by Abby Gaines
“The good news is,” she said, “I watched you last night and your table manners are perfect.”
His grunt suggested he was partially mollified.
“And you’re strong on courtesies like opening doors for women, standing when they come into a room and so on.”
“Dad was big on that stuff,” he admitted. “When we were teenagers he told us good manners would get us more girls, which was enough to get our buy-in.”
“Surely you never needed more girls?” She said it without thinking. Hastily she added, “I mean, you or your brothers.”
Too late, he was grinning. “How many girls do you think are enough?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HOW MANY GIRLS DO you think are enough?” Gaby challenged him right back.
“When I was a teenager?” he said. “Or now?”
The atmosphere thickened and prickled like thousands of tiny needles.
Gaby squirmed, finally deciding retreat was safest. She glanced down at her notes. “But, um, although you have a strong grasp of courtesy, your personal projection leaves something to be desired.”
“Are we talking about that PowerPoint update we did for Getaway?”
“We’re talking about your personality.” She was pretty sure he knew that.
He tilted his chair back on two legs. “Tell me what’s wrong with me,” he invited.
“You know darn well you’re about as friendly as a bear that’s been run over by a race car.”
He scratched his head at the bizarre analogy. “Are you going to nag me about smiling again?”
“Smiling is part of the issue, but it’s also about showing an interest in other people.”
He looked at her blankly. This was the essence of Zack’s problem, Gaby realized. Until he stopped being so wrapped up in his own troubles, he wouldn’t connect with others.
“The whole world doesn’t revolve around your racing,” she said.
“The bit that matters does.”
She rolled her eyes. “Zack, for starters, when a reporter interviews you, you need to ask them a couple of questions, too.”
“I’m not the one writing an article,” he protested. “What’s the point?”
“The point is, when you take time to forge a two-way connection, everything goes better. That applies to your family, as well as the media.”
He looked mystified. Gaby sighed. “No wonder you’re not married. Forget Bachelor of the Year, you could be Bachelor of the Millennium.”
“Hey, I could get married if I wanted,” he said. “I’ve had plenty of proposals.”
“From living, breathing women with self-respect?”
His face darkened, so Gaby hurried on. “The bachelor contest is holding a reception at the track on Saturday night. The magazine’s editor will be there, along with a bunch of readers who’ve won tickets to the event. You need to take an interest in every woman you talk to. I want the buzz to be about what an incredible guy you are, and how no one would ever have guessed it.”
His eyes narrowed. “For someone whose job involves a lot of diplomacy, you can be pretty rude.”
“You bring out the worst in me,” she said apologetically.
“Do you always blame your clients for your bad behavior?”
“You’re the first,” she said. “It’s curiously liberating.”
Zack chuckled, and as always, the deep, warm sound shifted something at Gaby’s core, unsettling her. She pressed her shoes into the carpet, seeking solid ground. “To prepare for Saturday night, we’re going to do some role-playing,” she said, “to polish up your conversation skills.”
He groaned.
“You don’t drive a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race without practicing first, do you?”
“I guess not,” he muttered.
“Okay, let’s get started then.” She stood up. “I’ll be the magazine editor.”
“Who should I be?” he deadpanned.
Goodness, was Zack Matheson making a joke? Gaby laughed, then sobered as she stuck out a hand. “Zack, nice to meet you. I’m Diana Vernay, editor of Now Woman.”
“Great to meet you.” Zack stood to shake hands. Gaby ignored the pulsing of electricity between them.
“I’m a big fan of your magazine,” he said.
Gaby snickered.
Zack pressed his hand to his chest, wounded. “What?”
“I forgot to say, make it convincing. She won’t believe you’re a fan of Now Woman magazine. She’ll know you’re a kiss-up.”
“You’re a cynic,” he accused her. “I’ll have you know, their article on cuticle care had me on the edge of my seat.”
Gaby found herself laughing again. “We agreed you’d take this training seriously,” she reminded him. She had the sense that too much kidding around with Zack could be dangerous.
“Fine.” He reached for her hand again.
Gaby whipped it behind her back. “Let’s take the handshake as read.” They had a lot of role-plays to get through. If she held his hand for each one, she’d be a mess.
His mouth twitched. “Okay, are you still the editor?”
“No, I’m one of the readers.” She lifted her voice to a breathless squeak. “Wow, Zack, it’s great to meet you. You’re even handsomer in real life than you are on TV.”
He just managed to catch an eye-roll. He smiled down at her. “You’re too kind. But I’m kinda the ugly one in my family. My brothers are much better looking.”
Nice. But Gaby wasn’t about to let him off that easily. In the same persona, she simpered, “I have to admit, I’m a big fan of Trent’s. He’s the best driver on the track.”
A sudden, heavy silence.
A muscle ticked in Zack’s jaw. Then he smiled, albeit grimly, and said, “I’ll be sure and tell Trent you said that. Right after I beat him on Sunday.”
His slow exhale told her the question had strained his good manners. She considered it a plus. She liked that flashing a smile he didn’t mean or uttering an empty compliment didn’t come easily. Zack thought deeply, cared deeply. If he ever opened up enough to fall in love with a woman, she’d know it was forever. Yikes, where did that come from?
