“I would never do that,” she said, angry that he would even think she would.

  “A selfish mother who cares more about what she wants or who hates the father might. One way to make sure Joshua never wanted to be near me or race would be to make him hate me.” He smiled sadly. “You’ll find a way to fight me, but not at Joshua’s expense. That shows love and courage.”

  “And you want me here anyway?”

  His thumb feathered over her lower lip. “Wanting you is all I used to think about.”

  Heat balled in her stomach. Her hands trembled and she realized she still held his. She lowered her hands and stepped back. She was more of a coward than he knew. “I probably should get to work.”

  “One more thing. I’ve been thinking about him being out of preschool. Do you think we need to hire him a tutor or maybe a nanny to take him places when we’re busy?” he asked. “There are eleven more races before summer.”

  Eleven races meant twelve weeks. There was no race on Easter Sunday. Tutors and nannies meant permanence. “Cameron, surely you can see now that it’s best for Joshua to have stability. I know and understand you want him here, but he needs friends his own age.”

  “If we work together he’ll have that stability. You’ve had four and a half years. The least you can do is give me unrestricted time with him.”

  His being right didn’t make it any easier for her to acquiesce to what he asked. She glanced away.

  “I know I’m pushing hard and I know you can fight me on this if you want to take it that far.”

  Her head snapped back around. He meant lawyers and court. “No. We’ll work this out for Joshua’s sake.”

  “There are a couple of other things.” Caitlin braced herself. “The housekeeper, Joyce, is usually here every day when I’m home, but I called and told her to wait until next week to give us time to get settled in. If you decide you want to interview a teacher or a nanny, I have a list with their contact information on my desk.”

  “I’ll let you know. ’Night.”

  “Good night, Caitlin,” Cameron said and left the room.

  Not likely, she thought.

  Chapter 10

  She woke up in another tangle of sheets. Erotic dreams of Cameron—again. Throwing back the covers, she pulled on her robe and left to check on Joshua.

  “Good mor—” The rumpled bed was empty. Panic hit her. She whirled, raced to Cameron’s room and found the bed neatly made. She headed for the stairs. Surely Cameron wouldn’t have changed his mind about working things out.

  Two steps away from the stairs, she heard the shared laughter of father and son. Relief swept though her. She continued to the kitchen. They were sitting side by side at the table, their dark heads bent over a magazine.

  She wasn’t aware of making a sound, but Cameron looked up, frowning. “You all right?”

  “Morning, Mommy,” Joshua greeted. “Daddy was showing me his racing team in the magazine.”

  “I see.” She barely glanced at the Sports Illustrated. “Have you two had breakfast?”

  “Daddy fixed waffles, and I helped,” Joshua said.

  Caitlin placed her hand on his head. “I bet you were a big help too.”

  “That’s what Daddy said.” He grinned up at her.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Cameron had that stubborn look she was all too familiar with. The one that had swept aside her opposition and landed her and Joshua in his home. She took a seat by Joshua. “He wasn’t in his bed.”

  “And you thought the worst,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth, the concern in his eyes a moment ago gone.

  “I’m sorry.” There was no sense in denying the truth. The upcoming trip had her nerves tied in knots.

  Cameron grunted and stood. “Joshua and I are going to the garage.”

  Joshua came to his feet, picked up his cap to put on his head, turning it around backward just as his father did. “We have to make sure the car is ready for the race on Sunday.”

  It was happening, and there was nothing she could do to steer Joshua in a different direction—if she stayed at the house. “Do you mind if I come with you?”

  Cameron’s eyes narrowed. Before when they were together, she seldom visited the garage and only stayed for a few laps of the actual race. “The car is leaving in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Caitlin hurried to get dressed. This was for Joshua.

  At the garage, Caitlin recognized many of the men working there. They nodded, then went back to work. They hadn’t forgotten or forgiven her running out on Cameron. She could accept that. What she couldn’t accept was Joshua following in his father’s footsteps.

  “Caitlin, how are you?” Mike asked.

  “Fine, thank you, Mike.” Caitlin stuck her hands into the pockets of her jeans after the brief handshake. “How have you been?”

  “Great. Cameron is headed toward another Chase Cup and my daughter is on the circuit, too.”

  Caitlin remembered the beautiful, dark-haired young woman who had come to a couple of races. “She races, too?”

  Mike chuckled. “I thought she might at one time join her brother in the Nationwide Series, but she likes promoting the drivers more. She’s the PR rep for Cameron and some of the other drivers. She’s good at it, too.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  Mike turned, a smile already forming on his round face. “It isn’t nice sneaking up on people.”

  “With all this noise, who can sneak,” Hope said, smiling back at her father, then her gaze centered on Caitlin. The smile remained, but it became restrained. “You must be Caitlin Lawrence.”

  “Yes,” Caitlin answered. Mike might have forgiven Caitlin, but obviously his daughter hadn’t, which was strange since she hadn’t represented Cameron when they were together.

  “Caitlin and Joshua came to look over the shop,” Mike said by way of explanation.

  Hope’s dark brow arched. “I thought you didn’t like racing.”

