Speed Dating (20 page)

“Ow. Would you quit that?”

“She is married.” Whack. “To another man.” Whack. “She doesn’t love you.”

Vainly he tried to catch her swinging arm, but she was too quick for him. “Would you stop whaling on me and listen?” he yelled back.

“No.” Whack. “I’m doing the talking.” Whack.

“Yelling.”

“You deserve it.”

Suddenly, the world tilted and she found herself flipped on her back with Dylan on top of her. Even as she formed her hands back into fists, he grabbed them, one in each hand, and pulled her arms over her head.

“Bully,” she said, glaring up at him.

“You were the one beating up on me,” he reminded her, looking down at her with his eyes crinkling. They were chest-to-chest, belly-to-belly, thigh-to-thigh. Even though he was heavy and half squishing her, she was aware of her heart pounding, of the smell of him and of earth and moss-scented air, of the sky above where a few clouds floated dreamily.

His gaze intensified and she watched his mouth come toward hers. She jerked her head to the side. “I know where that mouth has been,” she snapped.

“What was I supposed to do? Throw the woman on the floor?”

“Seems like a good idea.”

“You abandoned me.”

“I’m not always going to be around to protect you.
Maybe you need to figure out how to keep that woman’s tongue out of your mouth all on your own. You know she wants you back.”

“Well, she’s not getting me back.” He chuckled. “I think Harrison’s going to see to that. Maybe he’s not so much of a dork as I thought.”

“Maybe.” She tried to wriggle out from under him, but it was hopeless. “Can I get up now?”

“Are you going to hit me again?”

“Not unless you make me mad.”

He still didn’t move. His gaze narrowed. “What about the other thing? Am I going to spend all day dodging you and bars of soap while you try to wash my mouth out?”

“You could stay still and take your punishment like a man,” she suggested, rather reasonably, she thought.

“Not going to happen. I had my mouth washed out once by my mom after I cussed. I still remember it.”

She put her head back so she could look up at the trees and sky. In truth, she was enjoying this and wasn’t in a big hurry for it to end.

“Well,” she said, “you have to consider my position. I said I was going to wash your mouth out with soap. I’m a woman who follows through. It’s one of my better qualities.”

“I can see your problem,” he said, shifting slightly so his chest rubbed hers through her dress. “How ’bout we compromise?”

“I believe in compromise,” she agreed, liking the way the sun made a halo of his hair and the way he was looking at her, deep into her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

He switched her wrists to his left hand and with his
right, nudged her hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her earlobe.

His voice was soft and slow, like thick, rich honey. “You sure do have some of the softest skin I’ve ever felt.”

She sighed when his lips followed the path of his fingers. “Toothpaste,” he said softly.

“Toothpaste?” She jerked her eyes all the way open and tried to concentrate. What on earth would they do with toothpaste?

He was smiling down at her now in a very disconcerting way, obviously reading her confused thoughts. “To wash out my mouth. Would you consider toothpaste? Instead of soap?”

It would be so much easier to think if he’d stop stroking her in that slow, deliberate way. Still, she tried to hold on to her concentration. “Let me get this straight,” she said, losing part of the last word in a sigh of pleasure as his lips tugged on her earlobe. “You want to substitute having your mouth washed out with soap with—brushing your teeth?”

He appeared to think about this deeply. “I want to be absolutely fair about this. I guess you could brush them for me.”

She was too far gone down the path of loving him, and he was too ridiculous. “Oh, Dylan,” she said.

Love is such a gift, she thought as she stared up at him, hers to give. Even though he didn’t love her back, she was the better for loving him. Of that she was certain.

“Come on.” He rose gracefully and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go wash my mouth out.”

She brushed at the collection of dirt and leaves and
twigs that decorated her dress, then followed him inside, all the way to his bedroom where, even though there was no one but them in the house, they shut the door behind them.

T
HE SWARM
of the pit crew buzzed around Kendall in ordered chaos as the team made the final preparation for today’s race at Indianapolis. Dylan had signed his last prerace autograph, given his final interview, and he only had one job left to do before climbing into his vehicle.

This was the moment she’d come to treasure. There wasn’t a lot of media today; one camera and a single print journalist. A dozen people who’d somehow wangled garage passes and the crew were on hand for the ritual.

Dylan wore his usual charm like armor, preventing anyone from getting too close. Still, she responded as she always did to the warm light in his eyes, to the half serious, half playful way he walked up to her.

“Good luck, Dylan,” she said, hanging on to her smile even though her heart felt as if it were imploding. For she knew what he didn’t yet—this would be their last kiss.

