LILY

"Crap, crap, crap."

I shove my feet into the pair of sneakers near the door of the suite. I'm never late for appointments or meetings, but tonight I'm a mess. It's already ten minutes after nine, and I just hung up with Dad's doctor. I've decided to stay at Dad's suite instead of home, since I'll likely want to collapse after this meeting with Max and can't bear another ride in bumper-to-bumper Miami traffic.

After I snatch my purse off the bed, I race out of the room, down the hall and the elevator, and walk outdoors to the pool bar. The crowd is beautiful and sleek, quintessentially Miami, and I'm painfully aware that I look like hell, a manatee in a sea filled with models.

No one recognizes me, and I like that. It's my superpower, being able to seamlessly blend in anywhere. I used to think it was a curse being plain, but now I know otherwise.

The pool area is low-lit, but I can make out Max sitting in the back corner on the edge of a cabana, looking like a rich tourist instead of a man who drove around a track for three hours at 200 MPH only hours earlier. Tall palms sway with the warm breeze, and a hint of pool chlorine and coconut oil hangs in the air.

Pop music that I don't entirely recognize hums along in the background, and a few people are deep in conversation over expensive cocktails. There are few people from the team in the hotel; I know this because Adam informed me that they're packing up the garage and temporary buildings on the track and leaving for the next race in Texas.

These are race fans, rich ones, who are wringing out one more night of partying.

Max lifts his hand and waves me over, but there's no smile on his face. For the hundredth time, I'm wondering why he's asked me here.

As I walk to his cabana, I stare at my feet. The last thing I want is for him to think I'm eager to impress him, although one look at me and he'll know I'm not trying to make an impression on anyone. My hair looks like a ferret's nest and my face is ashen and worn. He probably thinks I've just crawled out of a garbage pile. Or worse. I'm trying to forget that he's been photographed over the years with the world's most beautiful models and actresses.

When I reach the cabana, he holds the curtain open for me. The interior is illuminated by two faux candles, making everything seem insistently sensuous. There are two chairs and a loveseat clustered around a low wooden table. I choose the chair. "I'm so sorry. I've been waiting for the hospital to call with an update about Dad, and they just did only fifteen minutes ago."

"How is he?" Max sprawls on the loveseat, his eyes full of intensity. My face flashes hot, because I'm feeling that old spark between us. The one that first flared when he was a new to Formula World, only twenty years old.

I nod slowly. "He's...okay. As well as can be expected. The surgery went a little longer than expected — four hours — but it went quite well. They're observing him in the ICU and I should be able to see him tomorrow. He had a near-total blockage in one artery and they said it could've been..."

It's impossible to say the word fatal because it's too frightening, and for the first time in a few hours, tears claw their way into my eyes. I swallow, hard.

"Sorry. Sorry." I try to blink away the tears but they spill over my lids. When I reach for a bar napkin on the table, Max is already holding it.

"It's okay. This is all really scary and unexpected." His tone is low and growly, with a touch of annoyance, and I take the napkin from him to wipe my face. Most men would try to hug me, come around to my chair and put their arms around my shoulders.

Not Max. Well, the sweet Max I used to know would've done that, but this Max, older and hardened, doesn't bother. He thinks that little of me. Or he's embarrassed by my very public display of grief. Probably that's it, because Max almost never shows emotion around other people, and definitely not in a hotel cabana.

I gulp in a few breaths, settling my quivering insides. "I'm fine. Really. This whole thing took me by surprise since Dad seems, seemed, so healthy."

"Took me by surprise, too. It was shock to everyone on the team."

"You didn't notice anything out of place this morning at the team meeting or in the garage?"

Max studies me for a beat and I wave my hand dismissively. "No, that's a silly question on my part. Of course you didn't, you were focused on the race."

"Actually, I noticed that he was sweating a little more than usual, but I thought it was because he was hot." Max sips from a glass of water.

"It was a brutal day today." I lean back into my seat and look around for the server.

"Brutal is a good way of putting it." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"I'm sorry about the engine. Saw the highlights on TV. Apparently it was the first thing Dad asked the nurse when he came out of anesthesia. Race results." A sad little laugh escapes my lips.

"Did the nurse tell him?"

I shake my head. "They claimed not to know anything. He was too out of it to know it was a lie, but they didn't want to upset him."

The muscles in Max's chiseled jaw tense for a brief second, then relax. That's about all the indication I'm going to get that he's angry or annoyed. His eyes are seemingly boring into mine, and I shift uncomfortably. Good lord, he's somehow even more magnetic, more alluring now than when I first met him. Before he was an eager, brash guy, and now he's all man, silent and broody.

"Where's the server anyway, I think I need a dr—"

I'm almost immediately interrupted by a waiter balancing two plates of food on one arm, and tray with drinks.

"Here we go," the server says in the most upbeat tone I've heard in hours. "Sashimi and a mojito, and a vegan burger for the champion."

My jaw drops. Max had gone ahead and ordered for me. He'd remembered the exact thing I'd ordered all those years ago that night we first hooked up in a room on the tenth floor of this very hotel.

Max flashes a smile, displaying straight, white teeth, and murmurs thank you, but I'm sure inside he's cringing at the word champion, considering how he flamed out on the track today.

"Will you need anything else?"

