Read Online Thunderstruck by Roxanne St. Claire - Free Book Online

I take a picture?”
    The PR team would kill her. They had some kind of rollout planned to introduce the new paint job in Daytona, but she didn’t want to irritate DiLorenzi. “Maybe after we talk.” The picture could be a bargaining chip she needed later—if the interview went south.
    He scratched his head and frowned at the logo. “There sure isn’t another paint job like it in NASCAR NEXTEL Cup racing.”
    “We’re very proud of the sponsorship and think the Kincaid car will spend plenty of time in the winner’s circle.” There. The PR people would love that. If he would only write it down.
    “Got your hands full with Slater, don’t you?” he said, surprising her with the change of subject as he circled the car.
    Clayton Slater’s reputation as a bad boy was only one of the reasons she almost didn’t hire him. But last Christmas he convinced her he had the goods in the most untraditional way. She smiled thinking of how he’d pretended to be happily married just to impress David Kincaid. The truth came out, but not before Shelby had recognized a kindred spirit willing to take risks to win.
    But she wasn’t going into all that with this nosy reporter. “He’s ready to race at Cup level, I have no doubt. His record in the NASCAR Busch Series was impressive and we’re confident he has an excellent shot at a top-ten finish in his rookie year.”
    Rocco wrote something in his little notebook, but Shelby couldn’t make out the scratching.
    “Oh, he’s a helluva racer, I’ll give you that,” he said, dividing his attention between the car and the notebook. “But his personal life’s a mess.”
    “Not anymore.” She could have kicked herself the minute she said it because the reporter looked at her with interest. Always looking for dirt. “I’ll let him tell you about it,” she added.
    “So what are you doing differently this year, Shelby, to improve that lousy finish you had last year?”
    What did they call that question in media training? A trick, no-win trap. Like how long ago did you stop beating your wife?
    She smiled. “Why don’t you come into my office, Rocco, so I can tell you all about it?”
    He nodded, and she took him the back way to keep him out of the shop. And away from Mick, a face he’d no doubt recognize instantly.
    In the safety of her office, she buzzed her assistant, who brought them coffee, and settled into her chair with a quick, secret squeeze of the torn leather seat.
    C’mon, Daddy. Help me out here.
    Rocco flipped through the last pages of his notes and formulated his next question.
    “So where’s Ernie?” he asked far too casually.
    She had no idea. “He’s not in today.”
    Rocco gave her a surprised look. “A week before you leave for Daytona? The team owner isn’t here?”
    “Co-owner,” she corrected. “And we both have many, many responsibilities away from the shop.” But where was Ernie? He was never around anymore.
    “Guess he’s getting kind of old for a business that keeps you on the road thirty-six weeks a year.”
    “He doesn’t need to make every race,” she answered. “I’m there. And he’s always watching and consulting by phone. It’s not like he’s not involved with the team.”
    She cursed the defensiveness in her voice. There was no story here.
    “Ever think about selling?” he asked suddenly.
    Or maybe there was. “No.”
    “Does Ernie?”
    “I can’t speak for Ernie’s every thought, Rocco. I’ll be happy to arrange an interview.” Not.
    He held up one hand. “No need to get testy, Shelby.”
    Screw him. “Do you want to talk about our cars, drivers and strategy for winning or are you looking to do some sort of behind-the-scenes look at the inner workings of one of the last family-owned teams in NASCAR? If it’s the latter, I’ll be glad to have my PR team arrange for you to spend a few days with us during the off-season. But this close to Daytona, I’m afraid I’m not prepared to invest that much time.”
    He