Smokin' & Spinnin' (10 page)

“Is it him?” Brooke asks warily.

I look down at my phone. It is him. It’s Colton.

____________

Are you here?

____________

It seems like the restaurant has gone completely silent. I look back up at Brooke and nod my head as I type my response.

______________________

Yes, booth in the back.

______________________

My phone rings out again, signaling his response.

__________

Walking in.

_________

I put my phone back down in my purse, take a deep breath, and look up at Brooke. “He is on his way.” Brooke has the power seat, of course,
which looks out over the restaurant. I watch her as she looks for his arrival. “Tell me when you see him.” She simply nods.

I take another hasty sip of wine to finish off my second glass. As I swallow the clear substance, I hear Brooke mutter under her breath, “Here he comes.”

My heart skips a beat, and I am immediately anxious. I look up, and the gorgeous Colton Johnson is standing beside our table with his breathtaking megawatt smile.

Dressed like a businessman, his style catches me off guard, but it is flattering for him. He has on khaki dress slacks, a patterned button-down shirt, and a navy-blue blazer. He looks like he just punched out at the law firm, not the garage. But, oh, he is so very handsome.

I smile at Colton nervously and hurriedly make an awkward introduction to Brooke, who I can tell is as equally smitten as I am. Colton slides into the booth next to me, and I inch over to make room for him.

“Ladies, it looks like I am behind a round,” Colton says, eyeing our empty wineglasses.

His statement immediately puts me at ease. Brooke and I both laugh. Then, our evening with Colton Johnson begins.

After what seems like hours of talking about racing, Colton sighs and looks over to me. “I have thoroughly enjoyed my evening with you ladies.” Even though he includes Brooke in that statement, his eyes never leave mine.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
My oh my!

“I have an early day tomorrow. My flight leaves for Sonoma at six in the morning,” Colton confesses.

I nod knowingly. Most of the drivers are leaving in the morning to begin qualifying for Sunday’s race, including Ryan.

“Do you mind walking me out, Whitney?” Colton asks.

I flush scarlet and steal a glance at Brooke, who is wide-eyed. “Sure.”

I slide out of the booth behind Colton, nod to Brooke, and hold up one finger, signaling that I will be right back, but I know she wouldn’t think of leaving just yet. I follow Colton across the restaurant to the entrance. As we reach the door, he grabs my hand and ushers me out into the street.

My breath catches in my throat. His touch is intense, and I can’t look at him. We walk briefly down the street. There is a chill in the night air, and briefly I feel uneasy, as if I am being watched. I chalk it up to nerves.

Colton approaches a sleek white Chevrolet Corvette and walks around to the passenger side. “Get in,” he says softly as he opens the car door. I look at him, confused, but before I can say anything, Colton says, “Just for a minute.” I nod as I slide down into the seat.

I cannot breathe. I am so nervous. What could he possibly want with me? I try in vain to act cool and break the tension as he slides into the driver’s side. “I love your car.”

Colton smiles. “Just one of the perks of driving a Chevrolet stock car.”

I am shocked. “GM gave you this car?”

“Yes, General Motors awarded it to me after I won Rookie of the Year a few years back.”

I nod, impressed but clueless. I will have to Google that one. Colton twists his body to face mine, then reaches out and grabs my right hand, which forces my body to face his. I look at him suddenly very shy.

“Whitney…” Colton says as he slowly threads his fingers through mine, “I don’t think this is a secret, but I really like you.”

I gasp.
What?

My emotions must show on my face because Colton laughs softly. “I do. And I want to know more about you.”

I feel a huge lump rising in my throat. I stutter, shaking my head, “Wh-Why?”

Colton shrugs his shoulders, but his eyes never leave mine. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I shift in the seat and feel myself starting to sweat. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict since we work together?”

Colton raises his eyebrows at me and only nods his head.

“I see,” I say and turn to look at the window. I don’t know what to say to him. Yes, his offer is tempting, but I can’t jeopardize a job that I have just gotten, because that would mean a direct failure, which leads me straight back to Georgia. Do not pass go; do not collect $200.

I turn back to look at the gorgeous Colton Johnson. The look on his face is one of concern. “What are you thinking?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Colton, I…I…don’t know what to say or what to think.” A look of disappointment now washes over his face. I continue to explain, “Look, I really like you, too, but I have just moved here, this is my first job, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize it. Garrett gave me the PR position today, and I don’t want to give him any reason to take it away.”

“Really?” Colton asks. “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Congratulations!”

I laugh. “I am not sure congratulations should be in order yet! It has been a day!” Colton laughs too. I shift my weight again in the seat. “Could you just give me some time? I know that sounds so cliché. But I want…I need to do my job and to get a grasp of this sport so that I can be successful. Moving back to Georgia is not an option for me.”

Colton smiles warmly at me and immediately puts me at ease. “I am not sure why you are so hesitant to return to Georgia, but you seem to be a very determined and headstrong girl, Whitney. Take all the time you need.”

And with that statement, Colton leans across the center console of the car and lightly presses his lips to mine. My body tingles. His lips are soft and taste divine. I want to lean into his kiss and place my hands on his face, but he pulls back, leaving me bereft.

Colton looks at me with a sly smile and whispers, “Good night.”

Chapter 12

T
his tumultuous week has dragged on and on. Between the showdown with Ryan in the boardroom on Monday morning, dinner with Colton on Monday night, and preparing for Sonoma, I am worn out, and it is only Wednesday. My flight leaves Saturday morning for the land of wine and spas. I shake my head. This would be any girl’s dream destination, but nope. I am headed to the desert for a NASCAR race.
I am one lucky girl
, I think sarcastically.

