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Dell Wayne? He'd burst into the Cup series four
years ago, touted as the up-and-coming driver by all the reporters.
And then his father died.
    Caro sipped the warm drink and tried not to
dwell on the negative, though it was hard to ignore the facts. Dell
had been suspended from NASCAR, and fired from Anderson Racing for
a reason, and it wasn't because of his innovative driving. But even
when Dell was living up to his nickname, Madman, there was
something about the way he drove that hinted at the potential he'd
once shown the world. Things rarely happened to Dell.
Everything, even the crashes, appeared calculated, planned,
instigated – by Dell himself.
    She sighed, finished her drink and tossed it
into the bin by the door on her way out. She had work to do.
Contracts to draft, a sponsor to win over to her new driver, and a
fire suit to order. Getting Dell into a fire suit was high
priority. Then she'd only have to look at his face and his hands.
Hands that didn't resemble the ones she remembered in the least.
She groaned. She wouldn't think about his hands, or his long
fingers, or how strong they had to be to control a racecar. Or what
they would feel like on her skin. Rough. Competent. Hot.
    Gloves. She needed to order gloves. And a
helmet. With a visor.

 
     
     
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    Whatever made her think a fire suit was a
good idea? Caro eyed the man standing in her office in the brand
new fire suit – complete with gloves. The red piping on black
around the neckline and waistband accented his slim physique, and
extended over his shoulders, down his arms and the length of his
legs, drawing attention to his height. He flexed his fingers in the
buttery leather gloves and her lady parts tingled. She ignored the
ill-timed feeling. After a week of seeing Dell almost every day,
she had lots of experience ignoring those feelings.
    “Too tight?” she asked.
    “No. It's perfect. You did good, Caro.”
    “Your measurements were on file. I just told
them what colors to use.”
    “Well, it's all good. I appreciate it. The
ride, I mean. The suit too.”
    “You're welcome.”
    “All's square with the sponsor?” he
asked.
    Caro tapped her finger on the contract in
front of her. “Yep. They came by and signed the new contract this
morning. They even increased their involvement to include free ice
cream if you win.”
    Dell's smile lit up the room, as well as a
few other things. “Free ice cream. That's quite a commitment.”
    “Laugh if you will, but they're stocking up
on ice cream.”
    His smile dimmed.” They have that much
confidence in my ability?”
    “Of course they do. Why wouldn't they?”
    “Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I've wrecked
more than I've won in the last few years?”
    “Or maybe they know what a good driver you
are?”
    “I'll try, Caro. That's all I can do.”
    “It's all I'm asking, Dell.”
    Caro admired his butt as he left her office.
The man had it going on back there too. She frowned at his
retreating backside. His body might be hot, but his personality ran
hot and cold, and Caro never knew what to expect. One minute he was
laughing about free ice cream, and the next, he was scowling and
making excuses. He'd been moody as a kid, but never like this.
    Caro tried to remember the adolescent Dell.
As kids, they'd both had their disagreements with their dads.
Caro's didn't want her in the garage, and Dell's didn't want him
racing. Through it all, Dell was a happy kid – except those times
he argued with his dad. Caudell Senior could be a hard man when he
wanted to be, but Caro remembered him, if not fondly, respectfully.
Like her dad, Caudell wanted what he believed was best for his only
child, and it never occurred to him, said child might want
something different. Both men were used to getting their way.
    But Caro and Dell defied the odds, and look
where they were. Well, look where Dell was. He was one of the best,
while Caro still had a lot to prove. So why was Dell so quick to
put