Right Before His Eyes

by Wendy Etherington

  “You bet.”

  “I need mascara and lip gloss, and I’ll be ready.” She rushed into the bedroom, returning a couple of minutes later. “All set,” she said, grabbing her purse off the coffee table.

  He let his gaze rove her from head to toe. Again, a Double S polo and jeans had never looked so remarkable. “How am I going to keep my hands off you all day?”

  She glided her hand down the center of his chest. “You should have brought the motor home—convenience and privacy.”

  “Good point.” He grinned as an idea occurred to him. “But that’s not the only place we can be alone.”

  “You want to make out between the haulers?”

  “No, inside one of them.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll show you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “GIL, ARE YOU SURE that door’s locked?”

  He gave her a “Mmm” that Sheila took to be a yes and continued trailing his lips along her neck.

  The race had reached the halfway point, and though all four of the Double S cars were still in the hunt, Bart Branch was the class of the field.

  Surprisingly, Gil didn’t seem too upset.

  He’d been attentive and caring all morning, patiently answering her many questions. Every time he had to leave her side, he made sure somebody else was watching out for her.

  She’d spent the race on top of the war wagon behind Rafael’s pit box. His crew chief, Denton Moss, sat in a swivel chair right next to her, so she got to witness every intimate detail of the team’s fight to win. Gil even provided a set of headphones so she could hear Denton and Rafael’s radio communications.

  The perspective was completely different from the one she’d had in the grandstands, but just as exhilarating.

  Eventually, though, the heated glances between her and Gil had gotten to be too much, and he’d led her into Rafael’s hauler, down the narrow hallway of equipment lockers and past team members, straight to the back, where there was a small office containing a computer station, a love seat and a couple of folding chairs.

  Gil’s mouth found hers, and she breathed in his familiar taste and scent. She couldn’t count on his attention and touch for long, but she wasn’t about to squander a single moment.

  When she ran out of breath, and her head was ready to spin off her shoulders, she broke away, leaning her forehead against his. “Are you prepared for Bart to win?”

  “Three and a half races and you’re the expert now, are you?” He kissed her cheek. “Race isn’t over till the checkered flag waves.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “You do want one of my guys to win, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but I don’t see anybody catching the No. 475 car.”

  “You don’t, huh?” Levering them off the sofa, he swung her into his arms, then set her on the floor. “How about a little wager?”

  She didn’t have much cash to bet with, but noticing the speculative look in Gil’s eyes, she had the feeling money wouldn’t be required. “What’re the stakes?”

  “One of my cars wins and you have dinner with me every night this week.”

  “Hang on. I have to run the diner. I can’t go skipping off every night at dinnertime.”

  “You don’t skip, and I’m willing to eat at the diner. I’m just asking you to take an hour’s break to have it with me.”

  Staring at Gil across the table wasn’t exactly like losing. “I can do that. Now, what do I get if Bart wins?”

  “You get mine and Marley’s expertise in finding somebody you can hire to help manage the diner.”

  Sheila’s mood went from teasing to ticked in the space of a heartbeat. “I manage the diner just fine.”

  “And work yourself to death. You at least need to have somebody you trust to lock up at night. You can’t keep up this pace.”

  “I have Mellie.”

  “Who has a young child to raise. She can’t take on this kind of responsibility right now.”

  She acknowledged the undeniable truth of that, but her temper still hummed. If Gil thought he was going to breeze into her life and take over everything, he was greatly mistaken. “When did you cook up this idea?”

  “It’s not mine. It’s Marley’s.” When she looked skeptical, he said, “Ask her.”

  Marley and the other Tarts had been trying to convince her for months to hire an assistant manager or promote one of the waitresses.

  Financially, she could afford to do so, but she wasn’t as willing to part with the control as much as the money. Besides, working herself to exhaustion kept her from thinking too much about Gil.

  “Fine. If Bart wins, I get your expertise.”

  “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Maybe you’re worried I’m trying to control you and your business?”

  Surprised, her gaze jumped to his.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You probably don’t believe this, but I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the last week. I’m not trying to mess with your independence. I’m just concerned about you.” He kissed her forehead. “I want you to be happy.”

  She laid her cheek against his chest. This made her happy. Just being with him, feeling his arms around her.

  Unfortunately, though, he was wrong.

  He didn’t know her at all.

  ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT, Sheila called Mellie and assured her she was on her way home. She’d promised her waitress Monday night off, and she was glad Mellie and Bart had something to celebrate.

  When her love life wasn’t such a muddle, maybe she could probe Mellie for more details about exactly what was going on between those two.

  “When do you want to start interviewing?” Gil asked her.

  Sheila glanced at him, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. It bugged him that her prediction about Bart winning had come true, but the Double S teams finished fifth, seventh, tenth and eighteenth, so it was a good day even without the win Rafael needed so much to push him past Bart in the championship standings.

  “I’d like to talk to my waitresses before I go to outside people,” she said.

  “Why don’t you let Marley find a few candidates? They’ll give you a comparison to the ones you already have in-house.”

