Full Throttle(16)
“No, no.”
Kane and James. She hadn’t seen them all afternoon. “Somebody’s hurt.”
“No.”
“Bob Hollister is firing everybody.”
“Of course not. Good grief, you really do need this.”
Realizing the emergency was anything but, Lexie moved to her desk, her mind already on the initial setup for qualifying. “Need what?”
“A night out with the girls.”
“What girls?”
“Well, just me actually. I think you should start out slowly. Let me see your hands.”
Before she could react, Cheryl had already snagged her hand and bent over it. She tsked. “Have you ever had a manicure?”
“I—”
“Is that really grease under your fingernails?”
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t see why—”
“Do you even own a dress?” Cheryl’s pitying gaze raked her body. “I’m not taking you anywhere in jeans and a T-shirt.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes since I’m not going—”
“Oh, yes, you are. Your father suggested, and I agree. You need to have some fun, take your mind off racing for once.”
Lexie crossed her arms over her chest. “My father suggested?”
“Earlier today. Actually, I’ve wanted to take you out with me for a while, but I know how important this top-ten stuff is, so I’ve been holding back.”
Holding back? The woman didn’t know the meaning of the words.
“But since your father encouraged me, I’m ready to go. What time will all that junk be loaded?”
Despite her frustration at the ambush, Lexie nearly smiled. This was why Bob had hired her to run the front office. Stuff was the championship, worth more than five million dollars to the winning team. Junk was millions of dollars in cars, engines and vital equipment they needed to race in front of hundreds of thousands of fans.
Cheryl couldn’t care less. She was unflappable in the midst of chaos and unimpressed by the high profile of everyone she worked for. She also wasn’t googly-eyed with the drivers, other team owners or sponsors. She wasn’t fooled by cute women who had an appointment to see Kane or any of the other Hollister drivers.
Racing, frankly, was way down her list of priorities. Lexie had to send her an e-mail after each race to let her know what had happened, so she could direct media inquiries for the next week.
“We’re shooting for six,” she said in response to Cheryl’s question about loading, though she had no intention of leaving until much later. She only had an empty apartment to go home to, and she’d much rather work to keep her mind off Kane and his blond lunch companion or Richmond and its tire-shredding turns.
“Perfect,” Cheryl said. “I’ll make nail appointments for six-thirty. Tamera is almost always booked, but she’ll make time for us. Then we’ll—”
“I’m not getting my nails done. I’m working.”
“After our nails are done, we’ll move on to hair and makeup.” She pulled off Lexie’s cap and dusted her fingers over her hair. “Definitely a better cut, and highlights are a must.”
Lexie crammed her hat back on her head. “I’m not—”
“Then we’re going to dinner. Something light, I think. We don’t want to be too full and feel logy. Then it’s on to Neon.”
Lexie was so startled she forgot to argue about going at all. “Neon, as in the Charlotte nightclub, Neon?”
“That’s the one.”
“I’m not driving into Charlotte tonight.”
“Of course not, silly. I hired a limo.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
Cheryl ignored her and rolled on. “Clothes are going to be an issue, though. I guess we could swing by your house.”
Lexie opened her mouth to argue, but Cheryl kept going. “But then again, a new outfit would be better. What size are you?”
“An eight.”
Cheryl waved her hand. “Pish. You look more like a six to me—though who can tell in those baggy jeans. I’ll call Alphonso at Nordstrom and have him pick something out.”
Lexie sank into her desk chair. “This isn’t happening.”
“Yes, it is.” Cheryl leaned over the desk. “And don’t act like you’re about to be tortured. You’re going to be pampered. Every normal woman likes to be pampered.”
“I’m not normal.”
“You’re telling me. It’s four-thirty now, so I’ll come back to get you at six, and we can get started.”
“Cheryl, you’re very sweet, really. But I don’t have time for manicures and clubs. I have a race to prepare for.”
