Sure. He’d be fine as long as he concentrated on the smell of burnt rubber instead of the delicate hint of gardenias that rose from her skin. No problem, as long as he ignored the feel of her arm brushing against his or their hips bumping as they shifted to follow the action on the track.
Why had he thought that time apart would have dulled his reaction to her? “Yeah,” Jake said. “Kent’s a decent guy.”
She tapped her fingernail at the card in the plastic holder that hung on a lanyard from Jake’s neck. His pass was good for the season, not just one race like Becky’s. “You’ve got no idea how lucky you are, being related to Patsy,” she said. “You get to do this all the time.”
“The credential isn’t only because I’m family, it’s because of the case Dean and Patsy hired me for. Right from the start that anonymous blogger claimed Gina was close to NASCAR. Racetracks are good places to gather information, so the Grossos made sure I’d have full access.”
“I’ve followed NASCAR all my life. That’s another point about me that fits with Gina.”
“Along with most of the crowd in the stands.”
Her finger stiffened against his chest. “Don’t start on that again, okay? I don’t want to have to hit you.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Hit me?”
“I got your message loud and clear weeks ago. I’m not assuming anything about being a Grosso. I know nothing’s certain until the test results come through. I’m just making the most of the circumstances.”
“You’re hoping, though.”
“Well, of course, I’m hoping. That’s the only reason I came to you in the first place. Now that you found those Fourth of July pictures of me, I’ve got even more reason to hope.”
“I’ll return that box of photos to you when we get back to Charlotte. We could swing by my office on the way from the airport if you like. It won’t be much of a detour.”
“Thanks, Jake. I’d like to see them, considering how important they might turn out to be. It’s funny, though.”
“What is? The pictures? Not more than a lot of the others I saw in that box.”
“No, not the way my mother dressed me. I mean the fact it was a photograph that tipped the scales for you with this investigation. Sometimes it seems I’ve lived my whole life through a camera. It’s as if part of me only exists in pictures. It’s just…strange.”
“Is this about your job? I thought you liked modeling.”
“Sure, but all along it’s only been a means to an end. I started it because I wanted to find my family.” She laughed softly. “It’s kind of ironic that it could be a photograph that does bring me my family in the end.”
“Becky…”
“Don’t say it, Jake.” A lock of hair slid out from beneath her hat brim to dangle beside her eye. She blew it aside. “You know, too many cautions in a race can get tiresome after a while.”
“Maybe, but they’re the only way to clear the track to make sure no one gets hurt.”
“That’s just it. At some point, the action has to be allowed to get going again.”
“Unless you’re driving, the action’s out of your control.”
“So, to stretch this metaphor even further, who’s driving? You?”
“The lab techs. My job’s over.”
She parted her lips as if she was about to make another retort, then paused to study his face. “That’s right. Unless the test results show no match, your job’s over.”
“Right.”
“Then why are you here?”
He gestured toward the conga line of cars that was passing in front of them. “I’m watching the race.”
“No, I mean why are you here with me?”
“You know why. It’s so no one questions why Kent got you a pass.”
“That’s a pretty thin excuse, Jake. You know what I think?”
“What?”
She spread her fingers over his chest and leaned toward him. “I think it’s because you missed me last week as much as I missed you.”
Smart woman, he thought.
This was where he should lie. Tell her that he hadn’t thought of her at all except in his capacity as an investigator. Do the noble thing and distance himself so he didn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. Claim that his heart hadn’t leaped at his first sight of her and pretend that her gentle touch on his chest wasn’t doubling his pulse rate.
She held his gaze, waiting for a reply.
Despite his best intentions, the lie wouldn’t come.
“Hey, Becky!”
Becky dropped her hand and turned toward the voice. A young, dark-haired woman waved as she approached from one of the other haulers. Becky waved back. “Hi, Sarah! How are you doing?”
“Great.” The woman smiled a greeting as Becky introduced her to Jake as Sarah Reynolds. “This is some season so far, isn’t it?”
“That’s for sure. No shortage of excitement.”
Sarah glanced around. “So you’ve finally gone over to the enemy.”
Becky laughed. “You know me. I’ve always rooted for the driver who’s the most fun to watch.”
“That’s why they keep me hopping,” Sarah said, moving away. “My job is never done.”
Becky waited until the woman was out of earshot before she returned her attention to Jake. “Sarah’s Trey Sanford’s P.R. rep,” she explained.
“What did she mean about you joining the enemy?”
“We met last year when I was watching from the Sanford hauler. Trey Sanford had gotten me a pass.”
“How do you know Trey?”
“We went out a few times.”
“You told me you’re not dating anyone.”
“I’m not. Trey and I stopped seeing each other months ago.” She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. The stray lock of hair slid over her eye again. “Does that bother you?”
“What? Why should it?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous?”
Did the urge to clamp his arm around her, hold her to his side and growl at any man who came near her count as jealousy? “I’ve got no right to be jealous.”
“Why’s your cheek twitching?”
