Praise for Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington

“The writing team of Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington has produced an excellent novel in No Holding Back. Between the roar of engines and the cheering crowd, two people discover that nothing should stand in the way when love is the prize.”

—The Romance Readers Connection

“There is action, drama, romance and a touch of suspense, and the characters are charming, realistic and very engaging…. I recommend Risking Her Heart to everyone.”

—A Romance Review

“This third and final story about the Garrison siblings is the best yet. The main characters’ emotional struggles to find love and contentment are heart-achingly depicted.”

—RT Book Reviews on Winning It All

Praise for Jean Brashear

“Brashear skillfully intertwines a playful yet heart-tugging romance with the excitement and drama of the NASCAR world.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Jean Brashear’s distinctive storytelling voice instantly draws in the reader.”

—#1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

“Once again Brashear proves herself to be an author of fabulous richness, making her a favorite of romance readers.”

—Midwest Book Reviews

LIZ ALLISON

married into NASCAR in 1989 when the second-generation driver Davey Allison stole her heart. Though Liz’s life took a tragic turn in 1993 when Davey was killed in a helicopter accident, Liz has continued to share her love and passion for racing by hosting TV and radio shows, as well as authoring books about America’s fastest-growing sport. Liz lives in Nashville with her husband, Ryan, and three children, Robbie, Krista and Bella.

WENDY ETHERINGTON

was born and raised in the deep South—and she has the fried-chicken recipes and NASCAR ticket stubs to prove it. She has more than twenty published novels to her credit and has been a finalist for many awards, including several RT Book Reviews awards. She writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband and two daughters.

JEAN BRASHEAR

Three-time RITA® Award finalist, RT Book Reviews Series Storyteller of the Year and recipient of numerous other awards, Jean has always enjoyed the chance to learn something new while doing research for her books—but never has any subject swept her off her feet like NASCAR. Starting out as someone who wondered what could possibly be interesting about cars driving around a track, she’s become a die-hard fan, only too happy to tell anyone she meets how fascinating the world of NASCAR is. (For pictures of her racing adventures, visit www.jeanbrashear.com).

Right Before His Eyes

Liz Allison & Wendy Etherington
Jean Brashear

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE
An excerpt from Hilton Branch’s journal

AT LAST
Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

END OF THE LINE
Jean Brashear

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

An excerpt from Hilton Branch’s prison journal…

Rose is dead.

I stare at this empty page, and I want to rip it out. Howl from the pain of knowing she’s gone—that she got cancer, and I wasn’t there to help her. That she suffered God knows how much and died thinking I’d abandoned her. Thinking that I didn’t really love her.

I did. Oh, how I did.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, been selfish and cynical and cared more about myself than anyone else…but that was before Rose. Oh, God, my Rose…how can she be dead? She was everything good and pure and kind and—

I can’t stand it, but I have to because there’s more my Penny had to tell me.

Rose’s daughter, Amelia, and my baby, Lily, have vanished.

If Biscayne Bay—if that bastard Kell Saunders has harmed one hair on Lily’s head—

They have to be found. Penny says Bart has hired a private investigator. My son still doesn’t want to see me or have anything to do with me. But that’s okay, as long as he finds Lily and Amelia. Amelia’s a good kid—she wouldn’t let anything happen to Lily if she could help it. I know that.

But Biscayne Bay would stop at nothing to get their hands on the money I set aside for Rose and Lily. Did Rose tell Amelia about it? Did Biscayne Bay find her?

I want to kill them with my bare hands. If they’ve harmed my baby, I swear I will find a way… Who am I kidding? I’m helpless to do anything but beg.

But my boy, Bart, he’s a strong man and as smart as they come. If anyone can find the girls…

You don’t have to forgive me, son. But please… I’m begging you…find Amelia. Find my Lily.

They are all I have left of Rose.

At Last

Liz Allison
and
Wendy Etherington

To all race fans everywhere.
Your enthusiasm reminds us why we love what we do.

CHAPTER ONE

“HE’S LOOKING OVER HERE again.”

Sheila Trueblood flicked her gaze in the direction of her favorite waitress, Mellie. “That’s because you keep staring at him.”

“He started it. And he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at you.”

“Why would he be doing that?”

“It’s so sweet. He’s still carrying a torch. Why, I can’t imagine. How many times have you turned down his dinner invitations?”

Sheila felt her face heat. “I lost count, and I’m sure Gil Sizemore has more important things on his mind than me. Like counting his millions.”

“He has so many he probably hires people to count for him.”

“No doubt. Maybe he keeps looking over here ’cause he’s thirsty.” Sheila nodded meaningfully at the coffeemaker. “Do you have any idea who could solve that problem for him?”

Mellie shrugged. “He’d rather see you than me.” But she smiled and sailed off with a coffeepot in her hand.

Sheila sighed. “At least she’s smiling for once.”

Maudie’s Down Home Diner was currently packed with afternoon customers in search of great pie, coffee and industry gossip. The diner had become a central hangout for everyone who lived and worked in the world of NASCAR racing. Located in Mooresville, North Carolina, and in proximity to many of the race shops, customers could be anyone from NASCAR officials, mechanics, drivers, or—in the case of Gil Sizemore—race team owners.

Sheila turned back to the peach pie she’d been cutting before Mellie started in with her teasing about Gil. It’s not as if she had to look at him to describe him.

The vision was permanently etched on her brain.

At six foot three, his body powerfully built, he looked more like a cowboy from another age than a successful, modern businessman. When you added in his deep, confident voice, wavy, dark brown hair and hot blue eyes, well, it was quite a package.

She was a simple and practical woman who’d fought and scraped for everything in life since her birth in a rundown trailer park to an unwed mother. And even if the wide expanse of her and Gil’s careers—her, diner owner; him, multiple-car owner in NASCAR’s top series—didn’t separate them, then the fact that he was a wealthy Charleston blue blood who’d probably had an etiquette coach since age five easily put the cherry on the sundae.

The two of them dating? It was laughable.

Besides, she’d trusted a hot, charming guy with big plans and dreams once and wound up with a lot more than just the usual sense of betrayal and heartbreak.

She’d wound up in prison.

If Gil Sizemore, or any of her friends, found out that deep, dark secret…well, she couldn’t even let herself think about the consequences.

“I had apple,” a familiar deep voice said, startling her to the point she gasped as she glanced up. “Now I wish I’d chosen peach.”

“Hi, uh…Gil. Ah—” She ground to a halt. The man did know how to rattle her normally unshakable nature.

“Would you like a piece of peach?”

He flashed his perfect, straight white teeth in a smile. “Are you offering?”

Had she included his smile in her description? She couldn’t recall. In fact, she probably couldn’t spell her own name at the moment. “Sure. That’s my job. Pie server.”

He angled his head. “Why do you put yourself down? You’re a business owner, just like me.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

And, as had been the norm lately, she let the differences get to her. She knew her anger was rooted in both her past and the power he had over her feelings. Her longing for him wasn’t productive or acceptable. Sure, there were sparks between them, but why couldn’t he let them be? Why did she have to see him several times a week and be reminded of what she couldn’t have?

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you want something besides pie?”

“You.” He paused significantly. “And dinner. Will you join me?”

She whipped the cloth off her apron belt and began wiping the counter—a nervous gesture she hoped he never caught on to. “I have to work.”

“You can’t take one night off? Mellie could watch the diner.”

“She has a three-year-old daughter to take care of.”

“What if I provide a reliable babysitter?”

Suspicious, Sheila narrowed her eyes. “Who?”

“My sister.”

“That’s very…generous.” So why didn’t she trust the gesture? He seemed like an honorable, sincere man.

But then many did. At first.

“Why do you want to go out with me?” she asked, her tone bordering on accusation. “You could have anybody.”

“Hmm.” He angled his head, as if trying to decide.

“Could it be your malleable personality?” When she scowled, he laughed. “No, more likely it’s your strength, your work ethic, your compassion, fire and determination.” He stepped closer, his gaze roving her. “Your beautiful face and warm eyes.”

“Stop,” she said weakly, a wave of pleasure rippling down her spine. “I’m none of those things.”

He lifted his hand as if he might stroke her cheek, then changed his mind and let it fall back by his side. “Yes, you are.”

What woman on the planet could resist that kind of sentiment?

She could. She’d heard it all before, after all. Now that she finally had control of her life and her future, she wasn’t about to—

“Maybe we could talk about Mellie,” he said. “On our date,” he added, furrowing his brow. “She’s lost weight. She seems on edge all the time. Is she okay?”

He’d noticed Mellie’s weight loss and mood changes? Sheila had been telling her friends—dubbed the Tuesday Tarts because they met in the diner’s back room on that particular day—and they’d been telling her not to worry, that raising young kids was hard and Mellie would bounce back.

Of course, there was that flirtation with Bart Branch…

“You—” She stopped and wished she had a sip of water to soothe her suddenly dry throat. “You’re concerned about Mellie, too?”

Mellie Donovan and her daughter, Lily, had appeared in town in April like a gift from heaven. Mellie had been added to Sheila’s reliable staff, and in return Sheila had provided the apartment above the diner. She’d become like a sister. Over the past several months though, she’d changed, become distant. She had always been shy and slightly guarded, but something was up with her. Mellie refused to confide, and Sheila was at the end of her rope in figuring out how to reach her.

“See, we have something in common,” Gil said, breaking into her thoughts.

“One small thing.” And it was essential she remind herself of that fact. “The rest of our lives are complete opposites.”

Gil leaned against the counter. “So you’ve been saying. We could always fight during dinner. We seem to have that down pat.”

She tried to look shocked, but wasn’t sure she pulled it off. “You’re a customer. I don’t fight with you.”

“Yes, I am. And, yes, you do.”

Okay, that simply wasn’t fair. She was in self-protection mode, and he seemed to never run out of ammunition. “Maybe you’re just threatened by my assertiveness.”

He shook his head. “Nope. That’s not it.”

“Oh, I think it is. You just don’t—”

“Hey, Sheila! How ’bout those veges?”

Gathering her professionalism, Sheila glanced over at Dan the Veggie Man, as he liked to call himself. “You’re a lifesaver,” she said, then smiled brightly. “Just take everything around back. I’ll meet you.”

Dan saluted her. “I’m all yours, honey.”

“Do you go to dinner with him?” Gil asked, scowling as Dan strolled out the front door.

Noting Gil had straightened to his full, imposing, sexy height, Sheila’s mushy, susceptible heart—the one she fought to keep under armor—got, well…mushy. “No. He’s a vendor.”

“So, you don’t date vendors or customers?”

“That’s right.”

“Hey, Sheila!” someone called from the end of the counter. “Are you growin’ those peaches over there?”

“I’m comin’!”

“You—” she pointed at Gil “—go back to your table and take this.” She shoved a peach-pie-laden plate at him. “I have work to do.”

Gil leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t look now, but you’re doing it again.”

She turned her head and found them nearly nose to nose. “What?”

“Fighting with me.” He tapped his finger at the corner of her mouth. “And we could be doing something much, much better.”

“AMIGO, THAT’S A LOST cause.”

Gil chased his peach pie with coffee and fought the urge to agree with his driver. “She’ll come around.”

Rafael O’Bryan—part Brazilian, part Irish and all ambition—scoffed. “Sure, she will.”

Gil was suddenly reminded the other man had recently gotten engaged. The reclusive driver was in love with a reporter, of all people. “I thought you were all cupids and arrows now.”

“I am. For me. You and Sheila are a whole different story.”

“What’s wrong with me and Sheila?”

“For one thing, there’s no and.”

Gil paused with his mug halfway to his mouth.

“Huh?”

Rafael extended one hand. “There’s you…” Then he extended the other in the opposite direction. “There’s Sheila.”

“Why?”

Rafael shrugged. “Got me.”

The man was a veritable clam. And since his driver was certainly as stubborn as Sheila, maybe Gil could get some advice on working through the wall of defensive pride surrounding the woman of his dreams. “Why do you think we’re opposites?”

“You’re Mr. Blue Blood. She’s Ms. Blue Collar.”

“So?”

“Women care about that stuff. Especially a woman like Sheila.”

“Why especially her?” Gil asked, though he was pretty sure he knew.

“She’s been through a lot. She’s struggled and fought and become successful.” Rafael held up his hands. “I don’t know anything personal, but I know it fits.”

“Same recognizes same.”

Inclining his head in a nod, Rafael sipped his coffee.

Gil wasn’t sure about Sheila’s past, but he knew he was out of ideas on how to get her to see him as more than a loyal customer. He’d been attracted to her for months and had asked her out unsuccessfully for those months, as well. She’d always brushed him off, and they’d clashed over her constant need for distance as well as random political and social topics that came up whenever they were around each other.

He’d dated plenty of women in the meantime, trying to set aside his attraction to the diner owner, but he always felt like a fake. He was posturing, trying to show Sheila and the rest of the racing world that he was an available guy who could have anybody. Even Sheila seemed bent on pointing out he could have anybody.

Those who knew him well and were familiar with his short attention span with women had done nothing but try to point out the differences between him and Sheila. Was that the reason he couldn’t forget her or set their attraction aside? Was his continued pursuit sheer stubbornness on his part? Did he simply have a thing for golden-eyed redheads?

Or was there something more?

He watched her walk around the counter and move to a table of customers. She laughed at something one of the guys said, then patted his shoulder. Gil had to resist the urge to go over and punch the guy.

Oh, yeah, there’s definitely more.

“Why do you want to be with her?” Rafael asked, jumping into Gil’s fantasy of Sheila smiling at him instead.

“She’s hot,” Gil said automatically, but when Rafael shook his head, Gil added, “not just physically.”

He cleared his throat. There was something extremely awkward about discussing his romantic feelings. “I don’t know—exactly. But I can’t forget her. I can’t pretend I don’t want her.”

“You’ve got to step up your game.”

“Exactly.”

“A lot like the difference between being in the Chase and not.”

Gil started to argue, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a lot like that.”

“All or nothing.”

“Sure.”

“Then I’d suggest your first step is to get her to look at you like she’d rather kiss you than punch you.”

“Okay, that’s a good plan. How—” Gil stopped.

“She’s glaring at me now, isn’t she?”

“Sí.”

Great. Months of wooing for nothing. Did guys actually woo these days?

Maybe not usually, but he certainly had been, and Sheila had thrown the block at every turn. What did it take for him to get the message?

He moved his gaze toward her, found her staring at him and everything inside him warmed.

That’s what kept him on the hook.

He knew she was attracted to him. He knew something was holding her back.

He wasn’t sure what strategy would work; he didn’t know if he should even continue to try, but he wasn’t giving up yet.

However, he did have another critical job at stake at the moment. Embarrassed to have one of his guys with an up-close-and-personal view of the humiliation that had become his love life, he looked back at Rafael. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to focus on winning the championship now.”

“No kidding?” Rafael nodded sagely and seemingly without irony. “I think that’s a good move, boss.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE REST OF THE NEXT DAY, Sheila spent most of her time daydreaming or glaring at the phone, wondering if she should pick it up and cancel. As a result, she was distracted, causing Mellie to ask her what was wrong about ten times.

In the end, she kept her hand off the phone as a secret mantra reverberated through her brain—I’m going out with Gil Sizemore.

She’d told no one and still wasn’t exactly sure what she’d said to his parting question the afternoon before.

How about dinner after the diner closes?

Had she said yes or simply nodded, unable to look away from those compelling blue eyes of his?

She honestly had no idea.

Yet, here she was in her apartment, dressed in her secondhand designer LBD and prepared to open the door in a few minutes to a man she’d spent the past six months pretending—at least on the outside—was just another customer.

The fact that her heart was desperately trying to pound its excited way out of her chest pretty much told her that denial had been futile.

Since the diner didn’t close until midnight, she’d at least had the grace to compromise and agree to see Gil at seven-thirty. Unfortunately, that concession had forced her to lie to several people, including Mellie—who would need to run the restaurant—and the Tarts, who were due to meet in the back room of the diner about the time she’d be climbing in Gil’s car.

She’d told them all she was going to a seminar on business management.

Admitting out loud to anybody but the man himself that she was going out with wealthy, gorgeous, successful Gil Sizemore would probably cause any number of people to burst out laughing.

Though her friends would be thrilled, others would whisper behind their hands. Does that rough-handed diner girl Sheila actually think she has a chance with a man like Gil? Maybe she should go out with somebody her own speed. Was Dan the Veggie Man available? How about the UPS delivery guy?

She couldn’t take that humiliation.

No, she’d go on this date. She’d get away from the diner for one night. She’d pretend she didn’t have a secret in her past she could never share. She’d enjoy sitting across the table from a man she was wildly attracted to. She’d have a glass of wine.

Then when Gil realized she was nothing like him, that her life and her upbringing were polar opposites from his, he’d politely drop her off at the end of the evening, then go back to pursuing women his speed.

Which was clearly a healthy one-eighty. In a hot, eighty-thousand-dollar sports car. With leather seats and a convertible roof.

The doorbell rang, and she jumped.

Taking a deep breath, she checked her lip gloss one more time in the mirror and convinced herself she looked as good as she could manage. At least running around the diner every day and night kept her figure trim and the single pair of high heels she owned raised her five-foot-two-inch frame several inches. Maybe she could stand next to Gil and not feel like a dwarf from a children’s fairy tale.

She opened the front door to her apartment and plastered on what she hoped was a confident smile. “Hey, I’m impressed you found me without calling for more directions. This place is a little off the beaten—” She stopped, realizing he was staring at her as if he’d never seen her before. He, in fact, didn’t appear to be breathing. “Uh, Gil?”

“Hang on.” He held up one finger as his gaze tracked slowly, inch by inch, down her body. “I…wow.” He shook his head as if trying to clear it. “I think I swallowed my tongue.”

Sheila felt her face heat, no doubt staining her skin the same bright hue as her hair, which greatly annoyed her. Men didn’t make her blush. Nobody did, come to think of it.

As she cursed her Irish ancestors, she took a second to absorb his presence. He wore a white shirt, charcoal pants and a matching blazer. His wavy dark hair gleamed under the dim light, and his shoulders looked broader than ever, filling her door frame. The urge to sigh like a lustful teenager pining after a movie star washed over her.

She repressed the instinct. “You want to come inside?” she asked, stepping back and extending her arm.

Again, he shook his head. “I think that’s a really bad idea.”

Her apartment was plain, but clean. Did he not want to be seen in a back-roads place out of the high-dollar lake area? “Why’s that?”

“I might lock the door behind me and never let you leave.”

As his bright blue gaze bore into hers, she blinked. The man was forever surprising her.

Before she could decide if she liked being shocked, he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward him. His lips brushed her cheek like a whisper. “You look beautiful, Sheila.”

Was he taken off guard that she had clothes other than the jeans or plain black pants and white shirts she wore at the diner? Did he realize her dress had been bought off season at the outlet mall?

Stop it.

“Thank you,” she said finally. When she leaned back, he simply stared at her and said nothing. “We are going to dinner, right? I haven’t eaten much of anything all day.”

He grinned. “We definitely are.” He slid his arm around her waist and led her outside. “I’m just still getting over the shock.”

“Of…?”

“You accepting. You wearing that dress. I half expected you to show up at the door with your apron and insist we check on the diner to avoid being alone with me.”

She flicked a glance at him. “I haven’t been that difficult.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, maybe I have,” she conceded. “But I have reasons.”

“Which are?”

“You’re you, and I’m me.”

He helped her into the passenger’s side of his vehicle—which didn’t turn out to be a hot convertible sports car but a big, black SUV. “Oh, that clears the confusion right up.”

As he walked around and got in on the other side, she settled into the black leather seats. And noted the various gadget upgrades and spotlessly clean interior. He probably had a small army of minions who cleaned the thing hourly.

Minions? She clearly spent way too much time listening to her customers, specifically the young aerodynamic engineers who obsessed about comic books and superheroes.

In her experience, nobody with a cape and boots was going to swoop in and save the day. She had to rely on her own strength, guts and ambition to make a success of her life.

“You’re you and I’m me,” Gil reminded her as he flipped the SUV’s powerful engine to life.

“Exactly. You’re a Charleston blue blood. I own a greasy spoon and ‘humble’ is a charitable way of describing my beginnings.”

“Have you been talking to Rafael by chance?”

She stared at him. “Does anybody actually carry on a conversation with him?”

“Ironically, he’s in love with a reporter.”

“Seriously, Gil. You’re a—”

“I like the way you say my name.”

Genuinely curious, she turned toward him. She couldn’t possibly be saying it wrong. Pretty simple. One syllable. Even she could manage that. “How do I say it?”

He grinned. “Sexy.”

“Oh, good grief.” The man was the biggest flirt she’d ever known. She also recognized he was both trying to put her at ease and distract her from her point about them being opposites. “Is it short for something nerdy like Gilbert?”

“It is, in fact. My great-great-grandfather, Foster Gilbert.”

“Yeah, well, they named you all wrong. You’re no nerd.”

“Why, darlin’, I think that’s an actual compliment.”

“Seriously, Gilbert,” she repeated, putting a measure of heat into her words. “Your family owns half the state of South Carolina. You can probably trace your heritage back to the Civil War.”

“The Revolutionary War actually.”

Terrific. Up to fifteen generations of Sizemores were going to be rolling in their graves when they found out their scion was taking trailer-park trash to dinner.

“You’ve been a NASCAR sponsor for years. Now you’ve started your own team. You have a driver in the hunt for the championship. You’re a big deal.”

“No kidding?” he commented as if surprised. “And you’re not? Everybody in my shop talks about you constantly.”

“At lunchtime.”

“Not just then.”

“So dinner, too. And I bet most of the discussion revolves around Al’s cooking.”

Gil slammed on the brakes as he turned off the main road into a parking lot. “You can’t cook?” he asked in a fake alarmed voice.

She punched his shoulder lightly. “Of course I can. I did all the cooking in the beginning, but now I’m—”

“Too busy running the place. Too busy managing the staff, keeping customers happy and dealing with vendors. You think I do anything different?”

He ran a multimillion-dollar racing operation on the verge of its first championship. He had hundreds of employees, including technical, marketing and operational and administrative departments. He was regularly pursued by the press for interviews and by every single woman in North Carolina for his many assets.

She had five employees, modest savings and an obsession with making her life respectable. “It is different,” she insisted, turning to look out the window.

He said nothing as he steered the SUV through the parking lot, which Sheila realized belonged to an upscale Italian restaurant with an excellent view of the lake. She’d been there with Patsy Grosso and Susie Edmonds once. It was expensive, but the food was good and the atmosphere cozy. She’d seen quite a few couples snuggled together in the intimate corner booths and wondered if she’d ever be able to get past old mistakes and find something that special.

When Gil slid the gear into Park, she sensed him looking at her. There was no fighting the need to turn to him.

“I don’t care about your beginnings,” he said, his eyes dark and tender. “Why should you care about mine? Neither of us can change them.”

“But they matter. You can’t tell me your family doesn’t have expectations about you and who you spend time with.”

Defiance flashed through his eyes. “I’m a grown man. My family doesn’t run my life.”

So the rumors of his family’s meddling and disapproval were true. Sheila could hardly blame them for worrying Gil would lose his shirt as a race team owner. It was an expensive business, and pit road was littered with the tire treads of those who hadn’t made the right moves at the right time.

But she admired his rebellion. She’d made doing something besides becoming like her parents her life’s ambition. Seeing that need reflected in him was as enticing as any invitation or bit of flirting he’d thrown out in all these months.

He reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand. “Can we just enjoy being together? Can we not worry about our pasts or what brought us together? I want to know more about you, and I want to see you smile—not at everybody else, but at me.” His thumb stroked her jaw. “Just for me.”

For the first time, she touched him, laying her hand in the center of his chest. As his heart beat strong and sure beneath her palm, she smiled. “I can do that.”

TUESDAY MIGHT BE AN ODD date night, but in the NASCAR world, weekends were reserved for speed.

As a result the restaurant was crowded with race people.

So much for keeping her date with Gil incognito.

But Sheila wasn’t going to let exposure and possible future humiliation spoil her night. She had no illusions about this date becoming anything lasting, and she had plenty going on in her life without worrying about men, too.

She’d been alone, defensive and celibate for so long she’d gotten good at it.

Letting Gil order everything and happily surrendering all decisions for the night, she sipped a glass of Merlot and studied his profile as he talked to the waiter. Great bone structure cultivated from generations of privilege, yet he never acted like a rich guy—though, admittedly, her exposure to them had been limited.

He was like many others in the NASCAR community. He strived to run a successful business, but he loved winning.

He wanted more than anything to beat the guy in the garage stall next to him. He wanted to be the best. And while money certainly accumulated in great, tall piles, there were many who battled for trophies and couldn’t care less about race purses. Those who’d send over a tire changer in the middle of a race if a competitor’s got sick or hurt. Those who took up a collection in the garage for anyone in the community who’d fallen on hard times. Those who gave their time to visit kids in the hospital or troops fighting for peace.

“You sure your friends are okay watching Mellie’s daughter?” Gil asked, turning toward her. “I can still call my sister.”

That was what had done it, Sheila realized in a rush. What had been the tipping point in her accepting his dinner invitation. What other man would notice her best employee’s odd moods and offer free babysitting to make it easier for her to fill in managing the diner?

No man Sheila had ever known, that was for sure.

Though the Tarts had ultimately offered to watch Lily, Gil’s gesture had been extremely generous.

“They’re fine,” she said. “As long as they don’t teach her to play poker.”

He grinned, and, if possible, got better looking. “Oh, is that what you girls do back there on Tuesday nights?”

“We used to hire strippers, but that got old after a while.”

Gil choked on his wine. “You didn’t.”

“Not much to do in town if you don’t know anything about cars.”

“You’re putting me on.”

“Maybe.” She grinned. “But you’ll wonder now, won’t you?”

He leaned toward her, his wide shoulders all but blocking everything else in the restaurant. “Aren’t you full of surprises?”

She’d forgotten how nice it could be to lose her breath. “Despite my stringent work ethic, I do have a sense of humor.”

“I know. I’ve seen you laughing with your customers. Not me, of course. But plenty of other ones.”

“If you wouldn’t antagonize me…”

“Me?” His eyes widened. “All I do is ask you to dinner. Beg, even.”

“You can hardly expect me to take your invitations seriously when you’re so free with them.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“You seem to be on a mission to date every busty blonde in the city.”

“Only because you wouldn’t go out with me.”

A warm glow spread through her veins. “You dated them only because I wouldn’t?”

He struggled with his answer for a moment. “Yes.”

“No kidding?”

She was flirting. She was actually flirting with a man. Apparently it was one of those things that came back with a little focus. Up until now she wasn’t sure she’d remembered how.

Before she could recall what to do next, the waiter arrived with their salads.

She appreciated the way Gil addressed him by name, and the obvious gratitude he had for his work. The restaurant business was tough, and nobody suffered more than the waitstaff whenever a difficult customer walked in or something went wrong in the kitchen.

And suddenly her plan of one simple date, after which they parted friends, realizing they had nothing in common, was thrown completely out of whack. She wasn’t just attracted to him; she liked him.

“Speaking of dinner invitations…what finally turned the tide in my favor?”

“Mellie,” she said quietly. “Nobody else seems to realize how different she is lately. She’s always been quiet, but she used to tell me everything, and now I can barely get a yes or no to a direct question. Then there’s this weird tension between her and Bart Branch.”

“Sorry, I don’t have any insight there. We’re trying to kick his butt on the track every week. If he’s miserable, then…yippee.”

Sheila rolled her eyes. “Does everything have to be about racing?”

“I assume that’s a rhetorical question.”

CHAPTER THREE

GIL COULD BARELY BELIEVE the abrupt change in Sheila.

Usually, she found a way to put him off, disagree with him or downright ignore him. This was the woman he’d known existed under her tough, stubborn exterior.

Why couldn’t Mellie have been on the verge of a breakdown months ago?

Ah, well, that probably wasn’t too compassionate. A thought he should keep to himself rather than share with Sheila.

He cleared his throat. “Hang in there. You’ll get through to Mellie eventually.”

“You’re sweet to be so supportive. And, trust me, I’m not the type to give up.”

Something else they had in common. “I’m sweet now, huh?”

Shrugging, she said, “I always figured you were a great guy, but I don’t trust easily. Nothing personal.”

She’s struggled and fought, Rafael had wisely told him. Gil wasn’t an elitist. He knew few people had been raised in the luxury he had. Yet, she seemed to have come out the other side of her problems, free, stronger, in control of her life and future, while he still had to battle for every decision, every moment of peace. His mother, in particular, was constantly nagging him to stop working so hard, come home to Charleston and settle down.

He envied Sheila’s resiliency.

The waiter brought their entrées of manicotti and lasagna, and the homemade marinara sauce was as fresh and amazing as ever.

He accepted Sheila’s compliments about his choices with a nod, and they enjoyed the meal in a few moments of silence before he turned back to the important issue at hand. “Who made you so suspicious?”

She stared at her plate. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me.”

“I don’t want to spoil the night.” She glanced at him, wariness evident in her eyes. “Some other time?”

“How about on our second date?”

“What second date?”

“The one we’ll have this weekend. Come with me to Texas.”

She blinked. “Go away with you for the weekend?”

“Yes. The race is there, so we’ll be spending a lot of time at the track, but you know most of my guys anyway from the diner. I’ll take you to this great steak house for dinner, and—”

She held up her hand. “You want me to go away with you for the weekend?”

Noting the hard expression on her face, he realized he’d impulsively pushed in the wrong direction. “Whoa. Separate hotel rooms. I’ll get you your own rental car, if you want. You can come and go as you please.” He covered her hand with his. “I just want to be with you, and my weekends are complicated.”

The tension left her body, and he was grateful he’d learned enough about her to be able to head off a conflict. He didn’t want her thinking he was only interested in getting her in his bed, which he most definitely wanted, but her body wasn’t the only part of her he was attracted to.

