She watched as he slowly moved around the car, letting his fingers glide over its body. She imagined those fingers touching her with the same reverence, and shivered. If she had it her way, she’d be getting that tour by the end of the night. “I don’t remember these being here,” he said, running his hand over the bold red racing stripes running from the front end to the back.

“They weren’t,” Patti confirmed, moving to stand in front of it. “After I finished banging out the last of the dents, I guess I got a little design happy and decided to give it a little extra flair.” She shrugged. “I think it makes her look dangerous,” she said with a wink in his direction. “Sexy and sleek. Fast.”

As Jon stared into the reflective black finish, his expression grew so distant, that she feared she’d lost him.

“Jon?” Taking a step toward him, Patti flinched, startled when Jon jerked his hand away from the car as though he’d been burned.

“Let’s take my truck.” His voice was devoid of emotion, but his eyes were full of turbulence.

Patti approached him with caution and laid her hand on his arm. “Jon, what’s wrong?” She wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was scaring her.

“Let’s take my truck,” he repeated, and this time he turned his haunted eyes on her. “I can drive.”

“Jon,” Patti said with a drawn out sigh. She looked down at her car then back up at him. “That defeats the purpose of me taking you out. What’s going on? Why don’t you want me to drive?” A thought occurred to her and she jammed her fists on her hips. “This isn’t some pigheaded way of saying you’re not comfortable with me driving because I’m a girl, is it?”

Jon’s face twisted. “What? Of course not!”

“Then what is this all about?”

Pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, Jon shook his head and released a frustrated breath. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He gave her a false smile and bent to kiss her. Patti pressed her lips to his, but she could feel that something wasn’t right with him. “Come on,” Jon said, moving past her to open the passenger door. He motioned for her to get in.

“What? You think you’re going to drive?” she asked. “No way. No one touches my baby but me.”

Jon’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t trust me?”

“I’ve seen the way you drive, remember?”

“Is this about the accident?” Jon’s brows lifted in surprise. “Because I would argue that since then, you’ve been on the receiving end of my awesome driving skills, so you really can’t hold that against me.”

Patti bit down on her lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Jon coaxed. Snaking his arm around her waist, he forced her legs to move until she was standing in the opening of the door. Lowering his head, he feathered wet kisses down the side of her neck. “Get in, Patricia,” he whispered. “Let me demonstrate how well I can…maneuver in and out of tight places.”

Patti felt her insides turn to liquid and she leaned into him, allowing Jon to support her. Feeling her placidity, Jon scraped his teeth over her sensitive skin and nipped her earlobe. Easing her into the car, he leaned inside and reached around her, drawing the buckle across her waist and securing her tightly in the passenger seat. He held out his hand. “Keys?”

Dazed, Patti dropped them into his palm. Jon closed the door and moved around to the driver’s side, and slid in behind the wheel. He grinned over at her, looking like the cat that ate the canary. “Since I have no idea where we’re headed, you’re going to have to guide the way.”

“For such a successful businessman, you really didn’t think this through,” Patti joked.

Jon fired up the engine and looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot. “I find life is a little more exciting when you introduce some spontaneity. Where are we going?”

Leaning her head back against the seat, Patti let her head fall to the side and took in Jon’s strong profile. Where were they going? She had no idea, but wherever they ended up, she had a feeling it was going to be an adventure and she wasn’t all together sure how she’d fare at the end of it.

“Patti?” Jon turned his head to look at her. “Left or right?”

Blinking away her thoughts, Patti pointed. “Right.”

11

Jon wasn’t sure whether he should be thrilled or freaked the hell out. Patti’s idea of fun was heart-stopping torture for him.

Standing tall, his chest out and his chin held high, no one would be the wiser that he was on the verge of having a total meltdown. Trying not to put her hand in a death grip, Jon allowed Patti to drag him toward the Raceway gates. The ticket master, a paunchy, middle-aged man with a comb over held out his hand, and she dropped two tickets into his sweaty palm.

“Enjoy the race,” the man said in a monotone voice that suggested he hated every single moment of his job.

Patti’s head twisted around and she beamed up at him. “Ready?”

Not in the slightest, but he bobbed his head anyway. “Absolutely. Lead the way.”

Unlike the races he’d attended in the past, the stands weren’t overly packed. There were bodies sprinkled around the bleachers overlooking the strip of pavement below, but there were wide-open spaces available, making it look as though it were on the verge of being empty.

“Drag racing isn’t as big as NASCAR or Indy, but they still have a pretty strong fan base,” Patti explained as they made their way down.

He didn’t need the explanation. Jon knew everything there was to know about the sport, but he kept his lips sealed.

His anxiety crept higher with each step they took. By the time Patti selected a row of empty benches, they were a mere three levels above where the action would take place.

“So,” Patti said as she settled in and crossed her legs. “What do you think? Are you surprised?”

Jon cast a look around. On the strip below were two paved lanes that extended from one end of the arena to the other. At the head sat two souped-up cars surrounded by various crewmembers responsible for the success of each race.

“It’s great.” Leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss against her lips. “Thank you.”

