The Comeback (12 page)

“That’s fantastic,” he said, thrilled for her. “
You’re
fantastic.”

She radiated suppressed excitement. “You get some of the credit, helping me out in that meeting yesterday.”

“That was just one moment. It’s taken a lot more than that to bring Sandra around.” He didn’t want to talk about work, he wanted to kiss her.

Chad and Brady edged into their conversation. “What are you and Gaby whispering about?” Chad asked.

“Nothing to do with you.” Zack winked at Gaby.

“Did you ever meet a guy as secretive as Zack?” Chad demanded of his father. Zack froze—it wasn’t the first time he’d been called secretive, usually as a prelude to a family argument.

“Never,” Brady said solemnly.

Chad cuffed Zack on the shoulder. “Hey, man, the words you whisper to a beautiful woman are none of your family’s business!” He grinned.

Relief flooded Zack. “At last, he gets it,” he said to Gaby with exaggerated patience. She laughed, eyes dancing. He wanted to hold her.

“I need to whisper more words to this beautiful woman,” he told Chad. Then, to Gaby, “Let’s dance.”

He half expected an argument, but instead she stepped into his arms.

The incredible rightness of the sensation floored Zack. No way, he told himself, could dancing with Gaby feel this…significant. Not after all they’d agreed on about how wrong they were for each other.
Tell that to my libido.
The band was playing a slow sad song. He tugged her closer, bent his head.

“No way,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t even think about kissing me with your brother looking on and my boss hanging around.”

“We’ll go somewhere else, then.” Ignoring her protest, he picked up the pace so they were wildly out of time with the music. He steered her through the darkened doorway of an
anteroom. In the faint light that reached it from the main room, he could see an exhibition of sponsor logos from over the decades. “Just your kind of thing,” he said, indicating the walls.

He pulled her farther into the room, where they couldn’t be seen, and left the light off. No one would know they were here.

“What an incredible night,” she said, sounding breathless and excited.

“Motor racing history really does it for me, too,” he said.

Gaby giggled, a carefree sound he hadn’t heard from her before. “You know what I mean,” she said. “Sandra saying I’m up for the promotion, your dad and Chad kidding around with you like you’re part of the family…”

“I know what you mean,” he agreed.

“It looks,” she said wonderingly, “as if we might both get what we want.”

“Incredible,” he said huskily, no longer talking about his family or her job. Gaby rose up on tiptoe to meet him; his mouth joined with hers.
This
was what he wanted. Needed.

Zack roamed her mouth. The darkness provided an immediate, added excitement, forcing him to rely on feel. On the sensation of her lips parted beneath his, seeking and giving. On the delighted, shivery response of her body to his touch. On the small sounds of need that escaped her, echoing Zack’s own soft groan. Gaby was passionate and beautiful and responsive.

“This is such a bad idea,” she murmured against his mouth.

“I can be bad if you can.”

A stifled giggle. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Trust me, honey, this is a great idea.” He took her mouth again, ran his hands over her, felt the warmth of her body through the thin silk. She stumbled in her high-heeled shoes, and kicked them off. Zack’s lips found the column of her throat.

“Ouch,” Gaby yelped.

Instantly, he lifted his head. “What’d I do?”

“It wasn’t you, I stood on something sharp.” She hopped slightly. “Yow, ow.”

“Okay, honey, let’s take a look.” Zack fumbled for the light switch.

When the ancient fluorescent lighting flickered into action, Zack registered that Gaby looked delightfully disheveled. He bent to examine her foot.

“It’s not a cut,” she said. “I don’t know what—”

“It was this.” Zack picked up a cuff link off the floor. No ordinary cuff link, it comprised an enormous diamond encased in gold. Even Zack, who knew nothing about gems, could see it must be worth a fortune.

“Here’s another one.” Gaby bent down and picked up a matching cuff link that had ended up beneath a display case, probably scuffed there as Zack and Gaby kissed. This one was half-wrapped in a twist of tissue. Gaby handed it to Zack.

“I’ve seen these before, I can’t think who they belong to.” Zack wondered if one of the other guests had put the anteroom to the same use he and Gaby just had, and the cuff links had been pulled off in the heat of passion. He turned one of the links over and held it up to the light so he could read the engraving.

A shock ran through him; quickly, he flipped over the other link. “What the hell?”

“Is there a problem?” Gaby asked.

He passed her the cuff links. “It’s difficult to see in this light, but does that look like the initials A.C.?”

She inspected the links. “The letters are worn, but yeah. The C’s clearer than the A.”

