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So I kind of . . . I guess, defied my parents and did my own thing. Even though it was really difficult.”
    She shouldn’t have taken so much satisfaction in the miniscule twitch of his knee against hers, but she did. She felt it as strongly as if he had knelt between her legs and stroked them apart.
    But in this case, even more seductive was the way he was looking at her, as though he was impressed by her decision to make such a big life change. It felt good that someone was seeing her for who she was, instead of treating her like nothing more than a skirt or a coffee dispenser or any other number of menial things.
    “You blazed your own trail, eh? Threw off the expectations and just did it? Wow. That must have taken a lot. I mean, that’s just . . . that’s
really
impressive.”
    His enthusiasm was unmistakable. But now it was also—well, too much. She hadn’t expected him to get this excited about it. It was the kind of excitement and approval she’d hoped for many years to get from her parents, while he was giving it to her after five minutes as though he really meant it.
    But instead of reveling in his appreciation of her accomplishments, now she suddenly felt uncomfortable. Ty was being nothing but kind and supportive to her. She
liked
him.
    She couldn’t allow herself to actually like him.
    Slowly, as subtly as she could manage, she moved her knee away. And immediately regretted the loss of contact.
    “Ty! Two minutes.” A voice from the doorway made her jump. The bald man with the mustache had popped his head in to deliver the warning, pulling her back into reality.
    Shit.
Two minutes.
    She straightened and assumed her most business-like tone, trying to forget the last five minutes as she started up the recorder again. “Pretty much. So.
You
won Rookie of the Year four years back in the Diamond series. You finished last season—your first in the Intercomm Cup—in fourth place. Yesterday, you won the second race of your second season in this series. You’re poised to take everything this year.” She paused. “What will you do after that?”
    “What do you mean? Besides racing?” He was looking at her curiously, his eyes teasing.
    She nodded, but she couldn’t help but wonder,
Had that been the wrong thing to ask?
It seemed almost silly, given the way he was reacting. “It’s just . . . you seem to have been on a mission ever since you got onto the racing scene. I’ve followed you for—a long time. Since your first truck race. It seems like—”
    But as she spoke, his expression changed. The smile faded from his mouth, and the seduction left his eyes. For a moment, he seemed surprised, but then he simply looked . . . sad? Was she reading him correctly?
    And if so, why was she fucking this up so horribly? The one person she’d been excited to interview, and it was an all-over-the-place emotional disaster. Suddenly, she was drowning in panic. After how hard she’d fought for a career in journalism, she couldn’t fail and end up back at home—or worse, at med school—with her tail tucked between her legs.
    She waved her hand in the air, trying to erase her words. “I’m so sorry. I, uh, I’m new at this. I’ll just move on to the next question. Daytona is in two weeks. It’s a fast track and a longer race. How do you think your car will perform?”
    But he shook his head. “It seems like what?”
    She didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. It was where she’d cut herself off. Should she ignore it? Tell him it was best to forget it?
    She was quiet for a long moment, thinking.
    Even worse than him asking her questions. Long silences were death and she still had an article to write about the race. She’d walk away with no material if she kept this up.
    In fact—yep. She could see his handler’s shadow in the doorway. She was running out of time.
    She blurted it out.
    “I’ve followed racing for a long time. Ever since I was thirteen . . . so half my life. You’d just