As he pulled away, he noticed the slight crease that had formed between her brows. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he assured her. Reaching up, he smoothed a finger over the tiny furrow. He knew she was picking up on his apprehension and that was the last thing he wanted to have happen.

“Sometimes I forget that not everyone gets as excited about cars as I do,” she continued, worry making her voice pitch a little higher.

“I like cars,” Jon returned.

“Well, duh,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Doesn’t every guy like cars?”

Jon lifted his shoulder. “I doubt that every guy does, but I definitely do.”

Patti turned to him with a serious expression on her face. “Jon, you drive a Ford.”

Jon leaned in. “Yes,” he agreed with an equally serious face. “But I used to drive a ’71 Dodge Challenger.”

A knowing smile stretched across his face at Patti’s sudden intake of breath. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you just got a hundred degrees hotter.”

Covering her knee with his hand, Jon let his palm smooth up her bare thigh. Pressing the side of his body against hers, he clasped her neck with his free hand, drawing her closer. His lips met hers in an open-mouth kiss and when their tongues touched, he released a moan from the surge of pleasure that shot straight to his crotch.

Breaking away before he took her right there, Jon licked the sweet taste of her strawberry lip balm from his lips. “I hope you don’t have any plans after this, because after that kiss I’m not letting you go any time soon.”

Patti’s response was drowned out by the sudden ear-splitting roar of two very powerful engines. Jon gave her knee a squeeze and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart as he turned his attention to the race below.

A pristine white Mustang with two thick, black racing stripes running down the center that harkened back to the eighties, rolled up alongside a mint condition Camaro painted a cherry red from the same era. Their engines purred as they aligned themselves with the starting line on the narrow drag strip. Between them, a tower of lights that resembled a Christmas tree flicked to yellow.

Heart hammering in his chest, Jon braced himself.

As a kid, he’d always been a fan of anything having to do with cars. He had an extensive collection of Matchbox, which later grew to include Hot Wheels, until the day he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his dad had surprised him with a sweet ’82 Firebird for his sixteenth birthday. His mother hadn’t been too thrilled about it, convinced that he’d wreck it the minute he set tire to pavement, but he’d surprised them all by lasting a whole four and a half months before wrapping it around a median.

Undeterred, he’d saved up enough money working odd jobs all over town to purchase the Charger. Soon thereafter, he’d developed a love of speed along with other boys his age, and to feed their appetites, they’d pooled their time and resources into putting together a makeshift track that used to serve as a horse run up at an old abandoned farm. It was in the middle of nowhere, so they never had to worry about the cops showing up unexpectedly, but in the end, that had ended up being their downfall.

Despite the sickening feeling drawn up by his past, Jon couldn’t deny the spark of intrigue he felt niggling at the base of his brain. The deep growl of the engines made his chest tight and the smell of burning rubber that hung in the air was a seductive tease to his senses. It was appalling and alluring all at once—the last things Jon ever wanted to feel again.

Deep down, Jon knew his feeling about the race, and cars, and everything that the two entailed stemmed from the bone-deep fear that had settled in long ago. He’d been reckless then, and he’d built a wall to prevent himself from repeating past mistakes, but he always knew it would just be a matter of time before he’d be forced to face it. He’d just hoped like hell that day would never come.

Now that he found himself sitting there, a beautiful woman on his arm who wore a smile so big it was damn near painful to witness, Jon felt torn.

Ahead, the lights flicked down. When the green light flared, the cars’ tires screamed, kicking up large plumes of white smoke. Then they shot off down the track. Jon’s jaw clenched.

On the one hand, Jon knew the reason for the gut-wrenching fear and guilt assailing him as the cars sped by was left over from the past that he’d tried to bury and forget. Clearly, that hadn’t worked out so well. On the other hand, Jon wanted nothing more than to keep that illuminating, excitement-filled smile on Patti’s face.

As he stared at her profile, taking in the gentle slope of her nose, the roundness of her cheeks, the curve of her lips as they turned up at the corners, and how they shifted with each new expression, he realized with sudden clarity that his fear had nothing to do with the cars or the speed. It had everything to do with the damage he’d sustained to his mind and soul that night.

He’d made himself into a victim. That’s what everyone had told him, but he was only now realizing it. He’d set aside everything that had ever held his interest. He’d cleaved away the one thing he’d ever truly been passionate about like a rotten limb. The severance had left a hollow place inside of him where the painful memories echoed like hungry ghosts.

No more.

Watching Patti now, her passion bleeding through in her every move and shout of joy, Jon knew the only way to enjoy life was by living it.

He hadn’t lived life for more than five years.

Maybe his mother was right. Maybe the time for punishing himself was over. Maybe he needed to look toward the future and stop living in the past. What was it doing for him anyway, besides giving him an ulcer?

Jon made a pact with himself at that moment and there to put aside the past and make the best of it. Patti had gone out of her way to surprise him, and he appreciated the effort. Besides, it was clear to him that this was something that made her happy, and he wasn’t about to do anything that would put a damper on their date.

He’d been lucky to find someone like her. Someone who enjoyed the same things he did. To share something you love with another person, someone you welcomed spending your time with, connected with on a deeper level, was special. He wouldn’t take it for granted, and he’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers.