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  The explosion of excitement that burst through the room drowned out her horrified gasp. Manly slaps of his shoulder and offers of congratulations echoed through her numb senses.

  When someone suggested a quick press conference, Raven finally found the strength to stand and approach him as the room emptied.

  ‘R...Rafael, can I talk to you?’

  ‘Now is not a good time, bonita.’ His voice was brusque to the point of rudeness.

  The endearment she was beginning to adore suddenly grated. But she refused to be dismissed. ‘I think this is a bad idea.’

  ‘Sí, I knew you would think so. But I can’t help what you think. Needs must and I stand to become embroiled in all sorts of legal wrangling if this isn’t sorted out.’

  She frowned. ‘But it was the driver who broke the contract. Isn’t he liable?’

  ‘No, he isn’t. XPM is staging this event, so I’m responsible. I should’ve taken more time to ensure contingencies were in place before we arrived. Everyone here knows someone’s dropped the ball. Unfortunately, they’re looking at me to pick it up and run with it.’ He was the hard businessman, the ruthless racer who’d held a finite edge over his competitors for years.

  He was certainly nothing like the lover who’d taken her to the heights of ecstasy.

  She fought to regain her own professionalism, to put aside the hurt splintering her insides. ‘As your physiotherapist, I’ll have to recommend that you don’t race.’

  ‘Your recommendation is duly noted. Is that all?’

  Her fists clenched in futile anger. Anger she wanted to let loose but couldn’t. Her days of lashing out were far, far behind her. ‘No, that’s not all! This is crazy. You’re risking your health, not to mention your life, Rafael.’

  His smile was tight and tension-filled. ‘And you are running the risk of overstepping, querida. I won’t be tacky enough to point out just what your role is in my life considering the lines have been blurred somewhat, but I expect you to recognise the proper time and place for voicing disagreement.’

  The blunt words hit her like a slap in the face. Regret momentarily tightened his face, then it smoothed once again into the outward mask of almost bored indifference.

  It took every ounce of self-control to contain her composure. ‘No, you’re right. Pardon me for thinking of your health first.’ She indicated the frenzy outside, the racetrack and the baking heat under which the cars gleamed. ‘Off you go, then. And good luck.’

  He reached forward and grabbed her arm when she’d have turned away.

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’

  ‘What?’ She made herself look into his eyes, determined not to be cowed by the storm of fear rolling through her gut. He returned her look with one that momentarily confused her. Had her thoughts been clearer, Raven would’ve sworn Rafael was scared out of his wits.

  ‘As my physio, you need to come with me, attend to my needs until I’m in the cockpit. Have you forgotten your role already?’

  She had. Whether intentionally or through mental blockage, she’d tried to put her role eight months ago as Rafael’s race physio out of her mind. Because every time she thought of it, she remembered their last row. Her rash, heated words; the stunned look on his face as he’d absorbed her bone-stripping insults before he’d walked out to his car. They’d been in a situation like this, momentarily alone in a place that buzzed with suppressed energy. His race suit had been open and around his neck she’d spied his customary chain with the cross on it. The cross he kissed before each race.

  In the months since, she’d remembered vividly that Rafael hadn’t kissed his cross that day...

  Now, Raven was in favour of forgetting all about it. All she wanted to do right now was find a dark corner, stay there and not come out until the blasted race was over. Watching his crash that day had been one of the most heart-wrenching experiences of her life. She would give anything not to be put in that position again.

  But she had a job to do. Sucking a sustaining breath, she nodded. ‘Of course, whatever you need.’ Pulling herself from his grasp, she walked towards the bar and picked up two bottles of mineral water. She handed him one. ‘We’re a little late off the mark in trying to hydrate you sufficiently so I’d suggest you get as much liquid in as possible.’

  He took the bottle from her but made no move to drink the water.

  ‘You think I’m making the wrong decision.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘What I think is no longer relevant, remember?’ Her gaze dropped meaningfully to the bottle.

  He uncapped it and drank without taking his gaze off her face. She felt the heavy force of his stare but studiously avoided eye contact. When he finished and tossed the empty bottle aside, she handed him the second bottle.

  ‘Drink this one in about ten minutes.’ She started to walk towards the door, eager to get away from the clamouring need to throw herself in his path, to stop him putting himself in any danger.

  Too late, she realised the media had camped outside the door, eager to jump on the latest news of Rafael’s return.

  Is this the start of your comeback?

  Are you sure you can take the pressure?

  Which team will you be driving for when the X1 season starts next month?

  Rafael fielded their questions without breaking a sweat, all the while keeping a firm hold on her elbow. Every time she tried to free herself, he held on tighter.

  Raven spotted the keen reporter from the corner of her eye.

  Is there a new woman in your life?

  Without the barest hint of affront, he smiled. ‘If I told you that you’d stop hounding me, then my life would no longer be worth living, would it?’

  The paparazzi, normally a vicious thrill-seeking lot, actually laughed. Raven marvelled at the spectacle. Then berated herself for failing to realise the obvious. Sooner or later, everyone, man, woman or child, fell under Rafael’s uniquely enthralling spell.

