TOM HAD HIS HOUSE BACK. And it felt great. Turning from the door he had just closed behind his guests, he glanced around the paper-and-ribbon-strewn living room, deciding on the spot that he would never allow his home to be used that way again. No matter whose career it benefited.
Melissa returned then from the kitchen, where she had just checked to make sure everything in there was cleared away. Her expression was serene, but he thought he saw emotions roiling in her eyes. Despite her attempt to hide it, Melissa was still angry, he decided, studying her more closely.
He cleared his throat. “He started it.”
Her voice was cool when she replied, “I’m aware of that. And you handled it pretty well, considering. Your publicist would be proud.”
So it wasn’t the confrontation with Dan that was still bothering her, he concluded. She was still steamed about the quarrel they’d had prior to the arrival of their guests.
Kneading the back of his neck, he said, “About the things I said earlier—”
“Actually, I’ve decided you were right,” she surprised him by saying, bending to gather a handful of torn wrapping paper.
He watched her uncertainly. “About…?”
“About our relationship.” Stuffing the paper into a garbage bag, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she faced him, looking somehow nervous and resolute at the same time. “You were right.”
Now he was just confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“We’re too tied up in our careers, you and I. You’re a driver, and I represent your primary sponsor. It’s a complicated situation we should have acknowledged from the beginning.”
“Okay, we’ve acknowledged it can get sticky. We’ll just have to make sure it doesn’t.”
She shook her head, and now she looked more sad than angry. Which made his chest go so tight he found himself having a bit of trouble breathing. “It’s not going to work, Tom,” she said.
“What’s—what’s not going to work?”
“Us.”
He tugged at his open shirt collar, wondering how it had suddenly gotten so tight. “Don’t say that. We’ll work it out.”
“No.” She blinked, as if forcefully keeping her eyes dry. “We can’t. Not when you never know when I’m being your girlfriend and when I’m the sponsor. Not when you feel like our relationship depends on your performance on the track, or in front of the cameras. Not when so many people have wondered what would happen to us if RightTime and Shaw Racing decide to go their separate ways in the future—and neither of us could ever give them a definite answer.”
“Whatever anyone might have said to you, I have never seen you as a way to secure my sponsorship,” he said flatly, willing her to believe him.
“I know,” she whispered. “We’ve hardly seen each other at all, have we?”
“Melissa—”
She moved abruptly toward the door. “I need to go. I’ll send someone tomorrow to clear away the rest of the mess and the decorations.”
He caught her arm, feeling as if he were in a spinning car over which he had no control. “Don’t go. Let’s talk about this.”
She looked at his hand on her arm, and then slowly up at his face. “I’m sorry, Tom. I just really need to go.”
To get where he was in his life, he had fought, schemed, sweated and persevered. He had never once begged. Because he found himself entirely too close to doing so now, he released her arm without another word. Catching her breath, she turned and rushed out the door, letting it slam behind her.
Sinking onto the couch, Tom looked at the Christmas tree, which looked rather bare and abandoned now that the holiday was pretty much over.
He knew exactly how that felt.
“IT’S A SHAME Tom couldn’t join us today,” Nancy Hampton said as she and Melissa sat in Nancy’s living room, sipping hot tea in the glow of the tiny white lights that draped the massive tree and nearly every other part of the room.
Nancy’s house had been professionally decked out for the holiday parties she’d given, every room coordinated in white and silver decorations. She hadn’t had to lift a finger, which, to Melissa, wasn’t nearly as much fun as doing the holiday trimming oneself. She’d had a lovely time doing Tom’s house, she thought wistfully. They’d had an absolutely beautiful setting in which to break up.
“Yes, well, he said to send his regrets,” Melissa fibbed, keeping her eyes on the bedecked fireplace in which a small gas fire burned tidily.
“I’m glad the contest came off okay,” Nancy murmured, stretching her long, slender legs in front of her, her stocking feet crossed on a dainty footstool. “I have to confess I was concerned about it. There were so many things that could have gone wrong.”
