Dangerous Curves (22 page)

B
LAIN KNEW SOMETHING
was wrong the moment he entered his house. Normally, Cece shut off the lights before she went to bed, leaving the house quiet as a tomb. But tonight the lamps in the family room still glowed, the kitchen lights reflected off the polished marble of the entryway. And for a second he had the same horrible fear he’d had the first few weeks after bringing Cece home. Had she taken her own life? Her therapist had warned him to watch for signs of depression.

He rushed to his converted dining room. The bed they’d placed in the corner was empty. He checked the bathroom off the kitchen next. Nothing. But a glance outside the window revealed the glowing surface of the lake—the waters completely still.

No, not still. Something moved out there. Cece. He saw her silhouette. Her blond hair glowed in the moonlight, and what looked to be a white sweater was thrown over her shoulders. He made his way toward her, wondering what she was still doing up. She should have been in bed hours ago. She needed her rest.

“Cece?” he said, the word a question.

She didn’t look at him, just continued staring out at the lake.

Adrenaline caused by fear made his pulse leap. “Cece, what’s wrong?”

“You mean other than being in a wheelchair?” she said. Then she huffed a bit, and Blain relaxed. Funny. She was trying to be funny.

“You should be in bed.”

She shook her head. Blain squatted down next to her and for a moment was struck by how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. Her accident hadn’t changed that. If anything, it had softened the angular edges of her face. A face that had been beautiful before looked even more stunning now, her blond hair longer and, more often than not, left hanging down her back, as it was now. Green eyes he’d once called the color of coolant seemed bigger, the lashes darker—or maybe that was the moonlight.

“Blain, why are we still pretending everything is normal?”

The words made him rock back. Those green eyes met his own. And for the first time he saw sadness in them, and resignation, and even a hint of fear.

“What do you mean, pretending?”

She looked away. He saw her straighten her shoulders. “I’m not a pet, Blain. You shouldn’t keep me around because you feel obligated. I can take
care of myself now. If being around me makes you uncomfortable to the point that you’re trying to avoid me with late nights and long days at the racetrack, then I’ll just go.”

“Long nights—” He found himself incapable of words, but only for a moment. “Cece, that’s not it at all.”

She faced him again, a blond brow lifted. “Isn’t it, Blain?”

“No,” he said, trying to make her see the honesty in his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you because I feel guilty, or pity you, or can’t stand to look at you, or any of the other reasons you might have come up with. I’m staying away because you’re still just as beautiful to me as ever and I’m having a hell of a time keeping my hands off you.”

That made her eyes widen. He could see the way her lashes flickered, even in the moonlight.

“What?” she asked.

“I want to make love to you, only I’ve been afraid to try. Afraid to ask. Afraid you might say no.”

Those wide eyes of hers never blinked as she stared at him. And then she looked away, and he could see the disbelief in her face.

“I thought you were avoiding me.”

“I am avoiding you,” he admitted with a smile. “But not for the reasons you think.”

“Geez-oh-peets,” she said with a small huff of laughter.

He grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Cece, I love
you. I want to be with you…in all the ways that a man and a woman can be together.”

“Then why won’t you take me to a race with you?”

“Because you’re not ready for it,” he said simply and honestly. “It’s too much. Physically, you’re not ready.”

“Yes, I am, Blain. I’m a lot more ready than you think.”

“No, you’re not. Being out in public, the stress of being in a large crowd again.”

She laughed. “Blain, I go out now, which, if you were around a little more often, you would see for yourself. Crowds don’t bother me.”

“Being in a garage is different.”

“No it’s not, Blain. So if that’s the real reason, you’re being ridiculous. And I’m putting my foot down. I’m going to Darlington with you.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” she asked.

Why not? “I told you—you’re too fragile.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m perfectly fine. Actually, I’m in better-than-average health for someone without the use of her legs.”

“Don’t say that,” he said.

“Don’t say what? That I’m paralyzed? I am, Blain. I’m a paraplegic. A ‘D’ classified, incomplete, lower extremity paraplegic, which means I have a better than average shot at walking again. And I
am
going to walk, Blain. I can promise you that.”