After the wonderful night they’d spent together, she knew she had to get out while she still could.

She hoped her words would echo in his mind when he realized she was gone, and that he’d understand she’d meant it as a goodbye. She did wish him luck. She
wished him everything in life that he deserved and didn’t understand he even wanted. Family, children, a future that extended farther than the next race.

He held her shoulders for a moment, looking down into her face, almost as if he knew. And then he dipped his head. She closed her eyes and felt the warm impact as his lips covered hers.

Usually, their prerace kisses were brief, but as she felt the pressure lessen as he started to pull away, it was as though he couldn’t break the connection, not yet. Suddenly he was pulling her hard against him. She made a little sound of pleasure and protest, and
oh, yes, please,
and then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him for all she was worth. It was a kiss to keep in her memory forever, a kiss to bring out and treasure when she was lonely and wishing things could have been different. That he could have been strong enough to overcome his demons and fight for her. For them.

When he lifted his head, his palm cupped her cheek for one more moment of painful intimacy. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said.

She didn’t reply, because she was an honest person, so she took the helmet from his crew chief and slipped it onto his head.

Dylan pulled out and took his place on the track. Her adrenaline began to pump.

When the race started, the roar was like a hundred jets, and the cars flew past at speeds that still astonished her and seemed more like flight than any earthbound travel.

After being a NASCAR good-luck charm, she’d come to feel part of this amazing spectacle. She knew
those guys currently flying around the track, knew their wives and families. Part of her wanted them all to win, but in her heart of hearts, she’d give Dylan a tiny head start.

She shaded her eyes against the sun, watched and sent her good-luck vibes Dylan’s way.

This was how she wanted to remember him.

There would be no goodbye, because she couldn’t get through goodbye without making a fool of herself and she was done making a fool of herself over men.

The woman who once would have settled for Marvin Fulford as a life partner now knew her own worth. She’d never settle again. Not for a man who didn’t truly love her, even if that man was Dylan Hargreave, the man who would always own a part of her heart.

If she tried to say goodbye, he was going to talk her out of leaving. He’d use his charm and warmth and the fact that she loved him to convince her to stay for the rest of the season. He’d ask her to stay for the team, and she was crazy enough that she might agree.

Except that Kendall was tired of being a team player. Once, just once, she wanted to be the star of the show, the person other people put themselves out to impress or help. She’d brought Dylan good luck and for that she was happy. Actually, she believed he’d gained confidence from believing she brought him luck. But whatever the reason, his team had been racing so much better since she’d been around. She had to accept that good luck for Dylan was bad luck for her.

Nothing but more pain could result if she hung around accepting public kisses and private loving that meant the world to her and so little to him. They hadn’t
spoken again about the two weeks’ notice, but when he got her letter, he’d understand.

So she watched, choosing not to be hooked in by the headset so she could overhear Dylan talking to his team. Right now, she only wanted to watch as his car stayed glued to the rest of the pack. She knew now it was called riding the draft, using the aerodynamics of the cars in front to suck him forward.

She waited as long as she could. Dylan made his final pit stop and there was maybe an hour to go in the race.

When she climbed down off the hauler, no one noticed, or if they did would think she was going to the restroom or to take a walk.

D
YLAN’S WORLD
telescoped into the track ahead. Heat, dust, noise, some kind of rattling he didn’t like the sound of and hoped would go away if he ignored it. Thirty laps to go. Come on. Hang in there, he silently ordered.

“Something’s going on,” he told his crew chief a few minutes later. “Something’s rattling and it feels like the back end’s loose.”

“Fifteen laps. Take her easy.”

“Yeah.”

He was holding his position, but it was all he could do. There’d be no screaming to victory today. All he could hope for was a top-ten finish and that he didn’t stop dead in the middle of the track with only a few laps to go.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said softly, knowing that Kendall was out there watching, his superserious darling of a good-luck charm. Thinking about her made
him relax a little. There wasn’t anything he could do, anyway. When the race was over and he was all cleaned up, he’d take her out somewhere nice. Only the two of them, and see if he could charm her out of her truly terrible notion of leaving.

Now that they’d become intimate, how could she even think of going? She wasn’t a quitter. He’d make her see that leaving now would put not only him but the whole team in a bad position. She wasn’t the kind of woman to let people she cared about down. And she did care about him.

A prickle of discomfort brushed his spine. She cared about him a lot. He knew that. Truth was, he cared about her, too, but he wasn’t a settling-down man. By now she must be able to see that.

