After the Dawn (24 page)

“She's ready.” Dillon nodded toward the 1948 BMW. “Sam and I checked.”

“A lot is riding on this.”

Dillon slapped Carson on the back. “I know. I wouldn't have fitted the car with the intercooler if I hadn't been sure it would work. My reputation is on the line as much as yours.”

“You have the honor of having the first Collins intercooler,” Samantha added.

Carson shook his thick head of coal-black hair. “Or the disgrace if I come in out of the top ten.”

“You won't,” Dillon said with confidence. “I tested the baby out myself. You're almost as good a driver as I am. The intercooler will give you the power and speed to finish in the top three.”

“
I'm
the better driver, but you know motors and how to get the most power. See you after I cross the finish line.” Carson put on his helmet and got inside the car. His crew pushed him onto the track.

“No matter how it goes,” Samantha began, following the slow-moving car, “thank you for giving Collins a chance.”

“You sound as if he's going to lose.”

“No.” She dared look into Dillon's strong face; he had carried her through so much. “He'll win.” And when he did, she'd lose Dillon.

Her unshakable faith in him made his chest tight. No words from anyone except his mother had affected him more. He kept walking so they could watch Carson's qualifying run, pushing away what he wanted with increasing need—to drag Sam to the nearest bed and make a feast of her. He knew just where he'd start.

“Samantha.”

Dillon looked around to see a man of medium height in a gray polo shirt and jeans heading toward them. Immediately, he knew it was Mark Washington.

 

Thirteen

Dillon's gaze swung to Samantha. She hadn't rushed to meet the guy. Neither did she have the look of a woman missing a man. His fists unclenched.

Samantha waited for Mark to reach them. He was trim and good-looking, and he did nothing for her. She hadn't felt the slightest twinge at the sound of his voice when he'd called this morning while she was eating breakfast with Dillon. Dillon's deep voice teased her senses, stroked her, and, yes, ticked her off at times. But he made her feel. Mark didn't. She wondered if he ever had or if she'd just been lonely enough to settle.

Mark hugged her. She accepted the hug, but when his lips moved toward hers, she pushed him away. She ignored the angry frown. She'd told him this was business. “Mark Washington, Dillon Montgomery.”

“Mr. Montgomery, I've heard of you, naturally.”

The handshake was brief. “I can't say the same of you.”

Samantha wanted to swat Dillon. This was too important for him to be impolite. “I'm glad you could make it, Mark. Carson is about to take his qualifying run with a Collins intercooler installed in his car.”

“That's taking a big risk.” Mark stepped past her and looked down the track. “His car has come in the top five in the last four races.”

“With my design, it will allow the engine's hot air to run into the compressor before it runs into the coils. He'll come in in the top two,” Dillon said. “Carson's best has been fourth.”

“No new intercoolers have come out in the past year for good reason,” Mark said. “They don't work.”

“Mine will.”

“We'll see,” Mark said dismissively.

Ignoring Mark, Dillon turned as the announcer called out Carson's name and number. Sam couldn't have been interested in such an uptight jerk.

“Here we go. I understand the '48 BMW has a new intercooler designed by Collins Industry. Rowland is certainly tearing up the track.”

“Go, Carson. Make it roar!”

Dillon looked down at Sam, her small fists clenched, excitement on her face. He'd like to get her excited for an entirely different reason. Lifting his gaze, he stared into Mark's angry face. Dillon grinned and turned back to see Carson burning down the track.

“Man,” the announcer said as Carson zoomed across the finish line, “that's the top speed of the day! Carson Rowland of Rowland Racing Team in a 1948 BMW is in position to take the pole. If he does, it will be his first this year.”

Dillon folded his arms, turned to Mark, and said, “You were saying?”

“It could have been a fluke.” Mark caught Samantha's arm. “Let's go someplace where we can talk.”

She threw a glance at Dillon. “Don't you want to talk to Carson?”

