Dixie wiped the towel across her face again, certain that her cheeks were roughly the same shade as Santa's famous suit. She and Nicky had just gone for a jog around the track itself, which in itself wasn't so bad, distance wise, and was definitely a nice, flat surface.

Until you factored in the oppressive heat of Qatar, while running on asphalt.

Yuck.

Though they'd taken multiple water breaks, and the speed was definitely down to accommodate Nicky's continually healing ankle, they'd made the circuit triumphantly, but were both really glad to be done with that particular exercise.

And now Dixie was heading for a triumphant shower in Cade's coach. Though some of the 76 team stayed right at the track – Cade, Nicky, some of the mechanics – many of the ancillary team members who weren't as urgently or as often needed stayed in nearby hotels. Dixie was staying in the same hotel as Team 76's publicity specialist, merchandise handlers, tire guys and hospitality 'engineers', among others. Everyone she had met associated with the team had been super nice, but right now, she didn't think she could wait to bus back over there before taking a shower in her own hotel room.

Cade had been gracious enough to lend her a drawer to store clothes in and a promise to use whatever she wanted in his coach – water, food, whatever.

She swiped at her face again, a bounce in her steps, feeling energized, despite the heat. It felt good to be fitting in to the swing of things, and to be stretching her muscles, while helping Nicky get stronger and more confident.

She could see the confidence returning to his riding as he went testing on the track, and that made her feel like a proud mama bear, watching her cub take his first steps after hibernation.

Dixie squeaked in embarrassment as she came around the corner of a hauler and saw Javier De Costa standing just a few feet away.

Looking absolutely smoldering in his predominantly blue and black riding leathers, unzipped part way to reveal his smooth chest, his helmet held in one hand.

She had that instantaneous fight-or-flight feeling – turn and run so he couldn't see her, or play it cool like she didn't care that she looked like a sweaty, overripe tomato?

Pride dictated that she keep walking towards him, though it took all her inner strength and confidence.

He glanced at her, and then did a double check, smiling widely, seeming not to notice her sweaty demeanor.

"Dixie Colson," he said with a wide grin. "Trainer to the stars – well, to an almost star. We meet again."

"He's a star," Dixie shot back, unable to stop herself from defending Nicky. "Keep talking like that, and we aren't going to be friends anymore."

Javier gave her an exaggerated pout. "And I so want to be friends. Or..." he said, raising an eyebrow, making Dixie bite back a smile.

"Don't say it," she cautioned, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"Lovers?" Javier teased, and Dixie socked him lightly in the shoulder as he said just what she had predicted.

"Get out of my way, you cocky man," she insisted, but he stepped further into her path, blocking her way towards the coaches and haulers.

"Have dinner with me tonight," he said softly, looking into her eyes. "Please. Let me prove I'm not such a cocky beast."

Dixie sighed. "I look a mess – why on earth would you want to have dinner with me?"

"I have reason to believe you clean up very nicely. And I like your... what is the word? Your spark. Your sparkle... your... spunk. That's it! You're spunky, and I like that."

"You know the English word spunky?" Dixie asked, amazed. "Don't you have enough words and phrases crammed into your brain, language-wise, that you could just jettison that word and meaning?"

"What means jettison?" Javier asked seriously, cocking his head to the side slightly, as though taking the measure of the word.

Dixie laughed, point proven. "Never mind."

"Dinner? My coach? I'll even cook for you," Javier wheedled, the look in his dark eyes making her resolve melt completely away.

"Do you cook well?" she asked, playing for time.

"For you, I will," Javier grinned. "I'll make my specialty, just for Senora Colson. I don't do this often."

Dixie knew his winnings and promotions, endorsements and appearances income since being on the circuit had nearly eclipsed superstar Valentino Rossi's (himself one of the richest athletes in the world), so she had no doubt that a squadron of chefs and sommeliers would be doing the heavy lifting, but she was touched that he would at least offer to do it himself.

"Please?" Javier asked again, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly against his chest. "Let us get to know one another."

"On one condition," Dixie finally relented. "You have to give me really good directions because earlier today I walked into Ben Spies' hauler when he was singing a Justin Bieber song at the top of his lungs. I'm still scarred."

Javier laughed, a genuine, infectious laugh. "It's a promise, mi tesoro."

**

As Dixie knocked lightly, then timidly opened the coach's door at Javier's shouted greeting to come on in, she realized she had been wrong.

Javier stood at the stove of the motor coach, an apron around his waist, stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely heavenly.

He really was going to cook for her, instead of staffing it out.

He looked over his shoulder with a grin before wiping his hands on a nearby towel and smiling at her.

She'd seen motor coaches before, but nothing like this even came close. All chrome and smoked glass, overstuffed sofas and low lighting, she felt as though she'd walked into a movie set, not someone's home away from home. Surprisingly roomy, she noted the sitting area, the dining room table, and further down 'the hall', steps leading up into a bedroom area, a bathroom tucked neatly off to one side.

"Hi," she said, suddenly feeling shy.

"Hello yourself," Javier replied, stepping away from the stove towards her.

"This is... amazing," she said, gesturing around. "And whatever you've got bubbling there smells amazing too."

"And to complete the thought, you look amazing," he said genuinely, kissing her cheek warmly and lingering for a moment, his hand on the small of her back, his fingers warm through the fabric of her silky blouse. She'd spent ages figuring out what she should wear, finally settling on her regular standby, a tailored pair of pants and shimmery top that always made her feel pretty, even on her least glamorous days.

