Overheated

CHAPTER TWELVE

LARRY KNEW HE NEEDED TO GIVE Crystal some space. The question of whether to continue the relationship was easy from his side. She was a beautiful woman who made him happy, and he loved her.

From her side, it was considerably more complicated. Though he wasn’t anywhere near retirement at the moment, he’d certainly get there before she would. And he couldn’t give her children. Even if by some miracle of modern science, he could reverse the surgery, he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to become a new father at this stage. While he could still play catch, and do any other children’s physical activity, the same might not hold true in ten years.

“You look tense,” said Nash, handing Larry a cold can of beer as the sun set on Nash’s deck overlooking Myrtle Pond.

“I’m fine,” said Larry. He didn’t particularly want to get into a heart-to-heart with Nash.

They’d been working on the Victorian all day, and he’d been able to put everything else out of his mind. But now that work was stopped, he couldn’t help wondering about Crystal. Had she finished work for the day? Did she have the kids? Was Zane making a nuisance of himself? And how was Rufus?

Nash took a seat in one of the padded deck chairs, and Larry followed suit.

“I asked around about that Zane Crandell,” said Nash, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee.

Larry didn’t understand. “Asked around to whom?”

Nash shrugged, taking a sip of the beer. “Just some guys I know. He’s got a couple of assaults on his file in Atlanta.”

“You know Atlanta cops?”

Nash nodded. “Some. They were bar fights, nothing domestic. But the man doesn’t drink well.”

“I’d be surprised to learn he does anything well,” Larry put in. Zane had struck him as a loser with a capital L.

“Job as a night janitor. Low-rent apartment. A bit of a gambling issue, but nobody’s looking to break his kneecaps or anything.”

Larry gave a cold laugh. “Too bad.”

“He touched the sister?” asked Nash.

“She says not.”

“If he steps out of line, I can have somebody tune him up.”

Larry squinted at Nash. “Who exactly do you know in Atlanta?”

A shrewdness came into Nash’s eyes, something Larry didn’t remember seeing before.

“Just some guys, who know some guys.”

“I thought you said you were an architect.”

If Nash wasn’t an architect, he was the best fake Larry had ever met. He was an excellent builder, and facts and figures came out of his mouth in an almost encyclopedic manner. Larry recognized it, since he could do it himself.

Which gave him pause. Nash was one genius of an architect. And he’d chucked it all to run a bait shop?

“I am an architect,” said Nash.

“For who? The mob?”

Nash grinned. “Right. I’ve been running their office tower development division on the Eastern Seaboard.”

Okay, maybe not the mob. But there was something…

“Why’d you move to Myrtle Pond?” he tried.

Nash didn’t answer, his expression inscrutable.

Larry felt a shiver run up his spine. He bought some time by taking a chug of his rapidly warming beer. “With my IQ, I guess I should be smart enough to know when to shut up and stop asking questions.”

“Yeah. And especially as a researcher on the N-52 Isis project.”

Larry froze. “What did you say?”

Nash gave him a look that said that Larry knew perfectly well what he’d said. He’d just tossed out the name of a top secret satellite project that, maybe, fifty guys in the world knew Larry was involved in.

“NSA?” asked Larry, his eyes squinting down at the waning light. “The military?”

“No initials you’d recognize.”

“But, the good guys,” Larry confirmed.

“The good guys,” said Nash.

Then another unsettling thought hit Larry. “You’re not here because of me, are you?”

Nash laughed, tipping back his head. “No offense, Larry. But you’re nowhere near important enough for me to guard.”

“Any danger to Myrtle Pond?”

Nash polished off his beer, stood up and hit the deck lights. “No one’s going to find me here. Nobody’s even looking.”

Larry nodded, knowing that was as much information as he’d get, also knowing that was as much information as he wanted. If Nash knew Larry was working on the Isis project, he also knew Larry could be trusted; otherwise he wouldn’t have revealed even that much.

Nash grabbed a couple more beers from the cooler. “So, if you need this Zane jerk tuned up, you just let me know.”

Larry was sorely tempted. “Not the kind of solution I’m used to.”