  “Okay.” She turned her head to watch the Texas landscape fly by. Was she surrendering too much of herself or was she nuts to not take the advice of a man as successful as Gil?

  He laid his hand on her thigh. “Are you okay?”

  Sighing, she linked their fingers and dug deep for a smile. “I’m great.”

  But, really, she wasn’t.

  Their weekend was ending, as it had to. Back to real life where Gil was megarich NASCAR team owner, and she was plain ole Sheila, serving meat loaf and mashed potatoes all day and night.

  Guilt was also eating a hole through her happy fantasy.

  How long could she really expect to keep lying to him? How long before he demanded answers about the bad stuff in her past? He was an astute man, who knew another man had betrayed her. How could she reveal the extent of that betrayal, and the consequences she’d paid as a result?

  Raised in his perfect, privileged world, he’d never understand how she could have gone to such a dark place in her life.

  “I need to go to the diner when we get back,” she said once they were airborne and the worst of her flying nerves had settled.

  “I’ll take you.”

  She shook her head. “I need my car. I’m staying till closing. Mellie needs a break.”

  “Then I’ll come back to get you at midnight. I don’t like you driving by yourself so late.”

  No way was she surrendering everything for him. He wasn’t going to be around long enough to rely on, even if she was tempted to yield control of her life. Which she wasn’t. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Gil. I don’t need your protection.”

  “Don’t need or don’t want?” he asked, seeming undaunted by her angry tone.

  “Both.”
r />   “But I like taking care of you.”

  “I’ve made a mistake in letting you. That’s not me.”

  “It could be, if you trusted me more.”

  She looked away from the longing in his eyes. How could she trust him when she couldn’t offer him the same courtesy?

  “How about a compromise?” he asked. “I’ll take you to your apartment so you can get your car, but I’ll still come back to the diner later and follow you home.”

  How much longer would she have him? How much longer would he care? Time ticked relentlessly away on their bond, and she couldn’t have denied the opportunity to be with him any more than she could having willingly stopped breathing.

  “That would be nice,” she said finally, watching brightness fade from the sky and hoping that wasn’t an omen.

  He gripped her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Hey, I’m not losing you, am I?”

  “No.” She turned back to him. “I’m just fading a little. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “And any time you want to not get sleep again, you just let me know.”

  She smiled. “Guaranteed. But I’m going to need coffee.”

  Naturally, he got her a cup of coffee.

  By the time he dropped her off at her apartment with a lingering kiss and promise to see her later, it was after 9:00 p.m.

  She was welcomed back at the diner as if she’d been gone three months instead of three days, which she supposed was fair. She’d never left her business for so long.

  Mellie was sure she had a tan, no matter how often Sheila told her she’d diligently worn sunscreen every day. Privately, she didn’t want to acknowledge the glow Mellie noticed.

  The glow was Gil.

  Somehow, saying aloud how much things had changed between them seemed like a jinx. But as she fell into the rhythm of serving customers, the surreal quality of the trip fell away, regardless of how much she wanted to hold on to the dream.

  The diner was where she belonged. Not in private jets, luxury hotel suites or a plush bed with an attentive lover.

  Yet when that lover showed up at midnight, following her home to make sure she was tucked in safely, she invited him to do the tucking personally.

  Maybe surrender wasn’t such a lousy idea after all.

  GIL MIGHT HAVE LOST THE BET over the Texas race, but he won anyway.

  He and Sheila were planning to have dinner together every night. He even snuck in Chinese takeout on Monday, which they ate in the back room and gloatingly assured everybody who popped in to investigate the unusual smells that they were imagining the scent of soy sauce and ginger.

  While he also convinced her to interview some of the people Marley recommended she hire, in the end, she promoted Louise to part-time assistant manager. She was still watching Lily until Mellie could make new arrangements.

  “Thank you,” Sheila said suddenly to him as they shared pie and coffee in the back room on Thursday night. “Promoting Louise has been the best decision I’ve made in a long time.”

  “She’s only been on the job a day.”

  “But she’s so happy. I swear the woman is floating through her shifts.”

  “Give her a week running your insane schedule, and she’ll be begging for mercy.”

  “There’s nothing insane about working hard. You do it.”

  “Yeah, but I’m stronger.”

  “Because you’re a man?” she asked after a significant pause.

  Oops. He’d gone down the wrong road. This was a common problem with Sheila. She was a challenging woman, and any attempt to help her—she would say wrestle control from her—was usually met with a fierce stare from those beautiful brown eyes.

  “No, not really,” he said, scrambling to cover his blunder. “Gender doesn’t really have a place in working hard, does it?”

  “I don’t think so. But if you want to make comparisons, you could equate stronger to bigger.”

  “Yeah, that’s—” He stopped, patting his stomach, which he kept trim through disciplined diet and rigorous exercise. The months wooing Sheila had packed on a couple of pounds. “And getting bigger every day thanks to this pie you keep pushing on me.”

