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“I’m not with a paper. I’m Liz Mallory, the PR representative for Big Boy’s Pizza, and—”
That was all she had time to say before Rick came careening out from under the car, and this time, he did knock her down.
She fell right on top of him, her bottom landing on his stomach.
Reacting in time to grab her and keep her from cracking her head on the concrete, he cried, “The heck you say. Tell me this is a joke.”
“No, you’re the joke,” Liz cried, struggling to get up, but he held her tight, her breasts brushing his cheek as he tried to sit up with her still on top of him. “And you’re out of here, mister. With your attitude you’re not the kind of person my agency wants identified with the Rick Castles racing team. So you can go elsewhere and wheedle your freebie race passes.”
Rick and Liz locked furious eyes while the rest of the crew burst into raucous laughter.
Liz turned to glare. “I’d like to know what’s so funny. You don’t realize how this man behaved…how he talked to me. He even had the nerve to intimate that all the new sponsorship meant was free pizzas. You think I’m going to put up with having someone like that around this team?”
Mack, still laughing, walked over to take her arms and pull her to her feet. “Well, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”
The mechanic was greasy, and thanks to falling on him, she was, too. She yanked the rag from Mack’s hands and began swiping at the black streaks on her skirt, but it only made matters worse. Then she suddenly realized what Mack had just said. “What did you mean by that?” she demanded, eyes narrowed.
“I mean,” he said, grinning, “that you’re going to have to put up with him, because this is our driver.
“Liz Mallory,” he said with relish, obviously enjoying the moment, “meet Rick Castles.”
Chapter Two
“Mack, is this one of your stupid pranks?” Mack was the team joker and always clowning around.
Still laughing, Mack said, “I’m afraid not.”
The cords in Rick’s neck stood out, his lips a thin, angry line. “Tell me this is a gag,” he demanded of Liz. “You can’t be the PR rep for Big Boy’s.”
“I most certainly am.” She reached down to retrieve her bag. When she’d been knocked down, everything had spilled out. She had to search for her business cards, finally thrusting one at Rick. “Here. This explains me, but I’m still hoping you are the gag.”
He let that dig pass. “How come you didn’t say who you were to start with?”
“You gave the impression you weren’t a regular member of the crew, so I didn’t figure it was any of your business.”
“Well, regardless of whether you thought I was or not, it would have been polite to introduce yourself.”
“Ha! Look who’s talking about being polite. Is the snotty way you acted with me the way you treat all your fans?”
“Groupies, yeah,” he said, hands on his hips, all the while telling himself not to think about how cute she looked with her green eyes sparkling mad. “If I took the time to talk to every woman who wrangles a pit pass to flirt with a driver, I’d never get anything done.”
“Oh, so you assume that every woman who speaks to you has romantic notions? What an ego.”
“Hey—” he jabbed his finger in the air “—don’t talk to me about nerve. You were the one putting on an act. All you had to do was say who you were, and it would have been a whole different ball game, sweetie.”
“Yeah, right. And I’d never have known what an arrogant, conceited, self-assuming chauvinist you really are, Rick Castles. But you did keep me from wasting my time trying to make you presentable to the public…and wasting the sponsor’s money, as well.”
She jabbed right back, only her finger hit him right in the chest as she added, “And don’t call me sweetie.”
“Oh, yeah, great, fine. But it’s okay for you to call me names.” He pushed her hand away. “And don’t touch me.”
“Who wants to?” She knelt down to scoop up the rest of her things and stuff them back into her purse.
She did not see the wild, pleading look that Mack and the rest of the crew were giving Rick.
And Rick was still too mad to care.
Mack said, with a nervous laugh, “Hey, you two are acting like kids. How about both of you calming down and let’s talk about all this.”
“What’s to talk about?” Liz said as she reached under the race car to retrieve a lipstick that had rolled beneath. She snagged her stockings but didn’t care. She was already a mess.
“You two have got to get along,” Mack said.
Liz stood and slung her bag strap over her shoulder, turning away from Rick to respond to Mack. “I disagree, because when I tell the sponsor what a jerk your driver is, they’ll rethink things and probably withdraw.”
She was bluffing, because she doubted she had that kind of clout. Besides, if she told Jeff she detested Rick Castles, he might pull her off the account and give it to someone else. She did not want that…did not want to fail at anything in her career again…especially because of a man.
Mack said to Liz, “Hey, please don’t do that.” Then he grabbed Rick’s shoulder and shook him. “Listen, man, we need that sponsorship money, and you know it. So apologize and call a truce.”
Liz folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot as she waited for Rick’s response. So what if she was trying to pull off a bluff? It was important to establish some ground rules here, or he’d walk all over her. And she couldn’t have that. He had to know who was in charge when it came to public relations, and, by golly, she would not stand for him being unfriendly to fans, regardless of whether some of them were what he so scornfully referred to as groupies.
