This Time, Forever (6 page)

T
HE TRACK
was every bit as crazy as she'd thought it would be. Since it was Saturday, race traffic wasn't horrible, and she left early enough that she didn't have to worry about a rush of people clogging up the entrances. Still, it took her a moment to find a parking spot in front of the white credential trailer. Cars came and went inside the enclosed area. Sharon was right outside the entrance, looking crisp and professional in her tan slacks and Shelter Home Improvement polo shirt that was the same green as their logo.

“These are for Linc,” she said, handing Marley a bundle of the same shirts.

“Thanks,” Marley said. Linc's PR representative had been asking for the shirts from the moment they'd agreed to the sponsorship deal.

“Marley,” Sharon said, “this is Tim Atkinson, he's our CFO. Brett Miller, our COO…”

Marley tried to pay attention. She was usually pretty good at matching faces with names, but for some reason she found it hard to focus. “Why don't you follow me inside,” she said. “You can fill out your forms in there.”

The track at Kansas was situated out in the middle of a vast plain—but so was most of Kansas, Marley thought. In any event, wind was frequently a factor
and today was no exception. The warm October breeze smacked her in the face as she led the Shelter Home Improvement group inside. Given the number of people she had to check in, NASCAR processed their paperwork in record time and so it was only a matter of minutes before Marley was waiting for Sharon and company to hop into their car so they could follow her into the infield.

Where she would see Linc.

Her stomach felt like a Chinese knot all of a sudden. Her mouth went dry. Her palms began to sweat. What would she say to him? she thought as she passed through the infield tunnel. How would he act toward her? She hadn't heard from him since they'd said goodbye in the Double S parking lot, not that she was surprised. She'd made it clear on the ride home that their “affair” was over.

Brenda, Linc's PR rep, greeted them outside the garage area, Marley performing the introductions. She was never more relieved than when she handed over control of the group to Brenda, explaining to Sharon that she had some things to do while Brenda took them on tour. Before she trotted off, Brenda handed her a sheet of paper.

“Linc's itinerary today,” she said.

Marley swallowed, but she waited until the group walked away before glancing down at the piece of paper.

 

Interview with KBNT @ station—12:00 p.m.

 

Marley's shoulders relaxed. He wasn't even at the track. Not yet, at least. He was due to return in a couple
hours, in time for the final practice session, but now that she had his schedule, she could avoid him all day. All she had to do was make sure she was far away from wherever he was.

Simple.

That's exactly how it worked out, too. She ran around the track without fear of bumping into him. She even finagled her way out of the Shelter Home Improvement sponsor party that night, pleading exhaustion. Everyone knew how hard she'd worked to get the i's dotted and the t's crossed before this weekend's race, so nobody batted an eye. Gil was there to take the lead.

Race day would be different. She knew that. Dreaded that. Fell into a restless sleep because of what she knew she'd go through tomorrow.

It wouldn't be fun.

 

I
N SPITE
of a few unique characteristics, Kansas looked a lot like a number of race tracks on the circuit. The layout was familiar—garages on the frontstretch, infield parking along the back. Even the grandstands looked the same as other tracks. Massive steel and aluminum girders held together stands that would seat thousands of fans. Those seats were mostly empty when she showed up early in the morning, but she knew they would quickly fill up the closer the time approached noon.

Of course, there would be no avoiding Linc that day. Sure enough, first person she ran into was the person she hoped most to avoid.

He was standing outside the hauler in his civies (as Marley liked to call them), his civilian clothes. Still, he was instantly recognizable. Nothing illustrated that better than the crowd of race fans that hung back from
him as he talked to Bob Danson, his crew chief. They must have been discussing the handling of the car because Linc was using his fingers to demonstrate what his car was doing as it rounded a corner—or so it looked to Marley. She ducked her head and hoped he hadn't noticed her.

She should have known better.

“Marley, I need to talk to you.”

Marley nodded a greeting to his crew chief before saying, “What about?” in what she hoped was a chipper-sounding voice.

“In private,” he added.

