Dangerous Race (15 page)

“At this point, I’m thinking, okay, so Timothy Sandstrom just pulled his
fifty-million-dollar
account from T & G. What does he want with me, the girl that just knocked the ad world on its ass?

“He says—” Chelsea waited to make sure she had Matthew’s attention, which of course she did. “‘Ms. Harding, I’m giving you Battle Sportswear.’”

Matthew’s grin lit up the darkened room. His fingers grazed through her hair and he stroked her temple with his thumb. “That is the most awesome story I’ve ever heard. I am so fucking proud of you.” It was as if his words had released some sort of balm to her whole spirit. His gaze drilled into hers and the sting of tears burned her eyes. She shouldn’t be so affected by those words, but she was. Totally. And she was totally affected by him. Everything about him.

That wouldn’t do. Reality returned. He wouldn’t be very proud of her if he knew what she was considering.

No way in hell could she tell him the rest of the story. How Timothy Sandstrom had dropped dead of a massive coronary a year ago and Henderson Tucker had lured the new CEO back to Tucker and Grant. Then he’d blackballed her around town and made sure no new clients walked through her door. Without the stability of Battle Sportswear, her smaller accounts had fled with the speed of a rushing river.

Chelsea felt a drop of moisture as Matthew’s erection pressed against her thigh. Her success had turned him on. Stunned that he could be affected physically with her story, and aware of the undeniable heat that radiated between them, she waited for him to kiss her, sure that talk time was over.

“So that was beginning?”

She nodded. “Tim set me up in an office. Let me pick my staff and the rest is history.”

The gleam in his eyes told her he liked success. Be it in the cars he worked on or the women he bedded. She’d come on this trip looking for a way to salvage her life. She didn’t want to fall into Matthew’s brown eyes and get lost. She didn’t have room for him. This was a meaningless fling. Maybe if she repeated it enough times it would sink in.

“That’s so great.” Matthew shook his head, but that same devilish grin played on his lips. “Man, I can’t believe that
Break the Rules
was your idea. That’s a huge campaign. It’s right up there with
Just Do It
and
Got Milk.
”

Pleasure blossomed in Chelsea’s heart at the comparison to those advertising giants. It was the biggest compliment he could’ve given her. She cocked her head and ran her hand through his hair. “Really? You think so?”

“Hell, yeah, I think so.” He leaned down and his lips brushed her ear. Arrows of desire shot through her and she couldn’t hold back a moan.

As much as she wanted to make love to him, the urge to know him better was stronger. There was no law that said she couldn’t learn more about her meaningless fling. “Wait. It’s your turn,” she said, pushing him away. “Tell me about Matthew.” She rolled to her side and touched him, grazing her fingernail lightly along the lines of his six-pack abs. Hey…fair was fair.

Matthew smiled. “It’s not as interesting as your story. I grew up in Claremont, Indiana, same as Trace and Eddie. I went to school with Ed’s niece and she knew I loved cars so she introduced me to the Graylings. Ed had his own track built on his property and it was our own mini 500.” He closed his eyes and his nostrils flared as she passed a finger over the tip of his erection. “Mother of…” He opened his eyes, full of heat and lust and desire, but he continued, “After graduation, Ed told me I had to make a decision. He said I could—should—go to college and that he’d have a job waiting for me when I got back, but that I was a talented mechanic and he could really use me now.” He grazed his fingers over her collarbone, across her shoulder and down her arm. Heat coursed through Chelsea’s body.

“He said the experience I could get working for him would be as valuable as a college education if I wanted to stay in the race world.” Matthew shrugged. “I stayed. I really didn’t want to go to college. I’ve always liked fixing things…keeping motors running, so I stayed with Ed.”

“Ed must be worth millions to have his own private track,” Chelsea said. She smoothed a finger down his stubbled cheek.

Matthew nodded. His palm traveled over the curve of her hip and along the outside of her thigh as sweet anticipation bubbled inside and started a roaring in her brain. “Yeah…he got it the old fashioned way. Inheritance. But he’s good at investing and keeping it. Racing was his hobby, but once he figured out the money he could make, it became a very time-consuming, expensive hobby.”

He rubbed against her at the same time his hand grazed the curls between her legs and Chelsea took a deep breath. She was completely primed and he’d barely touched her where it mattered. How would she ever get used to not making love to him?

