9

Mira quietly shut the door and leaned back against it. Will was pacing the tight confines of his dressing room like an animal in a cage, his hands fisted into his hair.

“Fuck!” he roared again and slammed his hand against the chair, sending it clattering into the counter.

“Will, you need to lower your voice,” she said evenly. “They can hear you out there.”

“That was bullshit!” Will shouted, stabbing a finger in the direction of the studio. His eyes were wide, and his jaw was tight with fury. “It was New Year’s Eve. I had one bloody pint and those girls asked me for a picture. Before I knew what was happening—”

“It’s okay.”

“—it’s not like I downed a goddamned bottle of scotch—”

“I know.”

“—and I’ve barely had more than a glass of fucking wine since then.”

“Will, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Just like that, the anger seemed to drain out of him. His eyes went flat and he slumped back on the dressing room counter. He dropped his face into his hands. “Okay?” he muttered. “In two minutes one trashy journalist made me look like I’m just the same fuckup I’ve always been. Like the last three years didn’t even happen.”

A pang of empathy flared through her. She knew a thing or two about feeling like a fuckup. “I’m sorry.”

He lifted his head, looking tired and utterly defeated. “It doesn’t even matter. I mean, fuck it. They’re all desperate to make me out to be the same immature screwup from three years ago. It’s just hard to live things down sometimes, no matter how hard you try. So Pippa fucking Hobbyhorse thinks I’m a joke. So does everybody else. The press, the entire sport of racing, you .”

“Hey.” Maybe it was because the time she’d spent around him today had lowered her guard, or maybe it was just seeing him being so hard on himself, but she couldn’t keep her distance from him when he was in this state. She crossed to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Plenty of people believe in you. You wouldn’t be here if they didn’t.”

He scoffed, so she pressed on.

“Everybody who saw you race in Formula E last season knows you have what it takes. Everybody on this team. My dad. Me.”

Finally he turned his face to look at her. “You?” he said with a short, mirthless laugh. “When did lying to talent become your job?”

She shook his shoulders a little, or at least as much as that rock-hard body could be shaken. “Seriously, listen to me. I’ve been at every one of your simulator sessions. You’re working harder than anybody I know. And you’ve got the most talent.”

Will let out a long exhale, staring off into space like he was trying to believe everything she was telling him.

“Don’t let her get to you,” she said softly.

Then he was quiet, staring at her. And that’s when she realized that her hands were still on his shoulders and his had found their way to her hips. And that she was nearly standing between his splayed legs, with less than a foot between them. She could see it in his eyes, the moment he realized it too.

Suddenly she was painfully aware of every tiny detail of him. His dark blue eyes, slightly shadowed under his heavy dark brows. His eyelashes that looked tipped with amber in the diffuse glow from the lights surrounding the mirror behind him. His high cheekbones sloping down to the hard line of his jaw.

His fingers tightened on her hips, and her body responded without her brain’s input. Somehow she moved closer, standing between his thighs now. Her fingers had dug in, too, she realized, gripping his shoulders. His nearness, the ferocious intensity of his gaze on her face, made her throat and chest tight. And parts much lower, too. She licked her lips and his eyes finally left hers, dropping swiftly to her mouth and back up.

And then his face was drawing closer, never breaking the look, even as his head tilted, even as hers did. He was going to kiss her. She knew it and yet she couldn’t bring herself to do anything that might stop him. He exhaled and she could feel his warm breath wash across her mouth. His hand slid up her back, his broad palm coming up to cup her neck, to hold her in place as he—

“Okay, sorted,” Violet said briskly as she burst into the room. Her eyes were on her tablet so she missed Mira scrambling away from Will like he was on fire.

“I had a chat with Pippa’s producer—” Violet continued, as Mira inhaled deeply and tried to clear the fog cluttering her brain. What the fuck had just happened? Or almost happened? “—and I let it be known that if Pippa insisted on running her bullshit party boy story, their network was going to find their access to any and all Lennox events strictly curtailed. I think she’ll choose wisely.”

She finally looked up, eyes darting from Will to Mira and back again. “Everything okay?”

Okay? Okay? She’d just nearly kissed Will. He’d nearly kissed her. They’d both been absolutely about to kiss each other.

She chanced a glance at Will, but looking at him, you’d never have known that thirty seconds ago his mouth had nearly been on hers. He blew out a breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s fine, Violet. Let them say what they’re going to say. I can’t stop them.”

Mira’s heart was still trying to beat its way out of her chest, but Will seemed perfectly at ease.

Hands on her hips, Violet glared at him. “No, you can’t. But I can. I have to try, anyway. It’s my job.”

He gave her a weak smile. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with an overly saccharine tone. “So, are we done here?”

“Yes, please,” he pleaded. “Let’s get out of here.”

Finally Mira found her voice, amazed to hear herself sounding so normal. “No, we can’t. There are more interviews.”

Violet glanced at her tablet. “Six more, to be exact.”

Will looked pained. “Violet …”

“Hey, this is how you properly thank me for covering your ass back there. Get in there and behave yourself.”

He groaned. “Got it.”

“And smile,” she said, turning and heading back out to the soundstage. “The ladies love you when you smile.”

Mira gathered up the rest of her scattered wits and started to follow Violet out of the room. She heard him sigh behind her, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

He was upset, that was all. She’d been there in front of him in a vulnerable moment and he’d … well, they’d … well, something almost happened that shouldn’t have happened. But the important thing was, it hadn’t happened. So they could carry on just as before. One thirty-second aberration wasn’t the end of the world. Soon they’d be on the road, on the racing circuit, and Will was sure to forget all about it, and her. And by then, maybe she’d have figured out how to forget about it, too.