by Abby Gaines
She needed to stop spying on her mom, and she desperately wanted to get away from the crowd of people who’d known her father. Ryan was surely too young to remember her dad as anything more than a name in the race program.
She tucked her hand through the arm he offered.
Danger. Her senses flashed a warning, bells went off in her head. Maybe she was especially vulnerable tonight, with these thoughts of the past and of her father, but touching Ryan felt more dangerous than canyoning or blackwater rafting, or any of the extreme things she’d done in her job as an adventure travel guide.
Ryan’s blue eyes darkened, and his other hand closed over hers where it rested on his arm. “Let’s go, before you change your mind.”
Barely able to think, Amber went with him, letting him use his bulk to move her through the crowd that a minute ago had been too close, but that now seemed to part obligingly.
“You look stunning.” He glanced back at her, at her red dress, which made the most of her curves.
She didn’t want his flattery, she only wanted him to hold her close, to protect her. Stupid. He’s a serial flirt, he thinks any woman is lucky to have his attention. Though she had discovered that Libby, the team receptionist, was indeed passionate about recycling—Amber had been wrong to suggest Ryan was using her as some kind of servant.
Several women brushed deliberately against him as they progressed through the room. Vexed that she was no more immune than they were, she said, “How many women have you said that to tonight?”
Annoyance flitted across his face. “You’re the first.”
“If it doesn’t work with me, will you try it on someone else?”
RYAN WAS TEMPTED TO let go of Amber and walk away. What was with the massive chip on her shoulder?
He ignored the fact that with another woman, he might well have given up at such a contrary response, and found someone more willing to play the flirtation game. She had no right to make that assumption about him. But since walking away would just prove her point, he decided to stay.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.
She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, her skepticism blatant.
He steered her into the museum’s internal courtyard, open to the night sky. He figured the concrete bench seat would be cold enough that she’d need to snuggle closer to him. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it down for her to sit on.
“Thanks,” Amber said. “But your chivalry won’t change anything—I don’t want to date you.”
Ryan gave her an injured look. “My mind isn’t a singlegroove race track, you know. I brought you out here so you can tell me more about your travels.”
She laughed; he detected relief in it. “No one wants to hear about other people’s travels,” she said.
“Seriously,” he insisted. “I’ve never been farther than Montreal, for the NASCAR Nationwide Series race. I always planned to travel, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.” He spread his hands disarmingly. “Educate me.”
“Travel is something you have to do for yourself,” she said. He could tell she was trying very hard not to be won over.
“What’s your favorite place on earth?”
“Cappadocia, in Turkey,” she said instantly, as if she considered the question on a daily basis.
“The place with those weird rock pillars?”
She looked insultingly surprised that he knew it. “They have so much history,” she said, “yet they’d be equally incredible if they just sprang up tomorrow.”
She looked incredible, her blue eyes alight with awe, no longer shadowed by whatever had been bothering her. Her mouth was full and perfect. She got under Ryan’s skin like no one he could remember.
He touched her cheek with one finger. Amber stilled. Then she relaxed. “You’re very young,” she said, as if that somehow made him not a threat.
“Very,” Ryan agreed, willing to play along if it meant he got to touch her cheek again. Or more. “How old are you, exactly?”
“I told you. Way, way too old.”
“Hmm.” His hand found the back of her neck, his thumb moved over the tender nape. She drew in a breath. “Pity,” he murmured.
Reluctantly, he made the strategic decision not to kiss her. She’d made it clear she didn’t trust him. Rushing her would reinforce that judgment.
“We should go get another drink.” He tugged Amber to her feet, and noted the disappointment in her eyes. Mingled with relief. Man, this was one complicated woman. Couldn’t she just want to kiss him, the way he did her?
As they headed down the short corridor back to the main room, a man rushed past them, smacking into Amber and sending her crashing into Ryan. The guy—Tony Winters, Ryan saw now—snarled something that definitely wasn’t an apology, and hurried on.
“You okay?” Ryan grasped Amber’s shoulders…and was shocked at the contempt in her eyes.
“What a creep,” she said. “I’ll bet he shoves other people out of his way when he’s on the track.”
Something snapped inside Ryan. “What is it with you?” he demanded. “That was Tony Winters—he’s an accountant, for Pete’s sake, I doubt he’s ever been near a race car.” He released her, took a step back. “You think ‘slick guys—’” he made finger quotes “—like me are secret monsters, you think the gruff, unpolished guys like Brady are secret bullies. Get over it, Amber.”
Her eyes sparked, and her chest rose and fell distractingly. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Oh, yeah, Ms. Independence to the end.
“Can’t you accept that sometimes, things are what they seem?” Ryan thought about her response to his compliment on her appearance earlier. “Not everything has to be a big damn deal,” he ranted. “Sometimes, flirting is just flirting. Kissing is just kissing.”
He realized she wasn’t listening. That her eyes had got hung up on his lips. He took that as a cue to prove his point.
He put his hands to Amber’s waist, lowered his mouth to hers.
