“What?” Mason cries. “You’re British!”
“That doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with tea, fish and chips, sausage rolls, or mango chutney.”
“You’re secretly American, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Catherine banters back.
Mason takes his leave, heading back over to his engineer to study data. I watch as Catherine’s eyes linger on him for the briefest of moments. And I don’t blame her. Mason is charismatic and good-looking.
Yet I didn’t respond to him at all in the way I’ve responded to Caleb.
Catherine grabs my tote, handing it to me. I thank her for it, and she leads me back to the other side of the garage, where Caleb’s team is working on his car. My heartbeat quickens as I stare at the sleek chrome vehicle. Not because I get to be inside the cockpit, but for another reason. This is Caleb’s car. It’s like an extension of him when he races so fiercely on the track during the F1 season.
It’s him,I think as I stare down at it.
Catherine tells a member of Caleb’s crew that we’re going to briefly film, just a few minutes’ worth, and they back away from the car.
“You can get in, Isla,” she says, standing in front of it.
“Give me a minute to switch out my shoes,” I say. “I brought some ballet shoes, so I won’t leave marks on the car. They’re in my tote bag.”
I move to the edge of the row of monitors, setting my bag down. I carefully slip out of my stilettos and into the ballet shoes, which feel wonderful after walking in the heels all morning. Then I approach Caleb’s car, hardly believing I’m about to get inside of it.
“Okay, I’ll record from the side first, then move to the front,” Catherine says.
I stand at the side of the car, staring down into the cockpit. I’m about to take a step up when I hear a British voice from behind me.
“May I assist you?” the sexy voice asks.
And I turn around and find myself face to face with Caleb.
But it’s not just Caleb.
It’s Caleb in his sleek black-and-white racing suit, unzipped and hanging off his hips. His fireproof undershirt is visible, with the big Collings Motors “CM” on it along with sponsor logos. His black hair is tousled, raven stubble shades his jawline, and his blue eyes are lasered in on mine.
I gulp as my heart rate quickens.
I know I just saw Mason in the exact same suit, worn the same way. It did nothing for me.
But seeing Caleb in his racing suit like this? Next-levellethal.
I know I’m in serious trouble now. Because it’s going to take everything I have to fight my growing attraction to this man.
Chapter Seven
I stare up at Caleb, my throat dry.
Then, remembering I’m being filmed, I snap back to being a content creator. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Caleb extends his hand to me, and I take it, noticing how large it is compared to mine. It’s warm and rough and deliciously masculine.
I step up onto the chrome car, and Caleb’s hand shifts lightly to my hip.
OH MY GOD.
I can feel the heat through the fabric of my jumpsuit, and I grow hot all over.
“Okay, you’re going to put your foot there,” he says, and I quickly try to ignore the fact that I like the way his hand feels on my body.