“Of course you are,” he said, shifting a bit so he could brush her face with his thumb.

“No. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he said in exasperation.

“With pity. With commiseration. As if you’re humoring me.”

“That’s not it at all—”

“Why are you with me, Blain?” she asked again. “Why have you stuck it out with me?”

“Because I love you,” he said. “Because even though you’re in a wheelchair, you’re still the same woman who stole my heart.”

“Bullshit.”

He drew back.

“If that was true, you’d never want to leave my side.”

“I told you, I’m worried about your health—”

“So worried that you take off first thing Friday morning with nothing more than a kiss?”

“You need your rest.”

“So worried that you stay late at the office every night?”

“We’re making a push to win the championship this year.”

“So worried that you never take me out, not to dinner, not shopping, not anything?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you, I worry about you being around so many people. The doctor told us you’ll be more prone to illnesses—”

“Bullshit,” she said again, her left hand hitting the
edge of the wheel. “Don’t kid yourself, Blain. You’re not trying to protect me, you’re trying to protect yourself.”

“What?”

Suddenly there were tears in her eyes. Her hands clutched the wheels of her chair as if she were poised to take flight. “You’re afraid if you start treating me like a normal person, I’ll leave.”

“What?”
he said again.

“It’s true,” she accused. “And then where would you be? No way to assuage your guilt. No more taking care of Cece to make yourself feel better. No more treating me like a damn dog you accidentally ran over with that damn Hummer of yours, a dog you have to take care of now because you feel responsible.”

“Cece, I don’t feel responsible.”

“Don’t you, Blain? Didn’t you tell Lance that this was all your fault? That if you hadn’t gone to the track, I wouldn’t be in a wheelchair?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You did. Just like you once told me you accepted how dangerous my job was. And that you loved me anyway. For better or for worse. Is this the ‘for worse’ part, Blain?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then make love to me. Make love to me right now. Right this minute. Because while I’m flattered that you still find me attractive, I don’t really believe it. Prove it to me.”

So he tried to, rising up so he could bend over and kiss her, and to his relief the desire he felt for her sprang instantly and unmistakably to life. He loved her. He wanted to make love to her.

He did. He could feel his erection grow, could feel the way just tasting the familiar essence of her stirred his soul. He would lift her up, take her to the bedroom and do what he’d been wanting to do with her for weeks.

But he didn’t.

She broke off the kiss, her chest heaving as she looked him in the eyes and said, “Go ahead, Blain. Take me inside.”

He reached for her.

And just as quickly dropped his arms to his sides.

“Afraid you’ll hurt me, or afraid you’ll find out making love to me will be different?”

He didn’t know. And, damn it, he should know. He should just pick her up. Carry her away. Do what she’d challenged him to do.

But he didn’t.

And there were tears of sadness in her eyes when she looked up at him. “You can’t do it, can you?”

He could. Yes, he could, damn it. He’d prove it to her.

But he didn’t move. He couldn’t move. Jesus, what the hell was wrong with him?

“And I don’t blame you, Blain. I really don’t. It takes a special man to overlook this.” She patted her legs, a bitter, halfhearted smirk tipping up one side
of her mouth, all the more poignant for the resignation it contained. “I prepared myself for the fact that you might not be that kind of man.”

But he wasn’t that type of man. He’d been wanting to make love to her for weeks.

Hadn’t he? Or was the desire he felt only present during those moments when the wheelchair wasn’t around, those moments when she sat on the couch or lay on the bed? Those moments when she looked like a normal person?

Oh, God, that couldn’t be it, could it?

“Goodbye, Blain.”

“What?”

She looked up at him, tears glittering on her lashes. “I’m going back to San Francisco.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “You’re overreacting. Just give me some time to adjust. We can work this out.”

“No, Blain, we can’t.”

She didn’t move, not for a few seconds at least, and when she did drop her hands to the tires, he found himself saying, “Cece, wait.”

“No, Blain. I’m not waiting. I’m tired of waiting. Life should always be lived to the fullest. You and I both know that hasn’t happened in a while. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit I’m doing us both a favor.”