She glanced at Bob again. The crew chief stared at her blankly. “I'll see what I can do about that problem during the first pit stop,” Bob said.

“Thanks,” Linc said before focusing his attention on her—but not before half a dozen fans came up to him and begged for an autograph. And here was all the proof Marley needed. Mixed into that crowd were several stunningly beautiful women. For a moment she wondered if they were all together, but they weren't. Two were with dates…or husbands. One appeared to be by herself. Apparently, fans hadn't forgotten about him. Good for Linc.

But it was hard to watch those women smile up at Linc as if they hoped he'd give them more than his autograph. Yes, even the married ones.

And that's exactly why you shouldn't date Linc. Even if you overcame your own moral obligations to your brother, there was still this to deal with. Still the fact that he was famous and you'd always have to play second fiddle to the first love of his life: racing.

“Why don't I catch up to you later?” she asked.

“No,” he instantly contradicted, his gaze on the piece of paper he signed. “I'll be done here in a second if you just hold on.”

“Good to see you back,” one of the fans—an older, gray-haired man wearing sunglasses said. He wore a red-and-white Linc Shepherd shirt…one from the old days. “How's the leg?”

“Good,” Linc said, his pen moving across the photograph the man held. He turned without ever really meeting the man's eyes to sign something else.

“Can't wait to see you in Victory Lane,” another person said.

They loved him. Marley could understand why. The former NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champion had a winning smile and an easy way. She knew first-hand the power of that smile—had fallen in love with it when she was younger.

Love?

She shied away from the thought. She'd been too young to know what love was.

And now…

“Over here,” Linc said, drawing her toward the back of the hauler. It was cooler beneath the shadow of the car lift that hung like a swinging garage door above their heads. She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of the sliding glass doors. She wore one of the new Shelter Home Improvement shirts, and the color didn't suit her skin. She looked pale. Of course, that could just be stress.

“I'm going to call you next week so we can schedule a date.”

She drew back in shock. “What?”

“This is stupid, Marley. I don't know about you, but I can't stop thinking about the other night—”

“Linc—”

“Shh,” he said. “Let me finish. I know there's a few obstacles to overcome…”

A few?
she wanted to ask.

“But we're two mature adults. We can work it out.”

Marley looked up. Gil, a commanding figure in the garage, was walking toward them. He was only in his early forties, but he wore power like an invisible suit. Heads turned as he walked by, and not just because he was as recognizable as his drivers. No. It was his fit body and his purposeful stride. He walked up to them.

“Hey, Linc,” he said with a nod.

“Gil,” he said.

And therein lie the crux of the problem. Her brother was Linc's boss. If he caught wind of their affair, she couldn't imagine he'd be pleased. She'd made a fool of herself over Linc once before. Her brother would worry that she'd do something rash yet again…and maybe he'd be right. Gosh. She didn't know what to think.

“Marley,” her brother said, a smile coming over his face.

“Hey, you,” she said with an answering grin.

“Thanks for sticking around this weekend.”

“You're welcome.” She'd rather be at home.

“Are you feeling good about today?” her brother asked his new star driver.

“You bet,” Linc said with a wide smile.

“Good,” Gil said with a nod. “How's the leg holding up?”

Marley could tell the question bothered Linc. He was
probably tired of people mentioning it. “Feels fine,” he said.

“Then I expect you to win.”

“Gonna try,” he said.

“You going to watch the race from pit road or our suite?” Gil asked her.

Marley instantly shook her head. “I'm going to head back to the hotel.”

She caught Linc staring at her.

“Right now,” she added.

“Now?” Gil asked, surprised.

“I'm tired, Gil,” she said. “And there's really no need for me to stay.” But she was talking to Linc, and he knew it. “Brenda has things under control with the Shelter Home Improvement people, and I need to catch up on some sleep. If I leave early, I might actually get home in time to get some rest.”

Her brother nodded, concern clouding his eyes. “No problem,” he said. “But you're going to miss Linc's big debut.”

“I know,” she said. “But he'll do fine.”

