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Vanessa shrugged. “Well,” she said nonchalantly, “it could have been worse. Just imagine if I had come as your pregnant wife!”
Mark woke early, no sign of morning light peeking through his bedroom windows. Opening his eyes, he struggled to focus then gave up, falling back against the mound of pillows as he closed his eyes tightly. His whole body felt as if he’d been run over by a Mack truck.
Taking a deep inhalation he blew stale breath past his full lips then rolled over onto his side. No one had answered the telephone number that Luke had given him for Michelle. Each time he’d dialed and the phone had rung, Mark imagined her purposely avoiding his calls, still believing he was engaged to be married to the likes of Vanessa. Even his little brother had not been able to get through to her to help pave the way to an explanation and an apology.
A wave of nausea rippled through Mark’s abdomen. He wanted to be sick but he fought the vile sensation. His night hadn’t gone at all the way he’d hoped. It had started on a grand high and then just like that the energy had deflated like a burst balloon gone awry.
His family had been less than sympathetic over his dilemma and his buddy Vanessa had been the only one to find any humor in the moment. Mark rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his abs, chest and face tight against the mattress.
Mark had no explanation for what he was feeling, but the past evening’s events were weighing heavy on his spirit. It wasn’t like this was the first time Vanessa had ever interceded on his behalf, saving him from what surely would have been a relationship disaster. And, if you had asked him before he’d met Michelle he would have told you that it wouldn’t have been the last time. But something about the beguiling woman had him totally unsettled, spiraling so far off his game that he couldn’t remember how to play.
It was way too early to call her, he thought as he lifted his body slightly to peer at the digital clock on the nightstand. Then again, he thought, what did he have to lose? Maybe he’d get lucky and catch her off guard. Maybe she’d have a change of heart and he’d be able to explain that it had all been one bad mix-up. Maybe Michelle would have found the funny that had kept Vanessa doubled over with laughter. As Mark reached for his cell phone and hit the redial button all he could think was just maybe.
Michelle wasn’t happy and her vile mood was far from pleasant. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, sleeping coming in sporadic doses. When she’d finally been able to fall into a deep slumber, the ringing telephone had wakened her, leaving her wide-eyed and evil.
Caller ID had burst many a telemarketer’s dreams but Michelle had been more than grateful for the little invention. Recognizing the familiar number had kept her from answering the early-morning call, insuring that her bad mood wasn’t made worse with her cussing that man out.
She’d been very tempted to pick up the call and cuss. Instead she’d disconnected the ringer on her telephone. Unable to fall back to sleep, she’d risen from her bed, had tossed on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and now she was standing in the center of the garage trying to decide which repair job she wanted to tackle first.
Michelle rested her hands against her lean hips. Thinking about Mark Stallion and why she was in the garage at five o’clock in the morning only served to make her angrier. But she was not going to be moved by the pretty, rich boy who thought the world revolved around him and him alone. Clearly the man had too much time on his hands if he was able to play the games he seemed to be playing with her. As far as Michelle was concerned, Mark Stallion could call all he wanted. She had no intentions of ever answering.
Chapter 6
“Do the words big and baby mean anything to you?” Vanessa asked, her hands hinged to the shelves of her full hips.
“What are you trying to say?” Mark answered, tinkering with the engine of his new race bike.
“I’m not trying to say anything. I said what I had to say. You’re acting like a big baby. What’s with you?”
The man rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond. Instead, he straddled his bike, turned the ignition and backed the bike out of the garage. Vanessa walked out behind him, leaning against the railing as he made his way onto the racetrack. Three laps around the paved surface and Mark was suddenly feeling more like himself. By lap twenty, he was a changed man. Vanessa noted the immediate difference in his attitude.
“Feeling better?” she asked as he swung off his bike, removing his helmet from his head.
Mark nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Much. Sorry about before but you know…” His voice trailed off as he cut his eye in her direction and back out to the track.
Vanessa nodded. “So am I. I didn’t mean to mess up what you had going on. I just figured…well…you know…” She paused as well, knowing that Mark would be able to finish her thought without her saying another word.
Mark extended a closed fist and Vanessa punched back. “It’s cool,” he said. “I’m over it.”
She smiled. “So—” She was interrupted by the loud roar of a Suzuki race bike careening around the track. Both of them turned to stare, captivated by the precision machinery that was taking the curves with ease. The driver was leaning so sharply that the bike practically lay on its side, both driver and machine appearing as though they might fall flat at any moment.
So enthralled were the two of them watching that neither noticed that they were not alone. A rotund man with a Santa beard and mustache had moved to their side and was watching just as intently, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his khaki slacks. His head was bobbing up and down against his shoulders in excitement and it was only when he let out a very loud whoop did they realize he was there.