“I don’t sleep around,” she said, her expression fierce.

He went still. “I never believed you did.”

“Just because I’m not some high-society debutante doesn’t mean I don’t have standards.”

“I know.” And she clearly had no idea how many debutantes didn’t. “I didn’t mean to push you. Or insult you.”

Mr. Blue Blood and Ms. Blue Collar. Geez. He owed Rafael again.

He’d already told her he didn’t care about their beginnings. It seemed with Sheila he’d have to not just say, but prove.

“I just want to spend time with you. That’s all. And, yes, I used to prefer blondes, but I suddenly have an irresistible thing for redheads.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “One in particular.”

Her eyes widened; her breathing quickened. “I like you, too. But my weekends are complicated, too. I have a diner to run.”

“What about Mellie? Can she run things for a couple of days? Al is there for backup.”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You’ll ask her?”

“I’ll think about asking her.”

He brushed his thumb against her lips. “Okay. That’s enough. For now.”

“Okay.” She offered a small smile. “You definitely have good taste in restaurants.”

As they finished the meal, he enjoyed watching her. She was beyond lovely with her hair loosely curled around her face instead of pulled back in her usual ponytail. And her body was amazing in that black dress. Her legs alone could inspire a man to poetry and serious emotional commitment.

He also liked seeing her open and relaxed. Though he had no illusions about her being a happy-go-lucky girl anytime soon, he knew they’d taken the first step to building, well…something.

After dinner, he drove her back to her apartment. Not because he wanted to necessarily, but with her trust issues, he figured it was unwise to push. Besides, they might have the weekend to look forward to.

If she could see how mixed everything was in the racing world—people from all economic, social and academic backgrounds working together to achieve common goals and dreams—she’d fall head over heels for him.

Hey, as long as he had dreams, they might as well be big.

He unlocked her front door, then accepted her invitation to come inside, where he stood awkwardly in the small foyer.

“You want some coffee?” she asked.

“No. I mean, I shouldn’t.” When he saw the disappointment on her face, he sighed. He hadn’t been this unsure and off balance since he’d tried to kiss Missy Williams behind the bleachers at the sixth-grade dance.

“I’d like to stay for coffee, but I know you have a long day tomorrow.”

“Okay. Well, thanks for dinner. I had a nice time.”

Then he remembered he’d succeeded pretty well at kissing Amelia behind the bleachers.

“Nice, huh?” he asked, sliding his arm around her waist. “I thought I might rate a little bit higher.”

She laid her hands against his chest as she looked up at him. “Dinner was wonderful.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His pulse picked up speed as her gaze dropped to his lips. “I was hoping to impress you.”

“You did,” she whispered.

When he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers, he heard her breath catch, and it was the sweetest, most amazing thing he’d ever felt. Holding her against him, absorbing her essence and energy intoxicated him.

The fire that beat so surely in her heart drew him in.

His passion had always been for business, for proving to his family that he could make his own way, have his own life. This was something entirely different.

The chemistry between him and Sheila was as powerful. Not just an empty flirtation—one like so many others.

Now a new spark had been lit.

And he wanted, more than anything, to coax it into a flame.

Suddenly, she stepped back. “Stop.”

Caught in the moment, he reached for her until he got a glimpse of her face. The resolve, the concern. His heart racing, he held up his hands. “Okay.”

“I can’t do this. I—” She turned away. “We don’t belong together.”

“Why not?”

“I drive a used sedan and live in a sparsely furnished apartment,” she said, looking back. “You have a mansion on the lake. I barely finished high school. You went to elite private schools and graduated from college with honors. I was raised in a trailer park. You were raised in, what?” Her mouth twisted harshly. “Oh, yeah. Yet another mansion.”

His heart pounded against his chest for an entirely different reason. Fear. Fear that he was already losing her. “I don’t care about any of that.”

“I do! Do you know how many of the people who saw us tonight are talking about how ridiculous we are together?”

Her defeatist attitude was stirring his own anger. This wasn’t a woman who gave up on what she wanted. “I definitely don’t care about that.”

“Yeah? Well, how ’bout this…my father ran out on my mother when he found out she was pregnant with me, and I haven’t fared much better with my choices in men.”

He knew she’d hate his pity, so he pushed it aside. “Hey, better choice, standing right here.”

“I can’t lead you on.”

“You’re not.” Taking a deep breath, he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Was it the kiss? I didn’t mean to get so carried away. I just…”

Never experienced anything that incredible.

Shaking her head, she stepped back, even though heat lingered in her eyes.

“Come with me to Texas, then see how you feel.”

“I can’t.”

“Fine.” He whirled and strode to the door, closing it behind him with a quiet click.

No, Sheila didn’t give up what she wanted. Which must mean she didn’t want him much at all.

“OKAY, SPILL IT.”

In the process of making a fresh pot of coffee, Sheila glanced at Rue Larrabee, one of her closest friends and bombshell owner of Cut ’N’ Chat, the hair salon a few doors down from the diner. “What would be the point of making it now if I’m just going to spill it later?”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

Sheila held up the empty coffeepot before sliding it beneath the dispenser. “Fresh, hot beverages. What are you talking about?” Though she unfortunately knew.

Rue waggled her finger. “Don’t be cute. You know why I’m here.”

“Cute is my middle name.”

“Ha!” Her hair, currently dyed a shade of red a bit brighter than Sheila’s, swung as she leaned against the counter. “Clam is more like it. You had dinner last night with hot and delicious Gil Sizemore.”

Sheila had known the crowded restaurant would send her incognito plan straight to the Dumpster, but she hadn’t expected to be ambushed before 10:00 a.m. “Let’s go in the back and talk.”

The back room behind the storage room was the clubhouse of the Tuesday Tarts, a group of women who met each week to share triumphs and troubles along with coffee, dessert, wine and, in Sheila’s case, the occasional glass of whiskey.

Rue settled onto the sofa. “Spill it.”

Sheila stood with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t about to get comfortable, since she didn’t plan on this taking long. “We had dinner. It was nice.”

Looking as if she was planning to hang out all day, Rue leaned back into the cushions and examined her manicure. “Any particular reason you wanted to keep your little rendezvous from your closest friends?”

Sheila raised her eyebrows. “Rendezvous? You’re making way too much out of this.”

“He’s been chasing you for six months, then you—out of the blue, I might add—take him up on his offer, lie to your friends about where you’re going, then pretend the whole thing was no big deal.” She laid her hand on her chest. “Pardon me if I’m a bit confused.”

“It was dinner,” Sheila insisted. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh. You and Gil, alone together—finally, I might add—for hours and all you did was eat?”

As Sheila felt a blush rise up her neck, she tamped down her emotions. “Yes.”

“Bull hockey.”

All she needed was for Rue to get wind of the hot, mushy feelings she had, stronger than ever, for Gil. “Look, I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t want you guys giving me the third degree about one date. I needed a night off. I accepted Gil’s offer to get him to back off. End of story.”

“At the risk of repeating myself, bull hockey.” Rue rose slowly, her determined gaze pinning Sheila in place.

“You’re as flushed as a redhead’s Fourth of July trip to Myrtle Beach.” She smiled slowly. “Guilt or Gil’s work?”

Frustration didn’t even begin to cover the moment. While Sheila had shared more with the Tarts than she had anybody, they didn’t know everything. They didn’t know the worst. They didn’t know how often she’d lied. How could she explain her reluctance to make the same old mistakes when Rue didn’t even know about the missteps in the first place? “Why are you here?” she asked, somewhat desperately.

Rue laid her arm around Sheila’s shoulders. “Didn’t the Tarts get me a good man? It’s time to return the favor.”

“You and Andrew are perfect for each other. Gil and I are all wrong.”

“You mean ’cause his family goes back to the Civil War and yours started in a trailer park?”

Sheila tried to work up a smile. “It’s the Revolutionary War actually.”

“No kidding?” Rue’s brown eyes turned speculative.

“I wonder how much money and power really does fill the family coffers?”

“Rue…”

Her friend waved her hand casually as if the entire basis for Sheila’s reluctance to get involved with Gil—the past—could be dismissed like a fly. “It hardly matters. Gil earned his own fortune, after all.”

“Years of successful companies, NASCAR sponsorships and marketing brilliance do tend to add up to a positive bank balance.”

“Brilliance, huh? He did make quite an impression, I guess.”

“Rue…”

“Look at it this way,” she added, undaunted. “Racing is expensive, right? If he doesn’t win the championship, maybe he’ll lose everything.”

The woman had lost her mind. “I seriously doubt his financial situation is that precarious.”

“Probably not.” And she had the nerve to look briefly disappointed. “So tell me this…are the rumors about conflict with his family true? I’ve heard they didn’t want him to sell his megasuccessful businesses to go into the car-racing business.”

“They’re true.” And Sheila didn’t think she was telling anything Gil wouldn’t say himself. He was proud of his rebellion. A quality that only added to his attractiveness. Maybe she was crazy to push him away.

Though nearly every man in her life had been a thief, a con or a downright creep, Gil was none of those things.

But then the problem wasn’t just the faults of the men she’d dated. There were her own transgressions. Ones Gil would never understand and certainly wouldn’t want to be associated with.

“See,” Rue said, breaking into her thoughts. “You’ve both made your own way in the world. What else do you want to have in common?”

A passion for hot, steamy kisses in the foyer of my apartment. “Absolutely nothing.”

“I’m not buying that for a second, Miss Clam. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Did he kiss you goodnight?”

The abrupt question had caught Sheila off guard, so she started to instinctively nod. She stopped herself just in time and narrowed her eyes.

“He did!” Rue exclaimed with a broad smile. “How was it? Come on, give details. You know I won’t tell anybody—well, not many people. Just the ones who come in my shop. You and Gil Sizemore. It’s so yummy.” Sheila knew she had her intimidating stare down cold. What was wrong with her? All those mushy feelings, no doubt. Emotions that would only lead to a broken heart.

Again.

“You come on,” she said, jerking away from Rue.

“And don’t tell another soul. I’d be a joke in this town. Me and Gil Sizemore? Get real.”

Rue lost her teasing expression. “I am. Are you?”

“Reality is kind of my specialty.”

“Honey, that defensiveness won’t work with me. Or with Gil, either, I expect.”

She’d hurt her friend’s feelings. Damn. Couldn’t she do anything right? “I didn’t mean—”

“The very last thing anybody would do is laugh about you,” Rue said, her eyes fierce. “People admire you. All of us Tarts, your customers, your friends. They see you care for everybody in sight and work yourself to the bone in the meantime. Everybody would be happy if you found something besides the diner to love.”

Maybe she had escaped poverty. Maybe she’d become a successful business owner. But she’d only gotten those things after prison, after a sympathetic guard had mentioned her brother owned a restaurant in Charlotte. He’d hired her despite her record, taught her the restaurant business and even given her a loan to buy the diner.

While the Tarts knew some of that history, they didn’t know why she’d really left Florida. They, like Gil, would never trust her again if they found out.

With a dramatic huff, Rue headed to the door. “When you’re ready to be reasonable, call me.”

“Rue, I—”

“These just came for you, Sheila.” Mellie stood in the doorway with a huge bouquet of flowers—daisies, roses, carnations, daffodils, lilies. There didn’t seem to be a flower or a color that wasn’t represented. “Pretty impressive, huh?”

Sheila refused to acknowledge the smirk that was surely on Rue’s face and took the vase with a quiet thanks to Mellie. She set the arrangement on the coffee table, which it pretty much took over.

Without looking at the card, she knew the sender, but her hands trembled anyway as she opened the envelope.

She also knew Rue stood behind her and read the one word on the card: Texas?

“Must have been some kiss,” her friend commented. “How about sharing some tips at the next Tarts meeting?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“LOVE ISN’T ALWAYS ROSES and daffodils.”

Pacing his office, Gil stopped to stare at his baby sister. “That’s what I sent her.”

“Oh, well, nice touch,” Marley said with a shrug. “I was speaking metaphorically anyway.”

He slid his hands in his pockets. “It won’t matter. She won’t care.”

“About the flowers?”

“About me. Can we stay on topic?”

Marley lifted her hands. “I’m trying. You’re the one who’s suddenly nuts.”

“You’re out there doing…whatever with one of my drivers.” Actually, he didn’t like to think about it much, so he pushed that issue aside.

“I’m engaged to Linc. What’s wrong with that?” She paused, but before he could give her a detailed list, she added, “Oh, right, I forgot. You think you’re CEO of my love life.”

Now that he was turning to her for help, Gil suddenly regretted being so overprotective of Marley regarding the men in her life. One in particular.

“News flash, brother dear,” she continued. “You’ve dated a lot more than I have.”

“This isn’t dating. It’s a—” He stopped and cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure how to say fascination without sounding like a wacko. “It’s something else.”

Now it was her turn to stare. The shocked blue eyes looking back at him mirrored his own, which, frankly, didn’t do much for his state of mind.

“Talk about falling hard and fast,” she said.

Gil sank into the chair behind his desk. “I’m a wreck.”

“And without a soft wall in sight.” She patted his hand. “So, you really think the opposing backgrounds is the primary issue?”

“Yes, but I think I could overcome that with time. There’s something more.”

“Like she’s embarrassed to be seen with you? I’ll admit I’ve been there, but—” He silenced her with a glare. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Residual aggression from adolescence. You could’ve pulled my ponytail less often, you know.”

“You could have been less annoying, but that clearly comes too naturally to suppress for long periods of time.”

“You could suppress the need to try to run my life.”

“You need my guidance.”

Silently, they faced each other across the big mahogany desk.

She was his direct line to his sponsors, and he was her ticket away from debutante balls and their matchmaking mother, who’d lately taken to popping up at the office unexpectedly and offering unsolicited advice on making proper marriages and the future of the Sizemore line.

Gil and Marley were bonded by more than blood. They needed each other.

“There’s something more?” Marley finally prompted, leaning back in her chair.

Relieved she was going to take this seriously, Gil nodded. “Something I’m not sure I’ll ever get Sheila to talk about, and if I want to be with her—which I definitely do—then I need to find out what it is.”

“She’s a confident woman. I can’t imagine why she’d care about how differently you were raised.”

“Or what anybody thought about us dating. That was the thing that made me realize she was holding back.”

“You’re not a woman. She does care about what people think in one crucial way—she doesn’t want to be compared to your colorful past.”

“What colorful past?”

His sister grinned. “The blondes, brunettes and redheads.”

He clenched his fist. “She wouldn’t go out with me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Pine away in your lonely mansion writing sonnets to her beauty.”

Sighing, Gil leaned back in his chair. “Women are too damn much trouble.”

“Oh, I imagine you can think of some benefits to having contact with us.”

He pointed at her. “Don’t even think about bringing sex into this.”

“I love how the male mind works.” Marley shook her head. “I didn’t. But since you brought it up, are you sure your invitation to Texas was low-key?”

“I assured her we’d have separate hotel rooms. I offered a rental car at her disposal. I told her I’d have to work a lot, but she was free to hang around or do her own thing. I promised intimate dinners and anything else she dang well wanted.”

“Well, then I’m forced to repeat myself and say nice touch.”

What inane part of his brain had locked on the idea of asking advice from his little sister? Her teenage infatuation with driver Linc Shepherd caused her to set his race car on fire. Now he was frustrated, confused and his head hurt. “Have I mentioned you’re lousy at romance?”

“I have a boyfriend. One you could have been a bit more helpful with, by the way…” She must have noticed the contrition on his face then, because she waved her hands. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you my best advice.”

“Today?” he asked when she fell silent.

“Keep at it.”

“Keep at it? Oh, well. That’s brilliant. Should we use that as a new marketing slogan? I can see it in lights now—Getting Your Butt Kicked in Life or on the Track? No Big Deal. Just Keep at It.”

Marley rose, leaning over the desk. “Yep, that’s what you need to do all right. You’re here all pitiful and sending flowers, being complacent and whining, and I’m telling you not to give up. You want Sheila, then go after her. You’ve flitted from girl to girl for quite a while—when you weren’t obsessing about your precious business deals and how I run my life, that is. She’s got issues beyond wondering how loyal you can actually be, so you’ve got to overcome them. Show her you’re a man to be trusted. Show her how much you care. Don’t pick up the phone, call a florist and spend a bunch of money. Go to her with one flower and a lot of understanding.”

Okay, so maybe that was good advice.

Still, he scowled. “You couldn’t have said that ten minutes ago?”

Marley turned and headed for the door. “I did. Love isn’t all roses and daffodils, you know.”

Finally, all she’d said clicked into place. “I can’t expect her to fall into my arms with just compliments and invitations. If I want to win her over, I’ve got to prove she’s the one I want.”

In the doorway, Marley flashed him a wide smile. “And the lightbulb finally goes on.”

“Hang on.” Gil rose. “What if that doesn’t work?”

“Then you’ll die lonely and bitter.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on, there are other fish in the sea and all that jazz.”

Were there? Gil couldn’t imagine trying to catch them. All he saw was Sheila.

“Just so we’re clear,” Marley added, “I’m all for you finding somebody—besides me, that is—to deal with your temper and drive for perfection. Mom and Dad, however, will most definitely feel different about your choice.”

With a wince, Gil remembered a race last month that his mother had turned up at—along with a young, attractive friend of the family. “Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know.”

AT 12:05 SHEILA LOCKED the diner’s front door, then retreated to the back for a glass of whiskey.

Leaning against the counter, she toasted the empty break room. “Drinking alone in the dark. How pathetic can you get?”

Brooding didn’t suit her, but she had cause at the moment.

Rue’s Give Gil Another Chance campaign had been followed up by visits from Grace, Patsy and Sophia. She was determined to put the man out of her mind, and everywhere she turned, somebody was singing his praises.

She glared at the flowers on the table.

Why didn’t they all understand she didn’t belong with a man like Gil? Money and social status aside, they’d never fit. He was honorable and generous, and though she was trying to be the same, her past mistakes could never be forgotten. The humiliation of him learning what she’d done was a moment she could never face.

She doubted he’d be so hot to date her if he knew she was an ex-con.

The distinct sound of somebody tapping their keys against the front-door glass echoed through the empty diner. Setting her tumbler down with a sigh, she headed toward the interruption. She hoped Al’s car hadn’t broken down again. With all the engine specialists in this town, you’d think he could find one that worked.

When she was steps away from the door, she noticed the shadow of the person standing outside. Way too tall for Al.

Gil.

Despite her vow to snap off their relationship, and knowing she was no good for him, her traitorous heart had other ideas. It fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.

She unlocked the door and extended her arm to invite him inside. “It’s pretty late for coffee and pie.”

He handed her a single red rose. “I came for you.”

Her heart stuttered. She was supposed to resist this? Why did he have to make things so difficult? “You investing in floral shops now?”

“Since you so clearly love them, I should buy a dozen.”

“Yeah, well, I imagine you could afford to.” Avoiding his gaze, she turned toward the back room. “I was having a whiskey,” she said as she walked away.

Naturally, he followed. “I was going to offer to take you to a new wine bar that just opened up by the highway.”

“Wine is for wimps.”

“You were full of compliments about the wine last night.”

“That was then.”

He faced her, his gaze searching her face and not seeming at all intimidated by the keep-away vibes she was throwing in his direction. “You’re in a mood.”

“Yeah. A bad one.” She glanced at him, holding up an empty glass. “Wanna join me?”

“Why not?” Once she’d tossed in ice and poured out a measure of whiskey, he took the glass and toasted her.

“I’m already miserable. How much worse can things get?”

As he sipped, her temper flared. He was gorgeous, popular, successful and rich. “What do you have to be miserable about?”

“You. And if you hold that rose any tighter it’s going to snap.”

Deliberately, she set it on the counter with great care. “How could I possibly have the power to make you miserable?”

“I want to be with you, and you’re determined to reject me. That, alone, is enough. But seeing you here, by yourself, exhausted, drinking in the dark as if you just lost your best friend sends the miserable quotient over and above.”

As controlled as he seemed, she recognized that he was in a towering fury. The sparks in his blue eyes could have started an inferno with a single blink.

Given his size, she should have been frightened. She’d seen the violent side of a man before. No matter how far she’d come, those memories lingered. Probably always would.

Yet, she felt no fear of Gil.

Was it the Tae Kwon Do she’d learned? Was she so different from the impressionable girl she used to be? Or could it be the simple fact that the man before her was like no other in her life?

He needed her for reasons she couldn’t begin to understand, so she had the power to hurt him.

And the thought of doing so humbled her.

“I’m not who you think I am,” she said, lifting her chin in challenge, knowing she had to warn him.

“And isn’t that the problem? I don’t know you.” He moved closer, and her breath clogged in her throat. “I want to.”

Continuing to see him without telling him about her past was lying, right? How could she look into that beautiful face and not spill every thought, need and emotion? “You’re too old for me,” she said in a rushed, last-ditch excuse.

“You’re ten times my age.” He took her glass from her hand, then set it with his on the counter behind her. “Or at least there are times it seems you’ve lived a hundred years.”

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart, Gil Sizemore. No wonder you’re forty-one and un married.”

“I can’t hang on to the one woman I’m seriously interested in for more than a single night. How would you expect me to get married?”

Sheila squirmed for the first time in years. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Clichés, huh?” Laying a hand on either side of her, he caged her against the counter. “I expected better.”

With the heat pumping off him, met by her own desire, she couldn’t seem to remember her own name, much less why she was so determined to resist him. “It’s been a long day,” she said weakly.

“How about we make it better?” He dipped his head, brushing his lips across her jaw. “Come with me to Texas.”

In her experience, happiness was flighty and intermittent, so why shouldn’t she grab some of it for herself? It certainly wouldn’t last, but protecting herself from the power of his smile didn’t seem to be an option anymore.

He’d already dragged her under his spell.

“All right.” She laid her head against his chest. “Sure.” She inhaled the exotic scent of his cologne. “Okay.”

“Three yeses, huh?” Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head. “I always get much more from you than I expect.”

CHAPTER FIVE

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, SHEILA found herself on board Gil’s private plane headed to Texas.

The luxuriously huge, soft-as-butter beige leather seats alone were enough to make her jaw drop, but there was also plush navy carpeting, flat-screen monitors on the walls and a table set up with an array of drinks, cheese and crackers, and a giant crystal bowl of fresh fruit.

Gil introduced her to the other passengers, including Double S Racing’s chief engineer, CFO and operations manager. Sheila had seen them all at the diner at one time or another, but strangely enough no one seemed to find it unusual that she was there with their boss. Maybe he brought a different woman aboard every week.

His sister, Marley, who served as sponsor relations director, was also part of the group.

“We’re so glad you’re coming with us,” she said quietly to Sheila when Gil slipped into the cockpit to speak to the pilot. “Maybe Gil will resist the urge to hold a strategy meeting.”

“Workaholic, huh?” Maybe they did have more in common than she’d realized. “I guess I haven’t really seen that side of him.”

“He makes the drivers seem low-key.”

“Aren’t they? They’re always smiling when I see them.”

“That’s because you’re feeding them. Trust me, you’ll get a different viewpoint this weekend.”

From town gossip Sheila knew Marley was engaged to Linc Shepherd, one of Gil’s drivers. Tall, dark-haired Marley with her Sizemore beauty and black-haired Linc would probably have kids even better looking than their parents. Impossible as that seemed.

“You aren’t telling Sheila any stories you shouldn’t, are you?” Gil asked as he walked up.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marley said, somehow succeeding in looking both innocent and capable of mischief at the slightest urge.

“What stories?” Sheila asked.

“My baby sister thinks it’s hilarious to tell people about all the stupid things I did as a kid. And the more humiliating, the better.”

Marley flipped her long, dark hair off her shoulder. “Humph.”

“But I’m still the favorite son.”

“You’re the only son.”

Gil grinned. “Being surrounded by women was always a great burden.”

Sheila gave him a meaningful look. “Excellent practice for your adult life. My waitresses—among others of the estrogen variety—fawn over you shamelessly.”

“It’s a crime to be popular?” he asked with a teasing note of defensiveness.

“Depends on who you’re interested in impressing,” Sheila returned, her gaze locked with his.

Again with the flirting. Did Gil naturally send her to adolescence or inspire a fun, engaging side of her she thought she’d lost over years of disappointment?

Marley patted his arm. “Don’t worry, brother dear, I won’t spill anything. I actually like Sheila.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot said before Sheila could further question Gil. “Please take your seats. We’re ready for takeoff.”

Gil led Sheila to a pair of seats in the back of the plane. As she hooked her seat belt, it suddenly occurred to her that this little metal tube—as luxurious as it seemed—was about to be several thousand feet off the ground.

This sensation went straight from her gut to her mouth, which she used to babble nervously. “What did Marley mean, she likes me?”

“She likes you.”

She jabbed him lightly in the stomach with her elbow.

“As amazing as it seems, I’d figured that much out. Does she not like many people?”

“Marley gets along with everybody—one of the key reasons she’s so good at sponsor relations. My mother used to say she could charm the ticks off a hound dog.”

“Your mother? I thought she was Queen of the Debutantes.”

“She is, but Queen of the Deep South chapter.”

“Ah. That still doesn’t explain Marley’s comment, though.”

“I guess not,” he admitted reluctantly. “I’d imagine she was referring to the fact that since her and Linc got together she’s been retaliating against my overbearing interference in her love life by expressing her displeasure over mine.”

“I see.” Sheila shook her head. “No, actually I don’t.”

“She doesn’t like the women I date.” He started counting off reasons on his fingers. “Too prissy, too dingy, too self-absorbed, too catty, too lazy.”

She peeked out the window and noticed they were moving rapidly down the runway. “Is that all one girl, or several?”

“More than one,” he hedged. “Are you nervous about flying?”

“No, I—” She could feel the plane start to lift off the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m fine.”

“Then you’re cutting off the circulation in my leg for fun?”

Glancing down, she saw her white-knuckled hand gripping his thigh. She let go immediately. “Sorry.”

He snagged her hand and held it between both of his. “Look at me.”

With her stomach doing somersaults, she did as he asked. The steadiness in those blue eyes calmed the worst of her fears. “I don’t fly very often and never in a plane this small. It’s safe, right? I mean, are you sure it can stay up all the way to Texas?”

“I’m sure.”

“What if we go through one of those bumpy clouds?”

“The plane’s smaller size actually allows for greater maneuverability with that type of thing. And Peter is an extremely experienced pilot.” He smiled gently. “Do you think I’d put you in danger?”

She shook her head. Gil’s protective instincts were as firmly engrained as her defensive ones.

The question was, who was going to shield her heart from falling for him?

GIL COULDN’T REMEMBER enjoying a flight more.

He generally used the air time to have strategy meetings, make calls to the crew chiefs who were already at the track, or go through his schedule, making adjustments where necessary. By the volume and frequency of his staff’s laughter in the plane, he figured they would be plotting to get Sheila to come with them every weekend.

They touched down, piled in the rental cars, drove to the track, picked up Sheila’s weekend credentials and arrived in the garage area ten minutes before qualifying was due to start.

Other than calling the diner to check on Mellie, Sheila seemed entirely focused on him and his teams. She asked a million questions, gawked in amazement at everything and nearly got run over twice by crew members pushing race cars toward the qualifying line on pit road, leading him to ask her how many races she’d been to.

“Including the three I’ll see this weekend?” she asked, craning her neck around to look at the stands surrounding the massive track. “Four.”

He ground to a halt. “You’ve been to one race.”

“I have a business to run. I can’t go flitting off to the track whenever I want.” When he continued to stare at her in disbelief, she added, “I’m not green, you know. I watch on TV every week. Can I see the pit wall?”

“Sure.”

“Can I touch it?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course.”

“Cool. I always see the team jump over the wall, and I’ve always wanted to see it firsthand.”

“You’ve never been on pit road?”

“No. I went to the spring race at the Concord track last year, but by the time I got there, the race had already started. I watched from the Grossos’ suite in Turn Two.”

The racetrack was as common to him as the grass in his own backyard. Given her place in the racing community, it seemed inconceivable that Sheila hadn’t shared that experience at least once. She was good friends with several drivers’ wives, including Patsy Grosso, whose family was legendary in NASCAR circles.

“Any one of a hundred of your customers could’ve gotten you infield passes anytime you wanted,” he said, still having a hard time grasping the idea that Sheila was a garage-area novice. “Including me.”

“Oh, I know. The Tarts are always trying to get me to go with them.” She angled her head. “Did I mention I have a business to run? Hey, there’s Rafael.” She waved at the driver, who was walking with his team, trying to sign an autograph as he moved.

Though Sheila was always rushing through the diner, she was always controlled and focused. Her whiplash-inducing reactions were a revelation, a childlike side of her he’d never dreamed she possessed.

Noticing them, Rafael walked over. “Hey, boss, Sheila.” His blue-eyed gaze swept Sheila. “You look different.”

Gil laid his hand on her shoulder. “That’s a compliment.”

Rafael cocked his head. “Definitely.”

Like the other night at dinner, her wavy hair was loose of its usual ponytail. Though she wore plain, slightly worn jeans and a Double S Racing polo she’d requested he bring her, she looked as beautiful as any other woman would in high-class designer clothes.

“Are you flirting with my date?” Gil asked him, his tone casual even if his intent wasn’t.

“Not at all.” He exchanged a knowing look with Gil.

“I’m just a little surprised to see her here.”

“I’m pretty successful when I’m focused—just like you.”

“Can I see your helmet, Rafael?” Sheila asked, seemingly unconcerned that they were discussing her as if she wasn’t standing right next to them—a fact that any other time would have at least elicited a sarcastic comment.

Her fascination with his world only made him fall for her even harder.

“Sure.”

The moment the driver handed over the helmet, Sheila started asking questions. She kept a running dialogue going all the way to pit road, where Rafael broke off to wait by his car with his team.

