Dangerous Race (25 page)

Not a word about him. Ouch. Maybe he deserved it. Just because he’d gotten past last night’s misunderstanding obviously didn’t mean that she had. He didn’t see any other reason why she would’ve stood him up.

“We’ve got some time before we need to be at the track,” Tracey said. “I can take you guys back to the hotel so you can shower.” She started toward the door, hesitated before saying anything else. “How’d it go in there?”

Mac shrugged. “They asked me a hundred times where I was between midnight and four and got the same answer a hundred times.”

“Me too,” Matthew said. “They shoved that pocket knife in my face like I was supposed to jump up and claim it.”

“Yeah. Same here,” Mac replied.

They all walked into the bright spring sun, piled into the truck and made the silent trip back to the hotel. Matthew checked his watch. He’d have enough time to shower and dress before going to the track. He couldn’t see how he’d make it through the day without knowing why Chelsea had stood him up.

After trudging across the lobby as if something heavy weighed each one of them down, they entered the elevator and pressed three different floors. Matthew’s came up first. Before stepping out, he grabbed Chelsea’s hand and tugged her with him. “I’ll see you guys at the track,” he said to Mac and Tracey as the elevator doors closed.

He stood in the large hallway, alone with Chelsea. He stared at her. Really looked at her.

She fidgeted under his gaze. “Look, I’m sorry about last night,” she said. “Kim needed to talk and then I fell asleep…and…” The sweet sound of her voice inched its way into his heart.

Matthew ached to pull her close. To touch the soft skin he’d come to know so well in the past week. “It’s okay.” He checked his watch. “I have to talk to you.
We need
to talk. But I can’t do it now. I don’t want to rush through this.”

She closed her eyes and when she opened them, tears glistened. “Matthew, I know you didn’t do this. I know how you feel about Tracey. You’d never hurt her. I also know, no matter how much anger you might have toward Eddie, you wouldn’t hurt him either.”

God, she thought he was talking about Eddie. Matthew wanted to kiss those beautiful lips and thank her with the one surefire thing he knew she loved. Reaching out, he smoothed his thumb across her warm cheek. “Thank you for that.” He couldn’t hide the emotion in his voice.

Her eyes gleamed a dazzling shade of blue. “I know you don’t have a lot of time,” she began. “I’m really sorry about last night. Sorry you misunderstood…I…Well, I’m sorry. I never intended for anything to…” She closed her eyes, seemed to be searching for the right words. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

Everything shifted into slow motion. Matthew’s pulse thudded loudly between his ears. There were no right words to follow goodbye. He scrambled to salvage more time. “Not now, Chelsea, please, not now. If you want to tell me goodbye, do it tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly unwilling to give him another minute. “What’s the point? Why prolong the inevitable? As soon as the race is over, we’re ov—”

“Wait. Don’t say it.” He didn’t want to hear,
we’re over.
He couldn’t imagine living without her. “Is that why you didn’t knock on my door last night?” he asked. “Because it was ‘prolonging the inevitable?’” At her reluctant nod, he continued, “Please, Chelsea. One more dinner. Let me tell you what I have to say and you can tell me goodbye. Give us one last night together. Please.”

Pain radiated from her blue eyes, as if he’d asked her to do something that might hurt, but she nodded.

Matthew leaned over and hit the elevator button before she changed her mind. “Eight o’clock. I’ll pick you up.” The doors opened and Chelsea walked away from him without a word. Would she hold to the agreement or would she disappear?

Matthew let her go, got his shower and made it to the track. Practice progressed painfully slowly. The car ran great. He should’ve been happy. Should’ve enjoyed the heightened anticipation of knowing Trace could win the race as long as the car held up. But the race didn’t matter. Chelsea mattered and the longer the day went on the more he realized it.

Chelsea sat on the edge of her bed watching the clock, expecting Matthew any minute. During her conversation with Detective Hahn, she’d realized that Matthew hadn’t said a word about her in connection with Tracey. None of the detective’s questions made her believe she might be a suspect. He’d thanked her for coming forward with the information and told her he’d check her story.

Unwanted tears sprang to the surface and Chelsea swiped away the drops, angry with herself for getting so attached to a man she’d only known a week.

Why had she agreed to talk to him again? What was the point?

Someone knocked on the door. Matthew. Chelsea hauled herself up and checked her face in the mirror. She had to say goodbye. Her life was so upside down, she couldn’t imagine finding time for a man.

