CHAPTER ELEVEN

STEELE

 

“No!” I hear that stern, I’m in charge feminine voice yell just as my feet land squarely back on the ground. That’s what three years of gymnastics gets you; a perfect backflip.

“Shit!” The car zips by. The quick breeze from the speed ruffles my hair. I turn to Ben. “I was too fucking early again, wasn’t I?”

The chain-link fence gate swings open, and dressed in dark blue jeans, a tight maroon button-down, and three-inch heels, Jay stomps onto the race track. “It doesn’t matter what the hell you were!” She stops inches from my chest. Hands on her hips, she looks up at me, and my response? The skin around my cock tightens. Damn, she’s sexy when she’s pissed. She gets my cock so jacked up.

“Ya do know, the things that make you angry control you.” I wink.

“I’m not angry,” she bites back.

“That’s good.” I bend down and lower my voice for her ears only. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want me in control of you, Miss Rigsby.”

Her eyes linger on my mouth, and for a brief second, I think she might be considering it.

I know that I am.

“I told you before.” She pokes my chest, awakening me from my sex-driven thoughts. “I’m not covering that stunt!”

“Yes. I remember.” I nod, rousing her anger further.

“Apparently, you don’t. I mean, really, Steele, are you insane?”

“Well, I don’t know.” I shrug, weighing my hands. “I guess that could be debatable.”

“Yep, that can definitely be debatable,” Ben agrees with a head bob.

Jay’s eyebrows cave as she stares at Ben for a long, hard second before turning her attention back to me. “No debating here.” She cuts the air with a stern hand. “You can’t do a backflip over a damn Subaru—”

“Mazda Miata,” I correct her.

“Mazda Mi—” She throws her hand in the air with an audible huff. “Whatever! It doesn’t matter—”

“Well, it kind of does,” I interrupt. “See, a Mazda Miata’s total length is a hundred and fifty-four inches and a Subaru, say like a BRZ, is a hundred and sixty-seven inches. Those thirteen inches could make a big difference between me cracking my head on the fender or not.”

“Yep, big difference,” Ben says followed with some more quick head bobbing.

“That’s where you’re both wrong,” she says, shooting daggers at Ben and me. “It doesn’t really make any difference what the differences is between the cars because”—she stops, her aim now accurately directed at me—“you’re not doing the stunt on my company’s dime! It’s not happening!”

“Don’t worry, Jay. I’m just practicing the flips off to the side of the car as it goes by, so I can get a feel for the speed and time lapse for when I actually do attempt the jump.” I raise both hands. “That’s all.”

“I don’t care what you’re doing! Don’t do it here. Don’t do it now. If you want to kill yourself, do it on your own time!” She starts to exit the track.

“Aww.” I touch my chest, eyes fixed on her heart-shaped ass. “You worried about me again, boss?”

She twists around, walking backward like a pro in those damn high heels, and points at me. “Not on my time!”

“Okay, boss,” I say with a one finger salute. “But just so you know, I punched out hours ago.”

She halts, hands slamming back on her sexy hips. “Then why are you here?”

“I like to watch you work, and I wanted to keep an eye on my little bro.” I nudge my head at Crash over in the corner talking to Nathan, one of the cameramen.

“Well, this shoot is for employees only, working employees, not ones who have punched out. So go home, Mr. Kane.”

“Actually …” I rub my clean-shaven chin. For some reason, it always turns up the pink in her cheeks. “Ben owns the place, and he doesn’t mind if I’m here.” I glance over at my longtime friend. “Do ya, Ben?”

“Ah …” He looks between me and Jay. “Miss Rigsby is paying for the use of my track, so, ah—”

“Ben.” I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “Miss Rigsby isn’t paying for anything.”

Ben lifts his old, beat-up NASCAR hat and scratches his thinning red hair. “She’s not?”

“No. She’s not.” I smirk at Jay. “Mindscope Filmworks is footing the bill.”

“Oh, okay.” Ben shrugs. “Then, sorry, Mrs—”

“Miss!” Both Jay and I correct Ben at the same time, our eyes connecting as we acknowledge the importance of her unmarried title.

“Miss Rigsby.” Ben chuckles, eyes on the ground as he kicks the dirt. Even as a kid, Ben’s never been good with conflict. “I guess, Steele can stay then.”