Vanessa jumped, startled only momentarily. Mark turned about suddenly, and then greeted the man with cool acknowledgment. “Greg Rockman. Why am I not surprised to run into you?” Mark asked, his tone chilly.
The Santa impersonator grinned broadly. “It’s nice to see you as well, Stallion. How might you be this fine afternoon?”
Mark nodded. “I’m doing quite well, thank you for asking. I was just telling my friend here that I’m looking forward to wiping up the track with your boys this season. Things couldn’t be looking better if you were to ask me.”
Vanessa watched with amusement, leaning with her back against the fence that separated them from the racecourse. She looked back and forth from one man to the other, clearly entertained at the exchange. Few knew that Greg Rockman was not one of Mark’s favorite people, something about the man’s business practices not sitting well with her friend. When it was necessary, Mark was very good at masking his distaste for the man but Vanessa knew it wouldn’t be but so long before her friend would be ready to drop his cordial facade.
Rockman smiled a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’re going to give it your best shot,” the man answered, turning his attention back to the bike and the driver. “But I don’t think,” he continued, his tone smug, “that you’ll be wiping up much with the team I’ve put together. We’ve got a secret weapon this year that’s going to make all you boys wish you’d stayed home where you couldn’t get your feelings hurt.”
Vanessa wouldn’t have thought it possible but the man’s smile widened even further, his whole body quivering like a bowl of cherry Jell-O as he chuckled.
Mark gave him a wry smile back. “And what’s this secret weapon you’re so proud of?”
“Now, it wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, would it?”
Mark rolled his eyes, turning back to stare where the other man stared. The driver was slowing down, taking the bike around with a lazy ease. Mark wasn’t quite sure if there was something wrong with the vehicle or if the driver had just grown weary of the exhilaration. He was suddenly surprised when Rockman gestured for the driver to join them, the man waving excitedly for attention. “That’s one of yours?” Mark asked casually.
“That’s what’s going to whip your tail this season.”
Mark cut his eye at the man and back to the bike and driver that was headed in their direction.
Easing the bike forward, Michelle was only so surprised to see her new employer standing side by side with Mark Stallion. She’d known that once she accepted the position it would only have been matter of time before she and that man would run into each other. If Michelle were completely honest, Mark Stallion had motivated her to accept the position with his opposition. Michelle was looking forward to beating Stallion at one of his games. Once she’d said yes, running into him had been inevitable. But it had to be some kind of bad karma for it to have happened on her first day on the job.
Coming to a complete stop, she shut down the engine and lifted herself from the bike, setting it back against the kickstand. Reaching for the strap on her helmet, she was focused on the tall black man who was studying her curiously. He was even more beautiful than she’d remembered, she thought to herself. Her stomach was tumbling in circles, the toast and orange juice she’d consumed for breakfast threatening to return. It took everything in her to control the quiver of anxiety that was causing her hands and knees to shake.
Easing her helmet off her head, Michelle came through the gate to where they stood. She extended her hand to Greg Rockman, a warm smile filling her face. “Hey there, Uncle Greg. Glad you could make it.”
“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, Mitch. You looked great out there. How did the bike handle?”
“She’s sweet. We’re going to have to do some work on the engine but the light weight of the body makes it a very nice ride.”
“That’s what I wanted to hear,” the man said excitedly. “Now, you sure I can’t convince you to come ride for me instead? You sure know how to handle yourself out there!”
Michelle shook her head. “I don’t think so, sir. I much prefer the garage.”
Michelle looked from Rockman to Mark and then noticed Vanessa eyeing her with interest. She bristled, trying to not let her sudden discomfort show.
“Oh, I’m being rude,” Rockman said, moving to wrap an arm around Michelle’s shoulders. “Mitch, let me introduce you to the competition. This is Mark Stall—”
Michelle cut him off. “We’ve met,” she said curtly, the smile draining from her face.
Mark stared in awe, his mouth parted slightly as he struggled to focus. He’d not been able to mask his obvious surprise. When Michelle had taken off her helmet, pulling a hand through her hair, he’d been instantly captivated. He had barely been able to contain his excitement when he’d recognized her.
Wire mesh and steel posts had separated the asphalt from the weathered grass where he’d been standing with Rockman and Vanessa. Where Michelle had rested on the other side had felt almost miles away to Mark. Suddenly he’d wanted to jump the fenced barrier to sweep her into his arms and hold her. He shook his head slightly, waving the clouds from his thoughts. “Yes, we have. How are you, Mitch?”