“Alan Cargill,” Zack said. The late owner of Cargill Racing.

Gaby gasped. “These are his?”

“He wore them at every major occasion. Including last year’s banquet.” Where Alan had been killed, and where his watch and cuff links had gone missing.

They stared at each other, processing the implication. It seemed one person among this glittering crowd knew more about Alan’s death than they’d admitted.

“We have to tell the police,” Gaby said, shaken.

Zack nodded. “I think that detective, Lucas Haines, is still on the case. Chad will have his number—Haines interviewed him at one point.” Carefully he wrapped the tissue around the cuff links. “Unfortunately, we probably just obscured any fingerprints that might have been on them.” He put the package into his pocket. “I guess Haines will want to interview both of us. We might need to set aside some time tomorrow.”

“He’ll probably want to know exactly what we were doing in here.” Gaby ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it down. Her primping reminded Zack how it felt to have his hands buried in there, cupping her head.

“I’m sure he’s heard more shocking confessions,” he said. “I doubt we’ll make the front pages.” He paused. “Headlineworthy though that kiss was.”

She pinkened. “It was,” she agreed.

He kissed her again. “Hold that thought. I plan to do it again very soon.”

A
MBER HELD HER WINEGLASS
out in front of her in an attempt to create some personal space in the crowded museum. She shouldn’t have agreed to her mom’s request that she attend Patsy Grosso’s party.

It felt as if she was swimming in a sea of betrayal. Many of the people in this room had known her father, but as far as she knew, none of them had lifted a finger to help Julie-Anne. She wondered which of them had abetted her father’s addiction to alcohol. Somebody had supplied Billy with liquor after his accident, and it wasn’t Julie-Anne.

She glanced around for someone she might be able to trust. Chad and Brianna were dancing; Zack and Gaby appeared to be leaving in a hurry. Amber’s mom was at the other end of the room. She and Brady were caught up in a discussion with team owner Adam Sanford. Amber watched them. Did Brady’s grip on Julie-Anne’s arm look more than possessive…?

“Evening, beautiful,” said a familiar voice.

Amber never would have thought she’d be pleased to see Ryan. “You again,” she said with feigned irritation. She found herself smiling as she turned…and caught her breath.

Unlike most of the men present, he wore a tuxedo. Not stiffly, but with a careless grace that said he could get away with wearing it to a cookout if he chose. His blondish hair was rumpled—not like the other morning when he’d just woken up—as if he’d worked on messing it up just right. The effect was gorgeous.

Ryan measured her interest in his appearance, and grinned. “Don’t tell me I’ve caught your attention at last?”

“I was bored,” she said.

Ryan laughed. Did he take anything seriously? Amber had to wonder.

“I’m not so proud that I won’t settle for that. Let’s take a walk,” he said.

She needed to stop spying on her mom, and she desperately wanted to get away from the crowd of people who’d known her father. Ryan was surely too young to remember her dad as anything more than a name in the race program.

She tucked her hand through the arm he offered.

Danger.
Her senses flashed a warning, bells went off in her head. Maybe she was especially vulnerable tonight, with these thoughts of the past and of her father, but touching Ryan felt more dangerous than canyoning or blackwater rafting, or any of the extreme things she’d done in her job as an adventure travel guide.

Ryan’s blue eyes darkened, and his other hand closed over hers where it rested on his arm. “Let’s go, before you change your mind.”

Barely able to think, Amber went with him, letting him use his bulk to move her through the crowd that a minute ago had been too close, but that now seemed to part obligingly.

“You look stunning.” He glanced back at her, at her red dress, which made the most of her curves.

She didn’t want his flattery, she only wanted him to hold her close, to protect her.
Stupid. He’s a serial flirt, he thinks any woman is lucky to have his attention.
Though she had discovered that Libby, the team receptionist, was indeed passionate about recycling—Amber had been wrong to suggest Ryan was using her as some kind of servant.

Several women brushed deliberately against him as they progressed through the room. Vexed that she was no more
immune than they were, she said, “How many women have you said that to tonight?”

Annoyance flitted across his face. “You’re the first.”

“If it doesn’t work with me, will you try it on someone else?”

R
YAN WAS TEMPTED TO
let go of Amber and walk away. What was with the massive chip on her shoulder?

He ignored the fact that with another woman, he might well have given up at such a contrary response, and found someone more willing to play the flirtation game. She had no right to make that assumption about him. But since walking away would just prove her point, he decided to stay.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said.

She cocked her head and raised her eyebrows, her skepticism blatant.