“I—you—that was perfect,” Gaby stuttered. He still looked tense, so she reached out to touch his hand. With the split-second reactions of a top NASCAR driver, he wrapped his fingers around hers. When she tried to pull away, he held fast.
“Y’know, there’s something you could really help me out with,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s kind of embarrassing, but it’s happened before, and I know it’ll happen again.”
Wow, he was actually asking for help? “What is it?” Her words came out breathless, thanks to the hand-holding thing they still had going on. Gaby tried to pretend they weren’t touching each other, and gave him a bright, inquisitorial look.
“Sometimes when I go out in public,” he said, his eyes on the view through the window of the park across the street, “women…accost me.”
She just bet they did. But she let her brow wrinkle and said a surprised, “Really?”
He grinned. “Living, breathing women with self-respect,” he assured her.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s the problem you want my help with? Women accosting you?”
“It can be hard to make it clear I’m not interested without causing offence,” he said. “Presumably you don’t want me offending people at the Bachelor of the Year event.”
Was it her imagination, or was it getting hotter in here? Gaby lifted the weight of her hair off her neck. When Zack followed the movement with his eyes, she dropped her hands.
“What happens when you are interested in the woman?” she asked. “I guess the accosting’s not a problem then.”
“I can deal with that,” he assured her. “I want help with the other kind.”
“I guess I can give you some general pointers,” she began.
“The role-play thing really helps,” he said, an unholy glint in his eye.
Gaby
tried staring him down, but he’d had years more practice at playing tough than she had.
“So, a role-play,” he said. “Let’s assume I’m not interested. And that you’re a woman who is.”
“Is what?” She stalled for time.
“Interested,” he clarified.
She said slowly, “So, you want me to pretend to be interested in you, so you can practice rebuffing me politely.”
“Bingo.”
She slanted him a dark look. “And this isn’t some kind of punishment for my forcing you to do charm school?”
He was all wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.”
She tried to look disapproving, but a smile kept tugging her mouth out of line. “Okay,” she said, resigned. “I suppose it’s conceivable this situation could come up on the weekend. Let’s get started.”
Zack folded his arms, watching her. And Gaby developed a massive case of stage fright. Something about pretending she was interested in Zack Matheson was deeply disturbing.
She cleared her throat. He smiled.
She ran her hands through her hair, mussing it. He straightened.
She took a couple of steps toward him, hips swinging. His gaze sharpened.
“Zack Matheson, it’s so cool to meet you,” she cooed. “I’m such a fan, you wouldn’t believe.”
His soft snort told her he didn’t believe it—she dropped out of character long enough to squint a warning at him. Then she twittered, “This is so amazing, seeing you here. I dreamed about you last night.”
Zack’s jolt told her he hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t intended to let it slip, either, but the dream was obviously at the forefront of her mind. Still, why not use what she had? The general gist, if not the details.
“What kind of dream?” He didn’t sound nearly as nervous as he should if a strange woman came up and shared her dreams with him.
Time to up the ante. “You—you kissed me.” The provocative fan comment Gaby intended came out a faltering mess. Zack froze. Had he guessed she’d just revealed her real dream? Did the fact that he wasn’t talking mean he was horrified, or just plain embarrassed? Mortification heated Gaby’s face. How could she look her client in the eye again? Just because they’d had the occasional moment of connection, it was totally inappropriate for her to—
She halted her panicked thoughts, aware of Zack’s wary expression. She had to brazen this out, convince him the dream was all part of her act. She forced a saucy smile, put her hands on her hips and said in her pouting, stalker-fan persona, “Any chance you can make my dream come true?”
She expected him to get a hunted look, maybe even to bolt from the room. Then she would give him a stern lecture about how to handle unwanted attention and they would move into safer territory.
But nothing about today was going as she’d expected.
She gasped as his hands settled on her shoulders.
“Zack,” Gaby cautioned in her normal voice. Then, when she caught the intensity, the silver sheen of desire in his eyes, the word faded away. She swallowed.
“Let’s see if I can help with that dream,” he said huskily.
He lowered his mouth to hers. Pull away, Gaby told herself. Prove you’re only playacting.
Instead, she shifted closer to him. She’d expected his lips to be firm…but their warmth took her by surprise. So did the instant, consuming flare of longing. When she would have jolted back in shock, his hands anchored her.
Zack coaxed her with his mouth, cleverly used his tongue to part her lips, his hands to trace the length of her spine, the curve of her derriere. Gaby pressed herself closer to the lean hardness of his body and found the perfect complement for her own softness. He deepened the kiss, drawing an unfamiliar groan from her…one that he matched.
She had never known a sensation as sweet as this, Gaby thought dazedly. She couldn’t get enough of Zack’s mouth, of the glorious, male taste of him.
A voice in her head said, If Sandra could see you now…
What the heck was she doing? Kissing my client. With an almighty effort of will, Gaby twisted free. And immediately felt the loss of warmth. Zack Matheson is not warm, she reminded herself.
“That was terrible,” she said, breathing unfortunately heavily.
