Free Thunderstruck by Roxanne St. Claire Page B

whims.”
    “Why not? What would be wrong with getting to the top of your sport?”
    “I can see that argument and I guess it’s stupid to try and fight it, but it has to do with being a racer. I’m a racer.”
    He drew back an inch. “You drive, too?”
    “Nope. But if you’re around us long enough, you’ll find out there’s a difference between a driver and a racer. In fact, there are all kinds of people from mechanics to the media hanging around the track, but only a handful get it. Only a few are racers. The rest are wannabes and pretenders, hangers-on and posers.”
    “How can you tell the difference?”
    “To a racer, this is a way of life. The cracks in the asphalt, the rhythm of the engine, the smell of the garage—it’s so deep in your blood you don’t know any other way to live.”
    “Why couldn’t you still be a racer and have a big, corporate megateam, as you call it?”
    “I guess you could. It just seems like every day, every season, there are less racers and more…other people.”
    “Like me.”
    “Like you.”
    He swallowed, debating how much to tell her. Enough so that she knew his motivation wasn’t entirely selfish but not enough so that she could use the whole situation against him.
    “You know, Shelby, I’m British, and by nature we’re not big gut-spillers.”
    She frowned, leaning forward in interest. “And? You want to spill yours?”
    “I want you to understand that I wouldn’t launch this undertaking if I didn’t have very compelling reasons.”
    She just looked at him. “Other than trying your hand in a new sport and getting your picture on the cover of a racing magazine?”
    “This is not about my ego.”
    Her look was rich with doubt.
    “Really. This is about…” Saving the one thing of worth his father ever accomplished. “Protecting my reputation and my word.”
    “Your word? Who did you give your word to?”
    “Someone…” Someone with power, pull and an arsenal of weapons they weren’t afraid to use. “Someone I respect.”
    “A family member?”
    “In a sense, yes.” After all, he was doing this to protect his brother and save something important to his mother. This was inextricably tied with family. “And you, of all people, understand the importance of family.”
    She nodded slowly. “Of course I do.”
    When the time was right, he would tell her what had happened. Until then, the truth would only scare her and he’d lose the little progress he’d made so far.
    “All right then,” he said as though the personal-revelation course was good and over. “Tell me about racing. What’s the best day you ever had on the track?”
    Her eyes sparkled just enough to let him know his question hit the net.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    S OMEWHERE BETWEEN THE filet mignon and the raspberry-chocolate angel torte, Shelby did the stupidest thing she could remember since she’d pushed for an ill-timed pit stop that cost her team a top-ten finish at Charlotte.
    She relaxed.
    Maybe it was the wine, but she’d barely finished a glass. Maybe it was the atmosphere, a scene so romantic it all but offered a bed. Maybe it was the man.
    Oh, yeah. Definitely the man.
    How did he do it? How did he ease her away from her cautious, protective, defensive mind-set and get her to talk?
    He took a single raspberry, dipped it in chocolate and slid it between his lips, a move as sensual as anything she’d ever seen. And then he capped that off with a simple question that just about folded her in half.
    “What makes the shock absorber so important?”
    Holy hell, who could stay sane in the face of that?
    She shifted on her chair and tried to concentrate on the answer, not the body-melting heat emanating from the other side of the table.
    “The shock controls the car by controlling how fast the wheels move.” He swallowed, and Shelby’s throat went dry watching his move. She wanted to…touch it.
    “Can you explain that?”
    No. There was no explanation. She just wanted to. “In