In High Gear

by Gina Wilkins

  But he put that errant thought to the back of his mind as he turned on the couch to face her fully. “Tanya, thank you. I don’t know how to tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for my mother.”

  She looked back at him with a slow shake of her head. “I love your mother. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being hurt. And I hated what it was doing to you.”

  “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured. It was a thought that had been occurring to him with increasing regularity lately. “But I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for my family.”

  She looked at him searchingly, and he wondered what she had heard in his voice to make her suddenly look anxious. “You would have done the same for me. And it isn’t really over yet. We still don’t know how the blackmailer is going to react when you don’t send the money as he instructed.”

  “I have an idea.” He pulled the computer in front of him again. “It’s been a while since I made a post to my web site. You know how Amy encourages me to write short notes to my fans occasionally to let them know what’s going on in my life.”

  Scooting closer, Tanya asked curiously, “What are you going to write?”

  “Oh, I just thought I’d thank them for supporting me during my win yesterday. And then maybe reminisce about my family’s long history in racing. Maybe mention a magazine article I just came across that talked about our family and even showed a picture of my mom driving past our family home. Amy usually likes to look over my notes before I post them, but I’ll trust you to edit for typos and stuff this time.”

  She smiled. “I would be happy to. You think the blackmailer will check your website?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Especially when I don’t respond to the deadline this afternoon. He’ll want to know if I made the preemptive strike you and I discussed before.”

  “And he’ll find himself checkmated, instead,” she murmured in satisfaction.

  “That’s the idea.”

  She put a hand on his knee. “We did it, Kent.”

  He was forced to swallow past a lump in his throat. “Yeah. We did it.”

  They had made a great team, united against his would-be blackmailer. Now if only they could work together to solve the other problems facing them, he thought, even as he began to type.

  MONDAY WAS USUALLY Kent’s day off during racing seasons, but that didn’t mean Mondays were always free of obligations. A big charity fundraiser had been long scheduled for that evening, and Kent was one of the celebrities expected to be in attendance, along with several other past NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champions.

  They discussed not going, sending an excuse that an emergency of some sort had come up. But both Kent and Tanya quickly rejected that idea. For one thing, it was a children’s charity, close to both of their hearts.

  “Besides which,” Kent pointed out, “if we don’t show up—or if I go alone, when everyone’s expecting you to be with me—the gossip’s going to fire up all over again.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “True. There’s no need to give the loser any more leverage against you. And if we show up at the gala, looking as if we don’t have a care in the world, it shows him even more clearly that we’re calling his bluff.”

  Kent smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit.”

  She lifted her chin in a challenging pose. “Just let him try to beat us.”

  Lifting her hand to his lips, Kent murmured against her skin, “Just let anyone try to beat us. We make a hell of a team, Tanya Wells.”

  Locking her fingers tightly around his, she swallowed a lump in her throat and whispered, “Yeah. We do.”

  Maybe it was that determination not to let the blackmailer get the best of them that motivated them that evening. Tanya and Kent both took special pains with their appearance for the event, Kent dashingly handsome in his immaculately tailored tuxedo, Tanya in a new black-and-silver, floor-length sheath with a long slit up the right side of the skirt. Discreetly studying their reflection in a mirror on an entry wall of the ballroom where the fundraiser was being held, she was satisfied that no one could guess the turmoil they’d been through during the past couple of weeks.

  Was the blackmailer here? She studied the glittering crowd, seeing many familiar faces in the throngs. Was it one of the Murphys? One of the Branch brothers, maybe, hoping to get a leg up in the sport by rattling one of their top competitors? The twisted, obsessed fan of another driver? Or just some opportunist who had come across bits of information he’d thought he could use to help himself to some of Kent’s hard-won earnings?

  “You’re thinking about it again,” Kent murmured, taking her in his arms for a dance.

  She gazed up at him with a brilliant smile for the benefit of anyone who happened to be watching them—blackmailer or mere spectator. “I can’t help it,” she admitted, making sure her voice didn’t carry beyond his ears. “Not entirely. But don’t worry, I’ll play my part tonight.”

  “You’re wondering if there’s going to be another threat in my e-mail box when we get home tonight? An even wilder accusation?”

  Letting her smile fade only a little, she nestled closer to him. “How did you know?”

  “Because I’ve been wondering the same things,” he admitted, resting his cheek against her hair in a tender gesture that made a couple of women nearby sigh in audible envy.

  “Whatever comes, we’ll handle it,” she assured him with a confidence she hoped would prove justified.

  “We’ll handle it,” he repeated. Then added meaningfully, “Together.”

  The song ended and they broke apart, mingling again with the other guests. The programmed portion of the event began with Edward Carlisle, the president of the civic group sponsoring the fundraiser, making a speech of gratitude to the attendees. “Your donations tonight will do so much for the underprivileged children of our state,” he added, beaming as polite applause followed his statement.

