Page 18 of Kiss & Collide (Racing Hearts #2)

Paris, France

T he Square du Vert-Galant at the very tip of the ?le de la Cité had been taken over entirely by Vanity Fair ’s production team.

Behind them, at the base of the Pont Neuf, tents housed dressing rooms and hair and makeup.

PAs hustled back and forth, rolling in racks of couture clothes, or ushering the photo shoot attendees into place up at the tip of the island.

Violet watched the whole glamorous event unfolding before her, squeezing her hands together to dispel her nerves. She still couldn’t believe she’d managed to land this for Chase. This was all so perfect , and she desperately needed it to go well.

The spread was called “Young Americans in Paris,” and it featured American notables twenty-five and under from across the spectrum of arts, entertainment, politics, and sports.

Right now, Zuri Clark, the Olympic gymnast, was getting final touches to her hair as a PA spread the skirt of her navy blue dress on the grass around her.

Dev Ahmed, Hollywood’s newest action hero, was standing next to her, getting the bow tie of his tux tweaked.

There was Katrina Howard, prima ballerina; Anson Fitzpatrick, the young novelist; Madison Mitchell, the up-and-coming hot new thing in movies; and Julia Rodriguez, a political activist from Texas.

And in the middle of all this would be Chase Navarro, America’s homegrown Formula One star.

“Hey.”

She turned to look at Chase, just emerged from hair and makeup, and she had to swallow down a little gasp.

They’d put him in a tux, but unlike Dev, they’d left his bow hanging loose, and the collar of his shirt was unbuttoned.

The tux—Italian, expensive—fit him flawlessly.

They’d leaned into the scruff, grooming it, but leaving it there to add shadows to his remarkable jawline.

And the product in his hair had it doing that stand-up-and-flop-over thing that was just … damn.

“You look good,” she murmured. That was a staggering understatement. He was spectacularly hot. For just a second, Violet felt slightly intimidated by him , which was a wild new sensation. What had she created when she turned her sights on Chase Navarro?

“I feel—” He reached for his hair.

“Don’t touch it. It’s perfect.”

He finally cracked a small smile. “Thanks. This is some spectacle, huh?” His eyes swept over the park, the Seine streaming past them on either side, and the banks of Paris. And just like that, he was just Chase again, all unpretentious, casual charm.

“Paris is great,” she said when she’d found her voice again. “One of my favorite cities.”

“Ah … this is my first time here.”

She turned to gape at him. “What? You’ve been living in Spain since you were fifteen and you’ve never been to Paris? How is that possible?”

“Hey, I’m not one of these jet-setting Formula One stars. I’m a scrapper. I go where the races take me. And they’ve just never brought me to Paris.”

“That’s …” She shook her head. “Honestly, that’s tragic, Chase. What do you think so far?”

He grinned. “It’s great. I can see the Eiffel Tower from my hotel room.” He started to stuff his hands in his pockets. It was wildly endearing.

“Take your hands out of your pockets,” she said instead, “you’ll wrinkle.”

“Bossy.” But he did as she commanded, then his expression turned a little devious. “Hey, maybe tonight,” he murmured in a voice so low nobody but her would hear it, “I’ll press you up against the window, so you can look at the Eiffel Tower while I fuck you.”

In an instant, her body was on fire for him.

“You sound awfully confident.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that did something to her deep in her belly. “You gonna come over?”

She hesitated. Her conversation with Leon flashed through her mind. But just imagining him putting his hands on her, imagining him doing what he’d just described, set her on fire. She couldn’t resist that temptation. “Yes.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

God help her, so was she.

“Mr. Navarro?” one of the PAs called. “We’re ready for you.”

He leaned in so he could whisper in her ear, “Keep thinking about it.”

There was little chance of her doing anything else. “Get out of here. Go be pretty.”

He chuckled. “See you tonight, Violet.”

IT TOOK A few hours, but they finished the big group shot that would be the two-pager kicking off the spread, and now they’d moved on to pairings.

Chase was with Madison Mitchell. They had Chase leaning against a tree while Madison reclined against his chest as they both stared at the camera, a picture of sexy rumpled couture.

Madison was beautiful, with huge Bambi eyes, long golden hair, and a killer body.

Her pale pink gown surrounded her like a cloud.

They were amazing together, so much combined gorgeousness they were almost hard to look at.

Madison Mitchell. She was popping off right now, too.

One of those young actors who suddenly seemed to be everywhere.

She’d played somebody’s sister on some cop procedural for a couple of seasons, until she broke out into leading roles a couple of years ago, with a Netflix rom-com followed by a couple of major theatrical releases.

She could be perfect for Chase. Just what Violet had been looking for.

She watched them together for another minute, Chase’s hands on Madison’s waist, her golden hair spilling across his chest, and imagined them as a couple.

It gave her an uncomfortable feeling in her chest … jealousy?

No, no. This was not good.

She smoothed her hair out of her face. She was supposed to get Chase in the spotlight. Well, Madison was the key to that.

With a quick survey of the crowd, she spotted Madison’s PR person, watching the shoot from a few feet away, and casually made her way over to him.

She’d told Chase this sort of thing happened all the time in celebrity circles, and while that was true, she’d never actually set one up herself.

Did you just bring it up directly, or was it all done in coded language, like buying drugs?

“They look fantastic,” she said, keeping her eyes on Chase and Madison.

“They do,” he agreed.

“Hi.” She turned to him and extended her hand. “Violet Harper. PR for Chase Navarro.”