He steered her into the museum’s internal courtyard, open to the night sky. He figured the concrete bench seat would be cold enough that she’d need to snuggle closer to him. He shrugged out of his jacket and laid it down for her to sit on.

“Thanks,” Amber said. “But your chivalry won’t change anything—I don’t want to date you.”

Ryan gave her an injured look. “My mind isn’t a singlegroove race track, you know. I brought you out here so you can tell me more about your travels.”

She laughed; he detected relief in it. “No one wants to hear about other people’s travels,” she said.

“Seriously,” he insisted. “I’ve never been farther than Montreal, for the NASCAR Nationwide Series race. I always planned to travel, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.” He spread his hands disarmingly. “Educate me.”

“Travel is something you have to do for yourself,” she said. He could tell she was trying very hard not to be won over.

“What’s your favorite place on earth?”

“Cappadocia, in Turkey,” she said instantly, as if she considered the question on a daily basis.

“The place with those weird rock pillars?”

She looked insultingly surprised that he knew it. “They have so much history,” she said, “yet they’d be equally incredible if they just sprang up tomorrow.”

She
looked incredible, her blue eyes alight with awe, no longer shadowed by whatever had been bothering her. Her mouth was full and perfect. She got under Ryan’s skin like no one he could remember.

He touched her cheek with one finger. Amber stilled. Then she relaxed. “You’re very young,” she said, as if that somehow made him not a threat.

“Very,” Ryan agreed, willing to play along if it meant he got to touch her cheek again. Or more. “How old are you, exactly?”

“I told you. Way, way too old.”

“Hmm.” His hand found the back of her neck, his thumb moved over the tender nape. She drew in a breath. “Pity,” he murmured.

Reluctantly, he made the strategic decision not to kiss her. She’d made it clear she didn’t trust him. Rushing her would reinforce that judgment.

“We should go get another drink.” He tugged Amber to her feet, and noted the disappointment in her eyes. Mingled with relief. Man, this was one complicated woman. Couldn’t she just want to kiss him, the way he did her?

As they headed down the short corridor back to the main room, a man rushed past them, smacking into Amber and sending her crashing into Ryan. The guy—Tony Winters, Ryan saw now—snarled something that definitely wasn’t an apology, and hurried on.

“You okay?” Ryan grasped Amber’s shoulders…and was shocked at the contempt in her eyes.

“What a creep,” she said. “I’ll bet he shoves other people out of his way when he’s on the track.”

Something snapped inside Ryan. “What is it with you?” he demanded. “That was Tony Winters—he’s an accountant,
for Pete’s sake, I doubt he’s ever been near a race car.” He released her, took a step back. “You think ‘slick guys—’” he made finger quotes “—like me are secret monsters, you think the gruff, unpolished guys like Brady are secret bullies. Get over it, Amber.”

Her eyes sparked, and her chest rose and fell distractingly. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Oh, yeah, Ms. Independence to the end.

“Can’t you accept that sometimes, things
are
what they seem?” Ryan thought about her response to his compliment on her appearance earlier. “Not everything has to be a big damn deal,” he ranted. “Sometimes, flirting is just flirting. Kissing is just kissing.”

He realized she wasn’t listening. That her eyes had got hung up on his lips. He took that as a cue to prove his point.

He put his hands to Amber’s waist, lowered his mouth to hers.

Soft, sexy, voluptuous. Kissing Amber was like tumbling into a new realm that made everything in his life to date feel like a mere practice for the real thing. Ryan couldn’t get enough. He teased her with his tongue, felt her response—hesitant at first, then more assertive. She kissed like the kind of woman she was—confident, yet conflicted. It made for delicious torment.

Ryan deepened the kiss. He pulled her against him, reveled in her soft curves. His hands found her derriere. Mmm.

What happened to kissing is just kissing?
a tiny voice asked inside his head. Because this wasn’t
just
anything.

The thought was enough to make him pull back, to remind him of the decision he’d made back when his race results first went south. Rule number one: no distractions.

With great reluctance, he eased away from Amber. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair tousled. She looked the way he’d imagined she would in bed.

He meant to make a snappy comment about having proved his point, but all that came out was a hoarse “Ah…”

Amber stared at him, wide-eyed. Then she whirled away, and almost sprinted back to the party. This was getting to be a familiar sight, Amber running from him. He should be relieved…but he wasn’t.

Z
ACK HAD INVITED
G
ABY
to have dinner with him the night before the race at Michigan, right after a
Now Woman
’s bachelor contest reader party being held at the track. This time she accepted the dinner invitation—it was either that, or she risked exploding from frustration. Zack had told her to “hold that thought” of the kiss they’d shared at Patsy’s party, and in the days that followed, she’d thought of little else.