  She’d fooled herself into believing she could fall only a little, that she could go only so far before, wisely and safely, she pulled back from the dizzying precipice.

  How wrong she’d been. Wasn’t she right now experiencing the very depths of hell because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being hurt again?

  Hadn’t she spent half the night awake, her stomach tied in knots as she’d wondered why so beautiful a man suffered tortured dreams because of his choices and his determination to shut everyone out?

  She hadn’t missed the phone calls from his father that he’d avoided, or the one from Marco yesterday that he’d swiftly ended when she entered the room.

  Pain stabbed deep as she acknowledged that she’d come to adore him just a little bit more than she’d planned to. She’d probably started adoring him the moment he’d answered her call and agreed to see her in Barcelona seven weeks ago.

  Because by allowing her in just that little bit meant he didn’t hate her as much as he should. Or maybe he didn’t hate her at all.

  Or maybe she was deluding herself.

  ‘A three-line frown. Stop it or I’ll have to do something drastic, like confirm to them just who the new woman in my life is. Personally, I don’t mind drastic but I have a feeling you wouldn’t enjoy being eaten alive by the paparazzi.’

  She’d been walking alongside him without conscious thought as to where they were going. The sound of the engine revving made her jump. ‘No, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Bueno, then behave.’

  They’d arrived at the garage of the defected racer. Rafael grabbed the nearest sound-cancelling headphones and passed them to her.

  She was about to put them on when she spotted Chantilly, lounging with a bored look on her face on the other side of the garage. The second she spotted Rafael, she came to vivacious life.

  ‘Damn it, your
frown just deepened. What did I say about behaving?’

  ‘What’s she doing here? In this garage, I mean?’

  Rafael followed her gaze to Chantilly, then glanced back at her. ‘Her husband owns this team.’

  The single swear word escaped before she could stop it. A slow grin spread over Rafael’s face but it didn’t pack the same charismatic punch as it usually did. Examining him closer, she noted the lines of strain around his mouth.

  ‘Sheath your claws, chiquita. I told you, I have no interest in her. Not after discovering the delights of fresh English roses.’ A pulse of heat from his eyes calmed her somewhat but it was gone far too quickly for her to feel its warmth.

  The chief engineer called out for Rafael and, with another haunted look down at her, he went over to discuss telemetry reports with the team.

  The ninety minutes before the race passed with excruciating slowness. With every second that counted down, Raven’s insides knotted harder. The walk across the sun-baked pit lane into the race lane felt like walking the most terrifying gauntlet.

  She hitched the emergency bag higher on her shoulder and took her place beside Rafael’s car, making sure to keep the umbrella above his head to protect his suit-clad body from overheating. She ignored the sweat trickling down her own back to check for signs of distress on him.

  ‘If you feel your hip tightening, try those pelvic rotations we practised by flexing your spine. I know you don’t have much room in the cockpit but give it a try anyway,’ she said, trying desperately to hang on to a modicum of professionalism.

  He nodded but didn’t look up. His attention was fixed on the dials on his steering wheel. When the first red light flashed on, signalling it was time to clear the track, Raven opened her mouth to say something...anything, but her throat had closed up.

  She took one step back, and another.

  ‘Rafael...’ she whispered.

  His head swung towards her, ice-blue eyes capturing hers for a single naked second.

  The stark emptiness in his eyes made her heart freeze over.

  * * *

  Rafael fought to regulate his breathing. Shards of memories pierced his mind, drenching his spine and palms in cold sweat.

  His fight with Marco the night before the Hungary race...

  You’re dishonouring Mamá’s memory by continuing with this reckless behaviour...

  Sasha’s voice joined the clamouring...it’s not okay for you to let everyone think you’re a bastard.

  And Raven’s condemning truth...you’re a useless waste of space...who cares about nothing but himself and his own vacuous pleasures...

  He tried to clear his mind but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Those words had carried him into that near fatal corner that day in Hungary because he’d known they all spoke the truth. What they hadn’t known was that the day had held another meaning for him. It was emblazoned into his memory like a hot iron brand.

  That day in Hungary had been exactly eight years to the day he’d charmed his mother into the ride that had ended her life...the day he’d let partying too hard snuff out a life he’d now happily give his own to have returned.

  Looking into Raven’s eyes just now, he’d known she was recalling her words, too; he’d seen the naked fear and remorse in her eyes. But he hadn’t been able to offer reassurance.

  How could he, when he knew deep down she was right? Since his mother’s death, he’d lived in the special place in hell he’d reserved for himself. That no trespassing place where no one and nothing was allowed to touch him.

  It was a place he planned on staying...

  No matter how horrifyingly lonely...

  His gaze darted to the lights as they lit up. Jaw tight, he tried to empty his mind of all thought, but her face kept intruding...her pleading eyes boring into his ravaged soul despite every effort to block her out.

  Que diablos!

  He stepped on the accelerator a touch later than he’d planned and cursed again as Axel Jung and Matteo, the teenage driver, shot past him on either side. Even in a showcase event like this one, a fraction of a second was all it took to fall behind.

