Sweet Carolina (9 page)

“Number two: I've seen no evidence to
indicate you've ever done anything slow.” He opened his mouth to
protest and Caro cut him off with a wave of her hand. He closed his
mouth and she continued, using the opportunity to change the
subject to the one they should be discussing anyway. “I don't know
what's gotten into you, Dell Wayne, but you've got to rein in your
impulses – on the track. You took too many chances today. Yeah, you
won, but there were any number of stunts that could have ended
badly for you and the car. You were lucky today – that's all. You
didn't win because you were the best driver, or because you had the
best car. You won because you were lucky.”

“If you think that, you
don't
have any
business running a race team. You may have something to prove,
Caro, and I don't mind you using me to do it, but I drive to win,
and as long as I'm the one in the car, I'll decide how best to go
about it.”

“Oh really?” Caro countered. “Well, that
attitude lost you one ride this season already. It might cost you
another.”

“No, it won't. You aren't going to fire me,
Caro. Who would drive for you? Wilson? You and I both know you
aren't going to prove your point to anyone with him behind the
wheel, so let's get this straight right now. I drive. I don't
listen to non-drivers who think they can tell me how to do my job,
and that includes you. I brought home a trophy for Hawkins Racing
today. So, I didn't get another notch carved into my helmet after
the race, but you got what you wanted – another notch carved in the
stick you're trying to ram up everyone's butt. So how about this? I
won't screw Hawkins Racing,” his leer made his veiled meaning clear
– “and you don't tell me how to drive? That way, we both get what
we want.”

Dell stood and tossed his menu on the table.
“I'll see you at the airport,” he said before stalking out of the
restaurant leaving Caro stunned and alone.

She didn't know how long she sat, staring at
the doorway, clutching the menu in a death grip, but when the
waiter came to take her order, she dug some bills out of her purse
and dropped them on the table. “I've changed my mind,” she said.
“I'm not hungry after all.”

Dell was right about one thing. She wasn't
going to fire him. She needed him. But that didn't give him license
to drive like a maniac. Sure, she wanted him to win – that was the
whole point of racing, of any competition, for that matter. But the
way he was driving, she'd be lucky if he didn't drive Hawkins
Racing right into bankruptcy. Today's purse would help, but the
bottom line was, she couldn't afford for Dell to destroy many more
cars, and still stay in business. The debts she inherited along
with the race team were considerable.

As she gathered her things for the ride to
the airport and their commuter flight to Las Vegas, she idly
wondered if perhaps this had been her father's plan all along. He
couldn't bear to sell the race team – it meant too much to him to
do it while he was alive – but he hadn't wanted her to run it
either. So maybe he left it in this sorry financial state in order
to force her to sell. She did a quick estimate and decided if she
sold right now, the assets – thanks to Dell's win today, would
cover the debt with perhaps a little bit left over.

That was probably the smart thing to do, but
it was also the one thing she wasn't going to do. She loved racing.
Always had, and owning and running Hawkins Racing was her dream.
Dell's win would keep her dream alive for another race or two, and
if he won, or at least ran well in those, he would buy her more
time. Somehow, she had to convince Dell to be more conservative on
the track. The occasional win was nice, but consistently running in
the top ten was good too.

They took the hotel shuttle to the airport in
silence and cleared security before Caro decided it was time to
address the other issue between them. Dell chose a seat in the
waiting area facing the window with his back to the rest of the
travelers. Caro ignored his cold shoulder as she joined him.

“Look, Dell. About what happened in the
hauler…”

“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.

* * * *

“I want the car I drove last week,” he said.
“I know you think this one is something special, but Caro, trust
me, it won't win here. Maybe on a short track, but not here.”

“I designed this car myself, Dell. I know
what it can do,” Caro argued. “I made some adjustments, so get your
ass in the car and take it out again.”

Dell stared her down, but she refused to
cower. She believed this car was the right one for this track and
convincing her otherwise wasn't going to be easy.

