Sweet Carolina (4 page)

“They know their barbeque too,” he agreed.
“It's not like I need the money.”

Her heart rate sped up and her confidence
level accompanied it. No, Dell Wayne didn't need money. He'd won
enough races on his own to ensure a more than comfortable lifestyle
for some time to come. Add Caudell Senior's estate to the bottom
line, and Dell could sit on his ass for the rest of his life. She
was counting on that being the antithesis of what he wanted.

“But you need a ride,” she stated.

“I need a ride, and you need a driver.”

“Good.” Relief poured through her and she
loosened her grip on her purse. “I'll call you when the contract is
ready.”

* * * *

Dell closed the door behind her and watched
through the sidelight as Caro walked to her car. Who would have
thought little Carolina Hawkins would grow up to look like that?
When he opened the door and saw her standing on his porch, he
thought he was hallucinating. He'd heard she was back, and running
Hawkins Racing, but he hadn't seen her until tonight.

Damn. Now he understood some of the bawdy
comments he'd heard around the garage. Caro had always been pretty,
but she'd also been a tomboy – smudged with dirt and grease. She
couldn't go five minutes without getting dirty.

She wasn't dirty tonight. Nope. Her classy
clothes were spotless with that crisp,
don't-even-try-to-guess-how-much-I-cost look about them. Her father
had been right to send her away. She turned into a first-class
lady, and a beautiful one too. When her taillights were out of
sight, he shook his head and returned to the den and the six-pack
he'd been working his way through when she came calling.

He opened another bottle and downed half in
one long pull. The cold liquid did nothing to ease the ache in his
groin or erase the image of Caro Hawkins' shapely ass from his
memory. The skinny tomboy wasn't skinny anymore. She'd developed
more curves than the track at Sonoma, and those legs… what he
wouldn't give to see the full straightaway of those. Preferably
wrapped around his hips, or spread on his bed. Then there was the
thing she did with her hair. Some sort of tight coil intended to
ward off the entire male population, but having the opposite
effect. On Caro, it looked utterly feminine and screamed a
challenge no human with a y chromosome could ignore. He had a
sneaking suspicion if you got the hair to unwind, the prim little
skirt she was wearing, and the silk blouse would disappear faster
than a pit stop.

But he wasn't going to be the one to make it
happen. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he agreed to drive for
her. She was the boss, and Dell had never screwed an employer, and
he sure as hell wasn't going to start now. No matter what.

Besides, this was Caro Hawkins. He'd raced
her Big Wheel-to-Big Wheel when they were kids. He wondered if she
still liked peanut butter and banana sandwiches and RC Cola or if
her tastes were more sophisticated now, like the way she dressed.
There wasn't much about the new Caro Hawkins that resembled the one
he remembered, except those eyes, and those lips. He'd been barely
old enough to start noticing those things when her dad sent her
away.

He'd hated like hell for her to go, but
seeing the way she turned out, it was a good thing. No one in the
Hawkins' garage would have gotten a damned thing done with her
around. Throwing all that brewing estrogen into a garage full of
testosterone would have ignited one hell of a blaze. He wasn't
entirely sure it wouldn't now. Sure, she was older, and presumably
able to rein in her sexuality when need be, and now that she was
the boss, even more off limits than when she was the boss'
daughter.

That was crap. Everything about her was
feminine, from her womanly curves to the intelligence in her eyes.
Her presence would disrupt a garage full of eunuchs.

What the hell was he thinking? Did he want a
ride that bad? He drained the rest of his beer and let his head
drop against the back. No. He didn't want a ride that bad – he
needed a ride that bad. The only time he was able to forget was
when he was driving – fast. The faster, the better.

The NASCAR official accused him of being
suicidal on the track. They didn't have a clue what they were
talking about. On the track was the only time he wasn't suicidal.
Behind the wheel of a stock car, he didn't have time to think about
anything but self-preservation. Get distracted for a fraction of a
second, and it would be all over. That was enough to keep him
focused on staying alive.

