. “And if I don’t see you tomorrow, I’ll see you in Bristol.”

Her forehead creased. “Don’t remind me. Plus on Monday we have the Untamed commercial shoot in Los Angeles. That’s going to be awful.”

“Hey, hey. One day at a time. And remember, if you want a place to stay, my motor home is your motor home.” He winked at her. “I won’t even expect sexual favors.”

He expected an eye roll or a bristling reaction. But Kendall just lifted her eyebrows. “Monroe, if I’m going to stay in your motor home and have everyone think I’m sleeping with you, I’m damn well going to be sleeping with you.”

That erection he’d been fighting went one hundred percent solid and he nearly groaned out loud. “Is that a yes?”

“No.”

Then she walked away.

Damn, she was getting good at that.

And Evan was really starting to feel like he didn’t like it.

“HOW’S
it looking, David? Do I have the room?” Kendall asked her spotter over the radio as she kept her eyes on the number 48 car in front of her. She was going to pass him on the rim, but with the sharp banking on the track at Bristol she wanted reassurance she had room if she started to lose grip on her tires and float towards the bottom.

“You got it. Go for it.”

With fifteen laps to go of five hundred, it was now or never, so Kendall waited until the driver in front of her hit the turn and started to find his line lower. She kissed the wall, took the turn then shot past him on the straightaway before he could block.