“Unless you found a way to coax more RPM out
of the engine, it's a waste of time, Caro. I'll take it out again,
but it won't change the facts.”

“That's all I’m asking, Dell. Take it out one
more time. If the engine isn't performing up to standards, we'll
use the backup car again.”

“Whose standards are we talking about? Yours
or mine?” he asked.

“Mine are the only ones that count,” she
said, holding her ground. Dell felt, rather than heard, the
snickers coming from the crew. Caro could cut a man off at the
knees when she wanted to.

Dell climbed into the car, pausing with his
ass balanced on the door. “Get the backup car out of the hauler,
guys. I'll be back in a minute.” He dropped into the seat and
buckled up. One more practice run to get Caro off his back, then
he'd take the backup for a spin and show her what was what.

He had to give her credit. This car would be
good on a short track where short bursts of speed were called for,
but on a track like Vegas, or Phoenix, it couldn't sustain the
level of power it needed to be competitive, much less win.

“Are you seeing what I'm seeing?” he spoke
into his headset.

After a long pause, Caro came on. “Yes, I
see. Damnit, Dell. That engine should be capable of more. I don't
know what's wrong.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out, Caro. Now,
can I have the backup car?” he asked.

“Take her to the hauler, Dell. We've already
got the backup unloaded.”

“Roger that. Comin' in,” he said.

He switched cars, made a few practice runs
with the car he won with in Phoenix, and after making a few
suggestions to the crew, he went in search of Caro. He knew he
should stay away from her, but goddamned, that fire suit of hers
turned him on. All he had to do was look at her in the damned
thing, and his body ignited. Add her air of confidence, her
I'm-in-charge-so-do-as-I-say attitude, and he was ready to go five
hundred laps with her.

He found her in the lounge at the front of
the hauler, but she wasn't alone. She'd taken off the fire suit and
replaced it with jeans and a Hawkins Racing V-necked T-shirt that
hugged her curves like a driver's dream car. She was bent over an
open book on the laminated desk that took up two walls of the
lounge, pointing out something to the engineers flanking her.
Dell's libido shot into overdrive, and he had no doubt the other
two men in the room suffered from the same condition.

An unfamiliar emotion mixed and mingled with
his raging hormones, and he fought to keep it in check. No matter
how much Caro wanted to make her mark in the racing world and be
recognized for her abilities, there was no way to avoid being
recognized in other ways too. She was all woman – and there wasn't
a man on the circuit who wouldn't notice. For the first time, he
realized how big a task she'd set for herself.

He stifled his urge to grab her and drag her
someplace where they could be alone – someplace he could show her
how satisfying it was to be a woman, but she seemed oblivious to
the way she affected the men around her, and she probably wouldn't
appreciate him going caveman on her.

Instead of acting on his urges, he asked,
“Figure it out yet?”

Caro straightened, and in the unguarded
moment when she turned to him, he caught a glimpse of something
that resembled desire in her eyes. But as quickly as it appeared,
it vanished, and Caro, the team owner, spoke. “No, not yet. I have
some ideas though. I was going over them with Frank and Terry. I
don't know though, this engine may never be anything but a short
track engine.”

“Would that be a such a bad thing? We need a
new short track car anyway,” he said.

“Thanks to you, we do.”

So, she hadn't forgotten about the wreck at
Martinsville, or forgiven him for it. Dell shrugged. “Shit
happens.”

“Let's not go around the same old track
again, Dell,” she said, turning to her engineers. “Unless you guys
have any other ideas, why don't you go make the new adjustment?
After the official practice runs are over, we can take her back out
for another run.”

Dell moved away from the door as the other
men filed out of the lounge, leaving him alone with Caro. Memories
of them alone together the day before swamped him. That's all it
had been, one day? Jesus, it seemed like forever since he'd touched
her. He glanced her way and saw recognition in her eyes. She could
deny it 'til the cows came home, but her eyes didn't lie. Desire
burned in her gaze. He closed the distance between them, forcing
her to look up at him.