This Time, Forever (14 page)

Patsy nodded. “Ben's an honorable man. He'd never do something like that, no matter how unhappy he might be with his career circumstances. And he's so much more than just a driver, too. He supports charities, volunteers his time all over the place and mentors the rookie drivers. That's not the kind of man who skulks about with another woman.”

Susie sighed. “Okay, maybe. But there have been other instances of people leading secret lives.”

“I know it's happened, but not with your husband,” Patsy replied. “From what Dean says, Ben turns beet-red when he tries to bluff at poker. I think you're just too close to the situation to see it clearly.”

“I could be. It's tough to be objective when your husband goes all silent on you.” Susie could feel her own color rising at even the thought of what she needed to share next. But she needed to do this for both her and Ben. “There's one more thing. Our love life isn't what it used to be. In fact, it's virtually nonexistent. He's always too tired, or the kids are giving us trouble, or…” She trailed off and shrugged her shoulders. “It just isn't happening.”

“Midlife crisis,” Rue said firmly. “Men really get into that.”

“A midlife crisis
now?
” Susie asked. “It seems so early.”

“You're, what, forty? I know this because I brought the cake that Tuesday night,” Rue said. “And Ben's close to the same age, right?”

“Yes?”

“Then when do you think a midlife crisis might come into the picture?” Rue asked.

“Maybe when we're fifty-five or so?”

Patsy laughed. “So you're planning to live to be one hundred and ten?”

Susie had to laugh, too, when she considered the math.

“Absolutely,” she replied.

“So, ladies, we agree that a midlife crisis could be at play here?” Rue asked the gathering.

Everyone but Mellie nodded.

“You're a little out of my league on this. What would be the signs?” the normally quiet woman asked.

“If Ben weren't a NASCAR driver, I'd say suddenly buying a motorcycle or a hot sports car, but these guys did that as soon as they had two nickels to rub together,” Patsy said.

“There's always the new haircut,” Sheila offered. “Or worse yet, they grow a weird little goatee.”

“Ben doesn't have those,” Mellie said.

“And then there's the sudden silences and the inattentiveness to the wife,” Rue added.

“Which Ben has been doing,” Susie said.

“And the mysterious behavior as he tries to grab back youth,” Sheila said.

Susie sighed.

“Midlife crisis,” Patsy confirmed. “But at least you know what you're dealing with.”

“But what's the solution? Old age?” Susie asked, feeling somewhere south of glum.

“No, the solution is to spice it up. You need to bring pizzazz back into Ben's life,” Patsy said.

“Pizzazz,” Susie repeated. “I don't know that we had pizzazz back before we had Cammie and Matt.”

“Sure you did!” Rue exclaimed. “What's the craziest place you ever made love?”

A memory came back to Susie, one so hot that she nearly needed to fan herself.

“I'm not sharing that information, but I'll admit we had pizzazz,” she told the Tarts.

“Get it back, woman!” Rue cried.

Then the Tarts did what they did best, and set to planning.

Q
UALIFYING DAY
held a mathematical simplicity that appealed to Ben. Charlotte equaled a maximum of two laps around a 1.5-mile oval track, the frontstretch longer than the backstretch, Turns Three and Four shorter than One and Two. Drive fast, qualify well. Drive slow, bring up the rear. He wished the rest of life could be broken down into such basic components. Maybe it could, and he just wasn't seeing the patterns. The one pattern he clearly sensed at this moment, though, was that of he and Chris Sampson circling each other like angry badgers.

Prequalifying practice done, Ben and Chris stood on opposite sides of the No. 515 car, which rested in its garage. The crew was beginning basic work to tweak it before tonight's qualifying laps. Chris had, as usual, issued orders in terse phrases of as few words as possible, and wasn't otherwise communicating with the team's two mechanics.

“Anything else other than the vibration you noticed in the final lap?” Sampson asked Ben without looking up from his clipboard.

“No.”
Or I would have mentioned it.

“The car checked out fine this morning.”

Had it been any other person, Ben would have put the comment down to idle chat during troubleshooting. Not so with his crew chief.

“I'm sure it did,” he said. “All I'm saying is that now you need to have this issue checked out.”

“And all I'm saying is that I heard you the first time.”

Ben glanced at the two mechanics, who stood at the front of the car with the hood up. Both looked pretty much like they wanted to crawl in with the engine.

“Chris, step outside with me,” he said, making it clear this was a demand and not a request.

“No time,” Sampson replied.

“Problem, gentlemen?” asked a voice from the back of the car.

Both Ben and Chris turned to see Gil Sizemore standing there.

“No problem here,” Sampson said.

“Big one here,” Ben replied.

Gil hitched his thumb toward the garage's open door.

“Let's take a walk, Ben.”

Ben wasn't sure where this was going to get him, but anyplace had to be better than where he was.

“I take you and Chris haven't come up with some sort of working arrangement?” Gil asked as they walked down the long row of garage stalls.

