by Abby Gaines
“That’s a heck of a splash,” Brianna said. The electronics giant obviously had money to burn.
“That means the No. 402 car won’t be available to Getaway—or to anyone else—until after Daytona,” Andrew said.
“I believe you’re also talking to Country Bread,” she said.
“Yep, but I know Country Bread is talking to another team, as well as us and Matheson Racing. We want to get the right partner.”
Given that her overwhelming impression of FastMax was that this team was enthusiastic, honest and determined to kick butt on the track, Brianna didn’t think they would have much trouble finding a sponsor.
“We’re testing in Kentucky in a couple of weeks’ time,” Andrew said as they went for lunch in the team cafeteria—all part of giving Brianna a feel for what made this place tick. “I hope you’ll join us there. Garrett behind the wheel of a stock car is something else. He’s good on TV, but he’s incredible live.”
“I’d love to come.” She watched Garrett, who’d stopped at another table to talk to a couple of mechanics. He was well liked and respected by everyone. She hadn’t had the same impression of Zack Matheson. Of Trent, maybe, but not Zack.
“Is it hard, working with family?” she asked Andrew.
“It’s not always easy,” he said. “But there’s more good than bad.” He glanced fondly at his stepson. “When there’s family involved, there’s more meaning to it, know what I mean?”
“I think I do,” Brianna said.
CHAD’S SECRETARY came to find him in the workshop on Thursday with the news that Jay Nicholson from Delacord Theaters was on the line.
Chad took the stairs two at a time—Delacord had been thorough in its assessment of Matheson Racing, which they’d completed a couple of days ago. He had the impression they liked what they saw. If they made a sponsorship offer now, it would solve all his problems—business and personal.
“I presented our findings at yesterday’s board meeting.” Jay didn’t bother with small talk, one of many things Chad liked about the man. “We agreed unanimously it’d be hard to find a better-run outfit than Matheson Racing.”
“Thanks,” Chad said. Take that, Brianna.
“But the dollars are a real problem,” Jay said.
Chad sat down behind his desk, clicked to open the budget file on his laptop. “Tell me your concerns, and we’ll see what we can do.” This was a negotiation, after all.
Jay laughed shortly. “Not much, Chad, I’m sorry. The reality is starting to hit home with the board about how much money we’ll be up for.”
Zack appeared in the doorway of Chad’s office, alerted to the fact that his future might be decided in this phone call. Chad hated the thought of letting his brother down. He ran a hand over his face, held the phone tighter.
“It didn’t help,” Jay said, “that Zack wrecked the car at Halesboro.” Delacord hadn’t been at the track, but Jay had asked Chad how the practice had gone. “If we were sponsoring Zack now, we’d be paying to fix up a car the fans haven’t even seen yet. We wouldn’t want to start the season spending, say, ten million dollars, only to have you coming to us for more money later on.”
“One wreck isn’t a good indicator of how much money you’ll spend over time,” Chad said.
Zack grimaced an apology, obviously getting the gist. He sat down at Chad’s meeting table.
“Your case isn’t helped by the fact that your driver is an unknown quantity,” Jay said. “The world loves Trent, but that doesn’t mean they’ll love Zack.”
Knowing his brothers were polar opposites, Chad had to agree. Zack wouldn’t win any popularity contests.
“What’s the bottom line here, Jay?”
The other man’s sigh was the confirmation he didn’t need. “We’ve decided our budget, and to some extent our marketing demographic, will be better served by a NASCAR Nationwide Series sponsorship.”
Chad shifted his reality, marshaled his thoughts. “Our NASCAR Nationwide driver Ryan Thorne shows a lot of promise.” Maybe he could put Delacord on Thorne’s car, and convince Thorne’s sponsor to move up to the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series car…
“A couple of the board members mentioned an interest in Roberto Castillo,” Jay said apologetically.
It was hardly surprising, Chad thought. Ex-Formula One driver Castillo was new to NASCAR, but he had an incredibly high profile. “So, as far as Matheson is concerned, Delacord’s money is off the table?”
