“You still haven’t given me the invoice for that last order of tires?” Drew heard Paddy Kelleher’s voice vibrate and chased it across the garage. She’d followed him from place to place all morning, but the man was slipperier than water on an oil slick. He kept getting away before Drew could approach him.
“It’s right there on your desk.” Sam’s voice caught Drew’s attention, and it shot an unnerving spark through her system. “I put it there yesterday,” she said, and Drew watched her head into the office.
When Sam was completely out of sight, Drew made her move. “Hi, Mr. Kelleher. My name is Drew Thompson.”
“What can I do for you, young lady?” Paddy said, shaking the hand Drew offered.
“I want to join your team.”
“Check with Ray. He may need some help with cleanup.” Paddy brushed past her, heading toward the two stacks of tires next to the far wall of the garage, and Drew followed.
“You don’t understand, Mr. Kelleher. I want to be one of your drivers.”
“You’ve driven before?” Paddy didn’t turn as he examined the information on the tags stuck to the face of the tires.
“Yes, sir. For Freemont Oil.”
“Drew Thompson,” Paddy repeated thoughtfully. “That name sounds familiar, but I don’t recall seeing it in racing.”
“My father is Andrew Thompson.”
“Andrew Thompson, the import-export mogul?” Paddy swung around abruptly, making Drew take a step back.
“That would be him.”
Paddy’s brows pulled together curiously. “You come from a wealthy family. Why don’t they back you?”
“My mother doesn’t particularly like her youngest daughter risking her life for fun.”
“And your father?”
“He’s okay with it, but he knows what’ll happen if he opposes my mother.” She let out a short chuckle. “He doesn’t want to be left out in the cold, if you know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Paddy gave her a smile of acknowledgment. “We all try to deny it, but there’s nothing like the love of a good woman.”
“That’s for sure.” Drew thought about her former wife, Kimberly, and her stomach churned.
Paddy sat silently, surveying Drew for a few minutes. “Well, since we’ve been on this winning streak, just about everyone wants to be one of my drivers.”
“I know that, sir. But if I may be blunt, they’re not me.” Drew held her tongue and waited.
Paddy raised an eyebrow and then shifted, giving her a stifling stare. “What kind of qualifications do you have that others don’t?”
“I have instincts,” she said, relieved that she didn’t have to deal with the usual gender bias.
Paddy leaned back against the stack of tires and studied her carefully. Drew saw his close scrutiny. They were on the same page now. Paddy Kelleher was a racing legend, so the man had to know what Drew meant by instincts. Without them, Paddy couldn’t possibly have been the driver he was in his day. Plenty of drivers out there had experience, but drivers with instincts can practically drive a track blindfolded. The track becomes part of them. They can feel the pavement deep inside. With all the technology these days, finding a driver with instincts was a rarity.
“Found it,” Sam shouted, coming back out of the office. “It was buried underneath that pile of girlie magazines you call reading material.” Spotting Drew with her father, she stopped. “Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
“Samantha, this is Drew Thompson.”
“We’ve met,” she said nonchalantly, handing him the invoice.
“Good, because she wants to drive for me.”
“Really?” Her voice deepened with sarcasm.
“What do you think? The girl says she’s got instincts.”
“Instincts. I’ll believe that when I see it.” She let out a short breath. “Besides, I’m the next driver in line for this team, Paddy.” She crossed her arms across her chest, and Drew knew she wouldn’t be an easy sell. “Any car I fix, I drive.”
“That’s not going to happen, Samantha.” Paddy’s eyes grew narrow. “And don’t think I won’t replace you if I have to.”
“Good luck finding another crew chief with my skills.”
“Come now, Samantha. At least give the girl a shot.” Paddy rubbed his hand across his face roughly.
“The girl is an absolute idiot.” She let her arms drop, planting her hands on her hips. “What kind of a driver doesn’t know when she’s thrown a rod?”
“You said it. I’m a driver, not a mechanic,” Drew shot back, forcing her gaze up Sam’s long, curvy torso to meet her impenetrable stare.
“Any driver with half a brain can tell when something’s wrong with her car.”
