His blood hot, he clamped his hand beneath her hips, deepening the contact. He felt his body tightening and fused his mouth on hers, his tongue imitating the driving motion of his hips. He jerked, spasmed, felt her go over with him.

  His breathing harsh, he lifted his head and stared down at her. Slowly her eyes opened. Pleasure, not regret, stared back at him.

  Rolling over, he picked her up and started from the room. “Cameron! Stop!” she shrieked as he shifted her in his arms to open her door. “Joshua.”

  “Is asleep—unless you wake him up.” Nudging the door wider, he continued to his bedroom, swinging the door closed behind him

  “Cameron, I can’t sleep in here.”

  He placed her on the bed, coming down on top of her. “You won’t be doing any sleeping for a long time.”

  She gasped. His hot mouth covered her, his tongue thrusting inside her. The faint embers of sated passion flared white-hot. Cameron made her body hot, made it crave what only he could give her—mindless passion.

  She locked her arms around him. Time enough for regrets tomorrow.

  “We’re leaving this afternoon for the next race.”

  In bed that morning, sated from a night of love-making, she stared at Cameron, wished she were dressed. “Is that why last night happened?”

  Cameron’s face harshened “Last night had nothing to do with this and you know it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pulled the sheet tighter to her naked breasts. “It’s just that he is so taken with you. He wants to be like you.”

  “And you think that’s bad?” Cameron asked, his hands on his hips.

  The softly spoken question didn’t fool Caitlin. He was angry. “In some ways. You’re honest, intelligent, caring, but you’re also driven and single-minded when it comes to racing despite the dangers and the time it consumes.”

  “It’s what I was born to do. There’s only one thing that has ever come close to the feeling I get when I’m pitting my skills against other drivers. When I’m buried deep inside you, and you’re clinging to me.”

  Caitlin’s heart thumped. Her nipples tightened.

  “We’ll be gone through the weekend,” he told her. “A driver is taking us to the airfield.”

  “If I refuse to go?”

  “You won’t. Despite your fears, you won’t deprive Joshua of spending time with his father.”

  He knew her too well. “I would to keep him from following in your footsteps.”

  “Like I said, you might not have a choice.” He glanced at his watch. “In the meantime, we have a plane to catch.”

  Chapter 11

  Race day was filled with excitement for the more than two hundred thousand plus fans, the owners of the cars and their drivers and crew, the sponsors—large and small—and all the other people at the track who made NASCAR racing possible. The haulers with the race cars and motor coaches of the NASCAR drivers came in on Thursday, and the drivers usually arrived Thursday evening for qualifying races on Friday.

  Saturday was spent fine-tuning the car, pushing it to get the maximum speed, learning the track, taking practice runs in anticipation for the big race day on Sunday.

  No matter how many times Cameron raced, he never tired of it. The excitement was just as high, the anticipation just as thrilling.

  Mid-morning Sunday he zipped up his suit, picked up his sunshades, put on his team cap. It was time for him to leave for the garage. Number 23 had already passed the NASCAR officials’ inspection, a necessary and nerve-racking hurdle whose outcome you were never sure of. An infraction could cost a fine or disqualification. After the race the cars in the top five were inspected again.

  NASCAR was concerned about all the cars being on an even playing field, but also that the cars were as safe as possible. If only he could get Caitlin to see that. He’d tried to get her to go to the inspections, but she wouldn’t even take the track pass for the infield.

  He stared at the bed they had shared. Last night she’d been almost desperate for him. The race was the reason. Once he left, she wasn’t sure he’d walk back though the door again.

  He found Caitlin and Joshua in the kitchen. Caitlin sat hunched over a sketch pad. Joshua had his arms folded across his chest, his small face mutinous.

  His son wasn’t any more pleased than his father that he wasn’t going to watch the race. In the distance, Cameron heard the revving of motors, which meant some of the crews were still working on their cars prior to inspection. Once that happened all would be quiet. Car motors would be silenced and wouldn’t come on again until the grand marshal said the famous “Gentlemen, start your engines.”