Gil spoke briefly to the CEO of Hometeam Insurance, driver Ben Edmonds’s primary sponsor, and when he turned to Sheila to introduce her, he realized she’d moved a few steps away to run her fingertips over the pit wall. The gleeful look on her face made everything inside him go soft.

He grasped her hand in his and led her toward Rafael’s stall, where he assured her she could not only touch the wall, but sit on it and watch qualifying. She grinned as the first car roared onto the track, and he was certain her smile never dimmed the entire time.

Rafael’s team took good care of her, bringing her drinks and snacks and patiently answering her many questions, and Gil was happy to be part of the group who catered to her, especially since she was usually the one making sure all of them were happy and well fed.

When he offered dinner after qualifying, she shook her head. She wanted to watch the truck race.

Maybe an addiction to racing would keep her by his side.

He encouraged her to watch the race from on top of one of the haulers. So, binoculars in hand, she kept her attention focused on every lap. She even called Mellie from her cell phone and held it up, so she could hear the roar of the engines as everyone in the field fought like tigers for victory.

By the time they left the track, it was nearly eleven o’clock, so Gil’s plan of a romantic steak dinner was scrapped. They wound up driving through a fast-food place, then eating burgers, fries and salads as they sat on the sofa in her hotel suite.

With a satisfied sigh, Sheila dragged a fry through ketchup. “Just like home.”

“Your burgers are better, and I promised steak.”

“Sorry. I got carried away at the track. Tomorrow night, maybe?”

He slid his thumb across her cheek. “Whatever you want.”

“You’re awfully agreeable these days. After all the arguments we’ve had, I never would have guessed we’d actually get along.”

“Hey, you started most of those arguments. Probably to make sure I kept my distance.”

Shrugging, she polished off another fry, then leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Probably.” She looked around the spacious suite, her gaze lingering for a moment on the vase of yellow roses sitting on the desk. “You gave me your room, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He’d hoped his switch wouldn’t be noticed. She always seemed suspicious of generosity. “I thought you’d like the space.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Across the hall. Room 1214.”

“Most of the owners have a motor home at the track, right? Why don’t you?”

“I do. But I don’t usually bring it when we come out west.”

Her gaze flitted around the room again. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble for me.”

“I like to.”

Sitting cross-legged with her feet bare and her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, she looked more like a teenager than a grown woman with a mysterious past and a demanding business to run. She cleared her throat.

“What now?”

“We could make out.”

After a startled jolt, she surprised him by scooting closer and looping her arms around his neck. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

He pulled her into his lap. “Making me really, really happy.”

“That’s quite a step up from making you miserable.”

“It’s been quite a day.”

He took his time at the races for granted. Even though he was in his first year as a team owner, his sponsorship days had afforded him days at every track on the circuit at one time or another. Conducting business with the roar of engines in the background was as normal as doing it in a boardroom.

Today, though, everything was fresh again. He’d seen all the action, frenzy, lights, colors and crowds through new eyes.

Sheila’s eyes.

Her golden-brown gaze searched his. “I don’t belong with—”

He laid his finger over her lips. “Don’t. Please.” Desire invaded him as surely as her smiles had touched his heart, so he brushed his mouth over her cheek. “This weekend is a bubble in time. Until Sunday night let’s forget the past and even the future. Okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered, her breath teasing his skin.

As he kissed her, he promised himself to go slow. He didn’t bring her here for a weekend fling. She was an investment. A woman who mattered a great deal to him. He wasn’t going to blow his chances at a real relationship by losing control.

Like last time.

That kiss in her apartment on Tuesday had been an inferno of long-suppressed need. Tonight he’d find gentleness. He wouldn’t hurry or push.

Even if it killed him.

Even if the tips of his fingers tingled with every breath she took, every beat of her heart.

As things heated and hands began to roam, they both jerked back at the same time. Breathless, eyes wide, they stared at each other.

“I should probably go,” he said, forcing himself to stand.

Seeming stunned, she nevertheless nodded. “I guess so.”

He escaped before he could follow through on an impulse that would never gain him the bond of trust he wanted so desperately between them.

CHAPTER SIX

THROUGH THE NASCAR NATIONWIDE Series race on Saturday, Sheila mingled with CEOs, drivers, engineers and tire changers. She knew from her friend and celebrity chef Grace Clark that many of the major teams had a full-time cook, who kept the energy going and the home fires burning regardless of where their cars started or finished.

And she was astounded by the number of people to be fed—officials, teams, sponsors and fans. She ignored Gil when he tried to insist she sit and relax, let people wait on her for a change.

She was in her element, as she’d never expected to be in Gil’s world.

The racing itself was exhilarating, but she was even more impressed by the sense of community, the way everybody knew everybody. Team members joked with competitors under the food tents one minute and fiercely tried to defeat them on the track the next.

She couldn’t remember a time she’d had more fun.

Her life had been full of struggle and, oftentimes, betrayal and despair. She’d dragged herself to respectability through sheer force of will, and often wondered if a day would come when all she’d built would crumble before her.

Today, that fear was a distant memory.

The moment the cars dashed across the finish line—which she watched from the top of Rafael’s hauler—Gil slid his arm around her waist. “Come on,” he invited, his eyes glowing and seemingly unaware of the excitement around him.

“Where?” she asked, though she let him lead her down the ladder to the ground, where teams were rushing around to pack up their equipment for the night.

His warm, capable hand squeezed hers. “Steak. Dinner. You. Me.”

“You’re getting as bad as Rafael.”

“Sorry. I’m a little single-minded at the moment.”

And before she knew it, she was swept from the track and into a limo, then they were seated in a booth at an elegant downtown Dallas steak house.

“They have an excellent variety of whiskey here,” Gil said, sliding a menu across the table toward her.

“Yeah?” She glanced at the selections, her eyes nearly bugging out at the prices. But vowing not to say anything to spoil the “bubble,” she smiled at him. “I’m not picky. You choose.”

He did, and the drink he chose was both smooth and warm, much finer than anything she’d ever had. She also gave up control of ordering dinner—just as she had earlier in the week.

In her whole life, she’d never relied on anybody, but Gil was the kind of man who made surrender easy. And while she recognized it could never last, she didn’t much care as he smiled at her like no other woman existed in the world.

“Who betrayed you?”

The smoky whiskey dried like ash in her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

He picked up her hand where it rested on the table and linked their fingers. “Somebody made you distrust everybody, men in particular. Who was it?”

The closeness she’d felt flicked off. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Your father?” he pressed. “You said he’s never been part of your life, so he can’t be the one.”

“I don’t have a father.” She glanced around the quiet, elegantly lit restaurant, then leaned toward him, fire in her eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Regret moved through his eyes. “I’m pushing too hard, too fast.”

“Yes.”

“I swore I wouldn’t, but I—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I want you too much.”

That certainly had her pulse jumping into overdrive. She scooted closer to him in the booth. It was incredibly hard for her to extend intimacy, but she did, sliding the hand he wasn’t holding up his chest, where his heart beat, true and strong.

“The last two days have been amazing.” The best of my life. As such, she needed to offer him some version of the truth. He’d given so much, and she’d lied just by existing. “It’s like a dream, my responsibilities gone while I hang out at the track, watching everybody who’s come through my diner do what they love.”

“But…”

She met his gaze, praying he’d understand. “You were the one who proposed the truce.”

“Forget the past, not think about the future.”

“Exactly.” She fisted her hand to keep it from shaking, then unclenched and glided her fingertips across his jawline. “We don’t have very long.”

The tension dissipated as he lifted both his lips and his brows. “We turn into pumpkins tomorrow night?”

“I do.”

Through dinner, he played the indulgent host, and she let him.

He wouldn’t be put off for long. If he truly cared about her, and somehow she was convinced he did, then he’d need to know everything. She no longer feared the possibility of him leaving for the next hot chick to cross his path, she knew he would when her mistakes were revealed.

Still, she ignored her conscience and its warnings. Her past was just that…over.

When they reached her suite, she didn’t invite him in for coffee, she just kept hold of his hand and led him inside.

“This room has a cool feature,” she said, crossing to the desk. “I can plug in my music player and listen to all my songs, just like home.”

She launched a romantic playlist she’d enjoyed a great deal since Gil had come into her life. Way before she’d accepted his dinner invitation and more frequently this week, when she’d reflected on the turn their relationship had taken.

As the piano notes echoed through the suite, she turned back and approached him. Strong, elegant and tempting in his white dress shirt and navy pants, she admired both the breadth of his chest and the focused look in his eyes.

The look that seemed only for her.

“Dance with me?” she asked, curling her arms around his neck.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, pulling her tight against him.

The warmth from his body infused her instantly, and she tucked her head between his neck and shoulder, breathing in his spicy cologne and the scent that was Gil alone.

Naturally, it wasn’t long before his mouth glided across her cheek, then found her lips. She leaned into him, gripping his arms and returning every stroke and caress.

It’s just a crush, she repeated to herself over and over.

And over again.

It wasn’t as if his kiss sent off sparks she’d never experienced before. It wasn’t as if she was on the verge of fainting from the sensation of his touch. It wasn’t as if he meant anything to her.

But her abstinence from romantic relationships—which she’d embraced wholeheartedly after all she’d been through—suddenly became a problem. Sensations she’d ignored tingled to life, burning with an intensity that had no intention of being extinguished.

No, they didn’t have long. Her weekend of pure fantasy would soon be over. She’d have to ruin everything with the truth.

But they had tonight.

THE ALARM WOKE GIL ABRUPTLY.

Groaning, he reached across Sheila and turned it off.

Without opening her eyes, she scooted toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It can’t be morning already.”

“I know what you mean.”

Actually, he was still trying to assimilate what had happened the night before. She didn’t want to share her past or who had hurt her. But she was fine giving physically. She thought he was moving too fast; she was on pace to set records.

He was pretty sure he should be worried that she wanted him, but didn’t want to get too close. But with her warmth and satiny skin enveloping him, he wasn’t about to question his windfall.

He kissed her forehead, temple, cheek, then captured her mouth. “It may be an early morning,” he said when they parted. “But it’s a good one.”

She traced his lips with her fingers. “Yes, it is.”

With extreme reluctance, he gave her one last peck, then slid from the bed. “I’m going to my room to take a shower. You’ve got twenty minutes. Is that enough—” He stopped as he glanced over at her and found her staring at him.

“Are you sure you have to wear a shirt at the track?”

He felt an embarrassing flush crawl its way up his neck. “U-uh, well…yeah.”

An inviting smile bloomed on her face. “Too bad.”

He was a grown man, not an inexperienced teenager. Yet she was constantly throwing him off balance. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to toss aside business and responsibility and spend the day just watching her smile.

“Twenty minutes?” she asked, bringing him back to reality.

“Yeah.” He crossed to the bed and leaned over her. He spent two minutes of their twenty kissing her and still not seeing how that could possibly sustain him all day long.

“Go,” she whispered, pushing him away even though the look in her eyes clearly said stay. “The boss can’t be late.”

Somehow, he made his feet move through the room and out the door. A cold shower shocked away the craziest of his plans, which involved grabbing her and running away to Bermuda for the next month.

When he knocked on her door fifteen minutes later, she answered while she was brushing her hair. “I’ve still got three minutes.”

“I missed you.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, pulling an elastic band off her wrist, obviously intending to pull her hair back in her usual ponytail.

He snagged the band. “Leave it down.”

“It’s a mess,” she protested. “Twenty minutes doesn’t give me time to wash it.”

He threaded his fingers through the fiery locks. “It’s beautiful.”

Her eyes softened at the compliment. The reaction made him realize people didn’t compliment her often. Her food, her efficiency, her diner, but not her.

More than anything he wanted to reach back into her past and pummel whatever idiot had damaged her spirit.

“Please?” he asked. “You can turn into Sheila the Diner Queen tomorrow.”

“Okay, fine.” She looped the elastic band back around her wrist. “Next time you eat hairless mashed potatoes, you should say a silent prayer of thanks for the invention of the ponytail.”

“You bet.”

“I need mascara and lip gloss, and I’ll be ready.” She rushed into the bedroom, returning a couple of minutes later. “All set,” she said, grabbing her purse off the coffee table.

He let his gaze rove her from head to toe. Again, a Double S polo and jeans had never looked so remarkable. “How am I going to keep my hands off you all day?”

She glided her hand down the center of his chest. “You should have brought the motor home—convenience and privacy.”

“Good point.” He grinned as an idea occurred to him. “But that’s not the only place we can be alone.”

“You want to make out between the haulers?”

“No, inside one of them.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll show you.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“GIL, ARE YOU SURE that door’s locked?”

He gave her a “Mmm” that Sheila took to be a yes and continued trailing his lips along her neck.

The race had reached the halfway point, and though all four of the Double S cars were still in the hunt, Bart Branch was the class of the field.

Surprisingly, Gil didn’t seem too upset.

He’d been attentive and caring all morning, patiently answering her many questions. Every time he had to leave her side, he made sure somebody else was watching out for her.

She’d spent the race on top of the war wagon behind Rafael’s pit box. His crew chief, Denton Moss, sat in a swivel chair right next to her, so she got to witness every intimate detail of the team’s fight to win. Gil even provided a set of headphones so she could hear Denton and Rafael’s radio communications.

The perspective was completely different from the one she’d had in the grandstands, but just as exhilarating.

Eventually, though, the heated glances between her and Gil had gotten to be too much, and he’d led her into Rafael’s hauler, down the narrow hallway of equipment lockers and past team members, straight to the back, where there was a small office containing a computer station, a love seat and a couple of folding chairs.

Gil’s mouth found hers, and she breathed in his familiar taste and scent. She couldn’t count on his attention and touch for long, but she wasn’t about to squander a single moment.

When she ran out of breath, and her head was ready to spin off her shoulders, she broke away, leaning her forehead against his. “Are you prepared for Bart to win?”

“Three and a half races and you’re the expert now, are you?” He kissed her cheek. “Race isn’t over till the checkered flag waves.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You do want one of my guys to win, don’t you?”

“Of course, but I don’t see anybody catching the No. 475 car.”

“You don’t, huh?” Levering them off the sofa, he swung her into his arms, then set her on the floor. “How about a little wager?”

She didn’t have much cash to bet with, but noticing the speculative look in Gil’s eyes, she had the feeling money wouldn’t be required. “What’re the stakes?”

“One of my cars wins and you have dinner with me every night this week.”

“Hang on. I have to run the diner. I can’t go skipping off every night at dinnertime.”

“You don’t skip, and I’m willing to eat at the diner. I’m just asking you to take an hour’s break to have it with me.”

Staring at Gil across the table wasn’t exactly like losing. “I can do that. Now, what do I get if Bart wins?”

“You get mine and Marley’s expertise in finding somebody you can hire to help manage the diner.”

Sheila’s mood went from teasing to ticked in the space of a heartbeat. “I manage the diner just fine.”

“And work yourself to death. You at least need to have somebody you trust to lock up at night. You can’t keep up this pace.”

“I have Mellie.”

“Who has a young child to raise. She can’t take on this kind of responsibility right now.”

She acknowledged the undeniable truth of that, but her temper still hummed. If Gil thought he was going to breeze into her life and take over everything, he was greatly mistaken. “When did you cook up this idea?”

“It’s not mine. It’s Marley’s.” When she looked skeptical, he said, “Ask her.”

Marley and the other Tarts had been trying to convince her for months to hire an assistant manager or promote one of the waitresses.

Financially, she could afford to do so, but she wasn’t as willing to part with the control as much as the money. Besides, working herself to exhaustion kept her from thinking too much about Gil.

“Fine. If Bart wins, I get your expertise.”

“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. Maybe you’re worried I’m trying to control you and your business?”

Surprised, her gaze jumped to his.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You probably don’t believe this, but I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the last week. I’m not trying to mess with your independence. I’m just concerned about you.” He kissed her forehead. “I want you to be happy.”

She laid her cheek against his chest. This made her happy. Just being with him, feeling his arms around her.

Unfortunately, though, he was wrong.

He didn’t know her at all.

ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT, Sheila called Mellie and assured her she was on her way home. She’d promised her waitress Monday night off, and she was glad Mellie and Bart had something to celebrate.

When her love life wasn’t such a muddle, maybe she could probe Mellie for more details about exactly what was going on between those two.

“When do you want to start interviewing?” Gil asked her.

Sheila glanced at him, his large hands gripping the steering wheel. It bugged him that her prediction about Bart winning had come true, but the Double S teams finished fifth, seventh, tenth and eighteenth, so it was a good day even without the win Rafael needed so much to push him past Bart in the championship standings.

“I’d like to talk to my waitresses before I go to outside people,” she said.

“Why don’t you let Marley find a few candidates? They’ll give you a comparison to the ones you already have in-house.”

“Okay.” She turned her head to watch the Texas landscape fly by. Was she surrendering too much of herself or was she nuts to not take the advice of a man as successful as Gil?

He laid his hand on her thigh. “Are you okay?”

Sighing, she linked their fingers and dug deep for a smile. “I’m great.”

But, really, she wasn’t.

Their weekend was ending, as it had to. Back to real life where Gil was megarich NASCAR team owner, and she was plain ole Sheila, serving meat loaf and mashed potatoes all day and night.

Guilt was also eating a hole through her happy fantasy.

How long could she really expect to keep lying to him? How long before he demanded answers about the bad stuff in her past? He was an astute man, who knew another man had betrayed her. How could she reveal the extent of that betrayal, and the consequences she’d paid as a result?

Raised in his perfect, privileged world, he’d never understand how she could have gone to such a dark place in her life.

“I need to go to the diner when we get back,” she said once they were airborne and the worst of her flying nerves had settled.

“I’ll take you.”

She shook her head. “I need my car. I’m staying till closing. Mellie needs a break.”

“Then I’ll come back to get you at midnight. I don’t like you driving by yourself so late.”

No way was she surrendering everything for him. He wasn’t going to be around long enough to rely on, even if she was tempted to yield control of her life. Which she wasn’t. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Gil. I don’t need your protection.”

“Don’t need or don’t want?” he asked, seeming undaunted by her angry tone.

“Both.”

“But I like taking care of you.”

“I’ve made a mistake in letting you. That’s not me.”

“It could be, if you trusted me more.”

She looked away from the longing in his eyes. How could she trust him when she couldn’t offer him the same courtesy?

“How about a compromise?” he asked. “I’ll take you to your apartment so you can get your car, but I’ll still come back to the diner later and follow you home.”

How much longer would she have him? How much longer would he care? Time ticked relentlessly away on their bond, and she couldn’t have denied the opportunity to be with him any more than she could having willingly stopped breathing.

“That would be nice,” she said finally, watching brightness fade from the sky and hoping that wasn’t an omen.

He gripped her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Hey, I’m not losing you, am I?”

“No.” She turned back to him. “I’m just fading a little. We didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“And any time you want to not get sleep again, you just let me know.”

She smiled. “Guaranteed. But I’m going to need coffee.”

Naturally, he got her a cup of coffee.

By the time he dropped her off at her apartment with a lingering kiss and promise to see her later, it was after 9:00 p.m.

She was welcomed back at the diner as if she’d been gone three months instead of three days, which she supposed was fair. She’d never left her business for so long.

Mellie was sure she had a tan, no matter how often Sheila told her she’d diligently worn sunscreen every day. Privately, she didn’t want to acknowledge the glow Mellie noticed.

The glow was Gil.

Somehow, saying aloud how much things had changed between them seemed like a jinx. But as she fell into the rhythm of serving customers, the surreal quality of the trip fell away, regardless of how much she wanted to hold on to the dream.

The diner was where she belonged. Not in private jets, luxury hotel suites or a plush bed with an attentive lover.

Yet when that lover showed up at midnight, following her home to make sure she was tucked in safely, she invited him to do the tucking personally.

Maybe surrender wasn’t such a lousy idea after all.

GIL MIGHT HAVE LOST THE BET over the Texas race, but he won anyway.

He and Sheila were planning to have dinner together every night. He even snuck in Chinese takeout on Monday, which they ate in the back room and gloatingly assured everybody who popped in to investigate the unusual smells that they were imagining the scent of soy sauce and ginger.

While he also convinced her to interview some of the people Marley recommended she hire, in the end, she promoted Louise to part-time assistant manager. She was still watching Lily until Mellie could make new arrangements.

“Thank you,” Sheila said suddenly to him as they shared pie and coffee in the back room on Thursday night. “Promoting Louise has been the best decision I’ve made in a long time.”

“She’s only been on the job a day.”

“But she’s so happy. I swear the woman is floating through her shifts.”

“Give her a week running your insane schedule, and she’ll be begging for mercy.”

“There’s nothing insane about working hard. You do it.”

“Yeah, but I’m stronger.”

“Because you’re a man?” she asked after a significant pause.

Oops. He’d gone down the wrong road. This was a common problem with Sheila. She was a challenging woman, and any attempt to help her—she would say wrestle control from her—was usually met with a fierce stare from those beautiful brown eyes.

“No, not really,” he said, scrambling to cover his blunder. “Gender doesn’t really have a place in working hard, does it?”

“I don’t think so. But if you want to make comparisons, you could equate stronger to bigger.”

“Yeah, that’s—” He stopped, patting his stomach, which he kept trim through disciplined diet and rigorous exercise. The months wooing Sheila had packed on a couple of pounds. “And getting bigger every day thanks to this pie you keep pushing on me.”

“Any time you want a grilled chicken salad, you just ask.”

“How did we go from discussing your diner to my waistline?”

“You did that all by yourself.”

He supposed he had. “My point about Louise was that she’s nearly fifty and—”

“You’re over forty.”

He leaned toward her, flicking his finger over the impish dimple in her chin. “You have a problem with my stamina?”

Grinning, she pulled his pie plate in front of her. “No, but I don’t have a problem with my waistline.”

“Louise is nearly fifty, while you are younger and have a supportive boyfriend to pick you up off the floor at the end of the night.”

Her eyes widened. “Boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Realizing he’d dropped that in and hoping Sheila wouldn’t give him a hard time about it, he rose and crossed to the cooler he’d brought with him. “One who brings you champagne and chocolate, by the way.”

Reflecting on the rewards of spoiling Sheila, he set a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries on the table. He wondered if there would ever come a time when she’d stop being surprised by indulgent gestures.

Maybe not. But if she did, he’d certainly miss the pleasure of her shock, the slowly dawning knowledge that somebody cared about her.

He popped the champagne cork—quietly so the entire diner wouldn’t come running for a taste—then poured out two servings into crystal flutes he’d also brought. “See the rewards of dating me?”

She took the glass, then tossed back the entire contents.

He poured more and sincerely hoped Louise was ready to jump in with assistant-manager duties, since her boss was likely to be too dizzy to go back to work anytime soon.

“Problem?” he asked, even though he was well aware of the problem.

Her brown eyes found his and locked in. “Boyfriend?”

“Not a fan of the word? How about significant other? Exclusive date guy? Lover?”

Her gaze roved him, leaving heat in its wake. “You’re not much of a boy.”

“Glad you noticed.” He tapped his glass against hers.

“I’m leaving tomorrow for Phoenix, and I wanted to make some things clear before I go.”

“Clear would be good,” she said, still looking stunned.

Focusing intently on her flushed face, he pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’m completely, utterly crazy about you.”

“But you—”

He stopped her with a kiss.

She leaned in to him, and the sense of rightness invaded him as it did each and every time he saw or touched her.

There was so much between them. If only he could get her to realize it.

When they separated, he took a second to stroke her cheek with his thumb, but he knew he had to get it all out before she started asking questions or he got distracted by the heat pumping through his veins.

He took a deep breath and rushed ahead. “I want us to be together every moment we can, and while I’m gone I don’t want you, well, getting lonely and deciding some engineer from PDQ Racing is pretty cute, and he wants to invite you to dinner or a movie or—” He stopped, not wanting to think about any other or situation.

“You’re asking me to go steady?”

The old-fashioned term had hope and relief washing over him. Leave it to Sheila to cut to the heart of things.

“Definitely.”

Her gaze searched his. “You’re really great, and I love being with you, but I’m not sure we—”

“Gil, my darling, what are you up to?”

At the sound of the Southern feminine drawl, Gil turned slowly toward the doorway. There stood a familiar, dark-haired figure wearing a deep green suit with white fur trim around the collar.

Fake, no doubt. She was a staunch animal-rights supporter.

“Mama, what are you doing here?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

VICTORIA CHANCELLOR SIZEMORE was a force of nature.

Trim, fit and beautiful at sixtysomething—though that was a guess, given Gil’s age. She looked a decade or two below that.

Though she’d been nothing less than gracious during the introductions, she refused her son’s offer for a seat at the table and instead chose to wander around the room. Sheila didn’t see how this confident woman could be nervous, so she decided Victoria was stalling.

“How did you know where I was?” Gil asked her.

“Marley told me you’d been spending a lot of time here. And when I arrived, a helpful man named Al told me I could find you in the storage room.” She raised her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Odd place for a date, isn’t it?”

Sheila had no idea if this question was aimed at her or Gil, but she had no intention of answering regardless. For reasons she couldn’t explain, her heart was pounding. She felt like a bird trapped in a cage.

With a sleek, dark cat on the loose nearby.

Gil’s cautious gaze tracked his mother around the room. He, too, seemed to feel the tension and had decided this unexpected appearance wasn’t a positive sign. “Not really.”

“How nice. Sheila, I understand you’re from Florida.”

She did? How?

“How did you know that?” Gil asked before Sheila could.

Victoria looked startled for a second. “Marley must have told me. You are, though, right?” she added, looking at Sheila.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Lakeland?”

Something hard curled in Sheila’s stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Born Sheila Elaine Trueblood, December 2, 1981?”

Gil rose slowly from his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know you’re always welcome to visit me, Mama, but I don’t see any reason you need to interrogate my girlfriend. What’s this about?”

Victoria’s head snapped back as if she’d been struck. “Girlfriend?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, glaring at her.

“If you’d listen to me every once in a while, I wouldn’t have to be. But a mother has to do everything in her power to protect her son.” She reached into the glossy handbag dangling from her shoulder and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Your girl—” She stopped, clearing her throat. “Your lady friend has a record.”

Watching the paper pass from mother to son, Sheila’s heart stopped.

All the times she’d thought about telling Gil her secrets flashed in front of her like a movie on fast-forward. All the intimate moments, the laughter, the teasing and flirting froze into a single frame, then began to burn, smoke curling around the edges until nothing was left but ashes.

“A record of what?” Gil asked, flipping open the paper.

Sheila jolted to her feet and wrapped her hand around his wrist. “Gil, please.”

“You’ve got a cute little place here, sweetie,” Victoria said, condescension dripping with every word. “But Gil could set you up in a five-star resort.” Her lips pulled back in a sneer. “Or you wouldn’t even have to work at all. I’m sure a generous man like my son would be happy to buy you anything you wanted, take you wherever you wanted to go.”

“Like your husband did for you?” Sheila snapped, and felt some satisfaction when the other woman’s eyes widened with both annoyance and acknowledgment.

Sheila knew she was in the wrong with Gil, and he had a right to be angry with her, but this woman wasn’t going to make her feel inferior. No matter what she meant to the man she loved.

Man she loved.

Oh, no. No, no, no. She couldn’t have been that rash, that stupid.

Yet the truth was there, as real as the evidence of her betrayal rested in his hand. She’d fallen completely, hopelessly in love with Gil.

Her gaze flew to his, but it was too late. He’d already read the paper—surely a record of her arrest and conviction for fraud.

As shock and hurt rushed into his startling blue eyes, she could hear the judge’s gavel echo through the room as if her sentence had just been handed down that moment instead of five years ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have told you.” She tried to link his hand with hers, but he jerked away and stepped back. “Gil, please. I was going to tell you. I just…” She shook her head, knowing he’d never believe her, never trust her again. “I didn’t know how.”

“How?” he asked, his voice strained with the pain of betrayal. “Why?”

“Does it matter?”

“It says the state prosecuted on behalf of the Golden Age Retirement Association. You defrauded elderly people?”

It hadn’t been her idea, and she hadn’t known what was going on until it was too late to escape. Until she’d been too scared and too demoralized to get away from the man who’d led her down that horrible, lawless road, but at the end of it all, she’d been responsible for her own actions.

“Yes,” she admitted in resignation.

Gil looked at her as if he’d never seen her before. And maybe he hadn’t. Not really. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, forcing herself to take a step toward him. “That part of my life is over, and I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t bear the idea of you looking at me the way you are now.”

When he backed away, she stopped moving. “I can’t—”

In a flash, his mother was by his side. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here.”

Everything inside Sheila clenched in bitter regret. Time stopped as Gil whirled away and left the room, his mother at his heels.

Sheila turned toward the table, bracing her hands on its surface. The mockery of the champagne, chocolate and strawberries was too much to bear.

With a sweep of her hand, she knocked everything to the floor, where it shattered like her heart.

THE REST OF THE WEEK passed in a blur.

Sheila worked, pretended to smile at customers, went home and pretended to sleep, then came back the next day and started over.

She felt like a person whose insides had been carved out and only a hollow shell remained. She refused to talk to her friends about the breakup with Gil. She brushed aside Rue’s words of concern and understanding.

To make matters worse, Mellie’s apartment had been broken into. Though she hadn’t been hurt, she was jumpier than ever. Whatever secrets haunted her, she wasn’t sharing—a theme Sheila understood all too well.

Sheila could only hope both of them would find a way to trust each other eventually. At least Mellie had Bart to watch over her.

And thoughts like those sharpened her pain until even breathing was difficult.

When she nearly burst into tears during Sunday’s race at Phoenix, she told everybody she was sick and went home. She stayed home on Monday, ignoring her ringing phone, but knew she had to pull herself together and go back on Tuesday.

