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

scratched something on the paper.
    “That’s not for attribution.”
    He looked at her over the glasses. “I don’t believe in ‘off the record’ and you know it.”
    She swallowed a retort and let him continue to write, seconds crawling by as he looked at his notes and prepared his next question.
    “All righty then,” he said, leaning back. “Are you and Ernie fifty-fifty owners or does one of you own a larger percentage?”
    Shelby swore silently. What the hell did this have to do with how they were preparing for Daytona? This kind of coverage would demoralize the team and wouldn’t make the sponsors feel too great either. How could she get him off this track?
    “I bet I could get Clay Slater in here tomorrow for an interview,” she said. “He hasn’t done too many since he signed on to drive the Kincaid car. I’m sure we could get you something exclusive.”
    He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m hearing rumors, Shelby.”
    Outside of her shop? “What kind of rumors?”
    “That your grandfather is looking to back out of racing.”
    “So what if he is?” she shot back. “I could buy his half of the business.”
    “Oh, so you are fifty-fifty partners.”
    Another trick she’d played right into. “No comment.”
    He gave her a get-real look, but then his attention was suddenly diverted by a noise in the hallway. The familiar thwack-bump-thwack could only mean one thing.
    Rocco DiLorenzi’s smile confirmed it. He looked at Shelby, then the hall, then back at Shelby. “Is that who I think it is?”
    Shelby rolled forward to look and her chair whined loudly. “I don’t know. Who do you think it is?”
    His dark eyes bulged. “Mick Churchill. I heard he was here.”
    Just her luck he’d know soccer as well as racing. There was a double thwack-bump.
    “That’s me.” Uninvited, Mick suddenly filled her undersize office. His hair fell over one eye, his T-shirt du jour just as formfitting as yesterday’s. And, if it was humanly possible, he looked better in khakis than in jeans.
    He held out his hand as Rocco stood, staring.
    “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Churchill. What are you doing in Greensboro, North Carolina?”
    He buried Shelby in the sexiest smile she’d ever seen that wasn’t on a toothpaste commercial. “Just visiting some friends.”
    Rocco looked carefully from one to the other. “Really? I didn’t know you two knew each other.”
    “The world of professional sports is very small,” Mick assured him. “And I love nothing better than stopping by my friend’s race shop to see the incredible changes. This place just gets better every year.”
    Another minute and she have to lift her feet to avoid the BS piling up on the floor. But Rocco was buying it. And most definitely on another track. Only this one might be more dangerous.
    “How long have you followed racing, Mr. Churchill?” Rocco asked.
    Mick sat down in the other guest chair as if he’d been invited. “Long enough to know that this team is about to blow the socks off the competition.”
    “How’s that?” Rocco’s pen was poised, his eyes drawn to his new subject. “I mean, a team this small isn’t even guaranteed a spot, let alone two, in a race like Daytona.”
    Shelby leaned back and the chair grunted softly. Oh, I know, Daddy . He couldn’t even possibly understand the arcane rules that dictated qualifying races at Daytona or the fact that owner points helped set the race order. But she’d let Mick take a pass at Rocco. Who would no doubt roll over him like a fresh set of Goodyears.
    “All you have to do is spend a day with the guys out there and you’ll know.” Mick pointed toward the shop and Rocco scratched in his book. “They’re warriors. They want to be consistent, they want to be aggressive and they want to be in the front. This year, with two cars on the track, Thunder Racing is the team to watch.”
    He hadn’t really said anything, but Rocco was madly scribbling every word.
    “What’s the