“You are so hot,” he murmured against her neck.

She arched against his hand, showing him exactly
how
hot, and his fingers teased her entrance. “Matthew…cars aren’t the only motors you get running.”

The next instant he had a condom on and before Chelsea knew what was happening, he’d pulled her on top of him. Muscles in his arms and shoulders flexed as he held her just above his erection. Good. She didn’t want to talk anymore. Didn’t want to think about anything but the next few fantastic minutes ahead.

Already breathing hard, Chelsea barely contained the lust pounding in her body. She held herself just right, so that his penis barely kissed her wet opening. She wanted him so bad it hurt. “I can pretty much guarantee that there’s a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that when you slide inside me I’m going to come. Immediately.”

His lips curved into a smile and it was the most brilliant, most handsome, most blindingly beautiful smile she’d ever seen. “Yeah. Me too,” he said. “Let’s find out.” And he let her go.

The next morning, Tracey could hardly look in the mirror as she brushed her hair. She hadn’t been fair to Mac or to herself last night. Then she’d made the situation worse by sounding like a brainless bimbo. “
Tell you what?
” She cringed again at those ridiculous words. At least she’d apologized before she left. Maybe he wouldn’t completely hate her for pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Tracey dared to look herself in the eyes. Did she feel different? Did losing her virginity make her someone else or give her something she thought she’d never have? Not in this case. It made her feel like a thief, as if she’d totally used Mac and lost any credibility with him. As a woman and maybe even as a driver.

Tracey leaned softly against the door to Mac’s room and waited until she heard silence. The only advantage to adjoining rooms was being able to determine if he’d left.

She headed to her truck, blissfully alone and trying her damnedest to avoid thinking about last night. About how gently Mac had made love to her, about the spiraling climax she’d only ever dreamt about having. He hadn’t said anything, but he’d shown her with his body and with his patience how amazing it could feel to be intimate.

Tracey clenched her jaw and willed herself to forget. But she didn’t want to forget. She wanted to remember what would surely be her only sexual experience. It would never play out as it had last night. Not ever again. The chances of making lo…no it was sex…the chances of having sex with a man who never looked at her legs or noticed her scar were slim to none. She’d gotten lucky with slim. Last night was a miracle that wouldn’t repeat itself.

She reached her Navigator and stifled a groan. Her chest constricted. All four tires had been slashed. The urge to cry snaked its way through her. She should’ve been mad—furious as hell—
hell, she was furious as hell,
but for some reason a knot lodged in her throat. The crap was piling up faster than she could dig out of it.

A car pulled up behind her, the idling engine sent a prickling down her spine.

“Can I give you a lift?”

Relief spread through her at Mac’s voice. Tracey brushed aside a lone tear before turning around.

Mac sat in his white rental car looking too damn handsome and extremely cautious. “I saw the tires on my way to the car.” He shook his head, seemed as defeated as she felt. “Look, we’ve been driving to the same place at the same time for almost a week now. I don’t think there’s better time to carpool.”

Although driving with Mac ranked dead last on her list of things to do, she didn’t have much choice. “Yeah. Thanks,” she said, climbing in beside him. “I guess this wing nut is resorting to petty crime to scare me off.”
Good. Keep the topic away from last night.

Mac headed for the exit. “You can call Triple A, but we should call Detective Hahn first, so he can check it out before the auto club comes.”

Tracey nodded. “Fine.” It seemed odd…having a conversation with Mac as though nothing had happened between them. Maybe that was the best way to handle it.

“Look, Tracey, about last night.” He turned onto the main road. So much for
nothing happened.
“I owe you a huge—”

“Let’s not talk about it, okay? It’s over. We’re both to blame. Let’s move on. No one has to know.” Hint, hint.

His jaw twitched. Tracey couldn’t figure out what had him so upset. She’d let him off the hook. What could be the problem?

“Tracey…we didn’t use any protection last night.”

Protection? Birth control. Oh, hell. Tracey swallowed. “Don’t sweat it, Mac. There’s nothing to protect. My accident took care of that four years ago.” Wasn’t that just another reason a man wouldn’t want her? There were too many to choose from…

Mac’s brows knit together and he shot her a surprised glance. “I also meant that I’m healthy. Clean.” A genuine look of torment clouded his eyes before it turned to something else. Something she couldn’t read.