So many things had gone wrong, Melissa thought with a pang. She hadn’t yet been able to tell her parents that she and Tom were finished. She just couldn’t make herself say the words out loud yet. “Yes, it took a lot of work to bring it off. But the LeMays seemed satisfied and the PR photos will look great for the company. And for Tom.”
“He certainly needed that.” Nancy shook her head in tolerant exasperation. “To be such a nice man, he certainly has an unfortunate tendency to show his worst side when things go wrong, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. He does. He’s trying to do better.”
“I know. He’s worked very hard the past month to do everything his owner and sponsors have asked of him. Now if only he can keep this up next season, despite how he does on the track.”
“I’m sure he will. And I expect that he’ll have a good season next year. The new crew chief is working very hard to rebuild the team and get them back into Victory Lane. Tom’s one of the best drivers in the sport. He won’t stay down for long.”
Maybe he would do even better this year, without the distraction of trying to maintain a long-distance relationship, Melissa thought sadly.
“You’ve always been his most ardent supporter,” her mother replied with a smile. “So, did the two of you have a chance to talk about the future while you were together, or did you let yourself get too bogged down in the details of the contest?”
“The, uh, future?”
“Yes. You don’t plan to keep drifting along just seeing each other once a month or so, the way you have been, do you? It’s obvious that you’re good together. You’re a positive influence on him—and the reverse is also true. He gives you something to think about besides your work. So when are you going to take things to the next level? Make the relationship more official?”
“I, um—” Melissa looked down into her teacup, unable to come up with anything coherent to say.
“Melissa?” Her mother set her own cup aside, an expression of concern on her perfectly made-up face. “What’s wrong? Have you and Tom had a falling-out?”
Swallowing hard, Melissa confessed, “We broke up. Specifically, I broke it off.”
“You? But, honey, why? You seemed so crazy about him.”
“That hasn’t changed.”
“Then why did you break up with him?”
“He accused me of trying to control him. He told me he didn’t know when I was being his girlfriend and when I was acting as vice president of RightTime Realty.” And the very worst thing he had done was to let her leave, she thought, unable to say those words aloud because she knew exactly how irrational they sounded.
“Oh, my. That did get ugly, didn’t it?”
Melissa nodded miserably.
Her mother rested a hand on her arm. “It isn’t easy being an ambitious woman with a somewhat obsessive need to take charge, is it? I’m speaking, of course, from experience.”
“I didn’t try to control Tom,” she answered defensively.
“Not consciously, I’m sure. But maybe you thought you had to remind him a few times what was expected of him during the Christmas event? And maybe sometimes you do slip into your professional persona when you should be concentrating on your personal life?”
Melissa shook her head stubbornly. “It isn’t possible for me to compartmentalize myself that way. My job is a part of who I am. I don’t leave it behind just because the clock strikes five or some other arbitrary quitting time. Tom’s always a driver. It’s who he is, the way he identifies himself. No one expects anything different of him.”
“Nor should they of you. But we all have to prioritize sometimes between our careers and the people we love. I’ve had to do so often. There were times, I’m afraid, when I had to choose the job over a dance recital or a parent-teacher meeting or a family vacation. But on the whole, I hope you and your father have always realized that both of you will always come first for me when it truly matters.”
“So you’re saying that the problems between Tom and me were all my fault?”
Her mother smiled and shook her head. “Oh, no. I’ve met the young man in question many times, remember? I’m quite sure he contributed more than his fair share to the conflicts. I just want you to take your time and make sure you know exactly what you want before you burn any bridges behind you.”
“I’ll think about what you said,” Melissa agreed quietly, subconsciously lifting her hand to the diamond pendant at her throat. “But the bridges may already be burned.”
“That will be up to you and Tom to figure out, I suppose. Just know that I’m here for you, if you need me. Always.”
“I love you, Mother.”
“And I love you.” Her mother kissed her cheek and then patted her arm again. “Why don’t we go have some more of that delicious pecan pie the chef made for our belated Christmas dinner. I think we deserve to be sinful today.”
“Sounds good to me,” Melissa agreed with a slight smile, though part of her mind was preoccupied with the advice her mother had given her.
