“But it has to be comforting for Kane and the rest of your team to know you’ve been to the top. You know how to respond to pressure.”
“But I’m old. Believe me, I’m as grateful to have my team—and my daughter especially—as these guys might be to have an old guy’s experience on their side.”
Though it seemed a lifetime since the race ended, Kane’s car pulled up in the pits. James and the rest of the team descended on him as Lexie and her father pulled away from the reporters and let them surround their driver.
“We did good, Dad.”
He laid his arm around her shoulders. “We’ve got a helluva team.”
Lexie’s heart skipped a beat as she watched Kane hoist himself out of the car. His smile could no doubt be seen from the heavens. She couldn’t hear his words, but she watched his lips move.
She’d had some serious fantasies about those lips in the past few weeks. She’d have him all to herself tonight. Well, after all the team congratulations, the media interviews, the trip to the airport, the flight home…
So maybe not tonight.
But tomorrow night…
Hmm, not exactly then, either. The party would be crowded with friends and team members. They’d all want to relive the great moments of the last few races. She’d hardly get Kane to herself.
And as much of a temptation the attention the black dress might bring was, she knew she wouldn’t wear it. The party was a team celebration. Drawing attention to herself would be tacky.
IF ONLY THAT INCLINATION had somehow found its way to Cheryl Tolfort’s thought process.
Instead of the low-key, I’m-just-here-to-support-the-team entrance Lexie’d planned the following night, Cheryl had talked her into a red tank top and skin-tight jeans.
“I don’t know about this,” she said to Cheryl as they pulled up to Kane’s lake house.
“Would you stop? This is what people wear to parties.”
“You left out ‘normal’ people.”
“I was trying to be encouraging. I thought we got past all this shyness stuff last week.”
“That was in front of total strangers. This is my team.”
Cheryl rolled her eyes, then slid out of her SUV, slamming the door behind her. Lexie had little choice but to exit her side of the car.
During the pit celebration last night, Kane hadn’t seemed to care what she wore. He’d hugged her against his chest, kissed her temple and assured her she was the greatest car chief NASCAR had ever known. Then later, in the confusion of everyone boarding the plane, he’d really kissed her in the shadows.
Normal people, she guessed, would actually have their date pick them up, but further proof that she was far from normal occurred when Cheryl called that morning and demanded to take her to the party.
Glancing down at her cleavage peeking over her red tank top, she now understood why.
“I won’t get any respect dressed like this,” she said as they trudged up the driveway toward the house, which was lit like Daytona on the Fourth of July weekend.
“So? Good grief, Lexie, you don’t have to wear your Beta Club badge on your chest twenty-four hours a day.” Obviously frustrated, she turned, laying her hands on Lexie’s shoulders. “Being attractive and wanting to impress the opposite sex doesn’t make you an idiot. Do you think I’m stupid?”
Lexie’s jaw dropped. “Of course not. You run that front office like a general wished he could run a war zone. Why—”
“I’m blond. I’m busty. I like to remind people I’m both.”
Lexie saw where this argument was going, but was reluctant to see how it applied to her. “But you don’t work with guys.”
Cheryl raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Well, ah…you don’t work on technical…”
“Have you ever seen one of those brilliant engineers of yours try to work the fax machine?”
“Ah…no.”
“It’s not pretty.”
“Okay, okay, so they respect you, and you’re still—” she glanced at Cheryl’s black minidress “—still you. But I’m not you.”
“No, but you don’t have to pretend you’re not a girl to have respect.”
Lexie looked up at the house and remembered the first time she had driven by, just after she’d heard Kane had moved in. She’d imagined him heating up frozen pizza in the oven.
He’d never been much for sophisticated food. For the prom, they’d eaten with several other friends at a fancy restaurant in downtown Charlotte—after which he and James had claimed they needed a cheeseburger if they were going to make it through the night.
As his car chief, she’d been to the house a few times, but obviously never as Kane’s date.