Nash set an unopened beer on the table next to Larry. “Likely not the kind of problem you’re used to, either.”

Larry couldn’t disagree with that.

His mind snapped back to his other problem. “Let me ask you this.” It was obvious he could trust Nash. “If you cared about a woman, but the circumstances were all wrong, would you walk away?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the circumstances have never been right for me.”

“So, what do you do?”

“You walk away from the ones you care about.” Nash paused. “And sleep with the ones you don’t.”

“That’s depressing.”

“Isn’t it though?”

Larry popped the tab on his second beer. “You and I are complete opposites.” The last woman Larry had either cared about or slept with, he married.

“Which is why I can’t see you being wrong for anybody,” said Nash. “You’re a freakin’ Boy Scout.”

“If I were a Boy Scout, I’d have walked away from her already.” And that was the truth. It wasn’t that Larry didn’t know the right thing to do. He was simply too selfish to do it.

“Why?” Nash demanded.

“I’m too old.”

“Horseshit.”

“Eloquent argument.”

“You don’t have to be eloquent when you’re right.”

“She has her entire life ahead of her.”

“From what I could see, she wants to spend part of it with you.”

“And when I die?”

“Excuse me?”

“What happens to her when I die?”

Nash’s voice rose with incredulity. “Well, hopefully, she gets a fat life insurance settlement and can grieve in the South Pacific.”

Larry started to laugh. “You should practice what you preach, you know.”

“How am I not?”

“If you’re not afraid to leave a widow, then get into a relationship. Find a nice girl. Get married.”

“Like a nice girl would marry me.”

“Why not?”

Nash seemed to give it a moment’s thought. “Because I’d have to lie to her every minute of every day.”

Fair point. Larry supposed neither of them were particularly good husband material. He’d give Crystal some space, let her weigh the cons. Maybe she’d decide on her own to break things off. If she didn’t? Then, at some point he’d have to be a man about it.

CRYSTAL GAZED AT LARRY’S profile in the first-class cabin of the 757. He’d seemed more than willing to oblige when she’d suggested they leave for Pocono on Saturday morning instead of Friday night. It meant they’d miss some of the pre-race activities at the track, but it also meant that Jennifer and David would be with their grandmother the entire time Crystal was gone.

Crystal had had a long talk with Kenny about both her job and her apartment, so she was resting easy on those fronts. Though there did still remain the matter of William Chandler’s bequest.

Given that he’d paid for first-class tickets, and the fact that Larry owned an airplane and two houses, she was guessing he was used to dealing with money. His family, at least, must have a pile of it to be so heavily involved in NASCAR. He seemed like a good person to approach with the problem.

She turned in her roomy seat, addressing him across their shared table of pre-flight champagne and orange juice.

“So,” she began, trying to frame the situation into a couple of succinct sentences. “I’ve got this five million dollars.”

He turned. “Excuse me?”

“Five million,” she repeated with a nod of affirmation.

“And we were looking for an apartment on Roolan Street?”

“Well, I didn’t have the money then.”

“What? You knocked over a bank while I was away?”

“It’s Rufus’s money.”

“Oh.” Larry nodded. “Well, that explains it.”

“Quit messing around.”

He grinned. “Sorry. Tell me what you’re talking about.”

The flight attendant came by to remove their glasses as the plane lurched to a taxi, and the safety demonstration came on their screens.

Crystal gave Larry the rundown on the lawyer’s visit.

“You sure this is legit?” he asked after she’d finished.

“If it’s a scam, it’s pretty elaborate.”

“Did he ask you for any money?”

She gave Larry a look of disbelief. “I don’t have any money. But no, he didn’t ask for any money.”

“Well, did he give you any money?”

“It’s supposed to come next week.”

“You have a lawyer?”

“No.”

“You mind if I let mine look at the check and the paperwork?”

She waved his question away. “Whatever. What do you think I should do with the money? Do you like the idea of setting up a trust for homeless animals?”

“I think you should invest it.”

“Why?”