It was all the other times – like tonight –
before Caro Hawkins showed up on his doorstep with her offer of
salvation. Those were the times when his life was in danger – from
himself. From his memories. Too much time alone with those memories
messed with his head.

At least Caro had given him something else to
think about tonight. His hand went to his fly and he wondered if
she'd have this effect on him when he was driving. He'd never tried
driving with a hard-on before. It would be a new experience. Dell
laughed. At least it was something new to contemplate. Better than
trying to solve the mysteries of the universe, or dwelling on a
past he couldn't change or a future that didn't exist.

* * * *

Caro drove out of Dell Wayne's gated
community and turned into the first strip-mall parking lot she came
to. Parking underneath a light standard – safety first, even in
this enclave of the extremely wealthy, she dropped her forehead to
the steering wheel between her tightly clenched hands.

Holy cow. What had she done?

The racing world was going to have a field
day with this. Hawkins Racing didn't need the kind of publicity
Dell would generate – they only needed to win. And lord knew, she
didn't need Dell Wayne. Want? That was something entirely
different.

Caro pushed away from the steering wheel and
peeled her fingers loose. A tap on her window had her almost
jumping out of her skin. A uniformed officer peered at her,
signaling with his index finger for her to roll the window down.
She lowered the glass half an inch and asked to see his badge.
Satisfied he was the real thing, she powered the window down the
rest of the way.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Are you okay, ma'am?”

“I'm fine. I needed to…” stop shaking? “rest
a minute,” she said. “It's been a long day.”

“You might want to switch off the engine,
ma'am.”

“Yes, good point.” Caro turned the key and
smiled back at the officer.

He asked a few more questions, and being
convinced Caro was fine, he bid her a good evening and walked away.
She waited until he drove off before she allowed herself to slump
in her seat.

Caro took in a deep, calming breath. The
first full one she'd taken since Dell opened his front door and she
got her first, up close look at the adult version of the kid she'd
known. The ratty T-shirt he wore should have been a turn-off, but
the way the thin cotton stretched across those broad shoulders… and
when he moved, it hinted at firm muscles everywhere else. It was
hot. And those jeans that looked like they'd been washed a million
times? Oh, dear lord. The denim was faded all over, but in just the
right places – a white denim whammy to the gut. The man needed new
jeans. Jeans that didn't draw attention to places she shouldn't be
looking. Or thinking about.

It wasn't seemly for a boss to lust… look at
an employee that way. Like he was the last hot biscuit in the pan,
with butter and honey oozing all over it.

Caro swallowed hard and licked her lips. She
wouldn't mind having a taste of Dell Wayne. Just one little lick.
Maybe on his forearm. That would be safe enough. As long as she
didn't stray to the crook of his elbow where the skin looked so… or
his neck. Heaven forbid if she licked his neck. She'd have to get
real close to do that. Bodies touching close. Close enough to feel
what lay underneath that T-shirt and those jeans. And if that
happened, one lick probably wouldn't be enough.

Tires screeched and an engine roared nearby.
Caro's head snapped up, and so did reality. This was ridiculous,
sitting in a parking lot, lusting after a man she couldn't have. He
was her driver. Or he would be, as soon as she got his signature on
a contract, and that couldn't come soon enough. She looked around,
spied a Starbucks on the far end of the shopping center, and headed
toward it.

She ordered a venti hot chocolate, extra
whipped cream, and took a seat by the window. The chocolate went a
long way to calming her nerves. She'd made the biggest business
deal of her life, and arguably, one of the stupidest. What did she
really know about Dell Wayne? He'd burst into the Cup series four
years ago, touted as the up-and-coming driver by all the reporters.
And then his father died.

Caro sipped the warm drink and tried not to
dwell on the negative, though it was hard to ignore the facts. Dell
had been suspended from NASCAR, and fired from Anderson Racing for
a reason, and it wasn't because of his innovative driving. But even
when Dell was living up to his nickname, Madman, there was
something about the way he drove that hinted at the potential he'd
once shown the world. Things rarely happened
to
Dell.
Everything, even the crashes, appeared calculated, planned,
instigated – by Dell himself.