Michelle’s smile turned down into a deep frown. She nodded her head, not saying anything to him at all. “And how are you doing, Mrs. Stallion?” she asked, turning her attention toward Vanessa instead, loudly emphasizing the Mrs.
Vanessa laughed out loud. “It’s Ms. Long and I’m just taking it all in,” she said, unable to contain her giggles.
Michelle raised a curious eyebrow at the comment. “I’m just sure you are,” she said, moving back to the motorcycle. “Well, I need to get this in the garage to see what damage has been done. If you all will excuse me.”
Rockman nodded. “I’m right behind you.” He shook Mark’s hand a second time, giving the man a smug wink. “We’ll see you in our rearview mirror, Stallion. Take it easy now.”
Mark glared at the man. “You wish, Rockman. You wish.” He turned his attention back to Michelle, who was now on the other side of the fence, easing her bike toward the garage bays. She wore leather. Leather jeans and a jacket that bore the Rockman Racing logo fit her petite figure nicely. Everything about her demeanor highlighted her extraordinary beauty. Her confidence and self-assurance was almost intimidating, and he found the wealth of her talent sexy as hell.
Mark winced as she pulled out of sight. It suddenly dawned on him that she was working for the competition. And worse, it appeared as if she might actually like the job. Mark couldn’t begin to imagine what Michelle could possibly see in Rockman or his team. Even if he could have wooed her away with a better offer, Mark sensed that his chances of success, business or personal, didn’t look favorable. That icy stare she’d given him hadn’t done much at all for his self-confidence.
Vanessa’s amusement had increased tenfold, and as she stood staring at Mark it was all she could do to contain her enthusiasm. The expression on the man’s face was priceless. He stood staring after Michelle like a lovesick puppy, his eyes wide and sad that the exquisite woman was gone from him. Vanessa couldn’t remember him ever reacting to any woman like that before. Maybe this Mitch woman had a few redeeming qualities that Vanessa didn’t know about.
She grinned. “So, you just gonna stand there or do you plan on catching up with the woman to ask her out?”
“What? Huh?” Mark asked, jumping. He’d gotten lost in thought, having forgotten that Vanessa was even there. Heat warmed his dark cheeks as he blushed profusely. “What are you talking about, Vanessa?” he answered finally.
Vanessa pointed in Michelle’s direction. “You need to tell her the truth and straighten your mess out. So, go do what you need to do.”
Mark cringed. For the life of him he couldn’t quite figure out why things seemed so complicated. It felt like that woman had gotten up under his skin and now he had a raging rash that he couldn’t quite scratch. He shook his head, trying to shake every thought of Michelle out of his head. He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Leave it alone,” he said, his tone short as a bold-faced lie passed over his lips. “She’s not interested and neither am I.”
Michelle rarely ran into other women in the ladies’ room of the racetrack when the tracks were closed to the public, so running into Vanessa Long took her completely by surprise. Each and every time she’d thought that perhaps she could have been wrong about Mark Stallion, his so-called fiancée had been by his side and Michelle had changed her mind. Obviously the two were closer than he’d wanted her to know or he wouldn’t have lied about them being together. If Michelle was certain of anything, she knew that she didn’t need that kind of drama in her life, so Michelle had made avoiding him and his woman a scientific art. And now, with her bladder about to burst, she truly had no interest in dealing with Vanessa soon-to-be-married Long.
As she’d made her way into the five-stall space, pulling at the zipper to her jeans, she had no interest in dealing with Vanessa, who stood at the oversize mirror freshening her makeup. The other woman broke out into a full grin at the sight of her.
“Hey, what’s up?” Vanessa called out, addressing her as if they were longtime friends.
Michelle’s eyebrows were raised curiously as she nodded her greeting, caught too off guard to speak.
Vanessa turned an about-face as Michelle rushed into the closest stall and closed the door. Behind her, Vanessa laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” Michelle asked, her voice carrying through the door.
“You. You had to know that we’d run into each other sooner or later.”
“Actually, I hadn’t given it much thought,” Michelle answered.
“I’m sure you wished it wouldn’t happen at all is what I’m sure you were thinking.”
Michelle flushed the commode, then made her way back out to the row of sinks that lined the wall. She tossed Vanessa a quick glance as she turned on the faucet, reached for the liquid soap and washed her hands. “You give yourself too much credit,” she said. “Truly, I haven’t given you much thought at all,” she said.
Vanessa laughed again. “But I’m sure my friend Mark’s been on your mind. I’m sure he’s been on your mind a lot.”
Vanessa calling the man’s name made Michelle bristle ever so slightly. Despite her best efforts, emotion showed on her face, her interest and frustration with the man gleaming out of her eyes.
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