  Until that happened, the crew happily pushed the car to inspection, to get fueled up, and then onto the grass infield of the track, the adrenaline pumping in their veins.

  “Why can’t we go to the race to watch Daddy?” Joshua asked.

  “Because I have to finish this and, since Cameron is racing, there would be no one to watch you.”

  “I bet we could find someone.” Joshua was nothing if not persistent when he wanted something. Just like his father.

  “I don’t know anyone here.”

  He came out of his seat. “Yes we do. We know Hope and Mike, and the other men in Daddy’s crew.”

  “They’re all busy.”

  He plopped back into his chair. “I want to see Daddy race.”

  “No, Joshua, and that is final,” she said in a voice that had Joshua tightening his arms.

  “Can a fellow get a good-luck hug?” Cameron asked.

  Joshua’s face lit up. Jumping out of his chair, he ran to his father. Cameron scooped him up to hold him tight. No matter how many times he held his son, it still humbled him that he was his. And the woman staring at them with fear she tried to hide, was the reason. He held out his other arm.

  Biting her lips, she came, burrowing into his chest. He kissed the top of her head. Words hadn’t helped in the past; they wouldn’t help now. “Joshua, how about tomorrow before we head home we go have some fun.” His son’s head lifted. “We can go see pirates and their ship, play games.” He leaned closer. “And when Mommy’s not looking, stuff ourselves with hot dogs and ice cream.”

  His son’s eyes glittered for a few seconds. He leaned closer and whispered, “She always knows.”

  Cameron laughed, then sobered. “I love you, son. Take care of your mother.” After another hug, he released them and went to the door.

  “Take care of yourself,” Caitlin said, trying to smile and failing miserably.

  “I will,” Cameron told her.

  “Get the checkered flag,” Joshua told him. Caitlin pulled him close.

  “I’ll do my best.” Opening the door, Cameron went down the steps and headed for the garage.

  “I wish I could have gone with Daddy,” Joshua bemoaned over and over.

  Caitlin felt like putting her head in her lap and weeping. She’d kept Joshua with her on numerous occasions when she was on deadline and had to finish a strip. He was too inquisitive to leave alone. The sofa incident indicated that. He’d never minded before, but then he didn’t have a father he adored.

  “Mommy, why can’t I go with Daddy? I bet we could find someone to look after me.”

  A four-year-old could nag with the best of them and would never tire of asking why. An hour after Cameron left, Caitlin had a pounding headache. “All right. You can watch it on television.”

  He jumped up and ran to grab the remote from the counter. Since Cameron had had it on earlier while watching preracing, the stands of the Las Vegas Motor Speedway instantly filled the screen. “Gentlemen, start your engines.”

  “There goes Daddy’s car!” Joshua cried, inching closer to the screen.

  Her heart thumping in her chest, her palms sweaty, Caitlin glanced away. The start of the race, when the cars were so close and trying to position themselves better, was always scary to her. It only took a moment to cause an accident. To her, it didn’t matter how much maneuvering room the cars had. A picture flashed in her mind of Cameron’s crumpled car at the California Speedway. Crossing the room, she picked up the control and hit the off button.

  “Mommyyy!”

  “I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you help me finish the strip, and then you can help me make dinner for your father. He’ll be hungry when he returns.”

  “I guess.” But his head was cocked as he listened to the muted roar of the engines. They were in the infield, the racetrack surrounded them. In the stands the sounds were earsplitting.

  She put her hand on his shoulder to turn him to her and distract him. “We’ll make brownies for dessert.”

  Joshua’s face didn’t brighten the way she expected at the mention of his favorite dessert. Determined not to be deterred, she led him to the kitchen and turned on the radio to an easy-listening station. “This will be fun,” she promised, turning up the radio.

  He’d come around once they began making the brownies. He liked helping, and later licking the spoon.

