Read Online Sweet Carolina by Roz Lee - Free Book Online Page B

“Laps?”
    “Ten to go,” Russell said.
    Dell continued his assault on the lead car,
mentally noting the laps. “Tell me when we get to three,” he said
to whomever was listening.
    “Dell…” Dell ignored the warning tone and hit
the lead car hard. The driver almost lost control, but managed to
steer through it.
    “Four,” Russell said.
    One more. Dell concentrated on his next move.
He saw the checkered line painted on the pavement in the front
stretch as Russell confirmed three laps to go. Dell bided his time.
Split seconds. Through turn one. Turn two. Throttle up into the
backstretch. He dropped down to the inside – mere inches and
pressed the nose of his car against the bumper of the lead car, and
pushed.
    He saw the driver of the lead car try to
steer his car back into the groove of the track and fail. As soon
as the left side of his car cleared the right side of Dell's, Dell
throttled up and passed him for the lead.
    “Two,” Russell said. “Hot damn, Dell!”
    “Dell Wayne!” Caro yelled. “Are you
crazy?”
    Dell smiled. Damn straight he was. Crazy as a
loon. “See you in Victory Lane, sweetheart.”
    * * * *
    Caro pasted on a smile for the cameras and
said all the right things, but inwardly she was seething. Five
hundred laps of insane driving, and Dell acted like he'd won. Well,
he had a trophy, and the purse would keep them in business for a
while longer, but he'd lived up to his Madman nickname. It was
nothing more than luck that had him standing in Victory Lane,
swigging champagne and locking lips with the Miss Double-D Cup. And
his last stunt? Totally unacceptable. Thank goodness it had been
Stillwell he challenged. A lesser driver would have spun out and
taken out half the cars on the lead lap.
    By the time they made it back to the hauler,
Caro was ready to explode. “What the hell were you doing?” she
asked. “Is that what you call driving? How many did you shove out
of your way today? Six…? More?” She paced the small lounge because
she had too much pent-up anger to sit.
    “Are you complaining?” Dell asked from his
prone position on the sofa. “I won. We won,” he amended. “Isn't
that what you pay me for?”
    She stopped her pacing and stared at him.
God, he looked good, and she almost forgot why she was mad at him –
then he ran his hands through his champagne-soaked hair and it all
came back to her. “I'm paying you to drive, not to kill
yourself.”
    The words dropped between them like a stone.
Dell stilled. Like an animal sensing its prey, he swung his feet to
the floor and stood. He towered over her, and even though he had to
be exhausted, he looked ready to take on the world. Or one petite
female team owner.
    “You know what's killing me, Caro?” he asked
as he closed the distance between them. Caro held her ground. He
smelled of stale champagne and sweat, with a hint of burnt rubber
thrown in. It should have been nauseating, but to Caro, it was the
smell of victory, however won. She lifted her eyes to his as he
slid one foot between her splayed ones and pressed his body into
her personal space.
    “Lord knows dying on the track would be
easier than keeping my hands off you every day.” He trailed one
callused finger across her cheekbone, and down along her jaw to her
chin to tilt her head back, telegraphing his next move with his
firm touch. His gaze traveled from her lips to her eyes, giving her
ample opportunity to say no, or to back away, but she couldn't.
    His breath was hot against her face. His lips
a mere inch from hers. “I'm going to die right here, Caro, if I
don't kiss you.”
    Her heart leapt against her ribcage and her
last grain of sanity gasped for her to run, but died from lack of
oxygen as he pressed his lips to hers. His lips were warm and firm,
and his kiss was sweet, almost tentative at first. In all her wild
imaginings, she never believed Dell Wayne could be so gentle.
    She moaned.
    That did it. Dell's hold on decency slipped
from his hands and