He should be practising, talking,breathingcars. But he was now sitting on the sidelines.
Taz pulled his aviator sunglasses onto his face and jogged down the plane’s steps to the waiting SUV. The driver opened the door, and he pulled back on seeing Millie sitting in the far corner, her face pale. She wore a brightly coloured patterned sleeveless sundress that hugged her curves. Her hair, as usual, was piled up on her head, and she’d smudged her eyeliner and mascara. She looked…beautiful.
And therein lay his other problem. For the last two weeks, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about their kiss, wishing that it had lasted longer, that he’d pushed for more. Her mouth had been sweet, her hair soft. Her perfume was light, and her fingers on his jaw and her hands on his body had felt so damn right.
He rubbed his hand over his jaw, thinking that recently Millie had come into proper focus for him. Oh, he’d been attracted to her from the moment he met her—he was a sucker for the combination of blue eyes and reddish-gold hair—but because of that and because she worked for him, he’d thrown up more shields than he usually did.
With Millie, lust and work collided, and it was as frustrating as hell. He wanted her, and that night, after one of the worst days in a long, long time, he’d lowered his control and given in to the temptation of kissing her. It had been better than he’d imagined, and he had a damn good imagination. He shook his head at his wayward thoughts as he climbed into the car. She worked for him and was off-limits.
‘Millie? I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said, shutting the door. He wondered when last she’d had a decent night’s sleep. She looked…stressed. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Oh, I’m peachy,’ she muttered. She glared at him. ‘Could you not have stayed out of trouble for a couple of weeks, Taz?’
He was a grown man, someone who owned and operated a racing team and all its subsidiaries, a company worth billions. Nobody told him what to do or how to act. Especially someone whose salary he covered. Despite that, he enjoyed her annoyance, liked the way it pushed colour into her cheeks and the light of battle in her eyes. He knew she preferred negotiating to arguing, so he admired her attempt to venture out of her comfort zone.
‘Lie low, I said. It wasn’t that big an ask!’
Right, she’d run out of rope.
‘Check your tone, Millie,’ he suggested, keeping his voice low. He raised the privacy screen between them and the driver. ‘Would you like to tell me—calmly—why you are angry?’
‘You went to Lily’s last night.’ She pushed her iPad into his hands.
He didn’t bother to look down. ‘So?’
‘The bad press was finally beginning to die down, but your partying at Lily’s last night has the press once again questioning your sincerity. There are over a dozen stories today, all insinuating that you aren’t sorry, that having a good time is more important to you than racing and that you’re not taking your career seriously.’
Racing was the only thing that meant anything to him. Taz ran his hand through his hair, his back teeth grinding. He wanted to justify his actions, something he never did. ‘You told me to go out!’
‘I meant for you to go for coffee or visit a friend! I did not say that you should go to Gossip Central!’
He struggled to hold on to his temper, knowing he wouldn’t bother if this was anyone other than Millie. What was it about this woman that had him checking his words and reining in his temper? Why her? And why, for God’s sake, now?
‘I got to Lily’s shortly after eleven. I’d been working, and I couldn’t sleep. So I went out. I went into the VIP section where I had two whiskies and then left.’
‘Phoebe was there.’
Taz clenched his uninjured hand.
‘She’s quoted as saying that you’ve lost your interest in racing and that you have a temper. And she’s seen you lose it. She tossed gas on the already-fiery press reports.’
Taz gripped the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. He couldnotcatch a break. After last night’s hopefully final last rejection, he could see Phoebe lashing out. But insinuating he’d lost his temper with her? That was low.
Would this drama ever end? And why did he feel so unbalanced? Was it because he wanted Millie to believe he was better than he was portrayed? And why was he worried about what she thought?
She was nothing like his usual women; she was grounded and down to earth. Impatient with nonsense. He liked her. More than he liked most people. But this conversation proved that she, like everyone else, couldn’t see him clearly. Perhaps her astute observation back in China that there was nothing between him and Meredith had been a fluke.
He felt irrationally disappointed.
‘Look, I know it’s nonsense, but the world doesn’t.’
Her words doused the fire under his temper, and a measure of calm returned.
‘I’ll admit I’m impatient when things don’t go my way or when my orders are not followed. But I have never, ever lost my temper with a woman.’ He never cared enough to expend that amount of energy. He nodded at her iPad, resentful at having to explain. ‘I ended it, permanently, at the beginning of the season. She’s now stirring the pot, unhappy because I rejected her again last night.’
‘She wants you back?’
He lifted one shoulder and shrugged. ‘Phoebe doesn’t take no for an answer. Last night’snowas final and emphatic. She understood that, was angry and wanted her revenge.’ Last night he couldn’t help comparing Phoebe to Millie, and the ex-model came up very short. How? He didn’t know. He couldn’t define his attraction to Millie, but it didn’t make it less potent.