“I thought you said the car would be loaded by six.”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“And you are the car chief, right?”
“Well, yeah, but I have other—”
Cheryl dusted her hands together and headed toward the door. “Sounds like your job’s done for the day.” She waved as she walked out. “Six o’clock.”
She was gone a full thirty seconds before realization set in. She’d actually agreed to a girls’ night out with Cheryl. She didn’t have time to play dress-up. What would Cheryl do if she simply sneaked out?
She could always take her laptop home and run through the computer simulations there. One of her engineers could finish up in the garage, and her Mr. Big Ideas Father could supervise the loading.
By the time Cheryl figured out she was gone…
The door cracked open, and Cheryl stuck her head inside. “And don’t even think about sneaking off.” She closed the door with a snap.
Well, hell.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THOUGH LEXIE PROTESTED at every drop of polish, highlighter and lip gloss, she was ignored.
Used to giving commands, she was rendered speechless several times when her orders not only weren’t followed, but people talked over and around her as if she wasn’t even there. Nobody would tell her what they were doing to her at any particular moment. And, worst of all, she wasn’t allowed a mirror.
She could have pink hair with purple highlights for all she knew.
Or maybe, she wondered with a giggle—they’d plied her with champagne, too—she could have red hair with flaming yellow streaks. Then she’d match the stock car.
So maybe the coddling and attention hadn’t been all bad. The hand massage was pretty nice, as was the warm, sweet-smelling cream they’d put on her face. And if she had pink hair, she could just stuff it up in her team cap. It’s not as if anyone would notice.
Would Kane really halt in his tracks the way the guys in the garage did for Cheryl?
Nope. Not a chance.
“All done,” her makeup consultant said, standing back to observe her.
Lexie’s gaze flicked to the mirror, which was covered up with a big white sheet. She felt like one of the TV fashion victims just before their big “reveal.” “Do I get to see now?”
“After you get dressed,” Cheryl said, walking up with that stubborn look Lexie had gotten way too used to over the past few hours.
“How do I know my hair isn’t pink?” she asked, rising reluctantly.
“Pull a strand over and look at it.”
Pampering definitely made the brain fuzzy. She did as Cheryl suggested, then frowned. “It looks the same.” Though maybe a bit lighter.
“It’s not,” Cheryl said as she led her to the dressing room. “Poncho off, dress on. We need to get going.”
“What time is it?”
“Nearly ten.”
“At night?”
Cheryl simply rolled her eyes and shut the door.
“I need to go to bed, not go out,” Lexie shouted. “I have to qualify in less than two days, you know.”
“Kane and the car have to qualify. You just have to squawk on the radio.”
“I don’t squawk!”
“Get dressed already.”
Fine. One drink. She was having one drink at this club, then she was going home. They’d already done nails, hair, makeup and champagne. They’d even already had dinner, since Alphonso from Nordstrom had brought along Caesar salads when he delivered the dress—all part of the service, apparently, when you were a power shopper like Cheryl.
Lexie didn’t even want to think about what all this was costing her. Cheryl had demanded her credit card early on, and she’d signed the receipts without even looking at the totals.
Hey, she could just bill her father for the whole thing. This was all his idea, after all.
With that cheerful thought spurring her, she slipped into the stylish little black dress—LBD according to Cheryl—and couldn’t help but sigh as the silk lining caressed her body.
Okay, so the hand massage, the face stuff and the dress were all pretty cool.
Her thoughts flew back to the sponsor party at Bristol. The night she’d worn the ill-fitting green dress. Maybe she hadn’t stopped Kane in his tracks, but the other men had certainly noticed her, even without the professional help Cheryl so obviously thought she needed.
She’d spent so much of her life focusing on using her brain power, she didn’t put much stock in the fleeting thrill of appearances. But she couldn’t deny how much she’d enjoyed throwing her team off balance and the flirty light in Victor Sono’s eyes. There were men out there who’d appreciate her.