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door. Matthew stood there looking much as he had on the night they’d met. Only now, wearing all black, he was even more handsome. Because now she knew what kind of man he was. Thoughtful, giving, considerate, funny. Sexy. Her list could go on for days.

“Are you ready?” His soft question made her ache inside.

She shook her head. “I can’t go to dinner.”

Determination gleamed in his dark eyes. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter? There isn’t anything to say. After tomorrow—”

“Are we going to do this while I’m standing in the hall or can I come in?”

Chelsea closed her eyes and inhaled. She needed strength. She’d say goodbye and leave it at that. Stepping back, she allowed Matthew inside. The smell of his cologne and the heat of his body made her flush. He had no idea how much he tested her.

He faced her, his brown eyes intense, resolute. How could she have thought she could stand so near him and not be affected by him?

“Trace talked to Detective Hahn a little while ago. Your story checks out. He spoke to your P.I., Mills, and he verified everything you said. He’s got letters and paperwork to back everything up too.” His low voice meandered through her, velvety soft and slow. “I’m sorry, Chels.” He took her hands, but didn’t come closer. “Last night, I freaked out when I saw you with that guy and I couldn’t think straight. But I believed you then and I believe you now. Will you please, please forgive me?” The absolute remorse in his voice undid her and emotion bubbled to the surface.

“Yes. I forgive you. I did that last night.” Forgiveness wasn’t her problem.

He took a step forward and she took a step back. “What?” Confusion filled his dark eyes. “What is it? Talk to me, Chels.”

Chelsea pulled her hands out of his grasp and folded her arms across her chest. “Why? What’s the point?” She paced away from him. “We had a great week, but it’s over. We should end it now. Besides…you—” She couldn’t finish, couldn’t tell him she was a fake.

“I what?” he finally asked softly. So softly that tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

She turned to him. “You don’t really know me,” she said. “Everything I told you about my company was true, but I left something out. I’m in debt up to my forehead and I’m about to lose everything. I’m not successful. I’m not the greatest thing the ad world has ever seen. You’re only as good as your last slogan, and right now—” She shrugged. “Right now, someone else is taking credit for my last slogan. I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He mumbled, moving closer. “I know all of that, Chelsea.”

“Yeah, because Kim blurted most of it last night.”

“I’m not talking about that.” He took her hands again. “I talked to your P.I.”

Chelsea froze and all but felt her world fall apart.

“He wouldn’t tell me specifics, but I figured it out. The business started going south, but you still sank everything into finding Trace.” He gripped her firmly when she tried to pull free. “We all go through tough times, Chels, but you never know what tomorrow might bring. I’m proof of that.” Something new passed over his face. “Unless…do you dislike me?” he asked.

“No!” she blurted, yanking free of his hold. “That’s a ridiculous question. Do you think we could’ve…I could’ve…” she gestured toward the bedroom, “…if I didn’t like you? That’s crazy.”

“Then what is it?” He stepped closer. “Why won’t you give us another chance?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m a big loser. Is that what you want me to say? I know you, Matthew. You crave success. You thrive on it. You could never be happy with me. Plus, we live in two different states.”

“Big deal. I’ll move.” His gaze pinned her. “You don’t know me as well as you think. I couldn’t care less if you never worked another day in your life. I’d love to take care of you for as long as I live. Look, I’ve been toying with the idea of opening my own shop. I can do that anywhere. I want to get off the road. I want to be with you.” He was serious. Dead serious. No joking, no smiling, just intense brown eyes staring down at her as if she were the only one in the world.

More tears cropped up no matter how hard she struggled to hold them back, because she realized she loved him. He was everything she ever wanted in a man and then some.

Matthew’s eyes held a mountain of pain. “I’m telling you right now, you’re the one I want to be with. Just you, Chelsea.” His fingers grazed her arms, down and back up again.

Goose bumps rose under his touch. Chelsea stayed mesmerized by his eyes.

“It’s you I want to touch all the time. Only Chelsea. It’s Chelsea I want to go to bed with and Chelsea I want to wake up to. You’re the one I want to hold for the rest of my life. You’re the one who makes me happy. The one I can’t stop thinking about. The one I want to laugh with and cry with. Just you, Chelsea.”

Had she been made of a block of ice and placed in the arctic, Chelsea still would’ve melted at his words. The uncertainty in her heart crumbled bit by bit.