If any of the Tarts found out about her “illness,” they’d marshal the troops in an instant, and she’d have half a dozen women fawning over her, claiming everything would work out or, worse, volunteering to talk to Gil.

She’d be forced to tell them the secret of her past, then they’d hate her, too.

No, she’d have to get hold of herself and find a way to keep moving forward. As she always did. What other choice did she have?

During her first few days in prison, she was sure she’d never survive her two-year sentence. But she had. She’d gotten counseling, learned the peace and power of martial arts and been released after thirteen months.

Starting over, she’d learned that hard, honest work paid off, and now she was a successful businesswoman.

She could do it again.

She’d been halfway in love with Gil from afar for months, and it wasn’t as though he’d ever come back in the diner. Eventually, the hurt would fade. Someday she’d look back on her ten days with him and be grateful she’d been blessed to spend any time with him at all.

Convincing herself of all these eventualities was going reasonably well until she cut a piece of peach pie, remembered her and Gil’s discussion about it versus apple, and she had to retreat into the back room to gather her defenses again.

“What did you do to Gil?”

Startled, Sheila turned to see Rafael O’Bryan in the doorway. “I—” She blinked back tears.

Not now. Hang on.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, inching around him. “I have to get back to work.”

“Hell. What did he do to you?”

Sheila didn’t need a mirror to see her pale face and bloodshot eyes. “Nothing. Please, Rafael. Drop it. It’s over.” She managed a harsh laugh. “As anybody would have expected.”

Rafael scowled. “He was happy with you. Now he’s miserable. I’m trying to win a championship here.”

The single-minded attitude made her smile genuinely for the first time in days. “I know, and I’m sorry. Gil wants to win as much as you do. He won’t let this get in his way.”

“Maybe so.” He glanced at her again. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

“Me, too. How about some pie?”

Rafael preferred the peach, just as Gil had, and Sheila managed to serve it without a single tear. She even talked past the lump in her throat.

She was going to be just fine. She’d been through tougher times than this.

Of course that little delusion was shattered when Rue, Emma-Lee, Susie, Patsy, Grace, Sophia and Mia all burst through the door of the diner at eight o’clock.

“What are you guys doing here?” Sheila asked, goggling at the lot of them.

“It’s Tuesday,” Rue said matter-of-factly.

“I know, but…” She glanced at the huge group. “All of you?”

Patsy snagged her arm and led her toward the break room. “Cara would have come, but she got called to the hospital.”

“But…”

Her weak protest was ignored. She was pushed into a chair at the table.

“Okay, let’s have details,” Rue said, her eyes flashing with determination. “There’s no getting away from us. Louise told us about your mystery illness, and Emma-Lee has had to put up with Gil the Impossible for nearly five days.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sheila said, then pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

“It’s over.”

“Not until we say it is,” Rue insisted.

Until they— “You’re crazy,” Sheila said, shaking her head. But she was also the most loyal of friends. When she’d first arrived in town, Rue had been the one to welcome her, to fill her in on everything and everyone. She’d touted the glories of the diner to all her customers. She’d organized the Tarts and boosted them all through every trial and triumph any of them had experienced.

Sheila shrugged. “Fine. It’s not pretty, though.”

Rue laid her hand on her shoulder. “It never is.”

“I brought wine,” Patsy said, holding up a bottle of Chardonnay. Gracefully, she poured out glasses for those who wanted it.

Mia held up another bottle. “But I brought whiskey.”

She poured a couple of fingers into a heavy crystal glass, adding ice and a splash of water. With clear expectation, she set the drink before Sheila.

Seemingly as one, the group leaned in to hear the story. Anticipation charged the air. Even the clanging silverware and usual customer noise faded in the background.

Sheila sipped her drink to wet her throat, but the taste only reminded her of Gil. By lying she’d lost him forever and tainted all the wonderful moments they’d shared. She couldn’t let the same thing happen between her and the Tarts.

She looked up, where her closest friends sat before her. “I’m an ex-con.”

With a gasp, Patsy reached for the whiskey.

CHAPTER NINE

“WHAT THE DEVIL’S WRONG with you, Gil Sizemore?”

Sitting behind his desk with a mountain of paperwork scattered in front of him, Gil glared at his sister. “Go away. I have work to do.”

She planted her hands on his desk and leaned over, glaring right back. “Think we could bottle that charm and sell it?”

“I don’t see how.”

“Me, either.” Looking satisfied, she straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got to do something about Sheila.”

Over the weekend, after the first dozen people had asked him about Sheila and he’d bitten their heads off, nobody had dared speak her name in his presence. Hearing it now only made the ache in his heart surge with renewed strength. “No, I don’t. And you were a lot easier to boss around before you started fooling around with one of my drivers.”

“Yet another reason to be grateful for Linc. Does this fraud conviction make you love Sheila less?”

Love. What a joke. How could he love a woman he’d never known? He’d loved a mirage. “How do you know about that?”

“After lecturing me for an hour about how I shouldn’t be marrying Linc, Mother told me. She seemed pretty gleeful about telling actually.” She examined her fingernails, clearly pretending unconcern. “Any idea why?”

“No.”

“She wants you to marry Lexie Anderson.”

That out-of-the-blue assertion got his full attention. “What?”

“Lexie Anderson.” Marley made a curvy gesture with her hands. “Blonde, soft-spoken, lived down the street from us for eighteen years.”

“I know who she is. But why would Mama think I’d be interested in her, much less want to marry her?”

“I’m not sure your needs are high on her list. I think it’s more about merging our families.”

Gil shook his head. He knew he’d alternated between living in a fog and riding hard on his anger over the past few days, but he was pretty sure he hadn’t traveled back in time. “It’s still the twenty-first century, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

He turned his attention to the neglected paperwork on his desk. “Then who I marry is entirely up to me.”

He’d never get through it all. It took him twice as long to get through any task, since he had to pause every few minutes and deliberately shove aside memories of the days he’d shared with Sheila. Then he had to stop longing for the future he’d seen them sharing.

“You might want to tell her that,” Marley said.

Sighing, Gil leaned back in his chair. “Sheila?”

“Mama.”

He jumped to his feet. “I’m not marrying anybody, okay? The woman I lo—” He caught hold of his runaway emotions and forced the pain to the pit of his stomach. “The woman I was spending time with lied to me, deceived me in the most personal way.”

“Maybe she was embarrassed,” Marley returned, her eyes blazing. “You didn’t want me telling her stories about your childhood. Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable sharing this with you.”

“I knew she was holding something back.”

“Of course she was! You dated her a whole week, so she’s supposed to share every detail of her life with you? This may come as a complete shock to you, brother dear, but not everybody lives their life at 180-miles-per-hour.”

His own temper was approaching boil. “She was supposed to trust me.”

“Why?”

“Because I…”

“Because you wanted her to?”

“Because I cared about her!”

“Did you?” Marley countered, her voice quiet after his shout. “Don’t you still? You honestly think Sheila is a liar and a cheat?”

Gil hunched his shoulders. He was starting to feel like a real jerk. “She admitted she was.”

“Was. Maybe. Everybody makes mistakes. I set Linc’s car on fire! And I’ll bet this race shop that there’s more to the story than she’s told you. Something happened to her, something bad. Sheila doesn’t have a hurtful bone in her body. She’s tough on herself, but she’s a caretaker to everybody else.

“Think, Gil. If she’d told you herself would you have reacted this way? Isn’t it the delivery and not the message that has you so angry?”

“It’s both.”

“But does this conviction make you love her less?”

No.

Whatever she’d done, his love for her was the most potent, driving truth in his life. Maybe, just as he’d feared her finding another excuse to not be with him, she’d feared telling him about her past.

Maybe she worried, not about the archaic idea of social status or what people in town might say about them, but about him learning the truth of what she’d been through and that he’d judge her. Reject her.

Her father had never given her the chance to be born, much less gotten to know her. Was Gil going to repeat that mistake?

“I’m an idiot,” he said with a sigh.

Marley flopped into a chair, propping her feet on his desk. “Often, but since we’re bonded by blood, I try not to judge too harshly.”

“What am I going to do?”

“I’d run over there with roses, champagne and some variety of chocolate.”

Gil shook his head. “I tried that.”

“How about running over there with an apology and your hat in your hands?”

“I don’t wear a hat.”

“So find one.” She cleared her throat. “And if you could apologize for me, that would be great. I didn’t mean to blab to Mama about you guys, but she was ragging me about marrying Linc, and I—”

A knock on the door interrupted her explanation.

“Are you ready for dinner?” his mother asked as she strolled into the office. She glanced at Marley, her gaze tinged with disapproval. “You can come, too, darling. But you might want to change. We’re going to Morton’s.”

“Not so fast,” Gil said, pinning his mother with a glare. “We need to talk first.”

She laughed nervously. “Whatever about?”

“I appreciate your concern for me, but you were wrong to show up and confront Sheila that way.”

His mother lifted her chin. “I did you a favor, baby. That woman isn’t right for you. You couldn’t possibly have been serious about her.”

“I love her, so, yeah, I’d say that’s pretty serious.”

“But you can’t,” she insisted, rushing toward him. “First, you abandon your businesses to start a race team, then you won’t accept any of my attempts to find you a suitable wife and now you’re—”

“Suitable wife?” By a bare thread, Gil held on to the respect he’d been taught to show his parents. “I know you appreciate tradition, Mama, but come on.

“And I’m not changing my mind about the race teams. I’m more excited about coming to work than I ever have been. And I’m not giving up on Sheila.”

“But the Andersons and I want an alliance between our families.”

“Then you and Dad better get busy finding a way to have another kid, because I’m taken.”

His mother struggled mutely, the disappointment and annoyance obvious on her face. “It’s a mother’s duty to look out for her children.”

Gil walked around his desk, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I appreciate your concern. But I can handle my own love life.”

Actually, from her perspective, after finding out the woman he was dating had been in prison, she had tried to protect him. Maybe she’d been a bit selfish and dramatic in the process, but her actions had been about love.

She didn’t know Sheila, didn’t know how sweet and generous and driven she was, and he’d be sure to correct that oversight very soon. “Can we have dinner another time? I have something important to do.”

Clearly pleased all was forgiven, she smiled. “Of course, baby.”

“The favorite, as always,” Marley commented.

A determined gleam in her eyes, Victoria spun toward her daughter. “You and I should have dinner.”

After giving Gil a furious glance, Marley headed toward the door. “No way. Linc and I are happily engaged.”

Mama followed her. “But, honey, you don’t really want to spend your life with a race-car driver, do you? The Andersons have a son, you know.”

“Phillip?” Marley said, her voice rising as she strode into the hall, Mama close on her heels. “He’s eighteen.”

Gil smiled as he watched them go. His sister would no doubt make him pay in a big way for turning Mama onto her—even though she was the one who’d blabbed about his relationship with Sheila in the first place. Still, he’d better think of a way to suck up ASAP.

Before he could decide if flowers or a dinner gift card would be more appropriate, Rafael appeared in the doorway.

“It’s like the frontstretch at Daytona around here,” Gil muttered.

“You’ve got to do something about Sheila,” his driver said, his expression fairly close to the fierce one he adopted while driving.

“No kidding. Any ideas?”

SHEILA LEANED INTO RUE’S tight hug.

So maybe accepting help and understanding wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Maybe there were people whose trust was returned tenfold. Maybe she could find the strength to fight for something besides independence.

“You just need to go to him and explain,” Patsy said, rubbing Sheila’s knee.

“Can I give him a good jab before that explanation?” Rue wanted to know.

“No,” Shelia said. “I lied to him.”

Everybody ignored her.

“Really.” Emma-Lee looked disgusted. “How could Gil possibly believe Sheila was a real criminal?”

“I was a real criminal,” Sheila felt bound to point out.

“But there were extenuating circumstances,” Patsy said. “Your ex was a user and complete jerk.” The comforting strokes against her knee increased. “He abused you.”

“Okay, sure.” Sheila straightened. “But Pity Fest is over.” She let her gaze sweep the women around her, so loyal and true. A lump of a different kind formed in her throat. “Getting arrested saved me in a way. Who knows how long I would have stayed with him if we hadn’t been parted by force? As weird as it sounds, prison gave me discipline and structure.”

“And we’re here to give you love and affection,” Rue said.

Sheila clutched her hand. “You guys are the best. I’m going to be fine.”

“But you’re going to talk to Gil,” Emma-Lee prodded.

“I’ll try,” Sheila promised, though she wasn’t sure anything she said would make a difference. Still, the Tarts were right. She owed it to herself to fight for happiness. Whatever she’d done in the past, she’d paid for, and she deserved a future free from judgment and betrayal.

Rue nudged Emma-Lee. “This is about Sheila, not peace and quiet at Double S.”

“Peace and quiet? What’s that?” Exhaustion was evident in Emma-Lee’s eyes. “We’re in the racing business. I don’t see how—”

“Mind if I interrupt?”

At the familiar deep voice, everything inside Sheila froze. Then her heart lurched, crashing against her ribs, as if it recognized its mate and wanted nothing more than to bond with its other half.

Swallowing hard, she managed to shift her gaze toward the man in the doorway.

Oh, wow.

Was he always that beautiful? Had his eyes always shined with that glorious light?

She didn’t want to hurt anymore. She didn’t want him to walk away from her again. He was everything, and surrender to him wasn’t a sacrifice, it was the path to happiness.

But before she could move, Rue leaped to her feet. “You can just back up, Gil Sizemore. Sheila’s been abused long enough.”

“Abused? What are you—” He stopped, his eyes going blank briefly before he fisted his hands at his sides. “Something happened to her, something bad,” he whispered.

“You bet it did,” Rue said, advancing on him. “And unless you’re here with flowers, apologies and serious declarations, you can just turn right back around.”

Gil held up a single red rose. “I’ve got all that.”

Tears burst behind Sheila’s eyes. Her friends had defended her, the love of her life was standing mere feet away. How odd was it that life could turn around in a moment? How miraculous that a woman of her humble beginnings should be so blessed?

Patsy kissed her cheek, then urged everyone out the door—even Rue, who seemed determined to find a protest, though it was obvious Gil hadn’t come to argue.

Sheila found herself facing him, and everything inside her calmed. There was so much to talk about, so much to figure out, but she knew they’d find a way. The trust and hope that had been broken in her life over and over was healed.

Gil was all she wanted and needed.

Without a word, she ran toward him, hooking her arms around his neck and holding him tight. “I love you.”

“I loved you first.” Laughing, he kissed her cheeks, her forehead and chin, then her lips, each caress more tender than the last. “And always.”

She let his warmth overtake her. Nothing could have prepared her for a bond like theirs, but she knew she’d always treasure him.

Leaning back, he kissed the tip of her nose. “I had a lot of advice and plans that involved huge bouquets, chocolate, banners hooked to airplanes and even exotic trips to the beach, but in the end, I only have me.”

“You’ll do.” As her heart rejuvenated, pumping full of new life, she glided her fingers across his cheek. “I should explain—about the conviction, what I’ve done in my past.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“But it matters, and I trust you. You need to hear it all—from me, not court records.”

“Is there an abridged version?”

“Why?”

“I want to kiss you again. And soon.”

Of course she gave him the quick version. They had all the time in the world for details.

Her ex-boyfriend had come up with a scheme to con seniors in Florida out of their savings with promises of a posh retirement community that didn’t exist. He’d been a controlling and abusive man, and Sheila was so afraid of him, she went along with the swindle—at least until the seniors her ex was so sure were clueless figured out what was going on and went to the police.

“I’m sorry he hurt you,” Gil said, holding her face gently in his hands.

“I’d go through it all over again if that path led me here to you.”

“But I hurt you, too—by not trusting you.”

She grinned. “You can make it up to me with an exotic trip to the beach.”

“Anytime.” He paused, wincing. “Well, after the championship’s decided this weekend.”

She angled her head, her lips a breath away from his. “Isn’t there a beach near that track?”

End of the Line

Jean Brashear

To all the members of the NASCAR Nation—what a great group you are, and what fun I’ve had becoming a fan!

To the ever-wonderful Marsha Zinberg, for giving me a chance to come play; Stacy Boyd, who’s a force of nature and such fun to work with; and Karen Reid, who’s a marvel of efficiency (and always cheerful, to boot.)

And for my beloved Ercel, who’s never once complained about race day!

CHAPTER ONE

Late August

“COME ON, BRO, I’M buying dinner to celebrate,” said Will Branch. “At least one of the Branches is still in contention.”

Bart knew he should be on top of the world because he’d already qualified for the Chase for the NASCAR Sprint Cup with two races left, but he couldn’t celebrate, not when his twin had wrecked at Bristol and was now too far back to make the cut.

Yes, they were competitive with each other and always had been—they’d battled over everything from toys to grades to girls all their lives—but Will was also his best friend. This achievement was sweet, but his joy was tempered by knowing his twin’s extreme disappointment. Didn’t matter that last season Will had made the cut and he’d missed it.

“Maudie’s, huh?” he quipped because it was their way to tease, not be sentimental. “Couldn’t spring for a steak house, you cheapskate?”

Will grinned. “Mellie doesn’t work at a steak house.” His eyebrows rose suggestively as he spoke of the waitress Bart found more intriguing by the day. She wasn’t his usual type, too serious, too skittish—not that she didn’t have plenty of reason to be serious. She was a mother, a very young one, and that was no easy job.

“You wouldn’t be matchmaking, right? Doesn’t Mom do enough of that?” Bart complained. “Ever since you discovered Sam was your child and you and Zoe got married, Mom’s developed way too much interest in my love life. And when the twins were born—”

“Zoe and I make cute babies, so sue me.” Will’s eyes sparkled with a joy that had been missing for a long time before he and Zoe reconnected and he learned he had a ten-year-old son. After their father, Hilton Branch, had embezzled millions and left his family in tatters, there had been little to smile about.

But Bart was not going to think about his no-good father. Hilton was in prison now, and Bart wanted nothing to do with him.

As they approached the door of Maudie’s Down Home Diner, Bart hesitated. “Listen, Will, I’m—”

Will clapped him on the back and practically shoved him through. “Don’t say it, man. Look, it sucks not to be in the final field, but I’ll live.” His expression turned fierce. “Next year, my man. Count on it. But for now, it’s all about you. Just the way you like it, showboat.”

Bart had to laugh. Will was the attention hound, not him. “Yeah, well, your ugly mug would stink up the newspaper pages. Better me than you.”

They exchanged grins, back on the safe ground of giving each other grief. Then Will’s face lit. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Lily.” He pushed past Bart to take Mellie’s little curly haired daughter from her and toss her in the air.

Lily squealed and giggled, but the instant she was safely back in Will’s clasp, she turned toward Bart and stretched out her arms. “Bart!” The demand was clear.

Bart plucked her from his twin’s hold. “Hey, pretty girl. How are you today?”

She began to babble about what the bear he’d given her had done today and what she’d had for dinner. Bart answered her seriously, but he couldn’t help glancing past her where Mellie stood a few feet away. Slender and delicate, a pixie with short, spiky black hair and too-old brown eyes, she bore only a faint resemblance to her round-cheeked cherub of a daughter.

For once, Mellie was smiling, all the way smiling, at Bart. “Congratulations,” she said quietly, then cast her eyes down as she so often did. She glanced up again. “I’m very happy for you.”

Bart kept his voice low, too. “Thank you.” His gaze locked on hers. “Want to go out and celebrate?” he found himself asking.

Mellie looked as shocked as he felt. In the months since she’d arrived in Mooresville, they’d done an awkward dance. Bart would tease her, Mellie would blush and shy away. He sensed she was interested, just as he was, yet her innate caution never allowed him to close the gap.

“I’m serious, Mellie.” To his surprise, he realized he was. “Go out with me.”

“I can’t. We can’t, you know that.”

“I don’t know that—and I don’t understand why.” An unaccustomed anger rose within him, born of frustration. She’d had shadows in her eyes from the first day, and she was maddeningly unwilling to trust anyone. Her boss, Sheila, maybe, and he thought she and Daisy Brookshire were becoming friends. Recently he’d seen her relax around some members of a group of local women who met at Maudie’s once a week, but mostly she kept to herself.

“I—I have to get back to work. Come on, Lily. Louise will be here any second to babysit you.” She took Lily from his arms, and Lily protested.

“I want Bart,” she whined.

Bart nearly argued, but Mellie’s beleaguered expression kept him quiet. “It’s okay, Lily. I’ll see you next time, okay?”

Lily frowned but quieted. The older woman who kept her arrived just then, and Bart heard his brother hailing him from a booth.

Bart shook his head at Mellie’s retreating back and wondered yet again why he bothered. A more skittish woman he’d never met.

If only he could dismiss her so easily himself. Or figure out the attraction. He wasn’t one for troubled souls. He liked his women cheerful and easygoing, not prickly and reclusive.

“C’mon, hotshot. Your adoring public awaits,” called out Will.

Bart snorted. Then he threaded through the crowded dining room and focused on the handshakes and backslaps of congratulations coming his way.

SEVERAL DAYS LATER, ON the way to see Daisy Brookshire and her new baby, Lily was pouting in her car seat. “I wanna go see Bart.”

Amelia Parsons, known by everyone in Mooresville as Mellie Donovan, sighed. Why her baby sister—half sister, actually—had formed such an intense bond to Bart Branch was a mystery. He was wonderful to Lily, of course—a surprise in itself for a hot bachelor—but he was way out of their league, to say nothing of the fact that she wasn’t in North Carolina to have a fling with a gorgeous man.

She was only twenty years old and on the run. She desperately needed to find Hal Walker, her mother’s second husband who’d abandoned them all months before her mother had been diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. Her mother had died, leaving Mellie with no money and a baby half-sister to raise—along with eerie anonymous phone calls and their house turned upside down as though being searched for something…and only her mother’s deathbed mumblings about Hal and North Carolina to go on.

Amelia hadn’t known what to do or where to turn, but after the day that a dark van tried to drive her off the road, the stakes had risen. She’d reported the incident but with no witnesses and no evidence, the sheriff hadn’t been able to help her. It was then that she’d been certain of only one thing: she had to find Hal Walker, whatever it took. At a minimum, he would have to take care of his child. Amelia was terrified that she wasn’t up to the job, though she loved her baby sister with everything in her.

So long raven hair was chopped off.

Amelia Parsons became Mellie Donovan.

And a young, terrified girl headed for North Carolina with only her last paycheck to support herself and the little girl she let every assume was her child, for fear Lily would be taken from her. She’d wished to be able to change Lily’s first name, too, but at two—just recently turned three—Lily was too young to play along or understand. Thank goodness Lily already called her Mellie, their mother’s pet name for Amelia, and not her real name. Everyone who knew Lily understood that Lily had a mind of her own, and that made for an easy explanation of why Lily called her “mother” Mellie instead of Mommy. Mellie did everything she could to moderate her little sister’s temperamental nature, but Lily had been through a lot in the past year, losing her mother and her home.

Mellie couldn’t let herself think about all she, too, had lost.

She was, however, more than grateful for the day she’d stopped at Maudie’s Down Home Diner to get food for herself and Lily. Meeting Sheila Trueblood, the owner, being offered a job, a place to stay and a loving grandmotherly woman, Louise, to watch over Lily had been the beginning of a new life Mellie wished she could keep.

But every day of lying was getting harder, she thought as she pulled up in front of the cabin where her friend Daisy Brookshire was staying.

She’d found no trace of Hal Walker. She couldn’t wait forever to resume her search. Lily had a father out there somewhere, and Hal should take care of his responsibilities to her.

“I want Bart!” Lily shrieked.

“Me, too, Lily,” she murmured, gathering the child to her and rocking her. “But it’s been a long time since I got anything I wanted.” She pressed Lily’s cheek to hers.

“We’ll be okay, sweetie. I promise we’ll be okay.”

A tear rolled down her cheek as she reassured her little sister and wished there was someone to make her believe the same.

Then Sheila walked out the front door.

Lily’s eyes went as wide as her grin, and Bart Branch receded in importance. “Sheila!” She adored Sheila and had from the first day.

Sheila came to Mellie’s rescue, swinging Lily to the ground and dancing her around as Lily giggled.

Thank you, Mellie mouthed to her friend and employer who’d become much like a big sister. She and Lily had no family, no one but each other, and unless she found Hal Walker, that wouldn’t change.

If only she could figure out exactly where to look.

“BE CAREFUL, LILY,” MELLIE said as the toddler squatted in front of baby Brianna’s carrier a while later, as they sat on the cabin’s front porch. She wasn’t positive Lily understood that Brianna wasn’t a doll to play with, so she couldn’t let herself settle back into the hickory rocker.

“She’ll be all right,” Daisy assured her.

“I don’t know why you’re so calm about this.”

“Were you a nervous new mother?” Daisy asked.

Lordy, she was tired of lying to good people. “I don’t know, maybe.” She glanced up. “But I do know Lily. She wouldn’t mean to do anything wrong, but she’s never been around a baby before.” Mellie chewed at her lower lip.

“Come inside, everything’s ready,” Sheila called from the screen door.

“Okay!” Lily leaped up, baby forgotten.

Mellie picked up the baby carrier and took Brianna inside. Daisy was still recovering.

“Looks yummy. Thank you, Sheila.”

It did indeed—salads and fresh bread and fluffy key lime tartlets, perfect for a hot, humid late-summer afternoon.

Once they were settled, Sheila turned to Daisy. “There’s a NASCAR retrospective on TV that I’d like to see. Do you suppose Quinn will mind if I turn on that gigantic flat screen?”

Daisy shook her head, though Mellie would have preferred to sit and visit. Sheila turned on the TV, but Mellie focused on fixing Lily a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. None of them watched very closely, as Mellie teased Sheila about doing her homework on NASCAR for the benefit of one Gil Sizemore, the owner of Double S Racing, who spent a whole lot of time at Maudie’s—and not for the meat-loaf sandwiches he claimed to crave.

It was fun watching Sheila get all flustered. Her boss was just about to zing Mellie back when she glanced up. “Hey, look at the TV. There’s Bart and his brother, Will, back when they were both driving in the Camping World Truck Series. Get a look at those haircuts. I swear Will’s sporting a mullet!”

“No way.” Mellie giggled. “Millionaire playboys? Is that what the headline under the picture says? Is that true?”

“It’s true or used to be, anyway,” Sheila said. “Their father was enormously rich, but he embezzled a lot of money from his stockholders a couple of years ago, and the family lost just about everything, including Bart’s and Will’s car sponsorships. It was a really big deal. Especially when their dad up and disappeared like he did. Took the police, gosh, over a year to track him down. I can’t believe you don’t know this.”

Amelia, Lily and their mother, Rose, had lived in a remote area of Idaho, and they’d never followed NASCAR, but she didn’t talk about her real life or where she’d come from, not to anyone. “So what happened to him?” she asked to get Sheila off the topic of her past.

Daisy glanced up at the screen. “That’s him, their dad, Hilton Branch. He’s in prison in Texas and probably will be for the rest of his life.”

“If there’s any justice,” Sheila added. “Bart hates talking about his dad—both twins do. So here Bart is, on cloud nine being in the championship hunt, and what do those reporters do but dredge up the old stories?”

Mellie barely heard a word either said, however. Eyes locked on the television screen, she would swear her heart stopped cold—as she looked at the man she knew as Hal Walker, standing with his twin sons.

How on earth could Lily’s father also be Hilton Branch? The man she remembered had been very kind to her mother, had genuinely loved her. Had been kind to Mellie, too, even though she wasn’t his.

How could that man have embezzled millions and left another family destitute, then eventually wound up in jail?

Poor Bart. Oh, dear God. What would Bart say if he knew—

She would never find out because she didn’t dare speak a word about it. She had no idea what to do, where to go now.

Whoever Hal Walker was or had been, he was nowhere nearby. He was in Texas, and she was in North Carolina, halfway across the country. She couldn’t begin to afford to travel there—if not for Sheila’s kindness, she wouldn’t be able to keep a roof over Lily’s head.

The trip from Idaho had been grueling, with a toddler who missed her mother, and Mellie herself aching in every cell for her mother’s love and guidance, too. She’d been responsible for all of them for many months before her mother’s death, and she’d desperately wanted to quit being in charge.

Lily had blossomed here, and Mellie felt safe. She didn’t want to pack up and run again.

But she might have to.

Her reason for being in North Carolina was gone. Whatever had led Hal Walker—Hilton Branch, she corrected—to tell her mother to look in North Carolina if she needed help, she could not imagine. Suddenly it hit her that her mother’s marriage had been a lie. Hal— Hilton—had already been married, so the wedding that made her mother so happy had been a total sham.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sheila said, reaching past Mellie to wipe Lily’s sticky fingers. Vaguely Mellie realized Lily had been smearing peanut butter and jelly all over her hands.

Get a grip. You can’t afford to think about it now. She took over cleaning up Lily while her mind raced.

Then she escaped to the bathroom to wash her own hands while staring in the mirror at a twenty-year-old girl who felt more like a hundred.

Don’t borrow trouble was a favorite saying of her mother’s. I don’t want to, Mama. All I want is to be a normal girl, go to college, meet boys, be young.

Mellie sighed. She hadn’t ever been young, and normal was not her life. She dried her hands and headed back to join her friends.

But when Lily was ready for a nap, Mellie gratefully escaped.

CHAPTER TWO

“BART?” A FEMININE voice spoke when he answered the phone.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up? How’s my favorite niece?”

“Better be careful about calling Diane that, now that Will has a little girl.”

“Um, yeah. Favorite older niece?” He still couldn’t get over his twin being a family man—from bachelor to married man with three kids in barely over a year.

“She’s fine. Growing like a weed. Craig is already cleaning his shotgun to warn off suitors.”

“She’s a baby.” Bart wasn’t great at keeping up with birthdays, but surely dating was a long way off.

