Will’s mechanic, Leland, had trailered the Cobra down to the Monterey Peninsula. Its paint job gleamed in the summer sun as it sat on the track. They’d both taken Friday off work for this, but the raceway wasn’t empty. There were people working, mechanics along pit row, golf carts whizzing by.
Jeremy and Will had helped Leland roll the Cobra out of the trailer. Harper had been expecting a gruff old guy with grease under his nails, but Leland was younger than Will, and reminded her of Elvis in some of his early racing movies.
In the pits, Will had introduced them around, never letting go of her hand, the same way he’d kept her close when he’d introduced her during intermission that night at the theater. She’d been half expecting pictures of her and Will in the society blogs after that night, but there’d been nothing. Most likely because she hadn’t even been worth the question, Who’s the mystery woman with Will Franconi?
Will, with his constant attention, erased any slight from the thought. Who cared about the society pages when he gazed at her with such heat, desire, and sweet emotion in his eyes?
Leland, Will, and Jeremy were leaning over the open hood of the car out on the track, a small crowd of onlookers two steps behind observing the precheck procedure as if they were preparing for a flight around the world.
“What do you think, Jeremy?” Will pointed at something Harper had no clue about. “Should we change the timing?”
“That sounds good, Will,” her brother agreed, his concentration intense. It was serious stuff when Will asked his opinion—and it always made Harper smile. And fall just a little bit more for her deliciously sweet billionaire.
“Yep,” Leland added. “Changing the timing will give you a little more torque and squeeze out a little more speed.”
Harper had no idea what any of that meant. She wasn’t entirely sure that Jeremy did either, but he nodded gravely. She felt another flutter of emotion in her stomach. Will was so good to Jeremy, making him feel a part of things, as if he were a man instead of a kid.
Leland was pointing into the engine. “But you’ll have to watch out on the turns or you might lose the back end.”
A bald man gave Will a wrench as though he were a nurse handing the surgeon a scalpel. Every visible inch of skin except his face was armored with tattoos. His name was Zeke or Duke or something with a hard sound to it. There’d been too many names for her to catch. Everyone watched in silence, as if they were all holding their breath, Harper included.
She didn’t want the extra torque if it spelled danger. Before she’d worried only about Jeremy. Now her heart also went into a frenzy worrying about Will and his need for speed.
He laid his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Lesson one with fast cars: Sometimes you’ve got to decide between putting a few more digits on your speedometer or making sure you don’t crash. Safety first, right?”
“Right, Will.” Will was his hero, and Jeremy agreed with everything.
“We’re not going to do it,” Will said as he handed the wrench back to Zeke/Duke, who tossed it into the tool chest.
And Harper’s tension eased. Will loved speed, but he wasn’t crazy. He wouldn’t take unnecessary risks, not with Jeremy. And now, she realized, not even with himself.
She didn’t know if it was a change she’d brought about; she only knew it was a worry she didn’t need to carry any more. Will wouldn’t let anything happen.
“Okay, let’s do it.” Will slammed down the Cobra’s hood. “Thanks, Dude.” Okay, maybe the guy’s name was Dude. “We’re ready.” He clapped Jeremy on the back.
“Are we gonna get on the track now, Will?” Her brother was vibrating with energy.
“We are. And we’re going real fast today, too.” But even as he said it, Will looked at her with silent communication, making sure she was still okay with it.
He was so careful with her and with Jeremy and it made everything inside her melt as she gave him the barest of nods. And a smile. The one he sent in return flipped her inside out with pure sweetness.
Their small audience lined the fence as Will handed a helmet to Jeremy. “There are rules for safety here, so you have to put this on.”
“Cool.” Jeremy beamed as Will helped him with the chin strap. “It’s like Grand Prix.” Another of Jeremy’s favorite old movies.
Her brother waved at her from the passenger seat, his smile filling the entire open face of the helmet. Will started the engine, and the spectators gave a cheer as the vibration of the motor rumbled in her chest. Harper couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like on race day with a horde of high-powered cars on the start line.
And then they were gone, leaving only a rush of wind behind them and the phantom roar of a crowd.
