This Time, Forever (15 page)

This time he kissed her deeply, with total, delicious attention to her.

“You'd better grab that champagne and take off those man-killer shoes,” he said.

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because it's about to be winner take all when I chase you up the stairs and straight to our room. I wouldn't want you to be at too much of a disadvantage.”

Laughing, Susie twined her arms around her husband's neck.

“I'll get the champagne but I'm leaving the shoes on,” she said.

His smile was slow and sexy enough to make Susie's heart skip.

“Really? Why?” he asked.

“Because you can have it all….”

 

N
IGHT WAS JUST BEGINNING
to give way to the first light of dawn. Eyes blurry, mind scarcely awake, Susie stretched and savored the delicious feeling of relaxation that lingered in the wake of last night's lovemaking. Maybe they hadn't talked, but they had reestablished an intimacy that had been lacking for far too long. Last night had reminded Susie of one central truth—Ben and she loved each other.

She reached for him, wanting his warmth all over again, but his side of the bed was empty.

Susie sat up. “Ben?”

“Over here,” he said quietly.

Focusing a little more, she made out his silhouette at the window. He'd drawn open the drapes and was standing there in his robe. What he could be looking at in the scant light, she had no idea.

“It's early yet. Why don't you come back to bed?” she suggested.

“Maybe in a minute,” he replied.

“Okay,” she replied and settled back in.

The sky grew lighter and yet Susie's bed was empty.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked her husband.

“Nothing,” he replied.

It was a lie, yet not one she chose to call him on. Last night had been good, but they weren't back on track yet.

“G
REAT WORK,
Ben.”

Ben grinned as he listened to his crew chief's words come through the two-way radio wired into his helmet.

“What did you say, Chris? I'm not sure I caught that.”

“I said great work.”

Damn right it was. Ben had just fought his way back from being tangled up in an accident to take ninth in the Charlotte race. Not only was it his best finish of the year, but he couldn't think of a single time that either reflexes or hesitation had impeded him. He didn't feel like a new man, but he didn't feel like such an old man, either.

“Thanks, Chris,” he said. “Couldn't have done it without you.”

“Right,” the younger man replied.

Ben chose to take that as “Right, and we couldn't have done it without you, either.” He would not let the crew chief's lack of interpersonal skills kill his joy.

And tonight he'd do the seducing of Susie.

After Ben had exited the car and shared his praise for a job well done with the rest of the team, he walked over to where Kane, his agent, stood at the fringes of a cluster of well-wishers.

Kane held out his hand to Ben. “Damn good job. Exactly what we need to keep seeing from you.”

“That's what I plan to deliver,” he said. If they were anywhere but in the middle of a sea of industry people, he would have added, “For so long as I have a job.”

“Walk over this way with me,” Kane said.

Ben nodded.

“There's another glitch in the sponsor situation,” Kane said in a low voice once they were out of earshot from everyone else. “Hometeam Insurance has told Double S that they're willing to stay as a sponsor, but only if their logos are on another car.”

“They're trying to force me out? What the hell's the point of that?”

“I don't know. I've heard they have a new advertising agency and it could have something to do with that. Maybe they're not looking for the same image.”

Ben shook his head. “Yeah, because safe and professional is such a bad image for an insurance company,” he replied with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Look, you just keep driving like you did tonight, and I'm going to make some contacts inside Hometeam. I just wanted you to know the latest developments before you heard them from Gil.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, wondering how a night that started out so right could end up so wrong.

 

M
ONDAY MORNING
at 10:45, Susie stepped across the threshold of La Vie, Charlotte's hottest new upscale women's clothing boutique. Susie had loved the shop long before one arrived in North Carolina, having visited branches in the Caribbean and France when the family took its annual vacation at the end of the NASCAR
Sprint Cup season. The thought of having her designs actually sold in a place this posh floored her, but it could well happen. In fifteen minutes she had an appointment with the chain's owner, Martine Roulot.

Susie had spoken to Martine a number of times on the phone, and had a mental image of a Frenchwoman with the flair of Coco Chanel, the figure of a supermodel and the IQ of a genius. Clearly, the flair part was true. Like its sister stores, this one carried a mix of ready-to-wear from big designers and “one-offs” created by people like Susie. Vintage jewelry mixed with new, and European sensibilities with American. Billie Holiday's unmistakably poignant voice played softly in the background, transporting the shopper to another era. A retail experience could get no better than this. Even if Susie didn't work out an arrangement with Martine, her credit card would be getting quite a workout.

