Free In the Groove by Pamela Britton

thinking about his kiss. "Well, aside from a few scrapes and bruises, I appear to be fine."
    "Taking the medication?"
    She snorted. "No. I shudder to think what would happen if I did that. I might decide to head toward Hawaii, damn the Pacific Ocean."
    "That wouldn't be a problem as long as you took your scuba gear."
    "Actually, I bet your bus has pontoons somewhere."
    He chuckled and she waited for him to say something else, getting that uncomfortable feeling one got when someone whom you kissed calls you and you're not quite sure how to react, or what to say.
    "Well," she finally heard him drawl. "I was just making sure you were all right."
    And that was the thing about Lance Cooper. He really cared. There was no artifice. None of the aloof pretentiousness that she might have expected from a man who'd been mentioned on the Web nearly half a million times. There was, of course, a hint of flirtatious innuendo in his voice, but she suspected that had more to do with simply being Lance's way than any real interest in her. Earlier, she'd imagined the look in his eyes as his head had lowered toward hers. It'd been the medication, that's all.
    She just wished she knew why she felt so disappointed.
    "Well, thanks for checking in," she said. "I'll see you in Daytona."
    But would she? She had instructions to get the bus to Daytona by Wednesday. She'd have one night at the track and then she'd check into a hotel room. There'd be no need to go back to the track after that, or so she'd been told, because Lance only used his bus from Thursday to Sunday—the rest of the time he was at home or off doing media appearances. She'd only return when it was time to take Lance's motor coach to its next destination, Chicago.
    But he said, "Yeah. I'll see you there."
    And that was that. She said goodbye, coming back to earth and remembering she sat in a coffee shop where she'd been spying on Lance Cooper. And it seemed strange to be there, strange because when she'd answered the phone she'd forgotten her surroundings. She'd just about forgotten everything, including where she was. She even had to think hard to remember what city she was in.
    A new customer walked into the dimly lit coffeehouse, the man wearing a black T-shirt with bright markings on the front. A race fan T-shirt, she realized, the things suddenly sticking out like extra heads on a dog. This one was for a driver whose name she didn't recognize, but she would bet Lance knew him. Gosh. Lance was probably friends with the man pictured on the back of the shirt.
    How surreal.
    It was like working for a rock star, right on down to the bus.
    And so why in the heck are you secretly thrilled that he's called? a voice asked.
    Why in the heck did you have the urge to look around the coffee shop and tell people you were speaking to Lance Cooper. The Lance Cooper?
    The man was famous. Much more famous than she would have ever surmised. Ergo, she had no business having a crush on him. Celebrities did not date kindergarten teachers. Besides, she had no business dating anyone—celebrity or no.
    But that's exactly what she wanted, she admitted in dismay. She wanted to date him.
    You 're not seriously thinking you could rein in Lance Cooper?
    No, she quickly reassured herself. She wasn't that silly. Besides, she probably had it all wrong. Lance Cooper might be a famous race-car driver, but she doubted anyone would know who he was outside of that venue.
    That thought lasted right up until the moment she maneuvered the big bus out of the parking lot, lasted until then because as she was passing a gas station she caught sight of a vending machine—one with Lance Cooper's full-length picture on the front, his grinning face seeming to say, "That's what you think."
    Oh, jeez.
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    He flew to Daytona early.
    It was a stupid thing to do, Lance realized. Why hire someone to drive your motor coach if you were going to fly down early so that the motor coach hadn't even arrived yet when you got