but trouble and got in the way. “Look, I don’t know when Rick will be back, so you might as well go on—”
“But where is he?” She had seen the schedule in the office, knew that this was the last practice session before tomorrow’s race. “How come he’s not here to try the car out?”
“He practiced this morning. He’s at the beach this afternoon. Sunbathing. Now you really should get out of here. The garage area is a dangerous place.”
“I’ve heard that before.” She was almost petulant, fighting to hold her temper all the while. Obviously Rick Castles was not taking himself, or his career, seriously. Otherwise, he would be at the track and not the beach. And even if he weren’t planning on practicing anymore he should be around to greet fans.
There was also another problem with his absence. She had the photographer lined up to take his publicity photos.
She suddenly remembered the blackboard she had seen on the wall of the booth where she’d gotten her garage pass. “There’s a drivers’ meeting at five o’clock. Won’t he have to go to that?”
“Yeah, probably.” Rick wondered if he was going to be able to get rid of her, after all.
“Then I’ll wait.” Before he could protest, she pointed to the smooth tires on the car and, figuring she might as well spend her time learning something, innocently asked, “How come there’s no tread?”
“They’re old tires. All worn-out. Can’t afford new ones.” He felt no guilt at the lie. He had no intention of being her racing tutor, for Pete’s sake. Let her go bother somebody else.
He lowered himself to the board again. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Oh, don’t mind me.” Her eyes went to his thighs, and a tremor ripped through her tummy. His jeans fit like they were molded to him, and she couldn’t help noticing the manly bulge, and…
She told herself to get a grip. Even if she was interested in men—which she wasn’t—she would never get involved with this one, because he obviously had an attitude.
“Keep hanging around, and you’re liable to get embarrassed,” he warned, rolling himself out of sight. “Sometimes guys cuss around the garage.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll ignore it.”
“But you have no business here,” he said again, this time with gritted teeth. “And Rick Castles has got a girlfriend,” he said, adding another lie. “So you’re wasting your time.”
“Oh, I see,” she said, her teeth also grinding. “Just because I want to meet the man, talk to him, I want to go to bed with him.”
He rolled back out, barely missing her as she quickly jumped out of his way. “Now did I say anything about thinking you want to go to bed with him? Jeez, what’s wrong with you? I just wanted to let you know if you had any notions about flirting with him, he’s not interested.”
“And I’m not interested in him that way.” She was so tempted then and there to introduce herself and then say, By the way, you’re fired. The team no longer needs to swap work for race passes. They can afford to hire good help. Instead, she reminded herself he wasn’t worth getting all steamed up over.
She had not moved far enough away, and, once more, he could see up her skirt. Quite an eyeful, too, and he forced himself to roll back under, lest she see his heat show.
Just who was she, and what did she want with him? He was tempted to end the charade but was too mad—with her, but, most of all, with himself. After all, he had learned his lesson about women in racing. They either couldn’t stand the stress and got hysterical every time he spun out, afterward tearfully begging him to give it up, or they found somebody else while he was traveling all over the country.
He thought of Maggie and twisted the wrench too hard. It slipped and flew back to pinch his finger, and he swore.
Liz heard and teased, “Hey, you were right. I do hear somebody cursing.”
He ignored her and continued to allow memories of Maggie to wash over him, to bathe him in rationale as to why he was not about to let the cute redhead get to him. Maggie had sworn she loved him, sworn she wanted to share his racing life with him. He’d loved her, too, and so they had married.
Then a year later she left him for a guy with a steady job who came home for dinner every night.
After that, Rick promised himself that never again, while he was involved in racing, would he have a serious relationship with a woman. Those he went with just for sex knew that, but lately those times were getting further and further apart. Casual lovemaking had begun to leave him feeling empty and cheated. So instead he worked all the harder, trying to make his dream of becoming a competitive driver on the NASCAR circuit a reality.
Liz leaned in the car window on the driver’s side to examine the seat. “How come there’s a hole in the bottom?”
Rick did feel a teeny bit guilty when he brazenly asked, “Well, where do you think a driver goes to the bathroom when he’s on the track four, maybe five, hours at a time?”
Once again Liz felt her cheeks flame. “I…I hadn’t thought about that,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, they say NASA is interested in using the same type of toilet for the astronauts.”
“Well, that’s great.” She saw there was no ignition for a key to turn. “What starts the car?”
“See that button?”
“Yes.”
“Well, when the signal is given for the race to start, the driver pushes the button. That signals the control room, and another button is pushed there that starts the engine.”
That sounded strange, even to a novice like Liz. “Why go to all that trouble? Why not just turn a key like in regular cars?”
“Well, the officials want to make sure all cars start at exactly the same time so everybody gets a fair chance.”
Liz wondered if he was jerking her around. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. That’s what I’m under here doing now—making sure the wires to the button are hooked up like they’re supposed to be.”
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had time to eat lunch. “Where do the rookie drivers eat since they aren’t given garage stalls near the concessions stands?”
Rick blinked, sure he hadn’t heard her right. “Excuse me?”
“When I was asking where Rick’s garage area was, someone said he wouldn’t be near the hot dogs, because he’s a rookie. So I was wondering where there is to eat around here? I’m awfully hungry.”
He choked back a laugh. “Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to walk back up front, because they told you right. Rookies don’t get space near the hot dogs. That has to be earned.”
Though he was silently laughing at how gullible she was, he began to feel mean. Besides, he couldn’t help thinking about those long, shapely legs and where they had