  Adrenaline and age-old reflexes kicked in but Rafael knew he was already at a disadvantage. He eyed the gap to the right on the second corner, and calculated that he could slot himself in there if he was quick enough. He pressed his foot down and felt his pulse jump when Axel, in a bid to cut him off, positioned himself in front of him.

  In a move he’d perfected long before he’d been tall enough to fit into an X1 cockpit, he flicked his wrist and dashed down the left side of the track. Too late, Axel tried to cover his mistake but Rafael was already a nose ahead of the German. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other driver flick him a dirty gesture.

  Where normally he’d have grinned with delight behind his helmet, Rafael merely gestured back and pressed down even harder on the accelerator, desperately trying to outrun his demons the way he had that day in Hungary.

  You’re not all bad...

  Yes, he was. Even his father looked at him with pity and sadness.

  His father...the man he’d put in a wheelchair. The man who kept calling and leaving him messages because Rafael was too afraid...too ashamed to talk to him.

  The car shot forward faster. Inside his helmet, his race engineer’s voice cautioned him on the upcoming bend. The words barely registered before disappearing under the heavy weight of his thoughts. He took the bend without lifting off the throttle or easing back on his speed.

  He heard the muted roar of the appreciative crowd but the spark of excitement he’d expected from the recognition that he was still in fine racing form, that his accident hadn’t made him lose what was most important to him, didn’t manifest.

  That was when the panic started.

  For as long as he could recall, that excitement had been present. No matter what else was going on in his life, racing was the one thing that had always...always given him a thrill, given him a reason to push forward.

  Fear clutched his chest as he searched for and found only emptiness. In front of him, Matteo had made a mistake that had cost him a few milliseconds, bringing Rafael into passing distance of him.

  He could pass him, using the same move he’d used in Hungary. He had nothing to lose. The grin that spread over his face felt alien yet oddly calming, as did the black haze that started to wash over his eyes.

  He had nothing to lose...

  ‘Rafael, your liquid level readings show you haven’t taken a drink in the last thirty minutes.’

  Her voice...husky, low, and filled with fearful apprehension, shot into his head with the power of a thunderclap. He gasped as he felt himself yanked back from the edge, from the dark abyss he’d been staring into.

  For a single second, he hated her for intruding.

  ‘Rafael?’

  Sucking in a breath, he glanced up and realised Matteo had regained his speed and was streaking ahead. And still, Rafael felt...nothing.

  ‘Rafael, please respond.’ A shaky plea.

  He didn’t, because he couldn’t speak, but he took a drink and kept his foot on the pedal until the race was over.

  The shoulder slaps of congratulations for coming in second washed right over him. On the podium, he smiled, congratulated Axel and even felt a little spurt of pride when Matteo took the top step, but all through it he was numb.

  The moment he stepped off the podium, he ripped off his race suit. He brushed away the engineer’s request for a post race analysis, his every sense shrieking warning of imminent disaster.

  He rushed out of the garage, for the first time in his life ignoring the media pen, the paparazzi and news anchors who raced after him for a sound bite.

  Relief rushed through him as he entered his motor home and slammed the door shut behind him.
r />   ‘Rafael?’

  Dios mío. Had he lost it so completely he was now hearing her voice in his head? Bile surged through his stomach and leapt into his throat. He barely made it to the bathroom before he retched with a violence that made his eyes water.

  For several minutes he hunched over the bowl, feelings coursing through him that he couldn’t name. No...he knew what those feelings were, it was just that he’d never allowed them room in his life.

  He was a racing driver. Racing was his lifeblood. Therefore he had no room for despair or fear. He was used to success, to adrenaline-fuelled excitement. To pride and satisfaction in what he did. So why the hell was he puking his guts out while fear churned through his veins?

  Because, diablo, he had finally parted ways with reality.

  With a stark laugh and a shake of his head, he cleaned up after himself, rinsed his mouth thoroughly...

  And turned to find Raven in the doorway, her face deathly pale and her gorgeous eyes wide with panic.

  ‘Madre de dios. What the hell are you doing here?’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘ARE YOU ALL right?’ Raven asked, making a small movement forward.

  Rafael instinctively stepped back from her. If she touched him, she would know. And whatever else he was...or wasn’t, the last thing he wanted Raven Blass, this infuriatingly bright, mind-bendingly sexy woman, to see was his fear.

  He took another step back, feeling more exposed than he’d ever felt in his life.

  The water he’d splashed over his face chilled his skin. ‘Am I all right? Sure. I puke my guts out after every race. Didn’t you know that?’

  ‘No you don’t.’ She took another step closer and, instantly, another more urgent need surged to the fore. The need to grab her, plaster her warm, giving body against his, use her to stem the tide of icy numbness spreading over him.

  Use her...

  Bile threatened to rise again and he swallowed hard. He stepped past her, entered the bedroom and started to undress.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’

  Rafael glanced down at his hands and realised they were shaking. The realisation stunned him so completely, his whole body shuddered before he could control himself. The idea that he was losing control so completely, so unstoppably, made irrational anger whip up inside him.