Love In The Fast Lane Part 2

"Hey, babe," Emma greeted from the kitchen counter, hunched over a mug. She was sipping a cup of coffee and although it didn't show, Brielle knew she was nursing a hangover.

They were fortunate enough to have leased out a self-catering suite for the week and they didn't have to fork out copious amounts of money on the luxury of hotel breakfasts.

"Hey Em, sleep well?"

"Like a drunken sailor."

"I'm going to shower quick, ok?"

Emma grunted non-committedly.

When Brielle was showered and brushed and looking like America's Sweetheart, she bounded into the main living area and sat beside her friend. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

Emma perked up at the mention of her all-time favorite activity planning.

"Well, there's a carnival on at the city center. I think there's some Formula 1 racing thing happening at the moment and the city planned a whole festival around it to capitalize on the tourists."

"That's clever."

"Yeah, so I figure that after I eventually get into the shower, we could head down there. And then in the evening, I hear that the hotel is having a bonfire on the beach. That could be fun."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Of course it is, I am the quintessential planner."

Brielle smiled at her friend. "So, what happened after I left Club Vesuvius last night?"

Emma sighed. "Nothing out of the ordinary. There was that one guy that I kissed and wow could he kiss." She fanned her face with her open palm for emphasis, feigning a swoon.

"Then what happened?"

"Nothing. Just another playboy. Kissed and flirted and then decided he had to go so he called me a taxi and we went our separate ways. Kind of disappointing to be honest. Oh well, plenty of fish to catch in this Brazilian sea." With a wink she left to go shower.

Nate walked into the pit lane at the race track and felt a calm that only driving brought him. Today was race day.

There were still many months to go before the Champions.h.i.+p race and the close of the racing season but it was early days and he intended to use every second to his advantage on the track. Many drivers took it easy during early races and struggled to pick up the pace toward the latter part of the season. Nate intended to rack up the points from the very beginning. This was his season to win, he would make sure of it.

"I know that look."

Nate turned around and came face to face with Michael Carr, the Blue Stratos F1 team manager.

"Hey Mike, how are you doing?" Nate looked pointedly at the older man, taking in his greying hair and furrowed brow. Years in the industry had taken its toll on him. Nate remembered when he met him, merely eight years ago. The man had aged so much in such a short time from the stress of it. The job and the cancer.

"Don't you look at me like that, son," the older man scolded. "It's just a G.o.dd.a.m.n diagnosis, it's not a death sentence. The doctors caught it early and have no doubt we can beat this thing. I don't want n.o.body's pity, you hear me?"

Nate nodded, eyeing the other man for signs of bravado but truth be told, Michael was actually speaking in all seriousness.

When Nate had gotten the phone call the night before, his world had come cras.h.i.+ng down. He'd been let down so much growing up and when he turned seventeen, Michael became the constant in his life when n.o.body else had given a s.h.i.+t. He'd seen potential in a kid who went looking for trouble, and gave him a portal to channel all the anger that he'd been holding onto. Certainly more than his own father had given him. The SOB was never much of a father anyway, h.e.l.l he was even less of a man. Nate couldn't remember a single day in the fifteen years that he'd been around, when the old man wasn't drunk and belligerent as all h.e.l.l. Poor excuse for a man. And then when the news of Nate's mother's illness had surfaced, the old man had up and bailed. Nate didn't expect anything less. He shouldn't have.

"Look son, I know this cancer thing is a little too close to home with your mom and things-"

"No, don't," Nate interrupted. "That was a long time ago and it's past. It's different with you and we are going to beat this."

Michael nodded solemnly. "Well, are we going to stand here like a bunch of pansies and look up each other's skirts or are we going to race? We have a champions.h.i.+p to win if you hadn't noticed."

Nate smirked. Yes, this was the man he had come to love and respect. The no-bulls.h.i.+t, straight-talker.

Michael walked away and headed to re-join the rest of the team at the pit wall, leaving Nate to put on his white flame-r.e.t.a.r.dant suit and Nomex driver's gloves.

h.e.l.l, Nate hadn't even thought about Mike and the cancer since he'd met her. Brielle. She was so invigorating. So tentative about the world that Nate wanted to rough her up and show her how to live a little. Instead, she turned out to be the welcome distraction he'd needed last night. And then the sneaky minx had raced out of the water and stolen his s.h.i.+rt. Dammit, he'd had to call Luca who wouldn't let him live it down and then he'd had to walk into the hotel bare-chested, causing a slew of people to stop and stare. Thank G.o.d he hadn't gotten arrested for public indecency. He didn't even know her last name or where she was staying. She looked like the kind of fun he could use during his stay in Sao Paulo. No commitments, just vacation fun. Yes, fun indeed.

