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shaft of shock rendered him speechless. She used to bring Tom his helmet and gloves. She used to murmur something too. At one time Finn had tried to eavesdrop, but he’d quickly decided he was being ridiculous and didn’t care what she’d said.
Then she’d always run to meet her brother after the finish, whether he’d won or not. She’d run out and hug him warmly, affectionately, with admiration in her smile and trust in her heart.
Instead of the usual envy the memory evoked, he battled with another surge of guilt that she couldn’t run to Tom any longer. Then called himself fifty kinds of fool for toying with the idea that she could run to him if she needed to. As if.
‘Hey, are you with me?’ She clicked her fingers in front of his face. ‘You’re phasing out, there. Something I should be worried about?’
Out came his signature smile. ‘You worried about me, baby?’
‘No. I’m worried about the multimillion-pound car you’re likely to crash to lose the championship! Did you get some sleep?’
Strangely enough, the couple of hours he’d managed had been demon-free, with his new boss the star of the show. Which was typical of him—wanting something he could never have just to make the challenge more interesting. The win more gratifying. Because, let’s face it, while he fed off the rush of success, it never seemed to be enough. He was always restless. Always wanting something elusive, out of reach.
So, no, he did not trust himself around her. ‘I did catch a few hours, thank you. It’s amazing what the presence of a sexy spitfire can achieve.’
Her delicate jaw dropped as she grimaced. ‘You mean after I left you actually…?’
Finn shook his head in disbelief. She thought he was talking about someone else.
Why was it that she’d grown up surrounded by men and yet had no conception of her unique brand of sexuality? It was as if she lacked self-confidence. If so, he wished she’d start believing him. Wished he could show her what she did to him.
Too dangerous, Finn. Just get in the car, win the race, show her you’re a fixed man and get her back off to London out of harm’s way.
The pep talk didn’t work a jot. And, come on, she might fancy the pants off him but it wasn’t as if she would ever answer to this overwhelming burn of desire. One, she was an intelligent little thing and she had more sense. And, two, she hated his guts.
‘After you—sexy spitfire that you are—left, I slept. Alone.’
Her mouth a pensive moue, she simply stared at him.
Finn watched the soft shimmer of daylight dance through the shadows to cast the lustre of her skin with a golden radiance, enriching the heavy swathe of her hair until the strands glittered with the brilliance of rubies. A shudder pinballed off every vertebra in his spine.
‘Why do you do that?’ she asked, more than a little frustrated.
‘What?’ Shudder?
‘Say things you don’t mean.’
‘Who says I don’t mean them?’
She gave a little huff. ‘Past experience. You’ve always delighted in ensuring I know you see me as nothing more than a tomboy.’
‘Tomboys can’t be sexy?’ She was the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And that was before she wrapped that incredible body in leathers to straddle her motorbike or—give him mercy—put on a driver’s suit. Then it was, Hello, hard-on; bye-bye sanity.
He had no right to slide his gaze over her body in a slow, seductive caress, trying to remember the sight.
The boots moulded to her calves shuffled uneasily. ‘Stop it!’
‘You don’t like it.’
Statement. Fact.
‘No. I don’t.’
Why? Because the extraordinary chemistry bothered her? Or because she was experiencing it with the man who’d stolen her happiness?
While the reminder punched him in the heart, it didn’t stop him from saying, ‘So why don’t you take the compliment for what it is, baby? The truth.’
Crossing her arms over her chest, she hiked her chin up. ‘But I don’t want practised compliments from your repertoire. They mean nothing to me. I merely want you to do your job.’
Knife to his gut. Fully deserved. For the first time in his life he rued his reputation.
The smooth skin of her brow nipped and he realised his emotions must be seeping through the cracks in his façade. He schooled his expression with ruthless speed as his guts twisted in anger. One false move with this woman and he’d be finished.
‘Look, Finn….’ She sighed softly. ‘I know you want to win this race and you’ve held the title for four years, but positioned at the back…? It’s too risky an endeavour for even you to try and take the lead. I don’t think anyone has ever done it before.’
If that wasn’t a red rag to a bull he didn’t know what was. He was also pretty sure being careful wasn’t the name of the game.
‘So just try and get a decent finish and come back here with the car in one piece, okay?’
For a second he thought he saw fear blanch her flawless complexion. Fear for him. And something warm and heavenly unfurled in his guts. Until he realised she merely wanted the car back in one piece. Idiot.
‘Yes, boss,’ he said, with a cheeky salute as he sealed up the front of his suit.
‘Good,’ she said, and the word belied the cynicism in her eyes. ‘Now, get your backside in that car and let’s see some St George magic.’
Walk away. Finn. Walk away and stop playing with her like this. You cannot have her!
‘You think I’m magic?’
‘I think you display a certain amount of talent on the track, yes.’
‘My talents—
‘If what is about to come about of your mouth has any reference to bedroom antics I will knock your block off.’
Finn cocked a mocking brow. ‘I wasn’t about to say anything of the sort. My, my—haven’t we got a dirty mind?’
‘Liar,’ she growled, long and low, like a little tigress, and he almost lost his footing as he backed out of the garage.
How did the woman do it? Make him feel alive for the first time in months. Make his smile feel mischievous and his body raw and sexual when no other woman could.
Narrowing her glare, she lifted one finger and shook it. ‘I don’t like that smile, Finn. I really don’t. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever stunt you’re about to pull…’
The scorching rays hit his nape, the crowds chanted his name and he unloaded his charismatic arsenal and licked his lips. ‘Trust me, baby.’ Slanting her a wink that made her blink, he veered towards the Scott Lansing race car. ‘Trust me.’
Finn was sure she muttered something like, Not in this millennia, and he smiled ruefully. If she had any sense she’d remember that.
Inhaling long and deep, he infused his mind with the addictive scents of hot rubber and potent fumes that stroked the air—as addictive and scintillating as the warm, delicious redhead he’d left back at the garage.
Within ten minutes he was packed tight behind the wheel, the circuit a dribble of glistening molasses ahead of him, pushing his foot to the floor until the groans and grunts of the powerful machine electrified his flesh. Oh, yeah, he was a predator, with a thirst for the high-octane side of life, the thrill of the chase. One goal—to win.
Pole position. Middle