Penny laughed. “He says he’s only practicing.” Then her voice sobered. “Bart, I need to talk to you.”

“Sounds ominous,” he teased.

“It’s about Daddy.”

All notion of teasing fled. “Forget it. He can rot in jail. Whatever he wants, I don’t care.” His hand tightened on the receiver. “And I don’t know why you do. He took everything from you, and at one of the worst times of your life.”

“I know, but—”

Bart didn’t wait. “Forget how he screwed Will and me. For how he humiliated Mom and left her helpless, I will never forgive him.”

“She stood up to the test, even though she was terrified. And now she’s got Chuck. That man adores her.”

“It’s the least she deserves after how that bastard—”

“Bart, stop. This isn’t about helping him, not really. It’s about the rest of us. We’ve been threatened.”

“What? He’s threatening us?”

“Will you please chill out? No, he’s not threatening us. It’s some men he got crosswise with. They’ve threatened others, too, and they may be in greater danger.”

“What do you mean? Who else?”

Penny exhaled. “I wish I could be there to tell you this in person, but…”

“Just spit it out.”

“We have a half sister.”

Bart blinked. “We…what?”

“Our father had a second family with a woman named Rose Parsons. They had a little girl together. She’s about three now.”

“Where? Who? Why—” Bart gave up. He thought he’d plumbed the depths of his father’s depravity, but this… “Does Mom know? Where did he meet this woman?”

“Yes, Mom knows. I told her last night. Sawyer was there, too. As for Rose, he met her on a hunting trip in Idaho.”

“What kind of woman—”

“She didn’t know he was married or had a family. He didn’t mean to fall in love, he says. He met her under another name and by the time he married her, it was too late.”

“Married her?” He couldn’t help one harsh bark of laughter. “He is a piece of work. So is she aware that he’s a bigamist? That she’s only one of his victims?”

“Rose is dead. I found out when I tried to contact her. He didn’t know, and it just about killed him when I broke the news. He really loved her.”

Bart snorted. “Yeah, sure. The only person he’s ever loved is himself.”

“Bart…”

He sighed. “So why is he telling us about this woman? Doesn’t he know we don’t care? That we hate his guts?”

“I’m not asking you for help for his sake. It’s for that little girl, our half sister. She’s in danger, and she’s gone missing, along with her sister, Rose’s child from her first marriage.”

“What kind of danger? Who are these guys?”

“Some shady types at an overseas firm called Biscayne Bay. Daddy borrowed a lot of money from them to buy out his partner, Fred Clifton, and he was embezzling from the banks to pay them off and to keep up two families.”

“You don’t expect violin strings for him, surely.”

Penny continued without responding to his sarcasm. “It’s a complicated situation I’m still not sure I understand, but basically, he set aside some money for Rose and her girls when things started falling apart and he had decided to pull his vanishing act. He gave it to Clifton for safekeeping with instructions not to let even him know where it was. He only told Rose to contact Clifton if she was ever in need, not that there was money available.”

“He left this woman money and Mom with nothing?”

“I know,” Penny said.

“Every cent you had was tied up in his bank stock. You lost it all, and he—” Rage made it hard for him to continue.

“I’m all right now, Bart.”

“How can you be? People lost jobs, you nearly lost your marriage, Will and I—” He reined in his fury.

“And he says he doesn’t know where it is? Why should we believe him? He spent years lying to all of us.”

“If you could see him now…”

“When did you become his chief apologist, Pen?”

“That’s not fair.” Her voice wobbled.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t understand—” He stopped himself. Accusing her was not what he wanted to be doing. “Tell me why we should care.”

“Because the head guy at Biscayne Bay sent a message to him in prison. They found out about the second family and learned of that money. They killed his partner, Fred Clifton, Daddy believes, trying to find it. They’re convinced that he must have also stashed away other money, and they want it. They’ve told him his children are in danger if he doesn’t tell them where all the money is. He says these guys don’t fool around, that we have to take them seriously. I’ve never seen him so intense about anything.”

“But the cops looked everywhere and determined that he’s dead broke. There is no money.”

“Right. He says the same, but Biscayne Bay doesn’t believe him. Daddy’s worried about us.”

“We can take care of ourselves.”

“But those two girls can’t.”

“So warn them.”

“That’s the problem. They’ve disappeared. We have to find them.”

“Why?”

“Bart Branch, I know you aren’t ready to forgive him. I understand why. But this is about two young girls, one practically a baby, who are out there alone. They’re innocents, and Mother taught us better than that. We have to help.”

Bart thought fast. “You can’t get any more involved, Pen. You have a family. So do Will and Sawyer. You stay out of this.”

“Does that mean you’ll look for them?”

“Damn it.” He exhaled. “I’m trying to win a championship, sis. A whole lot of people are depending on me to stay focused.” But he knew if he didn’t act, she would. “All right. I’ll do this much—I’ll hire a private investigator. But I’m not talking to that son of a bitch. He can rot in jail for all I care.”

“You have to forgive him someday, Bart—for your sake more than his.”

“I don’t have to do anything where he’s concerned. He never cared about us.”

“You were his pride and joy, you and Will.”

“We were show horses, that’s all. He liked the reflected glory.”

“He’s changed. He’s a very chastened man.”

“I don’t care.”

She sighed. “But you’ll take this on? Find our half sister?”

A child, another innocent endangered because of one selfish bastard. “For her sake, yeah. Not for his. And I’m digging into this Biscayne Bay—but you stay out of it, you hear?”

“I’ll do anything I can to help, you know that.”

“Just take care of yourself and that little girl. Tell Craig I’m expecting him to throw a brick wall around you.” He thought a minute. “Have you told Will yet?”

“No.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you. Mom’s worried about that little girl, too.”

It was typical of his mother and her generous heart. “Tell Chuck to be sure she’s protected.”

“You know he will. These sound like really bad guys, Bart. You be careful yourself.”

Like he needed one more thing to worry about. But that child was blameless. “Will do. Pen, could you write up everything you’ve learned and send it to me for the investigator?”

“I already have, just to keep the facts straight in my own head. It’s a really tangled mess.”

“Why am I not surprised, given who created it?” Then he relented. “Be careful, Penny. Stay out of it from now on.”

“Not if you need me.”

“Promise me.”

“All right. But you promise, too. Watch your back. And stay in touch.”

“Anything else? Pick up my socks? Brush my teeth? Other instructions, big sis?” he tried to lighten the tone by resorting to his more usual teasing.

“Yes, all those. Plus find a good woman and settle down.”

For a second, Mellie’s face drifted before him, but he shook his head. Over the past couple of weeks, she’d become very distant, and he didn’t have the time to spare to pin her down.

Now he would have even less time.

After the season’s over was becoming his mantra. That was the place he tucked a thousand and one items he couldn’t deal with right now. Mellie Donovan was at the top of that list.

He made a crackling noise in the phone. “Sorry. You’re breaking up. Gotta go.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna work—but I get the message.” Penny’s laughter was nice to hear as she hung up.

Bart clicked off and stared into the distance. Two races down in the championship run, and he’d moved up one spot to fourth. He was spending every spare second in the shop, running simulations and dissecting the car with his crew chief, Philip Whalen, and the engineering staff.

Now he had to find a private investigator.

A name popped into his head. Hadn’t Jake McMasters found the missing Grosso daughter last year? Who did he know who would have Jake’s contact info?

Patsy and Dean Grosso would, of course, but…his lips curved, and his heart lightened a little. Sooner or later every tidbit in NASCAR came Sheila’s way. He’d ask her instead.

And if Mellie just happened to be at work at Sheila’s diner, well…he didn’t mind taking advantage of the opportunity to see her while he was there.

“HEY, GIRL. LOVER BOY’S here.” Sheila nudged Mellie as Mellie waited for a pot of coffee to stop dripping.

Mellie felt the jolt of the mere possibility that Bart was nearby. Though she tried, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder.

His gaze locked on hers as he stood in the doorway. He started in her direction.

Oh, no. She nearly dropped the carafe she was holding. “Sheila, I…I need something from the back.”

Sheila frowned. “I can get it.”

“No!” Mellie heard the panic in her voice and tried to settle it. “I just… I’ll be back. Could you… I don’t want to see him.”

“Are you kidding me? Girl, when a man looks at you with blue bedroom eyes like those, you don’t run. What’s going on?”

Get hold of yourself. “It’s not—he’s not—”

“Hey, ladies,” said a very familiar baritone voice. “How ya doing?”

And her opportunity to escape was lost. Mellie swallowed hard and turned.

“Good,” replied Sheila. “Not as good as you, maybe. Moved up to fourth after Dover, I see. That was some sweet racing. Gil wasn’t happy, since it was at Rafael’s expense.”

“I feel real bad about that, I promise you.”

Sheila snickered. “I’m sure.”

Mellie risked a glance upward, but immediately cast her eyes back down when she realized that Bart’s lighthearted tone did not match the intensity of his gaze.

“Um, congratulations. I, uh—I have a table waiting.” She scooted past him, painfully aware of his big, solid presence.

He swiveled and followed her progress, one eyebrow arched, telling her he knew what she was doing. Then he frowned, obviously wondering why.

She couldn’t tell him. I’m doing this for your sake, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t. Even if he didn’t have bigger issues on his mind, how could she begin to explain what she didn’t understand herself?

His father had been married to her mother—no. His father had pretended to marry her mother, was the bald truth. He’d lied to Rose, lied to all of them.

But why? How could Hilton Branch want any family but his own? Mellie had never met Sawyer or the sister, Penny, but she’d seen Will in the diner often, and Bart…

Bart. He was a good man. Sexy, yes. More attractive than any man ought to be, but also intelligent and kind…look at how he was with Lily, who adored—

Lily. His sister. Well, half sister.

Mellie and Bart were not related, but Lily was family to all the Branches.

Holy cow.

“Hey!” exclaimed a customer when hot coffee overflowed the rim.

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Frantically, Mellie used napkins and her apron to mop up. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” the man said. “Are you?”

Sheila appeared and removed the pot from her shaking hand. “I’ve got this. Go ahead and change your apron.” A quick look of concern and a dash of her head sent Mellie back toward the kitchen while Sheila calmly cleaned up and joked with the customer, telling him breakfast was on the house.

Mellie’s eyes welled. She made her way blindly across the diner, skirting around a table to keep it between herself and Bart. She scurried into the kitchen, headed toward the small bathroom at the back.

“Hey, girl, you okay?” asked Al, the cook. From his vantage point he would have seen everything. “Want to go upstairs with Louise and Lily?”

At that instant, Bart rounded the doorway. “Let me look at that,” he said. “Did you get burned?” He reached for her hand.

“You can’t be back here. I’m fine. Go outside.” She jerked away and raced for the bathroom, all but slamming the door in his face.

Heavy footsteps followed. “Mellie, I’m not leaving until I look at that arm.”

“I’m not burned. I’m okay.” She stood next to the slab of wood separating them, trembling at his nearness, at how much she wanted to lean on him.

But she had absolutely no right to. Bart had done nothing wrong and had a lot on his shoulders already.

The one who should be fixing this was the man who continued to hurt all of them.

CHAPTER THREE

“DUDE, YOU NEED A SOCIAL life,” said Bart’s motor-home driver, Jimbo Wheeler, as he flipped the burgers on the grill. “Only two races down in the championship run. You can’t afford to be this tight. Go have some fun. This ain’t healthy.”

“I qualified twenty-third,” Bart responded. “Doesn’t earn me any fun.”

“This is California. You can make it up, and you know that. You’re in fourth place in points. What’s the problem?”

What’s the problem? Well, how about that Jake McMasters was a busy man and was having trouble getting prison officials to schedule an interview with Bart’s father to get more information? That Bart was worried about his family’s safety? Or that his distraction had shown during qualifying? “Too many points between me and first.”

Jimbo shrugged. “Nobody’s better on the intermediate tracks, and they’re the biggest chunk of the schedule.” He took a sip of his beer and frowned. “What’s really wrong?”

Bart wished he could confide in the older man. Jimbo had stuck by Bart through the scandal, even when Bart hadn’t been sure he’d be able to pay him, but the family had agreed to keep Hilton’s lies very quiet until they had a better handle on the situation. “Just tired.” He leaned his head back in the lawn chair.

“Who wouldn’t be? You’re running like crazy, 24/7. Even on what ought to be off days, you’re in the shop studying printouts or doing simulations. You need some downtime, son. A little flirting with a lucky lady wouldn’t hurt, either. Not like there aren’t plenty hanging around waiting for you to notice them.”

It was to Bart’s dismay that the face that automatically sprang to mind was that of one skittish, mule-stubborn little waitress at Maudie’s. He had no idea what he’d done, but Mellie was avoiding him as if he’d contracted the plague.

She shouldn’t appeal to him. He went for long-stemmed blondes, not waifs with a boy’s haircut and dark, sad eyes. He had enough problems without taking on hers, but damned if he didn’t miss teasing her, flirting with her, however much doing so flustered her.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted to Jimbo. “But I’m too tired to bother. Soon as we eat, I’m turning in.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling your mama or a doctor.”

“What?” Bart scrambled to sit up. “Why?”

“The day Playboy Bart Branch would rather go to bed alone than be out with a lady…you gotta be either crazy or coming down with something.”

Bart narrowed his eyes. “Leave my mother out of it.” He knew his voice had gone feral, but Maeve Branch Lawrence was finally happy, and he would not see her distressed.

“Whoa, boy.” Jimbo held up his hands, even the one with the spatula in it. “You know I think the world of Maeve. I was just joking.” Then his own expression sharpened. “I know you’re not sick, but I’m beginning to think there’s a woman involved in this, just not like I was assuming. There is, isn’t there?” He leaned closer and examined Bart, making Bart feel like his eagle-eyed mother actually was on hand. “Have you gone sweet on some girl, is that what’s the matter?”

“Of course not.” But Bart abandoned the defense he was about to mount. He was a lousy liar, and Jimbo would dig at him until he unearthed the truth. While he was fiercely loyal, Jimbo was also quite gregarious. Bart would be smart to let Jimbo think what he wanted to, though he had to be cagey about it. He was far from ready for the world to know about the whole Hilton–lost baby situation. “Not really,” he hedged.

Jimbo’s eyes lit, and he flashed a wide grin. “Well, what do you know? My boy’s gone and fallen in love.”

Bart nearly rocketed straight out of his chair. “Don’t go getting ahead of yourself, buddy. I’m not in love.” He wasn’t. He wouldn’t ever be. Love made people stupid. Look at all his mother had tolerated from his worthless dad.

Jimbo turned back to the burgers, eyebrows lifted as he whistled. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“I could just fire you, you know.”

Jimbo cast a glance at him, still smiling. “But you won’t. Who else would put up with you?”

Bart shook his head and clapped the older man on the back. “I think you got that backward. Who would put up with you, is the question.”

Jimbo handed him a plate. “You just keep telling yourself that, son. Now I want to see you eat every bite. You got a championship to win, plus some fair maiden’s heart. You’ll need your strength.” He turned away, chuckling, and began building his own burger.

Bart started to argue, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d won an argument with Jimbo, so instead he focused on eating.

BACK IN MOORESVILLE, Bart parked his truck outside Maudie’s and remained inside the cab, wondering what he was doing here. His dismal sixteenth-place finish at California had him in no mood to talk to anyone. He was still in fourth place, but barely; the points between himself and third had widened, and if he didn’t get himself together before Charlotte, he’d find himself too far back to make up the distance.

The only good news was that he’d have two weeks at home. All the teams enjoyed the respite from travel the two times a year they raced here.

Though to say home was stretching it. His condo barely qualified. He spent more time in his motor home, really.

Just then, his cell phone rang, and he glanced at the display. Will. They’d only had a couple of minutes to talk after the race, but with the unerring ability of a twin, Will had known he was in a funk. “Come over to the house when you get back,” he’d offered. “You know Zoe and the kids would love to see you.”

Bart knew that was true. Usually, he liked few things better than hanging out with his brother’s family. Zoe had created a real home, warm and welcoming, and his brother was flourishing there. His nephew Sam was a great kid, and Bart often took him places, especially since Will and Zoe’s twins had been born. Time spent in Sam’s company was both relaxing and fun—you never knew what the boy would come up with next. The babies were getting a lot more interesting, too.

But sometimes the contrast between Bart’s life and his brother’s was just too stark. Right now he didn’t need any reminders of what he didn’t have—not that he wanted to settle down, he reminded himself.

So instead of answering his brother’s call, he let it go to voice mail and sent a text. Got something better going, bro. You understand.

The reply winged back. Go for it.

Bart’s shoulders settled. He’d never pull off the lie if Will could hear his voice. Thank goodness for the neutrality of electronic communications. He took another look at Maudie’s and nearly started up his engine again, but just then his stomach growled loudly, and he realized that he was starving.

Doesn’t matter that Mellie’s ignoring my existence lately. She’s not my type anyway.

He strode inside, looked around for his favorite booth and headed in that direction.

“Bart!” called out a child’s voice filled with delight.

He turned around, only to see Lily in Sheila’s arms, her own chubby ones held out toward him in clear demand. “Pick me up,” she ordered.

Well, at least somebody’s happy to see me, he thought, and a smile rose inside him. “Hey, my best girl, how are you?” In seconds, he’d covered the distance between them and plucked Lily from Sheila’s grasp.

Instantly, she laid her head on his shoulder as though it was her ideal spot.

Bart found himself relaxing as he hadn’t in days, maybe weeks, and for a second, he didn’t think about anything connected to racing. He simply enjoyed the child’s sweet softness and utter trust.

Then Lily’s head rose, and she clasped his face in her two little hands, staring at him seriously. “Where have you been, Bart? I missed you.”

His heart melted. “I missed you, too. So…want to come talk to me while I eat?”

Just then Mellie emerged from the kitchen with a full tray that threatened to overpower her slight figure. “Lily! You’re supposed to be with Sheila.” She glanced quickly at Bart and just as swiftly looked away. She started to set the tray down.

“She’s fine,” he reassured Mellie. “But that tray’s too heavy for you. Take her, and I’ll carry that for you.”

Mellie’s brows snapped together. “I carry more than this every day. I don’t need your help.”

“That much is obvious.” He held out Lily in preparation for the swap, but Mellie only skirted around them, while Lily began to whimper. He drew her back. “Sorry, sweetie.” He cuddled the little girl while staring over her head at the retreating Mellie.

“It’s not you,” Sheila said quietly behind him. “She’s on edge, but I’m not sure why. That girl’s hiding secrets, but I’m not making any progress in figuring out what or why.”

Secrets. “I’ve had a bellyful of secrets,” he replied. “And I don’t need the grief.”

“But she needs friends. Lots of folks like her, but there’s a part of her no one can touch except this little girl…and you.”

His gaze snapped to Sheila’s. “Me? Are you kidding? She goes out of her way to ignore me.”

“Don’t be such a guy, Bart. Open your eyes. There’s something between you and Mellie, no matter how hard both of you try to pretend otherwise.”

He glanced across the restaurant at the woman who was barely more than a girl, a slim fairy whose delicate frame hid a constitution of pure steel. Yes, he was drawn to her and had been from the first, but…

Just then, she finished writing an order and turned in his direction. Their eyes locked, and for a second, Bart felt it again, that tug. What was it? He frowned because he didn’t understand. She was too young, too complicated, too small, too…

She frowned right back and reversed course.

Bart was surprised to hear himself laugh. One thing she damn sure wasn’t was timid. Her appearance was a complete deception.

“You laughed, Bart,” observed Lily. Her solemn little face broke into a smile guaranteed to melt the hardest of hearts. “Laugh again,” she ordered.

Bart yanked his attention from Lily’s mother’s back to the little queen in his arms. He grinned and tossed her up in the air, catching her safely as first a squeal and then a giggle erupted. “You laugh, little Lily.”

And she did. “Again,” she urged.

Bart complied, and for a few minutes, lost himself in playing with Lily.

LILY’S FIRST SQUEAL HAD Mellie reacting instinctively, gathering herself to charge to her aid, but one glance was plenty to reassure her that Lily was in good hands. She closed her eyes against how lovely the sight was, the big man grinning as he delighted a little girl he had no idea was his half sister.

And that’s just one of the reasons you should keep Lily away…or come clean, her conscience urged.

I’m trying to save him, another part of her argued. He doesn’t need the distraction right now. After the championship is over, I’ll find a time.

But another part of her was unbearably tempted to snatch Lily up, pack their bags and be gone before sunrise.

Mellie forced herself to turn from them and focus on her work.

BART SPENT A GOOD HALF HOUR or so playing with Lily and blocking out the woman so studiously ignoring him, until Lily yawned and crawled up in his lap, falling asleep against him with complete trust.

His stomach growled again, but he wasn’t about to disturb her or the peace that stole over him. Sheila glanced their way and smiled, and for the first time all day, Bart felt good. Really good.

He looked down at the tousled brown curls, the little hand lying limp on his forearm, and he felt an actual lump in his throat. He looked across the diner seeking Mellie, putting himself in her place for once, responsible for such precious cargo with no husband to help. Of course she would be skittish; it was painfully obvious when they were together that Mellie was both fiercely devoted to Lily and that she was sometimes overwhelmed.

She worked very hard, on her feet all day and lugging around huge trays far too heavy for her slight frame. Then at night she cared for her little girl and rose again the next day to do it all over again.

When did Mellie ever have fun? Had he ever seen her outside the diner?

His plans for tomorrow had been solely focused on racing—to be at the shop early, to stare at printouts until he went blind, to peer over the shoulders of the team as they readied next week’s car and backup.

You need some downtime, son.

Wouldn’t Jimbo be happy to know Bart had just come to the same conclusion? Bart lifted his head and nodded at Sheila, indicating a request that she come to his booth.

“What’s up? Want me to take her?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “That’s not what I wanted to ask.”

Sheila smiled. “You don’t have to whisper. I swear that child could sleep through an earthquake. So what’s on your mind?”

“Could Mellie have the day off tomorrow?”

Her smile widened to a huge grin. “Absolutely. You have plans for her?”

“I do. Jimbo’s going to call my mom if I don’t take some time off, and it occurs to me that I’ve never seen Mellie around town.”

“You’re observant. All the girl does is work and take care of her child.”

“Could Louise still babysit, you think, if I paid her?”

“I’m sure she’d be delighted to.”

“I thought about taking both of them, but—”

“I don’t know if Mellie will leave her, but what she really needs is some time to be an adult and simply play. I’ll throw my weight around to convince her.” Then her eyes narrowed. “What are your plans?”

Bart chuckled. “You look like a mama hen right now.”

“I feel like one when it comes to that girl. Don’t dodge the issue.”

“I was thinking maybe some time on the lake would be relaxing for her. Probably take a picnic.”

“I’ll have a basket ready.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sheila.”

“I want to. Shoot, I’d pay you, too, if it would get that girl out the door for some fun.” She cocked her head. “But something tells me you don’t need bribing to want to spend time with her.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know what it is about her. She’s too young and she runs from me as often as not, but…”

“The heart has a mind of its own, my grandmama always said.”

“It’s not like that, Sheila.” But even he heard the hollowness of his protest.

“Then don’t do it, Bart. Don’t string her along.”

“I just want to be her friend.” He couldn’t even convince himself of that lie, and Sheila’s expression made it clear she wasn’t buying, either. “Okay, maybe I think about more sometimes, but that’s all I’m focusing on now, all right?” He couldn’t explain his family situation so she’d understand that friendship was all he could offer Mellie right now.

“Girl’s got problems enough without having her heart broken, a young girl trying to raise a baby on her own.” She sighed. “But that’s not all, my gut tells me. She’s just so alone, and she won’t confide in me.” Sheila’s eyes took on a gleam. “Maybe she’ll tell you more.”

He didn’t need anyone else leaning on him, but just then Mellie came into view and he knew he couldn’t turn away from her, regardless. “Let’s just start with some fun, Sheila. I’m not a good bet, you know.”

“Oh, pish.” Sheila waved him off. “You are nothing like your father. Look at Will, he’s a family man now and happy as he can be.”

“Sheila…” he warned. “Don’t get carried away. I care about Mellie and want to give her a chance to relax and enjoy herself for a change, that’s all. Will and Zoe have been in love since high school. Me, I’m not getting married, ever. Maybe I should forget this whole idea.”

“Don’t you dare, Bart Branch.” Sheila held up her hands. “I’m sorry. I just want so much to see that girl happy.”

“Just because you’re dead gone on Gil Sizemore, don’t get yourself in the matchmaking business, all right?”

“Gil and I are just—”

He had to arch an eyebrow. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” He was fascinated to see salty Sheila actually blush. “But I’ll leave your love life alone if you’ll do the same.”

“Smart aleck.” Sheila held out a hand to shake but retracted it because Bart’s hands were full. “Okay, deal. Now hand over that baby and I’ll take her upstairs.”

But Lily whimpered as he shifted her. “Why don’t you let me?”

“Louise is off tonight. Someone will have to stay with her.”

“If you’ll bring me the special, I can sit up there as well as down here.”

“Mellie’s pretty protective of her privacy.”

“Louise is up there every day. I swear I won’t touch anything, but go ask Mellie before I do it.”

“If I do, she’ll just worry, and we’re too busy for me to let her off for probably another hour, and I can’t go either.” She gnawed at her lip. “I’m her landlady, right?”

“Right.” But he could see the dilemma. “Why don’t I just hold on to her here? I can eat with one hand.”

“You are just mush over that little girl, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“Okay…one special coming up. On the house.”

“No, Sheila, I’ll pay—”

“I told Mellie I’d help her mind Lily, but we both need to get to work. You’re doing me a favor, so forget about paying. Least I can do.” Then she sailed off before he could argue.

He managed to eat while Lily slept like a rock for another hour, but Mellie kept coming over and asking him if he wouldn’t like to leave. He told her he was fine, but she was so clearly uncomfortable owing him that he finally had a brainstorm and told her there was a way she could pay him back. She visibly relaxed until he refused to explain until Sheila cleared her to quit for the night.

Once she was off work, she presented herself at his table. “I’ll take her.”

“Let me carry her. Don’t want to wake her up.” Without waiting to argue, he rose and strode toward the kitchen and the outside steps that led upstairs to her apartment.

Mellie scampered after him. “What’s the favor?”

“Shh,” he said. “She’s stirring.”

Once upstairs, Mellie skirted around him and hesitated as she opened the door.

“I’m not going to check out your housekeeping, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I don’t care what you think.” She moved through the tiny living room, painfully neat and sparsely furnished, and into a tiny bedroom about the size of his closet. A single bed sat in one corner, and he gratefully deposited the sleeping child. Lily might not weigh all that much for someone his size, but his arm muscles were cramped up from holding her for so long.

He massaged the cramp out of his left bicep and watched while Mellie took off Lily’s shoes and socks and pulled the covers over her, brushing the abundant curls.

“’Night, sweetie,” she said, and kissed Lily’s cheek, but Lily slept on. Then she turned and jolted when she nearly brushed into Bart. “You can go now,” she said quietly.

“What if I don’t want to?” he found himself saying. In the moonlight sifting through the window on one wall, Mellie looked as delicate as a cobweb, a tiny, spike-haired fairy. He reached for her and brushed one thumb across her cheek.

Mellie jumped as though she’d been shot and all but raced out of the room.

When he rejoined her, she stood with arms folded across her midriff, as stiff and straight as a toy soldier, and equally fierce. He had to smile. “What?”

He shook his head. “Why are you so uneasy around me? I’m harmless, you know. Want me to call my mother and have her tell you?” he teased.

A shadow crossed her features. “You’re anything but harmless.”

“What have I ever done to make you so suspicious of me?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…”

“Go on.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then halted. “You’ve had a long day. You should go.”

“You said you’d pay me back.”

Fear blossomed. Fear. “Mellie, are you actually afraid of me? I don’t deserve that, you know.”

Her shoulders sagged. “I know. I do.” She looked away, then back. “I’m sorry. I just—I don’t know what you want.” She lifted dark eyes to his.

Oh, boy. What did he say? Me, neither? He settled on what he’d told Sheila. “I’d like to be your friend.” That much was true—it was the other things that he couldn’t sort out, like the attraction he felt and the urge to protect.

“Really? That’s all?”

Oh, great. What was the right answer? “Probably not all,” he admitted. “But it’s the one part I’m sure of.” He reached for her hand, and when she tried to slip away, he held on. “Couldn’t you use a friend, Mellie?”

“I have Sheila,” she said stubbornly.

“You have lots of people in town who like you, but is there a limit? Do I have to take a number? ‘Line forms to the left. Miss Mellie will make her decisions when she deigns to do so.’”

The foolishness had the corners of her mouth curving. “You make me sound like a snob or something, but you’re the one who—” She stopped.

“Me, a snob? Are you kidding? That’s what you think of me?”

Honest distress rose. “No—I’m sorry, no. But you’re rich and you come from this important family and you’re famous and—”

He blinked. “I’m not any better known than any other driver, if you don’t consider the bastard who calls himself my father.” It was his turn to halt. “Is that it? You know about the scandal and you don’t want to be around me because—”

“No! Of course not!” She laid one small hand on his arm. “I barely know anything about that, anyway, and I couldn’t care less, except that it hurts you.” More than distress darkened her eyes now; actual tears glistened on her thick lashes.

“Then come with me tomorrow.” Shamelessly he used her distress, for her own good. Okay, and because he wanted her to come more than ever.

“What? Where?”

“To the lake. Sheila said you could have the day off, and Louise is going to come—my treat—and take care of Lily. Not that I don’t want Lily around, but you could use some downtime.”

“You talked to Sheila about me? You made arrangements without asking me? And you’re paying Louise?” Outrage poured from her. “You have some nerve. And absolutely no right.”

Boy, could he have mishandled this any worse? “Mellie, look—”

“No. You need to go. Now.” She moved around him to reach the door.

