Revving Her Up(20)

What was she afraid of? Him?

She cleared her throat. “If you could point me toward the guest room…” She stopped, a look of realization coming over her face. “Damn it,” she said under her breath.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

She pointed over her shoulder toward the garage door. “My bags. They’re in the trunk of my car. Up on the lift.”

“Nah, they’re in the garage. I took them out before I put the car up.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She started to turn away, then looked back. “Then you knew the whole time that I wasn’t going to get out of here tonight.”

He felt a twinge of guilt. Yeah, he could have mentioned it sooner. But then she’d have hied off to some hotel hours ago instead of accompanying him to the track—or spending the night here.

“That was clear as soon as I saw your car.”

Her brow creased and she took a deep breath—to tell him off like he deserved?—but let it out again like a deflating balloon. Cole itched with the need to pull her against his chest, but knew he had to take it slow. Let her call the shots now.

“Well then, I’ll get my bags and be off to the guest room. I’m sure you have better things to do tonight than entertain me.” She blushed as she said this and Cole suppressed a grin. No, he certainly did not have better things to do.

“What’s the rush? Come.” He gestured at the sofa. “Have a seat. I don’t know about you but I’m starving. I can whip something up for us in a jiff.” He thought for a moment, then pointed a finger in the air. “I know just the thing—some of my sister’s fried chicken. I’ll bet you’ve never tasted better.” He headed for the kitchen before she could protest.

Sarah followed, shaking her head. “That’s really not necessary. I mean I’m not hungry.” Her stomach chimed in with a contradictory rumble and Cole gave her a pointed look.

“Okay, maybe I am a little bit hungry. But really, you don’t have to feed me.”

“Don’t have to?” Cole stepped toward her and gently clasped her upper arms. Her floral scent rose up to his nose, mixed with the familiar scents of the track. “Darlin’, I would feed any guest who stayed with me. That’s how I was raised. But you and me? We were as close as a man and woman could be without sharing the same skin and you didn’t even buy me dinner first.” He stepped back with a wink. “Surely it’s okay for us to have a bite to eat.”

There. Now it was out in the open. If she’d thought he was going to pretend they hadn’t been doing the nasty back there at the track, she had another thing coming. Hell, he was hoping they’d do it again.

Her jaw dropped and she took a step back. “Well, if you insist,” she said and fled into the living room.

Cole took a deep breath. Cars, he knew how to fix. Stressed-out women? A different challenge entirely.

According to his mama, good food could fix almost anything. Wine couldn’t hurt either. Cole retrieved some leftovers from the fridge. He piled a plate high with cold chicken, dumped some raw veggies into a bowl and tucked a bottle of wine under his arm. It wasn’t fancy but it would do. And man, was he starving. Driving took almost as much out of a man as sex and they’d done both.

Sarah stood in the middle of the room, her arms folded. Her ample breasts rested on her forearms and the vee of her sweater gaped a bit, revealing some mighty impressive cleavage. The hard-on he’d willed away stirred once more. She looked both vulnerable and sexy, making him want to tuck her into bed and tuck into her all at the same time. Instead he approached slowly, skirting the side of the coffee table farthest away from her. He put the food down and retrieved a pair of wineglasses. After pouring wine for both of them, he settled onto the sofa.

“Have a seat.” He patted the spot next to him. Without waiting for a response, he dove into the food, taking a drumstick and a sip of wine.

Sarah crept closer and reached for the chicken, proving that food was the universal lure. Cole would have loved to believe it was his own magnetism that had attracted her, but the wariness he’d sensed since the track was still there, lurking under her New York bravado. He was dying to know what was going on, to get under the hood of this woman and see what made her run, but he bided his time. After all, races weren’t won in the first lap.

She sat down on the couch a cushion-width away from him. Silence settled between them, disturbed only by the comforting sounds of chewing and soft sips.

After demolishing one piece of chicken, Sarah reached for a second. Cole smiled. It was nice to eat with a woman who actually enjoyed her food. Eventually she leaned back against the cushions. “Who’s that?” she asked, gesturing with a half-eaten drumstick at the framed picture by the door.