He breathed deeply a few times and made an effort to relax his jaw. “It’s not.”
“Maybe you believe you should protect me from any man I might feel interested in.”
With the tip of his index finger he brushed her hair away from her eye. “That would be unreasonable. I’d think that most women your age would be interested in a handsome and fit young man who does something exciting like race cars for a living.”
“That’s what I thought, too, at first.”
“Then what happened? Why did you dump him?”
“No one got dumped. It was mutual. Neither of us felt anything special.”
Yes! he thought, grinning inside. “That’s a shame,” he deadpanned.
“Oh, really? Then it wouldn’t bother you if I decided to leave you here and went trolling around the track for someone else?”
He knew she was baiting him, and it was working. He couldn’t even think of some other man standing this close to her, inhaling her scent and feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. Man, he had it bad. He eased her stray hair back under her hat brim, then cupped her face with his palm. “Is that what you want to do, Becky?”
“There are a lot of things I want, Jake. Finding my birth family is my priority. Finding a man wasn’t high on my list. And even if I did want one, you’ve done an excellent job of pointing out why he shouldn’t be you.”
“Did it work?”
She sighed and pressed her cheek against his hand. “No.”
If he was smart, he would stop this now. Any relationship between them couldn’t go anywhere. He’d warned her. He’d done his best to warn himself, too.
But, hell, he was only human. He’d held off while he was investigating her, but now that he wasn’t, he didn’t think he could fight this attraction anymore. So
what if they only spent a few months together, or a few weeks? As long as neither of them had any illusions, what harm could it do? He stroked his thumb along her cheekbone. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah. I did miss you, Becky. I thought about you the whole time you were gone even though I shouldn’t have. The truth is, if Kent hadn’t given you that pass, I would have found some other way to spend the day with you.”
She smiled. “So is this a date?”
“I guess it is.”
“I’m glad.”
“You shouldn’t be. This only goes to prove I’m not a nice guy.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
There was a sudden roar of engines from the direction of the track. The debris had been cleared, allowing the cars to resume the race. “Hey, look,” Jake said, raising his voice over the increased noise. “There’s the green flag. The caution’s over.”
She didn’t glance at the track. “It’s about time.”
THE GRANDSTAND had emptied hours ago and the haulers had left the racetrack in a gleaming, two-by-two convoy, yet the infield wasn’t yet empty. The air was ripe with the smell of beer, grilling meat and the muggy heat of a July night. Warmth continued to radiate from the ground, as well as from the barbecue that had been set up outside Dean and Patsy Grosso’s luxuriously spacious motor home. The toe-tapping beat of country music underscored the sounds of lively conversation from the fair-size crowd around the food table. Instead of packing up and clearing out as soon as the race ended, the Grosso family, along with most of the Cargill-Grosso team that had worked the race, were letting off steam.
Ice cubes rattled as Jake dug through the bottom of one of the coolers beside the picnic tables. He came up with a club soda, wiped the can on his pant leg and handed it to Becky. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a beer?” he asked, fishing out a can of beer for himself.
She popped the soda open and took a long drink. “Not if I plan to have some of that sausage. It smells too good to pass up.”
“Glad to see you don’t stick to rabbit food all the time.”
“I tried, but lettuce doesn’t barbecue well. I found that it tends to fall through the grill.”
Jake laughed, and Becky felt a surge of warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. She had smiled so much today her cheeks were getting sore, yet she couldn’t seem to stop. Watching the race with Jake had been wonderful. He was extremely knowledgeable about all the teams, not only Cargill-Grosso, and she had seen that he’d been into the action as much as she had. She couldn’t remember enjoying a race more.
Still, it hadn’t only been the fact that Kent had finished in second place that had made her this happy. It was because she and Jake were together.
Something had shifted between them as they’d shared the excitement of today’s race. Not that their priorities had changed—they’d both been up-front with each other about what they wanted. She suspected they’d been overreacting when they’d worried about where this attraction might lead, or whether it would lead anywhere. After all, she’d just had a great time watching the race. Now she was having a good time with a man she liked, so what harm could that do? Jake had been true to his word when he’d said he wanted to spend the day with her. And so when he’d headed for the Grossos’ motor home at the track for their postrace barbecue, he’d invited her along.
Well, not immediately. He wouldn’t have been Jake if he hadn’t been concerned about her feelings over the prospect of meeting the rest of the Grossos. She’d pointed out that she’d already met Kent, and that they’d already mingled with most of the Cargill-Grosso team, so going to the family barbecue as Jake’s date wouldn’t be that big a deal. She’d reasoned that if it turned out she wasn’t Gina, then at least she would have had the chance to meet the rest of the members of a legendary racing dynasty. Any fan would jump at an opportunity like that.
And if she did turn out to be Gina, then Jake’s caution would be moot anyway. These people would be her family. She would be spending as much time with them as she wanted.
What was there not to smile about?
“You look familiar. Have we met before?”
