“Like she’s embarrassed to be seen with you? I’ll admit I’ve been there, but—” He silenced her with a glare. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Residual aggression from adolescence. You could’ve pulled my ponytail less often, you know.”
“You could have been less annoying, but that clearly comes too naturally to suppress for long periods of time.”
“You could suppress the need to try to run my life.”
“You need my guidance.”
Silently, they faced each other across the big mahogany desk.
She was his direct line to his sponsors, and he was her ticket away from debutante balls and their matchmaking mother, who’d lately taken to popping up at the office unexpectedly and offering unsolicited advice on making proper marriages and the future of the Sizemore line.
Gil and Marley were bonded by more than blood. They needed each other.
“There’s something more?” Marley finally prompted, leaning back in her chair.
Relieved she was going to take this seriously, Gil nodded. “Something I’m not sure I’ll ever get Sheila to talk about, and if I want to be with her—which I definitely do—then I need to find out what it is.”
“She’s a confident woman. I can’t imagine why she’d care about how differently you were raised.”
“Or what anybody thought about us dating. That was the thing that made me realize she was holding back.”
“You’re not a woman. She does care about what people think in one crucial way—she doesn’t want to be compared to your colorful past.”
“What colorful past?”
His sister grinned. “The blondes, brunettes and redheads.”
He clenched his fist. “She wouldn’t go out with me. What was I supposed to do?”
“Pine away in your lonely mansion writing sonnets to her beauty.”
Sighing, Gil leaned back in his chair. “Women are too damn much trouble.”
“Oh, I imagine you can think of some benefits to having contact with us.”
He pointed at her. “Don’t even think about bringing sex into this.”
“I love how the male mind works.” Marley shook her head. “I didn’t. But since you brought it up, are you sure your invitation to Texas was low-key?”
“I assured her we’d have separate hotel rooms. I offered a rental car at her disposal. I told her I’d have to work a lot, but she was free to hang around or do her own thing. I promised intimate dinners and anything else she dang well wanted.”
“Well, then I’m forced to repeat myself and say nice touch.”
What inane part of his brain had locked on the idea of asking advice from his little sister? Her teenage infatuation with driver Linc Shepherd caused her to set his race car on fire. Now he was frustrated, confused and his head hurt. “Have I mentioned you’re lousy at romance?”
“I have a boyfriend. One you could have been a bit more helpful with, by the way…” She must have noticed the contrition on his face then, because she waved her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you my best advice.”
“Today?” he asked when she fell silent.
“Keep at it.”
“Keep at it? Oh, well. That’s brilliant. Should we use that as a new marketing slogan? I can see it in lights now—Getting Your Butt Kicked in Life or on the Track? No Big Deal. Just Keep at It.”
Marley rose, leaning over the desk. “Yep, that’s what you need to do all right. You’re here all pitiful and sending flowers, being complacent and whining, and I’m telling you not to give up. You want Sheila, then go after her. You’ve flitted from girl to girl for quite a while—when you weren’t obsessing about your precious business deals and how I run my life, that is. She’s got issues beyond wondering how loyal you can actually be, so you’ve got to overcome them. Show her you’re a man to be trusted. Show her how much you care. Don’t pick up the phone, call a florist and spend a bunch of money. Go to her with one flower and a lot of understanding.”
Okay, so maybe that was good advice.
Still, he scowled. “You couldn’t have said that ten minutes ago?”
Marley turned and headed for the door. “I did. Love isn’t all roses and daffodils, you know.”
Finally, all she’d said clicked into place. “I can’t expect her to fall into my arms with just compliments and invitations. If I want to win her over, I’ve got to prove she’s the one I want.”
In the doorway, Marley flashed him a wide smile. “And the lightbulb finally goes on.”
“Hang on.” Gil rose. “What if that doesn’t work?”
“Then you’ll die lonely and bitter.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Come on, there are other fish in the sea and all that jazz.”
Were there? Gil couldn’t imagine trying to catch them. All he saw was Sheila.
“Just so we’re clear,” Marley added, “I’m all for you finding somebody—besides me, that is—to deal with your temper and drive for perfection. Mom and Dad, however, will most definitely feel different about your choice.”
With a wince, Gil remembered a race last month that his mother had turned up at—along with a young, attractive friend of the family. “Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know.”
AT 12:05 SHEILA LOCKED the diner’s front door, then retreated to the back for a glass of whiskey.
Leaning against the counter, she toasted the empty break room. “Drinking alone in the dark. How pathetic can you get?”
Brooding didn’t suit her, but she had cause at the moment.
Rue’s Give Gil Another Chance campaign had been followed up by visits from Grace, Patsy and Sophia. She was determined to put the man out of her mind, and everywhere she turned, somebody was singing his praises.
She glared at the flowers on the table.
Why didn’t they all understand she didn’t belong with a man like Gil? Money and social status aside, they’d never fit. He was honorable and generous, and though she was trying to be the same, her past mistakes could never be forgotten. The humiliation of him learning what she’d done was a moment she could never face.