  Lines darted across his father’s forehead. “Hope, she’s entitled to her opinion.”

  “Not when it interferes with my client,” Hope said, her voice as devoid of warmth as her face. “We’re three races into the season with a big win at Daytona. He doesn’t need any distractions.”

  “Hope—”

  “I’m more aware than you will ever be of what Cameron needs,” Caitlin said, cutting off Mike. “To me and Joshua, he’s more than a paycheck.”

  Hope’s dark eyes flashed, narrowed. “Why—”

  “Caitlin,” Mike said, catching her arm and leading her away from the other woman, who looked ready to pounce. “You’ll have to forgive Hope. Her mother and I tried to teach her manners, and we did a good job until she followed her brother onto the race circuit, getting to know the business and making contacts.”

  He led Caitlin inside the hauler. “She’s learned to be tough in a man’s world where she’s in the minority. It was that or get stepped on or pushed aside or, worse, being harassed. My baby doesn’t take any guff.”

  “Neither do I and I’ve had to be tough as well,” Caitlin said tightly.

  Mike opened a refrigerator. “Water, Pepsi, Gatorade?”

  “Water.” She didn’t need the kick of the caffeine, she was wound up enough.

  Unscrewing the top, Mike gave her the bottle. “Cameron didn’t offer explanations beyond the fact that you two were back together, and if anyone made you or Joshua feel uncomfortable they’d have to deal with him.”

  Caitlin took a swig of her drink. “Guess Hope didn’t get the memo.”

  “Tell Cameron she tried to chew on you, and you’ll find out.” He popped the top of a Pepsi. “You and Joshua mean a lot to him.”

  “Not enough for him to stop racing.” Her hand clenched the bottle. There, she’d said it.

  To his credit, Mike didn’t throw up the sign of the cross. NASCAR was sacred to the men who were on a driver’s team.

  “Could you stop breathing?” he asked.

  Caitlin didn’t dignify the question with an answer.

  “That’s what racing is like to us. It’s what we live and breathe, and to be on a winning team is as close to heaven as some of us will ever get.” He stared down at his soda. “Cameron beat the odds to be here, just as Mario, my son, and Hope and I are doing. We had to be better because our skin was darker. We proved we belong here with wins and the Chase Cup last year. Look at the stats. Some drivers never get to Victory Lane. Heck, they don’t even make the cut to the forty-three cars. Cameron has never missed qualifying.”

  “Are you saying that he may because I’m here?” she questioned.

  “Qualifying is a lot different than winning the race. Las Vegas is a good track, wide with enough maneuvering room for a driver to pass, but it’s still four grueling hours with nothing but you and the car, pitting your skills against the track and the other drivers. A man has to have his head on straight. If not . . .”

  She knew Mike was thinking about the fifteen straight races Cameron had lost after she left him at the altar. “It might sound strange, but I want him to win.”

  “You just don’t want to see it.”

  She glanced away from his piercing eyes. “There are reasons.”

  “I figured,” he said as she faced him again. “Cameron is a grown man, but I’m crew chief. It’s my job to get number twenty-three across the finish line first. You two will figure this out or you won’t. We have to take race day as it comes. You can’t run the race again, and the race will always come first.”

  Her chin lifted. “That is a lesson I already learned.” She set her bottle of water on the counter. “Good-bye.”

  Cameron didn’t like Caitlin being afraid. He knew that look as she came out of the hauler. He hadn’t been able to get her to overcome that fear in the past. He didn’t hold out much hope now.

  Joshua was as outgoing as she was reserved. At the moment he was with his pit crew, and they were telling tall tales about his father. Thankfully, she hadn’t let her shyness and fears keep their son from being inquisitive.

  “Safety measures have changed in the past five years,” he said as she approached him. “The crew is one of the best in the business. We work as a team. Number twenty-three car doesn’t move unless we’re sure she’s in top shape.”

  “What about last Saturday?” she asked.

  “We knew there were a few bugs in number thirty-six. The race was to find the problems.”

  “Instead you ended up in the hospital.”

  “Without any major injuries, and if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have found my son.” There was censure in his voice, his direct gaze.

  “I think I’ll take Joshua home.”

  Cameron’s brow lifted. She’d said “home” and not back to his “house.” He pulled the keys to his truck from his pocket. “Joshua.” He pitched his voice to be heard over the machinery.

  Joshua looked around from watching two men work on number 23’s engine. He started toward them.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Cameron said

  “All right.” She met Joshua halfway. Taking his hand, she left the garage without looking back.

  Caitlin couldn’t sleep that night and didn’t waste her time trying. Instead she changed into lightweight sweats and went to the drafting table in a corner of the room. Every time she saw the table or recalled Cameron’s thoughtfulness regarding her welfare, her heart turned over.

  She told herself she was silly to put more meaning to it than his making it easier for her to stay, but she couldn’t quite make herself believe that. She didn’t want them to be enemies, and as her body awakened more and more to him, she couldn’t deny that she missed the closeness they had once shared. Not just the intimacy, although that had been earth-shattering. No, she’d enjoyed talking to him, reveled in his love.

