CHAPTER ONE
Aiden sucked in a deep breath, plastered the required smile onto his face and strode into the press room. Flashes went off as he took his seat, all eyes in the packed room aimed his way, but his smile didn’t waver. He knew racing drivers were no longer simply men who drove fast around a track. They were a commodity, a brand with an image that had to be maintained, no matter how they were feeling inside.
Today the press assembled in the Delta HQ wanted to meet Aiden Foster, the new Delta driver. So that’s what he’d give them.
‘So, Aiden, the start of a new racing season. Is this the year you’re finally going to follow in your father’s footsteps and win a World Championship?’
‘I wondered when that question was going to rear its head.’ He glanced down at the sleek, expensive watch on his wrist. ‘Hey, and its only two minutes into the press conference. Must be a record.’
There was collective laughter. ‘Come on, you can’t blame us for making the comparisons,’ the journo protested. ‘It’s not often a son follows his father into the world of motor racing. Especially when that father was such a legend in the sport.’
‘My father was a brilliant driver,’ Aiden agreed amiably. ‘The day he died was a sad one for the sport. However, I’m not my father.’
‘Well, no, by my reckoning by the time he was your age he’d already won three of his five world championships.’
The jibe hit its target and Aiden imperceptibly flinched though his lips remained fixed in a polite smile. ‘Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of me being taller and better looking than him, but hey, you’ve got a point, too.’
Again there was laughter; all part of the game he played with the press. He was the laid-back playboy; the joker and charmer. It was what the public wanted him to be. What he wanted to be. And some days he was. It’s just some days he was also a screw up.
‘Does it feel strange, racing for the same team as your father?’
Strange? It’s bloody terrifying, he wanted to shout, but of course that didn’t fit his image. ‘Strange isn’t the right word. I feel honoured to be racing for the team that brought my father such immense success. If I can emulate just a fifth of that success, I’ll be very happy.’ One World Championship. It was all he asked.
‘Any regrets about your move from Arrows to Delta?’
Grateful for the shift in focus away from his father, he flashed the reporter a more genuine smile. ‘Delta are a fantastic team to work for. I loved my time at Arrows, but now I have the chance to race in the fastest car in motorsport, so no. No regrets.’ He rested back on his seat and gave the room a glimpse of the devilish grin he was famous for. ‘But be sure to ask me again at the end of the season.’
‘Is that before or after you lift the World Championship trophy?’
He turned to the female voice asking the question. Cute, blonde and with a glitter in her eye that suggested she might be hitting on him. ‘Better ask me before. Leave it till after and I’ll be too drunk on champagne to be coherent.’
‘Is that a promise then, Aiden?’ asked the balding man to her left. ‘You’re actually going to win this year?’
Aiden resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. As if there were any guarantees in this game. Even if he was in the fastest car, driving the fastest lap, he could still end up mangled against the wall. Like his father.
‘The only promise I can make is that I’ll be trying my hardest. I’ve got the backing of a great team and I’ll be driving the best car. With a few dollops of luck, this could be my year.’
He smiled again, hoping it came across as gracious and confident though inside his gut squirmed like a bag of snakes. This had to be his year. He’d been racing in this, the highest level of motorsport, for six years now and had yet to secure a title. Joining Delta wasn’t only the best chance he’d ever get to win the championship, it would likely be his last. At twenty-eight he wasn’t a veteran – but he wasn’t going to get any better. This was the year he could finally put the past behind him. Stop people talking about Aiden Foster, son of Sebastian Foster, former five times World Champion, and get them talking instead about Aiden Foster, current World Champion.
Shit, just the thought sent shivers up his spine.
The conference wrapped up and as Aiden stepped away from the microphones he found himself face to face with the cute blonde.
‘Hi. I just wanted to introduce myself.’ She stuck out a slim, well-manicured hand. ‘I’m Devon, from Just for Ladies.’
Laughing, he shook the offered hand. ‘Sorry, that’s not a publication I’ve heard of.’
She giggled coyly, capturing her bottom lip with her teeth; a flash of white against the vivid pink of her lipstick. ‘No, I don’t suppose you have. We’re a woman’s magazine, targeted towards the yummy mummy set. We don’t usually follow racing but I’ve been asked to write an article on glamour, sex and the world of motorsport and … well …’ she licked her dewy lips ‘… I thought maybe I could start with you?’
He smiled, wondering again whether she was coming on to him. For some reason – the money, the danger? – women were attracted to racing car drivers. It was a side benefit he’d enjoyed over the years, though lately he found himself becoming … he hardly dared admit it, but a bit bored by the whole thing. Mind you, Devon did have an ID badge around her neck, so perhaps there really was an article and it wasn’t her letting him know she wanted to have sex with him.
