The Comeback

by Abby Gaines

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and he almost meant it, because Gaby had tried hard, and he had to admit, he liked her. “But the contest isn’t going to happen.”

  Gaby blinked rapidly. Hell, was she going to cry? Zack put out a hand toward her, then pulled it back. Just because she looked touchable, didn’t mean he got to touch her.

  She sucked in her cheeks as if that might help keep the floodgates closed, and it had the effect of pursing her lips. She looked odd. But somehow cute. And vulnerable. He winced. “Can’t you just quit the account, like all the others?” he asked. “Make this somebody else’s problem.”

  She shook her head vigorously, too upset to speak. For Pete’s sake, it was only a stupid bachelor contest.

  “If you’re worried about how it looks,” Zack said, “I’ll tell Sandra you were the best rep I ever had.” Dammit, she looked even closer to tears. One of his previous account managers had been a frequent crier, and Zack had never felt one iota of the guilt that was rending him now. “I’ll tell Getaway, too,” he promised. “It’s the truth, you know. No one else has got me to listen to them the way you have.”

  Gaby’s response was to squeeze her eyes closed and say nothing. Zack was debating whether he should sneak out and let her cry in peace, when Trent came into the gym.

  “Hi, Trent,” Zack said loudly, figuring he should alert Gaby to his brother’s presence. She stiffened, then slowly opened her eyes and released the tension in her face.

  “Howdy.” Trent darted a curious glance at Gaby. “Hey, Gaby.”

  “Trent, how are you?” She sounded her normal self, to Zack’s relief.

  “Couldn’t be better, what with winning at Indianapolis and all.” Trent gave Gaby the dazzling smile he couldn’t seem to hold back, even now that he was married. Zack knew, as everyone else did, that Trent was nuts about Kelly, his wife, who was the team’s sports psychologist. He’d never so much as look at another woman, but that damned smile sure had women looking at him.

  “You had a great race,” Gaby agreed.

  It dawned on Zack that she was unmoved by his brother’s charm. Probably because she was so stressed—her fingers were curled over the edge of the weight bench in a white-knuckled grip. Zack wasn’t about to quibble over the reason for her lack of interest in Trent. His brother had won enough this week, this year, the past few years, without scoring Zack’s PR account manager, too.

  She’s not mine. Hadn’t he just suggested she quit?

  “I hope you’re giving this guy some lessons in how to boost his image,” Trent said to Gaby. “After last week’s headlines, it’ll take a miracle.”

  Typical Trent—when he saw a pot of trouble, he just had to stir it. Against his better judgment, Zack tensed. Although the words had changed since they were kids, Trent had always known how to wind him up. He did it out of kid-brother instinct rather than malice, but when you were as hung up as Zack knew he was…

  Gaby’s eyes had narrowed to slits. “I’m the first to agree Zack doesn’t have your obvious media appeal.”

  Given the conversation they’d just had, Zack figured he deserved that.

  “And he can be a pain in the butt,” Gaby said pointedly.

  Trent chuckled.

  Zack felt his face tighten. Okay, okay, he’d been a jerk. She didn’t need to abandon his side so completely, did she?

  Why wouldn’t she? Dammit, maybe he shouldn’t have rushed into telling her to quit. Now, he felt oddly bereft.

  “That’s why from here on out we plan to emphasize Zack’s hidden depths,” she said.

  Zack started; Trent’s smile disappeared. “Zack has hidden depths?”

  “I don’t expect everyone to be able to see them,” she said kindly. “Zack is…the thinking woman’s NASCAR driver.”

  Trent gaped, then as the implication sank in, colored up in a way Zack had never been able to make him.

  Suddenly enjoying himself, Zack said, “Gaby, I’m sure you intend no disrespect to Trent’s wife.”

  “None at all,” Gaby agreed. “Hidden depths, while undeniably attractive, can be difficult to live with.” Huh, another dig at him. Zack found himself grinning. “Not everyone wants that,” she said acidly.

  Zack thought about all the PR operatives who’d quit his campaign the last eight months. “But you don’t give up that easily.”