She turned away, her wheels oddly soundless as she moved from the edge of the lake.

If you’re honest, you’ll admit I’m doing us both a favor.

The worst of it was, he was afraid she might be right.

I
T SUCKED BEING OUT
on her own. It sucked doing it all alone, because Cece flatly refused to take other people’s charity—and there were plenty of offers. Bob volunteered to take her in, but Cece declined. He was her boss, after all, not family. She had no family—just a bunch of friends from the San Francisco office who tried to help her out, but whom Cece turned away. She couldn’t take their pity.

So Cece paid someone to deliver the furniture she’d put in storage, then called a volunteer organization to help her set it up. And Blain never called. Well, he tried, a few times, but it had been so awkward and miserable, Cece had asked him not to call again. He had anyway. So she’d order caller ID. That took care of that.

She threw herself into her new life, trying desperately to keep the faith. But it was hard. She constantly found bruises on her legs from bumping into furniture, bruises she never felt happen. And then there were the battles with everyday living. Transportation. Shopping.

Breathing.

But she survived, although not without a few tears along the way. She ignored the looks of pity. Ignored the expressions of surprise that turned into embarrassment when people bumped into her chair. Ignored the bright, cheery smile people gave her—too bright, too solicitous. Children were the worst. They hadn’t learned the art of duplicity. Their stares were brutal, honest and open. It was through their eyes that she saw herself: Cece, an object of pity.

But her lowest point came the day she got herself wedged in a doorway. It sounded funny, sure, but it wasn’t when it happened. She’d been trying out a new grocery store, one of those small, neighborhood joints a few blocks from her apartment. Someone had come to her rescue. To be honest, it wasn’t the first time she’d gotten herself in such a fix. But as two men helped her out, Cece had felt tears behind her self-deprecating laughter. And when she’d immediately turned to go home, she’d felt those tears fall free. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She’d swiped them away. And then she’d pushed herself home, groceries forgotten. Only, when she arrived she stubbed her toe on her way through the front door. Only, see, she couldn’t feel it, and that started her laughing, laughter that turned almost hysterical.

She must have freaked out one of her neighbors, because she heard a knock on the door, someone asking, “Are you okay?” And Cece had wanted to yell
at him, “No, you stupid idiot. I’m in a wheelchair. I’m
not
okay.” Instead she’d called out, “Fine.” And then added, “I just stubbed my toe.” Which made her laugh all the more because her neighbors all knew she couldn’t feel her legs, which made Cece laugh even harder, especially when she envisioned the look on his face.

She’d lost her mind, Cece admitted. Truly lost it.

She’d caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, wheeled herself over to it without thought. And since she’d lost her mind she could stare at herself objectively.

Oval face. Long blond hair. Eyes red from her brief flirtation with tears. Pathetic.

Someone knocked. The face in the mirror didn’t even flinch.

“Really, I’m okay,” she called out, though a tear had started to fall down the woman’s cheek.

“Cece,” she heard from the other side, a woman’s voice.

The eyes in the mirror blinked. Hands clenched the wheels of the chair.

“Cece, if you don’t open up, I’ll get the manager to do it for me.”

Bob’s wife, Lorna. It had to be. She was one of the few people Cece hadn’t scared away yet. Terrific. Just what she needed.

Cece wrenched open the door.

Bill’s widow stood there.

Cece’s legs didn’t work, but if they had, she
would have wilted to the floor. As it was, she sank farther into her wheelchair. “Kate,” she said.

“You look like crap.”

Cece wanted to laugh, but it would have been hysterical laughter again because she couldn’t just couldn’t believe the woman was here. After all these years. And at one of the worst possible moments of her life.
What was her dead partner’s widow doing here?

“You look…” Cece eyed her up and down. Nothing had changed about Bill Taylor’s wife. Oh, she looked a bit older, maybe a bit worn, but that was it. The blond hair was still the same, as were the crystal-blue eyes. “Good,” Cece finished. “You look good.”

“May I come in?”

“Actually, this is a bad time.”
I’m thinking of committing suicide. Well, not really, but it’s tempting—

“Good. Thanks,” Kate said, pushing past her, which was quite a feat given Cece’s wheelchair.