“Later. I'd like to get more background on the story.” Mark looked at Dillon. “You don't mind, do you?”

“If I did, you'd be the first to know it.”

Samantha didn't watch Dillon walk off. It would have been too tempting to give him a swift kick. Now he was possessive, when he'd ignored her most of the week. “Let's go to the media room.”

“They're always crowded.” Mark stared down at her. “I have a suite at the Bellagio.”

“It's the media room or nothing.” Samantha freed her arm. “I called you because I know and respect you as a journalist. I wanted you to get the scoop on the intercooler, but that's the only reason. If you've come for any other purpose, it's not going to happen.”

“You just can't throw away all we meant to each other. We were together three months.”

“That ended over six months ago.” She touched his arm. She knew how it was when your love wasn't returned. It hurt like hell. “I'm sorry. I just don't feel the way you do.”

“Because of him?”

Yes, but that was her secret. “We'll talk about turbos and intercoolers or nothing. I'm sure I can find another newspaper.”

“Turbos and intercoolers.” Taking her arm, he led her toward the media room.

Samantha knew that would be his answer. For Mark, his job always came first. One day she wanted to meet a man who'd put her first. They passed Dillon at the Rowland slot. He didn't even look up.

*   *   *

Roman didn't know what to expect when he pulled up to Marlene's house Saturday afternoon. He was thirteen minutes early. Staring at the house, he tapped his fingers against the dash. It had taken a tremendous amount of trust for her to tell him about her childhood and Dillon's father. She probably didn't even realize it. She was so used to being self-sufficient. He didn't want to take that from her, but he did want her to know he would always be there for her.

His hand brushed over his face. When this assignment was over, he wasn't walking out of her life. She'd once told him she was too old for an affair and she wouldn't get married if her life depended on it. Very soon he hoped to change her mind about one of those statements.

The front door opened and Marlene stepped out wearing a long-sleeved blouse and loose pants. She smiled and waved.

Breathing easier for the first time since he woke up that morning, he got out of the car. He didn't stop walking until his arms were around her slim waist, his lips on hers. He inhaled her soft sigh and lifted his head. “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.” She stood easily in his arms, her hands splayed on his chest, before stepping away. “Lunch is ready.”

Roman followed her inside, his gaze dropping to the easy sway of her hips. Even in loose-fitting clothes, she got to him. She was going to be his. “I guess you're used to me being early.”

“Do you see me complaining?”

Hearing her repeat his words from last night, he relaxed even more. “What can I do to help?”

“If you'll grab the tea and the rolls, I'll finish putting the food on the table.” She picked up a platter of chicken.

“As usual, this looks good.” After placing the bread on the table, he got their tea. “How was work today?” he asked, holding her chair.

“Hectic.” Marlene glanced back at him over her shoulder before taking her seat. She was flirting. His heart jumped for joy.

“I'll never lie to you or use you, Marlene.”

“I believe you.” She said grace when he sat down, then she served them both. “Dillon called. Carson is in position to take the pole.”

“Way to go, Carson. I know he and my brother are ecstatic. Tess will be just the same.” Roman picked up his fork. “So everything is going well.”

Marlene took a sip of her tea. “Very. The intercooler he developed is being credited with Carson's speed. Collins and Dillon have quite the buzz, I understand. When orders start rolling in, Collins will be able to pull itself out of the red.”

Roman frowned. “I'm not sure that's the reason for the problems.”

“What did you find?” she asked, leaning forward.

“I don't want to say anything until I have all the evidence I need,” he said cautiously.

“Someone is stealing?” she persisted.

“Yes.”
But not in the way Dillon thought.

Anger flashed across her face. “Abe might still be here if he hadn't been worried. Find the thief and Dillon will prosecute whoever it is.”

Roman wasn't so sure about that. “What's the first order of the day?”

“Mulching the azaleas and roses. You might wish you hadn't volunteered.”

He picked up a roll. “As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.”

“Tell me that two hours from now,” Marlene said, but she was smiling.