Becky turned and found herself face-to-face with a dark-haired, middle-aged man. He was slightly shorter than her, although his broad shoulders and self-confident posture gave him a presence that made him appear taller. She knew who he was—she’d seen Dean Grosso’s face countless times on television and at a distance on the track—yet they had never met.
At least, not that she remembered. They might have met thirty-one years ago, though. In the delivery room at a Nashville hospital.
This man could be her father.
Becky felt Jake’s arm settle around her shoulders. His touch steadied her enough for her to smile and extend her hand. “Hello, Mr. Grosso. I’m Becky Peters.”
He took her hand in a firm clasp while he studied her face. “Hi, Becky. Call me Dean.”
“Becky’s a friend of mine from Charlotte,” Jake said. “We were watching the race together.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I came along to your barbecue,” Becky added.
“No, of course not. You’re more than welcome.” He glanced at Jake. “My wife’s always trying to get him to bring a date. It’s about time.”
“Funny, I said that to him, too,” Becky said.
Dean returned his attention to Becky. His forehead furrowed. “So, have we met before, Becky?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Then you must look like someone I know. I’ve heard people say that everyone has a double somewhere.”
“You might have seen Becky’s picture,” Jake said. “She’s a model.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“There are ads all over the place with Becky modeling blue jeans.”
“I guess that explains it. You’re certainly lovely enough to be a model, Becky.”
“Thank you. All the credit for that goes to my parents.”
A trim, blue-eyed woman moved to Dean’s side and slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. “Did I just hear you calling someone lovely?”
Even if Becky hadn’t recognized the woman’s face from NASCAR coverage, she would have known this was Patsy Grosso by the way she fit so perfectly next to Dean. The couple had gone through a rocky period in their marriage but had reconciled last year. It was obvious by their body language they adored each other.
Becky’s adoptive parents had broken up more times than she could have counted. Their reconciliations hadn’t lasted long. The brief periods of peace in the house had been laced with tension that would continue to build until the next argument.
Oh, how she’d wished her parents could have been like the Grossos.
It was mind-boggling to think that this couple actually could be her parents.
Dean’s face softened into a smile as he leaned over to give his wife a kiss. “You did, Patsy. This is Becky Peters, Jake’s date.”
Patsy smiled and shook Becky’s hand. “My husband was right. You’re a beautiful young woman. Jake, why haven’t you brought her around before?”
“Becky does a lot of traveling for her work,” he replied.
“Becky’s a model,” Dean said. “Jeans.”
Patsy’s gaze sharpened. “You’re the woman in the jeans posters!” she exclaimed. “Imagine that, we have a celebrity in our midst.”
Becky was startled that Patsy would consider her a celebrity when Dean and Kent were so famous. The Grossos must be down-to-earth people, she thought happily. They would probably welcome their daughter no matter who she was. “The campaign is getting a lot of good placements.”
“Those ads are everywhere. No wonder I thought I’d seen you before.”
“It’s a common reaction,” Jake said. “Happens a lot.”
He was right, Becky thought. She often met people who knew her face because of her ads. Yet she couldn’t help thinking there might be more to the recognition
Dean and Patsy had felt.
Did they see a resemblance to themselves or someone in their family? Or perhaps they sensed a blood tie. Could they really be her parents?
She’d been excited by the possibility for months, but there was a huge difference between merely thinking about it and meeting the couple in person, feeling their palms against hers as they shook her hand, watching them smile, hearing their voices…
Oh, God, yes. She wanted to be their daughter. Please, let it be true.
To have a mother again, someone to hold when the world got mean, or even when things were good. Someone who would listen to her fears without laughing and wouldn’t be afraid to say what she thought. Or say nothing, if that’s what she wanted. It wouldn’t matter what her mother did, as long as she was there. And, oh, to have a father who was here where she could see him and be part of his life instead of on the other side of the world with his new wife and family. And what would it be like to have a sister to share secrets with, and a brother to lean on, and a place where she was always welcome?
Becky yearned for that so much that it hurt. It had been too long since she had felt that she belonged. That she wasn’t alone. That she was loved.
Jake moved his arm from her shoulders to her waist and eased her more firmly against his side. She leaned into him, grateful for his presence and for his support. He’d warned her all along this might be hard on her emotions. She hadn’t realized until now how right he’d been.
The conversation turned to the day’s race and Kent’s chances for the rest of the season. Somehow Becky managed to contribute comments at the appropriate time, but it was almost a relief when the Grossos moved away. Jake leaned over to look at her face, then without another word left his beer on the nearest table and gently steered her past the barbecue and around to the rear of the motor home.
The huge vehicle blocked much of the noise and most of the light that was centered over the barbecue. There were other motor homes still in the lot, but the people around them were either having small parties of their own or making preparations to leave. No one appeared to pay any attention to Becky and Jake, leaving them in relative privacy. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Becky pulled away from him and leaned her backside against the bumper. “To be honest, I’m a bit overwhelmed.”
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