If it were anyone else, I’d laugh at the indignant look on Jay’s face. Like we’re kids at the playground, and she’s the bully trying to kick me out of the sandbox but can’t get her way—not this time—because I got backup. This time, I get to stay, and she can’t do a damn thing about it.

She’s always trying to push me away or put me in my place. I think that I challenge her and that’s what I’ve been working toward. She has feelings for me—the kind that usually end up with two adults rolling around naked in bed—and I think she wants to act on those feelings too but can’t on account of the dead hubby situation. I get it. I’m sure it’s tough getting back out there when the one you were meant to be with for the rest of your life checks out early. She’s having a hard time understanding that I’m not looking to fill his shoes. I’m not interested in love. I just want to help her get over the hump. Like the time my little sis, Lulu, hit the horse on the ass the first time I was on one. I forgot about my fear and went right into survival mode. I learned real quick how to ride the large snorting beast I was straddling. Not that the dead hubby is any comparison to that, but sometimes, all we need is a good hard slap in the ass to get us going.

Sure, she can keep fighting me, but I’m not ready to give up on her. Not sure that I’ll ever be. Perhaps, when she returns to Chicago, maybe then I’ll let it go. Otherwise, what else am I supposed to do, follow her there? There’s not a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. So I got a couple of weeks to convince her to let her guard down, open those nice, long slender legs, and live again. “Invite me over for a drink tonight, off the clock, and then maybe I’ll go.”

“I don’t care what you do. Stay. Go.” She waves her hand. “I don’t care. I just want you to stop doing that stunt.”

“If I stay, I’m not going to stop.” Hell, she might have control over what I do on the clock, but this battle I’m not losing.

“Oh-ho! You’ll stop. On the clock or not, you’re not going to get hurt, end up in the hospital, delay this production, and keep me in this god-awful place any—” She stops, drops her head, and takes a deep breath. Well, now this is new. Guilt pinches my gut because she looks sort of defeated. “Please”—she lifts her head with a fake, tight smile—“just don’t do it anymore.”

“Invite me over.”

“That’s not going to—”

I turn to Gordan, patiently waiting in the little red Mazda Miata, and flick my hand. He comes barreling down the track at 70…80…90 mph. I bend my knees and—

“Stop!” Jay yells just as I complete my flip.

I land on my feet, and Ben gives me the thumbs-up. I grin at him. “I cleared it?”

“Ya sure did by about three inches.”

“No shit!” My smile turns to Jay, who’s now back to a few feet from us, face bright red and eyes rampant with anger. I’m not scared. It’s not the first time I’ve seen her mad. Besides, I like her mad; it makes her sexiness shine. “Did you hear that?” I raise my brows, and her fiery glow intensifies. “Looks like I’m ready.”

Hands balled at her sides, she stomps a heel into the ground and opens her mouth, but before she can get anything out, Ben lifts his cell, the one we’ve been using as a walkie-talkie to communicate with Gordon. “You want me to let Gordy know we’re going for real this time?”

“It’s all up to my boss.” I grin at Jay, her eyes toggling between Ben and me. “What do you think? Should I take a chance with this Mazda, or should I go home and get ready for our date?”

“I … I can’t believe your trying to coerce me.” Her mouth opens and closes. “We’re at work.” She glances around. “I’m a professional, and you’re supposed to be a professional too!” She lowers her voice and leans in toward me. “You can’t bribe me into going out with you, Mr. Kane.”

“Oh, but I can.” I wink. “Remember, I punched out hours ago. This is me on my own time. So what do you say?” I wait a few seconds, and when she doesn’t respond, I turn to Ben. “Tell Gordan—”

“Okay! Fine!” Jay cuts in. “Meet me at the bar in my hotel at seven. I’ll have a drink with you.” She lifts a finger. “Just one, that’s it.”

Ben and I watch as she marches off the track. I tilt my head to the side, raise a brow, and look over at Ben from the corner of my eye. “How far off was I really?”

“At least two feet.” He chuckles.

“Damn.” I whistle. “Maybe this is one of those stunts I should leave for some other crazy asshole.”

“Yeah, if ya like your face, I’d recommend it.” Ben snickers.