“Then why didn’t Tommy come in before Lucky Thirteen fell apart?” Drew could see the remark provoked an unexpected gut-wrenching reaction in Sam, and her sudden vulnerability made Drew shift uneasily. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kelleher. But with all due respect to you and your crew chief, I’m sure you know from your own experience, a driver doesn’t always hear the subtle hints a race car produces before something goes wrong.”
“A thrown rod is not a subtle hint. The damn thing sounds like a jackhammer.” Sam regained her composure and gave Drew a heated glare. “You’re supposed to handle an engine, not mangle it.”
Drew clenched her jaw and matched Sam’s stare. “If the valves had been adjusted correctly, it never would’ve happened.”
Sam’s brows rose, and her lips flattened as she threw up her hands. “Not my problem. I’m not your tech.” She swung her gaze quickly back to Paddy. “I won’t pit for this arrogant—”
“That’s fine. Because I won’t drive any machine you lay hands on.”
Paddy clanged a wrench against an oil drum, sending an ear-piercing echo throughout the garage. “All right now. I’ve heard just about enough from the both of you.” He pointed the wrench at Drew. “If you drive for me, Samantha will be your crew chief.” He held up a hand as Sam started to protest. “And you, young lady, may be my daughter, but you are still in my employ. If you want to keep this job, you’ll work on whichever car I decide.”
“She’s your daughter?” Drew darted her gaze back and forth between them, her mind in a spin. What the hell had she gotten herself into? She had no idea this bull-headed, beautiful woman was part of Paddy Kelleher’s family. Sam was her prime suspect.
Paddy smiled slightly. “My oldest and most stubborn,” he said, with a grumble.
Drew should’ve seen it. Red hair—tenacious—the resemblance was obvious now. She’d only thumbed through the case file, but she hadn’t seen anything about Paddy’s daughter being his crew chief. This would definitely complicate things.
“Right now my only open driving slot is for testing and backup,” Paddy said.
“I don’t want to be anyone’s backup. I want to race.” Drew glanced back over at Sam to make sure she was buying her act. She could see by the scowl on her face she was taking it in bigtime.
“That’s all I’ve got right now. Take it or leave it.”
Drew took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Making it known that she’d blown up her last sponsor’s car was a risk, but she had to make sure no one else out there would touch her. She had to be on the target team. Drew needed to be close to her suspect. She hadn’t realized, the other night, that she’d already made it to the inside track.
“You’ll give me a fair shot?”
“Aye.” Paddy nodded. “You’ll have to prove yourself, of course.”
“You’ve got yourself a backup.” Drew shook his hand and headed for the door before she took her phone and sent a Tweet to get the word out.
* * *
Sam was fully aware Paddy could, and would, put another car on the track if he wanted. Instincts or not, he had too much money invested to unleash this hot-headed chick on the racetrack without seeing what she could do first. With the recent rash of accidents, Sam knew his threats to fire her were idle. Paddy wouldn’t trust any other technician to work on his cars.
“You’ll be gone in a week,” Sam mumbled, giving Drew a smile of satisfaction when she glanced back at her. No respectable driver would settle for being backup.
“Don’t look so smug,” Paddy said, apparently catching Sam’s expression. “If the young lady turns out to be as good as she says, I will put her in the race. In the meantime, you and she had better learn to get along. She’s going to be testing every car you work on.”
“What’s the matter with you?” She threw up her arms. “You don’t know anything about that girl, and you’re willing to let her drive a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car?”
“I know more than you think, Samantha.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’ll just have to trust me on this one,” he said, going into the office. “Now show Drew the bus, and see if you can find her a racing suit that fits.”
This is just what I need! Seeing Drew around the track once in a while was one thing, but working with her on a daily basis would be a whole different story. Her phone chimed, and she took it out of her pocket just in time to see “Newest driver @kellehermotorsports #NASCAR #speed” scroll across the screen. She tapped the message and pulled up Drew’s profile.
NASCAR Driver, likes it fast…on the track.
Un-fucking-believable. Another message scrolled across the screen. Brad had tweeted a response.
@drewthompson backup drivers never get track time #alwayslast.
Sam smiled. “Let the games begin.”
* * *
Sam caught Drew just beyond the side door of the garage. “Hang on a minute. Paddy wants me to show you the bus.”
“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
“I don’t, but that won’t prevent me from doing my job.”
“So you’re going to take one for the team, eh?”