He narrowed his eyes, folded his arms. “Terrible?”
“It’s…it won’t be clear to a woman who accosts you that you’re not interested if you…if you grab her and kiss her.” She tried to sound coolly professional, not easy when her insides were spinning doughnuts.
Zack threw back his head and laughed.
“Oh, yeah, now you grow a sense of humor,” she said crossly, and he laughed harder.
“We both know that had nothing to do with a role-play,” he said. “And everything to do with me wanting to kiss you, and—” his mouth curved in satisfaction “—you wanting it just as badly.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “Okay, so we had a momentary attraction. But the reason we’re doing these role-plays is serious. It’s about keeping your sponsor happy.”
“It’s about your promotion.” His expression was unreadable.
“That, too,” she said. If Sandra suspected for one second Gaby was being distracted by a man, let alone a client…“Zack, we need to agree on this—no more fooling around.”
ONE PART OF ZACK’S BRAIN recognized that fooling around with Gaby was a bad idea. The other part, the bigger part, was totally hung up on how to get his lips back onto hers.
Kissing her had been incredible. And…fun. Fun? Not a word Zack applied much to his own life. But something about locking lips with Gaby, and locking wits over this stupid contest…he was having more fun than he’d had in years.
But he didn’t race the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series for fun. Winning a race took focus and damn hard work. Serious business. So even though he suspected he never would have stopped kissing Gaby if she hadn’t ended it herself, this thing needed to end right now.
“You’re right,” he said. “Fooling around does complicate things. It’s not as if you and I could ever have a relationship.”
Too late, Zack realized that was tactless. Gaby was right, he didn’t think of others when he spoke.
“That’s for sure,” she said coolly. “My policy is to steer clear of self-centered men.”
Ouch, he really had offended her. “I didn’t mean I don’t like you.”
From her rising color, he guessed he was some way short of graduating charm school. He should shut up before he made things worse.
“Let’s face it,” Gaby said with a lightness Zack sensed wasn’t genuine. “If we had a…relationship, next thing you know you’d convince me to give you an inch, and then you’d forget about the bachelor contest, forget about our deal, and never look up from that race car. And that would be the end of my promotion.”
Her logic was impeccable, but suddenly Zack wasn’t so sure. Because he’d been thinking about Gaby way more than he should. She had some kind of hold over him. That couldn’t be good.
“Yeah, I’d do all that,” he lied. “And even if I didn’t, you’re not my type.” Shutting up would definitely have been a good idea. Her eyes widened with hurt. “You heard what I told the Now Woman reporter,” he said roughly. “I want a woman who makes home and family—my home and family—her life.”
She looked relieved to be reminded. “Like I said, you’re self-centered.”
It was funny how she was allowed to insult him with importunity, Zack thought, yet she got upset when he wasn’t a hundred percent tactful in his response. Which again proved she was right—he had a lot to learn.
“I prefer to think of it as self-preservation.” He’d been behind his brothers, no matter what he did, his whole life. It wasn’t unreasonable to want a woman who put him first. Gaby would never be that woman—she’d admitted outright she wouldn’t let a man get in the way of her career. And yet, that kiss…
Zack felt as if things were more complicated than he’
d ever asked for them to be. As if he was getting himself tied up in knots. He had enough complications as it was.
“Let’s get back to work,” he said. “I have a flight to Watkins Glen to catch, and I wouldn’t want to screw up this bachelor party for you.”
CHAPTER NINE
AMBER’S TESTOSTERONE antennae were on full alert from the moment she pulled up outside the concrete-and-glass Matheson Racing building on Thursday morning. She gritted her teeth and cursed Brady Matheson.
She’d asked him to find her some work at Matheson Performance Industries, his engine-building company. Instead, he’d offered her a part-time receptionist job at the race team headquarters. Amber suspected he was trying to keep her away from her mom, who still worked as his secretary. More a second-in-command these days, was how Brady had put it. Which sounded as if he appreciated Julie-Anne…but Amber didn’t trust large, charismatic men who tried to come between her and her mother.
Give him the benefit of the doubt, she admonished herself for the hundredth time. Give everyone, everything, the benefit of the doubt.
She locked her car and headed inside. The receptionist, a woman around Amber’s age, smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m Amber Blake. I’m, uh—” She indicated the reception desk.
The woman squealed. “You’re the one who’s going to fill in for me while I attend classes.” She stood and shook Amber’s hand. “I’m Libby. Am I ever pleased to see you.”
“Have you been desperate to get away?” Amber asked. Good grief, she had to stop seeing monsters under every bed.
“Are you kidding?” Libby pushed a clipboard across the counter and showed Amber where to sign in. “Chad practically forced me to enroll for my degree in motor sport management. Now that I’m about to start, I’m really looking forward to it, but I was starting to worry Chad would be answering the phones himself.” She laughed.
Okay, a receptionist encouraged to enroll for a college degree obviously wasn’t in need of rescue. Amber signed her name…then realized the pen had a fluffy pink pig stuck on the end. Libby was the woman with the stuffed animal fetish, as Trent had called it. She was to blame for that awful teddy bear Brady had bought.