Who’d want a guy with a messed-up background like his anyhow? A man who was going around in circles like the cars on this track? This was the only thing he was really good at. Couldn’t she see that? He’d suck at being a family man.

He needed to see her, though. The laps couldn’t roar by fast enough. In spite of the ominous rattle and the excellent advice to take it easy, he didn’t take it easy. He pushed it, reaching for a little more speed. A little more juice. Enough to get to Kendall before she did anything crazy.

And then more luck showered down on him. Bad luck, to be sure, but bad luck directed at another driver. The very thing he’d dreaded happening to him instead got somebody else. He passed one poor sucker who’d run out of gas. It happened. And two stock cars that had been too close to pull back got caught, too.

And Dylan found himself rattling all the way to the finish line, landing himself a fourth-place finish.

Not bad, he thought with a grin.

Not bad at all.

He hauled himself out and blinked, momentarily unsteady on his feet. He had a strange moment of dizziness and blinked again. Maybe his eyes were cloudy from fatigue but he had an instant’s vision of Kendall running toward him, like in a movie clip, so even as he saw her he knew she wasn’t real, even though he felt himself running toward her as in a dream. There were three kids running behind her, and he knew in his gut they were his kids. His and Kendall’s. He had never felt such joy in his life as he did in that moment. His sight cleared almost immediately and he found himself wishing the vision had remained a little longer—so he could get closer to his family. However, though the noise and crowds and the post-race craziness started up again around him, his sense of certainty remained. Kendall wasn’t just his lucky charm—she was his destiny.

He sprinted toward his crew, his gaze sweeping the area looking for the woman he’d so nearly lost. Where was she? Urgency gripped him when he didn’t immediately spot her.

“Nice going, Dy,” Mike said.

“Thanks. Where’s Kendall?” he yelled.

His crew chief gazed around. “I don’t know. She was here before.”

He jogged through the craziness, but he didn’t see her. He checked with the closest security guard, who said, “Dylan. That nice young gal you keep kissing left this for you.”

An awful coldness settled in his gut.

He took the envelope and said, “Thanks,” but he felt no gratitude. His name in Kendall’s neat handwriting filled him with dread. She’d even sealed the envelope.

Premeditated was what he thought as he ripped it open and pulled out a one-page letter. She’d planned on leaving. Because he knew, the minute he saw the letter, that she was already gone.

“How long ago did she give you this?” he asked, having read through the message.

“’Bout an hour ago.”

“G
OOD RACE
, Dy.”

“Thanks, Carl. You, too,” Dylan said, belatedly remembering that Carl Edwards had come in ahead of him in the number-three spot.

“Everything okay?”

Edwards might be a good ol’ boy lady charmer, but he was also a friend. And right now, with the way Dylan felt, as if somebody’d taken a tire iron to his knees, he could use a friend.

Unable to explain, he handed over Kendall’s letter.

Carl glanced at it and read aloud.

Carl glanced up and said, “Show me a guy who doesn’t.”

“Read the rest of it.” Maybe if he heard it aloud he could take in the message.

Carl passed the letter back, with a look on his face that suggested he didn’t have a clue what to say.

“What kind of way is that to say goodbye?” Dylan sputtered, suddenly angry. “She doesn’t even end the letter properly. No
sincerely,
no
regards,
no
love, Kendall.
”

“She didn’t need to say it, Dy. The love is all over that note.”

Dylan snorted. “Where?”

“See this part here? Where the paper got wet?” He pointed to a splotch on the white page that Dylan hadn’t noticed.

“Yeah.”

“She was crying.”

“You think?”

“Like a baby.”

He blew out a breath. “Then why didn’t she stay?”

“You know why. And if you don’t, go down and ask any driver here. Even better, ask their wives or girlfriends. She loves you, Dy. And she isn’t the kind of woman to hang around if you don’t love her back.”

Dylan snatched the letter, which was getting grimy since neither of them had showered yet. “I’m taking dating advice from a guy who guest-starred on a soap opera.”

Carl laughed. He was obviously not a man who was torn apart by a woman who wanted more than he had to offer. “I’m still trying to figure out women. But since you asked, here’s what you gotta do. Figure out what is stopping you from falling on your knees and begging that great girl to marry you.”

“I can’t—”

“And when you figure it out, you fall on your knees and you ask her, real nice.”

“But—”

“’Cause if you don’t, there’s plenty of men around who could use your luck.”

He wasn’t talking about racing luck, and they both knew it.

Dylan replaced the letter in the envelope. “I messed up, didn’t I?”

“Big-time.”

And with a slap on the back, Edwards walked on.

He’d messed up bad.