Soft, sexy, voluptuous. Kissing Amber was like tumbling into a new realm that made everything in his life to date feel like a mere practice for the real thing. Ryan couldn’t get enough. He teased her with his tongue, felt her response—hesitant at first, then more assertive. She kissed like the kind of woman she was—confident, yet conflicted. It made for delicious torment.
Ryan deepened the kiss. He pulled her against him, reveled in her soft curves. His hands found her derriere. Mmm.
What happened to kissing is just kissing? a tiny voice asked inside his head. Because this wasn’t just anything.
The thought was enough to make him pull back, to remind him of the decision he’d made back when his race results first went south. Rule number one: no distractions.
With great reluctance, he eased away from Amber. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled. She looked the way he’d imagined she would in bed.
He meant to make a snappy comment about having proved his point, but all that came out was a hoarse “Ah…”
Amber stared at him, wide-eyed. Then she whirled away, and almost sprinted back to the party. This was getting to be a familiar sight, Amber running from him. He should be relieved…but he wasn’t.
ZACK HAD INVITED GABY to have dinner with him the night before the race at Michigan, right after a Now Woman’s bachelor contest reader party being held at the track. This time she accepted the dinner invitation—it was either that, or she risked exploding from frustration. Zack had told her to “hold that thought” of the kiss they’d shared at Patsy’s party, and in the days that followed, she’d thought of little else.
But that was as far as things had gone. Zack had been honoring his commitment to the Canine Rescue Foundation, shooting an ad to support its Christmas fund-raising. Gaby had been called in to help a colleague deal with a crisis over another driver.
She’d talked to Zack on the phone, but, chatty guy that he wasn’t, it had been less than satisfactory. So she jumped at the chance of dinn
er.
She wanted off the roller coaster and into the tunnel of love.
From the way Zack had stood up for her in the meeting with Getaway, she figured she didn’t need to worry that he might pressure her into giving up her ambitions. Which meant there was no reason why she couldn’t date him…but it would be best to keep it from Sandra. Because there was definite conflict between Motor Media Group’s priority—keeping Getaway Resorts happy—and Zack’s priority, which was to focus on his racing. Sandra might worry that Gaby would act against the company’s interest. Gaby knew she wouldn’t.
She stood alongside him as he greeted Now Woman’s readers. Anyone would think there was a severe shortage of men on the planet, going by the way some of these women threw themselves at him.
There was, Gaby supposed, a severe shortage of men like Zack.
“Don’t these ladies know you have a race tomorrow?” she asked, as Zack declined what must have been the tenth not-so-subtle invitation to enjoy some late-night activities with a blonde bombshell.
He looked at her in surprise. Then a slow smile widened his mouth. “Maybe I need to make that clearer.”
She gritted her teeth as a bevy of beauties called out to Zack, then rushed over to him. Every single one was blonde, tanned, gorgeous. Was there some kind of cloning program going on? Was it too late for Gaby to sign up?
I don’t need a tan or blond hair to run Motor Media Group, she reminded herself.
She kept a strictly professional eye on Zack while he socialized. He didn’t appear to be flirting with anyone, but how many gorgeous women could one race car driver reasonably be expected to resist?
Maybe she should call the restaurant and asked to be seated next to someone superfrumpy.
At eight o’clock, Zack had fulfilled his obligations and was free to go. He stayed close to Gaby as they walked to her rental car.
“My, what a lot of fans you have,” she said.
He slid her a sidelong glance. “All the better to wow my sponsor with.”
“Hey, you two,” a voice called as Gaby pressed the button to unlock her car. She turned to see Trent and Kelly approaching.
“What are you doing here?” Zack asked his brother. “You’re not a bachelor.”
“Damn right,” Trent said with satisfaction. He kissed Kelly to prove it. “We had a couple of drinks and a pizza in town, took a taxi back. Now we’re headed back to the motor home.”
Zack squared his shoulders. “Well done on qualifying yesterday,” he said. Trent had qualified ninth for Sunday’s race, against Zack’s eighteenth.
“Thanks,” Trent said, surprised.
But Zack wasn’t done. “I heard your car was running loose, which means your qualifying time was quite an achievement. I’ll have my work cut out catching up to you.”
Silence fell, in Gaby’s case due to a pride and tenderness that clogged her throat.
Trent said to Gaby, “Who is this smooth talker and what did you do with my sandpaper brother?”
Zack laughed along with everyone. Kelly grabbed her husband’s arm. “Trent’s going to quit while he’s ahead,” she announced.
“But, sugar, I was just warming up.” Trent’s plaintive protest drew more laughter, a warmth that lingered after the couples had parted and stayed with Gaby and Zack all the way to the restaurant.
They followed the maître d’ past a group of drivers and crew chiefs from Fulcrum Racing, who were engrossed in a heated discussion of track conditions. Zack half looked as if he’d like to stop and join in, but he headed with Gaby for the table they’d been given in the middle of the room. The maître d’handed them their menus and took the wine order. After he left, an awkward silence fell.
Gaby found herself feeling shy. Which was crazy, after all the time she’d spent with Zack recently. She glanced around. The table next to them was empty. No frumpy woman, but no nubile blonde, either.
“Your dress is pretty,” he said.
