Maybe it was that she seemed to know exactly who she was and was completely comfortable in her own skin, which he found very hot. Even now, coming face-to-face with a man she had briefly met in a fetish club, she didn’t look particularly uneasy. She stood up and stuck her hand out, clearly in her element in her own office.
“Maybe we should formally meet, even though you clearly know who I am.”
He moved forward and took the offered hand, keeping it longer than was strictly appropriate. “Rhett Ford.”
“Shawn Hamby. Sorry I didn’t believe your name was Rhett. I thought you were being coy.”
“I’m not cheesy by intention. Just cheesy by birth.” He finally let her hand go when she gave it a pointed look. “My mom was living out some fantasy, and I pay the price every day.”
“I bet it makes you lucky with the ladies.”
Oh, that was just too good of an opening. “Not yet today. But there’s still time.”
She rolled her eyes. “So is it true? You’re driving a Monroe car in the Modifieds this season?”
“Yes. I believe I am on your schedule here at Hamby Speedway.” Rhett gestured for her to sit down, himself taking the seat in front of her desk. “Ironic, isn’t it? That we would meet where we did.”
“I suppose it is.” She tightened the bun on top of her head, making it lopsided. “I am looking forward to the season. I’m planning a big media blitz, and if you’re interested, I’d love for you to play a big part in that. I think your story will get a fair amount of attention.”
“My story?” He wasn’t aware that he had a story, nor did he really want to talk about one. He was there to ask her out, not talk racing.
“Yes. Your decision to leave one Monroe crew to join another, and to start racing yourself. That’s all a bit nuts in the world of racing, you know.”
He knew that. He’d heard it from just about everyone he knew in the business. “Yeah, well, I don’t see any point in staying somewhere I’m not completely happy. Guys compete for those pit crew positions and it wasn’t fair for me to be taking it.”
“You didn’t like it? Yet you’re not leaving being on a crew.”
Rhett noted the way she moved constantly, fidgeting in her seat, her hands always fluttering, running over papers on her desk, up to her necklace, on to her hair. The more still he was in his chair, the more she seemed to move. “I guess I like things a little more down and dirty, a little more real. Without the big money and the engineers.”
It was true. He liked the grit of dirt track racing. The money sucked, which was why he was still running a crew for Eve Monroe. But it wasn’t about the money, it was about besting himself out there. The pure competitiveness. It was like fencing versus ultimate fighting. Both required major skill, but he preferred it raw.
No shocker there.
“I wouldn’t mind a little money either,” she said, laughing nervously. “But I get what you mean. I like the passion of dirt track myself. You have to love it to be in it.” Then she tilted her head. “I mean, of course, those in the cup series love it, too, I don’t mean that. And I don’t mean that they, or me, are moneygrubbing or anything. It’s just that money is necessary when you’re dealing with such expensive tracks and cars and marketing. But it’s not like they don’t deserve it. Or that dirt track drivers and owners don’t deserve it, too. It’s just a different thing, but both have their place and no one is better than the other.”
Rhett let her babble on, waiting until she petered out. She was cute when she was trying not to offend. “You don’t need to be politically correct with me, Shawn. There’s enough of that bullshit in this world. I knew what you meant.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. Her cheeks bloomed with color. “So, uh, how can I help you?”
He gave her a slow smile, enjoying more and more the reaction she was giving him. He made her nervous, not because he thought she was an anxious person, but because she was attracted to him the way he was to her. It gave him clear encouragement to tell her exactly why he was there.
“I came to ask you out. Dinner or a drink, or both, your call. Eve said you didn’t say yes, but you didn’t say no, so I figured the door was open enough for me to wedge a boot into it and plead my case.”
“I don’t think I should,” she said immediately. “I mean, you’re Eve’s brother-in-law, and I own the track, which is potentially a conflict of interest, and you’re younger than me. It’s just not a good idea. At all. It’s a very bad idea, actually.”
“Then we won’t call it a date. We’ll just call it two people having a drink. Come on, let’s go.” Rhett stood up.
“What, like right now?” she asked in astonishment. “But . . .”
“But what? It’s almost seven o’clock. You can’t still be working. If you are, you shouldn’t be.” He liked that she looked confused and disarmed. It would work to his advantage. She wouldn’t be able to formulate an excuse fast enough.
“I’ve had a really terrible day,” she said, hand going up to pat the back of her bun nervously.
“Even more reason to get out of here.” Rhett came around the desk, amused when she backed her rolling chair up so quickly it hit the wall. He reached out and took her hand into his. “Beer or wine?”
“Beer,” she said without hesitation.
It didn’t surprise him. And it pleased him. Both that she had understood what he was asking, and that she was the kind of woman who preferred a bottle to a glass.
“I probably shouldn’t, but you know what? I don’t give a shit,” Shawn said, standing up. “Today was like ass on an ass cracker, and I deserve a drink.”
He wasn’t really sure what an ass cracker was, but it didn’t sound like anything he wanted to be served.
“That’s the spirit.” Whereas Shawn would have dropped his hand immediately, Rhett held it firmly in his so she couldn’t break contact. “I’m sorry you had a lousy day. Care to talk about it?”
“Not yet. Maybe after a few beers.” Shawn shook her head at him and smiled. “You may find yourself sorry you asked me that question. In fact, you may be sorry you walked in this door.”
She gave another tug on her hand as she grabbed her coat and they moved out of her office into the cold dark hall. But when Rhett refused to relinquish his grip, she seemed to accept it. He had to admit, it turned him on. He liked that she had opinions, that she protested, but then gave in to him. It made the moment of capitulation all that more intriguing to him, all that much more arousing. He didn’t know her well enough to guess how any of this would translate to the bedroom, but he was definitely interested in finding out. His gut told him he had met the woman who could keep up with him and give him exactly what he wanted.