“We have…just not the same one,” Ben replied.

“It's affecting your focus,” Gil said. “That's clear to all of us.”

“He's no Steve Benedict,” Ben said, referring to his former crew chief.

“I know. And I know that you and Steve had been together eight years…half your NASCAR career. I like Steve, but it was time to split you two up. You'd grown stagnant.”

“I like to think of it as comfortable.”

“Comfortable is when you're consistently in the Chase. It's not when you're no longer making the Chase.”

Ben couldn't argue with that.

“Look, Ben, I agree this has been tough, but it's my team and I have to make decisions that will benefit everyone. Chris is hungry,” Gil said. “He knows that his future hinges on how well this team does.”

“That holds true for all of us,” Ben replied. “But the rest of us have been around the track enough times to know that success comes from unity, not creating divided loyalties.”

“And you think he does that?”

“He treats me with a lack of respect in front of the rest of the team. He could do less harm by jamming a screwdriver into the car's gearbox.”

Gil kept silent, and if Ben really gave a damn about his future, maybe he should do the same. But he applied a little math to this situation, and it came out damned if he spoke and damned if he didn't. He opted to speak.

“Look, I know I'm walking a thin line with Double S these days, so I've kept my mouth shut. But here's how Sampson's arrival has been playing out for me. You fire the guy who's been my closest coworker for half my career and then bring in his replacement without consulting me. It's your team, your choices, and I understand and usually appreciate the way you manage. Not this time, though.”

Gil stopped walking, so Ben did, too.

“So what you're telling me is that we have a difference of opinion regarding my choice of Chris Sampson.”

“Yes,” Ben replied.

“And you understand Chris is here to stay.”

“Yes.”

“As you said, my team, my choices. And I make them to win. Given that all of this is fact, what do you propose to do?” Gil asked.

“Same thing as always. Race to win.”

Double S's owner nodded. “That's a good start.”

And a good ending to a career, too, Ben thought.

 

B
Y
F
RIDAY EVENING
, Susie was sure of one thing: she should have read more issues of
Cosmo
. Okay, maybe she should have read even one issue. Or attended a school for seductresses, if there was such a thing.

“And if there isn't, there should be,” she said to her reflection in her dressing room mirror. If there were, Susie feared she'd be in the running for class clown.

Rue sold a wonderful line of cosmetics at the salon, but her friend's enthusiasm while doing her makeup had led to a heavy hand. And before that, Susie had been waxed, pedicured, shampooed and styled to within an inch of her life. Since she was far more a nature girl than the primp-and-perfume sort, she'd left the salon suffering from sensory overload.

Add to that craziness an afternoon spent talking business and scheduling a Monday appointment with boutique chain owner Martine Roulot, getting Matt to soccer, Cammie to her riding lesson, and both of them through their homework before they went to the Grosso farm for an overnight. In theory, Cammie was there to babysit for little Lily, who Mellie had allowed to become part of the Tarts' plans, and Matt to help Patsy set up the video game system she'd purchased.

The scheme was a little convoluted, yes, but it was better than having to inform her children that she needed
them gone for the evening in order to have her way with their father. Heaven knew it was times like these that Susie wished for blood family who lived closer, instead of them all being in Tennessee. But her NASCAR family had become as close as kin, as their efforts on her behalf tonight proved.

Susie turned away from the mirror before she chickened out, wiped off the makeup, slipped out of the four inch high heels, and put the “barely there” pale blue silk dress Patsy had found her back on its hanger. She walked out of the dressing room on wobbly ankles as her stilettos sunk into the thick ivory carpet. There was a reason she wore flats 99.9% of the time, and this was it. Nothing was seductive about an ankle sprain. Many mincing steps later, she settled into her armchair in front of the bedroom fireplace. There, at least she had her knitting to distract her until Ben arrived home.

Susie pulled out the bell sleeve for a royal blue mohair holiday sweater she'd started work on earlier in the week. In time, the steady rhythm of her knitting soothed her…right until she heard the sound of the motion sensor by the back door chiming, and then Ben's familiar footsteps on the floor below. She set aside her work and made her miraculously injury-free way to the top of the stairs.

“I'm home,” Ben called, though she couldn't see him yet.

Susie felt just a tad too Scarlett O'Hara standing at the top of the circular staircase, but the Tarts had insisted that the most dramatic start to the evening would be if he saw her there.

“I'm upstairs,” she called.

Ben appeared from the hallway that led toward the den and then the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said for lack of a sexier greeting.

Ben just stood there for about five of Susie's heartbeats, each of which echoed strongly in her ears.

“Are we going out?” he finally asked. “Did I forget about a sponsor cocktail party?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, on which he always kept his schedule.

“No, we're home for the evening,” she replied. “Why don't you go on into the den?”

“Where are the kids?” Ben looked around as though they might materialize from thin air.

“They're having an overnight.”