She doubted he’d be so hot to date her if he knew she was an ex-con.
The distinct sound of somebody tapping their keys against the front-door glass echoed through the empty diner. Setting her tumbler down with a sigh, she headed toward the interruption. She hoped Al’s car hadn’t broken down again. With all the engine specialists in this town, you’d think he could find one that worked.
When she was steps away from the door, she noticed the shadow of the person standing outside. Way too tall for Al.
Gil.
Despite her vow to snap off their relationship, and knowing she was no good for him, her traitorous heart had other ideas. It fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.
She unlocked the door and extended her arm to invite him inside. “It’s pretty late for coffee and pie.”
He handed her a single red rose. “I came for you.”
Her heart stuttered. She was supposed to resist this? Why did he have to make things so difficult? “You investing in floral shops now?”
“Since you so clearly love them, I should buy a dozen.”
“Yeah, well, I imagine you could afford to.” Avoiding his gaze, she turned toward the back room. “I was having a whiskey,” she said as she walked away.
Naturally, he followed. “I was going to offer to take you to a new wine bar that just opened up by the highway.”
“Wine is for wimps.”
“You were full of compliments about the wine last night.”
“That was then.”
He faced her, his gaze searching her face and not seeming at all intimidated by the keep-away vibes she was throwing in his direction. “You’re in a mood.”
“Yeah. A bad one.” She glanced at him, holding up an empty glass. “Wanna join me?”
“Why not?” Once she’d tossed in ice and poured out a measure of whiskey, he took the glass and toasted her.
“I
’m already miserable. How much worse can things get?”
As he sipped, her temper flared. He was gorgeous, popular, successful and rich. “What do you have to be miserable about?”
“You. And if you hold that rose any tighter it’s going to snap.”
Deliberately, she set it on the counter with great care. “How could I possibly have the power to make you miserable?”
“I want to be with you, and you’re determined to reject me. That, alone, is enough. But seeing you here, by yourself, exhausted, drinking in the dark as if you just lost your best friend sends the miserable quotient over and above.”
As controlled as he seemed, she recognized that he was in a towering fury. The sparks in his blue eyes could have started an inferno with a single blink.
Given his size, she should have been frightened. She’d seen the violent side of a man before. No matter how far she’d come, those memories lingered. Probably always would.
Yet, she felt no fear of Gil.
Was it the Tae Kwon Do she’d learned? Was she so different from the impressionable girl she used to be? Or could it be the simple fact that the man before her was like no other in her life?
He needed her for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, so she had the power to hurt him.
And the thought of doing so humbled her.
“I’m not who you think I am,” she said, lifting her chin in challenge, knowing she had to warn him.
“And isn’t that the problem? I don’t know you.” He moved closer, and her breath clogged in her throat. “I want to.”
Continuing to see him without telling him about her past was lying, right? How could she look into that beautiful face and not spill every thought, need and emotion? “You’re too old for me,” she said in a rushed, last-ditch excuse.
“You’re ten times my age.” He took her glass from her hand, then set it with his on the counter behind her. “Or at least there are times it seems you’ve lived a hundred years.”
“You really know the way to a girl’s heart, Gil Sizemore. No wonder you’re forty-one and un married.”
“I can’t hang on to the one woman I’m seriously interested in for more than a single night. How would you expect me to get married?”
Sheila squirmed for the first time in years. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Clichés, huh?” Laying a hand on either side of her, he caged her against the counter. “I expected better.”
With the heat pumping off him, met by her own desire, she couldn’t seem to remember her own name, much less why she was so determined to resist him. “It’s been a long day,” she said weakly.
“How about we make it better?” He dipped his head, brushing his lips across her jaw. “Come with me to Texas.”
In her experience, happiness was flighty and intermittent, so why shouldn’t she grab some of it for herself? It certainly wouldn’t last, but protecting herself from the power of his smile didn’t seem to be an option anymore.
He’d already dragged her under his spell.
“All right.” She laid her head against his chest. “Sure.” She inhaled the exotic scent of his cologne. “Okay.”
“Three yeses, huh?” Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. “I always get much more from you than I expect.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, SHEILA found herself on board Gil’s private plane headed to Texas.
The luxuriously huge, soft-as-butter beige leather seats alone were enough to make her jaw drop, but there was also plush navy carpeting, flat-screen monitors on the walls and a table set up with an array of drinks, cheese and crackers, and a giant crystal bowl of fresh fruit.
Gil introduced her to the other passengers, including Double S Racing’s chief engineer, CFO and operations manager. Sheila had seen them all at the diner at one time or another, but strangely enough no one seemed to find it unusual that she was there with their boss. Maybe he brought a different woman aboard every week.
His sister, Marley, who served as sponsor relations director, was also part of the group.
“We’re so glad you’re coming with us,” she said quietly to Sheila when Gil slipped into the cockpit to speak to the pilot. “Maybe Gil will resist the urge to hold a strategy meeting.”