“Then you can spend the interest and keep the principle into perpetuity. At eight percent, rock-solid investments, no risk, you’d have four hundred thousand a year. If you wanted to play around a little-”

“And I could take the four hundred thousand and run the trust.”

“Or pay your rent.”

“Dog food comes out of that money, Professor. Nothing else.”

The jet engines whined as the aircraft gained speed on the runway. “I’ve never met a woman with more money and less inclination to spend it.”

“It’s not my money.”

“It’s all your money.”

“I don’t have a moral right to it.”

“Neither does anyone else. And you have the signing authority.”

She leaned back in her seat. “You’re a mercenary man, Professor Grosso.”

“Damn straight.”

“Okay,” she challenged, as the aircraft lifted smoothly from the runway, taking aim at a clear blue sky. “If it was your dog, your windfall, what would you do with it?”

That stopped him for a moment. “That’s a completely different question.”

“How is it different?”

“Because I don’t need the money.”

“You’re telling me five million dollars doesn’t have the power to completely change your life?”

He gave her a dead-on gaze.

“No way,” she accused. He did not have that kind of money already. He was a college professor. His family’s money?

“Ermanometry,” he said. “Taken as a whole, the stock market is geometrically perfect.”

This was too much. “You got rich through some secret mathematical formula.”

“Basically.”

“And you’re telling me you don’t need my measly five million dollars.”

“Five million dollars isn’t measly.” A light came on behind his hazel eyes. “But I could double it for you.”

“Is that illegal?”

He looked affronted. “Of course it’s not illegal. Anybody who took the trouble to do the research could do exactly the same thing.”

She gave a wry smile. “Or anybody who takes the trouble to sleep with the guy who did the research.”

It took a second for the irreverent meaning to hit him. But then he grinned. “Now you’re catching on.”

She reached for his hand and twined their fingers together, tired of worrying about the money for the moment. “So, what are we doing in Pocono?”

“Checking into the hotel. After that, I’m open to suggestions.” He raised her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “As long as it involves the whirlpool tub.”

“I meant at the track. I assume we’re ready to publicly own up to dating?”

Something flickered in his eyes, turning them golden for a split second before he blinked the emotion away. “We’ll own up to dating.”

“Good.”

“You know there’ll be some concerns. Steve has stated his position.”

“Patsy’s fine with it.”

“Dean’s not.”

QUALIFYING WAS WELL UNDERWAY by the time Crystal and Larry made it to the track in the midafternoon. Hand in hand, they wound their way through the infield in the general direction of Dean and Patsy’s motor home. Patsy had promised a barbecue for some of the drivers and teams, and Crystal couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of hanging out with the teams.

Walking past the garage area and the line of haulers, Crystal spotted a tall, brown-haired man in a Maximus Motorsports uniform, walking next to Kent. She was positive it was Steve Grosso. She gave herself a mental pep talk, prepared to make a good impression. Once Steve met her-once she wasn’t just a generic “younger woman” dating his dad-she was sure everything would be all right.

She glanced up at Larry. He squared his shoulders and increased his pace, walking straight toward the pair.

Steve spotted them, and annoyance flexed over his face.

Kent, on the other hand, smiled a greeting. But then he glanced at their joined hands, and his eyes narrowed in puzzlement.

“Steve,” Larry greeted, in a deep voice.

“Dad,” came the tense-shouldered response.

Crystal put on her most friendly smile, while Larry turned his attention to Kent.

“Kent, I don’t know if you remember Crystal Hayes?”

Kent gave her a nod of greeting. “Sure.” His glance went to their joined hands again, clearly working through the possible scenarios.

“Crystal and I are dating,” said Larry.

Steve’s lips compressed, and his eyes narrowed at his father.

“Nice to see you again, Crystal,” Kent put in conversationally.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she offered, trying hard to ignore Steve’s censure. This wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped.

“We’re running late,” said Steve in a clipped tone.

“You’re not going to say hello to Crystal?” Larry asked his son.

The tone was as terse as his expression. “Hello, Crystal.”

She forced herself to ignore the undercurrents. She wouldn’t win him over by getting angry. “Hello, Steve.”

