MIKE MORGAN SAT next to her. And they were going to the beach.
He sat next to her.
Yes, he’d sat next to her before, but that had been in a professional environment. This was different. For one thing, she could smell him. He smelled like cinnamon and cedar. She loved cinnamon.
She glanced over at Mike, and when she did, she caught him looking at her, the expression on his face one of thoughtful consideration.
“How long have you worked for Miracles?”
“About eight years,” she answered. Okay, this she could handle. As long as they kept things impersonal, she could keep her mind off things that were distinctly personal—like how long his fingers were. And how rock hard his thighs looked—
Maggie.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” It was the best job in the world…and the worst. The kids they worked with were so sick, more than a few of them didn’t make it. When that happened it was like losing a close friend. Frankly, it sucked.
“Indi tells me it’s a tough job.”
Indi was her best friend and fellow Miracles worker. Although that was due to change, too, Maggie thought with a pang of sadness. Indi would be moving to North Carolina right after she got married. In the next few weeks Maggie would have to find someone to take her place, although to be honest, Indi could never be replaced.
“It is,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder why I do it.”
Cripes. Had she said that aloud?
“You do it because you’re special,” he said. “And all I can say is thank you for doing a job not many people want to do.”
She had spoken the words aloud. “Thanks,” she said, the edginess returning.
Darn it. Why did he make her feel this way? She’d met plenty of other good-looking celebrities before. Why was Mike Morgan different?
“Um, when’d you meet Indi?” Maggie asked to help cover her discomfort.
“At the awards banquet last year.”
She looked away, felt her tummy flutter, knew that her face burned. Why was he having this effect on her?
But she knew why he affected her this way.
He might not drive stock cars anymore, he might not be as famous as he once was, but the sheen of his successes clung to him in a way that turned Maggie on. She’d reasoned out long ago that that was why she—and millions of other women—lusted after him. He’d been one of the biggest names of the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series before the accident off the track that had stolen part of the vision in his left eye.
“How long have you been with Helping Hands?” she asked.
“Since May.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s a job.”
She could tell it wasn’t a job he wanted. Oh, she didn’t doubt he enjoyed working for a charity organization just as she did, but she could tell he wanted to do something else.
Drive.
So the rumors that he was talking to people about racing again were true. Interesting.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he added. “I love helping people, but I miss being at the track.”
And in that, they were vastly different. Maggie loved her job. She could never see herself doing something different. Yeah, the pay wasn’t all that great, but each time she helped grant the wish of a terminally ill child, she was reminded of what was important in life. She had her health and happiness. So did her daughter. She couldn’t ask for more.
“Do you think you’ll find another ride?”
Another ride. NASCAR lingo for being hired to drive another car. Amazing how much she’d learned in her few short years as a fan.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “After the accident, my team owner promised I’d have a job when I got better. I even went and had surgery that is supposed to restore my vision, although we won’t know the results of that for a few weeks yet. My owner doesn’t want to put me back in a car with my vision being the way it is. I’ve done some testing for other owners, but they all say the same thing—wait until we get the test results back. They’re too afraid of me wrecking and so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Before his accident he’d been one of the best. A legend. She’d had no idea he’d been more or less forced into retirement.
“I heard you might be forming your own race team.”
He nodded, glancing at her again. She’d started to breathe normally, the hands she’d placed in her lap relaxing atop her jeans. He was just a man, she reminded herself. Someone who’d had ups and downs, like her. It made him seem real. That, she realized, was part of her attraction to him. When she’d first met him she’d been surprised at how down-to-earth he was. The second time she’d met him, just this past Friday, she’d admitted to herself that she could get herself into some serious trouble obsessing over him at night. How ironic that she’d end up sitting next to him the very next day.
“Well, whatever you end up doing, Mike, I wish you luck.”
Try to remember, Maggie, that he comes from a different world than your own. One day, he might be back in the limelight. He might once again make it to the top of his field. She hoped that he did, but she knew that life would never include her. She almost laughed at herself. As if she had a chance at catching his interest.
“Where is it you wanted to go?” she asked, because talking about what he did for a living depressed her. “You know, after we drive by the beach.”
“I promised a friend of mine I’d look in on someone while I was here.”
“Oh.”
“You don’t mind tagging along with me, do you?”
She supposed at this point she really didn’t have a choice. “No.”
“Good. I hear the speedway in Watsonville is a nice track. You’ll be able to sit in some nice grandstands if you want.”
“What did you say?”
He smiled. “Speedway. We’re going to a race.”