“Workaholic, huh?” Maybe they did have more in common than she’d realized. “I guess I haven’t really seen that side of him.”
“He makes the drivers seem low-key.”
“Aren’t they? They’re always smiling when I see them.”
“That’s because you’re feeding them. Trust me, you’ll get a different viewpoint this weekend.”
From town gossip Sheila knew Marley was engaged to Linc Shepherd, one of Gil’s drivers. Tall, dark-haired Marley with her Sizemore beauty and black-haired Linc would probably have kids even better looking than their parents. Impossible as that seemed.
“You aren’t telling Sheila any stories you shouldn’t, are you?” Gil asked as he walked up.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marley said, somehow succeeding in looking both innocent and capable of mischief at the slightest urge.
“What stories?” Sheila asked.
“My baby sister thinks it’s hilarious to tell people about all the stupid things I did as a kid. And the more humiliating, the better.”
Marley flipped her long, dark hair off her shoulder. “Humph.”
“But I’m still the favorite son.”
“You’re the only son.”
Gil grinned. “Being surrounded by women was always a great burden.”
Sheila gave him a meaningful look. “Excellent practice for your adult life. My waitresses—among others of the estrogen variety—fawn over you shamelessly.”
“It’s a crime to be popular?” he asked with a teasing note of defensiveness.
“Depends on who you’re interested in impressing,” Sheila returned, her gaze locked with his.
Again with the flirting. Did Gil naturally send her to adolescence or inspire a fun, engaging side of her she thought she’d lost over years of disappointment?
Marley patted his arm. “Don’t worry, brother dear, I won’t spill anything. I actually like Sheila.”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot said before Sheila could further question Gil. “Please take your seats. We’re ready for takeoff.”
Gil led Sheila to a pair of seats in the back of the plane. As she hooked her seat belt, it suddenly occurred to her that this little metal tube—as luxurious as it seemed—was about to be several thousand feet off the ground.
This sensation went straight from her gut to her mouth, which she used to babble nervously. “What did Marley mean, she likes me?”
“She likes you.”
She jabbed him lightly in the stomach with her elbow.
“As amazing as it seems, I’d figured that much out. Does she not like many people?”
“Marley gets along with everybody—one of the key reasons she’s so good at sponsor relations. My mother used to say she could charm the ticks off a hound dog.”
“Your mother? I thought she was Queen of the Debutantes.”
“She is, but Queen of the Deep South chapter.”
“Ah. That still doesn’t explain Marley’s comment, though.”
“I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’d imagine she was referring to the fact that since her and Linc got together she’s been retaliating against my overbearing interference in her love life by expressing her displeasure over mine.”
“I see.” Sheila shook her head. “No, actually I don’t.”
“She doesn’t like the women I date.” He started counting off reasons on his fingers. “Too prissy, too dingy, too self-absorbed, too catty, too lazy.”
She peeked out the window and noticed they were moving rapidly down the runway. “Is that all one girl, or several?”
“More than one,” he hedged. “Are you nervous about flying?”
; “No, I—” She could feel the plane start to lift off the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m fine.”
“Then you’re cutting off the circulation in my leg for fun?”
Glancing down, she saw her white-knuckled hand gripping his thigh. She let go immediately. “Sorry.”
He snagged her hand and held it between both of his. “Look at me.”
With her stomach doing somersaults, she did as he asked. The steadiness in those blue eyes calmed the worst of her fears. “I don’t fly very often and never in a plane this small. It’s safe, right? I mean, are you sure it can stay up all the way to Texas?”
“I’m sure.”
“What if we go through one of those bumpy clouds?”
“The plane’s smaller size actually allows for greater maneuverability with that type of thing. And Peter is an extremely experienced pilot.” He smiled gently. “Do you think I’d put you in danger?”
She shook her head. Gil’s protective instincts were as firmly engrained as her defensive ones.
The question was, who was going to shield her heart from falling for him?
GIL COULDN’T REMEMBER enjoying a flight more.
He generally used the air time to have strategy meetings, make calls to the crew chiefs who were already at the track, or go through his schedule, making adjustments where necessary. By the volume and frequency of his staff’s laughter in the plane, he figured they would be plotting to get Sheila to come with them every weekend.
They touched down, piled in the rental cars, drove to the track, picked up Sheila’s weekend credentials and arrived in the garage area ten minutes before qualifying was due to start.
Other than calling the diner to check on Mellie, Sheila seemed entirely focused on him and his teams. She asked a million questions, gawked in amazement at everything and nearly got run over twice by crew members pushing race cars toward the qualifying line on pit road, leading him to ask her how many races she’d been to.
“Including the three I’ll see this weekend?” she asked, craning her neck around to look at the stands surrounding the massive track. “Four.”
He ground to a halt. “You’ve been to one race.”
“I have a business to run. I can’t go flitting off to the track whenever I want.” When he continued to stare at her in disbelief, she added, “I’m not green, you know. I watch on TV every week. Can I see the pit wall?”
Right Before His Eyes Page 4