Zack’s face set in harsh, tense lines.
“Afraid so,” Jay said.
They ended the call on good terms—not only was NASCAR too small a world to start slanging matches, but Chad genuinely liked Jay. Still, when he hung up the phone, he uttered a couple of curses.
“You can say that again,” Zack said. So Chad did.
But there was no time to wallow in disappointment. When he was done cursing, he said briskly, “We need to start putting some pressure on Country Bread, see if they’re ready to open their wallet yet.”
“They might be our last hope.” Zack’s voice was calm, but he kicked unconsciously at the table leg. “Garrett Clark has a sponsorship deal with Getaway all but signed on the dotted line.”
Brianna chose FastMax over Matheson? Over me?
Chad put down his pen before he stabbed something. “You sure about that?”
“His crew chief told Dave over drinks last night.”
Surely Brianna hadn’t been so spooked by that kiss that she went and handed the sponsorship to FastMax. Hurt and frustration churned in his gut.
He pulled up his runaway imagination. He knew Brianna—not as well as he should have before he married her maybe, but he knew she wasn’t malicious. Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, vulnerable…yes. Malicious, no.
But Garrett Clark was famed for his ability to charm. Could he charm ten or twelve million dollars out of a woman? Brianna had shown herself capable of making impulsive decisions on the romantic front. Chad ignored the fact that he’d made the same impulsive decision.
“Clark’s trying to psych us out,” he told Zack, hoping it was true. “And you and Dave are letting him.”
Zack let out a frustrated breath. “You’re right. But just the thought that we might not even start the season if I don’t sign a sponsor…”
“We’re a better team than FastMax, and on a good day you’re a better driver than Clark.” Chad ignored his brother’s scowl. “If Getaway signs Clark, that leaves less competition for Country Bread’s money.”
“Country Bread doesn’t have as much to spend as Getaway.”
Yeah, but at least I’m not married to anyone there.
The flatness in Zack’s eyes betrayed his stress. He was a loner—the unhappier he got, the more he clammed up. If things got any worse around here, Chad thought, his brother might disappear to Atlanta again, and they’d face more years of silence. The past couple of years, before Brady’s heart attack brought Zack back to Charlotte, had been tough on everyone.
“I’ll get you a sponsor,” Chad said.
Zack’s face loosened up, his eyes flickered. “Thanks.”
One word was better than none on the scale of his brother’s emotional health, Chad supposed.
He sighed; he sounded like Brianna, with her insistence that communication—sharing, as she called it—was a sign of a healthy relationship. He shook his head, shook off the overanalysis bug.
After Zack left, Chad sat for a long time staring out the window over the parking lot where performance cars way outnumbered regular sedans and SUVs.
If he put his analysis where it mattered—into the sponsorship—he had to agree Zack was right. Getaway Resorts was, in every respect other than the personal, a better sponsor for them than Country Bread, which was spreading its attentions around. The situation with Delacord showed how quickly a prospective sponsorship could disappear. They couldn’t afford to rely on Country Bread.
And what was he doing about it? Nothing. Since Brianna’s reappearance, he’d thou
ght more about her than about securing the best outcome for the team.
Chad made a sound of disgust and spun his chair back to his desk. He’d never in his life waited to see how the chips would fall. When he wanted something, he went out and got it.
He would call the guys at Country Bread, see what else they needed in order to choose Matheson Racing. And he would call Brianna and do whatever it took to secure the sponsorship.
She’d said she would throw herself into her assessment 24/7. Chad was damned if she’d spend that 24/7 with Garrett Clark. He picked up the phone.
THERE WAS ONLY so much FastMax Racing material Brianna could read in one sitting. When the financial printouts started to blur, she left her hotel room and headed to the park across the road.
She sat down on a bench, making the most of the limited winter sunshine. The wooden seat held some lingering dampness—she’d probably end up with a mark on her skirt.