Nate put on his helmet and maneuvered into the race car. He fit himself into the HANS support and revved the engine for good measure. The pit crew cleared out and Nate rolled out to run his reconnaissance lap. He had run the practice lap earlier in the day and was in fifth position. He needed to rake in the points to put him higher up on the poles. The course was long and curvy with many dips and twists-it was Nate's favorite kind; handling the many changes the course through at him was where his skills were best utilized. Nothing like complete control in a vehicle in a dangerous situation. The reconnaissance lap was leisurely and more of a parade for the crowd than anything else. When he returned to the beginning of the track, he found his position on the grid and waited as the five lights flashed, signalling the start of the race. b.a.l.l.s to the floor, he took off and the adrenaline kicked in. This was his season to win.

"Oh my gosh Em, this is fantastic!" Brielle chewed thoughtfully as she closed her eyes and rolled her neck in appreciation.

Emma took a look at the odd-shaped concoction in her bowl and took a swipe of it. "Oh wow. That is pretty darn amazing. What is it?"

"It's called c.o.xinha. Basically a chicken croquette."

She sipped her fruit juice then offered Brielle a bite of her stirfry.

"I'm never leaving Brazil. I'm going to stay here and eat all their food and get fat."

Emma laughed. "You will probably develop and ulcer from all the spices before you even start to gain weight."

The crowd of people started to move toward the open tarmac area so Brielle and Emma followed suit. They found decent seats around the center stands with a good view of the large stage area below.

"I wonder what this show is about," Brielle commented. She signalled to the vendor and bought them a popcorn and c.o.ke. If there was a show to watch then she may as well settle in and enjoy.

"Ladies and gentleman," the announcer voiced, "Please take your seats as we are about to start the show.

The arena was packed to capacity with people actually standing in the aisles.

In the next five minutes, the music came loud and pulsating. Blacked Eyed Peas, Pump It.

Brielle started to get excited as the vibe in the audience become visibly electric.

The big screen lit up and a white Audi R8 was displayed. The driver was h.e.l.l on wheels. He was twisting the car every which way from Sunday and spinning the tires all over the track. He seemed to be at some sort of harbor dock and he maneuvered the spiffy sports car in and around large containers and heavy machinery, coming very close to the objects but never actually touching them. Not even a nick.

Brielle sat with her eyes fixated on the screen, in absolute awe. Street car drifting had never been something that interested her but she was surprised to find herself thrilled by this driver's techniques.

He locked his front tires and the back of the car spun in a semi-circle as he rounded a corner. All you could see was thick smoke as his tires bore the brunt.

As the music escalated, Brielle heard a loud Vroom and watched as the Audi R8 flew into the arena. The crowd went wild. Brielle stood and clapped along, encouraging the driver. He did a series of spins and tire locks, thrilling the crowd with every stunt. The smell of burning rubber was pungent in the air as his tricks continued. He lifted his arm out the window as his wiles wore on, asking the crowd for more. He cupped his ear, gesturing that he couldn't hear them and the crowd went completely ballistic.

In the next instant, three people came out and the Audi R8 drove at high speed toward them but they flipped and twisted high in the air before the sports car could even touch them. This happened in a succession of flips and tricks that had the crowd roaring for more. As the song ended, the Audi parked in the center of the arena, revving his engine as he waited for the show host to join him at the platform. He was wearing one of those white protective suits and the camera wasn't fixed on the inside of the car so Brielle couldn't get a good look at him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Formula One's Nathaaaaan Wooooolfe!!!"

Once again the crowd went crazy. The camera panned in as the driver got out and combed his fingers through his brown hair.

"Oh G.o.d," Brielle whispered. There in the flesh was Nate from last night. Nate with the skilled hands. Nate whose s.h.i.+rt she had stolen. Yikes!

The announcer asked him a series of questions which Nate answered, exciting the crowd with his boyish charm. Brielle heard none of it. Formula one? Was he some kind of racing hero? How come she had never heard of him before? Well of course, she had no life and was married to her books.