Rick started picking up tools that had scattered when he came out from under the car so fast. “I don’t see where I did anything so terrible.”
“You lied,” Liz coldly pointed out. “And it most certainly was my business to know who you were.”
“Yeah, if you’d told me who you were instead of playing coy.”
“That’s beside the point. You were rude, and you don’t treat fans like that.”
“Okay, hold it.” Mack got between them. “So you two have gotten off on the wrong foot. Suppose you start over. Liz, I’m afraid Rick acts off the track like he does when he’s on it—he never gives an inch.”
“That’s called being stubborn,” she said. “And maybe it works when he’s racing but not now.”
Rick ignored her as he went about his business.
Mack allowed, “Maybe so, but that’s how he is. And who’s to know how it would’ve been if you’d introduced yourself in the beginning? I don’t think he’d have jerked you around like he did.”
Liz stared at Rick’s back as he bent beneath the raised hood of the car. His T-shirt was stretched tight, and she could see the ripple of his muscles as he worked.
Her mind danced back to when she had fallen in his lap and he had instinctively put his arms around her to keep her from toppling backward. In that briefest of moments, she had felt a swirl of desire sweep over her and actually wondered what it would be like if he pulled her tighter and pressed his lips against hers, and—
She gave herself a mental shake. She had just met the man, and he had acted like a clod, and here she was thinking how great it would be to have him kiss her. She had to banish such ponderings from her mind or she’d wind up right back in the situation she swore never to find herself again—helpless and made to feel like a fool because her body, her heart, had betrayed her.
“Well, Mack,” she said stiffly, angry at herself and directing it at Rick, “I’m afraid he’s going to have to get down off his pedestal or it’s not going to work.”
Rick withdrew from beneath the hood to turn on her. “Who are you talking about being on a pedestal? You’re the one trying to take over the team all of a sudden.”
“That’s enough. This is getting ridiculous.” Mack had lost patience and was getting mad himself. He motioned Liz to stand back and told the rest of the team to get to work changing the tires. Then he drew Rick to one side.
Liz couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Mack was right about one thing—she and Rick had gotten off on the wrong foot, all right. And now she feared her job was going to be even harder than she’d thought.
Pete Barnett walked up just then to ask if she were ready to have the pictures taken. “We’ve got time before the drivers’ meeting. Where’s Castles, anyway? I’ve never met him.”
Liz cocked her head to where Mack and Rick were still in close conversation. “That’s him on the right.”
Pete frowned at the sight of Rick in his greasy clothes and dirty face. Loudly, he said, “Well, he’d better hurry up and change. You sure don’t want to shoot him looking like that.”
Rick heard and coldly demanded, “What is it now?”
Liz stonily answered, “It’s the photographer I’ve hired to take your publicity photos, but I’m not sure we’re going to need them now.”
At that, Mack hurried to her, waving his arms. “Oh, now wait, Liz. We can work this out.” He shot a pleading glance at Rick for confirmation. “Can’t we?”
Rick did not have to think about it, even though he had let Mack argue on and on as to why he should apologize and cooperate. He knew they needed the money if they were to make a serious run for the rookie title. The smaller sponsorships weren’t enough. Sure, they could sell ads on the lower quarter panels for twenty-five thousand dollars, and on the front fenders for thirty. But that was a drop in the bucket. Tires alone were over three hundred and fifty apiece. Depending on conditions, they might use six to twelve sets each race, which meant they’d have to spend nearly twenty thousand. And they just didn’t have it. They wouldn’t have even been able to come to Daytona if not for the new sponsorship, and, waiting for the first check had been tough, because they couldn’t buy tires needed just for practice.
He stared thoughtfully at the car. He and Mack were co-signers on a banknote to buy it for one hundred twenty-five thousand dollars.
He had even had to borrow against the farm his grandmother had left him in the Georgia mountains to pay some bills. So he really couldn’t afford to walk away from Big Boy’s Pizza just because he didn’t want to work with a woman around a racetrack.
“Come on, Rick,” Mack urged, sounding desperate…which he was.
Pete asked what the problem was, and that moved Rick to do something. He well knew how motor journalists gossiped among themselves. The last thing he needed was for rumors to start flying that there was sponsorship trouble before the first race, especially over a female. It would make good copy for the sidebars that writers needed when there wasn’t much to write about.
“Let’s talk.” He motioned to Liz. And to Pete, he said, “There’s no problem. We’re just discussing maybe making the logo a little bigger. Chill out, and I’ll be ready before you know it.”
Pete looked relieved, glad he’d be making some more money that day after all and set about getting his equipment ready. He told the crew where to roll the car for the best light and background.