She hadn’t even considered the idea of contracting an STD, which only proved how idiotic she’d been last night. But it was already off the table and Tracey couldn’t stand the idea that he might pity her. “You’re off the hook. No problems.”

“Tracey, I…Jesus,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

She shrugged, pretended as if it didn’t matter. She’d learned to be a great pretender. Four years ago she had the chance at a husband and kids, but now…“How were you supposed to know?”

“I just…” Mac took a right turn. The tires squealed.

Tracey grabbed onto the armrest. “Mac, I told you not to worry about it. There’s no reason to discuss it.” Here she thought she’d gotten used to the idea…An old ache settled in her heart, but she shoved it aside. “Is there a reason you’re going so fast?”

“No, I—” He glanced down as he pumped the brake. “Oh, shit.”

Tracey’s heart skipped a beat. If she hadn’t heard the panic in his voice, she would’ve seen it on his face. “Oh, shit, what?”

“Is your seat belt buckled?”

The question made her stomach roll. “Yes. Oh, shit, what?”

“The brakes are out.”

Oh shit.
Tracey checked her belt. She closed her eyes and took a measured breath. “Okay, okay. So what are we going to do?” Mac’s death grip on the wheel was impossible to ignore. What if she was right and he’d quit driving because of his accident? What if he couldn’t handle the car? “Mac, are you okay? Can you do this?”

“It doesn’t look—” he swerved around a slow car and zipped back into the lane, “—like I have much choice.”

Tracey’s palms started to sweat. “Okay, okay…” The scenery sped by faster and she searched for an alternative. They needed open space where they wouldn’t endanger anyone. “Okay, maybe I should crawl over you and try to—”

“No!” he barked.

“Okay, okay…” Buildings and streets whizzed by in a blur.

“Quit saying, ‘okay, okay.’”

“O…all right.” Tracey took a calming breath. “We have a couple of options here.” One of which he already shot down.

“Really?” Mac’s hands were white on the wheel. “You want to share them with me?”

They were quickly approaching a crosswalk and Tracey had her gaze fixed on a boy on a bike. Her adrenaline raced. “Mac…”

“I see him. Hold on.” Mac laid on the horn and barely dodged the boy, swerving into oncoming traffic and swerving back to his lane.

Tracey held onto the door arm and the dash. Every muscle in her body tensed. “How much gas do you have?”

“Full fucking tank.”

“O…all right. Scratch that idea.” She swallowed back a wave of real fear. If they crashed with a full tank of gas…Sweat beaded her brow. “Get to the highway. At least then we won’t have to worry about pedestrians.” Luckily they were on an access road moving parallel to the freeway and Mac veered onto the entrance ramp. “We’re on an incline…this doesn’t make sense. Why are we going so fast?” she asked.

“The damn car’s accelerating on its own,” Mac gritted out.

“Try putting it in neutral,” Tracey said.

Mac put his hand on the gearshift and his muscles flexed. He shook his head. “The fucking gears are locked.”

Another idea in the crapper. Tracey looked at Mac, intense and concentrating on the road. “All we need is the green flag and the pit crew and we’d be in good shape.” Her attempt at levity sailed out the window as quickly as the car flew down the road. She grabbed her cell phone, called the police, explained their situation and flipped the top closed. “The cops are going to provide an escort.”

“Hope they do it quick.” Mac hit a pothole in the road and car bucked beneath them. “Stop doing that, Tracey.”

“What?”

“Hitting the brake.”

Tracey looked down and realized she’d been laying on a non-existent brake pedal. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She looked up. Brake lights ahead made her palms sweat. “Maaaaac…”

“See it. Not sure what to do about it.”

With oncoming traffic, he had no choice but to drive the right shoulder. Tracey covered her face as he plowed down several small road signs. A wood pole snapped and shot through the windshield between them. Glass flew from the four-inch hole and the window cracked into a million spidery lines.

Fear pounded through Tracey’s veins. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

“I sure as hell hope not.” The road opened up and Mac swerved back into a lane. The cracked windshield made visibility a two on a scale of ten. Ten being crystal clear.