“Cam Medeiros. I’m with Madison.”

She decided on circumspection. “Madison’s having a great year.”

“She is.” Cam’s eyes narrowed as he watched the photographer arrange Madison’s hand, placing it so her fingertips brushed Chase’s jaw. “We’re trying to make the most of it.” Cam hesitated. “Chase is a Formula One driver?”

Violet kept her eyes on Chase, even as her excitement spiked. This felt like the opening of a deal. “He is. Do you follow the sport?”

“No.”

“Very cosmopolitan. Very glamorous. Races all over the world. Wealthy patrons, high-end sponsors. The parties get a lot of attention.” She paused, then glanced at him. “You should come to a race sometime. I’d be happy to set something up.”

Cam rubbed a finger under his chin. Violet could feel his interest. “Thanks. Chase is quite an asset. He’s gorgeous.”

“He is.” She paused briefly before saying, with a slight emphasis, “We’re working on raising his profile.”

“Is that so?”

Almost there. Maybe she should just go for it. Usually she just went for it, and somehow made it work out. Turning to face Cam, she said, “We should think about working on something together.”

Cam nodded. “That could be promising. Let me AirDrop you my contact info.”

Violet pulled out her phone, smiling. Cam’s contact popped up and she saved it, then sent back a message. “Now you’ve got me, too. Let’s see what we can put together.”

“I like the sound of that. Nice to meet you, Violet.”

She pocketed her phone with nothing but cool professionalism, like she did this shit every day, ignoring the twinge in her gut. “Same.”

“I can’t feel my feet anymore,” Madison grumbled under her breath. “These shoes are a size too small.”

“I think my back is fused to this tree trunk,” Chase murmured in return.

“Hang on!” the photographer shouted. “We need to reposition that light.”

He and Madison both broke their pose and stretched. “I had no idea this would be so hard.”

“Try making a movie,” she groaned, rubbing her neck under her hair.

A PA brought them both bottles of water.

“Thanks,” Madison said, before carefully sipping at hers.

At least he didn’t have to worry about smudging his lipstick.

“So where are you from, fellow American in Paris?” she asked as someone ran a comb over her hair.

“I grew up in Chicago.”

Madison perked up. “No kidding! Me too! What neighborhood?”

“My parents live in Elmwood Park.”

She clapped a hand to her chest. “Montclare! We were practically neighbors! Favorite pizza place?”

“Martin’s.”

“Aww, now we’re solid. If you’d said Clyde’s, we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

Chase made a face. “Clyde’s is garbage.”

“See, I knew I liked you.”

She was fun and way more down-to-earth than he’d have expected. Today had been tedious and uncomfortable, but she’d made it bearable. “Do you miss it?” he asked.

“Martin’s? I mean, you can’t get better garlic knots.”

He laughed. “Chicago.”

“Sometimes. I mean, I wouldn’t give up my career for anything, but when I was still a kid in Chicago, everything was just …” She looked out over the Seine. “Simple. Everything was so much simpler. People were easier. You didn’t have to wonder about everyone’s secret motivations.”

“I hear you. People in Chicago love to tell you exactly what they’re thinking.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I actually miss that. LA is … not like that.”

As he knew all too well, auto racing wasn’t like that, either.

The PA returned. “Okay, the photographer’s decided she’s gotten enough of you two. She wants to move on to Dev and Zuri before we lose the light. Let’s get you changed.”

“Gladly.” Chase groaned as he stood up and stretched his back. “Okay, up you go, Cinderella.” He reached a hand down to Madison, in the middle of her pink cloud of a dress, and pulled her up to her feet. “Time to go find some shoes that fit.”

“Gladly. Hey, this was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Good luck with … everything.”

“You, too.”

Violet was waiting outside the tent when Chase finally emerged, back in jeans and a T-shirt, although his hair wouldn’t recover from the product without a long, hot shower.

“You did well,” she said, falling into step beside him. “What did you think of Madison?” There was something off about the way she said it.

“She’s cool. Did you know she’s from Chicago? We were practically neighbors growing up. Can you believe that?”

“Adorable. I might be able to set something up with her publicist.”

“Like what?”

“Like … dating.”

He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Remind me again why you think this would be a good idea?”

Violet looked exasperated with him, which was a face he was becoming well acquainted with. “So you get covered in her media outlets. She gets covered in your media outlets. Exposure. Everybody wins.” She paused. “Look, if I manage to make this happen, it’s a big deal. You should be happy.”

“It just seems weird. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Like, we’re going to keep—”

She threw up a hand to cut him off. “Listen, nothing that happens between us matters. We agreed, right?”

As much as he hated to admit it, that bullshit back in Silverstone with Ian was still eating away at him.

He had no idea how it had resolved. As soon as she got to Budapest, things between them had carried on as if nothing had happened.

She hadn’t mentioned him again and he didn’t feel like he could ask.

So he guessed everything was cool? Although how would he know?

“Sure,” he finally said. “You’re the professional. Whatever you think is best.”

“Great, so let’s get out of here.”

He looked around, taking in the scene.

“Sorry, but I’m not budging until I eat something. I’m starving.”

“Okay, text me when you’re back at your hotel or whatev—Hey!”

She yelped when he took her by the arm and propelled her down the cobbled path next to him. “You might as well come with me.”

“But—”

“Quit being weird, Violet. We both need to eat. We might as well do it together. So.” He looked around. “I’ve never been here before. Where should we go?”

She heaved a sigh, then shifted her bag farther up on her shoulder. “I know a place on the Left Bank.”