  Hunching over the table, she studied the partially finished comic strip. She had to stop thinking about Cameron. This paid the bills. She was lucky that she was a month ahead of the Sunday comic strip that ran in over 350 newspapers. That number could shrunk as newspapers merged or simply devoted the space to something else.

  Her hand paused over the outline of Joshua’s face. With Cameron, she no longer had to worry about having enough money for Joshua’s college education. Instead she worried that Joshua might not stay with her or not want to go to college at all. Despite his mother’s concern, Cameron had begun racing after obtaining an associate degree in business. He’d shown everyone that he was mature and disciplined enough to race and win.

  Until she’d come along.

  A knock sounded on the door. Cameron. She straightened, her hand automatically running over her hair before she caught herself and groaned. Giving in to the attraction between them was asking for trouble, and they had enough to deal with.

  “Caitlin,” Cameron called. “You awake?”

  “Yes. Come in.”

  He came inside, closing the door after him. “I see you’re working.”

  Trying, she thought, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Any more than she would admit that it was becoming more and more difficult not to give in to the temptation of the signals Cameron kept tossing out. He smelled and looked good enough to bite, and she knew just the place.

  She twisted on the stool. “Yes. I wanted to finish this by the weekend.” There was no way she’d be able to concentrate once they left for Las Vegas.

  “It’s after one.”

  She shrugged. “I often work while he’s asleep.” And on those long lonely nights when memories of me and Cameron locked in passion and need haunted me . . . like tonight.

  Cameron peeked over her shoulder at the drawing and chuckled. “Something tells me that Joshua really did try to fry an egg on the sidewalk.”

  Caitlin’s mouth curved upward. The little boy in the comic strip, spatula in hand, squatted in front of a raw egg on the sidewalk. The caption read: “Mommy’s breakfast.” “He’s so inquisitive and bright. Watching him laughing and trying to catch a butterfly when he could barely walk gave me the idea for the strip.”

  “I wish I could have seen him then.” The yearning in Cameron’s voice made her heart ache.

  “Perhaps you can.” Putting the pad aside, she went to the dresser and picked up a five-inch-thick photo album. “I asked Diana to send this overnight. I thought you might like to see it.”

  She opened the album. The first picture was of Joshua and Caitlin shortly after he’d been born. She frowned over the picture as she usually did because her hair was a mess. She had on no makeup, of course, but she hadn’t been able to stop grinning.

  Quietly Cameron took the album and sat down on her bed and began flipping pages. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat down beside him and smiled at a picture of Joshua, smiling back at her with one baby tooth, arms raised. “This was taken at eight months when he started walking. He hasn’t slowed down since.”

  There were pictures of Joshua playing soccer, at church programs, at his first day of prekindergarten. Cameron’s blunt-tipped fingers traced over the last photograph: Joshua and Caitlin standing beside their family science project and him holding a first-place ribbon.

  “I missed a lot.”

  The regret in his voice tore at her. “Please try to understand. I only wanted to keep him safe.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for me to always be afraid for you.”

  Trying to understand her fears, Cameron pulled her into his arms. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want Joshua to find you just to lose you.”

  “Please don’t cry.” He kissed her forehead, the curve of her cheek, before settling on her mouth. Desire rushed through him. He gathered her closer, feeding off the sweetness of her mouth, reveling in the elegant length of her body pressed against his.

  She was everything that he had ever desired. To have her in his arms, to be able to sweep his hand down her bare back, over her hips, feel her body awaken beneath his hand, was heaven on earth.

  The hard buds of her nipples pushed against his chest. He had to touch them. His hand swept under her top, felt the smooth, satiny skin. His heart thumped like a jackhammer. Her breast was fuller, yet firm. It filled his hand. Moaning softly, she arched against him. She’d always had sensitive breasts. His thumb stroked the hard peak. Her hands flexed on his shoulders.

  He wanted her naked beneath him. Grabbing the bottom of the sweat top, he lifted it, flinging it aside.

  “We—” Whatever she had been about to say turned into a moan as his mouth replaced his hand, his breath warm, his tongue gliding around the underside of her breast again and again before finally closing on the turgid point. Her hand clutched his head to her as her lower body moved restlessly beneath him.

  His hand slid over her quivering stomach into her heat, stroked the tight bud. She came off the bed, undulating against his hands. What little control he had snapped. He quickly finished undressing her, then himself before coming back down on top of her.

  His sigh mixed with hers at the rightness, the pleasure of bare skin against bare skin, hard to soft. She was all the woman he would ever need.

  “This won’t change anything,” she murmured, even as her nails dug into his shoulders, her eyes burned with need. His body was lean and hard in all the right places and she wanted him. This shouldn’t be happening, but if he pulled away she might die.

  His answer was to surge into her moist heat, filling her. She clenched around him. Both moaned at the rightness, the intense pleasure. Then he began to move. Heaven.

  Lifting her hips, she eagerly met each thrust as he glided in and out, taking her higher and higher to the point of no return. She locked her legs around him, buried her face against his shoulder, and let arousing sensations sweep over and through her.

  Each stroke pleasured her, thrilled her. He began to move faster, the delicious friction of their bodies taking her closer to the edge. Conscious thought became impossible.