“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.