The buzz of her cell phone distracted her from that minor worry. The caller was Chad.
He started with an apology for not being in touch with her sooner. Then he admitted he’d put off talking to her because the situation still felt awkward. Which she considered surprisingly honest of him.
“Maybe we’re coming at this the wrong way,” Chad said. “Thinking we can shut out our personal history. You can assure me all you like that our past won’t affect your decision, and I can say that our marriage is irrelevant, but it’s not true.”
“You’re right,” she murmured. She could hardly deny it when she’d spent more time talking to FastMax than to Matheson Racing this week purely because no one at FastMax had seen her naked!
“I think about you,” Chad said. His voice turned husky. “Since that kiss, I can’t help remembering—”
“Don’t.” The word came out a squeak. Brianna fanned her face. She needed to stop thinking naked when Chad was in the vicinity, even on the other end of a phone line. She should never have kissed him back. She should have consigned the question Is Chad as good a kisser as I remember? to the annals of Great Unanswered Questions of All Time.
He cleared his throat. “So let’s admit this is difficult. Admit we don’t know how the heck to deal with the situation.”
“You’ll admit that?” she teased, suddenly feeling lighter. She stretched her legs out in front of her, tipped her head back to see the pale sky.
“I will if you will.”
Electric silence. As if he was talking about something else entirely.
Brianna’s stomach quivered. Don’t think naked thoughts!
“Okay,” she said. “This is difficult, and I don’t know how the heck to deal with the situation.”
“This is difficult,” Chad repeated solemnly. “And I don’t know how the heck to deal with the situation.”
Silence. Then Brianna snorted a laugh. “I feel like I just joined AA, or a convent or something.”
“Hmm. I can’t see you in a convent.” The huskiness was back.
Nakednakednaked. Brianna slapped her own face. Cut it out!
“Are you beating up your phone?” Chad’s voice was low, sexy.
“So, dealing with this difficult situation…” she said, returning to the subject clumsily. She stood, started to walk—best not to be too relaxed at a time like this.
“No more avoiding the issue or each other,” he ordered, switching into the Boss mode. “We both have a job to do. We both need to put our best into it. My usual practice with interested sponsors is to invite them to spend a solid chunk of time at Matheson Racing headquarters to get a real feel for what we do. So that’s what I’m inviting you to do.”
“Uh, how much time?” Sure, the theory was good, but in practice…
“A week,” he said.
One week with Chad. Good grief, that was longer than Brianna had known him before she married him.
“The team headquarters is about as unromantic a place as you can imagine,” he said. “I guarantee it’ll cool things down.”
She could definitely do with cooling down.
“A week of your time learning about the team,” he elaborated. “A week of my time, giving this deal my best shot. All in, nothing held back.”
Now that was downright manipulative—and quite impressive, Brianna acknowledged, that he’d remembered her exact words from their breakup. Before she knew what had happened, she’d agreed to spend a whole week at Matheson Racing.
Kind of like Before she knew what had happened, she’d agreed to spend her whole life with Chad.
Look how well that had turned out.
TUESDAY MORNING—Matheson Racing’s week generally started on Tuesday, because during the season, Monday was most people’s only day off—Brianna sat in her Mustang convertible outside the concrete-and-glass team headquarters and gave herself a pep talk. She could do this, she could spend a week with Chad.
She checked her hair one last time in the mirror on her visor. “Get out of this car and walk into that building,” she told herself sternly.
Her feet stayed stuck to the floor.
There was one sure way to put herself in the right frame of mind for her sojourn at Matheson Racing. Brianna pulled out her cell phone and dialed her father.
“What’s wrong?” Brian Hudson demanded.
“Just wanted to see how you are,” she said cheerfully. She’d phoned him a few times since she’d arrived in Charlotte, so her call couldn’t be a surprise. Yet still, he assumed she was calling because she’d screwed up.
No wonder she’d never dared tell him about the mess that had been her marriage. Of course, Chad hadn’t told his family, either—the thought made her feel marginally more competent.