She sighed, finished her drink and tossed it
into the bin by the door on her way out. She had work to do.
Contracts to draft, a sponsor to win over to her new driver, and a
fire suit to order. Getting Dell into a fire suit was high
priority. Then she'd only have to look at his face and his hands.
Hands that didn't resemble the ones she remembered in the least.
She groaned. She wouldn't think about his hands, or his long
fingers, or how strong they had to be to control a racecar. Or what
they would feel like on her skin. Rough. Competent. Hot.

Gloves. She needed to order gloves. And a
helmet. With a visor.

Chapter Four

Whatever made her think a fire suit was a
good idea? Caro eyed the man standing in her office in the brand
new fire suit – complete with gloves. The red piping on black
around the neckline and waistband accented his slim physique, and
extended over his shoulders, down his arms and the length of his
legs, drawing attention to his height. He flexed his fingers in the
buttery leather gloves and her lady parts tingled. She ignored the
ill-timed feeling. After a week of seeing Dell almost every day,
she had lots of experience ignoring those feelings.

“Too tight?” she asked.

“No. It's perfect. You did good, Caro.”

“Your measurements were on file. I just told
them what colors to use.”

“Well, it's all good. I appreciate it. The
ride, I mean. The suit too.”

“You're welcome.”

“All's square with the sponsor?” he
asked.

Caro tapped her finger on the contract in
front of her. “Yep. They came by and signed the new contract this
morning. They even increased their involvement to include free ice
cream if you win.”

Dell's smile lit up the room, as well as a
few other things. “Free ice cream. That's quite a commitment.”

“Laugh if you will, but they're stocking up
on ice cream.”

His smile dimmed.” They have that much
confidence in my ability?”

“Of course they do. Why wouldn't they?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I've wrecked
more than I've won in the last few years?”

“Or maybe they know what a good driver you
are?”

“I'll try, Caro. That's all I can do.”

“It's all I'm asking, Dell.”

Caro admired his butt as he left her office.
The man had it going on back there too. She frowned at his
retreating backside. His body might be hot, but his personality ran
hot and cold, and Caro never knew what to expect. One minute he was
laughing about free ice cream, and the next, he was scowling and
making excuses. He'd been moody as a kid, but never like this.

Caro tried to remember the adolescent Dell.
As kids, they'd both had their disagreements with their dads.
Caro's didn't want her in the garage, and Dell's didn't want him
racing. Through it all, Dell was a happy kid – except those times
he argued with his dad. Caudell Senior could be a hard man when he
wanted to be, but Caro remembered him, if not fondly, respectfully.
Like her dad, Caudell wanted what he believed was best for his only
child, and it never occurred to him, said child might want
something different. Both men were used to getting their way.

But Caro and Dell defied the odds, and look
where they were. Well, look where Dell was. He was one of the best,
while Caro still had a lot to prove. So why was Dell so quick to
put down his abilities? Surely, he recognized his own talent.

When he was out of sight, Caro turned her
attention to the new contracts. Once she announced Dell Wayne was
going to drive for them, Caro received several sponsorship offers
she had yet to consider. They weren't major offers, but a sponsor
was a sponsor. Dell would be on the racetrack in a few days, and
the more endorsements, the better. Caro was grateful her father's
lawyer was still willing to look over the contracts: but as the new
owner of the company, it was her duty to at least read through
them. She looked forward to the day when she could afford to hire
people to manage the office so she could spend more time in the
garage. She understood the mechanical end of the business better
than she did the business end.

Caro penned acceptance letters for two new
sponsors. The contracts were small, but they were solid backing,
just what she needed if Hawkins Racing was going to make it.
Restoring the team to its former glory wasn't going to be easy, but
Caro vowed to do it. If she could get a positive cash flow going,
and perfect the new engine design she'd been working on for the
last few years, Hawkins Racing would, once again, be a respected
name in auto racing.