Enthralled, Susie wandered from rack to rack and then on to an antique secretary filled with vintage brooches. Susie's soft spot was vintage buttons bought to give special detail to her sweaters, but she could see adding brooches to her stockpile.

She'd just turned away from the secretary when she saw a young saleswoman with an elfin face and short-cropped hair fussing with a mannequin. She said hello, and the younger woman inclined her head politely. If this were Susie's store, she'd insist the staff give a verbal greeting, but perhaps the idea was to let the customer ease into the shopping experience. Then Susie checked her watch. She'd definitely eased in; her appointment time had arrived without her even noting the passage of time.

“Excuse me, I have an appointment with Martine
Roulot,” she said to the saleswoman who was now rearranging a scarf on the mannequin's neck. “Can you tell me where I might find her?”

“I am Martine,” the woman replied. Her French accent was lovely and exotic to Susie. “And you are Susie Edmonds.”

Susie smiled. No wonder Martine hadn't spoken; Susie would have recognized that distinctive voice anywhere.

“I am.”

“I hope you'll forgive me for my little game…not speaking when you came into the store, but I knew who you were.”

“How?” Susie asked, startled.

“The internet is a powerful and interesting tool, is it not? And when one is married to a race car driver, it seems that one's picture is everywhere,
non?
”

Susie winced a little. “Believe me, I wish it weren't.” Nine times out of ten, when she checked out those shots, Susie saw something a little Zombie-like in her eyes. She detested having her picture taken, but as Martine had said, it was to be expected.

The Frenchwoman gave a classically Gallic shrug. “Revel in it…and always wear one of your works. Free publicity is the very best kind.”

“Point taken,” Susie said.

Martine held out her hand. “And now, let's become official businesswomen.”

They shook hands, and Susie said, “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“How could I resist? You have piqued my curiosity since I saw some of your summer shells in a shop while I was scouting a location for La Vie. You are an artist.”

“Not really,” Susie replied. “I just knit a little.”

Martine made a flicking motion with her right hand.

“It's far more than that. I've been watching you, the way you touched the silks, the sigh of pleasure when you ran your hand against the cashmere shawl. And as for the way you rearranged my jewelry case, you have an eye for color and balance.”

“I rearranged your jewelry?” Susie hurried over to the antique secretary. She had, indeed.

“It was entirely unconscious of me,” she told Martine.

“Sometimes it just happens.” Sheila teased her when she did it at Maudie's, too.

“Lucky for us both I like the arrangement. Now let me get Colleen from the stock room, and you and I shall go back into the office and talk about what we can do for each other.”

Though she was far too short to be a runway model, Martine moved with all the smooth speed and grace of one. She was gone in the blink of an eye and back before Susie could fall in love with any more merchandise.

The boutique's back office was the same as many Susie had seen, small and filled with samples and swatches and bits of bric-a-brac waiting to be used in displays.

“Please have a seat,” Martine said, gesturing at an antique chair Susie wagered often did double duty as part of a display on the shop floor.

Susie sat and placed her purse on the floor next to her.

“As we have discussed on the phone, I would like to carry your merchandise,” Martine said. “But as we have also discussed, I have some concerns that you will not be able to fill my orders. I believe that my customers will
be clamoring for much from you, and my rule is never to disappoint a customer. That means I don't carry your work unless I'm sure you can deliver.”

“I know I've been small-scale, but I do have two knitters who do piecework for me when I fall behind,” Susie said. “If you can give me a good estimate of the number of pieces you think you want, I'll have a better sense if I can accommodate you.”

The Frenchwoman gave a number that made Susie feel like she'd just started down a roller coaster's biggest hill.

When her stomach returned to its proper place, she asked, “Winter pieces for next year?”

“Non,”
Martine replied. “I would want to start with your summer shells and shrugs. What we are talking about, Susie, is a large step, but it's also a natural progression. Do you not want to see more women wearing your designs? Do you not want to know just how far you can go in business?”

