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Violet was suddenly thrust into the spotlight and was thankful she’d been sitting. She sat up straight and nodded, trying to ignore the ten extra sets of eyes on her.
“From my perspective, everything seemed sublime,” she said, trying not to sound foolish.
Franco lifted his finger again to tap his head, a fresh gesture between them. He then turned back to the group and continued his assessment of the lap run.
His enthusiasm was certainly inspiring. It made her admire not only his ability to lead and encourage but it also made her think about her own career and her own passions. Everything had gone downhill ever since Senior Rights had been obliterated. She needed something, a spark, to bring that feeling of nervous excitement that she once thrived on so eagerly.
Franco had finished his talk, and everyone dispersed. The pit crew went to the car to discuss the issue with the turns while Cornel and the other mechanics went to work. He turned to her sitting on the stool, then moved in closer than he ever had.
His body was like a mountain engulfing her smaller, tigress frame. He placed both hands on her shoulders as he spoke, his voice a low, tranquil hum.
“What did you really think?”
Violet’s tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she quickly shot it back in. She was feeling playful and sarcastic, as well as aroused from his sudden switch from avid racer to a potential dating partner.
“It was divine,” she said. “I don’t know as much as your crew members, of course, but it was certainly interesting. I’ve never been to a race before, so I learned a lot.”
Franco pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. Violet heard herself speaking, her voice a light lilt that she hadn’t heard in ages. It was both strange and wonderful.
“Divine, eh?” he quipped. “I have never heard a race described that way.”
Violet burst out laughing, one that was far more unconfined than she had planned.
“Well, you better get ready for a lot of things you’ve never heard and seen before.”
Her tone had sunk into the husky sensuality of a bedroom voice. She hadn’t planned it, but there it was, hanging out in the early morning light, only a single layer of fireproof lining in the way of their coming together.
Franco seemed to enjoy it, though. The grin he wore was ready to crack the strong jawline of his face. He let his hands fall to her sides, hovered, and then went to his fire suit.
In that moment, that split second, Violet thought he was going to touch her waist. She thought she might spontaneously combust if he did.
Instead, he abruptly unzipped the suit, puffs of humid air escaping like a faint mist. It wasn’t a ridiculously hot day, but the suit was certainly thick. He backed away and pulled it off in one slick motion, laying it out on a clear table beneath the monitors.
Beads of sweat continued to cascade down the back of his neck, his short hair glistening with a sprinkle of dampness. He spoke as he smoothed out the fire suit, the engineers having already begun their adjustments in the background of the garage.
“I am going to take a shower in the locker room, and then I have a press conference to attend, then a meeting with my sponsors. You are welcome to attend all or none if you prefer.”
Violet was shocked. It was barely nine in the morning, and he already had to jump through hoops with his team, the media, and the people who financed his race. Her brows furrowed.
“I thought you did one of those the other day?” she asked him plainly. “Wouldn’t your sponsors want you focusing on the race rather than all that?”
The smile on Franco’s face began to fade away. He wasn’t bothered or upset, but the obligation in his expression was tangible.
“It goes hand-in-hand with this kind of work. Hockey players, basketball players, baseball, and all kinds of athletes have to do it too. It’s in the contract to keep people interested.”
Franco had folded the fire suit neatly, returning to its original spot on the shelf next to his helmet. He did it all absent-mindedly and diligently, like a ritual he had performed a thousand times.
Violet’s mind traveled down the naughty road again, wondering what his particular fingers and hands could do when it came to the sensitive edges of her body.
She made herself speak to erase the tantalizing image.
“Does that … bother you?”
Franco chuckled, leaning up against the worktable where the monitors were lined up like they were at NASA. When he realized she was being sincere, the smile dropped away like a knight’s helmet visor slapping down.
“It’s not my cup of tea, but I know it’s necessary. You have to garner interest through marketing, and this is how it is marketed. Then with the sponsors, well, I need them to drive. So that’s necessary too.”
Violet didn’t want to feel like she was crossing a line, so she decided to shut up. She nodded and smiled at him, trying to reassure whatever doubt had poked its head up in his mind.