He turned and faced her. “No.”

“No? Look, I don’t know where you get off behaving like the spoiled rich kid you obviously are, but I don’t take orders from you, Bart Branch.”

“Whoa.” He held up his palms. “Look, you’d be doing me a favor, and you said you wanted to pay me back.”

“I didn’t think you’d—”

“Nobody asked you to sell yourself into slavery. I’m exhausted, and it’s affecting my performance on the track. My hauler driver is holding all manner of threats over my head if I don’t take some time off, and my crew chief is in agreement. I could go by myself, but a picnic alone isn’t much fun, and you work really hard, too, so I thought maybe you’d enjoy a day on the lake. Some time to just chill out. You don’t seem to have a chance to do that very often—if ever. And I’d enjoy your company, just two friends hanging out.” He shook his head.

“It wasn’t intended as a mortal insult, but obviously it came across that way, so fine. Consider the invitation retracted.” He gestured toward the doorknob she was currently gripping. “If you’ll move, I’ll go.”

Her entire posture spelled defeat.

“Mellie, I’m sorry, okay? I’m not mad, I just…miscalculated. I don’t really know you, no matter how hard I’ve tried, but I meant no offense.”

Still she looked down. He took a chance and tilted her chin up with one finger. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Mel, I’m sorry. What is it? What can I do?”

At last she spoke. “Friends, really?”

Relief swept through him. “Well, at least to start.” When wariness set in, he shook his head and smiled. “Friends, then. Cross my heart.” He performed the X over his chest. “Friends can go on a picnic, right?”

She studied him with an odd mixture of hope and regret. “They can. And I’m sorry, too. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just…I have a hard time with people doing me favors.”

“No kidding.” He smiled and resisted the urge to kiss her. “Now, you’re right. I’m whacked and I need to hit the hay. Pick you up at nine or are you going to talk yourself out of this by morning?”

A small smile danced on her lips. “I’ll try not to.”

“Good girl.” He settled for leaning over and kissing her cheek. “Good night, friend.”

“Good night, Bart. And thank you.”

“Hey, what’s a favor between friends?” Before he could change his mind and ruin everything by folding her into his arms as he suddenly wanted very badly to do, he slipped through the open door. “Sweet dreams.”

Her answer was faint as he descended the stairs, but he heard it. Sweet dreams to you, too.

He drove home whistling.

CHAPTER FOUR

MELLIE HAD CHANGED CLOTHES three times already, but finally Louise shooed her out the door and downstairs to wait for Bart. Wisely she’d suggested that if Lily caught sight of him, she’d likely get upset when only Mellie departed with him.

I feel so guilty, she thought. Mostly because she so badly wanted to do this. She and Lily had been joined at the hip for a very long time now, well before their mother’s death. Sometimes Mellie couldn’t remember how it was to be simply a teenager whose greatest worry was if a boy she liked would ask her out.

Now here she was—on the back of a motorcycle, no less—zipping down the highway with her arms wrapped around a gorgeous NASCAR driver’s very toned middle. The day was already growing hot, so he had on only a T-shirt. It and the tank top she was wearing provided very little cushion between herself and his broad back and slim hips. She’d tried leaning away, but he’d pointed out that she was upsetting their balance on the bike.

Holy moley…the combination of speed and sun and warm man had her insides jumping. This was probably the worst idea in the world, spending the day with him, but oh, how she could love it if she let herself.

This one day won’t hurt, right? Just friends, that’s all we are, all we can ever be. And because she remembered what he’d said about needing some downtime himself, she forced herself to relax, so she wouldn’t cost him that leisure.

Once she hadn’t been uptight and worried all the time. Once she’d spent hours on her long hair and dreamed of the life she’d create far away from that remote part of Idaho.

Once she’d lived with people who loved her, and she’d never felt alone. Now, loneliness and fear and worry were her constant companions, and only one person loved her.

The bike slowed and made a turn onto a two-lane dirt road. Bart steered it expertly until they reached the lakeshore. He cut the engine and removed his helmet. She did the same and dismounted, looking around her. “Where are we?”

“Not far from Will’s house, where we keep the boat we share.”

She craned her neck. “Is he home?”

Bart grimaced. “Probably, but I hope we don’t see him.”

She did a double take. “Why not? He’s your brother.”

“He is—and he’s nosy. If he sees us, next thing you know he’ll be on the boat with us, probably with all three kids and Zoe.” He chuckled at her dismay. “All of whom I love very much, but I see them all the time. Plus if I’m with Will, we’ll start talking racing, and today is about getting away. With you,” he added.

She bit her lip. “You said just friends.”

He sighed. “Don’t remind me.” He fastened down their helmets, then grasped her hand and led her through a clump of trees. “We’re sneaking over to the dock. Pretend you’re a ninja.”

That startled a giggle out of her, and he turned to face her, his very blue eyes nearly as wide as his smile. “Well, score one for me. I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

“I laugh.”

“Not enough. Mostly you worry. What are you worried about, Miss Mellie?”

More than I can ever tell you. But aloud she said only, “Nothing important.”

He rolled his eyes. “Tell that to someone who hasn’t been watching you for months.”

She gulped. “You…watch me? Why?”

“Because—” and here he trailed one long finger down her cheek “—I care about you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why not?” He insisted on standing so close. Too close, his gaze too observant, his nearness too magnetic, his big body too imposing, too…male.

She stepped back. “It’s just not a good idea, is all. We’re too different. I’m…a mother,” she managed to choke out, though for brief moments she’d actually felt like simply a woman, so very aware of him as a man.

A man to whom she was very tired of fabricating, but what else could she do?

“I care about Lily, too, you know.”

She believed that, but she had to make him stop this line of thinking before she burst into tears and blurted out everything. She took another step, this time to the side, and pointed at a house in the distance. “Is that Will’s? Is that him standing on the deck?”

Bart’s head whipped around. He groaned and grabbed her hand again. “It is. How fast can you run?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Never more,” he said with a wink. “Get a move on!”

THEY MADE IT TO THE DOCK in record time, and before Will could cross the yard, Bart had the anchor lifted and the motor running. By the time Will’s feet had touched the dock, the boat was out of the slip, and Bart was turning it around. “Bye, bro!” He waved, and Will stood on the dock with a big, smart-aleck grin on his face, shaking his head.

There would be consequences. That Bart had sneaked over—never mind that he owned the boat, too, and knew Will had no plans to use it today—would be grounds for a great deal of ribbing.

Plus, of course, inevitable questions about exactly how involved he was with Mellie.

“Will he be mad?” she asked.

Bart grinned. Mad, no. A pain in the behind? Absolutely. “Only that he didn’t get to come play.”

She glanced back, looking thoughtful, but already Will was a speck on the horizon. “I like Will.”

“I do, too, usually. But you know how siblings can be, and a twin is worse.” He caught a sad expression.

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

Her face shut down. “No.”

“Well, sometimes I’d call that damn lucky.”

“You shouldn’t,” she said fiercely. “Family is everything.”

“Actually, I agree—most of the time,” he said darkly, thinking of his father. But he didn’t want to waste a second on Hilton, especially not today. “Where is yours?”

For a second, she seemed so lost and lonely that he wanted to stop the boat right there. Before he could, she turned away. “Is there any water on board? I’m thirsty from the run.”

Hands off. Her message couldn’t be clearer. “Go below. There’s a refrigerator in the galley.”

Slow down, slick. Today is about relaxing.

But he’d never been more aware that dealing with Mellie was a little like taming a wild and frightened animal.

BART HAD QUIT TALKING altogether when she returned with the water, and Mellie had finally been able to let herself sit in the seat beside him and simply…be. The wind whipped through what was left of her hair—the first time she hadn’t mourned the loss of it—and the sun was warm on her shoulders. He’d handed her a tube of sunscreen but otherwise focused only on wherever he was taking them.

When was the last time she’d been able to sit and just do nothing? She might only be twenty, but she felt old in her bones, and very weary. The heat and the drone of the motor combined to make her fight to stay awake, and finally she lost the battle.

She had no idea how much time had elapsed when the lack of engine sounds and the rocking of the boat crept into her consciousness, and she opened her eyes. Bart had a ball cap tipped down over his face, and she thought he might be asleep, as well, from the stillness of his posture. She took advantage of the moment to study him as she’d never been able to do before.

He’d taken off his shirt and placed it behind him on the seat, probably to keep his skin from sticking to it. And oh, there was such a wealth of skin on him, so taut over the bounty of well-formed muscles. Golden hair even lighter than that on his head dusted his forearms and his broad chest, and he had actual washboard abs, what she could see beneath the arms crossed over his midsection.

He had on board shorts and deck shoes, and in between were long, muscled legs. My, but he was one fine specimen of man. He was by no means anything but lean, but he would have made two of her, a big man for a driver, she’d come to realize as she learned about the sport.

One hand twitched, and her gaze was drawn to it. Hands could tell a lot about a person, she’d always thought. His were long-fingered and wide-palmed, scarred here and there, tough and capable yet gentle enough to cradle a little girl in them and make her feel so safe she’d fall asleep in his arms.

There were times when Mellie envied Lily. She’d have liked an embrace to crawl into and rest.

Just then he stirred, and Mellie held her breath.

His head turned to the side. His sleepy smile warmed her—not that she needed any more heating up. The less she looked at Bart Branch, the better off she’d be, she was certain.

“Hi,” he said. “Get a good nap?”

She nodded. “Sorry I drifted off on you.”

He rose and stretched, and those washboard abs were revealed in all their glory, right in front of her face. “Not to worry. You’ll notice I caught a few winks myself.” He smiled. “Feels good. You hungry?”

“Starving.” She’d been too nervous to eat break fast.

“Well, come on down and see if I packed anything you like.”

They shared a laugh when she surveyed the food and realized it had all come from Maudie’s. “Sorry,” he said. “You may be sick of the diner’s food, but I came up with this plan too late to make other provisions. Sheila wanted to help out, thank goodness.”

“The diner’s food is wonderful,” she replied. “I actually don’t get many chances to eat it.”

“I can tell,” he said, scanning her. “You’re too thin.”

She shrugged. “My dad called me Squirt. I was always skinny.”

“Lily’s going to be a lot bigger. Her father must have been tall and big-boned.”

She couldn’t help it—her brain froze. “He was,” she finally managed. And looked a lot like his son, she now realized, though Hal—Hilton, she corrected—was not nearly as handsome. He’d had a certain charisma, though—it had certainly taken in her mother, hook, line and sinker.

“No contact with him? Or do you say was because he’s not living?”

She would trip on all her lies if she wasn’t careful. “He’s out of the picture,” she responded. “So you have a sister and another brother, am I right? How old are they?”

His expression told her that he knew she was dodging, but she couldn’t think about that now. She listened to some stories of Sawyer and Penny, of childhood pranks and the mother who loved them enough to laugh over most of them, but she was deeply relieved when they finished eating and he asked if she wanted to swim.

“Not a believer in the one-hour rule?” she asked.

He grinned. “No, but if you are, we can play it real safe and just hang out under the canopy.”

It was the next thing to a dare, and once Mellie had been a daredevil—so long ago, she’d nearly forgotten how. Besides, though she loved hearing about his family, she feared more questions from him about her own. “A man who drives inches from the wall at high speeds taking the cautious route? I can’t be responsible for ruining you as a driver. Race you up top.” She sprinted for the deck, surprised at how liberating it felt to do something impulsive.

She even managed to strip down to her bikini without letting herself quail at what he’d think of her too-skinny frame. Just friends, right? Pals didn’t care that she barely had any curves and he was a Greek god.

Sure thing, Amelia. Then she closed her eyes at the mental lapse. Mellie. She hadn’t made that mistake in months, but somehow Bart made her want to be herself.

Didn’t matter, though. Mellie, that’s who she was now. Who she’d be forever, if she didn’t find Hilton Branch and figure out something about Lily.

But that was too much to think about when there was cool water waiting. She dragged her gaze from the gorgeous man beside her and dived over the side.

When she emerged, she saw Bart make a clean arc over the water and spear in like an arrow with barely a splash. It figured that he’d do that well, too. What could the man not excel at?

He stayed underwater long enough that she was starting to worry when suddenly she felt a hand on her leg, dragging her under.

Just as quickly, he braced one hand on her waist and wrapped the other around her thigh, shooting her up to the surface, then following her with a wicked grin.

She splashed him straight in the face, and the battle began.

SO MISS MELLIE WAS FEISTY, was she? When they paused in the water fight, both dripping and grinning, he couldn’t help but notice that years seemed to have sloughed from her shoulders. She always looked young—and was, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know just how young—but right now, she was like a kid.

When she reared back to splash him again, he grinned and dived under. Though she kicked and tried to dodge, he captured her and rose to the surface, their legs tangling as they treaded water.

In the bright sun, her brown eyes were caramel, and he noticed for the first time a tiny trail of freckles on her nose. Impulsively, he bent and kissed her. He meant it to be light and friendly, but when her lips parted, he dived in, bodies brushing, the kiss going on and on—

Until they started sinking.

They broke apart, and she surfaced a few feet away, her eyes like saucers, her cheeks blooming rose. She didn’t speak but only stared at him.

“If you expect me to say I’m sorry, I’m not,” he said. “You may look like you’re fifteen, but you’re one hell of a kisser, Miss Mellie.”

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

“I disagree.” He swam to her. “It won’t be the last.”

“Bart, we shouldn’t—”

“Sugar, I’ve spent most of my life doing things I shouldn’t. I regret very few of them. And if you tell me you didn’t like that kiss, I’m afraid I’ll have to call you a liar.”

She looked stricken.

“Just teasing, honey. If you honestly didn’t like it, just say so, and I’ll leave you alone. Is that what you want?”

“Yes…no…I don’t know.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Come here.” He slid an arm around her and swam with her to the ladder, then looped his free arm around one rung. “I don’t get it. I’m not a bad man. A lot of people like me. You could like me, too, Miss Mellie, if you’d just give me a chance.”

“I like you,” she said shyly.

“Then let me kiss you again when we don’t have to worry about drowning.”

“We’re still in the water.”

“I’ve got you.” He pulled her against him. “I’m not letting go.” And even as he began to accept that he might mean that for longer than the next few minutes, he dipped his head and began to taste her mouth, to explore her. Her body was slim, yes, not the usual armful of curves he’d thought he preferred, but her curves were delicate and fragile and though they made him worry that he was too big, he also knew that there was a core of pure steel to this woman who was so reluctant to trust him or anyone else.

Then her arms came around his neck, and she wriggled against him.

Bart quit thinking altogether and focused on the woman so alive and eager in his arms, savoring her sweetness, the honesty of her passion. He was about to lose his head completely when a remnant of his conscience refused to let him take her flying too high.

We shouldn’t have done that, she’d protested. Mellie didn’t really trust him. She thought he would take his pleasure and leave for the next woman. When her head cleared, how would she feel if he let this go too far?

He was in no position to make anyone promises, certainly not a lifetime’s worth, and though there was much he didn’t know about Mellie Donovan, he would bet everything he owned that she was a forever kind of girl.

He had a championship to win; he had to stay on course. There were threats to his family; he couldn’t allow pleasure, however sweet, make him forget that he had to protect them. His father had let everyone in his life down, and Bart would spend his own life proving he was nothing at all like his worthless dad.

So, much as he wanted to lean back into her, to seize her mouth again and so much more, he separated himself slowly from the treasure in his arms.

When Mellie’s eyes opened, they were blurred by passion, her lips ruby-red from his kisses. It was all he could do to leave her.

But he had to. “It’s getting late. We’d better head back.” He shoved away from the ladder and gestured for her to precede him.

Her eyes cleared, and hurt crossed her features.

He couldn’t let it end like this. “I’m trying to do the right thing, but if you think we’re done, you’ve got another think coming.”

She didn’t look back as she ascended and hastened to cover herself and that sweet baby-blue bikini that had his fingers itching to roam her flesh.

Bart sighed and cursed fate and worthless fathers and lousy timing.

IT WAS CRAZY. SHE WAS CRAZY. It was wrong to have yielded to impulse, yet as the boat raced back over the water, all Mellie could think about was Bart and how those fevered kisses made her feel.

Glorious. Sexy. Powerful to make such a strong man go half-crazy himself.

Too bad he had the control to stop when I wasn’t sure I did.

Her mother would have been scandalized by how unashamed Mellie felt right now. You are too young to be falling in love. Her mother had been fervent on the topic because she herself had married Mellie’s father at nineteen and she wanted Mellie to see the world, to have every possible choice she could give her.

But you loved Daddy, Mama. You were happy together, I remember that.

And she wasn’t falling in love; she was only…

Mellie shifted on her seat so she couldn’t see Bart and instead thought about the innocent baby sister waiting for her, as innocent as Mellie herself once had been, before her father died and her mother got so lonely that an unprincipled man could take advantage of her.

I can’t do this, can’t have this. Bart was a good man, and he didn’t deserve having to deal with all the problems she brought with her. He’d already suffered enough from his father’s actions.

One lonely tear rolled down her cheek, and Mellie tried very hard to forget the bliss she’d tasted so briefly, the fun they’d shared. She would never forget this day, though—Bart’s smile, his tender touch, how he made her laugh and made her burn…

“Oh, man. We’re busted.”

Her head whipped toward him. “What?” Then she glanced ahead as the dock came into view. On it stood not only Will but Zoe, slowly disentangling from an embrace and watching them arrive.

Bart looked at her. “We won’t get away without going up to the house. I’m sorry.” He frowned slightly. “I wonder where the kids are—oh, man. I forgot.” He glanced over. “My mom was coming in early for the Charlotte race. She and Chuck are probably already here and knee-deep in grandkids. And you can bet your bottom dollar that my brother, Loose Lips, has told them I’m out here. Can you handle meeting more of my family?”

More of the family whose lives would be upset by finding out about an illegitimate baby? More people to whom she would have to lie? Mellie closed her eyes and wished herself anywhere but here.

“They’re good people. I swear they won’t bite.”

Bart sounded as if he really cared what she thought. He wasn’t to blame for her problems; none of them were. So Mellie took a deep breath. “I need to return to Lily soon.”

“I’ll get us out of here as quickly as possible, I promise.”

He seemed honestly worried about her reaction, so Mellie forced herself past her fears and guilt and nodded. “Ready if you are.”

Relief chased over his features. “It’ll be painless for you, I promise. They’ll save the inquisition for me later.” But only love and genuine fondness was in his tone.

He guided the boat into the dock and cut the engine.

BART WATCHED AS HIS FAMILY worked their magic on Mellie, bringing her out of her shell and into the fold. He’d been right to compare her to a wild and frightened animal—if only he knew what she was frightened of. What had happened in her marriage, or had she actually been married? Had she been left an unwed mother instead? Given her youth, that seemed entirely possible. Had she run away from home? Where was her family and what were the circumstances that kept her so alone?

“Your brain is clicking so loudly I can barely hear,” teased his sister-in-law Zoe. “What’s going on?” When he continued to stare across the room where his mother, Maeve, was holding Will’s male twin, Micah, and Sam was earnestly demonstrating a handheld video game to both Maeve and Mellie, she nodded her head. “Will’s right.”

“Will’s never right.” Bart dragged his attention away from the woman he shouldn’t be thinking about. “About what?”

“That girl’s got a hold on you.”

Bart sighed. “Girl is right. She’s too young for me. And she’s not my type.”

“Funny how none of that matters when the heart gets involved.”

He rolled his eyes. “Zo, not everyone’s intended for the ivy-covered cottage.”

“There’s not a speck of ivy in our yard.”

“You know what I mean. You and Will are the exception.”

One slender eyebrow arched. “Oh, really? Funny that Chuck still acts like he and your mom are on a honeymoon two years later.” The man in question was sitting right beside Maeve with an arm around her, and his mom had never looked happier. “Penny and Craig went through a rough spot, yes, but they’re solid, and Sawyer and Lucy are stupid in love. It took Will and me ten years to find each other again, but—” She turned to him. “Your family’s not doomed because of your father’s character flaws. They’re not genetic, Bart.”

He adored Zoe, too much to argue with her over this. “I’ve got the championship to deal with. I can’t afford the distraction.”

“Will didn’t think he could afford to get sidetracked by Sam and me, either. But love doesn’t weaken you, it strengthens you.”

“Whoa there. Nobody’s talking about love. I just…” He shrugged. “I like her. I…worry about her. She’s so alone.”

“Not right now,” Zoe pointed out. “She’s surrounded by Branches.”

And she seemed happy. Rosy-cheeked and smiling, even laughing at the antics of Will’s twins and his brother’s good-natured teasing. She’d stuck like glue to his mom ever since she’d met her, and Maeve’s magic seemed to satisfy a hunger in Mellie. She didn’t look pinched or exhausted or scared, for a change.

“Do you think she’s been abused?” he asked Zoe, who understood exactly how that felt. Zoe’s first husband hadn’t struck her, but he’d emotionally bruised her. At the very notion that someone might have done so to Mellie, Bart truly understood for the first time how enraged Will had been when he’d uncovered what his so-called friend had done to the woman Will loved. If Tanner hadn’t already been dead, who knows what Will would have done.

“I don’t know…maybe.” Zoe studied her. “Asking her straight-out wouldn’t necessarily tell us anything. It’s not easy to explain, but when someone’s doing that to you, shame is the first thing you feel besides the fear. You don’t want to discuss it.”

Bart went ramrod stiff, driven to go to Mellie, to provide the protection she didn’t need here in his brother’s home, surrounded by his loving family.

Zoe laid a hand on his arm. “Just be there, Bart. When she’s ready, she’ll talk to you.”

“That’ll be the day. She’s got a shell a mile thick, and she’s damned touchy about anyone trying to break through it.”

“But they are making a dent.” Zoe nodded toward the rest of their family, then looked at him. “And so are you. If it makes you feel any better, though, I’ll see to it that I drop in at Maudie’s more often and let her know she has a friend.”

Bart slung an arm around his sister-in-law’s slender shoulders and hugged her to him. “You know, Zo, that if you ever get tired of my worthless brother, I’m the smart twin.”

She grinned and laid her head on his shoulder. “Stronger, too, right? Better at most everything?”

“Goes without saying.”

“Hmm. Wonder where I’ve heard all that before?” She was staring across the room at Will, who was cradling their daughter, Malia, and nuzzling her neck with his nose, making her giggle. As if he sensed her observation, Will glanced up and his eyes went both hot and tender at his wife.

“Yeah, but the difference is that Will’s prone to exaggeration,” Bart said, and placed a kiss to her hair.

“You’re the best, Zoe. Thank you.”

When he made as if to leave, Zoe stopped him. “Thank you,” she said quietly, “for keeping Will out of the search for Hilton’s other family. Is there any news?”

“Not really. Jake’s working hard, but so far he’s found nothing about the girls’ whereabouts, though he’s uncovered a lot about Biscayne Bay. Those guys are a piece of work.”

“Will’s not happy about you handling this by yourself, but I really do appreciate everything you’re doing.”

Bart shrugged. “Only makes sense. Will’s got too much to lose if things get out of hand.”

She pressed one palm to his cheek. “We all have too much to lose if you get in harm’s way. Please be careful.”

“My middle name.”

“Oh, yeah. Mr. Cautious, that’s you.” Zoe was chuckling as Bart strolled off to join Mellie.

“YOUR FAMILY IS WONDERFUL,” Mellie said after they left.

Bart turned and paused before donning his helmet. “You can borrow them anytime. They like you.”

He had no idea how much she wished she could. Mellie resisted the slide into self-pity because her life was too impossibly complicated, and she would never be able to take him up on that offer.

But Lily could. All Mellie had to do was tell Bart the truth, and Lily could be snuggled into the bosom of that loving family.

And Mellie would be free to be young again instead of a thousand years old.

Tears she couldn’t completely explain burned her eyes, and she turned away, quickly sliding onto the motorcycle seat and hiding inside her helmet. Was it Lily she cried for or herself? Both, probably. If Mellie uttered the words so close to spilling from her lips, she knew there was a really good chance this generous family would take her sister to their hearts and not blame Lily for being fresh evidence of Hilton’s betrayals.

But the price would be more heartache for all of them—and more scandal. And they would surely hate her for being the person who brought all that down upon them.

No, her choices were still slim to none. She didn’t have the money to travel to Texas to confront Hilton Branch, and she wouldn’t be part of hurting such a kind group of people. Now there was more than Bart to consider—and truthfully, the less she thought about Bart Branch, the better.

Today had been heavenly, but it couldn’t happen again. It was her bad luck that he’d be around town most of the next several days, with the next race to be held in Charlotte and the one after that only in Martinsville.

Bart was scrutinizing her too closely, and she held her breath that he’d stop asking questions she couldn’t answer. At last he thought better of it, put on his own helmet and started the bike’s powerful engine. They took off, and she was forced to grab on to him yet again.

And if her traitorous body wished he’d left off his shirt, that she didn’t have to wear a big helmet, that she could afford to plaster herself against him, snuggle close and never let go…

Well, the past couple of years had taught Mellie not to waste time on wishes that could never come true.

CHAPTER FIVE

BART, HOWEVER, WASN’T inclined to grant Mellie the distance she so obviously thought she should keep. Instead, at every opportunity over the next few days, he was at the diner or dropping by at night to take her and Lily to get ice cream or, if he was tied up too late at the shop, calling her to tell her what had happened that day.

Yes, he was working and working hard. What he wasn’t doing was wasting time with his buddies. Whatever spare moments he could scrape together, he was carving away at the distance she kept trying to put between them.

Bit by bit, Mellie’s resolve was weakening.

Now he was about to win the fifth race of the championship run, and Mellie was there to see it. As the white flag dropped and Bart focused on his last lap, with only Will even close behind him, he knew he’d never raced better and she was the reason why.

Never mind that she’d tried her hardest to refuse the pass and ticket he’d given her, that she’d spent the past few days attempting to talk him out of it, either on the phone or when he was grabbing yet another meal at Maudie’s just so he could catch her for a minute here and there. He’d stolen more than one kiss as she ducked into the kitchen, and she still blushed furiously every time, while protesting that he was going to cost her a job she needed.

But telling her to quit and let him take care of her brought down her ire like nothing he’d ever seen—except maybe Sheila threatening to bar him from the premises if he ever again tried to rob her of her best employee.

Next week he’d be on the road again and for the rest of the season, and he wanted Mellie with him. She was still clinging to the pretense that they weren’t seriously involved, but once this season was over, he could spend all his time showing her how wrong she was.

She was kidding herself, for whatever reason. She was still maddeningly closemouthed about her past and her plans for her future.

But that was okay. They had plenty of time to share their stories and to see what was ahead. Bart Branch didn’t give up—ever, not on something he really wanted.

And for whatever reason, that something was increasingly Mellie. His absorption with her could too easily overtake his focus on the championship, he knew that, but he wouldn’t let it. He’d begun racing to make his dad proud, even before he’d cared for his own sake. He’d wanted to beat his brother at everything they tried, and after his father’s stunning desertion of the family, he’d wanted to give his mother a reason to smile again. He raced for pride and accomplishment and to be the best—but now he really wanted Mellie and Lily to stand beside him as he held a championship trophy.

He crossed the finish line as the checkered flag dropped, and he was one step closer to that ultimate victory.

However hard he’d pushed, though, she’d dug in her heels over meeting him in Victory Lane, but he would see her after and he would talk her into letting him fly her to the next race. If not that race, the one after. Everyone who knew him knew he was relentless when it was important.

Bart grabbed the checkered flag and began his burnout.

You can run, Miss Mellie, but you can’t hide forever from what’s between us.

IT WAS A CONSPIRACY, Mellie decided. If it wasn’t Louise insisting that she and Al needed Lily overnight because their house was too quiet after raising five kids, it was Sheila taking Mellie shopping for a new outfit that she called a performance bonus for her best employee. At the track, Maeve and Chuck had escorted her to seats in the stands where they insisted the only true racing experience was to be obtained, and after the race, they’d brought her as close to Victory Lane as they could nudge her, so she could watch Bart accept his ovation. Then afterward, while he was tied up in the postrace press conference, they’d taken her to his team’s hauler and showed her around.

She’d tried to back out repeatedly because every step deeper into Bart’s world only had the potential to hurt him, but they were like a stealth army—before she knew it, she was knee-deep in the NASCAR experience.

Then she felt him even before she heard his voice.

“Hey, Mom, Chuck. Thanks for keeping Mellie company.”

She turned, and there he was in his uniform, the top unzipped and left hanging at the waist while a sweat-soaked T-shirt beneath clung to every ripple of muscle. His golden hair bore evidence of finger raking, and he looked like an exhausted but triumphant warrior at battle’s end.

“Sweetheart, we enjoyed every minute. Oh, I am so proud of you.” Maeve went to her son and embraced him, then Chuck did the same with a hearty backslap. Bart beamed, and the three of them went over some of the race highlights, talking over each other in the rush of excitement.

But again and again, Bart’s gaze returned to her.

And Mellie, though she said not one word, never once removed her eyes from him.

Very soon, Maeve and Chuck reacted to the sizzling atmosphere. “We need to go, son,” Chuck said, gently drawing Maeve to his side.

“We’ll see you for lunch tomorrow?” Maeve asked, then turned. “Mellie, I hope you’ll join us.” She approached Mellie, still frozen in place, and drew her close, kissing one cheek. “You’re good for him, sweetheart,” she whispered in Mellie’s ear.

Mellie blinked, but before she could respond, the couple was out the hauler door.

Bart and Mellie were alone.

Say something. She roused herself from the spell. “You were amazing to watch.”

“Yeah?” A delighted grin.

“But you scared me to death. Those cars are only inches from each other, Bart. How you keep from crashing all the time, I have no idea.”

“Years of practice. We’re all professionals, and the cars are built to be safer all the time.”