*   *   *

Of course, once they were in the nursery of the home improvement store, Marlene saw some pink begonias and a trailing petunia basket she just had to have. Roman hadn't seemed to mind her wandering, stopping to check the merits of a plant, discussing various plants with other customers. Not for the first time, she noticed women looking at him. However, for the first time, she wanted to say he was hers. She didn't berate herself at the thought.

She was fully grown and single.

“I know squat about plants.” Beside her, Roman pushed the shopping cart rapidly filling with plants. “Maybe one weekend we could drive up to my house in Dallas and you can tell me what I need to get it in shape.”

Intrigued, she scooted over so a customer pushing a flat cart could pass. “What do you have now?”

“Dirt, a bit of mulch, and weeds.” He rushed on when her eyes widened, “I have a yardman to keep the grass cut and take care of the flower beds, but I don't think he's doing a good job.”

“Then give him a choice, do the work or hit the road.” She placed the gallon Gerber daisy back on the table. “It irks me when unscrupulous people take advantage of people.”

“Dillon said that's how the garage here started,” he said.

“Yes.” She continued down the aisle. “Talk to your yard guy. Get him to clean out the flower beds and then I'll help.”

“Next Saturday afternoon too soon?” he asked.

Her heart knocked against her ribs. They'd be alone and free to do as they pleased. Plus she wanted to see his house. His confidence in her delighted her. “No.”

“Good. I'll pick you up at around one, and after you see the yard, we can go to a nursery.” He caught up with her. “Thanks, Marlene.”

“I haven't done anything yet.” She glanced at him.

“We both know you have,” he said quietly, his eyes grateful.

She did trust him, and she wanted him with a growing need. “Let's check out and get to work.”

*   *   *

Carson retained the pole position, and because it was his first all season, there was a lot of talk about the Collins intercooler Dillon had designed. By the time Sam and Mark returned an hour later, Dillon had called his mother with the good news. She sounded happy and said she and Roman were working in her yard.

Despite his aggravation with Sam for being off with Washington, Dillon smiled at the image of neat Roman spreading mulch and planting flowers. Since Roman wasn't the yard type—if the bare flower beds in front of his house were any indication—he was there to be with Dillon's mother. Dillon would do his best to stay out of it and not think about them being alone at her house.

He'd much rather think about ruining Washington's pretty face.

On the plus side of Dillon's day, several reporters and two vintage car owners wanted to talk with him about his design. Carson, his eyes full of devilment and still on a high, happily told the owners that Rowland had an exclusive two months with Dillon.

He didn't mind Carson having the exclusive, but Mark Washington set Dillon's teeth on edge. It galled him to give the reporter an exclusive. Dillon made up for it by inviting the reporters to visit Collins Industry and promised to talk to them Monday morning. Washington hadn't liked it, which pleased Dillon even more.

It was almost eight that night when Dillon drove Samantha back to the hotel. “The race starts at twelve. Things will be even more hectic than they were today,” Dillon told her as they walked down the long hallway to her room on the floor below his. “Do you want to meet at seven for breakfast?”

Her hands in the pockets of her slacks, Sam hunched her shoulders. “All right.”

He frowned. She had been quiet since know-it-all Washington had finally left the garage around five. “Missing Washington?” The question just slipped out.

She stopped in front of her door and stared up at him in puzzlement. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because you've been unusually quiet and moody since he left,” Dillon snapped.

She turned to unlock her door. “I have a lot on my mind.”

She was worried. Before he thought, he took her into his arms, his hand sweeping from her waist to the nape of her neck. His thoughts tangled as the warmth of her body, the lush softness of her breasts, nudged him.

He wanted to pick her up and lay her out on the wide bed in her room, kiss her from head to toe, then start all over again, loving her so completely that there'd be no room for any thought except the pleasure they gave each other.

She snuggled against him. She wanted comfort. He wanted her naked and sweaty. He pushed his need away and tried to give her what she needed instead.