Second driver on the team had been a young man with laughing eyes and film star looks.
‘Jared will be a fine driver when his time comes,’ Warrior loftily declared. ‘He just needs to be a little patient.’
Jared, overhearing, grinned and winked at Kaye. In the race he came within an inch of defeating Warrior, who emerged from his car pale and ill-tempered.
‘He’s not going to forgive you for that,’ Kaye murmured as they all got ready to leave the track.
Jared chuckled. ‘Wait until the next race. Maybe I can give him something else not to forgive. Bye!’
He blew her a kiss and hurried away to join the glamorous model who was waiting for him, which gave Kaye a stab of jealousy. Her own looks were pretty enough, but she knew she couldn’t attract a man who could take his pick from a wide choice.
For a few weeks she watched Jared’s progress through the races, which he won-to Warrior’s ill-concealed fury-and through a few colourful explosions in the tabloids featuring various curvaceous companions.
She sometimes met him briefly in England, between races. He would recognise her from a distance, wave and be gone. Once he bought her a cup of tea in the firm’s canteen and she enjoyed a few dazzling minutes with him, only slightly spoiled when he addressed her by the wrong name.
Clearly she just didn’t have the ‘something’ that made a girl stand out from the crowd. If only she was more rounded.
‘Much too thin,’ she told her reflection in the wardrobe.
‘You count your blessings,’ her grandmother said, just behind her. ‘There’s many a plump girl would say you were lucky.’
Her mother’s parents had raised her since her own parents had died in a road accident eight years before. Their relationship was affectionate, with no more than the normal inter- generational exasperation on both sides.
‘You can wear those tight jeans, which is more than most of them can,’ Gran observed helpfully.
‘Only ’cos I’m shaped like a boy,’ Kaye said in disgust. ‘No ins, no outs, no nothing!’
‘Good. It’ll help you stay out of mischief.’
One by one Jared’s victories mounted: Turkey, Italy, Belgium, Brazil. Between races the press pursued him intently, attracted by the stream of lovelies in his company. One in particular alerted them. Mirella, a model as famed for her colourful life as for her beauty, appeared on his arm more than any other. There were quarrels, reconciliations, even talk of marriage-all of it featured in the headlines. When he won the Japanese Grand Prix, inches ahead of Warrior, Mirella was there to greet him in the pits.
Returning to England, Warrior went into a sulk which ended in him storming into the office one evening as Kaye was about to leave, having worked late. She indicated that Duncan, her boss, was still there, and Warrior headed for Duncan’s office, slamming the door behind him.
At once voices were raised and she listened, fascinated, to the ensuing row. It might be shocking to eavesdrop, but how often could you get entertainment this good?
At last, reluctantly, she headed for the exit, colliding with someone she hadn’t noticed before.
‘Sorry,’ Jared said, steadying her.
‘How long have you been there?’
‘Just a few minutes. I was going to talk to Duncan but-’ he made a face ‘-perhaps another time.’
‘Warrior’s really mad at you for overtaking him when you did,’ she said softly.
‘It was a race. I’m supposed to overtake.’
‘But he’s the number one driver, so you should have let him stay ahead.’
‘In his dreams. Oh, Lord, they’re coming out. Quick!’
He grabbed her hand, whisking her away before she could protest. Not that she wanted to protest. Now she was with him again she knew how she’d longed for this.
The two men emerged and headed for the elevator. Neither of them saw Jared and Kaye, keeping well back.
‘You’re not doing anything tonight, are you?’ he asked when they were safely alone.
It was more an arrogant statement than a question. If he wanted her, how could she possibly be doing anything else? But she was too dazzled by him to see anything wrong with that.
‘Not a thing,’ she assured him.
‘Then let’s get out of here fast.’
She went with him eagerly, terrified lest anything happened to change his mind. A small bar had recently opened across the street, and they took refuge there.
‘Thank heavens I didn’t walk into a scene!’ he said thankfully when they were settled.
‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid.’
‘Of scenes? Sure. I avoid them like the plague.’
‘And they call you the bravest man on the track,’ she teased.
‘Ah, on the track! That’s different. Crashing at two hundred miles an hour, no problem. But raised voices and agitation-’ He shuddered. ‘I just run for it.’
‘You weren’t expected for a day or two,’ she said. ‘We all thought you’d be kept fully occupied by-er-’ She was carefully avoiding Mirella’s name.
‘All right, all right,’ he said, understanding perfectly and grinning. ‘I made a hasty exit. Can we leave it?’
She burst out laughing and his grin became more relaxed.
‘I’m a coward there too,’ he admitted. ‘In fact I’m just a disreputable character, and I can’t think why anyone bothers with me.’
‘Neither can I,’ she declared solemnly. ‘From where I’m sitting, you have absolutely nothing going for you.’
‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘Women turn away from me, and somehow I just have to endure it.’
He was twenty-four, with the lean figure of an athlete and looks that retained the barest hint of boyishness. His dark brown eyes seemed to contain mysterious depths, even when they gleamed with fun, as they did now. Female rejection was something he would never experience and they both knew it.
He was wry, funny, ridiculous, self-mocking, and-most charming of all-he seemed to give her all his attention. Common sense warned her that it meant nothing, was merely something he did with everyone, especially women. But she firmly silenced common sense. Who needed it?
They chatted easily. It was the talk of friends, not lovers, but she was happy. When their eyes met in amused understanding she had a sweet sensation that should have warned her of danger. But she only realised that later. Much, much later. When it was far too late.
‘Driving my first racing car was like reaching heaven,’ he recalled. ‘I was free. I could do what I liked. Mind you, what I liked was usually stupid, and there was trouble afterwards, but it was worth it. I knew I had to drive cars for a living, one way or another.’
‘You could have become a taxi driver,’ she told him, straight-faced.
