The Comeback (8 page)

She swallowed her trepidation and said, “Brady, I need to earn some money while I’m back in town. Any chance you can find me something to do at that engine company of yours?”

Brady looked dismayed. “Uh, sure.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a sunny smile. The engine company had to be less intimidating than the team headquarters. And it would keep her closer to her stepfather.
I’m on to you.

Brady took the first of the dessert bowls from Julie-Anne and carried them to the dining room.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Julie-Anne said to Amber. “That was a good thing to do.”

Amber shrugged.

“We should talk about Billy,” Julie-Anne said. “Soon.” She touched Amber’s arm, and once more, Amber moved away.

“I don’t want to even hear his name,” she said.

Julie-Anne looked as if she would argue. Then she raised her hands in surrender.

And no wonder. Because she couldn’t come out of any conversation about Billy Blake without looking like a mother who hadn’t loved her daughter enough.

S
OMETHING AS PERSONAL AS
charm school demanded a strictly impersonal locale. The Matheson Racing headquarters wasn’t suitable, because someone was bound to figure out what they were up to. So Gaby asked the Getaway Hotel in Charlotte to provide a room she and Zack could use.

She had meant a meeting space. But when they arrived at the hotel, they were given the key to a room on one of the bedroom floors.

“The business center is fully occupied,” the receptionist said. “But the room we’ve given you has a table and chairs.”

Which was fine. All Gaby had to do was ignore the king-size bed. Zack wandered the space, apparently unfazed by the six-foot expanse of duvet.

“Not a bad room,” he said. Maybe because she’d helped him deflect a couple of arguments during yesterday’s dinner at Brady’s house, Zack had turned up on time, and his face didn’t bear its usual guarded demeanor.

Gaby was more nervous than her pupil, thanks to the bedroom factor.
I’m just tired.
Last night, after that dinner at Brady’s, she’d actually dreamed about Zack. Though it had been fleeting, just a few seconds of REM action, she hadn’t been able to put it out of her mind.

“Are you okay?” Zack had noticed her fidgeting.

“We need more air in here.” She fanned her face as she checked the thermostat. She turned the temperature down, and heard the whir of air-conditioning. “Do you want a coffee?”

“Let’s just get this over with.” Zack sat on the end of the bed.

“Not there.” Her sharp tone drew a curious glance from him. “Over here.” She indicated the round table near the window, flanked by two velvet-upholstered chairs.

Zack obediently relocated; Gaby took the chair opposite. She straightened her notepad on the table in front of her.

“
Now Woman
suggests several criteria for readers to consider when they vote for the Bachelor of the Year,” she began. “I plan to cover each of those criteria in our training, plus we’ll do some role-playing to prepare for some of the public events related to the contest.”

Zack shuddered.

“First up, your appearance,” she said.

His eyebrows lifted. “There’s something wrong with my appearance? You said I’m a hottie.”

Was he ever going to let her forget that?

“It’s not about looks, it’s about presentation.” Gaby scanned him and couldn’t fault his well-cut hair, which looked a little lighter than usual, thanks to the sun streaming in the tinted hotel room window. Nor was there any problem with the breadth of his shoulders, or the slate-colored polo shirt that deepened the color of his eyes.

“Your hands need attention,” she said.

Zack looked down at his fingers as if he’d never seen them before. “What’s wrong with them?”

“You’ve obviously been in the workshop.” Most NASCAR
Sprint Cup Series drivers never worked on their race car. That’s what they had highly specialized teams for. But Zack, she knew, took a hands-on interest, literally. The worse his results, the more engine oil made its way on to his hands.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hands.” He shoved them in her direction. “Take a look.”

At first glance, they were clean, but something suggested he’d handled an engine in recent times.

Gaby took his right hand in hers.
Mistake.
The slight pressure of his fingers branded her palm, and when her thumb brushed his, sensation feathered all the way up her arm.

“There.” The word came out a half gasp. Carefully, she pointed to Zack’s index finger. “Engine oil around the cuticle.”

“Around the what?”

She ran a fingernail over the offending area. He jerked away. “No one—” he cleared his throat “—no-one will see that without a microscope.”

“It doesn’t matter if people can’t specifically see oil, it’s the overall impression that counts. In a tough competition like Bachelor of the Year, where you have a bunch of guys determined to win, details matter.” She sat back. “Women appreciate clean hands. You should wear gloves in the workshop.”

He gaped. “You’re kidding.”

“Latex disposables will do the job.”

“I can’t wear gloves in the workshop.”

“You’re scared the other boys will laugh at you?” she taunted.

“I’m not scared,” he snapped.

“Good, then gloves it is. I’ll bring a box in on Monday.”

Zack glared at her.

“I notice you often wear jeans,” she said.

“There’s no engine oil on my jeans,” he said ominously.

“I’m sure you’re right.” No way was she about to inspect them! “But some of the bachelor contest events will call for more sartorial style.”

“I’m a race car driver, not a Ken doll.”

“No one would ever mistake you for a Ken doll,” she said. Nope, Zack Matheson was all living, breathing, redblooded man. “If you don’t have other clothes, I can arrange for a selection—”

“I have other clothes,” he growled.

“Excellent, I’ll look forward to seeing them.” Gaby’s knees were close to meltdown—she was proud that none of her nerves showed in her voice. Something about working for Zack toughened her up, and she liked it.

“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?”

“H
OW 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.”

O
NE PART OF
Z
ACK
’
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.”