She lifted her lips into a plastic smile. “Something like that.”
“Lead the way.” Drew motioned her in front.
“It’s right over here.” Sam pointed to the brightly colored custom racing bus parked a few yards away. “Paddy likes to keep it close.” She unfastened the latch and tugged at the back door, but it didn’t open.
“Here. Let me help you with that.” Drew reached around and grabbed the knob. The door was open with one swift tug, and Sam was trapped between Drew’s great-smelling body and the side of the bus.
Within seconds, Drew’s mouth was on hers, and they were locked in a heated kiss. As Sam’s mind spun out of control, she tried to think of a single reason why she didn’t like her. But with every one of her nerve endings sizzling, she couldn’t recall. She wrapped her arms around Drew’s lean frame and swept her hands up her back. When Drew’s hands crept up the inside of her shirt, she couldn’t stop them, didn’t want to. Before they met the hot skin of Sam’s breasts, the loud roar of a race-car engine reminded Sam where she was. At the track. In broad daylight. Where everyone knew her.
Sam snapped her eyes open and shoved Drew away. “Stop. I told you, I’m not interested.”
Drew’s lips pulled into an irresistible smile. “That’s not the impression I’m getting.”
Sam swallowed hard and stared into her smoldering brown eyes. “I’m here right now only because Paddy has an eye for drivers. After seeing that engine you killed, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t let you drive a Tonka Truck.”
“Thank God for Paddy.” Drew leaned in to kiss her again.
Sam closed her eyes and turned her head, trying to shake the unnerving feeling of surrender floating throughout her body. “I said stop!” Sam’s voice faded into a desperate plea. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall right back into Drew’s arms. “I’m begging you. Please don’t.”
Drew let out a heavy breath, backed up, and let her turn to speed up the steps. Sam glanced back over her shoulder to find Drew right on her heels. She’d let her go, but she wasn’t letting up. She felt like sweet little Penelope Pussycat on the run from Pepe Le Pew, only not so unwilling. Soon enough Drew would have her cornered at the end of the bus, and she’d be back in her arms again. Lockers. She stopped, opened one of the lower cabinets to use as a barrier between them, and a shoe toppled out.
“That’s strange. There shouldn’t be anything but extra suits in here.”
Drew picked up the shoe and raised her eyebrows, prompting Sam to continue.
“Sonoma is our home track. Most of the crew has family in the area. We don’t use the bus for anything but storage when we’re here. Paddy keeps this garage year round.”
Drew fingered the limited wardrobe. “Looks like someone chose not to go home.”
“Maybe.” She plucked the shoe from her hand and tossed it back into the locker. “Or someone just forgot to clean out their locker.”
“So where do you live?” Drew was using that hey-I’m-interested tone again.
“I pretty much live on the road.”
“All the time?”
“Sometimes I stay with my sister.”
“Doesn’t leave much to come home to, does it?”
“The racing circuit is my home.”
Drew’s eyebrows popped up again. “No plans for the future? Spouse? Family?”
“I wouldn’t be good wife material.” She let the spring-loaded cabinet door clang shut. “The track really isn’t the kind of place to raise a family.” She let out a sigh. “Not a normal one, anyway.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
She glared at Drew. She was doing it again. Being too nice. Acting interested in things other than the race. Things she shouldn’t be interested in.
“Let’s get back to business, shall we?” Sam jerked open a drawer. It slammed straight into Drew’s leg, and she grimaced. That should dampen lover-girl’s libido for a while. “These are for tools. Parts are stored underneath the counters. Up the steps is a couch and TV, someplace to rest when we’re at another track.” Sam turned and brushed past her, heading back to the entrance to another set of lockers. “These are the crew lockers.” She yanked open a door and tossed a racing suit at her. “Here. Try this one on.”
“Right now?”
“Sure. Why not? You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” Maybe if she saw her body again, she’d realize Drew wasn’t all that great.
“Okay.” Drew slipped off her jeans and then her shirt. Sam froze. Her pulse rang in her ears, and her cheeks heated. Sports bra, abs, boxers. What the hell was she thinking? She was much better than Sam remembered, and now Drew had caught her reaction.
Sam pulled open another locker. “The helmets are in here. Find yourself one that fits.” She turned and flew back down the center aisle and out the exit.