Fearless Maverick by Robyn Grady Read Free Book Online Page B

was or he wasn’t. Nor did it excuse that forceful
tone.
                 Regardless,
the bottom line was that she’d taken on this case, which meant she would give
it her all and then some, whether Alex Wolfe appreciated her own brand of
zealousness or not. If he decided their relationship wasn’t working, he could
sack her, but she wasn’t about to quit, or double guess herself at every turn.
He’d thought enough of her credentials to hire her in the first place after
all.
                 ‘Alex,
I appreciate your … enthusiasm, but I’m going to ask you to leave the program
to me.’
                 ‘Just
as long as we’re in tune with what I need.’
                 What I expect, he should have said.
                 Her
smile was thin. ‘I know precisely what you need.’
                 His
gaze pierced hers and she thought he might push his point to make himself
clear. The simmering in his eyes said he would miss not one more race than he
thought he had to. Every round he didn’t drive took him further away from the
means to retain his title, and anyone who tried to stop him was public enemy
number one.
                 But
then the thrust of his shadowed jaw eased, his trademark grin returned and he
added in a placated tone, ‘Pleased to know we’re on the same page.’
                 They
continued to work out with similar isometrics. After thirty minutes, she caught
him flinching so she called an end to their first session.
                 ‘That’ll
do for today,’ she said, heading off to collect her bag.
                 He
was standing, hands threaded behind to allow a gentle stretch between the
blades. With his brow damp from rehabilitative work his body wasn’t used to, he
joined her. ‘So you’re leaving?’
                 ‘I
have other appointments.’
                 She
was sure he wouldn’t be lonely. He must have acquaintances in Sydney he could
catch up with. No doubt many wore skirts.
                 While
she found her car keys, he eased into his shirt. Leaving it unbuttoned—an
unabashed encore, she supposed—he escorted her out of the gym. Halfway down the
long northern hall, that enormous storage block, visible beyond a set of
soaring windows, caught her eye.
                 Curious,
she slowed up. ‘What do you keep out there?’
                 ‘Three
guesses.’
                 She
only needed one. ‘Cars.’
                 He
laughed and the deep, easy sound—as warm as a blanket on a cold night—made her
forget what a privileged pain in the butt he could be at times.
                 ‘Come
and have a look,’ he said. When she opened her mouth to object, he broke in. ‘Surely
you can spare five minutes.’
                 Libby
thought it over. Her next appointment wasn’t for an hour, and she was intrigued
as to how many and what types of cars a motor racing champion owned. She knew
Payton would be interested to hear.
                 Relenting,
and more than a little excited, she nodded. ‘Five minutes.’
                 His
grey eyes smiled, but in a different way—as if he truly appreciated her
interest—and together they walked out the house, past the magazine lift-out
pool and over the immaculate emerald-green lawn.
                 ‘Where
did it all start,’ she asked, ‘this love affair with cars and speed?’
                 ‘My
father owned prestige automobiles, everything from vintage classics to
top-of-the-range sports cars. Every now and then I’d take one out.’
                 ‘He
must have trusted you a great deal.’
                 ‘Oh,
I didn’t ask. I became quite well known throughout Oxfordshire for my jaunts.’
                 ‘Known
to the authorities?’ He only grinned, his gaze distant