Free In the Groove by Pamela Britton Page B

warning chime beep-beep-beeping. He had a perfect view of her, white teeth raking her bottom lip, eyes narrowed as she flicked her gaze between the two side mirrors, red ponytail swishing like an angry horse.
    Lance finally looked back at Todd. "He took off on us to drive for the Crüe."
    "Frank? The man who's been driving your motor coach for the last four years? Frank who was in his forties?"
    "He grew up listening to them, apparently, and when he heard about their need for a driver, he bailed."
    "Unbelievable," Todd said. "You've been thrown over for aging rock stars."
    Lance chuckled. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it, but it left me in a bind. Fortunately, Sal found Sarah."
    "Sarah looks cute," Todd said, squinting his eyes again, unibrow back in place.
    "Sarah's off-limits," Lance said.
    Todd's brows took off, gaze flicking back to him. "Like that, is it?"
    "No," Lance denied. "She's just off-limits. I don't want to lose another driver."
    The beeping stopped. Lance looked away from Todd, which was just as well because he could tell that his sometimes fishing partner, most-of-the-time best friend (when they weren't out on the track), didn't believe him.
    "Yeah, right," Todd said as Lance stepped down from his bus.
    Yeah, right, his own conscience echoed. Because there was one thing Lance couldn't deny: as he approached his motor coach he felt just like he did before a race.
    And that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

    Sarah wanted to rest her head on the steering wheel. She'd made it.
    She'd driven Lance Cooper's rolling Taj Mahal all the way to Daytona without once sideswiping a car, cutting a corner too close, or driving off the road.
    "Thank you, Lord," she silently whispered. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." Now all she had to do was level the bus out, set up the generator, pop out the three sliders and she'd be all set and frankly, she was looking forward to relaxing in a hotel room. Lance and company weren't due to arrive until tomorrow, which meant she wasn't due to check into her hotel until tomorrow, which meant she could spend one more night in The Palace. More importantly, it meant that she wouldn't be bumping into Lance Cooper anytime soon. As silly as it sounded, she was really worried she might run into him—
    "Hey, Sarah."
    The door, the hiss of the hydraulic lock, and her scream all erupted at the same time.
    "Did I scare you?"
    She spun around, wondering why the heck people always asked that when it was plain as the noses on their faces that they had, indeed, frightened someone? "No," she said sarcastically. "I always yelp when sitting in drivers' seats."
    "Oh," he said. "And here I thought you just sang 'Wheels on the Bus.' "
    She narrowed her eyes. "What the blazes are you doing here?" Her heart was pounding against her chest so hard, it sounded like bongos in her ears.
    "I came early."
    "But," she swallowed, then swallowed again because she was not, absolutely not ready to face Lance Cooper.
    "But what?" he prompted, that boyish smile of his back in place.
    "But I'm supposed to sleep here tonight."
    "You can sleep with me."
    "I can't do that."
    "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Lance quickly corrected, making his way up the narrow steps so that he stood over her. "I meant you could sleep on the couch like you've done the last couple of days..."
    On the couch? While he slept nearby?
    No, Sarah. No, no, no. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cooper, but I wouldn't feel comfortable sleeping in the same bus as you."
    "Mr. Cooper is it now?" he asked.
    Race-car driver, she reminded herself. Hugely famous. Fantastically gorgeous. And, even more importantly: man not to be trusted.
    "I really think it best if we keep things on a more professional level."
    She waited for him to disagree, waited for him to smile at her and tell her that was the last thing he wanted to do was keep it professional. But instead he looked—well, he looked almost relieved. "Yeah, you're probably right," he said, running a hand