“Yes, but—” Then the memories poured out. “It was incredible, the spectacle, the noise, the buzz you could feel running through the whole crowd—”

His grin widened. “Did we make a fan of you?”

She had to smile back. “After all these months when I’ve listened to people talk about racing day in and day out and watched on TV at the diner, still I had no idea what the big deal was, but—wow. The answer is yes. It’s an amazing sport, so different from—” She halted herself, pressed her lips together hard. She’d been raised around hunters and fishermen.

“Different from what?” He took a step toward her.

She backed up one pace. “Just…not like any other sport I’ve ever watched.”

He took another step. “I wanted you in Victory Lane. I wanted you beside me when all those cameras were flashing.”

She backed up. “That wouldn’t be right. I had nothing to do with your win.” One more step, and her back was against the wall.

“Oh, I beg to disagree, Miss Mellie.” He closed the gap between them and trailed one finger down her cheek, pausing at the corner of her mouth. She could swear her skin sizzled. “I wanted to win already, but knowing you were watching…I was determined to win for you.” That finger tilted up her chin, and he bent to her, slicking his tongue over her bottom lip. When she uttered a breathy little gasp, he smiled. “So give me my congratulations kiss, would you?”

He hesitated, hovering over her mouth, the nearness of him giving her shivers. “Bart, we—” Shouldn’t. True, but she was sick of saying it, and was she going to spoil his triumphant night? “Never mind.” With a boldness that surprised her, she rose to tiptoe and kissed him.

Instantly he locked her body against his, and she felt the press of every glorious muscle in that broad and gorgeous chest. She deepened the kiss, and his response was electric. Her own body softened and molded itself to his, and she was halfway to losing her mind—

The hauler door opened. “Oops! Sorry, Bart.”

Bart broke away, sighed and rested his forehead against hers. “No problem, chief.”

But he didn’t let go. “Honey, they need to finish packing up. It’s a miracle we didn’t get interrupted before,” he said quietly.

“I…I’d better go anyway.”

“Uh-uh.” He drew back a fraction. “I happen to know you have no transportation and that Lily is taken care of for the night. Normally I’d shower and change at the track, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. Come with me to my place, Mellie. Please?”

Please. The way he said it was both humble and genuine. She knew him to be the kind of true gentleman who might nudge but would never force her. He’d just done something extraordinary, and he wanted her to celebrate with him.

Inwardly, she quivered, knowing what that would mean.

They would become lovers.

She wanted it as much as she feared it.

Bart—and a whole team she could suddenly hear bustling outside—waited.

Nerves battled with longing.

“All right.”

“Yesss!” Bart picked her up and whirled her even in the closely confined quarters. “You won’t regret it, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

She was almost positive she would.

But she was so tired of being cautious and frightened.

Just this one night, she would let herself be carefree.

THE RIDE IN BART’S BIG PICKUP strained Mellie’s nerves almost past bearing. The chasm between their two stations loomed huge, to say nothing of all the other reasons why she shouldn’t be with him.

Then he reached across the console and took her hand in his big, warm one.

She glanced over and caught his smile, not one of triumph, not one that leered but instead was kind and reassuring. His fingers squeezed hers lightly, and something within her eased a little.

Enough to squeeze back.

“You can always say no, Mellie. I want you, yes, but I want to spend time with you, too.”

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it abruptly.

“What?”

You have to tell him. “You’ve had a million women. I…I’m not very experienced.”

His head whipped around. “But you have a child.”

Her lies kept tripping her up. She could either tell him the full truth or lie again.

If only she knew which would hurt him worse.

“Mellie?”

She stared straight out the windshield but withdrew her hand from his. “I…I was only with…the father…with—” She stumbled over the fabrication. “Once. One time.” She bent her head and a tear dropped on her clasped hands. I hate this.

But I care so much about him.

What was she doing? How many more lies before she was completely buried beneath them? She’d never been with a man, and her first time would be a sham?

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

He drove in silence for what felt like hours while Mellie huddled in frozen agony over the mess she’d made of what should have been Bart’s triumphant night.

Then he pulled into the parking lot of Freedom Park and shut off the engine. She was afraid to look even when the interior light flashed on as he opened his door. He had to be furious, and though she didn’t think he would ever harm her physically, she was so lost in her own misery that she grabbed her own door handle and prepared to run.

But he was already there.

“I ruined your night. Can’t you see that this will never work?” she cried out.

But Bart only said, “Take it easy, honey.” He was so much bigger that he easily plucked her from the passenger side and set her on the ground in front of him.

She kept her head down, ashamed and frantic. “I’m sorry. I…I’ll call a cab.” If she had enough money.

“How about a walk instead?” he said gently.

She looked up. “A walk?”

“Mellie, I’m not an ogre. You’re not ready. All you had to do was say so.” He drew her close and even though the night had cooled down very little, she huddled into his warmth. “I said I wanted to spend time with you.”

“But you—” She cleared her throat. “You kissed me.”

“I did.” He leaned back and made her look at him.

“I liked it. A lot.”

“And you…you wanted to take me home. You were—” She bit her lip.

“Hot for you?” He grinned. “You better believe it. Still am.”

“But…but guys always want…”

He sighed. “I do want you, Mellie. You’re too young for me, and you’re ten kinds of complicated, but none of that seems to matter. I care about you. Yes, I have a lot more experience—but not millions, mind you.” He grinned again. “I’d never have had time to learn to drive if that were true.”

From somewhere she found a smile.

“That’s my girl.” He drew her close again. “Relax, sweetheart. We’ve got time. One thing my millions of experiences have taught me—” she heard his teasing note “—is to take my time with a woman I really want to please.”

She looked up. “You want to please me?”

His eyes went hot. “I do. And I will. You can take that to the bank.” He lowered his head and proceeded to demonstrate just how well he could please her.

Mellie was falling under his spell again, returning his kisses with greater abandon, her heart suddenly light and her future full of promise—

He ended a kiss and shifted her to his side. “Now for that walk. Before I lose my head completely.”

“Walk?” she echoed, her own head already lost.

“Walk,” he said firmly. And took the first step, her hand tucked in his grip.

A bewildered Mellie quickly caught up.

CHAPTER SIX

SON, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. Bart stared at the handwritten note that had been waiting for him when he arrived for the Texas race.

Then he crumpled it and tossed it in a trash can as he left the garage area.

“I needed a lot of things from you,” he muttered to the father incarcerated less than a two-hour drive from Dallas. “But you cared more about yourself than the rest of us.”

“Talking to yourself?” his twin asked, catching up with him. “Not a good sign.” When Bart didn’t respond to his teasing, Will stepped in front of him. “Let it go, Bart. He’s not worth it.” At Bart’s raised eyebrow, he nodded. “Not too hard to figure what or, more accurately, who is on your mind.” He glanced around them at the speedway they’d visited so many times even before getting a chance to race there. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

“Not good ones.” Their father had been the one to bring them, back in the days when his chest puffed with pride over his boys.

Before he pulled the rug out from under the whole family and demonstrated that all that so-called fatherly concern was merely a pack of lies.

“Forget him, Bart. Put him completely out of your mind. You’ve got to be on your A game today.”

“Boy, that’s no lie.” Bart was tempted to bare his soul to his brother about how low his confidence was in the wake of the wreck that cost him thirty laps of the race at Martinsville two weeks before—and nearly knocked him out of contention for the championship altogether.

“You made up ground at Talladega. You can still win this.”

“It’ll take a miracle.”

“A win today would change all that.”

“Depending on how Garrett Clark and Rafael O’Bryan finish.” His two top competitors could shut him completely out with a win by Clark or a top five by O’Bryan, who was currently leading in points, with the other man right behind him.

“Dude.” Will punched him in the shoulder. “Get a grip. This is not like you. You’re always in control.”

He’d never felt less so. The only thing in his life that was going right at the moment was Mellie, but even that was a high-wire act. After the Charlotte race, he’d seen very little of her, but they’d begun talking most every night, sometimes for an hour or more. She was still ready to bolt if he pushed her too hard, but with every conversation, they drew closer. He had no idea, however, if she’d ever be ready to commit to a long-term relationship with him.

Which, he reminded himself, was just as well. Even if he could pull off this championship run—which seemed highly doubtful right now—there was still the whole matter of his father to be dealt with. And only the merest of tips from Jake, that the girls had been spotted in Tennessee months ago—though it wasn’t because Jake wasn’t looking.

“Hey.” Will snapped his fingers in front of Bart’s face. “Stop thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“Whatever’s putting that scowl on your face. Get your head in the game. You know better than to let yourself be distracted right before a race. I want you to rub your success in the old man’s face. You get in that car and run the race of your life and know you’re doing it for the whole family, that you’re showing that jerk that we don’t need him, that we’re all fine without him. You can do it, damn it. You know it and I know it. You’re as good a driver as anyone who’ll be on that track today, so clear out everything else—everything, even that SOB who never deserved us—and go win the race. Or I will personally beat your ass to a pulp afterward. Got that?”

“You and what army?”

Will grinned. “That’s the spirit. Go get ’em, bro. You’re not the best driver in the family, but you’ll have to do.”

Bart grinned back, the dark clouds lifted by his twin’s verbal jabs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Will punched him in the shoulder again, then headed for his pit stall.

Bart shook his head and turned toward his own car, smiling.

MELLIE HAD VOLUNTEERED to work because Sheila had agreed to go to Texas with Gil Sizemore. Mellie was in charge of the diner but she was so nervous about how Bart would finish that she was next to worthless, one eye always on the television propped up high above the counter.

Fortunately, the diner wasn’t busy. Most of its clientele was either on the road or watching the race, leaving Mellie and Al as practically the only ones there.

Be safe, be safe, be safe, she chanted. I know you’re desperate to win, but don’t do anything foolish.

Bart was a big teaser and a lot of fun, but foolish he’d never been. Still, he’d been wound tight as a top when they’d spoken last night. Somehow he seemed to need to prove something to the father he despised, and this race was make or break for him in his hunt for the championship.

She glanced at the television yet again and bit back a scream. Bart was down low on the track; another driver just ahead had gotten loose and hit a third car that was spinning right toward him. She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands in prayer, barely able to keep her eyes open for fear of what she’d see.

Somehow he made it through the melee and charged ahead. Mellie’s knees went weak. She grabbed the back of a booth.

“Close call,” Al said. “Look, why don’t you just sit down and watch? We’re not that crowded.”

Mellie gripped her order pad in white-knuckled fingers. “I need to stay busy.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Okay, then go on over there and start filling saltshakers.” He led Mellie to the far end of the bar where she could easily view the TV. “Only twenty laps to go until you can breathe again.”

“He could still win, right?” However hard she’d studied, Mellie still wasn’t sure she understood the nuances of the sport.

“He could, and however much that’s going to upset Gil and Sheila if Bart does pull it off and beats Rafael, I’m rooting for him, too. Just don’t tell Sheila.” Al grinned at her, then glanced at the TV. “Holy—did you see that?”

Mellie’s gaze jumped back to the screen just in time to see a replay of Bart making an amazing pass to put his car just behind the leader. “Please, please, please…” she murmured.

“Six laps to go,” Al said.

He remained beside her, their gazes locked on the television. Mellie barely dared to breathe for the next several minutes as Bart tried once and then again to get around the leader, but every time he was blocked.

Then, on the last lap, he slid coming out of Turn Four and nearly lost control. Mellie would swear her heart stopped as she watched. Go, Bart, go. The odds against him looked insurmountable, but he just kept digging.

Then, within sight of the finish line, he executed a daring slingshot move—

And sailed over the finish line barely a bumper in the lead.

Mellie screamed and Al yelled. Saltshakers went tumbling. “He did it!”

Al picked her up and danced her around, neither caring about the mess they created.

A little while later, the phone rang. “For you,” Al called from the kitchen.

Mellie’s heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, girl.” Only Sheila.

“Hey.”

“Your heart settled down yet?”

Mellie patted her chest. “I don’t know. He scared me to death.”

“Well, I will tell you Gil is not exactly thrilled.”

“I can imagine.”

“But even he admits that was one amazing win.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Mellie asked.

“And I kissed him and made it all better.”

Mellie laughed. “It’s getting really serious between you two, isn’t it?”

“It’s crazy. He’s a blue blood and I’m all mongrel. We have absolutely nothing in common.”

Mellie found herself smiling. Sheila’s protest was a common refrain. “Yet somehow you manage to pass a lot of time together. Maybe it’s the sex.”

“Why, Mellie, what would a little nun like yourself know about that?” Her grin was in her voice.

“I’m not a nun.”

“Well, a wild and crazy woman you most certainly are not. Not that it wouldn’t be good for you.” Sheila paused. “Tell you what, I’m giving you the night off tomorrow night, so you can extend Bart a much-deserved hero’s welcome home. My bet is he’ll spend tonight in Dallas with his family and fly back tomorrow.”

As a matter of fact, Bart had told her that was exactly his plan. “But Lily—”

“You know Louise will take her anytime, and if she can’t, I will.”

“I don’t know…” She wanted to, desperately, but she was equally worried that she’d be doing the wrong thing by Bart.

“No waffling, girl. The man is gorgeous, and you are gone over him, admit it.”

“But—”

“No buts, kiddo.”

“Sheila…”

“Gotta go, girl. See you in a few hours!”

Mellie stood there, holding a phone with only a dial tone.

LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON, Bart glanced out the window of the plane he and Will shared, noting how many trees had already shed their leaves compared to those in Texas. The season would be over in two more weeks, and winter was coming. He would very much like to be sitting in front of a fireplace by then, with Mellie curled in his arms.

A few weeks ago, that prospect had seemed very distant, but now, perhaps he was making progress in wooing her.

He wanted to see her. Their nightly talks had brought them ever closer, but he needed to be physically close, too, wanted to touch her. Craved to make her his own with a fierceness different from how he’d felt about anyone else.

He was becoming impatient with her constant retreats. She couldn’t keep toying with him.

That’s not fair, a better part of him protested. Whatever is holding her back, she’s not playing around.

But how much clearer could he make it that he cared? She should trust him, damn it. Hadn’t he proven himself worthy of that? He’d never had to work so blasted hard for a woman.

The plane rolled to a stop on the tarmac, but Bart remained in his seat as his companions departed. Will, Zoe and the kids had remained in Texas for another two days. The plane would stop there to pick Will up for the flight to Phoenix on Thursday.

Bart heard all the preparations for shutting down being made, but still he didn’t move. Mellie had to work tonight, and for whatever reason, his spirits, so jubilant since the win, were sinking.

“Bart?”

The familiar yet out-of-place voice had him looking up, then blinking. “Mellie? What are you doing here?”

Her smile faltered. “I…is it not okay? I…they told me I could—”

He rose from his seat. She was so tiny, she made him feel like a fumbling giant. “No, of course it’s fine, it’s just…I thought you were working.”

“Sheila gave me the night off so I could see you,” she said shyly. Her face brightened. “Congratulations! That was an amazing win. I could swear my heart stopped there at the end, and then we were screaming and dancing and—” She stopped. “Well.” Stepped back.

“Anyway, I just wanted to… I should go.” She turned away.

He grabbed her elbow. “Sorry I couldn’t talk to you last night. By the time I was able to leave the track, it was really late Eastern time, and I thought you had to work today.”

“I understand.”

“No,” he said fiercely. “You don’t.” He closed the distance. “I wanted you there, Mellie. I wanted to twirl you in a circle and hand you the trophy and put the winner’s cowboy hat on your head. I needed to hear you tell me you were proud of me.”

“I was. I am.” Her eyes went wide.

“Then give me my victory kiss.”

“But—” She glanced back toward the cockpit. “Here?”

He couldn’t explain why he wasn’t willing to keep dragging his feet for fear of frightening her. It was time to stake his claim. He was sick of tiptoeing around whatever kept holding her back.

“Here. Now.” But he didn’t initiate the kiss, for a change. She had to decide on her own.

She stared up at him and gnawed on her lower lip.

All the initial pleasure at seeing her began to drain away as she hesitated. “Never mind.” He released his grip on her elbow, ready to turn and grab his bag.

The touch of her hand on his arm stopped him. Slowly he looked back.

“I had a surprise for you,” she said quietly, those huge dark eyes studying him. “I wanted to cook you dinner, and then…” She rose to her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “I—” For a second she faltered, then murmured, “I, um…I thought I might spend the night.”

Bart’s stunned gaze locked on hers. He might not know everything he wanted to about her, but he understood enough to know how enormous a step this represented for her. He took her face in his hands. “That would be the best celebration I could imagine.” He could feel her frame tremble and slid his hands down to clasp hers. “But you don’t have to do this, Mellie, if you’re not ready.”

Her eyes glistened with tears she was fighting not to shed. “I want to be,” she said so softly he could barely hear. Then her spine stiffened, and her voice firmed. “I want to be with you, Bart, I do. I’m just…scared.”

Scared, yes, but he’d always sensed that the fragile frame housed the heart of a lion. “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart.” He lowered his head and kissed her softly. “I swear it.”

At last, she slid her arms up around his neck and slipped her fingers into his hair as she rose again to tiptoe, pressing her dainty body all along the length of his. “I believe you.” She answered his kiss with one that spoke of a heart’s deep longing, a kiss that was both sweet and tempting, a surrender that quickly ratcheted up to demand.

Bart lost himself in kissing her back, in opening up a heart that had forever held itself apart from the women with whom he played and flirted, danced and frolicked.

This was not a playful kiss. This one was serious and unnerving to him, as well. Love was nothing he’d ever counted on, never desired for himself. Love made you stupid, made you rash and kept you from protecting yourself—witness what his mother had suffered because she’d given her all in the name of a love that hadn’t been returned.

But here was Mellie, so sweet, so vulnerable, so open in this moment of terrible beauty and aching vulnerability.

Maybe love did make you defenseless, but if this small woman, so tender and breakable, could open herself to him, could he do any less in return?

So Bart hugged Mellie close to the body that was aching to make her his, to bind her to him as he’d never considered doing with a woman before. Then he turned the kiss from tender to torrid.

Mellie flew right along with him. He could have easily laid her down right there. He was so hot for her, so ready—

Bart grabbed ruthlessly to the reins of self-control and forced himself down from the half-mad beast driven to claim his mate. His heart was pounding nearly out of his chest as he uncurled his fingers, one by one, until he’d relaxed the savage hold he had on her.

But he didn’t let go. Instead he held her close, his much larger frame shuddering from the force of his need for her. “I’m going to count to ten, sweetheart,” he murmured to the woman clasped tightly in his arms. “And somehow, I’m going to manage to make myself let go, at least long enough to get us the hell out of here and into a proper bed.”

Her fingers dug into his back. “Okay,” she said against his chest, and the heat of her breath nearly undid all his resolutions. “We can do this.”

Bart found himself, of all things, smiling. “Yeah, maybe,” he said into her hair. “But oh, babe, you have no idea how much I want to make love to you right here and right now.”

Another press of fingers, and Bart had to force his eyes open and stare at the bulkhead across from them, reminding himself that the crew was outside the plane. He just barely managed to restrain himself.

He wanted time—lots of it—and privacy for what would come next. “Okay, ten…nine…”

Mellie giggled, of all things, then joined him. “Eight…seven…”

It helped his ego that she seemed to be having as tough a time as he was prying her body from his.

The second they said “one” in unison, he grasped her hand, grabbed his bag and said, “Let’s scram.”

Mellie grinned and raced to catch up with his long stride.

THEY NEVER MADE IT TO DINNER.

Bart could not have cared less. As he laid Mellie down on his king-size bed, all he was hungry for was her.

She watched him with wide eyes, her moves at first hesitant as though she truly were inexperienced, but somehow that only made him feel more tender toward her, more resolved to see that he treated her to all the pleasures possible. He teased her with soft kisses, taunted her with skilled fingers, made it his business to drive her beyond the point where that busy brain could keep thinking, to where she could only feel, only want, only need.

Where she was as crazed for him as he was for her.

Bart resolved that this was only the beginning of who they would be together. He would bind her to him with glorious pleasures, and she would never again shy away from his touch, from the ecstasy he could give her.

One day soon, he vowed, she would bare that frightened heart and give it into his keeping, too. Then Bart himself quit thinking and planning and abandoned himself to the sheer splendor that was Mellie.

And if, for a moment, a niggling sense of something unexpected nearly made him stop, the sheer joy of her passionate response quickly tumbled him back into the magic that was Mellie.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MELLIE CREPT FROM BART’S CONDO before dawn, grateful that she’d insisted on following him in her car. She’d cast one last glimpse at him, sprawled in his bed, and it was all she could do not to weep.

The night had been beyond anything she’d ever imagined. In her wildest dreams, she’d never had a clue why people lost their minds over sex.

Though this hadn’t been just sex, not for her. If she’d been halfway in love with Bart before, that had only been because fear had been the brake.

But now that she knew what it was like to give herself completely to another, to feel that abandon returned…

Maybe he didn’t notice. They say a man can’t always tell.

Idly she wondered exactly who they were as she drove back to her apartment, thankful that she had a few hours before she had to pick up Lily.

How would she know if Bart had realized this was her first time? And what would she do if he had? He would rightly want answers she wasn’t prepared to give—couldn’t give and keep him from being hurt by his father’s actions.

How she wished she could talk to someone to help her sort out her feelings! Sheila was the only person she could remotely imagine discussing them with, though, and Sheila was walking around in a fog of misery after her breakup with Gil.

Bart had been so tender, so caring. No woman could have ever had a better, more beautiful first time. Bart was so much more than his handsome exterior.

Had she given him the kind of night such a generous lover deserved? He’d been clear how much he wanted her, but would this night make him happy or complicate his life?

Oh, how she hoped not. He was kind and smart and funny…to say nothing of scorching-hot sexy. A part of her desperately wanted to be back in that bed with him, but he’d stripped her heart open and made her want so much more with him—more time to be selfish with him, a future she had no right to long for—and she needed to think, away from the potent distraction he presented.

First, she had to get herself together. Quit mooning over a man she couldn’t have.

One who had too much on his mind already. If she’d had an ounce of self-control, she would have resisted him last night, for his own good.

But what red-blooded woman could possibly resist a beautiful man like Bart Branch?

She was so confused. Mellie parked her car behind the diner, grateful that even Al wouldn’t have arrived yet. She would go up the stairs, grab a shower and fall into bed for a couple of hours before she had to face the day.

Even if she really didn’t want to wash away the traces of the most magical night of her life, not yet.

She would sleep first, she decided. Then maybe she would awake refreshed and know what to do. She stuck her key in the lock, but the door sagged open before she could turn it.

Mellie stood frozen on the landing as she tried to absorb the sight before her, the carnage, the devastation.

They’ve found us, was all she could think. Whoever they are. It’s happening again.

Then she began shaking.

BART SLAMMED INTO HIS TRUCK and threw it into gear.

She’d lied to him…and run. In the clear light of morning, he’d understood his momentary hesitation last night. And the night’s magic had vanished in a cloud of disillusionment.

You can run, Mellie, but you won’t get far. I deserve an explanation. He drove with his mind focused only on the trip, the blocks to be spanned before he got to her. He was angry, yes, to a degree he had only experienced before at the hands of his slimeball of a father.

And just as with his father’s stunning betrayal, the true source of his anger was hurt.

The woman he’d felt so protective about, had worried over, however much he’d tried not to, had lied to him, too. At the crucial moment last night, it hit him now, when his head was clear, there had been more to Mellie’s reactions than simple shyness.

There was nothing Bart Branch hated more than a lie.

His gut had been trying to tell him something his mind just couldn’t wrap itself around. Puzzle pieces were falling into place in a way he would have never expected. Jake’s most recent call had said the girls were in North Carolina somewhere.

Don’t think. Just drive. Wrecking your truck won’t help.

But he had to know, however sick he felt, so he plowed ahead. In minutes he was turning the corner of the block on which the diner stood and spotted her car. Good. He wheeled into the lot and didn’t bother parking inside the lines. All his control had to be saved for confronting the woman who’d made a mockery out of what had started out as the most astonishing night of his life.

He pounded up the stairs. “Mellie!” he called out. “I want answers—”

He halted as the door canted on its frame, and fear replaced fury. “Mellie?” Every sense on alert, he eased inside, his gut roiling at the devastation he saw. “Mellie, where are you?”

Anxiety beat a tattoo on his heart.

Then he spotted her standing in the middle of the tiny living area, one hand over her mouth as her shoulders shook.

Every drawer lay open, every cushion slashed.

“Are you all right?”

She gasped and whirled at his voice, her face bone-white, her eyes glassy with shock. She spoke too low for him to hear, only a few halting words.

He crossed the distance, stepping over and around piles of destruction. “What is it? Are you okay? Stay here. Let me make sure they’re gone.”

He scanned the tiny bedroom and the adjoining bath, but the place was empty. He returned to her side and gathered her close, but she was limp as a rag doll, shaking like a leaf and chanting a few words over and over again until finally he could make them out.

“They’ve found us. It’s happening again.”

Suddenly she jerked from his grasp and raced to the bedroom, yanking a suitcase from the closet and grabbing clothes, tossing them in, heedless of any order.

“What are you doing? Mellie, we have to call the cops. Don’t disturb anything so they can find out who did this.”

“I can’t wait.” Grimly she reached for a pillowcase and began stuffing items of hers and Lily’s inside, then froze and grabbed for her phone. “Lily. I have to call Louise and be sure—”

Before she could dial, Bart captured her hand. “It’s barely dawn. A ringing phone at this hour will scare Louise and Al half to death.”

“I don’t care. I have to be with Lily. Get out of my way.” She grabbed the overloaded suitcase that was half her size and dragged it off the bed.

It fell from her grip with a thud.

He grasped her shoulders. “Mellie, stop this. What’s going on? Do you know who did this?”

She looked up at him, her face bleached to parchment. “Not really.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Bart, please. Just go. I’m leaving today. Right now. I’ll wait outside Louise’s until she and Al are up, but then I have to… We can’t stay.”

“Where will you go?”

Her gaze skittered from his. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You can’t just take off without knowing. I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop me. Look, I know where I’m going, but I can’t—I didn’t want to tell you…” She began shaking again. “Please, Bart, just leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Didn’t want to tell me what?” He had to know.

Her face was a study in pure misery. “I’m sorry—for everything. I didn’t know, I swear it, and I couldn’t tell you because it would hurt you, and I thought they were gone, but—” Her eyes darted around the room. “I have to go to Texas. He has to help.”

“To…Texas? Why? Who has to help?” But the pieces were assembling into a picture that was a punch in the gut. She was barely in her twenties.

“Where are you going, Mellie?” he asked when she remained silent, his voice deceptively soft. “Tell me. Don’t lie to me anymore.”

Mellie’s shattered gaze rose to his, tears dripping from her eyes and guilt all over that delicate face. “I knew him as Hal.”

No. Bart wanted to howl. “You are her. Amelia. And Lily, she’s…” With a dull thud, his heart dropped to his feet.

He let go of Mellie and stepped back from her. “What a joke, huh? You must have laughed your head off.” He uttered a hollow chuckle. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, and you were right under my nose all the time.” He loomed over her. “Lying to me every day since we met. Lying to all of us, everyone who’s tried to help you.”

But she was staring at him in total bewilderment. “You were looking for me? But how could you know? How did you find out about us? I…Bart, I didn’t tell you for your sake. I was trying to protect you. Hal—Hilton, I mean—he’s hurt you so much. I didn’t know he was your father, I swear, not until—”

“Protect me? Or look out for yourself?” His laughter was bitter. “Honey, if Hilton Branch is who you’re expecting help from, prepare to be disappointed. That SOB has never helped anyone but himself in his entire life.” His eyes went to slits. “He says he doesn’t know where the money is, but how do I know you’re not in this with him somehow? Maybe he’s lying, as usual, and he does know where the money is. Are you partners? You retrieve the money, since he’s in jail and can’t do so?” Bart shook his head. “It would be just like him to take advantage of someone so young in order to keep Biscayne Bay from laying hands on the money.”

“What money?” She frowned. “What’s Biscayne Bay?”

“Don’t play coy with me now. It’s too late for that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I swear it.”

Bart gestured at the wreckage around them. “That’s who did this, a group of international criminals who had the poor judgment to loan my father millions. Now dear old Dad says he had a friend stash some of it for the second family he neglected to tell anyone about, and they believe you know where it is.”

Mellie sank to the mattress as though her legs wouldn’t hold her. “I’ve never heard a word about any money. I came to North Carolina looking for Hal because of something my mother said before she died. I just needed him to help take care of Lily.”

“So why’d you stay around when you didn’t find him here? Did you think you’d sucker me into taking care of you, since Hilton wouldn’t?”

She reacted as if he’d struck her. “How could you think that?”

“How could I not?” Suddenly all the pressures he’d been under for weeks and the kick in the teeth of knowing she had indeed been playing him snapped something inside him. “Never mind. At least now I can call off the private investigator I’ve had looking for you out of some misguided notion my family has about finding two helpless girls in trouble.” He moved toward the door.

“Bart, I…please believe me that I never—”

He whirled on her. “Never what? Lied to me with every breath? Pretended to care about me? Let me, for God’s sake, take you to bed without knowing your real name?” And made me want to believe in love when I knew better? “I can’t talk about this. Stay where you are. I’m calling the police and then Sheila. You’ve put her livelihood in jeopardy, when she bent over backward to help you.”

“I never wanted to hurt anyone. Bart, just let me go. I’ll leave and everyone will be fine.”

His head was spinning. There was too much to be sorted out, and he was exhausted. He didn’t want her hurt, either. But knowing she’d lied to him changed everything. Lies had done too much damage to his family. Bart didn’t have many absolutes in his life, but he could not tolerate deception.