“Hey, I’m a little busy here,” Cece said.

Kate stopped in the middle of her “family room.”

“Lord, Cece, if I’d known you were this bad off, I’d have come by sooner. Don’t you have someone to clean up after you?”

Okay, so it was pretty bad. Dirty dishes in the kitchen off to her left. Clothes strewn around the floor. Covers and sheets tossed in a heap near the side of her bed, the edge of which was clearly visible from her spot near the door.

“Yeah, well, I can’t afford a maid,” Cece said, curling her hands in her lap.

“You could if you stopped sending me money.”

Cece’s gaze jerked to Kate’s.

“Yeah, I know. Found out a few months ago, when you were in the hospital the checks stopped coming. I looked into it and
surprise.”

That must have been when her paychecks stopped and her disability kicked in. Cece had wondered if there’d been a lag time, but to be honest, she’d had bigger fish to fry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Kate.

“What was there to tell?” she said with a shrug.

“That you’ve been supplementing my income for the past five years.”

“So?” Cece said, pushing herself toward her kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I’m fresh out of sixty proof, but I might have some forty.”

“Cece, don’t,” Kate said, and Cece could hear the hoarseness in her voice. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” she asked, turning toward her with a spin of her chair. Actually, she’d gotten quite good at that. She could probably do pirouettes across the floor.

“Don’t act as if it’s no big deal. It
is
a big deal.”

“Really, Kate, it’s not—”

“Don’t,” she all but shouted, coming toward her. “Don’t, Cece,” she said, squatting down in front of her. And Cece saw the tears well up in her eyes. They’d been such good friends before Bill’s death.
She’d missed her so much. But they’d never recovered from Bill’s loss. And now here she was.

“It
is
a big deal,” she said softly. “And I can’t thank you enough.”

The lump in Cece’s throat felt as big as the world’s largest ball of twine. “You’re welcome,” she said, wishing she could slip past her, move away, maybe show her to the door. Except that was kind of hard to do when one was in a wheelchair. Aside from mowing Kate down, she was stuck.

“Thank you,” Kate said again. “And I’m so sorry,” she implored, another tear escaping. “When Bill died I fell apart.”

“I know the feeling,” Cece said, because she knew where this was going and she wasn’t really in the mood to bestow absolution.

“I bet you do,” Kate said. “I bet you know exactly what it’s like to lose something you’d always thought would be there. Bill was my world. My whole life. I loved him despite the fact that he managed to knock me up five times.” She smiled wryly. “When he died, I fell apart. I was used to him going away for weeks at a time, but this was different. This was gone. And then you showed up at my door and I couldn’t deal with the fact that you’d survived and he hadn’t. I’ll admit it, even though I’m not proud of it. You survived and my Bill was…” She looked away for a moment.

But when their gazes met again, all sign of tears had vanished. “I wanted him back, Cece, because despite
the ups and downs of our marriage, despite the fact that I absolutely hated his job, in the end I wouldn’t have changed a thing about Bill because he was my soul, my life, my love.”

She straightened, Cece’s head tipping back to follow her up. “And
he
would have hated seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Cece tried to brazen it out.

“Like this,” Kate said, flicking a strand of Cece’s lank and, all right, dirty hair out of her face.

“So I’ve let myself go.”

“Bob tells me you’ve closed yourself off in here.”

“That’s not true. This morning I wedged myself in a grocery-store doorway.”

“He said you never get out,” Kate said, stepping behind her and grabbing the handles of Cece’s wheelchair.

“Hey. Whaddaya think you’re doing?”

“Taking you out.”

“The hell you are.”

“I’ve got a van waiting outside.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cece said, trying to stop her chair by putting her hands on the wheels.

“Too bad. You are.”

“No, I’m—” The words died in her throat as she saw who stood out in the hall. Bob and his wife, Lorna, and two of her former co-workers, each staring down at her in determination, each unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Oh, damn,” Cece murmured.

T
HEY TOOK HER
to a riding academy. Cece balked the whole way. She even threatened to make Kate pay back all the money. Kate didn’t listen. Neither did Bob and the rest of the gang. And so, against all her protests, Kate and company did what they called an “intervention,” forcing Cece up on a damn horse.

