Reckless Curves Page 2

  I glanced up at him, gauging his comment by his facial expression. He was smiling at me, but I noted the same protective look in his eyes he used to get back in high school, usually when he was trying to keep me out of trouble. Shouts from outside brought my attention back to the open door.

  “Uh oh, Brent found Calen,” Tony groaned.

  Calen Callaghan was the newest and hottest commodity on the racing scene, a talented young driver who was exhaustively arrogant and screamed sex from every pore. I’d researched him during my flight and learned that he seemed to enjoy riding along the edge of the rules. Wild and appearing to think he was above reproach, he’d been warned by officials on more than one occasion to tone down his behavior, both on and off the track.

  Currently, Brent and Calen stood outside the door, shouting at each other.

  “God damn it, Calen, I told you about taking it down too low in turn two,” Brent yelled.

  “I was getting a feel for the track. You told me to work it around the track and find the sweet spot,” Calen shouted. His jet, black hair flipped down into his eyes as he argued with Brent. Still bickering, they turned and headed inside the garage.

  “I also told you to watch out for that dip in the bottom of turn two, which you obviously chose to ignore,” Brent hissed as he walked past me.

  Calen opened his mouth to reply then shut it and smiled at me. “Well hello there, lovely. What’s a beautiful thing like you doing inside a place like this?” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips.

  Before I could say anything, Brent turned and snatched my hand out of Calen’s grasp. “Hands off. She’s here to get to find you another sponsor, since you can’t seem to live up to the wholesome image Family Foods wanted. So if you want your job, keep your hands off and your dick in your pants.”

  Calen scoffed. “Family Foods knew my reputation before they signed on for sponsorship. So I don’t see how my actions should factor into any of this.”

  “You’ve been told over and over that you represent your sponsors both on and off the track." The vein in Brent’s neck pulsed and I had a strange feeling of impending doom. "Getting into the pants of every pit lizard that looks your way only serves to solidify your reputation as a playboy, and playboys don’t shop at Family Food’s stores.”

  Calen shrugged. “Their loss, but I still don’t see why I can’t get to know Ms. Meyer’s a little better. After all, if she’s here to find me a new sponsor, wouldn’t it be wise for her to know what kind of man I really am?”

  A low growl registered in my ears as Brent stepped between me and Calen. “I’ll not have you treating her like those little trailer sluts you entertain. You want a piece of ass, find it elsewhere.”

  “Spoilsport.” Calen pouted for a second, then grinned at me one last time before walking away.

  Brent ran a shaky hand through his hair as he turned to face me. He blew out a ragged breath. “I swear if he wasn’t such a damn good driver I’d fire his ass in a heartbeat.” He shook his head. “The kid thinks with his dick twenty-four seven.”

  In an attempt to diffuse some of his frustration I tried to lighten the mood. “He’s young and good looking and I imagine that he’s got girls dropping at his feet. Of course he’s going to think with his…well not with the head on his shoulders anyway.”

  Brent’s gaze narrowed on me, and a scowl claimed his features. “So you think he’s good looking, too?”

  So much for diffusing that ticking time bomb. Note to self...you suck as a comedian. So don’t go there.

  For reason’s I couldn’t quite explain, the idea of Brent being angry with me caused an odd feeling of discomfort in the pit of my stomach. Yes, I feared screwing up the account, but at the moment it wasn’t dollar signs I worried about.

  I gave a slow nod. “Yeah, he is, but he’s not nearly as handsome as his boss. Now if it’s not too much trouble, can I have my hand back?”

  He glanced down and his face flushed as he released my hand. “Sorry.”

  Hoping to finally lighten the mood, I smiled. “It wasn’t that I minded, but I figured that you’d want to use both hands when you strangle Calen.”

  It took a moment for my statement to sink in, then Brent arched a brow and slowly cracked a grin. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

  I rocked back on my heels and shoved my thumbs in the front pocket of my jeans. I certainly hoped so.

  * * *

  I knew little about the agent/rep side of our ad business. That was Marcy’s department. I wrote marketing campaigns for magazines, television and newspapers. Since I didn’t really have a clue of what I was doing at the track, I spent the morning walking around the garage, making notes of the various sponsored cars. It seemed to me that I needed to get a feel for what was allowed and what wasn’t. Later I would call Marcy and get yet another crash course on what to do.

  While I worked to familiarize myself with the business side of motorsports, Brent and his crew continued to work on their primary and then their back up cars. Eventually I wandered back to the garage area and, trying to stay out of their way, leaned against a wall to watch. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the process was beginning to fascinate me.

  The crew members would work under the hood, changing out parts. They’d start the car, let it run and hook up scanners to it. Then, based on the readings they received, they would go back to making changes and tweaking things. While I had no idea what the readings meant, they obviously did and weren’t quite happy with what they saw.

  By noon my stomach was starting to growl and I began to wonder if anyone around the garage ever stopped to eat. As if on cue, Brent popped up from beneath the hood and placed a hand against this stomach. He glanced at his watch then at me. “You hungry?”

  “A little,” I replied. Actually, I was starving. The continental breakfast the hotel served wasn’t exactly a stick-to-your-ribs kind of meal.