When she dared to meet Linc's gaze, it was clear he wasn't happy. Gil stared between the two of them, his frown causing lines to form above his brows. “Call me when you get home.”

Did he sense something between them? Her brother was no fool, and he'd known her for her entire life. Just the other day he'd reminded her of the raging crush she'd had on Linc all those years ago. That car she'd set on fire had
not
been one of her better teenage moments.

“'Bye, Linc,” Marley said, trying to throw her brother off the scent. “Be safe this afternoon.”

“Marley,” he said.

But she walked away before he gave the game away.

I'm going to call you later this week.

Would he? And what would she do if he did?

S
HE WATCHED
the race from the airport while waiting standby for the next flight home. Part of that race, anyway. She missed the last half and so it wasn't until she landed that she learned Linc had finished fourteenth.

Not bad.

She was happy for him. And even happier for her brother. She just hoped Linc didn't do as he threatened and call her that week.

He did something worse.

He dropped by her office. “We need to talk,” he said, slamming her door closed.

“Congratulations on a great finish,” she said.

“Fourteenth is
not
a great finish,” he said, advancing toward her.

She sat behind her desk, but she felt like a lion tamer in the middle of a circus ring, and this feral animal had her firmly in his sights.

“Linc—”

“Quiet,” he said.

“I beg your par—”

He jerked her to him. She gasped, used her body as a counterweight. He managed to get her out of her chair just the same, the plastic seat spinning out from under her.

“Don't,” she told him.

“Sorry. I can't seem to help myself,” he said, just before he lowered his head.

Her whole body had come alive. Her lips tingled in anticipation. Her breath caught.

It was just as she remembered.

She'd wondered if their night together had been an illusion, if the fact that she'd had a couple glasses of champagne had clouded her perception. It hadn't. If anything, it'd dulled it because kissing Linc in her office was better that morning than it'd been in the hotel room.

Because she knew what he could do to her.

She remembered every exquisite way he'd elicited pleasure. Felt her whole body curve into him in anticipation. She wanted those feelings again, wanted to know the touch of his hands, the feel of his lips against the sensitive skin near her belly.

“No,” she moaned, pulling back. Dear God, what if her brother walked in? “Linc, no,” she said when it appeared as if he was coming back for more.

“We're not going to fight this, Marley.”

“Yes, we are,” she said. “Damn it, Linc. This is madness.”

“You want to know what's crazy?” he asked. “What's crazy is that yesterday was my first day back in a race car in years, and I did well. But the joy I felt at placing fourteenth ran a distant second to how I felt in your arms.”

She couldn't breathe for a moment, felt her resolve weakening.

“Spend the day with me,” he said.

“Linc, you know I can't. I have work to do. And I left the track early yesterday. If I do something rash, like
leave with you on my arm, my brother will surely hear about it.”

“So?”

She shook her head. “I can't.”

“We can,” he said. “Meet me for lunch, then. We'll call it business.”

She was tempted. Oh, how she was tempted. But she just couldn't see her way past all the obstacles. She'd promised Gil. Darn it, she owed it to her brother to stay away from his star driver, at least while he was trying to make his big comeback.

“I'm not taking no for an answer, but if it'll make you feel any better, I'll call Emma-Lee and have her arrange it. That way, it'll look more official. We can discuss business.”

No, she couldn't. She really, really shouldn't.

But she wanted to. She remembered what it felt like to have his mouth cover hers. She'd fantasized about what it would be like to be kissed by him for too many years to walk away from him now. She tried to remain strong, to keep resisting him, but the look in his gray eyes was her undoing. They burned into her own…taunting her, challenging her, reminding her.

“Okay, fine,” she said.

Because if she were honest with herself, she'd never really stood a chance.

 

T
HEY NEVER MADE IT
to the restaurant. Linc stopped on the side of the road—the two of them having left in separate cars—and asked if she'd rather eat lunch at his house. Of course, she knew what he was really asking, and all it took was one look into his heated eyes to convince her to follow him.

She was such a fool.

