Accelerated Passion (8 page)

“A Big Mac?”

“Yep.” He shut his laptop and stood. “Indigestion in a bun.” He stepped away from the table. “I’m going to put this on charge.”

She nodded. “You forgot something.” On the surface of the table was a piece of paper, it looked like it had a picture on it. Frankie picked it up.

It appeared to be a child’s drawing. A tiger, a racing car, and four stick people—three adults and a child—all holding hands.

“Is this yours?” She handed it over.

“Yeah. It is.” He looked at it, a slight smile curving his lips.

“A little fan draw it for you?”

He paused. “Henri is my biggest little fan.”

“Henri?”

“Yes. My son.”

His son?

Dean appeared to pull in a deep breath. As though saying the word had taken a bolt of courage.

“I didn’t know you—”

“We went to the zoo yesterday. Hence the tiger.” He turned and strode across the kitchen, his footsteps loud on the hard floor.

Frankie stayed rooted to the spot and watched him disappear from the room. Dean Cudditch had a son? A son called Henri. Was he in Germany? Who was his mother? And why was it a secret? He took him to the zoo?

She took a step. Wondering about going after him and asking more questions, but stopped herself. Dean would have stayed to talk if he’d wanted to tell her more.

Instead, she sat and finished her drink. The tiger…on the picture. So a trip to the zoo had started that reference, nothing to do with gorgeous girls with long claws. He’d genuinely had an outing to see a tiger…with his son.

And a Big Mac for his dinner. Presumably, Henri had insisted on McDonald’s for his meal today.

So what age was he? Not very old judging by his drawing abilities. Frankie wasn’t particularly experienced with children and definitely not an expert on their artwork, but she’d guess about five or six.

And was Henri the reason Dean was in Hockenheim so early? He could be anywhere this week—sunning himself in the Maldives, partying in Vegas—yet he was here, hanging out with his mechanics…and spending time with Henri.

Frankie finished her drink, then dropped the can in the recycling bin. She’d head for a shower and perhaps get the chance to talk to Dean about it more later.

As she went up the stairs, she couldn’t help a pang of guilt. She’d presumed her driver was fucking his days away in fancy hotels with a group of stunning young women. In reality it seemed he’d been playing Daddy.

Dean’s door was open.

She stepped past it.

“Frankie,” he called.

Her heart did an annoying flip at hearing him call her name. She liked the way he said it in his deep, slightly scratchy voice.

“Yes.”

He appeared in the doorway. “Come in.”

He turned, and she stared at the way his T-shirt stretched across his back, tight over his shoulder blades and fitted around his waist. It was untucked, and his casual jeans hung low on his hips. His feet were bare.

She followed him in then stopped in the middle of the room.

He was staring out of the window, arms folded.

“Did you want something?” she asked, studying the way his hair was cut short and neat at his nape.

“I don’t tell many people about Henri.”

“Okay.” Did he think she’d go to the press? Jesus. As if!

“It’s…delicate.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

He faced her. “It’s not a massive secret. I just don’t advertise it. It’s best for Henri and his mother and his stepfather that way.”

“Whatever you think. It’s not my business.” She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her loose work trousers.

He tipped his head and studied her. “You’re on my team. Hell, you’re one of the most senior members of the team. I have no problem with you knowing more about my personal life.”

“You mean other than what’s splashed around the papers and the gossip mags?”

“Don’t believe everything you read.” He kind of smirked.

“I don’t. But some of it’s true.”

“Sure. But they sensationalize everything to sell papers.” He shrugged and unfolded his arms. “I get that, and…well, I’ve had my fun in the past.”

“But not anymore.”

“Not so much and definitely not here. Hockenheim is all about spending time with my boy, well, as much as work and Bridget will allow.”

“Bridget. Is that his mother?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “We had a one-night-stand, six years ago. Henri is the result. Stupid to be so careless, but now…” He paused. “One of the best things I ever did.”

Frankie said nothing, waited for him to continue.

“There’s no question he’s mine. Been a feisty little character from the beginning and even has my nose.” He ran his index finger over the bridge of his nose. “And my eyes.”