  He shot me one of his killer smiles, and my knees threatened to turn to jelly. “Tony, take over here,” he ordered without looking away from me. “Shannon and I are going to grab some lunch.”

  He pressed a hand to my lower back, guiding me through the door. Warmth penetrated my shirt where his hand rested and a tingle started low in my belly. For reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I had a feeling that lunch with Brent Hague was about to be a very interesting experience.

  We stepped into the daylight and I slid my sunglasses down in place. “So where are we going for lunch?”

  Brent nodded toward a building on the far side of the track. “I’d love to take you someplace nice. Unfortunately, there really isn’t time. So we’ll have to settle for the track café.”

  I couldn’t help but grin at his statement. “I’m sure the cafe will be fine.”

  Brent pursed his lips at my statement. “And I’m sure you probably eat in a lot nicer places back in New York.”

  I nodded. “Sometimes, but there are days when all I want is a slice from the corner pizzeria.”

  He smiled. “Good to know.”

  Chapter 3

  Ten minutes later, I sat in a booth at the infield café, blotting the grease off my hamburger while I waited for Brent to return from taking a phone call.

  “Shannon?”

  Not expecting to hear my name, I lifted my head and began to scan the room. It didn’t take long to locate the source of the voice. I groaned at the sight of my ex-husband sauntering toward me with a giant smile plastered across his face. Why hadn’t I even considered the idea of him being here? He did work for a race team, so the possibility existed. Since he’d already spotted me, any chance of my making a clean escape was already gone. With Brent taking an important call, that left me without even a buffer to help deflect Wayne. Knowing there would be no way around the meeting I forced myself not to frown and waited.

  Wayne’s grin widened as he reached me. “I thought that was you.” He leaned over to kiss me on the cheek only to have me block his move with my hand. He stra
ightened his five foot nine inch frame and frowned. “What’s the deal, Shannon? I just wanted to give you a little kiss.”

  How quickly he seemed to forget how our relationship ended. “Sorry, but you lost that right the moment you put your lips on another woman.”

  His frown deepened and he actually had the gall to look hurt by my statement. “Aw come on, honey. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

  “I’m not your honey and I’ve seen your version of friendly. Sorry, I’m not interested,” I replied, lifting the bottle of water for a drink.

  “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me.” He waved his hands in the air and I got a smattering of satisfaction at the irritation I detected in his tone. Served him right for how he treated me. “Are you really going to hold a grudge over something that happened nearly three years ago?”

  Was he kidding? “Yep,” I replied, hoping my standoffishness would send Wayne away.

  He shifted his weight to one hip and folded his arms. “You know, I never pegged you for being the kind of woman to hold a grudge.”

  I was tiring of this conversation quickly and wished Brent would return. Maybe his presence would be enough to send Wayne scurrying away like the rat he really was.

  “Well I never pegged you for being a lying, cheating bastard either, so I guess we’ve both learned something about each other.” The tone in my voice reflected my frustration of being forced into a conversation I really didn’t want to have.

  Just as I spotted Brent walking toward the table, Wayne opened his mouth again. “So what are you doing here? You hate auto racing.”

  Oh God! Why in the hell had he said that? Especially with as much conviction as he did. Panic set in as Brent’s steps slowed. Had he heard Wayne? Would he be angry with me? Come on brain…think. I glanced at Brent as he approached Wayne from behind. Needing to diffuse Wayne’s statement and fast, I started to answer, only to have Brent swoop in and plant a large lingering kiss on me. Shock registered first, but his soft, warm lips were too enticing to resist. My lips parted, allowing his tongue access. He took the invitation, deepening the kiss. Currents of electricity lit up every cell in my body until I swore I’d simply combust right on the spot. I couldn’t remember ever being kissed like that.

  He pulled away and smiled, quickly arching a brow at me. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to take so long.”

  It only took a moment for awareness to register and I eagerly played along. “That’s okay,” I replied. “I know how busy you are. I was just worried about your food getting cold.”

  Brent’s grin widened before he turned to face Wayne. As he did, he slipped his hand into mine and squeezed.

  I did my best to hide my own smile and look serious before introducing them. “Brent, this is Wayne Dawson. Wayne, this is Brent Hague.”

  “Yes. I know who you are, Mr. Hague.” Wayne shook Brent’s other hand. “Um…I really have to get back to the garage.” He glanced down at me, confusion a hint of irritation in his gaze. “Maybe we’ll finish catching up a little later. It looks like we have a lot to talk about.”

  “Actually, we don’t, but I’ll be around,” I replied, nonchalantly waving my hand in the air.

  “Nice meeting you, Mr. Hague.” Wayne nodded at Brent before turning to leave.

  Once I was sure he was out of hearing, I let loose the laugh I’d been holding. “That was absolute genius. How did you know?”

  Brent slid into the empty seat across from me. “I was watching the two of you when I walked up. I could tell by your body language that you really didn’t want to be bothered by him.” He raised a dark brow at me. “Who is he anyway?”