“Oh.” Still appearing vaguely lost, he ran his hand though his hair. “So…I don't need to get changed or put on a tie or anything?”

“No, you're wonderful the way you are. Go on into the den. I'll be right there.” She preferred that there be no witness as she teetered her way downstairs with a white-knuckle grip on the handrail.

When Susie arrived in the den, her husband stood in the middle of the room, again looking like a stranger in a strange land. She had gathered all the memorabilia she could from their first trip to New York City sixteen years earlier, when Ben's Rookie of the Year honors had been celebrated at NASCAR's annual banquet. Those had been heady times, both for Ben and for them as a couple.

“Champagne?” she offered.

“Sure,” Ben replied, then wandered to the mantel, which she'd adorned with photos of the two of them from that banquet night. She'd been wearing a dress the color of the one she had on now, but it had been much more conservative in cut and fabric. He hadn't
been able to keep his eyes off her that night. Tonight, not so much.

Susie removed the foil and wire cage from the champagne and set them on the cocktail table in front of the sofa, where two glasses also waited. Keeping Patsy's advice of “turn the bottle, not the cork” well in mind due to the hefty price tag on the bubbly, Susie opened it and was rewarded with a sharp
pop
. Once she'd filled two glasses, she handed one to Ben.

“This is the same champagne we had that night,” she said.

He took a sip. Susie watched as he tried—and failed—to hide a grimace.

“You don't like it?” she asked.

“It's just hitting the bottom of an empty stomach pretty hard.” He sat in a wingback chair perpendicular to the much more couples-friendly sofa. “It's been a long day. I'm whipped.”

Clearly, she was at the bottom of the bell curve when it came to seduction school grades. She needed to regroup. “I have some appetizers. Should I go get them?”

“That would be great,” he said in a slow and sleepy voice.

“Okay, then.” Susie headed to the den's door and considered making her next stop the hills. “And babe?”

She turned back.

“You look pretty.”

“Thank you,” Susie replied. She'd been shooting for too sexy to survive, but okay.

A couple of minutes later, she returned to the den with a tray of hors d'oeuvres that came fairly close to
what they'd had that night in New York City. She'd kept that night in her memory for so long: Ben's joy at what he'd attained, the magical feeling she'd had of being transported into a dream and the passion they'd later shared.

Susie set the tray on the cocktail table.

Ben sat up and took a spear of asparagus wrapped in a ribbon of paper thin smoked salmon.

“Fancy, but good.”

“Do you remember having this before?” she asked.

“Nope, but I like it,” he said, reaching for another one. “Hey, did I mention that I qualified tenth again? Second race in a row.”

“Fancy that,” she said, wondering if she should just plop herself down in his lap while holding his Rookie of the Year trophy. Maybe one or the other of them would earn his full attention.

Ben took another sip of his champagne. “Better now. I like the way it tastes with the salmon.”

Susie tried again. “Remember how it tasted with strawberries and whipped cream?”
In bed.

“Have I had this before?” he asked, then glanced at the bottle. “You'd think I'd remember a fancy bottle all painted up with flowers.”

“Yes, you would. Does none of this seem the least bit familiar to you?” she asked. “The champagne, the awards program, the food?” Her irritation had gone from simmer to a full boil.
“The color of this dress?”

“It matches your eyes,” he said. “Is there something else I'm missing?”

There was, and she wasn't sure at whose feet the blame lay.

“Really?” he asked blankly. “I just thought you'd decided to redecorate the den a little.”

She gestured at her dress. “You think I'd redecorate the den in
this?
”

“I don't know, honey. Maybe it makes the housework more fun?”

Susie finally snapped. “Oh, for heaven's sake! I'm trying to seduce you, Ben. And clearly I'm not doing a very good job if you can't figure that out.”

Ben rose and moved toward her. “Honey, I knew what you were doing the second I saw you at the top of those stairs. What red-blooded man wouldn't?”

He drew her into his arms. Torn between laughter and annoyance, she made a token effort to push him away. “You tease!”

“Takes one to know one, right?”

Susie gave in to the laughter. “I guess it does, Ben Edmonds.”

How had she missed that he was teasing her? Granted, it had been a long time since he'd been this free and fun, but she shouldn't have missed the way even now the sides of his mouth twitched as he worked to hold in a smile. And she should hardly have overlooked the lights that danced in his hazel eyes.

“I remember it all, sweet Susie. I remember the way you looked in that pretty blue dress…almost exactly the color of this one. I remember the way you cried when I accepted my award. I remember the way I told myself that night I'd fight to hand you the world.”

Susie could feel those tears starting again. She'd been so proud of him that she simply hadn't been able to contain it.

He kissed her once, twice…brief tastes that whetted her appetite for more.

“That night, I wanted you so much, we barely made it to our room, remember?” he asked.

Susie felt almost drugged by the pressure of his body against hers, the touch of his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck.
Remember? It was happening all over again!