Race To The Altar. Patricia Hagan
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“Who are you with, by the way?” he asked over his shoulder as he bent down next to the car.
“Well, I’m not a reporter, I’m—”
She was drowned out by the noise of the jack lifting the car, followed by the whine of air wrenches removing the tire’s lug nuts.
“Sorry,” Mack said when it was quiet again. “Go ahead. What paper did you say you’re with?”
“I’m not with a paper. I’m Liz Mallory, the PR representative for Big Boy’s Pizza, and—”
That was all she had time to say before Rick came careening out from under the car, and this time, he did knock her down.
She fell right on top of him, her bottom landing on his stomach.
Reacting in time to grab her and keep her from cracking her head on the concrete, he cried, “The heck you say. Tell me this is a joke.”
“No, you’re the joke,” Liz cried, struggling to get up, but he held her tight, her breasts brushing his cheek as he tried to sit up with her still on top of him. “And you’re out of here, mister. With your attitude you’re not the kind of person my agency wants identified with the Rick Castles racing team. So you can go elsewhere and wheedle your freebie race passes.”
Rick and Liz locked furious eyes while the rest of the crew burst into raucous laughter.
Liz turned to glare. “I’d like to know what’s so funny. You don’t realize how this man behaved…how he talked to me. He even had the nerve to intimate that all the new sponsorship meant was free pizzas. You think I’m going to put up with having someone like that around this team?”
Mack, still laughing, walked over to take her arms and pull her to her feet. “Well, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
The mechanic was greasy, and thanks to falling on him, she was, too. She yanked the rag from Mack’s hands and began swiping at the black streaks on her skirt, but it only made matters worse. Then she suddenly realized what Mack had just said. “What did you mean by that?” she demanded, eyes narrowed.
“I mean,” he said, grinning, “that you’re going to have to put up with him, because this is our driver.
“Liz Mallory,” he said with relish, obviously enjoying the moment, “meet Rick Castles.”
Chapter Two
“Mack, is this one of your stupid pranks?” Mack was the team joker and always clowning around.
Still laughing, Mack said, “I’m afraid not.”
The cords in Rick’s neck stood out, his lips a thin, angry line. “Tell me this is a gag,” he demanded of Liz. “You can’t be the PR rep for Big Boy’s.”
“I most certainly am.” She reached down to retrieve her bag. When she’d been knocked down, everything had spilled out. She had to search for her business cards, finally thrusting one at Rick. “Here. This explains me, but I’m still hoping you are the gag.”
He let that dig pass. “How come you didn’t say who you were to start with?”
“You gave the impression you weren’t a regular member of the crew, so I didn’t figure it was any of your business.”
“Well, regardless of whether you thought I was or not, it would have been polite to introduce yourself.”
“Ha! Look who’s talking about being polite. Is the snotty way you acted with me the way you treat all your fans?”
“Groupies, yeah,” he said, hands on his hips, all the while telling himself not to think about how cute she looked with her green eyes sparkling mad. “If I took the time to talk to every woman who wrangles a pit pass to flirt with a driver, I’d never get anything done.”
“Oh, so you assume that every woman who speaks to you has romantic notions? What an ego.”
“Hey—” he jabbed his finger in the air “—don’t talk to me about nerve. You were the one putting on an act. All you had to do was say who you were, and it would have been a whole different ball game, sweetie.”
“Yeah, right. And I’d never have known what an arrogant, conceited, self-assuming chauvinist you really are, Rick Castles. But you did keep me from wasting my time trying to make you presentable to the public…and wasting the sponsor’s money, as well.”
She jabbed right back, only her finger hit him right in the chest as she added, “And don’t call me sweetie.”
“Oh, yeah, great, fine. But it’s okay for you to call me names.” He pushed her hand away. “And don’t touch me.”
“Who wants to?” She knelt down to scoop up the rest of her things and stuff them back into her purse.
She did not see the wild, pleading look that Mack and the rest of the crew were giving Rick.
And Rick was still too mad to care.
Mack said, with a nervous laugh, “Hey, you two are acting like kids. How about both of you calming down and let’s talk about all this.”
“What’s to talk about?” Liz said as she reached under the race car to retrieve a lipstick that had rolled beneath. She snagged her stockings but didn’t care. She was already a mess.
“You two have got to get along,” Mack said.
Liz stood and slung her bag strap over her shoulder, turning away from Rick to respond to Mack. “I disagree, because when I tell the sponsor what a jerk your driver is, they’ll rethink things and probably withdraw.”
She was bluffing, because she doubted she had that kind of clout. Besides, if she told Jeff she detested Rick Castles, he might pull her off the account and give it to someone else. She did not want that…did not want to fail at anything in her career again…especially because of a man.
Mack said to Liz, “Hey, please don’t do that.” Then he grabbed Rick’s shoulder and shook him. “Listen, man, we need that sponsorship money, and you know it. So apologize and call a truce.”
Liz folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot as she waited for Rick’s response. So what if she was trying to pull off a bluff? It was important to establish some ground rules here, or he’d walk all over her. And she couldn’t have that. He had to know who was in charge when it came to public relations, and, by golly, she would not stand for him being unfriendly to fans, regardless of whether some of them were what he so scornfully referred to as groupies.
Rick started picking up tools that had scattered when he came out from under the car so fast. “I don’t see where I did anything so terrible.”
“You lied,” Liz coldly pointed out. “And it most certainly was my business to know who you were.”
“Yeah, if you’d told me who you were instead of playing coy.”
“That’s beside the point. You were rude, and you don’t treat fans like that.”
“Okay, hold it.” Mack got between them. “So you two have gotten off on the wrong foot. Suppose you start over. Liz, I’m afraid Rick acts off the track like he does when he’s on it—he never gives an inch.”
“That’s called being stubborn,” she said. “And maybe it works when he’s racing but not now.”
Rick ignored her as he went about his business.
Mack allowed, “Maybe so, but that’s how he is. And who’s to know how it would’ve been if you’d introduced yourself in the beginning? I don’t think he’d have jerked you around like he did.”
Liz stared at Rick’s back as he bent beneath the raised hood of the car. His T-shirt was stretched tight, and she could see the ripple of his muscles as he worked.