But that was as far as things had gone. Zack had been honoring his commitment to the Canine Rescue Foundation, shooting an ad to support its Christmas fund-raising. Gaby had been called in to help a colleague deal with a crisis over another driver.

She’d talked to Zack on the phone, but, chatty guy that he wasn’t, it had been less than satisfactory. So she jumped at the chance of dinner.

She wanted off the roller coaster and into the tunnel of love.

From the way Zack had stood up for her in the meeting with Getaway, she figured she didn’t need to worry that he might pressure her into giving up her ambitions. Which meant there was no reason why she couldn’t date him…but it would be best to keep it from Sandra. Because there was definite conflict between Motor Media Group’s priority—keeping Getaway Resorts happy—and Zack’s priority, which was to focus on his racing. Sandra might worry that Gaby would act against the company’s interest. Gaby knew she wouldn’t.

She stood alongside him as he greeted
Now Woman’
s readers. Anyone would think there was a severe shortage of
men on the planet, going by the way some of these women threw themselves at him.

There was, Gaby supposed, a severe shortage of men like Zack.

“Don’t these ladies know you have a race tomorrow?” she asked, as Zack declined what must have been the tenth not-so-subtle invitation to enjoy some late-night activities with a blonde bombshell.

He looked at her in surprise. Then a slow smile widened his mouth. “Maybe I need to make that clearer.”

She gritted her teeth as a bevy of beauties called out to Zack, then rushed over to him. Every single one was blonde, tanned, gorgeous. Was there some kind of cloning program going on? Was it too late for Gaby to sign up?

I don’t need a tan or blond hair to run Motor Media Group,
she reminded herself.

She kept a strictly professional eye on Zack while he socialized. He didn’t appear to be flirting with anyone, but how many gorgeous women could one race car driver reasonably be expected to resist?

Maybe she should call the restaurant and asked to be seated next to someone superfrumpy.

At eight o’clock, Zack had fulfilled his obligations and was free to go. He stayed close to Gaby as they walked to her rental car.

“My, what a lot of fans you have,” she said.

He slid her a sidelong glance. “All the better to wow my sponsor with.”

“Hey, you two,” a voice called as Gaby pressed the button to unlock her car. She turned to see Trent and Kelly approaching.

“What are you doing here?” Zack asked his brother. “You’re not a bachelor.”

“Damn right,” Trent said with satisfaction. He kissed Kelly to prove it. “We had a couple of drinks and a pizza in
town, took a taxi back. Now we’re headed back to the motor home.”

Zack squared his shoulders. “Well done on qualifying yesterday,” he said. Trent had qualified ninth for Sunday’s race, against Zack’s eighteenth.

“Thanks,” Trent said, surprised.

But Zack wasn’t done. “I heard your car was running loose, which means your qualifying time was quite an achievement. I’ll have my work cut out catching up to you.”

Silence fell, in Gaby’s case due to a pride and tenderness that clogged her throat.

Trent said to Gaby, “Who is this smooth talker and what did you do with my sandpaper brother?”

Zack laughed along with everyone. Kelly grabbed her husband’s arm. “Trent’s going to quit while he’s ahead,” she announced.

“But, sugar, I was just warming up.” Trent’s plaintive protest drew more laughter, a warmth that lingered after the couples had parted and stayed with Gaby and Zack all the way to the restaurant.

They followed the maître d’ past a group of drivers and crew chiefs from Fulcrum Racing, who were engrossed in a heated discussion of track conditions. Zack half looked as if he’d like to stop and join in, but he headed with Gaby for the table they’d been given in the middle of the room. The maître d’handed them their menus and took the wine order. After he left, an awkward silence fell.

Gaby found herself feeling shy. Which was crazy, after all the time she’d spent with Zack recently. She glanced around. The table next to them was empty. No frumpy woman, but no nubile blonde, either.

“Your dress is pretty,” he said.

“Thanks.” Self-conscious, Gaby smoothed the empire line skirt that flared out softly from her black dress’s halter top. It
was a flattering style, baring her shoulders and gathering under her bust in a way that emphasized the curves.

Zack leaned forward. “Normally I love my job, but this week I’ve hated everything that’s kept me apart from you.”

Coming from Zack, whose job was his life, it felt like the nicest thing anyone had ever said to her. Her awkwardness slipped away. “Me, too,” she said. “I came so close to telling Anita to get a grip and look after her own darn client.”