Meanwhile, Rick walked to a pavilion nearby where there was a water fountain. Mack started to go with them, but Rick waved him away. No one else was around, and that’s the way he wanted it.
Rick took a paper cup from the holder and filled it with water. Then he politely handed it to Liz and began. “All right, let’s get something straight. We both know I need the sponsorship, but I’d rather work with a guy.”
She smiled. “Of course, you would. I know your type. You feel threatened by women.”
At that, he threw back his head and laughed, slapping his hand against his forehead. “Give me a break.”
“So tell me what you have against working with a woman?”
“Honey, I’ve raced against women, and—”
“Don’t call me honey.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I just don’t think women are cut out for this kind of sport.”
He had positioned himself on the other side of the water fountain. He didn’t like being close to her, didn’t like the woman scent of her.
Her hair smelled like sunshine, and touching her was like holding a moonbeam—so fragile, yet supple and longing to be caressed. When she had fallen on top of him, he had actually had to fight the impulse to kiss her…to taste her lips, her tongue, and then trail his mouth down her throat and on to her breasts and…
Liz was irate over how he was taking up so much time when they had little to spare. The photographer was waiting, and Rick still needed to change. “Will you get to your point?”
“I just said it was a job for a guy.”
“No,” she corrected. “You said women weren’t cut out for it. There’s a difference. But it happens to be my job until my boss assigns me to another account. So you are going to have to let me do my job. Otherwise, you leave me no choice but to go back and report you won’t cooperate. Then, it’s up to the sponsor what to do next, and you can believe they won’t be happy campers.
“PR, in case you don’t realize it,” she went on, trying not to think of warm mocha coffee as she fought to keep from drowning in his gaze, “stands for public relations, and what that means is having relations with the public. Good relations. And with your attitude, I’m not sure that’s possible. Now I think you should know there are several other rookie drivers that were being considered.” She didn’t know if that was true. She was merely trying to scare him into shaping up to make her job easier. She had no intention of quitting or reporting problems.
“In case you don’t realize it,” he said with a mocking twinkle, “the team has a contract with Big Boy’s. We haven’t violated any of the terms of that contract at this point. Just because you don’t like me—”
“No. You don’t like me. And Mack’s right. We did get off on the wrong foot, and it wasn’t my fault, and I’m not sure we can ever get along.”
“So what difference does it make if we don’t?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just this.” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve got your job. I’ve got mine. Stay out of my way, and we’ll get along.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. I’ll cooperate. I’ll go right now and take a shower and put on my new blue uniform with the gold stripes and the Big Boy’s logo. I’ll shave and comb my hair and give you a big smile for your photos. But I don’t want you hovering around while I do it.”
“Well, you’re just going to have to get used to my hovering—as you call it—because I plan to be around most of the time. You see, part of my job is to make all travel arrangements for the team. And I go with the team and attend all the races.
“In addition,” she went on, not failing to notice how his smile had abruptly disappeared, along with his cocky air, “I arrange your press parties and interviews. I do anything and everything I can to get you public exposure. I expect you to be on time and be cordial. And your first one is tonight.”
He quit leaning and stood to tower over her, anger rushing back. “No one told me anything about having to make an appearance tonight. This is short notice.”
“It’s not an appearance. I’m taking you and the crew out to dinner.”
“Mack and I always take the guys out the night before qualifying.”
“Well, surely you don’t mind me joining you and picking up the check. I’d like to get to know everybody. Besides, we’ll be doing a lot of things together from now on, so get used to it. I’m part of the team now.” She held out her hand. “What do you say we shake on it and try to start over?”
Rick knew he really had no choice.
Beyond her, he saw Mack motioning for him to take her hand.
The photographer was also watching and, worse, raised his camera and took a picture. No doubt he’d like his own sidebar to go with it to say trouble was brewing on the Castles team before the first race of the season.
Rick shook her hand. “Okay. We start over. But I still don’t want you hanging around any more than necessary.”
“Fine,” she said, biting back a sigh of relief. She did not want him to know she had been worried he wouldn’t cave. Actually, he hadn’t. Rick, she could tell, was a very dogged kind of guy. But he was willing to try, and, for the time being, that’s all she could hope for.
She urged him to please hurry and change for the pictures, then turned and walked back to the garage area.
Rick watched her go, her high, rounded hips swaying as she walked. He cursed himself as another heated wave rolled over him.
He had not been bragging when he’d talked about the groupies and how they came on to him. It was a known fact that some women were attracted to professional athletes, and race car drivers were included in that group. And, being single, he’d had more than his share chasing after him.
But, focused as he was on his career, he ignored all the women he came into contact with, from groupies to fans to beauty queens.