It was like playing with fire. For a moment she wondered if that wasn't part of the allure. He was forbidden. Off limits. Someone she should avoid at all cost, but she'd always had a thing for Linc and so maybe that wasn't it at all.

Linc's home was in the opposite direction of most of the NASCAR community. It was still off Davidson Highway, but east of most of the race shops. As she pulled between the brick pillars that guarded the entrance to his home, she found herself thinking racing had been good to him. Nothing illustrated that better than the home he lived in. It appeared to be one story, but it sprawled along the top of a hill overlooking a green valley. Secluded, sheltered and set back from the road, it was like a seashell set atop a beach, especially with the granite rocks that framed the lower third of its walls. Windows peeked out, scores of them, all at different angles. The exterior was painted a soft pink that should have looked out of place in the south, but that somehow worked in this setting. Billowy clouds hung overhead, causing the valley below to be dotted by gray shadows.

“It's beautiful,” she said, slipping from her car.

“I know,” he said, but he wasn't looking at the house, he was looking at her.

Marley knew they wouldn't be eating lunch then, especially when he kissed her. That was all it took—just one touch and food was the furthest thing from her mind. His mind, too, it seemed.

“Let's go inside,” he said, drawing back and holding out his hand.

They walked, hand in hand, toward his home.

 

S
HE AGREED
to a secret affair. That way, if things didn't work out, her brother would never know about it and she wouldn't have to live her life hearing his “I told you so” over and over again. And so they became coworkers in the office by day, lovers by night.

“You've certainly got a glow about you,” her brother said, popping his head into her office.

It was the Monday after the California race, her brother completely oblivious to the fact that Marley had flown in to be with Linc before and after the race. It was a simple matter to get there via a commercial flight. Simpler still to keep to herself in Linc's motor home. As it turned out, it was a good thing she'd made the trip. Linc had wrecked early in the race. He'd managed to limp home in second-to-last place and so, fortunately, Marley had been around to distract him.

“Maybe I'm pregnant,” Marley quipped, not because she was serious—they were taking precautions—but because she enjoyed the momentary look of horror on her brother's face.

“You're kidding, right?” he asked, his blue eyes widening.

Marley shook her head. “When would I have time to get pregnant?” she asked.

Gil's face immediately softened.

“Besides, you need to be dating someone before you can get pregnant.”

It was a blatant attempt to throw him off target, and it worked. “You're right,” he said. “You really don't have much of a social life.” He cocked his head sideways. “Why is that?”

“Because you keep me too busy for that.”

He stared at her, a perplexed look on his face. “Do I?” he asked.

“You do,” she said. “But I guess that's partly my fault. I could back off my work schedule if I got serious about a guy.” It was the perfect opportunity to feel Gil out, to see if he'd mind her dating Linc and so she said, “How would you feel about me dating someone in the industry?”

“Are you?” he asked.

She nibbled her lip for a moment.

“No,” she said quickly. “Of course not. I hardly have the time.”

But she hated…she absolutely
hated
to lie.

“So this is a hypothetical question?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I guess it depends on the man. And if I thought he was good enough for you.”

She smiled weakly. Would he think Linc was good enough for her? He'd hired him as a driver and so he must respect him on some level. She almost told him then…almost. Something held her back because deep down inside there was a part of her that worried…what if it didn't work out? What if she told her brother everything and in the end Linc broke her heart? And God forbid their mother ever find out. It was bad enough Marley actually worked for a living…at least in her mother's eyes. Heaven help them all if Marley dated a grease monkey. That's how her mother would see Linc, no matter his actual job. What would happen when the truth came out?

She didn't want to find out.

“Then I guess I'll have to pick the right man,” she said absently.

She had a feeling her brother knew something was afoot. Intelligent, highly educated, he didn't get to the top of the NASCAR game by being stupid. So she wasn't surprised when he came forward, rested his hands against the front of her desk. “If you have someone in mind,” he said, “be careful, little sis. Some guys might want to use you to get close to me.”

She drew back in surprise. Was that what Linc was doing? Was he using her to solidify his place at Double S Racing?