  They were halfway into the recipe when there was a knock on the door. Her heart lurched. She almost dropped the bowl she held in the crook of her arm.

  “Daddy!” Joshua cried and raced to the door.

  Caitlin couldn’t move until Joshua reached the door. The race would last for hours. “No!” Her sharp command had him stopping and turning to her. The knock came again. Setting the bowl down with unsteady hands, she went to the door. Saying a prayer, she opened it.

  Hope, in a short-sleeved pink blouse and skinny jeans, stood there wearing a headset. She didn’t look happy. “Cameron asked me to check on you once the race started.”

  “He’s all right, isn’t he?” Caitlin drew Joshua closer.

  The irritation in Hope’s dark eyes vanished. “You really are—” She stopped abruptly and looked down at Joshua, who was intently staring at her.

  “Can you watch me?” Joshua asked. “I want to see my daddy race.”

  Caitlin pulled him back to her. “No.”

  Hope hunkered down, a smile on her beautiful olive-skinned face. “It’s pretty busy out there now, Joshua. The garage is red light, which means no one without a special pass can get into that area. The pit area is worse with the pit crews waiting for their drivers to come in, owners, the news media, and all the other people.”

  Joshua’s head lowered. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Hope glanced at a silent Caitlin, who couldn’t hide the misery in her face, then back at Joshua. “But I tell you what. I’ll have my dad tell your daddy that you’re pulling for him.”

  His head came up. Happiness glittered in eyes so like his father’s. “You will?”

  “I promise.” Hope pushed to her feet and spoke to Caitlin. “At the next race I’m getting you a hot pass. You can use it or not, but if you need to get to the garage or infield area at any time, you’ll have access. I need to get back. Bye.” She opened the door and stepped outside.

  There was a load roar from the crowd. Hope shot her fist into the air. “Wahooo.” Grinning, she whirled around and leaned down to Joshua. “Your daddy just moved into fifth place.”

  Joshua grinned back and looked up at his mother. “You hear that, Mommy? Daddy said he never wants to be back farther than ten and five is closer than ten.”

  She’d heard, but that meant there were four cars ahead of him who would do their best not to let him pass, and a number of cars behind him who wanted his spot. “Yes, Joshua, I heard.”

  “Cameron is one of the best,” Hope said, the words obviously meant to reassure.

  “I know. He’s just not invincible. Thank you for coming.”

  Hope nodded and went down the steps. Caitlin reached for the door.

  “I can hear the cars!” Joshua said with excitement. “I wanna see Daddy race!”

  The headache that had abated came back with a vengeance. Caitlin swung the door closed. “Cameron, at the moment I could strangle you.”

  “Cameron.” Mike’s voice came on the headset. “Your newest fan is pulling for you.”

  Cameron didn’t say anything to the signal they’d worked out. There was a camera inches away from his face. He came out of the back stretch and straightened. He went low and passed car number 47. With his headphones on, he couldn’t hear the crowd’s reaction to his passing last year’s winner of the race. He didn’t have time to think about it.

  “How am I doing?” The drivers couldn’t tell how many laps or their speed.

  “Great. Sixty laps. I think you need to come in for a four-tire change. I’ve got a feeling this one is going to come down to traction.”

  His crew could make the change in less than nine seconds on the three-bolt tire, but a quarter of a second had won a race.

  “You’ve lost rubber, Cameron. Bring her on in. We’ll be waiting.”

  He could argue, wanted to, but took the exit to the infield, slowing down only marginally and looking for the flag with number 23. The pit was hectic with the pit stops of forty-three cars separated by mere feet.

  He spotted the number 23 sign and pulled into the assigned spot. Even before he stopped his seven-man team scrambled over the wall. A NASCAR official eyed their every movement.

  The right side of the car lifted as two tires came off and new ones went on. He heard the whirring sound of the nuts being tightened. A bottle of water on a pole came through the window. Since he was wearing a fire-resistant suit, it was hotter than Hades in the unair-conditioned car. You sweated so much you didn’t have to worry about a potty break. That’s why drivers were always seen chugging drinks during interviews after the race.