Frankie smiled. “A mini-me.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You got a picture?”

“Sure.” He quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He stepped up to her and flipped it open.

A small photograph of a young boy with jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes smiled at the camera. He wore what looked like a green school uniform complete with a little tie.

“Yes, he does look like you.” She breathed deep, enjoying the scent of Dean’s aftershave. “He’ll be a heartbreaker when he’s older.”

Fuck. Why had she said that
?

Dean laughed and shut the wallet. He stayed close. “He has dreams of becoming a vet. He’s animal-crazy. I guess he gets that from his mother.”

“She’s married again then? You said Henri has a stepfather.”

“Yes, she married her high school sweetheart and has two more younger children.” He shrugged. “I have no illusions about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was nothing more than a romp in the sack, a night of fun to her. Something she could tell her mates about. She’d gotten off with Dean Cudditch.” He shook his head. “But then Henri turned up, and that’s tied us to each other forever.”

“But you get on okay, I’m guessing, if you can organize to have days out with him when you’re in town?”

“Sure, she’s a decent human being, though a bit uptight, and an awesome mother. She wants what’s right for Henri, and so do I.”

“And that’s to know who his real father is.”

“Exactly.” He stepped away, back to the window, and appeared to study the horizon. “Of course, I’m a pretty crap father when push comes to shove.”

“What do you mean?”

His shoulders slumped slightly. “My job doesn’t allow for me to be around for the school run or for Saturday morning football training. Or even for being there on birthdays and Christmas. Not that I don’t spoil him on those special days, I do, it’s just, well, presents come through the mail as a general rule…”

“He’s got another family, other siblings.”

“That’s exactly it.” He turned. A frown creased his brow. “He has another family who are there every day for him, and I don’t want to upset that status quo. He’s happy, settled, content. We have fun together. I breeze in, spoil him rotten. We laugh, make memories. But that’s all it is.”

“But he knows you, and he’ll grow up having you as part of his life. Small doses perhaps, but there.”

“That’s what I hope.”

“Seems to me you have it all figured out.”

“You think?” He rubbed his chin.

“It’s the best you can all do. A compromise. Seems to me Henri has come first in all of these decisions.”

“He has, definitely.” He smiled. “And he’s a great kid. Doing well at school, speaks two languages fluently, just got a puppy who is driving his mother crazy, but he’s in love with it.”

Frankie smiled. “It sounds like he’s thriving, and you can’t ask for more than that.”

Dean ran his hand up his cheek then scrubbed his fingertips against his temple. “He
is
thriving.”

“But it makes you miss him more after you’ve spent time together.”

He set his gaze on her. “Yes. It makes me wonder if I made the right choices back then. Walking away, not proposing and settling in suburbia when she told me she was pregnant with my child.”

Frankie stepped up to him. A wave of certainty washed through her. “We can only do what we feel is right at the time, no more and no less.” She looked up at his handsome face. “And you, Dean-World-Champion-three-times-over-Cudditch are a Formula One legend. The sport wouldn’t be the same without you. You push it up a level, push the other drivers, the mechanics, the evolution of the cars. You really think you’d be happy driving the school run in a Volvo estate?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have gone that far.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Did you really want to marry Bridget?”

“No, not at all. I didn’t even know her.” He shook his head. “But I bedded her. Shit. You must think I’m an asshole.”

“No.” She smiled. “You like sex. So what?”

“I do.” He stepped a little closer. “Like sex, that is.”

She swallowed. “So you made the right decision. By not marrying her, I mean. If you didn’t even know her.”

“Yeah. You’re right. It was a night of fun, nothing more.”

Fuck. He liked sex.
She
liked sex, too—not that she was getting any. Was she really standing in Dean Cudditch’s bedroom, talking about illegitimate children and sex?

It seemed she was.

“Frankie…”

His eyes had darkened to the color of the sky before a storm. His lips held a slight sheen to them—so damn kissable.

“I should go.” She nodded at the door. “Shower, you know. I’m filthy…dirty…” She glanced down at herself.

“Filthy and dirty? Not a bad way to be.”