Larry, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to let the slight pass. He took a step toward Steve, dropping his voice. “Don’t be an ass.”

“We’re running late,” Steve repeated.

“A radio call-in show,” Kent added jovially, in an obvious attempt to defuse the tension.

“I hope it’s fun,” said Crystal, while father and son stared each other down.

“CJRM,” said Kent, glancing at Steve.

“I know they have an affiliate in Charlotte,” she tried.

But Kent had given up. He gaped openly at the other two men.

Crystal wrapped her hand around Larry’s arm. “Larry, we should probably let them-”

“This isn’t the way I raised you,” Larry said to Steve.

“Larry,” Crystal tried again, tugging his arm. She hadn’t expected things to go off the rails this quickly nor this completely.

Steve slid her a look of contempt.

“What?” she found herself asking.

“He thinks you’re after my money,” said Larry.

Steve’s jaw dropped a quarter inch, and Kent took a step back.

“You what?” asked Crystal, too astonished to maintain her facade.

“Dad,” Steve protested.

“We might as well put our cards on the table.” Larry looked to Crystal. “Are you after my money?”

“Absolutely not.” She crossed her arms over her chest and confronted Steve. “I’m after his body.”

“This isn’t a joke,” he growled.

Kent grabbed Steve’s arm and bodily moved him to one side. “We’re late,” he said with finality. “The rest of this is going to have to wait.” Then he steered Steve around Larry and Crystal.

“See what I mean?” Larry said to Crystal as the two men disappeared. “People are going to assume the worst.”

Steve hadn’t even given Crystal a chance.

Larry took her hand again. “Steve and your mother,” he sighed. “I’m waiting for Milo’s reaction, as well as the rest of the family. Imagine what perfect strangers are going to say.”

“I don’t care,” Crystal asserted. She truly didn’t. She was willing to put up a fight for Larry. She had to believe that Steve would eventually calm down. Over time, he’d be forced to believe she wasn’t after Larry’s money.

As for the strangers? They were strangers. Who cared what they thought or said? But family…they could make it difficult.

Just then, three men dressed in orange and brown Fulcrum Racing uniforms walked by. They gazed at Larry, then their attention shifted to Crystal, then one nudged the other and made a sly-smiled comment.

Larry made a sound of frustration deep in his throat.

“I didn’t even see that,” said Crystal, pointedly looking straight ahead.

But it was frustrating to have her looks prejudice people’s reactions all over again. With Simon, men had always given him automatic respect and a lucky dog smirk while she was on his arm. And he’d preened under the attention. With Larry, it was the opposite. It was clear people thought he’d somehow bought and paid for her.

“IT’S THE PRICE YOU PAY FOR a fifty-two second lap,” said Dean, protecting his rib cage as he eased his body into a lawn chair on the rough grass outside his motor home. The awning provided shade from the waning sun, while a light breeze rustled the red-checked table cloth next to the stainless-steel propane barbecue.

“Will it bother you tomorrow?” asked crew chief, Perry Noble, helping himself to a soda from the cooler.

“Just a bruise,” said Dean, his gaze resting on Larry and Crystal.

Crystal caught Patsy’s profile as she set out chips and salsa next to a fruit platter and smoothed the table cloth. Her movements were clipped and precise.

“Larry,” Dean greeted. “Crystal.”

Crystal glanced at Dean, expecting disapproval, so she wasn’t surprised when it was there in his expression. But she was more worried about Patsy.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” she said to Dean.

“That’s racing. Besides, it’s nothing,” said Dean, while Patsy marched back into the motor home.

Crystal took a chance and followed her. She rapped lightly on the metal door before gingerly pushing it open. “Patsy?”

Patsy turned from the sink that was halfway down the massive motor home. “Come in, Crystal.”

“Everything okay?”

“Of course,” she continued washing tomatoes, placing them on a tea towel beside the sink. “Dean got the pole.”

“Fantastic.”

“Yeah.”

Crystal came inside, latching the door behind her. “Thanks for inviting us.”

“Thanks for coming.” Patsy swiped at her cheek with the back of her hand.