Max leans back and extracts his wallet, taking out a hundred-dollar bill. "If you could keep any press and autograph seekers away, that would be perfect, bro."

The server takes the money and does a little bow. "Of course, sir. My pleasure." He thanks Max profusely as he backs away.

I'm still stunned about the sashimi and stare at Max. "What's this?"

By now, Max has already picked up his burger and is lifting it to his mouth. "Sashimi. It's your favorite."

The fact that he remembered this, then went ahead and ordered for me, is such a shock that I fumble with the chopsticks. They clatter to the table and I scoop them up.

"Is that okay?" he says between bites, ignoring my clumsiness.

"Yes, it's fine." I move some wasabi from the plate to a small vessel, eager to change the subject. He got lucky, or is being polite, that's all.

"When did you become a vegetarian?" I eye his plate suspiciously. The Max I used to know loved meat in all forms.

He lifts a shoulder. "My new trainer suggested it at the beginning of the season. I agreed to try a no meat, no alcohol diet, and think it's working well. It's not much fun, but whatever it takes, right?"

"Well, you look amazing." Dammit, I didn't mean to blurt that out loud. But he does. The lean, sinewy muscles of his forearms and the rock-solid biceps are difficult not to stare at.

He grins, the first real smile I've seen him express. "Thanks. You're looking—"

"No." I wag my finger and pick up my mojito. "I look like hell. Feel like it, too."

He swipes a French fry off his plate and pops it between his lips. He chews while studying me, swallows, then finally says, "Nah. You're still beautiful."

I practically spray my drink out of my mouth, onto my plate and him, but swallow a mouthful just in time. Did a compliment just leak from his mouth? Even when we'd been together, his compliments were reserved for intimate moments only, under the cover of darkness and usually whispered in my ear.

Obviously, he's just being polite. He's a European man, after all, and has an almost uncanny instinct of how to flatter women of all ages.

He grins lasciviously. "Now it's my turn to apologize. I probably shouldn't say that to my new boss."

"Oh, please, Max..." My voice trails off, because I'm not sure what to say. There's a little part of me that wants to soak in the compliment and flirt mercilessly with him, the way we used to. But I know better, partially because I am, technically, the person running this team.

And because I'm certain he's said those words to dozens of women over the years. I might have been the first woman he slept with, but I definitely wasn't the last, if the tabloids over the last several years are even a little correct.

The last thing I want is to be treated like all the others. As it stands, I was first. First in a long line of women, but still first.

And I absolutely hate to come in second, to anyone.

"What?" He sips his water, seemingly unbothered by my protest. "I can't tell you that you look good?"

"I just don't... it's not... we shouldn't fall back on...," flustered, I take another gulp of my drink, which is cool and strong. We can't do this. "Max, why did you ask me to dinner, anyway? Did you want to ask about what happened at my former job?"

He takes a bite of his burger and I eat a couple of pieces of raw salmon while he chews and swallows.

"No, that wasn't why I wanted to have dinner with you. But tell me about the racing game company." He dips a fry into a little tub of mayonnaise.

"You didn't hear why I was fired from my last job?"

He shakes his head. "Not really."

I hate responses like that, and I stab a chopstick into the blob of wasabi, then lick a little off the tip. Maybe the intense clearing of my sinus cavities from the spice will help me answer this question. "A guy I worked with loudly told people at a conference that I'd be a good lay."

Max stops chewing, swallows, and glares at me. "What?"

"That kind of talk is really common in tech. I'd been telling the executives in the company about how the few women at the office were treated. They ignored me. And when that incident at the conference happened, I tweeted it, with the guy's photo. I kind of let anger get the best of me. It became kind of a big deal in the tech world."

I try to say all of this in an easy, breezy way, like my entire life wasn't upended. Max's expression is a mixture of horror and disgust, and I don't bother with explaining about all the online harassment that ensued. Max knows the price of fame.

"You had to put up with all of that?"

I nod.

"I had no idea."

"Why would you? Most people outside the tech sphere don't know what women go through in that industry."

"You won't be treated that way in Formula World, you know."

I jiggle my knee, wishing I was anywhere but here. I wasn't so sure of Max's statement, because in my experience, whenever a woman works in a man's world, she's subject to all kinds of abuse, both subtle and overt. But perhaps he's right, or maybe I'll be shielded from such behavior because I'm the team owner's daughter. "I hope not."

"I'm sorry, Lily." His expression softens, as does his tone.

"No need to apologize. Anyway, tell me why you wanted to have dinner and chat." Both knees are jiggling now, up down up down, and I force myself to stop by pressing my heels into the ground.

"Yeah, ah, I wanted to bring you up to speed about the quality of my car. Since you're running the team. This is a conversation I would've had with your father after today's race. I have a lot of concerns, and someone needs to fix things, otherwise I'm going to lose and this team will lose also. I'm sure you don't want that."

His suddenly cold demeanor makes my hunger evaporate and my stomach plummet with disappointment. Of course. He doesn't want to catch up, doesn't want to talk to me at all — he only wants to discuss business.

I set down my chopsticks, no longer hungry, and reach for the pen and small notebook I always keep in my purse. This is exactly the position I didn't want to be in: steeling myself for another heartbreak from Max.

"Of course. Please tell me all about the car."

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