She frowned. “Get your mind from the gutter.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. A deep booming sound.

“What’s so funny?” She rammed her hands onto her hips.

“You.”

“Why?”

“One minute, you’re one of the blokes. Then you’re a sweet girl and, to be honest, damn sexy with it. Then you’re being Miss Prim and Proper.”

“I am not Miss Prim and Proper.”

“So that’s the only one of those descriptions you object to?”

He thinks I’m sweet and sexy?

“Just remember.” She stabbed her finger against her chest then wished she hadn’t when she felt hard muscle beneath his T-shirt. Damn, what was she going to say? It had slipped her mind. Hard muscle, solid pecs…

“Remember what?”

“That I…”

He raised his eyebrows. “What were you going to say, babe?”

Ah, yes, that was it. Was it?

“That if you call me babe again—”

“I know. It’s burned into my brain. You’ll make sure I end the day without my nuts intact.”

She frowned.

“I just wondered what else might happen while you were down there. Can’t blame a guy.” He glanced at his groin.

She tutted, loudly. “Behave.”

“Doesn’t happen often.”

Frankie gave him one last withering look then walked from the room. Just when she thought she was having a decent and meaningful conversation with him. The moment she stopped thinking he was a prize dickhead, he’d ruined it all.

He’d said she was sexy!

The car was sleek and shiny, ready to leave the pits and hit the track. There was a buzz in the air as the crew waited for Dean to arrive and take it on its first test run on the Hockenheim.

Frankie waited nervously with Paul. They’d tweaked some of the aerodynamics, minor adjustment, at her suggestion and were hoping it might knock a tenth of a second off his fastest lap.

Dean strode into the workshop, dressed in his driving suit.

As usual, the atmosphere changed when he appeared. The car was the star of the show, but without the conductor, the orchestra that was the finely and exquisitely tuned machine couldn’t make a tune.

“Hey,” he said, grinning as he looked around. “Ready to take on the circuit?”

“We sure are,” Paul said, handing Dean a helmet. “Great conditions for it, too.”

“How long we got?”

“An hour if we need it.”

“Shouldn’t take that long, should it?”

“No,” Frankie said. “We’ve just tweaked a few things, want to see if we can gain time.”

“Your fastest around here is…” Paul frowned and tapped the side of his head.

“Fifty-eight point two-three,” Frankie finished for him.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And you think I can scrape that back?”

“Worth a go.” She ran her hand over the bonnet. “Just keep her in one piece.”

“Well, I’ve never planned on crashing, even though I’ve had a few knocks.” He tugged up his fire retardant mask so only his eyes were showing. “And I’m definitely not planning on doing that on this goddamn graveyard track.”

“Good.” She glanced around, ensuring the mechanics were all in order. They didn’t want to waste their time slot by not being prepared.

Dean slipped into the seat. Instantly, Enrique was there with the wheel. Two other guys worked on the seatbelt, checking his safety. Paul and Jake removed the bricks at the front.

The engine started.

“Here goes.” Dean gave her a mock salute. His voice was muffled through the helmet.

She nodded then held up her stopwatch.

The car rumbled as it left the pits then growled at the starting line.

The flag dropped.

She started the clock.

The car roared away, the back end giving one quick tail shake as the acceleration almost took it to break point.

Within seconds the sound faded.

Paul and Jake and the other mechanics went to watch the screen, but Frankie stayed where she was with her attention on the finish line. She hoped her minor adjustments would make a difference. It would make her move to McLaren worthwhile. It would make sense to Eric and Dean why she’d been recruited.

“Do you think he will do it?” Enrique asked.

“Let’s hope so.” Her heart pounded. Butterflies swarmed in her belly. “Maybe not on the first lap, but we’ve got a few chances.”

The screech of the car’s engine had dulled, but within seconds, it started to strengthen. Dean was heading their way again. Likely past the three-quarter mark by now.

Frankie’s thumb hovered over the stopwatch. She kept her focus on the line and concentrated on the sounds of the engine whacking up and down the gears as he negotiated a couple of particularly notorious and dangerous bends.