  In that moment, he knew for sure she wasn’t about to quit. His heart thudded with the same relief he felt when he passed a car out on the track. Only this felt better. An unfamiliar stretching sensation in his cheeks told him he was grinning wider than he had in a long time.

  “You guessed it,” she said. “I’m absolutely committed to you.”

  The room turned stifling. Zack drew in a slow, measured breath.

  “We’re still talking about PR, right?” Trent asked. He was better than most men at picking up on subtleties.

  “Of course,” Gaby said, her eyes on Zack.

  Trent yawned theatrically. “If you have the patience to find my brother’s hidden depths, you’ll earn every penny his desperate sponsor is paying you.” By Trent’s standards, it was an ineffective shot. He glanced around the gym, and smirked. “Don’t know why I’m here, I’m fit enough already.”

  With a wink at Gaby, he slung his towel over his shoulder and left. Despite the wink, despite the familiar swagger, it was a retreat.

  Gaby had run Trent out of town.

  A curious warmth spread through Zack, starting in his chest, then filling every inch of him. He watched her flexing her fingers, which must now be aching from gripping that seat. She was staring after Trent, as women often did, but she looked more irritated than excited.

  “Did you mean what you said?” Zack asked. “About me having hidden depths?” Because last time she’d said something nice about him, to Chad, she’d admitted it was just spin. That still stung.

  She turned wide blue eyes to him, and nodded. “I also meant it about you being a pain in the butt.”

  He’d didn’t doubt that. “You defended me,” he said slowly. Not that he needed defending, of course. He’d been looking out for his own interests longer than he could remember. But still…

  “Trent was being a jerk,” Gaby said. “Even more than you were.”

  That damned warmth was fuzzing Zack’s brain; he struggled to get a grip on his thoughts. He took a step toward her, not sure what he was looking for, but somehow certain she had it.

  “You’re not easy to deal with, Zack.” Her words came out so quiet, he strained to hear. “But I do think you have some amazing abilities.”

  “Uh…” No one whose opinion he valued had said anything like that to him in years; Zack wasn’t sure how to reply. “Thanks.” Not exactly original, but heartfelt.

  She clasped her hands in her lap. Her fingers were slim, her nails gleaming with a pale polish.

  “Did you mean what you said?” she asked. “About me being the best PR rep you’ve had?”

  “Absolutely.” He nodded for emphasis.

  She shoved a curl behind her ear. It sprang right out again, and Zack found himself moving instinctively to fix it. His fingers tangled with hers, next to her face.

  Gaby froze. Zack registered the brush of that silky lock of hair, the warmth of her fingers. Her breath came faster, but she didn’t remove her fingers from his.

  He wanted to pull her to her feet, to fasten his mouth to hers, to explore…

  Bad idea, Zack told himself. Don’t get carried away, just because she said something nice. Women said nice things to him all the time.

  Yeah, but not like that.

  He let go of her hand, and Gaby looked down at it as if she could still feel the same current that coursed through him.

  “I can’t do the bachelor contest,” he said abruptly. “But if you can convince one of those women’s magazines to interview me, I’ll spend as long you like preparing for it, and I’ll say exactly what you want.”

  She blinked, stared at him, then visibly regro
uped. “Really?”

  He gritted his teeth. “I’ll even take my shirt off for a photo.”

  Her hiccup sounded suspiciously like a giggle. “That probably won’t be necessary.”

  He blew out a breath of relief. “I’d do it, though,” he assured her.

  She looked so happy, she might start skipping around the gym. But she said calmly, “Thank you, Zack.”

  He grunted, already wishing he hadn’t made the offer. Who knew how much time it might take to get ready for an interview like that?

  Still, as Gaby left the room—and dammit if she wasn’t skipping—he couldn’t get too upset. He’d spend more time in the gym, if necessary, and sleep less. He stepped onto the treadmill and set himself up for a punishing hill climb.

  ZACK’S ENGINE BLEW UP during Friday’s qualifying at the Pennsylvania track. Thankfully it happened near the end of his lap, and he was able to coast over the line to qualify thirty-third. Trent, as usual, was in the top ten.

  The team had worked like crazy to install a replacement engine and set it up. They made it, but the mood around Zack’s pit as they awaited the start of the race was grim. He knew the team was taking their cue from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to smile when another major loss stared him in the face.

  It didn’t help that Gaby was bouncing around like an overinflated tire, all happy because she’d suckered him into doing an interview with some magazine. Idiot, he castigated himself. You’re not good at that stuff.

  “I hope you’re a PR witch doctor,” he grumbled to Gaby as he waited next to his car for the national anthem to start. “Because that’s what it’ll take to put a positive spin on this race.”

  “Sorry, but there’s no magic,” she said blithely. “You’re on your own out there.”

  Nothing new about that, Zack thought as he circled the track a few minutes later. For some reason, the thought didn’t bug him, as it usually did.

  Up ahead, the lights turned green—Zack was too far back to see the flag—and he floored the accelerator.

  WHEN ZACK FLEW OVER THE finish line in fourth place after as good and clean a race as a driver could hope for, Gaby whooped as loud as anyone. There had been magic out there, all right, and it had been all Zack’s doing. Getaway would be thrilled. She was thrilled.

  Zack climbed out of his car to the applause of his team. He pulled off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair, swaying slightly as he adjusted to being out of the cockpit.

  “Great driving,” Dave Harmon said.

  Chad stepped forward. Gaby wondered if anyone else saw the way Zack stilled as he looked at his big brother.

  “Chad,” he said, and something in that clipped, masculine syllable tugged at Gaby’s heart. She found herself willing Chad to say the right thing, her mind putting words in his mouth.

  “Nice going,” Chad said.

  It didn’t seem nearly enough to Gaby, but Zack’s shoulders eased, and he and his brother gripped hands in a firm handshake.

  “Our setup was slightly off, the car was pushing in the turns—we guessed the track temperatures wrong,” Zack said. “If we can get a handle on that, we’ll do even better next week.”

  Briefly, Chad’s other hand clasped their joined hands. “Looks like Trent’s buying the beers tonight.” The youngest Matheson had finished ninth.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Zack said. His gray eyes met Gaby’s. “Seems I’m doing my job,” he said. “How about you? Got that interview arranged?”

  Something in the arrogant raise of his eyebrows, tempered by the warmth in his gray eyes, made her want to laugh. Or maybe it was just the general jubilation.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” she said. “Ten o’clock Tuesday morning, your place.”

  She expected him to balk at doing the interview in his home but he merely nodded.

  “We’ll start preparation on the flight back to Charlotte tonight,” she said.

  He squinted a little, but nodded again.

  “Then we’ll spend most of Monday doing more prep,” she continued. She’d gone too far; he opened his mouth to protest.

  “See you on the plane,” she said quickly, and waltzed out of the pits.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A SINGLE INTERVIEW with Now Woman wasn’t as good as the prolonged coverage the bachelor contest would receive in America’s biggest-selling weekly magazine. Not to mention on TV. But as far as Gaby was concerned, it was an excellent step toward her goal of getting Zack into the contest.

  She didn’t tell Zack she was still holding out for that—he’d figure it out soon enough. In the meantime, why ruin what was turning into a productive business relationship?

  Although Zack was engrossed in working with his team on his car setup, he’d kept his promise, and let her call the shots on the interview preparation. They’d rehearsed answers, then she’d fired difficult questions at him in an attempt to provoke him. He was even trying to give answers that were more than the bare minimum.

  The only thing he wasn’t good at was turning on the charm with an interviewer. Though it frustrated her, Gaby found his inability to be shallow rather appealing.

  She had high hopes for this interview, first that he would impress Now Woman, and second that he would find the experience not too painful. Then the next time she asked him to enter the bachelor contest, he would roll over and sign on the dotted line.

  Unease flashed through her as she tried to imagine Zack rolling over for anyone.

  This will work. We’re getting along so well. Zack just needs a little push. She chanted the line for the thousandth time as she pressed the doorbell of Zack’s French-style country home on Mountain Island Lake. Apparently he’d chosen to live away from the NASCAR enclave that clustered around the better known Lake Norman. Chad and Brianna also had a house nearby.

  Zack didn’t answer the door. Gaby glanced at her watch. Nine o’clock, an hour before the reporter was due.

  She called Zack’s cell. When he picked up, she heard a metallic thump, suspiciously like a hammer hitting metal, in the background.

  “Are you at the workshop?” she asked.

  “The guys and I have been working on the setup.” The words were rushed, excited. “We’re this close to finding the problem.”

  Gaby took a calming breath. “You have the Now Woman interview at ten. I’m at your place.”

  Zack cursed. “The thing is, there was more to the car’s tightness last week than just the track temperature. We just haven’t been able to figure out—”

  “You need to be here now,” Gaby ordered.

  Silence. “I can be there in fifteen.”

  “You’re nearer half an hour away,” she said. “I don’t want you killing yourself on the way.”

  “Your concern is touching,” he teased.

  Gaby took it as a good sign that he wasn’t too tense. “Just get here as fast as you can, safely. In the meantime, I need to get into your house to set up for the reporter.”

  “Sure. Best to use the great room, I think. It has a nice view.” He gave her the combination that would unlock the front door, and the code for the alarm system.

  Once inside, Gaby stopped for a moment to admire the coffered ceilings, deep carpets and large windows that admitted plenty of light and made the most of the lakefront setting.

  The room that had to be the great room was to the left of the entryway. It was enormous: not even the huge, overstuffed couches and coffee table the size of a small pool table could diminish it.

  Gaby crossed to the French doors and soaked up the breathtaking view. The lake was a long stone’s throw from the house, the water absolutely still, perfectly reflecting the trees, the jetty, the tied-up dinghy.

  Gaby didn’t have time to admire the outlook. She slipped the DVD she’d brought with her into the DVD player hidden in a cabinet beneath the widescreen TV, and went to make coffee.

  In the kitchen—maple and granite and stainless steel—she tried not to look too hard into Zack’s c
upboards and drawers. The house was tidy, but not overly so. Just how she liked it.

  She’d just filled the coffee press and retrieved cups and spoons when the doorbell rang. Gaby glanced at her watch—the reporter was right on time. Unlike Zack.

  “Zack’s been detained at the workshop,” she explained to Kaye Martin, the reporter, as she ushered the woman into the great room. “He’s on fire about last week’s race, it’s hard to drag him away from perfecting the car for this week. He should be here any moment.”

  Luckily, Kaye didn’t seem perturbed.

  “What’s it like, working with such a hunk?” She examined a photo of Zack with his brothers that sat on the mantelpiece. It was the only photo in the room, and to Gaby it looked as if it was seven or eight years old.

  “Uh…easy on the eyes.”

  Kaye laughed.

  “You must meet plenty of hunks yourself, with the bachelor contest,” Gaby said.

  “Sure do.” Kaye sat on the couch that faced out to the lake. “Unfortunately, a lot of them know just how hunky they are.”

  “You’ll find Zack’s not like that.” As Gaby poured coffee, she willed him to pull up outside right now. As was usually the case when she tried to will him to do something, it didn’t work.

  They drank their first cup of coffee while they chatted about the bachelor contest and the huge hit it was proving with the magazine’s readers. It was getting plenty of coverage on TV and in the national newspapers.

  “Zack should sign on for the contest,” Kaye suggested. “We had another NASCAR Sprint Cup Series driver join up this week and we’ll be making an announcement before Sunday’s race at Watkins Glen. Readers start voting next week, so if Zack wants in, the sooner the better.”

  The truth—that Zack thought the contest was stupid—clearly wasn’t the right answer. “Zack’s well aware of the contest and the great publicity you’re getting, but he’s a naturally modest guy,” Gaby said, and realized it was true. Zack didn’t drop his big win at Daytona into conversation the way Trent would. Trent wasn’t a show-off, but he naturally highlighted his successes.