Matthew reached into his coat pocket and pulled out some type of laminated paper attached to a thin strip of material. “These are credentials for tomorrow’s race,” he said, placing the lanyard over her head. “You’re a VIP. You’ve got access to everything.” He gently pulled her hair out from the strap and took his time as he did it. “If you think you want to come and see me at the pit…anytime…then come. If this is goodbye because you want it to be goodbye, then keep these as a reminder of the time we spent together.” His hands stayed on the straps right near her neck. His heat touched her soul-deep.

“I can’t make you feel something that isn’t there or believe something you don’t want to believe. I can only tell you how I feel and what I think.” Warm fingers grazed her skin to her shoulders, causing chills along the way. “I love you. I believe we have a future together. A very long future.” He pulled her closer.

Chelsea reeled at Matthew’s declaration. Any rebuttal or intelligent words that might’ve surfaced got lost as his lips covered hers in a soft kiss. The need to pull him closer, take him in and devour him, nearly overwhelmed her. He pulled away—much too quickly—and cupped her face in his hands.

“I mean it, Chelsea. I love you and I want to be with you for the rest of my life.” His dark eyes nearly melted her. “I want you to think about it, okay? Think about how good we’d be together.”

Chelsea stood there. Numb. He loved her.

Tracey sat at the desk in her room, a half-eaten dinner staring up at her. Practice today had been grueling, but good. With all the craziness in the past two weeks it seemed amazing, even to her, that she’d managed enough focus to get this far. Sitting behind the wheel of her car, everything fell into place. Joe, Mac, Chelsea and even her stalker took a backseat as she whizzed around the track at ungodly speeds.

Now, off the track and knowing Mac sat in the next room, her nerves were strung tight enough to make her nuts. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. There hadn’t been one spare moment to discuss last night with Mac, but even if there had been, she didn’t know what she would’ve said.

He did things to her she couldn’t understand. Made her feel things, not only physically, but emotionally, that upended her entire sense of what she thought her life would be.

She couldn’t believe that she’d actually shown Mac the scar. The second beer had been a definite mistake in more ways than one. It had muddied her brain, softened her, made her trust a man she barely knew. Or
wanted
to know.

What a lie. She wanted to know him more than anything. What made him tick? Why had he spent so much time making her feel so special?

How had she been alone for so long and been perfectly fine, and now imagining being without Mac made her so miserable? How was he able to step into her life, her heart—if she had to admit it—and change everything?

A knock at the door brought her back to the present. “Trace? Are you home? It’s me, Ed.”

She’d been so preoccupied that she’d forgotten about Ed’s usual pre-race pep talk. She hadn’t seen him since that morning in the hospital when Eddie had looked at him with such contempt. What had that look been about? Almost as if Eddie knew something about his father that she didn’t. Tracey’s doubts about Ed suddenly broke the surface of the swirling muck in her head.

She crossed to the door, pushing those doubts back with pure willpower. Ed couldn’t be out to hurt her. He didn’t need the money that bad. At least she didn’t think he did. “Hey, Ed,” she said, opening the door wide, “C’mon in.”

Ed walked toward the adjoining door. “Is Mac there?” he asked. “I may as well talk to both of you.” He knocked before she said anything. “Mac? You there?” If Ed had wanted to stuff a pillow over her face, he’d lost his chance and once again Tracey felt foolish because of her doubts.

The door opened slowly, as if the last thing Mac wanted to do was see her. Embarrassment, hot and humiliating, stung her cheeks. They’d been together all day, yet something altered their relationship. Could it be the proximity of the bed?

“What’s up, Ed?” Mac’s low voice sent a familiar hum down her spine.

Tracey forced herself to look at him and be nonchalant. “Ed wants to give us a pep talk for tomorrow.”

Ed grinned, his face scrunching up to resemble a Cabbage Patch doll. “You know my MO,” he teased.

He gave his usual “You can do this” speech. The “Concentration is key” and “Don’t let the old-timers scare you” recitation. He kissed her forehead and shook Mac’s hand then exited her room like a proud father…or race-car owner.

Mac stood, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, his dark eyes focused on the carpet, hands in his pockets. Obviously he had something on his mind.

Tracey couldn’t stand wallowing in the silence. She walked toward him, intent on closing the adjoining door and letting him off the hook. She didn’t really need to know why he’d left her last night. Deep down she knew the answer and hearing it out loud could very well crush any self-esteem she had left. But as she reached for the knob, he looked at her and she froze.

His dark gray eyes spoke to her on a different level. Her heart thumped unevenly and she forced herself to breathe. His gaze moved to her lips and the hum in her body shifted to a full-fledged orchestra with the string section pulling a chord that registered deep inside her.