  “Now let me introduce some of the beneficiaries of tonight’s event.” Carlisle made a sweeping gesture with one hand and a group of about a dozen children, ranging in age from perhaps five to maybe twelve, all wearing bright red T-shirts with the name of the civic club emblazoned across their chests, came onto the stage. Welcomed with very loud applause, they performed a highly choreographed song-and-dance number that concluded with the older ones holding the littlest kids on their shoulders, arms outstretched as they sang about reaching for the stars.

  There was a lump in Tanya’s throat when the number concluded. Her hands almost hurt from clapping so hard for them.

  “Wasn’t that great?” Still clapping, himself, Edward Carlisle stepped forward again. “And by the way, we have a special request from one of our performers tonight. Juan, would you like to come forward?”

  A shyly smiling little boy of perhaps nine, his straight black hair tumbling into his dark eyes, moved to stand by the man’s side, something clutched tightly in his arms. Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Carlisle said, “Juan, here, is a huge fan of NASCAR champion Kent Grosso. He received a Kent Grosso die-cast car for Christmas, and when he found out Kent was going to be here tonight, he made a special request. Kent, could you come up here, please?”

  With a quick, crooked smile for Tanya, Kent made his way to the front on another wave of applause. The little boy was bouncing on his feet now, gazing up at Kent as if he’d just seen a glimpse of paradise.

  Kent knelt down in front of the boy to bring them eye to eye. “Hi, Juan. Nice to meet you,” he said, holding out his right hand.

  His own visibly unsteady, Juan gravely shook Kent’s hand. And then he held out the colorful die-cast car. “Would you sign this for me?” he asked in a whisper that barely carried over the microphone Carlisle made certain was positioned close to him. “Please?”

  “I would be delighted.” Kent reached into his pocket and drew out a permanent felt-tip marker. He signed the model car with a flourish and then whispered something to Juan that had the boy’s whole face lighting up. T
he boy threw his arms around Kent’s neck with a delighted whoop. Another boy crowded closer and then another, until Kent was almost buried beneath children.

  “Ooh,” someone sighed near Tanya. “He’s so good with children. He’ll be such a good father.”

  Tanya swallowed hard, thinking of how much she wanted to see Kent with his own children. How much she wanted to be the mother of those children.

  A matter of trust, she mused, studying his flushed and smiling face. It all came down to that. Could she trust him wholeheartedly again, despite the way he had disappointed her this time? Could she put her painful memories of Michael behind her and accept that Kent was very different? That the lying had been a one-time thing he now regretted and would never do again?

  She pushed those questions to the back of her mind for the moment, deciding she should probably worry about one problem at a time. First they would make sure the blackmail issue was solved. And then they would worry about the rest of their future.

  THEY WERE BACK AT Kent’s place by midnight. The first thing they did, of course, was to check his e-mail. There was nothing new from the would-be blackmailer.

  “Maybe it’s really over,” he said with a hopeful optimism that made her throat tighten.

  “Maybe,” she agreed, holding her cup of chamomile tea on the kitchen table in front of her.

  He set his own cup down with a forceful thump. “I guess we showed the guy not to mess with us.”

  Running her fingertip around the top of her cup, she asked, “Are you sure we shouldn’t tell the police about what happened? We could take copies of the e-mails to them, ask them to investigate it quietly.”

  Coming from a law-and-order family, her instincts were to inform the authorities whenever someone crossed legal lines, as Kent’s blackmailer had most definitely done. But Kent shook his head. “If a leak got out—and you know it happens—we’d be risking a media circus. Now that the guy knows his game is up, he’ll slink away and we’ll never hear from him again. You’ll see.”

  “But—”

  “The guy’s obviously a coward,” Kent insisted. “The anonymous e-mails, the careful wording of everything, even the relatively small amount he demanded, all point to someone who doesn’t have the guts to take a full-out risk. He’ll cut his losses.”

  “And move on to an easier victim, perhaps,” she argued.

  He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll decide blackmail is not a very reliable way to raise money and he won’t try it again. Either way, I don’t want the police involved this time. Not unless it becomes necessary for some reason.”

  She reluctantly conceded that it was his decision and kept any further arguments to herself.

  They finished their tea in relative silence. Afterward, Tanya cleared everything away while Kent made another computer search.

  By two o’clock in the morning there was still no word from the blackmailer and nothing was on the Internet except news of Kent’s win in California. They found a photo of themselves kissing in Victory Lane with a headline identifying her as Kent’s “long-time girlfriend.” Neither of them commented about that, though Tanya noticed that Kent looked hard it at it for several long moments.

  Finally he turned off the computer with a weary smile of satisfaction. “There’s nothing,” he reported, stretching. “The guy’s obviously slunk away with his tail between his legs.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m right. I have a good feeling about it. Thanks to you,” he added, wrapping an arm around her to plant a kiss on her forehead.

  She looked up at him. “You’re giving me too much credit.”

  “No way. If you hadn’t found that picture, I’m not sure what I would have done as that deadline came closer.”

