Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
We continued with our lunch, talking about the highlights of last season. At one point, I asked Marlee if she'd been to any races, and though she answered in the negative, there was something that made me disbelieve her. I didn't push. There was something strange about Marlee Lawson. Something almost familiar, but something not quite right. I wasn't a paranoid person, but a crazy idea crossed my mind that she could be posing as an interviewer to try to get inside information for a competitor. She did know an unusual amount about racing.
My phone buzzed, and I used the incoming call as an opportunity to excuse myself from the table. As I walked away, I ignored the call and instead brought up the website for Marlee's magazine. Out of view from the main dining room, I scrolled down the list of staff writers until I found Marlee's name. Okay, that checks out. But—wait a minute. That was clearly not her picture next to her name. Marlee was a Hispanic woman with tan skin and straight black hair. This was not Marlee.
I scrolled further down the page, not really paying attention, and trying to make sense of what was going on, when a name caught my eye. And then a picture. Red hair, but pulled back. Beautiful eyes. Serious expression. Kayla Brewster.
Holy shit. Kayla.
CHAPTER 4
STUMBLE
KAYLA
I was so relieved when Axel left the table. I exhaled, long and deep, and let my shoulders slump for a second. This was way harder than I thought it'd be. I had so many conflicting thoughts and emotions, and it was real work to keep my focus on the job at hand.
Axel was beautiful. I'd seen him online and on TV. I knew he was attractive, but to see him in person was something else. The gorgeous face I'd always loved was now all grown up. He'd always seemed grown up, since he was a few years older than me. But I saw that he'd been a boy then; now he was all man. Tall, broad shouldered, hard muscled, with knowing eyes. And he definitely was acting like the jerk I had expected him to be. Wow, he was full of himself.
But when I saw his beautifully crooked nose, never the same after that dirt bike accident years ago, I had to struggle to keep my cool. I wanted to run my finger over his perfect yet imperfect nose, right down to his full, sensual lips.
I kept reminding myself that he was all player and I needed a hard shell to get through our interview. It was fairly easy to deflect his come-ons. The flirting reminded me of who he was now; he was a playboy, and I had no interest in being one of his throwaway conquests.
But when he asked me to go for a drive and I refused, a hurt expression passed over his face that brought the old Axel back to me. When we were kids, I would've done anything he asked me to, and when I saw his disappointed face today, I had that same old feeling and couldn't resist his request.
I needed to take advantage of his time away from me to pull myself back together. All I needed to do was go for a drive, see his house, write a great interview, and then be free of his hold on me forever. I could do it.
Axel returned to the table after what seemed like a long time, though it might have only been a minute. I was honestly too flustered to keep track.
He insisted on paying our bill, even though I explained that it would be expensed to the magazine. His gentlemanly behavior continued as he held the door open for me leaving the restaurant, and gently touched my elbow as he escorted me to his car.
I was very aware of his gaze on me, usually on my face, quite often slipping down to my cleavage. My wardrobe choices had obviously had the intended effect, though I found myself regretting them a bit. I was gratified by his attention, but at the same time, his flirtatious behavior was making it hard for me to breathe, and hard for me to think straight. This is what I had dreamed about all those years ago: catching Axel's attention, having him look at me like I was someone he desired, having him shower me with special attention. While I was flattered and thrilled by his interest in me, I reminded myself that he very likely treated all women this way—as objects—and his flirty, forward ways were evidenced by his endless parade of arm candy. He was a player, all the way.
His car was exactly what I expected. Black, expensive and fast-looking.
"Sorry for the ride," he said, as he opened the passenger door for me. "This is a rental. Most of my cars are nicer than this."