The need to touch him, have him touch her, quaked through her with sharp urgency. Tracey damned the loss of her virginity to him. If she’d had any idea the outcome would’ve been this difficult, she’d have gladly stayed a virgin until her death.

Mac returned his gaze to hers. “I guess I should say thank you for picking up me and Matthew at the police station this morning.”

Tracey ignored the husky sound in his voice and noticed he didn’t mention how she’d defied his order to stay in the room. “No problem. I couldn’t really practice today without either one of you there.” She nearly cringed at the unusually high octave of her words. Her fake smile faded as Mac’s eyes drilled into hers.

“You were amazing out there today. I feel really good about tomorrow.”

She blinked. His compliments still unnerved her. “Thanks. I think you have a good plan for the race.”

“We,” he said. “We have a good plan.” Yes, they’d actually agreed on a strategy and hadn’t that been a miracle. The air seemed charged as they watched each other.

“I left last night because I thought that’s what you wanted.” His statement shot out of the blue. The answer to the question she’d asked more than twelve hours ago.

Tracey swallowed, afraid to have the conversation Mac seemed ready for. She couldn’t admit she’d wanted him to stay or that she wanted to feel him next to her now. She pulled up as much honesty as she could muster. “I can see why you might have thought that. I haven’t given you much reason to think otherwise.”

Mac stared up at the ceiling as if he needed guidance from a higher power. He took a deep breath and focused on her again. “What do you want, Tracey?”

The softness in his eyes and the low timbre of his voice nearly did her in. She wanted to go back four years and recover the life she’d lost when she crashed against the wall. She wanted normalcy. She wanted to feel loved. Be loved.

But none of those would happen because she’d never be normal.

She wanted Mac. She wanted the way he treated her…the way he looked at her…the way he touched her…Like a woman. A beautiful, desirable woman. And she wanted it for the rest of her life.

The realization almost made her break down and admit the truth. Before Mac said anything and before she foolishly blurted her feelings, she asked him the same question.

“What do
you
want, Mac?”

He watched her eyes, made her want to wrap her arms around him and hold on forever. “I want to know that you’ll be happy,” he said. “I want to know that you won’t hold yourself off from the rest of the world and turn into some recluse. I want you to tell me you’ll be okay after this race, that you’ll trust someone in the future. Not everybody is like Eddie.”

“Or you?” she asked. A look of pure devastation crossed his handsome face. Tears sprang up but she smiled through them. “Don’t worry, Mac. You taught me a valuable lesson. You said it yourself…I keep trusting you with the most important things I have. But I see it’s not stopping you from leaving.” She put her hand up to stop his protest. “I know, I never asked you to stay.” She turned away. “This is ludicrous. This conversation is insane.” Really insane, because they’d never talked about themselves as a couple, much less discussed a future.

She felt him behind her. His hand circled around her arm. Tracey squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to ignore his heat, ignore how his touch radiated soul-deep.

“Don’t you think I want to stay?” His low growl rumbled down her spine.

She wanted to lean back against him, feel his arms around her so she could at least pretend for a few minutes that everything was fine, but instead she faced him. “It’s okay, Mac. I don’t blame you. You did more than anyone else might have. But even you proved to me that I’ll be alone and that’s okay. I’m used to it.”

His fingers tightened around her arm. “Damn it, Tracey. You have no idea what you’re saying. It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t be with you because…”

Tracey waited. Saw the torment in his eyes. “Say it, Mac. Because I’m disfigured. Disgusting to look at. I—”

“No!” He shouted the word. “That’s not it, Tracey. Not even close.” Determination gleamed in his eyes. “I can’t be with you because you have more courage than I’ll ever have. You make me see how much of a coward I really am. I ran away to Europe after my accident. I ran away from everything I knew. My life, my friends, all because I couldn’t look anybody in the eye. I couldn’t get behind the wheel and I couldn’t face it.”

Tracey’s heart split open wide and compassion spilled out. “You’re not a coward, Mac. For God’s sake everybody is scared of something. That doesn’t make you a coward.” She searched for an example. “I won’t fly. I absolutely refuse to fly. I drive to every race. My Navigator has over seventy thousand miles on it and it’s barely two years old.”

“That’s bullshit,” Mac burst out, stepping past her. “You flew to Japan for a race six months ago.”

“Yeah,” she railed, “and I white knuckled the whole flight. Just like you drove the car when the brakes went out.” She approached him. Touched his shoulder. Sincerity flowed through her voice in rivers. “You saved my life, Mac. You drove. You were scared and you drove.”

