Craving Her Enemy's Touch

‘I hadn’t expected so many,’ he said sternly as she came to stand at his side. He should have warned her. Escaping the intrusion of the press had been her reason for retreating from the racing world and now she was in the thick of it again. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think to tell you they’d be here.’

‘I expected it.’ She smiled up at him, then faced the cameras as photographers shouted at them. ‘Just not so many.’

He put his arm around her, pulling her close, feeling only a slight resistance as she continued to pose for the media. Seb had told him she was the best, knew just how to work the press to the team’s advantage and, despite his doubts, he saw immediately this was true. But she was smiling and posing under duress and a tinge of guilt slipped over him.

The tension in her body increased and he turned her away from the press, heading into the hotel. All around, people chatted, sipping the champagne being circulated, but as they entered a hush fell on the room. Beside him, Charlie drew in a deep breath, straightened and as he looked across at her he saw a smile light up her face.

‘I had not anticipated such a turnout.’ He spoke softly, for her ears only. ‘It seems you have many people wishing to meet you.’

‘My presence here is a way of absolving you of any wrongdoing...in the eyes of the media and public, that is.’ She whispered the words with her smile still in place and he suddenly saw how she must be feeling, how this whole evening must be for her.

‘That was not my intention.’ He placed his hand against her back, felt the heat and tried to ignore it.

‘No, I don’t think it was.’ She looked up at him and, despite the smile on her lips, he knew that inside she was hurting. He could see it in her eyes and wanted to protect her from it.

She turned her attention to those around them, her smile easing the tension in the room, and a hum of conversation gradually started again. He took two flutes of champagne, handed her one and moved into the room, aware that every man there was looking at her with admiration.

A stab of jealousy spiked him, but instantly he dismissed it. She wasn’t his and never could be. His urge to protect her and keep her at his side was thwarted as they were engaged in conversation before being separated.

Even though she was on the other side of the room, deep in conversation with several Italian racing drivers, he was aware of her. Each time she laughed, the gentle sound rippled through the air and he had to defuse the heady pulse of passion or he’d be in danger of dragging her away and doing just what his body demanded.

He made his welcome speech, repeating it in English for her benefit, but he couldn’t look at her because if he did he wouldn’t be able to stay here in front of everyone and remain calm. His prepared lines became jumbled and he improvised. Something he’d never had to do before.

‘Now, to the moment everyone is waiting for,’ he said as the doors of the hotel courtyard were folded back to reveal the shape of his car beneath a black cloth. Appreciative sounds came from those around him but, instead of giving the signal to pull off the cloth, he turned back to the audience.

Charlie looked up at him as he stood on the presentation stage, questions in her eyes, but he continued with his original plan.

‘I’d like to introduce, for those who don’t know her, Charlotte Warrington, sister of the late and very much missed Sebastian Warrington, who played a big part in developing this car.’

He turned, ignoring the need to look at her again, and gave the signal to reveal the car. Delighted sounds and applause came from everyone as the brilliant red of the car sparkled beneath the lights.

Finally he looked towards Charlie. She was slowly making her way towards the car, the red of her dress a perfect match for its gleaming paintwork, but the expression on her face sent alarm bells ringing. The smile she’d hidden behind from the moment she’d arrived in front of the cameras was gone. In its place was an expression of sadness that stilled the applause.

He stepped down and briskly made his way over to her, the audience parting ahead of him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to offer her support, and he cursed the fact that she’d only seen the plain grey test car until now.

‘Charlotte?’

Slowly she turned to look at him. ‘It’s beautiful, Sandro.’ The fact that she’d shortened his name didn’t go unnoticed. All her barriers were down; she was exposed, vulnerable, and it was because of his carelessness.

‘You were meant to see it yesterday afternoon.’ She looked up at him, her eyes greener than he’d ever seen them. He didn’t need to add that their test track kiss had thrown all his plans into disarray. Her expression and hint of a blush told him she knew why.