I stare blankly at my computer screen. I have read the last clause of Ryan’s sponsorship with Coca-Cola about three times now, and still I have no clue what it says. I prop my elbows up on my desk to support my head in my hands.
Focus, Whitney, focus
. This is my mantra. I have to be better prepared for Sunday’s race in California. I will be damned if I’m going to let him embarrass me again this weekend. Embarrass! Oh hell no! It was complete and utter humiliation. I shudder as I remember Ryan reprimanding me like a child in front of God and everybody. The thought of it still makes me nauseous.
Bastard!

The office is deathly quiet. All afternoon, I have been poring over the upcoming race schedule, sponsorship commitments, and my own reliable copy of
NASCAR for Dummies
that is safely stored on my iPad. I know it’s late, but I have no idea what time it is. I steal a glance at
the clock on my computer monitor, 9:45p.m.
Damn!
I cover my face with my hands and groan loudly.

“Is it that bad?” a familiar voice questions me from the doorway.
Gasp!

I spin my desk chair around so fast that I almost fall out of it. I manage to jump to my feet so I don’t go headfirst into the floor. My heart is racing. I feel like I have just plummeted off the Matterhorn Bobsleds at Disneyland.
It’s Ryan. Holy freaking shit! What in the hell is he doing in here?

Ryan is leaning on the entrance to my office, all smoldering with that arrogant-ass smirk on his face. He is dressed very casually in jeans and a GCR Racing polo shirt. It is cobalt blue, my favorite color. I can tell he is very amused by my reaction.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I snap at him. “Don’t ever do that to me again!”

“Good! I should have. You shouldn’t be up here this late, alone,” he says, emphasizing the last word with his sculptured smartass mouth.

I shake my head at my own thoughts. Catching my breath, I raise an eyebrow at him and ask internally,
Why would you care?

“What the hell are you doing up here so late anyway? Security leaves at eight o’clock,” Ryan questions me as he casually takes a seat in the leather chair in front of my desk.

“I…” I stammer. I open my mouth to speak, then close it again because I can’t come up with a lie quick enough. My brain won’t function, but I don’t want him to know what I’m doing. I don’t want him to
know that he got the upper hand on me Sunday. “Ummm…” I fumble again, but manage to say, “Jerri had a couple things that she needed finished before the morning.”

Ryan rolls his eyes at me. “Sure she did! Come on, let’s go!”

“Go?” I snap. “I’m not done with what I am working on.”

Ryan is beginning to show aggravation as he stands back up, pleading for me to leave. “Whitney! You are not working on the A-bomb!” He leans over my desk, peering at me as he rests his hands on my desk. “It’s late! Let’s go!” he demands.

Let’s? Since when is there an us?

Ryan gives me a stern look. “I want to make sure you get to your car safely.”

Seriously, stop! What’s with the chivalry?

I deliberately roll my eyes at him and groan loudly, mainly because I know he is right. I sit back down at my desk to try to get myself together. I am mentally and physically exhausted. I log off of my computer, grab my bag and iPhone, and bend over to slide my black high heels back onto my bare feet.

I can feel his eyes on me even though my back is to him. I turn back to face him. Ryan is watching me with intent amusement, and I flush when our eyes meet. He is making me nervous.

“What!” I quip sharply to throw him off my discomposure.

He shakes his head at me. “Just waiting on you, Miss Parker.” And then he follows that statement with that smug grin of his.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I snap at Ryan. “Shouldn’t you be halfway to California by now?”

Ryan laughs. “Road courses are not my thing, so I am in no rush to get out there.”

I snort, “Typical!”

I stand up, roll my eyes again, and stride past him in a huff. He laughs at me as he follows me to the elevators. I reach the elevator doors before him and quickly touch the down button, desperate to get away from him, because, frankly, I am uncomfortable. Plus, I am not his biggest fan these days.

Ryan hesitates as he falls in line behind me. A wave of concern washes across his face and he quickly changes pace. “Come on…let’s go this way.” He grabs my arm, redirecting me toward another door, aptly marked “stairs.” There must be an after-hours exit.

When Ryan removes the lead on my arm, I notice a burning sensation that has lit up my whole body.
What the hell is that?
It must be nerves because I am not sure what his intentions are. His current behavior is something I have yet to witness. He must be bipolar.

I follow Ryan slowly down several flights of stairs, when he calls back to me, “Have you eaten?”

Why?
I think.

“Uhh, no,” I mutter and realize suddenly that I am, in fact, starving. My lunch is long gone.

We reach the bottom floor. He opens the back door of the building and leads me outside. Only we aren’t in the parking lot. We are behind
the building, facing a small path through a wooded area. My heart skips a beat.
Oh shit! This is it. He is gonna kill me! He is gonna kill me and hide my body in the woods.

I take a few steps back cautiously. Ryan must notice the concerned look on my face because he says, “Relax, Whitney, damn! I’m not a rapist.” I raise my eyebrows at him as he rolls his eyes and gestures toward a small clearing in the woods. “This path leads to my house. My mom brought over dinner tonight, and there is more than I can eat.”

I notice that what he says is not an invitation, it’s more like a command. He starts down the path, and I put my hand up, signaling him to stop. “Wait just a damn minute. It’s dark, I can’t see, and I have on high heels,” I whine. “I do not walk through the woods in the daylight, much less in the dark.”

He groans, and I can tell he is losing his patience with me. In frustration, Ryan bends down and sweeps me off my feet, cradling my body in his arms.

His swift gesture takes me by surprise. “Ryan!” I gasp. I instantly lose my breath as my arms instinctively wrap around his neck for support. Our eyes lock for a moment in the dark. My stomach does a backflip. I quickly move my arms down to his shoulders. By the look on his face, I think I may have surprised him with my intimate touch. But why would it? He is accustomed to girls falling all over themselves at his feet. I desperately try to regain my composure, but fail miserably.