Cece didn’t want to do it. She hated horses, she told herself. They smelled.

And then the horse took a first step.

Cece felt instantly transformed.

It was like walking again, only…not. Like having her legs back. She felt free. And that was something Cece hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

She’d been feeling useless. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her self-worth. It returned the day she rode.

“Thank you,” she later told them all as they wheeled her back to the van.

But it was Kate who leaned down and murmured in her ear, “Thank
you.”

And on that day a friendship was reborn. Kate came over whenever she could, which wasn’t that often, what with work and the kids—one in college now. But it was enough.

Before long, Cece went back to work. It was just a desk job, but Cece didn’t care. It got her out of the house.

It was the start of a new life. Yeah, it was hard to adapt to work in a wheelchair. But by God, she did it.

The pain began to fade. A little bit at first, but
enough that she began to feel things again. Disappointment, sadness, regret. She missed the physical intimacy with a man, was wise enough to admit she’d likely never have that again. And even though it had been weeks since she’d said goodbye to Blain, it still hurt. Lord, how it hurt.

Then one day she got a call from Lance.

It wasn’t unusual to hear from him. They’d kept in touch. Actually, quite a few people from the track called her. Lance, Rebecca Newell, even Barry Bidwell had called to see how she was doing.

“You sitting down?” Lance asked.

That was the thing she liked best about him. He never ceased to make her smile, even when he was making fun of her.

“You know I am, you jerk,” she answered with a laugh.

She expected another rude comment, but Lance didn’t say a word. And that perplexed Cece enough that she sat up a bit straighter, something that’d gotten easier and easier to do in recent weeks.

“What’s up?” she said when almost half a minute went by without Lance saying a word. That was also unusual. “Is everything all right? It’s Saturday night. You never call me the night before a race.”

“You got cable?” he asked.

“Satellite, actually.” And then the oddness of the question struck her. “Why?”

“You need to watch
Raceday.”

“I need to watch—”

The phone disconnected. Cece just looked at the handset in shock. She dialed Lance’s cell again, but got his voice mail.

What the heck was going on?

A check of the programming grid revealed the show would air in three hours. They must have done the show live back on the East Coast. Now she’d have to wait till six to watch.

But why did Lance want her to see it? She tried calling some of the other crew members, but none of them answered, something Cece found more and more suspicious.

Was Blain all right?

She shouldn’t care, she told herself. If something had happened to him, it was none of her business. But the panic she felt as she checked the Internet for news of Blain Sanders made the thought a total lie. She did still care. Why else did her hands shake?

It was the longest three hours of Cece’s life. She tried to fill the time with exercise. There was a special bike she used to exercise her legs and she’d ridden that thing all the way to China by the time six o’clock rolled around.

“Welcome to
Raceday.”

The familiar words brought another twinge to Cece’s gut. She used to watch the show all the time in her fan days. Now it was too painful to watch anything remotely connected to racing.

“I’m Rob Williams, and we’re here today with Blain Sanders of Sanders Racing and his driver,
Lance Cooper,” said the twenty-something host, a guy with a fake-bake tan and slicked-back hair. “Blain, let’s start with you.”

There he was. And the moment she saw him again, Cece knew she’d sold herself a pack of lies. She wasn’ t over him. She
couldn’t
be over him. Not when it felt as if her whole body was hit by an electric shock when she saw him on the TV screen. Not when her breath caught in her throat as they zoomed in for a close-up. Not when just seeing him brought back every tender moment, every funny moment, every not-so-funny moment, just by looking into his blue eyes.

Oh, God.

“Blain,” Rob Williams said. “It must be a bit surreal to find yourself leading the points race after the wild start your team got earlier in the year.”

Blain gave the host an ironic half smile, nodding a bit as he said, “It wasn’t the best.”

“It was unreal,” the host said. “Your license pulled, someone trying to kill you, that deal at Atlanta Motor Speedway.”

She watched Blain closely, and so she saw perfectly when his face tightened, his smile freezing in place.