But then, as she packed up that Friday evening and prepared to head home, she couldn’t help thinking about Max. He was the only one who knew how much she’d been affected by the failed trip to the doctor and his refusal to reveal the identity of their mother. Not even Suave knew. But Max, he’d been there when she’d broken down in tears.
And now she wished she could see him again. Should she swallow her pride and call? She pondered that for a minute but then she sighed. No. Bad idea. Better to give him time to get over the shock of her bad behavior.
She was climbing into her car when her cell phone rang. She knew exactly what this was about. Suave had forgotten her shopping list again and, as usual, Silken would have to remind her to get the stuff that they kept running out of, like dishwashing liquid, ketchup and fabric softener. Eggs, milk and cheese were no-brainers but Suave could never remember the other stuff.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket and stuck it to her ear. “Hand towels,” she said drily, “and dishwashing liquid and detergent. Oh, and bring me some garlic powder. I used the last of it yesterday.”
“Anything else?”
Silken almost jumped out of her skin. That wasn’t Suave on the other end of the call, it was Max. She laughed out loud. “Max, I’m sorry. I thought you were Suave.” And then, realizing she was on the phone with the man she’d been thinking about all afternoon, her body went warm all over. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he said, and he did sound good. Deliciously so. “What about you?”
He didn’t say more than that but Silken knew what he meant. He wanted to know if she’d recovered from her meltdown at his house.
“I’m fine,” she said, glad her voice had not even a little waver in it.
There was the briefest of pauses and then he asked, “Are you busy this weekend? I’ve got tickets for the NASCAR Sprint Cup in Daytona. Want to come?”
Silken sucked in her breath but she didn’t scream into the phone like she wanted to. Did she ever. “Are you serious? I’d love to. But wait. Didn’t that happen in June?”
“No. The tickets say July six. That’s tomorrow. And,” he said, sounding like he was teasing a toddler with a piece of candy, “one of these tickets has your name on it.”
“God, I would love to,” she groaned, “but that’s all the way in Florida. And it’s tomorrow. I probably couldn’t get on a flight even if I went out to the airport, went down on my knees and begged. Those flights must be booked solid by now.”
“Let me worry about the ‘getting there’ part,” Max said, his voice one hundred percent confident. “Just tell me you can be ready by four o’clock in the morning and I’ll come get you.”
“I’ll be waiting at the door with pom-poms.”
“Fine. Now tell me, would Suave like to come, too? She’s welcome, you know.”
Silken gave a snort. “Suave? At a racetrack? I don’t think so. She’d spend the whole day pining about all the reading time she was losing.” Then a thought came to her. “Hey, you think we’ll see Danica Patrick in action?”
“Absolutely. Probably the most popular female racecar driver in the country? You bet your socks she’ll be there. She draws quite a crowd.”
“And I hope she beats the shorts off all the male drivers. Go, Danica.”
“Yeah, yeah. Save the cheering for when we get there,” Max said drily. “She’s still got Jimmie Johnson and Clint Bowyer to contend with. We’ll see what happens when we get there.”
Silken was ready a whole half hour before the appointed time. Suave was still lost in dreamland. It was way too early on a Saturday morning to wake her just to say bye. The night before, when Silken had told her about Max’s invitation, she’d been excited to hear that Silken would be out of the house for the day. Maybe Suave wasn’t as unaware as she’d thought.
At four on the dot Max buzzed the apartment. “I’ll be right down,” she told him then grabbed her jacket and her purse and flew through the door.
And there he was, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets – his favorite thing to do, it seemed – a beautiful sight for her sore eyes. The last time she’d seen him it had been through a film of tears but now her personal rain had passed and she could see him clearly. And she was enjoying the view.
Max had been looking out over the parking lot and it took a couple of seconds before he realized that she’d exited the building. When he turned and saw her his eyes brightened and his lips widened in a smile. “There she is,” he said, holding his arms wide. “Ready to go watch some fast cars?”
Silken was a bit surprised at his greeting but she did not hesitate. She walked straight into his hug, reveling in the feel of his arms around her, breathing in the woodsy fragrance of his cologne.
Max held her close and he seemed to be holding her just a heartbeat longer than a friendly hug required but then he released her and stepped back. “You look good,” he said, smiling down at her. “Smell good, too.”
“Thanks,” she said, suddenly feeling shy. It was like Max was turning her into a schoolgirl again. A blushing one at that.
After they’d settled in the seat of his Benz they took off for the airport where Max had a private jet waiting. Silken was impressed. She’d never been on a private jet before. But, come to think of it, what else did she expect? The man was a billionaire, after all.
After a five hour trip during which they were served a breakfast of fresh fruit, cheese omelets and champagne, they arrived in Daytona as the morning sun rose high in the sky. The stands were already full of spectators gearing up for the races but that was no problem for Silken and Max since they had reserved seats in the Tower Suites right at the finish line. Another first for Silken, and she was loving it.
And then the races started. Immediately the adrenalin rushed through Silken and after several minutes of sitting there trying to be decent, she hopped up and started cheering for her favorite. Danica tore up the track and Silken couldn’t have been more pleased.