  “Any time you want a grilled chicken salad, you just ask.”

  “How did we go from discussing your diner to my waistline?”

  “You did that all by yourself.”

  He supposed he had. “My point about Louise was that she’s nearly fifty and—”

  “You’re over forty.”

  He leaned toward her, flicking his finger over the impish dimple in her chin. “You have a problem with my stamina?”

  Grinning, she pulled his pie plate in front of her. “No, but I don’t have a problem with my waistline.”

  “Louise is nearly fifty, while you are younger and have a supportive boyfriend to pick you up off the floor at the end of the night.”

  Her eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”

  “Yes.” Realizing he’d dropped that in and hoping Sheila wouldn’t give him a hard time about it, he rose and crossed to the cooler he’d brought with him. “One who brings you champagne and chocolate, by the way.”

  Reflecting on the rewards of spoiling Sheila, he set a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries on the table. He wondered if there would ever come a time when she’d stop being surprised by indulgent gestures.

  Maybe not. But if she did, he’d certainly miss the pleasure of her shock, the slowly dawning knowledge that somebody cared about her.

  He popped the champagne cork—quietly so the entire diner wouldn’t come running for a taste—then poured out two servings into crystal flutes he’d also brought. “See the rewards of dating me?”

  She took the glass, then tossed back the entire contents.

  He poured more and sincerely hoped Louise was ready to jump in with assistant-manager duties, since her boss was likely to be too dizzy to go back to work anytime soon.

  “Problem?” he asked, even though he was well aware of the problem.

  Her brown eyes found his and locked in. “Boyfriend?”

  “Not a fan of the word? How about significant other? Exclusive date guy? Lover?”

  Her gaze roved him, leaving heat in its wake. “You’re not much of a boy.”

  “Glad you noticed.” He tapped his glass against hers.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow for Phoenix, and I wanted to make some things clear before I go.”

  “Clear would be good,” she said, still looking stunned.

  Focusing intently on her flushed face, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’m completely, utterly crazy about you.”

  “But you—”

  He stopped her with a kiss.

  She leaned in to him, and the sense of rightness invaded him as it did each and every time he saw or touched her.

  There was so much between them. If only he could get her to realize it.

  When they separated, he took a second to stroke her cheek with his thumb, but he knew he had to get it all out before she started asking questions or he got distracted by the heat pumping through his veins.

  He took a deep breath and rushed ahead. “I want us to be together every moment we can, and while I’m gone I don’t want you, well, getting lonely and deciding some engineer from PDQ Racing is pretty cute, and he wants to invite you to dinner or a movie or—” He stopped, not wanting to think about any other or situation.

  “You’re asking me to go steady?”

  The old-fashioned term had hope and relief washing over him. Leave it to Sheila to cut to the heart of things.

  “Definitely.”

  Her gaze searched his. “You’re really great, and I love being with you, but I’m not sure we—”

  “Gil, my darling, what are you up to?”

  At the sound of the Southern feminine drawl, Gil turned slowly toward the doorway. There stood a familiar, dark-haired figure wearing a deep green suit with white fur trim around the collar.

>   Fake, no doubt. She was a staunch animal-rights supporter.

  “Mama, what are you doing here?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  VICTORIA CHANCELLOR SIZEMORE was a force of nature.

  Trim, fit and beautiful at sixtysomething—though that was a guess, given Gil’s age. She looked a decade or two below that.

  Though she’d been nothing less than gracious during the introductions, she refused her son’s offer for a seat at the table and instead chose to wander around the room. Sheila didn’t see how this confident woman could be nervous, so she decided Victoria was stalling.

  “How did you know where I was?” Gil asked her.

  “Marley told me you’d been spending a lot of time here. And when I arrived, a helpful man named Al told me I could find you in the storage room.” She raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Odd place for a date, isn’t it?”

  Sheila had no idea if this question was aimed at her or Gil, but she had no intention of answering regardless. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her heart was pounding. She felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

  With a sleek, dark cat on the loose nearby.

  Gil’s cautious gaze tracked his mother around the room. He, too, seemed to feel the tension and had decided this unexpected appearance wasn’t a positive sign. “Not really.”

  “How nice. Sheila, I understand you’re from Florida.”

  She did? How?

  “How did you know that?” Gil asked before Sheila could.

  Victoria looked startled for a second. “Marley must have told me. You are, though, right?” she added, looking at Sheila.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Lakeland?”

  Something hard curled in Sheila’s stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Born Sheila Elaine Trueblood, December 2, 1981?”

  Gil rose slowly from his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know you’re always welcome to visit me, Mama, but I don’t see any reason you need to interrogate my girlfriend. What’s this about?”

  Victoria’s head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “Girlfriend?”

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, glaring at her.

  “If you’d listen to me every once in a while, I wouldn’t have to be. But a mother has to do everything in her power to protect her son.” She reached into the glossy handbag dangling from her shoulder and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Your girl—” She stopped, clearing her throat. “Your lady friend has a record.”