She looked back on stage and Nate was exiting the arena. In the next few minutes two motorcycles had rolled in, she could see that one of the riders was Nate, even though he had on a crash helmet.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Formula one's Blue Stratos driving legacies. Nate Wolfe and Luca Jensen."

"What the h.e.l.l?" Emma swore next to her.

"What?"

"That's the guy from last night. The one that kissed me and left. He's a racing celebrity?"

They both watched the men ride with a series of twists and turns as they accelerated up a ramp and hurled off with their bikes, performing highly dangerous stunts and landing with swift skill. They stared at the riders like two star-struck teenagers.

The crowd was playing right into the heightened drama.

After the show, Brielle and Emma walked back to the hotel, still riding the adrenaline rush of the performance.

"Em, I have a confession to make."

"Yeah?"

"I kissed that driver last night."

Emma whipped around and narrowed her eyes at Brielle.

"Not your one," she a.s.sured her, seeing the predatory look on her friend's face. "The other one, Nate."

"What?" Emma turned to face her again and the one side of her mouth turned up in a grin. "You little s.l.u.t you."

"Hey! Pot calling the kettle black here?"

Emma shrugged. "Good for you, Bree. You could do with some romance."

"Trust me, there was no romance involved. Just savage s.e.xual tension."

"Nice one. Did you enjoy it?"

"I feel guilty to say yes."

"Whatever for?"

"It's not me. I feel s.k.a.n.ky."

"Bree, you are twenty-five years old and have had only one s.e.xual partner. You haven't had a boyfriend in over two years and quite frankly, you deserve a little action in your girl parts. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You aren't sleeping with the population of Brazil. You are enjoying a few moments of fun with a deliciously hot guy," she gestured back to the arena. "You're on vacation. Let loose, have some fun and just go with it. Besides, if the man can drive like that, imagine what else he can do." Emma nodded and walked ahead.

She was right of course. Brielle was too much of a prude to even enjoy a hot kiss with a guy without dissecting it to pieces. Besides, there was nothing to really stress about. What was the likelihood she would ever see him again?

Slim to none.

CHAPTER 3.

BRIELLE SHOWERED AND DRESSED FOR the evening bonfire. She was surprisingly relaxed after the events of the day. All she'd needed was a lecture from her bestie to put things back in perspective.

She pulled up her tan shorts and adjusted her b.o.o.bs in her black lace tank top. Smoothing her blonde hair into a loose ponytail, she had no choice but to wear her bangs long. It actually looked kind of cute. Slipping on her white hoodie and zipping it up halfway, she and Emma headed to the bonfire.

"Wow, this place is teeming," Emma commented, surveying the crowd. "Who would have thought there could be so many people staying in this hotel?"

The night was dark and the fires cast a luminescent glow, creating an amazing ambience and adding warmth to the cool ocean breeze.

Brielle saw a group of people that were in a similar age group to them so they walked over, hoping to make friends.

They all exchanged pleasantries and the loudest girl in the group offered them grilled burgers they had just taken off the barbeque.

"This is delicious," Brielle commented. "How is it that it tastes so different than American BBQs?"

"It's the spices, chica," Jose' responded with a wink and a lilt to his accent. "We have flavors in Sao Paulo, yeah?"

"Yes, you do," Emma responded for Brielle, with a twinkle in her eye.

Ever the flirt, she thought affectionately.

The group talked about their different backgrounds and shared their Brazilian culture with the two girls. They laughed and swapped embarra.s.sing stories, mostly to Brielle's detriment.

Someone had brought out a portable radio and started to play the traditional Brazilian beats. The first song started off with lots of tinny drums and a constant beat. Lots of people got up and started moving around on the sand.

Jose' held out his hand to Brielle.

"Oh, no," she shook her head, her bangs swis.h.i.+ng across her forehead. "I don't know how to dance like that."

"Go on," Emma encouraged. "You're here to experience the ins and outs of Brazil."

The way Emma said it made it sound so dirty. But, what the h.e.l.l. She was living on the edge. Brielle took Jose's hand and he pulled her to her feet.

He slowly showed her the movements and she mimicked them perfectly.

As the music started to beat faster, Brielle let herself feel the music and slowly began to loosen up. She shook her hips and then shook her chest. Oh, this was liberating. Her footwork was pretty fancy, too. Not like Jose' but not too bad for a white girl from America.

Emma joined them on the makes.h.i.+ft dance floor with another one of the group and they s.h.i.+mmied away.