  I frowned and ducked my head as I muttered. “My ex-husband.” I hated saying the word ex. Not because I harbored any residual romantic feelings for Wayne, but because it represented yet another failure in my life.

  “Oh.” Brent’s face twisted with a grin.

  How could he laugh? I lifted my head to meet his stare. “It’s not funny.”

  “Yeah it is. How in the hell did a beautiful woman like you get tangled up with a schmuck like him?”

  Unnerved by his backhanded compliment, I lowered my gaze to the sandwich on my plate and resumed the methodical blotting of the grease on my burger. “It’s a long, very ugly story that ended with me walking in on him and another woman in my bed.”

  “Wow,” he leaned forward and reached for my free hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of something that obviously caused you pain.”

  Pushing away the all too familiar sting of hurtful memories, I shrugged. “Thank you. I guess I really should have expected something like that to happen.”

  “Why is that?”

  I glanced at Brent. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  His brow knit in response, but he otherwise remained silent.

  I sighed at his lack of response. Why was he forcing me to say out loud what we both already knew? “Okay, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a big girl.” I emphasized the words by pulling free from his touch and angling my hands toward my body.

  “So?” He shook his head as he shrugged.

  “So, big girls generally don’t find happily ever afters.” I shot back.

  “Then they’re not looking in the right places,” he replied.

  Feeling the weight of the conversation, I sighed. “Brent.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t do that, Shannon. Don’t malign yourself because of some stupid fashion magazine mindset that only thin women deserve to be desired or happy.”

  My eyes burned and I fought like a warrior to not cry in front of him. I’d already told him so much more than I should have, considering he was my client. The last thing I needed right now was to break down and cry in front of him. Way to complete your humiliation, Shannon.

  “I’d really like to not talk about this anymore,” I replied as I turned my attention back to my hamburger.

  He eyed my burger. “Okay. We’ll let the subject drop...for now.”

  His addition of those two little words sent chills up my spine. No way would I allow the conversation to steer that direction again.

  “So tell me,” he began again. “Do you always remove the flavor from your food before you eat it?”

  Amused, I glanced up at him a second time. “I would have rather had a salad, but they don’t serve them here. If I’m going to eat a burger then I need to get some of the grease off of it first.”

  He leaned against the back of the booth and stretched his arms over the worn vinyl. “Tell me you’re not on one of those stupid diets that only allow you to eat lettuce.”

  “It’s not a diet. It’s a way of life. If I have any hope of staying healthy I need to eat right.”

  “Yes, but eating right doesn’t always mean depriving yourself of taste or enjoyment.”

  “I don’t deprive myself.” I placed the burger back on the bun. “Of anything.” I added just for good measure.

  He pursed his lips. “You’re a real ball buster aren’t you?”

  I couldn’t resist a smile. “Yeah, I get a thrill out of giving my clients a hard time.”

  “Well after that kiss, I think I’m probably not your average client, now am I?”

  I had the burger halfway to my mouth when his words registered. Once again it appeared that I was treading into dangerous territory. While there might be a strong sexual attraction between us, I wasn’t naive enough to think he wanted more than a quick jaunt between the sheets. As tempting as that thought might be, it didn’t change the fact that he was still my client. That meant keeping a certain amount of professionalism in our developing relationship.

  Carefully, I returned the sandwich to the paper plate. “Look, I really appreciate you helping me out with my ex, and while I have to admit it was an amazing kiss, I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

  “Why…because of Bozo the Clown?” He angled a thumb toward the door Wayne exited earlier.

  “You may not like him, but yo
u have to remember I was married to him. It was difficult enough when he came home and told me he was leaving to pursue his dream with auto racing, but when I found him in bed with another woman...” I let the sentence die as the words choked in my throat. I cursed myself for allowing him to steer the conversation right back to where we were just minutes earlier.

  Brent slid his hand across the table and it came to rest on top of mine. “Not all men are like your ex, Shannon.”

  “Even if that’s true, I’m not sure I’m ready to try again.” It was the God’s honest truth. Even with three years between me and that awful day, I still hadn’t quite come to terms with what he’d done. The day he left I erected an invisible wall around my heart and had done a good job of protecting it...until now. “Besides, we just met and you’re already talking relationships.”

  For several seconds an uncomfortable silence fell between us and I wondered if he was going to push the subject.

  “Fair enough,” he finally said as he let go of my hand. “But you are stuck with me for the rest of the weekend, because King Dork now thinks we’re a couple, so you had better find a way to look happy.”

  Chapter 4

  The rest of our lunch conversation we’d kept to light conversation, consisting of topics like favorite music, movies and why I’d gone into advertising as a career. Thankful for the change of subjects, I still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was somehow working me for more information. Worse yet, I’d seemed to just open up to him like a broken faucet, pouring out all the personal details about myself that I wouldn’t normally share.

  “Marcy said you would be willing to teach me about stock car racing,” I tossed my empty water bottle into a receptacle as we exited the café.

  “What do you want to know?” Brent asked.

  With what I hoped was finally a solid change of subject in front of me, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well…Everything I guess. I’m embarrassed to say that I’m extremely illiterate when it comes to motorsports. I’m not sure I would know a lug nut from a lug wrench.”