‘Where, exactly, were you thinking we might … err, start?’ he asked with a smile.
She lowered her lashes a fraction. ‘Maybe we could set up a time when you’re less busy? I’m happy to interview you at home, if you’d prefer. You know, somewhere more relaxing. More private.’
Aiden did know. And though sex delivered on a plate, no matter how attractively dished up, was starting to lose its appeal, she was cute. ‘Have you got a pen?’
Quick as a flash he was offered a sparkly pink biro.
Feeling faintly ridiculous, he scrawled his mobile number across her ID badge. ‘Give me a call and we’ll sort something out.’
With a broad smile and a coquettish little wave, she thanked him and left the room, swinging her hips in a way he couldn’t help but notice.
‘Don’t tell me. She works for some mindless women’s mag and she wants to interview you somewhere private.’
Aiden turned to find Melanie Hunt, one of the Delta press officers, giving him one of her looks. Since joining Delta a month ago he’d learnt that Melanie could convey a world of messages through just one glare from her pretty hazel eyes. Today’s message was did you really just give that woman your phone number?
He grinned, ignoring the mixture of disgust and incredulity that spread across her pleasantly attractive face. She was more girl-next-door than beach babe, though both had their merits. ‘I thought you were all about me raising my profile, making sure everyone knows which team I’m on now?’
‘As long as your profile is the only thing you’ll be raising when she lures you into her satin pink boudoir.’
A laugh erupted out of him. With her casual, no nonsense clothes, make-up free face and wickedly sharp sense of humour, Melanie was a long way removed from the highly polished, pushy, ultra confident press officers he was used to. Thank the Lord.
She gave him a brief smile, her dimpled cheeks magnifying the wholesome, fresh-faced, farmer’s daughter image. Then her attention dropped to her phone – the essential press officer’s equipment. She had that in common with the others, at least.
‘So tell me,’ she asked eventually, having finished whatever vital phone business she’d been conducting. ‘What insightful, thought-provoking article is your bunny boiler planning on writing?’
‘What makes you think she’s a bunny boiler?’
‘What makes you think she isn’t?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe I like my women a bit crazy.’
‘Maybe you just like women,’ Melanie murmured. ‘So, the title of the piece?’
Aiden tried to stifle a smile. ‘Sex in motorsport. Or something along those lines. I can’t quite remember the full title, though I do remember the sex and motorsport bit.’
Mel found her stomach flipping as she watched amusement flare in Aiden’s clear grey eyes. She’d like to bet the bunny boiler had every intention of finding out about the subject of sex in motorsport by doing her own personal, in-depth analysis.
‘It’s good to know women’s magazines aren’t dumbing down the sport, or their readers, in any way.’
He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Touchy.’
Realising he was right, she sighed. ‘A little, sorry. But sometimes … doesn’t it piss you off, the assumption that you’re stupid enough to fall for every pneumatic bosomed, bleached blonde with laser enhanced white teeth that pouts in your direction?’
‘Err …’
‘And that the sport seems to think the only place for women is smiling emptily behind the sponsor’s logo, dressed in a skimpy skirt and low plunging top?’
‘Personally I don’t have any objections to women wearing a skimpy skirt and low plunging top.’
His flashing grin told her he was teasing. At least she thought he was, though she found Aiden pretty hard to read.
‘Sorry, you’ve caught me on a bad day. I usually try to keep off the soapbox during daylight hours. So, this cutting edge interview that’s going to get to the very heart of motor racing. Do you want to do it?’
‘You mean do I want to have sex with a cute blonde in a pink boudoir? Or do I want to get embroiled in a fight to the death with a bunny boiler?’
A laugh bubbled out of her. Aiden in full flow, like he had been earlier in front of the press, was sharp and funny. ‘I mean, do you want to give up a few hours of your valuable time to help produce an article that bored housewives in the southern counties will spill their lattes over?’
He regarded her quizzically. ‘I’m getting the sense you don’t want me to do it.’
‘Put it this way, there are far better, more serious, professional platforms we can, and will, use to raise your profile in Delta. So the only reason for you to do this article …’
‘Is if I fancy the sometime bunny boiler.’
‘And even then, I’m pretty sure you can get what you want out of the meeting, without actually having to open your mouth.’
Once again he chuckled and, just as she had earlier, Mel found she daren’t look at him. If she did her tongue might hang out and she’d lose any professional respect she might have earned in the month since he’d joined Delta. But because she was still a woman first, and a press officer second, she allowed her eyes to briefly rest on the grooves at the side of his wide, laughing mouth. To flicker over the straight white teeth and up to his brilliant silver grey eyes. Then she forced her attention back to her phone.