  The right side went down and the left came up. A crew member peeled off the dirty layer of the windshield. Three seconds ticked by. The car hit the ground with a bounce.

  “Go!”

  Tires grabbing for traction, Cameron sped off toward the entrance to the racetrack straight ahead.

  “Number forty-seven coming fast on your right!” Mike and the spotter shouted in unison.

  Cameron barely kept from cursing as he jerked hard to the left to keep from tangling with number 47 running all out to get back on the track. Haskell wanted his second win at the track and his first of the season.

  There was no sense getting angry. He needed all of his concentration to win the race. Anger was a waste of time and energy and made concentration next to impossible. Cameron pressed on the accelerator and hit the track. “How am I?”

  “You’re one-half lap back and still in fourth place. Drive smart and you can get the flag. Your new fan is counting on it.”

  Cameron took the next curve with barely a decrease in speed. He felt the slight slide of the car in turns three and four but then the new treadless tires gripped the track and he was headed down the front stretch. He’d tell Mike he was right later. Now, car number 59 was in sight and Cameron intended for it to be eating his dust when they came around the track again.

  He was winning the race.

  Caitlin burned the brownies, which her son was only too happy to tell her about. If he wasn’t usually a sweet-tempered child, she wasn’t sure how she would have handled the long hours they stayed in the motor coach.

  “Mommy, what are we going to have for dessert? You said the brownies were for Daddy.”

  Caitlin stared down at her son. No matter what they did—coloring, playing on his entertainment center—he always came back to the burned food.

  Was he being sassy or merely making a point? With her head throbbing she couldn’t decide. She massaged her temples. Perhaps she should have taken Joshua and left in the car provided for Cameron. What stopped her was the fear that if something did happen, she wouldn’t be there.

  “You said Daddy would be hungry.”

  The fingers of her right hand joined the left. Perhaps she shouldn’t have taught him that he could always ask questions and say—as long as it was respectful—what was on his mind. He was obviously annoyed with her for not letting him see the race. There was nothing a parent liked worse than hearing “you said.”

  “You said—”

  “Joshua.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “I know what I said and I know you’re upset with me, but you still can’t go see the race.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Daddy will understand about the brownies.”

  “I wanted to see him race.”

  “It’s hard to accept sometimes, but we can’t always get what we want,” she told him. She knew that better than anyone.

  “But I wanna see Daddy race. I bet the other drivers’ children get to see their fathers race.”

  He was certainly pushing all the buttons. Next to “you said,” being compared to other parents was guaranteed to make a parent bend or go left. “I’m not like other parents.”

  Down went his head again. “I know.”

  Caitlin couldn’t determine if his reaction was a compliment or a put-down. She stared at the top of his head. “I love you, Joshua.”

  After a long moment his head came up. “I love you, too.”

  She picked him up just as the cell phone in her pocket rang. She pulled it out, saw it was Diana and answered. She needed the calming voice of a friend. “Hi, Diana. I’m glad you—”

  “Quick. Turn on the TV. Cameron is going neck and neck with one lap to go.” The line went dead.

  Joshua heard what Diana had said. In a flash, he wiggled down and grabbed the control, clicking on the TV before she could stop him. The screen filled with two race cars—Cameron’s in black and purple, the other in green and white—flying around the track. “Go, Daddy! Go, Daddy!”

  “This is when the race comes down to skill. Two of NASCAR’S best drivers refusing to give an inch as they head down the stretch with one lap to go. Cameron McBride is looking for his second win of the season, but Burt Haskell has won two races on this track and isn’t about to give up without a fight. He almost tangled with McBride’s car coming out of the pit stop earlier in the race,” the race commentator said. “Wanna bet McBride hasn’t forgotten and it’s probably given him an extra incentive to win this one.”