Crystal moved closer still. “You sure everything’s okay?”

“Dean bruised his ribs.”

“I saw that.”

“No spinout, no crash, no nothing. Just a mishap with the harness, and he’s got a bruised rib.”

“Will he be able to drive tomorrow?”

Patsy gave a hollow laugh, yanking the plug from the sink and drying her hands on a corner of the towel. Her hands trembled ever so slightly. “The man could be in traction, and he’d be begging them to winch him into the driver’s seat.” She pulled open a drawer and retrieved a long, sharp knife.

Crystal moved in. “Why don’t you let me do that?” She gently removed the knife from Patsy’s hand.

“Am I that bad?” Patsy stared down at her trembling hands. “Damn.” She pressed them against her beige shorts.

“Do you need a drink?” asked Crystal, washing her hands. “Maybe you should sit down.”

“I would, if I thought it would help.” Patsy crossed to the big refrigerator and retrieved a head of lettuce. “I hope you like hamburgers.”

“I love hamburgers,” said Crystal, slicing through the juicy tomatoes.

“How’s Larry?”

“He’s good.” Crystal glanced out the window to where Larry had pulled a chair up next to Dean. The two men were talking with Perry who stood facing them.

“Any developments?”

Patsy looked like a nervous wreck, but Crystal was willing to go along with small talk if that’s what she wanted.

“He’s agreed to tell the world we’re dating.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. Patsy-”

“I mean, there’s nothing to hide, right?” Patsy’s laugh was a little shrill.

Crystal reached out to cover Patsy’s hand. “Does Dean know you’re this upset?”

Patsy gazed at her with deep, luminous, blue eyes and then laughed again. “He thinks I’m being unreasonable and should seek psychological help.”

Crystal laughed, too.”

Patsy sighed. “I can’t leave. But I can’t stay.”

Everything froze inside Crystal. “It’s that serious?”

Patsy concentrated on the lettuce, but she gave a shaky nod. “We’re fighting all the time. It’s no good for me, and I can’t let him drive off in his race car upset. Can you imagine…”

Crystal wrapped an arm around Patsy’s narrow shoulders. Her gaze went to the window once again, taking in the man whose stubbornness was making Patsy miserable.

Perry was gone, and she could tell from Larry’s and Dean’s arm gestures that they were arguing.

“What do you want to do?” Crystal whispered to Patsy.

“The impossible,” said Patsy. “But what I’ll do instead, is be a good NASCAR wife. I’ll swallow my fear and support my husband. He’s got an important race tomorrow, and he needs to focus. That’s the best-” Her voice broke, but she quickly regrouped. “Thanks.”

“For what?” asked Crystal. She hadn’t done a single thing to help. She didn’t even have any advice for Patsy.

“For listening,” said Patsy. “It helps.”

“I’m glad. But…” She looked pointedly out of the window at the two angry men. “It might have been better if Larry and I had stayed away.”

Patsy followed the direction of her gaze. “He’s definitely not thrilled with your relationship,” she agreed.

“Has he said anything?” asked Crystal, girding herself.

“He’s said a lot of things. Most of them you don’t need to hear. I’m honestly not sure if he’s that convinced Larry is making a fool of himself, or if Dean’s grown so accustomed to seeing Larry alone, that he’s worried about him. The Grossos are extremely close. They protect each other.”

“Larry’s not making a fool of himself,” Crystal quickly defended. “And don’t worry. I like him. A lot. And that’s all there is to it.”

Patsy nodded. “I believe you.”

“I don’t try to look like a trophy girlfriend.”

Patsy pulled back and took in Crystal’s plain white T-shirt, sensible shoes, her simple ponytail and minuscule makeup. “I know you don’t.”

“I wish I was forty, with wrinkles. Maybe a little gray hair.”

Patsy laughed. “No, you don’t.”

“Okay, maybe that is a bit too radical. But it would sure make this situation a lot easier.”

“Relationships are never easy,” said Patsy.

Crystal sighed. Patsy was a wise woman. If she and Dean were still struggling, what chance did Crystal and Larry stand?