  She wanted to argue that he’d already known all his options and that it was only luck that she’d come across the old photograph, but he pressed his lips to hers before she could speak. It was a powerful kiss, firm and confident and hungry, enough to make her head spin a little.

  Rising on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw herself into the embrace. Despite everything, she still loved him, still responded heatedly to his every touch. She didn’t have the willpower to resist him now if she had wanted to. Which she didn’t.

  Kent drew back, his eyes gleaming, and cupped her face between his hands. “I think we can forget about that loser tonight,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I think we should celebrate our victory, don’t you?”

  Though she had a sudden, uncharacteristically superstitious fear of somehow jinxing their luck, she pushed it aside and smiled. “I’d like that.”

  “So would I.” He swept her high into his arms in a move that startled her because it was something he’d never done before.

  Laughing and protesting, she clung to his shoulders as he strode forcefully toward the bedroom. “You nut. You’re going to drop me. Or throw out your back or something.”

  “I’m not going to drop you. And I’m certainly not going to throw out my back. How old do you think I am?” he asked with feigned indignation.

  “Just the right age,” she assured him, and then pressed her lips to the vulnerable spot just beneath his ear, making him groan in approval.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THEY WERE BOTH UP AND READY early again the next morning. Tanya offered to assemble breakfast while Kent checked the computer one more time. She had bagels with cream cheese and thinly sliced smoked salmon, served with grapefruit halves, ready when he came in with an almost smug look on his face.

  “Nothing,” he said in response to her silently questioning look as he took his seat at the table and reached for his coffee. “Not a word.”

  She sighed in relief. “Maybe you were right. Maybe the coward has slithered away.”

  “I’m right. Like I said, I just feel it.”

  “So, now what? Are you going to talk to your parents?”

  He chewed on a bite of bagel long enough to make her suspect he was stalling before answering. And then he said, “I’m going to tell them about what happened at State U. As for the blackmail attempt, I’m not so sure. I’ll sort of play that one by ear.”

  “You’re going today?”

  “Yeah. I’ll go for lunch.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  She held her breath as she waited during another hesitation on his part. And then he shook his head. “There’s no need for you to do that,” he said a bit too lightly. “I know you have work to do today, since you spent all day yesterday here.”

  Disappointment flooded through her at the realization that he wasn’t declining out of consideration for her busy schedule, but that he really did not want her to accompany him. Even after everything they had shared last night, he was still shutting her out.

  “All right,” she said quietly, looking down at her breakfast. “I guess I do have some things I should take care of. But you’ll call me if you need me, won’t you?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, sure. But it’ll be fine. And, Tanya—”

  “Yes?” she prodded when he hesitated.

  He cleared his throat. “Would you mind not mentioning any of this to your folks? I mean, it would be pretty embarrassing if they found out I was kicked out of State U, even after all these years.”

  “I won’t tell my parents,” she said, her voice sounding strangely mechanical even to herself.

  They finished their breakfasts—Tanya having to force herself to eat just enough that he wouldn’t question her sudden loss of appetite—and then she prepared to leave.

  To her lingering disappointment, Kent didn’t try to detain her. He drove her home, then walked her to her door, pausing there for a moment with his hand on her arm. “We’ll see each other tonight, won’t we? We have some things to talk about, I think.”

  This time it was she who hesitated, but then she nodded. “I have some stuff to do this evening, but I should be done by eight, if you want to come by then.”

&nbs
p; She didn’t actually have anything to do that couldn’t wait, but she didn’t want to sound as if she was going to spend the day waiting for him to pay attention to her. He didn’t want her to accompany him to the farm? Fine. She had her own life to live.

  She didn’t offer to come to his place, which would probably lead to her spending the night again. He didn’t seem to notice, merely nodding in response to her suggestion before he placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

  “Have a good day,” he said over his shoulder as he moved away. “I’ll see you later.”

  Have a good day? Who did he think he was, her bank teller?

  Annoyed with his thick-skulled behavior, she closed her door sharply behind her. And then infuriated herself by promptly bursting into tears.

  KENT ARRIVED AT THE DOOR of his family home Tuesday afternoon with the feeling that there was a hard knot tied in the middle of his stomach. He really didn’t want to do this, but it was long past time that he did, he told himself.

  He found everyone in the living room. Normally, they would all be busy on a weekday afternoon, especially his parents, but he’d called ahead and arranged this meeting with them. They had been curious, but agreeable when he’d said he needed to talk to them. Now Milo and Dean sat facing him curiously. Nana sat in one corner of the room, knitting, while Patsy sat behind a laptop computer, obviously getting some work done while she’d waited.

  She closed the lid on the computer when he walked in. “What in the world is going on, Kent?”

  “I just need to talk to you all,” he replied, looking from face to face with a painful mixture of love and trepidation. “And what I have to say isn’t going to be easy for any of you to hear, I’m afraid.”

  Patsy pressed a hand to her chest. “I knew it. Something is going on between you and Tanya, isn’t it? Oh, Kent, it’s going to break my heart if you and she split up. I know it’s your life and I want you to be happy, but I just love her so much.”