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Sweet Carolina(24)



“It won't happen again,” he said, without looking up from his magazine.

“We were both caught up in the moment, the win, and then the argument about how you won. From now on, let's not discuss the race until at least the next day. How's that? Give us some time to cool off – so to speak.”

“Fine. Whatever you want. You're the boss.”

Caro settled back in her seat and stared straight ahead. “Okay, I get it. You're still pissed you aren't going to get any, and you're placating me when you have no plans to discuss any race – ever.”

“You're quick, I'll give you that,” he said as he leisurely turned a page.

Caro sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. “Look, Dell. You and I both know I'm not going to fire you. But I do own the team, and I will give you my opinion about your driving. This is important to me – making a success out of the team. It's more than the thing about being a woman in a man's world. It's about proving to myself that my dreams are attainable. All my life, my dad told me I couldn't have my dream – not in so many words, you know, but in the things he did, like sending me away to school to keep me out of the garage. He said he wanted more for me than to marry some grease monkey, or heaven forbid, a driver. It never occurred to him I could be a team owner or that I might be good at building engines. All he ever saw for me was being someone's little woman, and he wanted that someone to be a doctor or a lawyer or anything, as long as he would keep me away from the track.”

“Well, at least your dad believed what he was doing was in your best interest. I can't say the same for mine,” Dell said.

“What do you mean?”

Dell shrugged. “Caudell was afraid…”

“Afraid of what? Afraid you'd kill yourself on the track? Because that's sure what it looks like you're trying to do.”

Dell closed his magazine, using his index finger to hold his spot, and turned to her. “No, he was afraid I would be better than him, and he couldn't stand the thought of it. So you see, Caro. You and I are alike. We both have something to prove to our old men. So, you prove your point your way, and I'll prove my point my way.”

And once again, Dell left her sitting all alone with thoughts spinning around in her head faster than a car going full throttle at Talladega.

* * * *

Well, shit. Dell crammed his carry-on into the small overhead compartment. Caro Hawkins was going to be the death of him, despite her claim he was going to die on the track.

He settled into his seat, the one he'd requested in the back of the plane, as far away from hers as possible. Now that he'd touched her, tasted her, there was no turning back. His body yearned for hers like it never had for any other woman, but his brain – the big one – screamed for him to run as fast and as far away as possible. He pretended to read a magazine, but his mind was on Caro and his conflicting emotions where she was concerned. The physical reaction to her was simple enough – red-blooded male attracted to beautiful female. He didn't need to examine it too closely, but something about his reaction to her went beyond the usual. All he'd had was a sample, a tiny taste of Caro, and every cell in his body screamed for more. His gut clenched at the thought that maybe she was the one, the one he would never get enough of.

If that weren't enough to make a man run for the hills, nothing was. Dell glanced up the aisle and caught a glimpse of her sleeve peeking out from her seat in the front of the plane. Putting twenty rows of seats between them didn't constitute running, did it? No, running would be quitting the team. He could sit out the season. Hell, if he never raced again he'd live and eat well for the rest of his life on his old man's money. Dell turned his attention back to his long-forgotten magazine. Reality check. He wasn't going to give up racing. Like Caro, he had something to prove.

Which brought him to their airport conversation. What possessed him to tell her all that? He'd never told anyone about his strained relationship with his father. It wasn't much of a secret within the racing world, but most people were reluctant to mar the sterling reputation of his revered father. Fans still bought stuff with Caudell's name, number and likeness on it, as if his ghost were going to appear suddenly and win the fucking championship. No, they didn't want to hear about the real Caudell Wayne, Senior, the one Dell knew up close and personal. They'd never believe a man could say the things to his son Caudell had.

And to think how close he'd come close to telling Caro everything. Well, it wasn't going to happen. So, where did that leave them?

Sitting twenty rows apart on a plane with only twenty-three rows, and he didn't know about her, but it wasn't nearly enough distance to keep him from wanting her.