She studied Javier as he turned back to the stove and resumed his sautéing, himself clad in denim jeans and a simple white button down shirt, the sleeves shoved him to his elbows, the top button on the placket undone. Javier was all caramel colored skin and natural confidence; he was taller than most MotoGP riders, and always stood with his back ramrod straight and his lithe body poised as though he were about to spring into action. He had close cropped dark hair and those dancing brown eyes, set off by a wide, white smile.

No wonder every female fan of MotoGP was a fan of Javier De Costa.

And from what little Nicky had said, she had a feeling he was quite a fan of many of those women.

Still, she was here now, alone with him at his behest, so why not set judgment aside and get to know the man for who he was, not who others thought he was.

Seemed the fair thing to do.

"I hope you like paella," Javier said easily, lowering the heat on the stove. "It's my specialty, and I've been craving it, so you are my perfect excuse to put it together tonight."

"I hope I'm not just an excuse to you," Dixie said lightly.

Javier looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes dark and mysterious. "Far from it, mi tesoro, rest assured. Now then, sit down and let me pour you some wine while I finish cooking. While I do that, you can tell me everything there is to know about Dixie Colson, auburn haired beauty and tireless trainer."

Dixie blushed, accepted his proffered glass of merlot, took a sip, and then settled back against the luxurious cushions. "Alright then, what would you like to know, Mr. De Costa?" she asked with a grin. "Just remember, turnabout is fair play."

"I always play fair," Javier teased, and Dixie laughed.

"Hm – that, I doubt," Dixie replied. "But oh, it does make you interesting."

**

Nicky rapped on the door of Cade's coach three times in succession, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for it to open. Eventually it did, revealing a somewhat haggard Cade.

"Dude," Nicky said by way of greeting. "You look like you've been ridden hard and put away wet."

"Conference call with the manufacturer," Cade said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Then emails and phone calls and more emails... it's hard work doing everything for you so you can just ride around in circles a few times every few weeks."

"Considerably less threat of loss of life on your end, though, I would wager," Nicky shot back with a smirk. "Just sayin'."

"Yeah, yeah," Cade said, gesturing inside. "You want a beer or something? Couldn't settle down?"

This was a familiar scene – when Nicky got 'too far into his own head', as he thought of it, during the racing season he would often find himself on the doorstep of his crew chief, who always made him welcome without feeling like a charity case.

Hell, half the season last year he'd slept more on Cade's couch than in his own motor coach.

It didn't sound like home in his motor coach.

It didn't sound like Gamble Ranch, where he always slept best.

"No, no beer, thanks," Nicky said easily. "I was looking for Dixie, actually. I was going to see if she wanted to go for a walk and then watch a movie or something. My ankle feels... tight. Kind of raw feeling, I guess. I thought a walk, or some of her magical stretches, might be the thing to ease it up a bit."

Cade nodded sagely. "And the movie? Therapeutic also?" he asked, his tone serious but his eyes teasing.

Nicky rolled his eyes. "I was going to suggest a movie just because I feel like watching a movie, Dad," he added, with emphasis.

"You'll have to look elsewhere for your movie companion, friend. Dixie isn't here," Cade replied. "I mean, I can walk with you, if you carry me on your back while I sleep..."

"She... isn't here?" Nicky said. "I called her cell and the hotel, and she's not there either. Do you think she's okay?"

Nicky was sure that Dixie could take care of herself in any situation, but on the road, it was always dicey, especially in the Middle East for a woman. Different cultures, different expectations... he didn't want her to be trapped in a situation in a foreign country she couldn't get out of without help.

"I'm sure she's fine," Cade said easily. "Give her a few hours, then try again. I bet she'll be back at the hotel. Knowing her, she's out exploring or something."

"Yeah," Nicky said slowly. "I guess you could be right. Thanks, man."

"You seem awfully... solicitous of her," Cade said, hiding a smile. "You like her?"

Nicky shrugged noncommittally. "She's... you know, she's Dixie. What's not to like. But no, wipe the smirk of your face, it's not like that."

But even as Nicky turned to go back to his hauler, he wondered if Cade believed his words, because he was starting to think he didn't believe them himself.

Nicky decided to take the longer way back to his coach, weaving in and out of row after row of parked haulers and coaches, hearing the strains of televisions blaring, stereos on in different languages, conversation, and at least one heated argument about two stroke versus four stroke engines in the low echelons of racing.

Just as he was nearing his own trailer, he saw the door to De Costa's coach open, and Dixie step out, helped down by a man in a liveried uniform.

Nicky instinctively ducked into the shadows, at once not wanting to be seen, not wanting to see, and yet, unable to look away.

Dixie turned and smiled as De Costa also exited the coach, enveloping her in a long hug and giving her a very deliberate kiss on the cheek. Dixie smiled up at him, and he returned the smile, saying something that made her throw back her head and laugh. She kissed him on the cheek then, before turning and following the uniformed man to a sleek black car. He held the back door open for her, and then closed it when she was ensconced inside. De Costa watched until the car slid noiselessly away, then went back to his own coach, the snick of the lock signaling the end of the evening.

So Dixie and De Costa had... what? Was that a date? Just a get-together? Maybe De Costa needed some training tips?

But Nicky knew he was kidding himself with that one.

It looked like the Spanish playboy and the tiny trainer had hit it off.

Nicky strode back to his trailer and tore open the door, letting it slam shut behind him. There was only one comforting thought it all he'd just seen, he thought sullenly. Well, two comforting thoughts, he amended after a moment.

At least she hadn't spent the night with De Costa – yet.

And his ankle wasn't tight anymore, now that it was the furthest thing from his mind.