WATER LAPPED GENTLY at the rocks at Tom’s feet. It was a chilly afternoon, but he was comfortable enough in his coat, sweatshirt and jeans, his hands shoved into sheepskin-lined pockets. He was a lot colder on the inside than he was on the outside, he thought glumly.
“Some would say the week between Christmas and New Year’s is a strange time for a man to take a lonely vacation at a nearly deserted Missouri fishing resort,” Dan LeMay said behind him. “Especially a guy who could afford to go to the Riviera or some fancy Mexican resort. Or, if he wanted winter fun, to some snooty ski resort in Colorado or Utah.”
“I’ve never particularly liked fancy and I don’t do snooty,” Tom drawled, reaching down to pick up a rock and toss it into the wind-lapped surface of the lake. “Besides, I wanted to see this place you sank your life savings into. You made it sound pretty special.”
“Well? What do you think?” There was just a hint of anxiety in the other man’s voice, as if it mattered to him what Tom thought.
Because he believed it did matter to Dan, Tom took the time to look around before he responded. The resort was small, but tidy, with cozy cottages grouped around a central compound that held picnic tables and a playground area in addition to the pool that was closed for the season. Only a couple of the cabins were occupied at the moment by diehard fishermen who didn’t mind the cold if there was a chance of landing a few bass. The boat dock and a combination office–convenience store–bait shop building sat lakeside, the entrance decorated with a big, cheery Christmas wreath. An immaculately kept, double-wide mobile home with a built-on wooden deck and rough cedar underpinnings served as the LeMays’ home.
“It’s a great place. I can see why you were willing to make the sacrifices you’ve made to own it.”
Dan smiled. “Yeah. Maybe someday it will even be worth it all.”
Tom shrugged. “Isn’t it worth it now, really?”
“Yeah.” Pride in his expression, Dan looked around. “I guess it is.”
He turned back to Tom then. “You sure made my family’s week by showing up here. The kids can’t wait to brag about how their buddy, Tom Wyatt, came to visit them. And Debra’s been cooking and cleaning all day for the dinner she invited you to this evening.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Oddly enough, he sort of was. Even another meal accompanied by Dustin and Angela’s squabbling was preferable to his own company just then.
“So, why are you really here, Tom? You didn’t have any other plans for this week? A busy, famous guy like you?”
“I had other plans,” Tom admitted glumly. “They fell through.”
“So you just decided on the spur of the moment to come check out my resort.”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“Well, we told you when we left your house that you would be welcome here any time. I just didn’t expect you to take us up on it so soon.”
“Sort of surprised me, as well,” Tom admitted.
“That you and I ended up kind of friendly?”
“That, too. Guess we had a few things in common, after all.”
“Like both having tempers that get us in trouble sometimes.”
Tom winced. “That’s one.”
Grinning, Dan added, “We also both seem to have a soft spot for bossy women.”
Tom laughed, as expected, but this time there was a pang behind the humor. Because he didn’t want to talk about Melissa then, he kept the conversation moving. “Another thing we have in common is both knowing what it’s like to chase a dream with everything we’ve got. And how it feels to finally get there and find out it’s not quite like what we’d expected.”
Dan nodded. “I hear you,” he muttered.
Shrugging, Tom looked around the resort again. “But still, you’re living your dream. That’s got to feel good to you.”
“It does.” Dan looked around with a smile when his children, bundled into coats and hats and scarves, tumbled from their home and pelted toward them, laughing in excitement as they ran. “It does feel good.”
He glanced back at Tom. “But you should know about that. You’re living yours, too. You’re a NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Series driver, man. You’ve won a championship. I guess you know how many people would give everything they have to be in your shoes.”
The discussion came to an end when the children reached them, Angela throwing her arms around her father’s waist with enough enthusiasm to knock a breath from him. Laughing, he swung her up in his arms, then set her back down, looking at that moment like a very happy man.
“Tom, come with me,” Dustin said, motioning as he moved toward the boat dock. “I want to show you the carp that always come up to the dock for fish food.”
Following obligingly, Tom thought about what Dan had said. There were a lot of different kinds of dreams, he mused. Dan was fortunate enough to have achieved several of them. As for himself…well, maybe he should spend the rest of the off-season deciding exactly what dream this former champion wanted to pursue next.