The scream of the car carried across the infield of the racetrack. She counted seconds that seemed to go on forever, then a minute, two minutes. The air moved first, as if it were dragging the car, then they blew past in a blur, Jeremy shrieking with delight. Her heart was in her throat, but it didn’t top out there, rising up until she thought her head might explode. Or maybe that was the rumble of the motor pounding against her skull.
They flashed by her four more times, raising her hair each time, until it fluttered back down in their wake. Will finally brought the Cobra to a stop right in front of her.
“Wowowowow.” Jeremy was pulsing with so much energy he couldn’t even get the harness undone. Will helped, then reminded him, “Don’t forget the pipes are hot when you get out.”
Jeremy climbed out with exaggerated movements. When he was free, he ran so fast he almost barreled right into her. Somehow Will was right there, too, a hand on their arms to steady both of them.
“Your turn, Harper, your turn.” Jeremy was high on the thrill of the ride, his eyes shining brightly under the rim of the helmet.
Will didn’t say anything, simply looked at her with those intense eyes that did amazing things to her body—a blush of heat, butterflies in her stomach.
I love you.
Even now, she could hear him saying the words in that beautiful, harsh, wild voice.
In those early weeks with him, Harper had tried to use common sense, tried to keep things under control. But since that night in his penthouse a week ago, she couldn’t even remember the definition of common sense. With every touch, her resistance melted. Her head told her to go slow, but when she was with Will, she wanted to hit the gas, rushing headlong wherever he wanted her to go. And all she wanted, every moment of every day, was this wonderful, sweet, and incredibly sexy man. One who’d trumped an unimaginable past.
Which was why she couldn’t say no, not to anything. Especially when she’d just let Jeremy ride beside Will. She shouldn’t allow her brother to do something she wasn’t willing to do herself.
As if he could read her mind, and knew that the answer was yes, Will said, “Jeremy’s helmet should fit you.” He tugged at the chin strap and helped Jeremy pull it off.
“Look at you.” She fluffed the flatness out of Jeremy’s helmet hair.
He wriggled away just like a kid whose mom rubbed dirt away with a lick of her fingers. Will smiled as he watched the exchange.
“Okay, Jeremy, back behind the fence so you can watch.” Will pointed to the other side of the chain link. Then he pushed the helmet down over her head. She was glad for the open-face style, so she could see his eyes, memorize the lines of his mouth, catch his scent. He jiggled the helmet slightly, but the foam inside fit snugly against her ears.
“It’s good.” He tilted her head back and dealt with the chin strap, sneaking in a kiss before saying, “Hop in.”
The car was low, the seats deep. “At least I’m wearing pants this time.”
He glanced down at her legs. “I like you in tight jeans. But the skirt was fun last time, too.” He gave her one of his wolfish smiles. “For me, at least.”
Leaning over her, he drew the shoulder harness down on both sides. Where the touches had been light and fast that first day they’d met at the airport—a hint rather than a promise—now he caressed, lingered, made sure every single piece of nylon was in exactly the right place.
She forgot about the spectators. She forgot about Jeremy. Forgot about everything but the gorgeous man beside her as he reached down between her legs with slow, seductive movements. He hooked the strap into the harness, his fingers brushing her inner thigh. Heat, his hands, her body. Quicker breaths, as if she were anticipating the speed, anticipating his strong hands on the wheel. And on her.
“Ready?”
The question was loaded with alternate meanings, especially when accompanied by the look he gave her, the way his gaze dipped down to her mouth, held there, then slid back up to meet her eyes.
She was ready. So ready.
She gave him a standard thumbs-up. The engine roared through her chest when he pumped the gas, then settled into a steady rumble inside her. He started slow, increasing speed gradually. It wasn’t an oval track with only four turns, but a road course with twists and curves. He’d shown her and Jeremy an aerial map.
They went into the first hairpin turn at fifty miles per hour. His speed climbed as they went up the hill by the lake where they’d entered the track. Then they were going faster, faster, faster. Though he braked and downshifted into the turns, he throttled up coming out of them. Despite the harness, her head was jostled and she had to hold onto the door so she wouldn’t be thrown around in the seat. It was like a roller coaster, up, down, around. Adrenaline fueled her blood like gas fueled the car. The corkscrew turn barely slowed him down. Her eyes teared in the wind. Even with the helmet, the noise was deafening, the air whistling past them, the thunder of the engine as he powered up, its whine as he decelerated.