Free Full Throttle (Fast Track) by Erin McCarthy

papers. Then we’ll have a party to celebrate on Valentine’s Day,” he told her. “It will make it seem like a romantic elopement, totally legit. And you can wear sexy red lingerie on our wedding night. I prefer garters and corsets.”
    He never ceased to amaze her with his arrogance. Or the fact that he was right about the dates. Both made total sense. But if she agreed, she was feeding his ego. “Oh, really? I agree with the elopement nonsense. But you can forget the corset. I’m not trussing myself up like a Victoria’s Secret model for you, because I won’t be having sex with you.”
    Rhett reached out and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. Shawn wanted to jerk away, but she didn’t want to look petulant. Besides, it was causing her to shiver in places she hadn’t even known she could shiver.
    “We already placed that bet—you don’t need to reiterate it.” He shrugged. “I’ll buy you the lingerie and we’ll see who wins.”
    Shawn calculated four days until the wedding and seven after it to be the victor. Holy hell. It was going to be the longest eleven days of her life.
    She was screwed. Quite literally.

CHAPTER
FIVE
    “ARE you sure you want to do this?” Shawn’s lawyer asked him point blank in his stuffy office loaded down with mahogany furniture. Rhett didn’t like rooms like this—it was dark and oppressive and formal. It made him long for the acreage of his parents’ property, or the freedom of being behind the wheel on the track.
    Clinton seemed like a nice enough sort of guy, and he was clearly concerned about Shawn’s well-being. It was obvious he wasn’t buying their sudden desire for marriage, when four days earlier Shawn had told him she wasn’t dating anyone.
    “I’m sure,” Rhett told him confidently, just wanting to sign the paperwork and get the hell out of there.
    He’d thought of virtually nothing else for the last seventy-two hours, and he hadn’t changed his mind. He needed the money, otherwise he was going to have to give up driving a car after this season. He knew that. He also knew that he and Shawn collectively could generate attention and media and create a buzz for the track this year, guaranteeing greater success for her and him both. At the end of the year they would both walk away with their dreams secured. It was win-win. Plus, he would have potentially months to explore a sexual relationship with Shawn. After that kiss the other night, there was no way he was going to deny himself that pleasure.
    Clinton sighed. “Alright. I guess I can’t gainsay Shawn at this point. She’s technically doing exactly what her grandfather wanted her to do. I swear if he wasn’t dead, I’d kill him myself for doing this to her.”
    It was nice to see that Shawn inspired such protectiveness. Rhett understood the feeling, and he’d spent very little time with her so far. They had only spoken briefly since her unexpected proposal the other night, and it had only been about managerial details, like when they would tell their families and when he would move in to her apartment. And where she actually lived so he knew where to move to.
    “I think Shawn is going to be just fine. You don’t need to worry about a woman as savvy and strong as she is,” he told Clinton. He meant it. Any woman who was willing to go through with a fake marriage to keep her business was tenacious as hell.
    “Just don’t run around on her and embarrass her,” Clinton said, giving Rhett the stink eye.
    “I have no intention of running around on her.” He didn’t. If he was working up an appetite at home, he fully intended to eat there as well.
    “Guess there’s nothing to do then but sign on the dotted line.” Clinton pointed to the bottom line of the contract Rhett had already skimmed and handed him a pen.
    Rhett signed his name with a flourish. Rhett B. Ford. Done.
    He shook Clinton’s hand and left the office, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself.
    Then he called his brother Nolan.