‘Actually,’ he said as she pretended to check her messages, ‘I think you’ll find that in order to get the absolute most out of any such meeting, I really do need to open my mouth.’
Shocked, she snapped her head up and nearly drowned in his glittering, highly amused eyes. ‘Point taken.’ She coughed to ease her suddenly tight throat. ‘I’ve got a schedule of far more suitable opportunities I could do with running by you when you’ve got a free moment.’
‘Sure, I’m happy to meet up, though I’m not really fussed who I talk to.’
She noticed his attention drift away from her then and onto that of his teammate, Stefano, who’d just entered the room. Mumbling something about duty calling, Aiden gave her a quick smile of apology and strode over to join him.
Mel couldn’t help but watch his retreating back. A tall, lean figure dressed in jeans and a dark navy jacket, dark hair curling slightly over his jacket collar. He had an easy stride, one that exuded authority and self-confidence. His whole body language screamed yes, he was incredibly rich and good-looking. And yes, he was aware that people watched him wherever he went.
‘You wouldn’t be admiring our new driver’s backside, would you?’
She swung round to find Frank, race engineer for Aiden, grinning at her.
‘A woman’s got to get her kicks where she can find them.’
He shook his head in mock disapproval, though she couldn’t mistake the hint of seriousness in his next words. ‘I advise caution with that one.’
‘Do you really think you need to tell me that?’ Mel looked askance at the man who’d become a surrogate father to her since she’d joined the Delta team six years ago. ‘I mean, apart from the very obvious fact that he wouldn’t look twice at me, anyway.’
Frank furrowed his brow, deepening the lines that fifty-five years of living had already put there. ‘Why not? You’re very nicely put together.’
A sound very much like a snort fled her mouth and Mel glanced down at her sensible flat loafers, comfortable chino trousers and efficient cotton blouse complete with Delta team logo. ‘That’s exactly what someone like Aiden is looking for in a woman, isn’t it? Someone nicely put together? Not a blonde bombshell, or a sexy hot bird?’
A slight flush crept over Frank’s weathered face. ‘There are some men who don’t like the obvious. Who appreciate the more natural.’
Realising she’d embarrassed him, Mel threaded an arm through his and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘Then that’s the type of man I’ll need to find. And it clearly isn’t Aiden Foster.’
Together they walked past the slick reception area of the Delta HQ, buried deep inside the Surrey countryside, and out into the sunlight.
‘Out of interest, why the warning about Aiden? Are you two not getting on?’
Frank halted, his eyes squinting slightly. ‘I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that. Obviously it’s early days and we’re still tiptoeing round each other.’
She sensed the race engineer’s hesitation. ‘But?’
Chuckling, he ran a hand over his thinning grey hair. ‘Okay, yes, there is a but. He has all the right attributes for a brilliant driver; great reflexes, mentally quick, physically strong and in fantastic shape. Plus he has an understanding of the aerodynamics and engine capabilities that, frankly, sometimes puts mine to shame. But,’ he added, smiling at the emphasis, ‘he’s, I don’t know, I think tense is the word for it. Sure he can act cool and laid-back in front of the cameras, but when he’s in the garage or on the track …’
‘He turns into a wrench throwing monster?’
‘No, not that bad, though he doesn’t mind shouting to put his point across. A keen desire to win is a fundamental attribute for any driver, but it’s almost as though he wants it too much.’
‘Maybe he’s just finding his feet. He’ll calm down once he feels more settled.’
‘I’m not sure that’s the answer. I really don’t think being calm is what he needs. When he’s behind the wheel, I actually think he needs to let go more.’
‘I guess watching your father die after slamming into a wall makes it hard to do that.’
Frank turned to look at her, his sharp blue eyes missing nothing. ‘Something tells me you’re no longer thinking about Sebastian Foster’s crash any more.’
Mel smiled sadly. ‘You’re right. I’m thinking about Mum and Dad’s. At least I didn’t have to watch them die.’
Frank took her hand in his large, reassuring one. ‘Come on, sweetie. How about I give you a lift home? Or even better, why not come and have dinner with us? It would make Nancy’s day. Plus it might put me back in her good books. I’ve been late home the last few nights. If we’d had a dog, he’d be three pounds heavier now.’
Mel giggled, grateful for the turn of conversation. ‘So, let me get this right. I help smooth out the relationship between you and your wife and I get a delicious meal. How can I say no?’