No.

That was ridiculous.

“You know how it is,” he said. “Some men will do whatever they can to get to the top and so I'll be honest. If you dated someone within the NASCAR industry, it'd have to be someone pretty high up. Someone already well established.”

Marley gulped. She didn't live with her head in the sand by any means. She was trying to be realistic where Linc was concerned, but she just didn't see him as the type that would use her. Not like that. Maybe that was naive, but she'd like to think she was a good judge of character.

“Well then, you'll be relieved to know you have nothing to worry about.” She almost added that she
wasn't
dating a driver, but she couldn't be that dishonest. “I duly promise to date only men at the top of the heap.”

Still, Gil looked at her suspiciously. “Your choice,” he said.

And it was. She just hoped it was the right choice.

 

A
WEEK PASSED
. Marley secretly accompanied Linc to yet another race, this one in Charlotte, and to be honest,
she was getting a little tired of it all. She lived in fear that she'd bump into Gil. If things worked out between her and Linc, she wanted to be the one to tell Gil. She didn't want him to get the news second hand. And God help her if her mother popped in for a visit.

But she had bigger fish to fry. Linc was in a slump.

Hard to imagine calling a man a failure after only three races, but that's exactly what the media did. They claimed he was washed up. That he had no business being back in a race car. That he should hang up his steering wheel and maybe try car ownership instead.

“I feel like doing exactly that,” Linc said, despondent, his face in deep shadows. It was near midnight, as the mid-autumn race held had been at night. They stood just outside his motor home. Beneath giant klieg lights, Marley could see that the grandstands were slowly emptying of race fans. It was a local race and so at least Marley was close to home.

“Linc,” she said softly, glancing around to ensure her brother wasn't walking up to them. Even at this time of night, the Drivers' and Owners' parking lot was well lit.

“Give it time. You know how it is with a new team.”

“Yeah, but these days owners expect results right away.”

That was true, she thought, glancing around. The parking area was a city unto itself. Even though the race was close to home, most of the drivers and their crew members kept motor homes nearby, as places where they could rest and relax away from the garage throughout the weekend. Buses and recreational vehicles covered every square inch of the blacktop. She and Linc were relatively excluded. Still…her brother
could appear at any moment. He'd even parked his car near Linc's motor home.

“Gil's not like that,” Marley said, growing more and more tense by the minute. She'd followed Linc back from the garage, but she knew time was short. The haulers would begin pulling out at any moment. Beyond the Drivers' and Owners' lot, she could hear a stream of cars and recreational vehicles leaving the track.

“I sure hope not,” he said, staring off into the distance.

And Marley's heart broke for him. She could see such a mix of emotion on his face. Sadness. Resignation.
Fear.

“Linc, it's okay,” she said, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. Damn it. She wanted to slip into his arms, to ease the ache in his eyes. But she couldn't. Not here. “Just focus on next week.”

He nodded. “But that would be easier to do…with you by my side.”

“I
am
by your side,” she said.

“Not like I want you to be.”

She knew what he meant, glanced around to make sure they were alone before stepping closer. More than a few people were returning from the garage. A few buses down, one of the diesel engines revved to life. Before long, team members would start to roll out, some in regular vehicles, others in their motor home. They didn't have much time.

“Give it a few weeks,” Marley said. A few weeks for her to decide if this would all shake out. “Talk to Gil tomorrow. Explain how hard you're trying. I'm sure he'll understand.”

He nodded, looked off into the distance. She knew he
was thinking about the race he'd just run. He'd finished thirty-ninth. Awful…especially for a man used to being on top, it was hell to find himself at the bottom of the score board.

“I just hate to think he might believe I've lost my touch.”

And this was the hard part of the business, the part most magazines and e-zines didn't talk about. How demoralizing it was to the drivers who weren't performing well. How even the most talented driver could be reduced to an insecure mess. But most of all, how a driver would beat himself up when he wasn't driving up to an owner's standards. Linc's situation was complicated by that plane crash. The tragic accident had taken more than the lives of his friends.