Still, she’d seen a few of the women in Kane’s life. They dressed like lingerie models. She’d never been too impressed, and guessed by the brevity of their relationship that he hadn’t, either. But she couldn’t imagine having the confidence to smile and banter the way they did. To cock her hip and angle her head in just the right way.
Cheryl seemed to mirror her thoughts. “Catch their attention with your bod, then keep them with your brain.”
“You’re starting to scare me.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re making sense.”
“Let’s go.”
“Still…why does it have to be so public? Why can’t we get a corner booth in some dark Italian restaurant, where nobody knows us?”
“Are you always this much trouble?” Cheryl asked, though she obviously didn’t expect an answer, since she grabbed Lexie’s arm and led her up the steps to the front door, which was wide open. “Not much on security, is he?”
Come one, come all. It was so Kane. And James.
Half the neighbors surrounding Lake Norman had probably invited themselves. But since most of them earned their living in one way or another via NASCAR, she supposed they’d all be one happy family.
As they entered the foyer, they were instantly enveloped in the crush. To the right in the dining room, the table was covered with party food—wings, chicken fingers, chips and salsa. Several people holding red plastic cups looked as if they’d found the keg several times over. They’d no doubt be calling cabs before the party wound down. At least the neighbors could just stumble home.
Tim Butler, one of the other Hollister Racing drivers, swayed toward her, then buzzed her cheek. “Are we awesome, or what?”
All three Hollister teams had made The Chase. No other owner had achieved that feat. And since Bob Hollister was such a well-respected man in racing, she doubted anyone begrudged him the windfall.
As they moved toward the back of the house, they ran into many more people they knew, including members of their own team and veteran driver Mike Streetson, whose tanned, weathered face and mischievous smile always made her think of the Gulf fisherman near the beach house she and her father used to rent at Christmas each year.
When she and Cheryl reached the kitchen, they found Pete acting as bartender.
His eyes flew wide at the sight of Cheryl and her spectacular curves. “Something I can get you ladies?”
“Not beer,” Cheryl said, wrinkling her nose. “You have any champagne?”
“You bet.” He winked, his attraction to Cheryl obvious. “This is a classy joint.”
He served her a glass in an actual flute—which James must have rented for the night, as Lexie couldn’t imagine Kane owning champagne glasses.
“And what can I get you?” he asked, turning to Lexie, his gaze drifting down her body and lingering in places it certainly wouldn’t in the garage or on the track.
“You do remember I’m your boss, right?” Lexie said when his gaze finally landed back on her face.
“Oh. I—” His face flushed, and he cleared his throat. “Oh, right. Champagne?”
“Sure.”
“You look really…nice,” he said somewhat hesitantly and not meeting her gaze as he handed over the wine.
“Thanks.”
“Ignore her,” Cheryl said with an eye roll in her direction. “She’s repressed.”
“I am not.”
Cheryl smiled. “Prove it.”
Knowing full well she was being dared into seeking out her date, Lexie gulped half the glass of champagne, then rolled her shoulders. “I’m going outside.”
After sliding through the crowd, she walked through the open sliding-glass doors and onto the back deck. The spectacular view always stole her breath for a second or two. The sun was setting behind the trees in vivid colors of orange, pink and purple, and the receding light dotted the lake like diamonds.
The back of Kane’s house was its strength. The builder had constructed a series of multilevel decks with custom designs carved into the cedar railings. The decks spread out wide, then ventured close to the water’s edge. The grotto-style pool was nestled on the right side of the house, surrounded by tropical foliage, featuring natural-rock waterfalls, fountains, a hot tub and artful lighting.
Dozens of people talked and laughed in small groups. Some had settled in the lounge chairs by the pool. Everybody seemed to be having a great time.
By contrast, nerves jangled in Lexie’s stomach. She’d eaten very little for dinner, and the gulp of champagne was making her head swim. She set the half-full glass on a table that had collected several other cups and plates, then swallowed her anxiety and searched the decks for Kane.