He turned, showed no sign that he heard her tone or her words. “I had to do that, Tracey. What else could I do? Take my hands off the wheel and drive us into a pole?”

Tracey nodded, eyes beseeching. “Yes, you could’ve done just that, but you didn’t. You hung onto the wheel and—”

“And nearly killed you when I took us into the lake.” Mac pushed away from her and headed to his room.

Tracey reached for his arm and turned him around. She was on a roll now and not about to let him go. “You pulled me out, Mac. You saved my life. You’re not a coward. Not even close.” She took a deep breath. “Actually, I was thinking you were especially brave to even look at me after you saw the scar last night.” She turned away from him and crossed to the desk. What was the point of this conversation? There was no way for them to be together even if he didn’t feel the way he did. He lived and worked on a different continent. “Don’t worry about leaving last night. I wouldn’t have stayed if I was you either.” She listened for him to leave the room, waited to be alone so she could spill her heart and tears privately.

Instead, he stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs along the back of her neck. She hated that she craved his touch, despised knowing that when he left, she’d fall apart quicker than a rag doll without stuffing.

“You’re not me,” he whispered. He turned her, lifted her chin so she’d look at him. His voice washed over her as comforting as a warm melody. “I didn’t leave because of the scar. I left because of what that scar represents. Your will, your drive to be the best. You deserve someone with as much spirit as you have.” He shook his head. “It’s not me.”

Torment flooded his eyes and a knot lodged in Tracey’s throat. She swallowed back the hurt. “What if it is you?” she asked. “You asked me what I want. What if you’re what I want? What if I spend the rest of my life and never find anyone that makes me feel the way you do?” Tracey studied his dark eyes. “Is that what you want?”

Mac didn’t glance away as he took her hand in his. “I want to know why you showed me your scar,” he said quietly.

She shook her head a fraction. “You know why.” It wasn’t the beer. “I trusted you—” Her voice cracked. It had been so long since she’d really trusted anyone. Years since she’d put everything on the line. “I trusted you wouldn’t run.” But she’d been wrong because after the race, he’d be gone.

They had so many questions and so few answers. “When are you going to stop running from yourself, Mac? Why can’t you accept a decision you made and move on with your life? You are letting one bad accident rule your entire future. Maybe it’s time you let it go and live the way you want to live. It’s been ten years. Don’t you deserve your own life?”

He watched her, and for a moment she thought she might’ve gotten through to him. “My life’s in London now,” he said. “I’ve got a business. I’ve got responsibilities.”

Tracey nodded, her eyes stinging. She had her answer. “I understand.” She couldn’t say anything more without breaking, so she kept quiet. She dared a glance at Mac and saw the devastation in his eyes.

He reached out, put his hand against her neck and stroked her cheek with his thumb. The intimate caress made her ache for more and Tracey couldn’t find a reason to deny the pleasure of being with him one last time.

She knew exactly what he wanted as his gaze shifted to her lips and the heat between them ignited to fire. They moved together simultaneously, searching for that undeniable pleasure they found only in each other.

Lips met. Tongues tangled. At that moment, there was nothing Tracey wanted more. Not a car, not a race win. Only Mac. The familiar, faint scent of leather drifted around her and he tasted of rich coffee. She couldn’t get enough.

His arms engulfed her, pressed her to him so close that the hard ridge of his erection rubbed against her belly, the heat of his kiss seared her. She stood on her toes for more and he groaned. She pressed even closer, tried to merge their souls into one. Whatever was between them couldn’t last, but she was willing to take what he offered for as long as he offered it.

Clothes. There were way too many clothes. Her mouth never left his as she fumbled with his buttons and opened his shirt. The reward of his hard muscled chest against her hands had her breathing harder.

He pulled away long enough to strip the T-shirt over her head, then their lips connected again in a hungry game of passion. His fingers expertly divested her of her pants while she did the same for him. Less than a minute later they were naked and on her bed.

Mac’s thigh pressed between her legs and Tracey rubbed against him. “God, Tracey,” he rasped in her ear. “You turn me inside out.”

A ball of emotion exploded in her chest. She never imagined any man saying that to her, much less Mac. Mac, who bent her body to his will and showed her things, made her feel as she never had before in her life.

He pressed his erection against her thigh, moved lower, sucked a nipple into his mouth. Tracey arched into the wet heat as pounding sensation thundered through her body. “Mac,” she said breathlessly.