“I’m all right,” her father said. “Damn chemo’s taking it out of me. Can’t swallow much.”
“If you need me to come down—”
“I’ll be fine. I need you to do your job.”
She sighed. “Okay, then, how about a progress report?” She gave him a rundown on her meetings with FastMax and Matheson Racing. “I’m about to spend a week at Matheson, getting a feeling for how the team operates.”
“Make sure you give their accountant a proper grilling.”
Will that make you love me? If I do a good job of grilling the accountant?
“I get the impression,” Brianna said, “that Country Bread is very interested in Garrett Clark.”
Her dad made a dismissive sound. “If we want Clark, we’ll outbid them. Are they sniffing around Matheson?”
“Some. Nowhere near as enthusiastically as they are around Clark,” she admitted. Which was a worry. Why wasn’t Country Bread as interested in Zack? “They’re talking to another team, too, I’m not sure which one.”
They talked for a few more minutes. Brianna ended the call suitably fired up not to take any garbage from anyone, and headed into the Matheson Racing headquarters. The moment the automatic door swished closed behind her, she knew Chad was right. The cool, quiet atmosphere was a much better place for them to meet than in the adrenaline-fueled chaos of a racetrack or the seductive environs of a restaurant or hotel room.
She could practically feel her seesawing emotions being taken over by businesslike pragmatism. She’d bet she wouldn’t even think about kissing Chad in this environment.
“Brianna Hudson to see Chad Matheson,” she said crisply to the receptionist.
He came out to meet her, casual but handsome in dark pants with his striped shirt untucked. He shook her hand. And proved she’d been overconfident about not wanting to kiss him here. She whipped her hand back, fingers curled around the lingering sensation of his touch.
“I’ve set you up in my office,” he said as they walked upstairs.
She faltered, grabbed hold of the balustrade. “Doesn’t Zack have an office? Shouldn’t I be with him?”
He steadied her with a hand on her arm, then released her, fast. “He’s sharing with Trent right now, and that’s enough friction—adding a third person to the space would cause a r
iot.”
“These are your brothers who get on, and I quote, ‘just fine’?”
A small smile acknowledged her hit. “Plus, Zack’s spending a lot of time in the gym, and running ten miles a day. His fitness probably isn’t what you want to evaluate.”
“No,” she admitted.
“If you want to see how Zack’s doing and how the team works, a week in my office will give you access to his crew-chief briefings and strategy planning. You’ll get a good feel for his strengths and weaknesses.”
“For a guy who used to be determined to keep me out of his business, you’re offering plenty of information.”
He held open a door and ushered her in. “Since our personal relationship is on its way out, I don’t expect it to be a problem.”
Silly me.
The large, sunlit office had plush gray carpet and a wooden desk, maybe mahogany, positioned to give Chad a view of the outdoors. A second desk had been set up at right angles to it. Brianna wouldn’t be obliged to look him in the eye constantly; that was something.
“Let me know if you have areas of specific interest for this week,” Chad said. “But I’m thinking mainly you’ll do whatever I’m doing.”
“If only you’d said that two years ago,” Brianna murmured.
CHAPTER SIX
CHAD’S EYES NARROWED, but he didn’t rise to the provocation. “This morning, like every Tuesday, I’ll meet with all the crew chiefs together. If necessary, I’ll talk privately to one or two of them afterward. Trent and Zack will come in this afternoon for separate briefings, again with their crew chiefs.”
He’d barely finished speaking when the four crew chiefs—Zack’s and Trent’s, plus those of Ryan Thorne, the team’s NASCAR Nationwide Series driver, and Kyle Samson, the NASCAR Camping World Truck Series driver, entered.
The meeting that followed ran with the precision of a finely tuned race car. Each crew chief shared his agenda for the week and any particular challenges—personnel or mechanical—facing his team. The group discussed everything, for the most part without acrimony. When someone did take things personally, Chad smoothed it over.