For years, she had been Ben's wife, Ben's support system, and for years that had been enough. But since she'd been home this season, she'd begun to wonder what she could build for herself. One of the things she and Ben held in common was that competitive spark. Maybe it was time to let hers grow to a full light. Ben would support her in this; it was only fair.

“Yes, I do want all of that,” she said to Martine. “I just have to figure out how to do it.”

“I would be happy to help you through the process, especially since it is to my customers' benefit that you do this,” the Frenchwoman added with a quick flash of a smile.

“I'd love your advice. Thank you,” Susie replied.

Martine's laugh was low and husky. “You will not thank me so much when you're in the middle of the craziness this business can bring.”

But crazy, Susie knew. She'd already been on one wild ride with Ben.

 

“
I'M GOING TO DRIVE
to Martinsville today,” Ben said to Susie on Wednesday morning as they had an early morning cup of coffee before the kids rose.

Ben was actually looking forward to the drive. The track for the weekend's race was less than two hours from home, and he could use the time alone. Driving, both competitively and for leisure, cleared his head of the extraneous noise in life. Even after the good showing at Charlotte, he was hearing a lot of it.

“Can't you hold off until tomorrow morning? Qualifying is on Friday, right?” his wife asked.

“It is, but Kane and I have a dinner planned for tonight with executives from Hometeam Insurance.”

Susie would take this dinner as “business as usual” when it remained anything but. Kane had gotten Ben the audience he needed, though. If the relationship was to be saved, it would have to be on a personal level instead of being driven by faceless consultants and outside contractors.

“Okay, I understand,” Susie said. “I'd like to schedule a meeting for Monday with Adriana Sanchez. And I want both of us to be there.”

Ben would have been less surprised if she'd said she wanted to schedule a joint session of Congress. She'd never asked to meet with their business manager. And right now wasn't particularly a time he wanted this to
pop up. He'd worked hard to keep Susie insulated from his money stress.

“No need. I just saw her a few weeks ago, and things are under control,” he replied, marveling how easily that lie came to him.

“I'd still like the appointment.”

“Why?”

She frowned at his question but answered nonetheless.

“It's time that I learn more about money and investments. It seems I'm going to need to borrow a little from our nest egg to expand my business.”

Ben's stomach tightened. He didn't want to see their available cash depleted just now.

“Expand, how?” he asked. “There's just one of you, and you're naturally limited by the hours in a day, right?”

Susie hesitated, then said, “Actually, for the past several months there's been more like three of me. I've been hiring a couple of knitters on a contract basis to help me fill my orders. Now I'm going to need about thirty more people since La Vie is going to be carrying my work. Martine thought I should just contract overseas, but there are plenty of women around here who can knit and are also looking for jobs. Eventually, I think it would make a great program to train new knitters from low-income areas in North Carolina and give them a chance to—”

“Whoa, there,” Ben said, putting the brakes on whatever she'd planned to say next. “La Vie…Martine…. I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Martine Roulot owns a chain of boutiques called La Vie. At first they were located exclusively in resort
towns, but now she's branching out. Remember the call I took while we were in California?”

“The one you held in the motor home's bathroom? Yes.”

Susie nodded. “That call was Martine. We've been talking in a general way about my designs since then, and we met at her new shop in Charlotte on Monday. I thought she'd be offering to put my sweaters in the Charlotte store, but she wants them everywhere.” A bemused expression on her face, Susie shook her head. “Twenty-five boutiques around the world. Can you believe it?”

Her excitement was so obvious. It would be cruel and wrong to talk her out of pursuing this even though it would take some heat off him financially and otherwise. But this was her dream, and he recalled how it felt to have one.

“It sounds great,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “How much do you think you're going to need in start-up money?”

“I don't know,” she replied. “Probably in the range of thirty thousand.”

“Wow. We definitely don't have that much in the dressing room coin jar.”

“No, we don't. And the thirty is on top of the ten thousand in profits I've saved over the past year. But this is one of the reasons I want to meet with Adriana. I need her input on how much capital to have on hand. And I need your approval, too. I won't take this step without it.”

“I am,” he said. “One hundred percent.”

Susie's face lit up. “Thank you! I knew I could count on you to be on board.”

On board?

Ben felt as though he was about to walk the plank.