“Thanks.” Self-conscious, Gaby smoothed the empire line skirt that flared out softly from her black dress’s halter top. It was a flattering style, baring her shoulders and gathering under her bust in a way that emphasized the curves.
Zack leaned forward. “Normally I love my job, but this week I’ve hated everything that’s kept me apart from you.”
Coming from Zack, whose job was his life, it felt like the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Her awkwardness slipped away. “Me, too,” she said. “I came so close to telling Anita to get a grip and look after her own darn client.”
He took her hand, and the simple contact locked them into a world of their own. He smiled, and his eyes lightened. Gaby knew their every fleck and shadow. Just like she knew the contour of the mouth below them, and the strength in the fingers that wrapped around hers.
The restaurant seemed suddenly warmer. With her free hand, Gaby took a drink of her water.
“This thing between us,” Zack said. “I have a feeling it could be serious, Gaby.”
She sputtered on her water. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not…it’s not just a regular attraction.” He sat back while the waiter poured their wine.
They chose their meals from the menu. When the waiter left, she said, “You’re right.”
Since her broken engagement, she’d been cautious. But what she felt for Zack couldn’t be denied. She doused a flicker of concern over what Sandra would think, and touched Zack’s hand. That excited, boyish look she was crazy about came over his face.
Just then someone brushed past Gaby’s chair. Three men whom Gaby recognized sat down at the table next to theirs.
“Hi, Zack,” Danny Cruise said.
With an apologetic glance at Gaby, Zack stood to greet Danny, a friend of his, along with his crew chief and team owner. Danny nodded at Gaby—he was a client of Motor Media Group, so he knew her by sight.
“Madison not with you tonight?” Zack asked. Everyone knew Danny seldom went anywhere without the wife he adored.
Just the mention of her name brought a goofy smile to the man’s face. “She’s back in the motor home, she’s tired out.” Danny paused. “I’m allowed to tell you all now—we’re expecting a baby.”
The casual words didn’t fool Gaby—Danny was bursting with pride. Zack congratulated his friend and did a pretty good job of asking the right questions.
It was a few minutes before he sat back down with Gaby. In the moment of silence before they resumed their conversation, Gaby heard Danny and his colleagues get immersed into a discussion of tomorrow’s race.
“Danny’s always had an uncanny level of focus,” she said.
“Which might explain why he wins more races than I do.” Zack darted a tormented glance at Danny’s table.
“Do you want to go home and work on the race?” she asked.
“I want to be with you,” he said. “Alone with you.”
Alone was a great idea. Gaby was starting to worry that with Danny at the next table, word of her dinner with Zack would get back to Sandra. Not that dinner with a client was a problem. It was the holding hands and the intense looks that would provoke speculation. They had to get out of here, away from Danny Cruise, from the Fulcrum Racing guys who were making more noise than anyone else in the restaurant, from the several other tables she now saw were occupied by NASCAR folk, albeit they were people she didn’t really know. Away from the intrusion of the reality of Zack’s job as a NASCAR driver.
“We could go back to my hotel,” she said.
Zack needed no encouragement. He signaled for the check and refused the waiter’s offer to package up their almost-ready meals. Five minutes later they were out on the sidewalk, where they literally almost ran in to Sandra and Gideon Taney, arriving for dinner.
Zack cursed. Gaby tugged the lapels of her jacket together as she greeted her boss. “This place is popular with NASCAR people tonight,” she said. Calm, professional, nothing going on here.
“They sneaked a bunch of flyers into the motor
home lot,” Taney said. “We’re all too lazy to look any further.”
“Would you two like to join us for a drink?” Sandra asked.
“We have plans,” Zack said.
“We’re reviewing tonight’s bachelor contest event,” Gaby said hastily.
Sandra gave Gaby an approving look. She’d adopted flat shoes for the later part of her pregnancy, and with Gaby wearing high-heeled sandals, they were closer in height than usual.
“I have some news,” Sandra said. “It looks as if I’ll be stopping work sooner than planned.”
“Is something wrong?” Gaby asked, concerned.
Sandra rubbed the small of her back. “My blood pressure’s up. Not too much at this point, but the doctor says it’ll likely go higher. She wants me to stop work in late September.”
The baby was due mid-December, conveniently timed, Gaby assumed, for the end of the NASCAR season.
“Which means,” Sandra said, “I’ll be appointing my successor around the Richmond race, to allow a couple of weeks for handover.”
Gaby did the mental calculation. That gave her three weeks to convince Sandra she should have the promotion.
She traded a glance with Zack. He was already on tenterhooks about the Richmond race, the last one before the Chase for the NASCAR Sprint Cup. Now she was, too.
“We need to go,” Zack said apologetically to the Taneys. He practically hustled her to her car in his haste to get away. She wondered if he felt the same way she did—reluctant to think about the fact that they were each headed for Richmond with different priorities.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZACK HURRIED GABY UP to her hotel room with the desperate eagerness of a rookie to make his first pass. How long was it since he’d felt this excited about kissing a woman? Making love with a woman? Hell, just being with this woman was enough. Now that he thought about it, Zack wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like this.
In the elevator, he caught Gaby in his arms. “You drive me crazy,” he said.
“Good,” she said, with such relief that he laughed.