Sleek and sophisticated, not unlike the man beside her. The man she’d seen half-dressed this morning.
“Better yet, it’s a fast car.” He opened her door then sprinted around the front to the driver’s side. He settled behind the wheel and reached into the glove compartment for a blue ball cap. “Are you ready?”
“Nope.” Her fingers curled into the supple leather. All the better to prevent her from touching Malcolm. “I guess that doesn’t matter, though.”
“Sorry about that.” He tugged on the cap, clicked the garage door opener and revved the finely tuned engine to life. She caught the scent of his aftershave in the close confines of the sports car.
Her stomach twittered at every growl of the engine. The garage door rumbled as it rolled up, revealing the clusters of people outside.
Somehow, her hand sought out his forearm and squeezed.
As he nosed out, fans pushed at the line of security guards, the high-pitched squeals and flashing bulbs piercing even the thick, tinted windows.
Only a slight flex of muscles along Malcolm’s jaw showed any frustration on his part. This was, after all, everyday life to him now. And so totally alien to her.
The deeper they drove into the swarm of fans and paparazzi, the more and more she felt like Alice in Wonderland falling headfirst into the rabbit hole.
An hour later, Malcolm floored the Maserati on a deserted country road. The high-performance vehicle had given him the speed and maneuverability to dodge the paparazzi that had trailed him out of Celia’s garage. Miles of empty farm fields rolled ahead of them, broken by the occasional sprawling oak or faded red barn.
Best of all, there was almost zero traffic. Tractors chewed up the land off to the side. So far, only two trucks had passed going the other direction. She’d made her calls to reassure her father and to detail the program requirements for the other music teacher.
Finally, he had Celia safely away and all to himself. He wasn’t trusting the press not to find the distinctive car, so he had more change-ups planned. For now, he had a short window to be with Celia, alone on the open road. He needed to use this time wisely to help put her at ease around him again. If he expected to make a serious go at putting the past to rest, then she had to stop walking on eggshells all the time.
She’d showed signs of cold feet about coming to Europe with him when she’d seen the press and fans packing her lawn. Although, that paparazzi sit-in had also offered him the perfect excuse to whisk her away faster. Once he got her out of town and away from whoever was trying to scare the hell out of her, then he could …
What?
Somehow with that kiss, things had shifted between them. In spite of what she’d said about not sleeping together, the heat between them was still there, but matured. He’d spent most of the night thinking about her, wanting her. They were both adults. They both had settled into their lives and careers.
She hadn’t been ready to see that attraction through to its conclusion last night. He could understand that. He meant it when he’d said he would not do anything to hurt her or abuse her trust. But he had to accept that the kiss changed everything. Though he’d meant to stay away, he now knew he couldn’t leave this mission without having her one last time.
As for their past feelings for each other? Puppy love. The flowery notion of soul mates was a crock. Something created to sell music, movies and greeting cards. He was a more practical man these days. He and Celia could indulge in sex without risking their hearts.
Now he just needed to convince her.
He glanced over at Celia, his eyes drawn to the curve of her legs. Hell, he was even turned on by her cute feet with pink-painted toenails peeking out of her sandals.
Crap.
Focus on the road, idiot.
He downshifted around a curve on the two-lane highway. “I’m sorry to have made you miss out on the concert.”
“I know you were just trying to help.”
“Still, it sucks to lose something you’ve obviously worked hard on.” He felt the weight of her stare and glanced over to find her forehead furrowed. “What?”
“Thank you for understanding how important this was to me—for not dismissing it. I know we’re not a sold-out coliseum or a royal audience.”
“Music isn’t about the size or income of the audience.”
She smiled for the first time since they’d left her home. “It’s about touching the heart, the soul.”
His grip tightened on the wheel as he thought of another time she’d said much the same thing. One night, he’d brought along his guitar to serenade her under the stars. He’d picked up fast food and a blanket and told himself someday he would give her better. Give her more. She’d quickly reassured him that money didn’t matter to her, just the heart and the soul.
He should have listened to her. She hadn’t wanted this kind of life then any more than now. Regardless of what she wanted, though, she did need him. At least for the moment.
Accelerating, he sped down the deserted two-lane road.
Celia smoothed the wrinkles from her gauzy dress. “That was quite an impressive getaway. I thought for sure someone would get hit or at the very least have their toes run over. But you got us out of there without anyone getting hurt. Where did you learn to drive like that?”
“Part of the job training.” Except, it had more to do with his Interpol work than the music world, but he tried to stick to the truth as much as he could, as if that somehow made up for the huge lie of omission. But then it wasn’t something he had leave to work into conversation. Hey, I moonlight as a freelance agent for Interpol.
She laughed lightly. “I must have missed the driving class in my music education.”
“I have a friend who’s a race-car driver.” Another truth. “He gave me lessons.”
“What friend is that?” She turned toward him, hitching her knee up so her whole body shifted.
For a second, his gaze drifted to the hem of her dress. The hint of skin the movement had exposed.
“Elliot Starc. We went to school together.”
She gasped. “You went to school with Elliot Starc, the international race-car driver?”
“You know about Starc?” He stared at the road harder and told himself to keep his head on straight. “Most of the women I’ve met don’t follow racing.”
“Honey, this is the South, where people live and breathe NASCAR.” Her soft drawl thickened a little as she laughed again. “Starc is, of course, more Formula One, but some of my father’s friends take their racing interests further.”
“Fair enough. So you’ve heard of Eric, then.”
“There must have been a lot of lessons to get that good at maneuvering … the speed.” She shook her head, her hair shifting over her shoulders. “I’m still dizzy.”
He glanced at her sharply. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. I’m all right.” She laughed softly. “Goodness knows I got enough speeding tickets as a teenager. I’m a more sedate driver these days. I no longer expect Daddy to fix my tickets for me.”
“A lot of time has passed.”
“Yet you’re here. We’re here.” The confusion in her voice reached out to him. But before he could figure out what the hell to say, she continued, “I just don’t want you to get hurt protecting me.”
“I’ll be fine. I told you. I have this under control.”