He couldn’t discuss this any more right now, but neither would he leave her vulnerable. “You can’t go anywhere, Mellie—or should I call you Amelia?” At her stricken look, he forced his voice to gentle. “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that these guys are bad news. You need help from the experts.”

“But I don’t understand. I really don’t know about any money, I swear it. Or why someone did this.”

Maybe she didn’t. But he’d lost faith in his judgment. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Just please…stay right there.” He started for the door.

“Bart…I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes but didn’t turn. “Me, too. I knew better.”

At the broken door, he paused and glanced back. She looked too vulnerable perched there on the ruined bed, her small shoulders bowed. He wouldn’t leave her alone until help had arrived, but he had to get away from her. To think.

He went down the stairs outside and began punching in numbers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“THERE WAS NOTHING, BOSS. Not one trace that the girl knows about the money.” The ex-con braced himself for Kell Saunders’s reaction to the news. “But at least we found her. Thought we’d never get a chance to search the place, though. All she does is work and take care of her sister.”

“Then it’s time to have a chat with her.”

“Not easy to do with cops crawling around. All I can do now is keep my eyes on her. Just got to be patient.”

“I’m running out of patience. Hilton Branch has screwed with me for the last time.” Saunders sighed.

“The girl’s been there for months, you say? Why hang around so long? The money’s got to be in North Carolina, from what Clifton said when I questioned him.”

Questioned him, the man thought. A polite term. “Saw something interesting while I was watching, Boss.”

“What’s that?”

“Branch’s son, one of the twins. He showed up after she did.”

“How was he behaving? Think he knows who she is?”

“Can’t tell. He was there for a while, then waited on the cops and split. Didn’t look happy.”

“I don’t need this complication. Get to her, get the information from her, then get out. Pronto.”

The man shook his head. Saunders acted as if he was king of the planet, but this whole venture wasn’t simple. He didn’t know all the details, but he couldn’t understand why a guy like Saunders, who was rolling in dough, got so worked up over a lousy million bucks or so. Somehow, though, this had become personal.

The man flinched. Kell Saunders was not someone you wanted to have focused on you. Whoever this Branch guy was, he’d regret crossing Saunders.

Prison walls were made strong in order to keep the bad guys inside, but they provided no protection at all for those on the inside when someone as powerful and connected as Kell Saunders was out for revenge.

“Will do, Boss,” he said, glad as hell Saunders didn’t want to teach him a lesson.

MELLIE DIDN’T WANT TO WATCH the race at Phoenix.

But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Anyway, it was impossible to avoid the coverage in the hub of NASCAR, especially at Sheila’s. And truth to tell, however stupid it was to want to catch a glimpse of Bart, to wish with all her heart that she hadn’t made his championship hunt more difficult, she was in his corner, even if his abandonment had hurt.

She hadn’t seen or heard from him since the break-in, and she didn’t expect to. He was right, however good her intentions, she’d lied to him again and again, for months now. At first she hadn’t known that Hal Walker, the man she was trying to find, was actually Bart’s father, Hilton Branch. Then she’d been struggling to protect him from that knowledge.

Some good that had done.

But she really couldn’t blame Bart. The timing couldn’t be worse for a bomb like that to be dropped on him.

Never mind that the aftermath wasn’t easy on her, either. She’d gone from the heights of glory one night, to the depths of despair the next morning.

In between, she’d let herself spin all manner of fantasies about being with Bart, about finding a family, about a future where she wasn’t so alone and frightened.

More the fool, me.

She hadn’t asked for this misery, any of it. She’d lost a mother and a home, and she’d been doing her best to cope while caring for her little sister.

But all Bart had seen were the lies. Oh, sure, he’d hired a security company to watch over her until the cops could locate the people responsible for the break-in. But she was as dead to him as if she’d never existed.

I knew it was too much to hope for.

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from hoping, however.

The crowd at the diner gasped, and Mellie’s attention returned to the screen. Mellie couldn’t breathe as she watched Bart evade a multicar collision by the skin of his teeth. When he was safe, she checked the standings and the lap count, her heart sinking. If she understood the points system, he was barely hanging on to second place and the gap between him and the points leader had increased.

Oh, Bart, I am so very sorry. This is my fault. A heartbroken Mellie turned away and busied herself bussing tables. Maybe if she didn’t watch, he’d do better.

Maybe if she were gone altogether from his life and his town, she couldn’t do him any more harm.

She would call the police detective handling her break-in and promise to stay in touch after she left. He hadn’t been optimistic that the culprits would be caught anyway. He’d explained to her all he’d learned from Bart about the money meant for Mama and Lily, the price of Hilton Branch’s guilty conscience for the lie he’d perpetrated on her beautiful mother.

But the detective had admitted that the chances of tracing the funds were slim to none, that over time the criminals looking for it would be forced to give up, since she clearly knew nothing about it.

There was no reason she had to stay in the area and so many reasons to go…if only she knew where.

She’d promised Bart not to try to leave until the bad guys were caught, but that would likely never happen, and meanwhile, all she did was complicate life for Bart and his family.

Worse than that, she’d received a call last night from Bart’s sister, Penny, telling her that the Branches wanted to meet Lily, that they were eager to welcome her into the family.

A family with a lot of money and power. Mellie hadn’t slept a wink since the call, not after she realized that the Branches could stake as much claim to Lily as she herself could. What court wouldn’t compare how much better they could support Lily and give her everything Mellie could not?

For a second, Mellie wished for that stash of money to be real so she could use it to defend her right to keep her little sister with her. But even if it existed, spending any of it would only alert the bad guys and they’d be right back after her.

The thought of losing Lily—however many times Mellie had prayed to be relieved of the heavy responsibility—stabbed terror deep into Mellie’s breastbone. Her hands began shaking, and her mind darted like a terrified minnow with a shark in hot pursuit. She barely heard the groan of disappointment in the crowd when Bart couldn’t quite pull off the win. Her mind was fully occupied with one thought and one alone:

She had to disappear again or she would lose Lily.

In that moment, she made up her mind to slip away as soon as possible. She and Lily had been staying with Louise and Al since the break-in while Mellie spent off hours cleaning up the damage to the apartment, the least she could do to repay Sheila’s kindness.

She would finish up tonight, then tomorrow when she was off for the day she would take Lily and leave Mooresville for good.

MOST OF THOSE ON THE PLANE with Bart wisely left him alone on the plane ride home.

But not his crew chief, Philip Whalen. “Where the devil is your head, Bart? There is nothing else you should be focusing on but your driving. What’s the matter with you? I’ve never seen you so distracted. Whatever’s bugging you, get it squared away. We can still win this thing, but only if we’re all in it one hundred percent.”

Bart itched to expend some of his filthy mood in a rousing argument, but Philip was right. What was wrong with him was Mellie and his sense of being duped yet again by someone he’d thought he could trust.

As Penny had reminded him last night, however, Mellie had done nothing wrong except be very young and scared half to death, shouldering a backbreaking responsibility. Even Bart’s mother had called him to say that she welcomed Mellie—he should call her Amelia, he guessed, but he couldn’t—and the innocent child of his worthless father.

If his mother, who’d been so deeply betrayed by Hilton, could hold Mellie blameless, why couldn’t he?

Ignoring her wasn’t helping. She was on his mind constantly. He was afraid for her, even though he’d hired a highly reputable security company to watch over her. And, blast it, he missed her.

He’d been her first. That thought never left him for long, how passionately she’d responded to him, how sweet and vulnerable she’d been in his arms, how no one had ever touched him so deeply before.

“You’re right,” he said to his crew chief, whose eyebrows flew upward as he’d obviously expected a much different response. “It’s something personal, and I thought I had it tucked away, but…” He sighed. “I’ll get it taken care of, I swear.” He hoped, anyway. That is, if Mellie was still speaking to him. He would head over to Louise’s the second the plane touched down, and he’d make this right.

He leaned forward in his seat. “Okay, let’s talk about Homestead. I’m going to win that sucker, come hell or high water. I let you all down today, but it won’t happen again, I swear it.”

Relief flashed over Philip’s features. “Okay,” he said, and began the postmortem of the Phoenix race.

MELLIE HALTED AT THE BOTTOM of the staircase leading to the apartment. It didn’t matter that she’d already cleared out a lot of the damage, the first image was always of what she’d stumbled onto only days ago, and a shiver of fear still accompanied that memory of feeling so violated and so helpless.

That she now understood what had happened in Idaho and had pursued her across the country didn’t help. She glanced around for her shadow, the omnipresent anonymous vehicle that changed from day to day, making it as hard for her to spot as they all hoped would be the case for the bad guys she hoped had given up and left. If it would help, she’d gladly take out a newspaper ad or post a big sign that said Mellie Knows Nothing About Any Money. Please Leave Her Alone.

She’d seriously proposed that approach to the police and the security company agent who’d arrived before Bart would leave her alone, but all had said it would do no good. The agent had told her not to worry and had given her a necklace with an alarm button on it that would allow them to stay back out of sight but ensure she could summon help anytime she was worried.

She fingered that necklace now. Don’t be a goose, she chided herself. You’re safe.

She took a deep breath and mounted the stairs, glad that this would be her last night to enter the place that had once been her haven but now represented a nightmare she was eager to leave.

She stuck a key in the lock and turned it, then opened the door and reached for the light switch to set the place ablaze—

A hand caught her wrist and stopped her, grabbing for the other hand instinctively going for the alarm button. “Your guardian is having a little nap,” said a harsh, triumphant voice. “While he’s sleeping,” the man snickered, “you and I are going to have a little chat.”

“COME ON OVER TO THE HOUSE,” Will urged Bart at the terminal parking lot. “Don’t go back to your place alone. You know you’ll just chew over this all night.”

“I’ll be fine,” Bart said.

“Why don’t you go with him, Will?” Zoe suggested as she and Will each tucked a baby into a car seat. “It’s not like I’ve never put the kids to bed by myself.”

“I’ll help Mom, Uncle Bart,” Sam said.

“There’s no need for all this trouble,” Bart protested. “I might go by Louise’s first and talk to Mellie a minute.” He carefully kept his tone casual, but he and Will hadn’t shared a womb for nothing.

“Let me just follow you, in case…”

Bart couldn’t help but grin. “In case what, she pulls out a shotgun on me?” The very image of tiny, dainty Mellie brandishing a weapon was too incongruous not to laugh about.

But Will wasn’t laughing. “I’m following you. If you trip over your tongue with her, I’ll be the Mounties and rescue you from screwing up. Seriously, Bart, maybe it would help her to know that the whole family’s behind her.”

“Pen already called her, right?” But abruptly Bart stopped arguing because the fact was that he wouldn’t mind the company if Mellie either wasn’t available or wouldn’t speak to him. “Okay, but just for a little while, then you need to go home to your beautiful wife.”

“You think I want to look at your ugly mug any longer than I have to when I could be in bed with Zoe?” Will’s sarcasm did a poor job of veiling his concern over Bart’s state of mind. “Get real, dude.” He saluted and unlocked his own truck, then waited for Bart to start his.

Bart drove to Louise and Al’s, trying to figure out how best to tell Mellie what a jerk he’d been and how to get her to forgive him, but as he rolled to a stop in front of their house, he gave up. He would have to simply wing it and hope that her kind heart would relent. He walked up their sidewalk and waited for them to answer.

But when Louise told him Mellie wasn’t there, that she’d gone to the apartment to finish cleaning up, he breathed a small sigh of relief that he wouldn’t have to make his case in front of an audience. He wasn’t thrilled at the thought of her being in that place at night, but Louise assured him that she had her cell phone and her alarm button and that the security company guy who’d been parked outside had said that his relief was rolling into place at the apartment even as Mellie was backing out of the drive.

Bart spared a moment to update Will, then headed over to the apartment, still with no idea exactly what he would say. When he pulled into the parking lot, he made his way up the stairs, preoccupied with his internal debate over what approach would work best.

But when he knocked on the door, Mellie took a long time answering, and when she did, she seemed preoccupied. “Bart, this, uh, this isn’t a good time.”

No surprise she wasn’t happy to see him. “Look, Mellie, I know I was harsh on you, and I was wrong. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I see that I overreacted. It’s just that my dad— Let me in, and I’ll try to explain.”

But to his surprise she only gripped the door more tightly. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter.”

He frowned. How could it not matter? He’d given her no chance, just condemned her without a trial. “You’re wrong,” he said softly. “I care about you, Mellie.”

Instead of softening, however, all she did was become more rigid. “I said it wasn’t a good time, Bart.”

He took a good look at her and realized that her face was drawn tight with strain, her eyes shadowed by fear. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

At that instant, he saw a shadow move behind her. “Who’s here?”

Mellie flinched, and Bart thought he saw the barrel of a pistol. He shoved the door open, and Mellie tumbled back.

“No, Bart, run! He’s got—”

A stocky man yanked her against him and brandished his weapon. “I told you to send him away,” he growled.

Mellie let out a yelp of pain. Bart lunged for the man’s gun hand and shoved Mellie to the side.

The man got off a shot before Bart took him to the floor, then aimed a vicious chop at the man’s wrist to dislodge the weapon.

That only seemed to enrage the man further, and he landed a punch to the side of Bart’s head. Bart reeled backward.

Mellie raced for the door and screamed for help.

Bart lunged forward with a solid jab that snapped the man’s head sideways. The man swung wildly at him, then used a foot to hook Bart’s ankle. As he fell, Bart grabbed the man by the throat, and the two of them rolled over the floor, each one fighting to gain the upper hand. Bart was in better shape, but the man was obviously accustomed to violence, and Bart knew he was in for the fight of his life.

Will charged through the door and waded in. Bart and Will subdued the man in record time. Soon the wail of police sirens sounded in the distance.

A few minutes later, Mellie’s attacker was in police custody, and Mellie was in Bart’s arms. “Are you hurt?” she asked, frantically running her hands over his body.

“My thickheaded brother?” Will scoffed. “Honey, the Branch twins know how to hold their own.” He grinned at Bart. “Not like we didn’t have plenty of experience getting into fights as kids, huh?”

But Bart couldn’t join in on the teasing. He was still remembering Mellie with a gun to her head. “It took years off my life, seeing you at his mercy,” he murmured to her.

She shivered and wriggled closer into his chest. “I was trying to get rid of you. I didn’t want him to hurt you or Lily.” She tensed and looked up. “You’re sure she’s all right?”

Bart nodded. “There’s no evidence of any partner, but the police are keeping an eye on Louise’s place. As soon as the medics have checked you out, we’ll drive right over to get her.”

“Checked me out? I wasn’t the one who—” She pressed her lips together. “You stopped him. You saved me. You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.” He closed his arms around her more tightly. “I said you were safe. I’m sorry. I should have kept you with me, but I lost my temper and left you at his mercy.”

“You did not. You hired someone to watch over me. It’s not your fault.”

He tipped up her chin. “I’m insisting now. You’re staying with me,” he said fiercely. “You and Lily are not leaving my sight.”

“That’s completely unrealistic. You have a championship to win, and you can’t afford to be distracted, Bart. I’ll figure something out.”

“I want you to come with me to Homestead.”

“I have a job.”

He arched a brow. “That you were going to skip out on, remember?”

“Now, now, children,” Will interrupted. “You can stay with us, Mellie.”

“The hell she can,” Bart exploded. “You have to race next weekend, too. Go home to your wife and stop meddling.”

Mellie stepped away from him. “I’ve been taking care of Lily for most of her life. Don’t order me around, either of you.”

The sharp edge of panic stabbed into Bart, but he had the sense that he could lose her right here and now if he didn’t get a rein on his protective instincts. He glanced at his brother first. “Scram, Will.”

“But—” Will shook his head and held up his palms.

“Fine. Screw this up, though, and you’ll be answering to the rest of the family.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Bart exhaled. He sent his twin a silent message of thanks. “Beat it.”

“You’re welcome.” But Will squeezed his shoulder as he left. He paused near Mellie and leaned down, murmuring something to her that Bart couldn’t hear.

Whatever it was, Mellie’s lips curved. She gave Will a quick kiss on the cheek. He smirked back at Bart and left.

“What was that about?”

She cocked her head and studied him. “He said you like to think you’re the smart twin, and he lets you believe that because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, since he’s also the better looking.”

Bart tried to lighten up and respond in kind, to let go of his fierce need to protect her, but he couldn’t. “I’m smart enough to know that I should never have taken out my father’s bad behavior on you. You and Lily are as much his victims as anyone else in the family.”

She looked sad at that. “Lily’s your family, but I’m not.”

“You obviously don’t know my mother very well,” he said, drawing closer to her. “She’s already laid claim to you as one of her chicks.”

“Really?” Wistfulness swept over her delicate features. “I miss my mother so much,” she said softly.

“Tell me about her.”

“It won’t bother you? I mean, in light of—”

“Hilton deceived her more than anyone. I knew he was low, but to take advantage like that…”

“He honestly seemed to love her,” Mellie said. “He lit up every time he saw her—” She halted. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear that.”

“My mom’s much happier without him. It makes me mad as hell to say it, but she was only a means to an end for Hilton. He married her for her money. Chuck treats her the way she always deserved to be treated, like she’s the queen of the universe and the highlight of every second he’s with her.”

“It must have been so awful for all of you, what happened.”

Forget it, he started to say, but for the first time since his father’s betrayal, he actually wanted to talk about what had happened. “Our whole world collapsed. Everything we thought we knew about our family and ourselves just—” he snapped his fingers “—up in smoke. I mean, he’d never been around much and my mom really raised us, but he always acted like he was so proud of us, like we were something special.”

“You are something special,” she said.

She made him feel that way. “We’re a hell of a bunch, I have to say. We pulled together, all of us, even when everything looked pretty dark. We made it through, no thanks to him.”

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive him?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “Why should I?”

“For your own sake,” she said, reaching out for his hand. “It would make you feel better. As long as you’re holding a grudge, you’re not moving on.”

He removed his hand from hers, stung. “On that,” he said tightly, “we’ll have to agree to disagree.” Then he shook off the bad mood that thoughts of his father always generated and softened his expression with a smile. “Let’s go see the medics and get them to release us. Lily’s probably asleep, right? But we could at least look in on her.”

Mellie hesitated, then nodded. “I’d like that.”

He tucked her under his arm and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “And then I’m taking you home with me, Miss Mellie.”

“Bart…”

Just then, the detective in charge approached. “Mr. Branch? Ms. Donovan? I have more questions.”

Bart felt Mellie stiffen against him. “Of course.”

“The name he gave us doesn’t turn up in any of our databases, and it’s clear that he’s more afraid of the people he works for than of going to jail.” He exhaled. “But that’s not unusual. When the FBI gets hold of him, he may change his tune. We’ll see.”

“So there’s nothing we can do to make them go away?” Mellie asked.

Amelia, he reminded himself. “I’ll keep you safe, I swear it.”

The detective cast sympathetic eyes on her. “We’ll maintain watch around here.”

“What if I left town? There’s no reason I can’t go, right?”

Bart went rigid. “You aren’t running away.”

But she ignored him. “You can’t make any promises,” she said to the detective. “Correct?”

“Ms. Donovan,” he replied with exaggerated patience.

“This was a complicated case from the beginning.”

“I understand. But that’s why I have to be realistic. I have Lily to care for.”

Bart had to fight his own possessive instincts. “What if she went to Dallas and stayed with my mother?”

The detective shook his head. “Now that they’ve found her and the connection to your family is clear…”

“She’ll have a full-time bodyguard,” Bart said. “He’ll dog her every step. No more keeping watch from a distance.”

“That’ll help,” agreed the detective.

Then it struck Bart what would probably help most.

“I’ll go talk to my father.” He never wanted to lay eyes on the man again, but if Biscayne Bay could get word to Hilton, surely the channel of communication could be reversed. “He’s done too much damage. He has to clean up his mess.”

“Bart—” Mellie tried to interrupt, but he was having none of it.

“There’s a possibility that could work, right?” he said to the policeman.

The man nodded. “We’ll keep after the henchman. He already admitted that Ms. Donovan seemed to know nothing.”

“Then we’ll send out the message from another direction,” Bart decided. “And meantime, she’s going to be under constant guard.” If Mellie looked pained at the prospect, well, too bad. It was for her own good.

The detective lingered for a couple more minutes, asking additional questions, then departed.

“You ready?” Bart asked her.

Her expression was preoccupied. “I guess.”

He led her, silent and withdrawn, to his truck. She’s had to deal with a lot. But everything will be all right now.

Bart settled her inside his truck, then rounded the hood and got in, ready to move on to the next chapter.

MELLIE SAT IN HIS PICKUP, her mind racing. He was a good man who only wanted to take care of her. Hadn’t she wished for that desperately over the past several months? Hadn’t she prayed for a savior?

But now that she’d witnessed an example of the price he could pay for caring about her, how could she let him? Even if he had any business getting into the middle of this mess, he was only six days away from the most important race of his life.

Somehow she made it through Louise’s worried hug and watching the sleeping Lily without breaking down, but when Bart urged her to come home with him…

How she longed to crawl into his arms, into his bed, and let go of all responsibilities. Bart was a take-charge kind of man, and he would willingly take her on as a pet project.

The Care and Feeding of Lily and Mellie.

She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t let him throw away his shot at something he’d worked for since he was a small boy.

What was the right thing to do? Go with him and risk the bad guys coming after him, too? Or run away and have him worry—because he would, she knew that.

All the way to his place, she wrestled with the dilemma. How could she find a solution that would keep Lily safe but not distract him? Allow him peace of mind to pursue his dream of a championship?

She’s already laid claim to you as one of her chicks.

The solution hit her. “I’ll go with Lily to spend this week with your mother, if you think she’d be okay with that.”

Bart’s gaze whipped to hers. “I’d rather have you with me at Homestead.”

She shook her head. “I can come down with her to the race, but if I’m there all week, all you’ll do is feel obligated to entertain me or keep me in mind when you need to be focused on other things.” At his frown, she played her trump card. “Lily doesn’t know them yet, and she’s too little to appreciate the experience, anyway, if we came with you. She isn’t ready to hang out at the racetrack.”

His look of chagrin gave her hope. He exhaled. “It’s not what I want, but you’re right.” He glanced over again. “At least if you’re with Mom and Chuck, I know you’ll be safe.”

Mellie breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she could accomplish both goals she sought: be there to cheer Bart on so he wasn’t worrying about her, yet still keep an eye out for an opportunity to lead the bad guys away from a family that had suffered enough.

Her heart squeezed so hard she could barely breathe at the thought of leaving Lily behind as she must once she’d helped her sister get to know them, but Lily loved Bart, and Mellie had no doubts that the Branches would take excellent care of her. She would miss Mellie at first, but she’d blossom under their care.

Please, she murmured a silent prayer, help me find a way to come back one day soon and see my little sister again.

“It’s the best option,” she said, knowing that however angry he would be, she was choosing the right path for all of them.

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks, Mellie. I feel better about this. If I can’t have you with me, that is.”

She squeezed back, aching over once again deceiving a very good man.

Then they arrived at his condo. He turned a more relaxed face to hers. “So what do you think, Miss Mellie? Can we put away everything just for this one night?”

She wanted to, desperately. One last time to be with a man who made her heart soar, who was every dream she’d ever had. For this once, could she put away everything else but the man in front of her, the one who could so easily be her Prince Charming if only she didn’t bring so much baggage with her?

His eyes softened into pools of longing and temptation. “What do you say, sweetheart?” he murmured. “I could use the chance to be close, and I think you could, too.”

Mellie studied a face that had already become beloved to her, then nodded. “I want that, too.”

His was a smile that lit up the night. He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I love you, Mellie.”

Even as her conscience pricked her, she answered with total honesty. “I…I love you, Bart.”

“Then everything’s gonna be just fine, you’ll see.”

It will, she thought. Because I’m going to make sure of it.

CHAPTER NINE

SAWYER’S GIRLFRIEND, LUCY, had offered to keep the kids—Will’s twins, Penny’s daughter and Lily—during the race with the help of a nanny the Branches had hired. Newly pregnant, she said she needed the practice. Sam was old enough to go with the adults and wouldn’t have missed seeing his uncle Bart race for the championship, to say nothing of how devoted a fan of his dad’s he was.

“Lily,” Mellie said as she put her sister to bed the night before the race, “you know I love you.”

Lily was busy playing with the die-cast car Bart had given her, a replica of his own from which she refused to be parted. “Bart loves me, too.”

Tears pricked at Mellie’s eyes. “He does. And Grammy Maeve.”

Lily looked up. “And Lucy and Sawyer and Will and Sam and Grandpa Chuck and—”

Mellie had to smile at the recitation of family members Lily had taken to instantly.

As they had taken to her. Mellie had been right; Lily belonged with them, would have a fine life under their care.

But her own heart was breaking in two at the thought of leaving. However many times she’d wished for the chance to be young again and free of responsibilities, as the prospect loomed, it wasn’t enticing at all.

Because she would be alone.

Lily wouldn’t, though, not ever. The Branch family was full of love, which Mellie herself had lapped up like rich cream. Maeve had dismissed any possibility that Mellie would escape being cradled into their bosom just as much as Lily had been.

She loved Bart’s mother already. Yes, it was complicated, their past, but Maeve made it seem so simple to just go on, to move forward into the future.

And she clearly expected Mellie to become a member of the family legally, as well.

As Bart’s wife.

Mellie couldn’t recall the last full night’s rest she’d gotten as she wrestled with her longing to stay, to be part of them. To spend her life with Bart, even to one day have children with him.

Not that he’d proposed. Or that she’d let him, not as long as the specter of Biscayne Bay loomed.

She could remove that menace from them.

By leaving all that she’d grown to love in a matter of mere days.

“Why are you crying?” asked Lily.

She drew herself up short and brushed at her cheeks while cradling Lily close. “They’re happy tears, Lily. You have a family now.”

“Bart’s family,” Lily announced firmly.

“Your family, too. They love you, and they’ll take care of you.” The moment approached. She couldn’t just disappear and leave Lily wondering. “Lily, Mellie has to take a little trip.”

“Where will we go?”

“You’ll stay here, sweetie. It’s not a little-girl trip.”

Lily frowned. “I go with you. I always go with you.”

Mellie didn’t think her heart could hurt any worse. “You get to stay with Bart this time.”

Lily brightened. “My Bart,” she crowed.

Mellie nodded and cuddled her close. “Bart’s yours. He loves you so much.”

Lily relented and allowed the cuddling. “I love Bart.” Then she straightened. “When will you come back?”

Oh, Lordy. I won’t survive this. Mellie bit her lip and pasted on a smile. “A few days.” At three, a few days could mean anything, Mellie had learned. “Now” was the only concept Lily really understood; an hour or a week from now were no different.

Lily grew solemn. “Do you want to take Bear?” She held out her beloved stuffed toy.

Mellie couldn’t speak for a minute. “It’s not a Bear trip, either, sweetie, but thank you.”

A relieved Lily quickly crushed Bear back into her embrace.

Mellie busied herself tucking Lily into bed, barely making it through all the nighttime rituals of reading a story and singing her to sleep, but somehow she managed.

Then she stood over her baby sister for long moments as Lily’s long dark lashes cast shadows on her innocent cheeks.

OUTSIDE THE DOOR OF THE bedroom that was part of the suite Chuck and Maeve had reserved for Mellie and Lily and themselves, Maeve Branch Lawrence stood silently and watched the young woman she’d come to admire greatly as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t heard the entire conversation, but she’d heard enough.

Mellie loved Bart; Maeve had seen it on her face countless times. But she also was very aware that Mellie took a lot of responsibility on those delicate shoulders and that something wasn’t right.

She wouldn’t trouble Bart with this, not tonight when he was already wound like a spring over the race tomorrow, because she knew her valiant and honorable son. He would stop at nothing to keep Mellie from leaving, and he’d worked too hard to throw away this chance at a championship.

She would talk to Chuck, tell him what she’d heard.

They’d keep a close eye on Mellie. Maeve knew she believed that her presence with them jeopardized the family somehow, never mind that Chuck had enough money to hire an army to protect all of them and would do so in a heartbeat.

You’re valiant, too, sweetheart, Maeve thought as she watched those slim shoulders shake. She took a step toward the door and drew Mellie’s attention, crossing the room to stand beside her and watch over the sleeping child.

Then she put one arm around Mellie’s shoulders. “I was thinking about a cup of tea. Interested?”

Mellie’s troubled gaze met hers, and at last she nodded. “I am. Thank you.”

“Good.” Maeve gave the girl a squeeze and led her from the room.

“TWO LAPS, BUDDY,” SAID Bart’s crew chief, his voice deadly calm. “That’s all you have to manage, and the trophy’s all yours.”

“All ours,” Bart corrected, his focus intent, his gloved hands tightly gripping the wheel. “How far back is the No. 464 car, Tom?” he asked his spotter.

“Nearly three car lengths. Lapped traffic coming up. Just concentrate on not getting wrecked, and you’re home free.”

Bart refused to let himself absorb the possibility yet. Anything could happen—and would, if he got ahead of himself and started celebrating.

“White flag coming up,” intoned Tom, excitement leaking through.

Bart ruthlessly stifled his own as he shot over the start-finish line to begin the last lap of a race that had been white-knuckle close most of the day. He navigated his way through dense traffic at the rear of the field, but his heart pounded faster and faster as he came into Turn Four, then sped down the homestretch—

“You did it, you son of a gun!” yelled his normally sober crew chief.

“You guys rock!” shouted Bart as the checkered flag swept down. “We did it!” He cut loose with a huge yell.

“Yeeeehaw!” He grinned as the sounds of his cheering crew poured into the headphones built into his helmet.

“Your brother says he’s still the best-looking.” Tom relayed the message from Will’s spotter.

At that moment, Will zoomed up on Bart’s left and tapped his bumper, then proffered a big thumbs-up. He escorted his twin as Bart reversed course to retrieve the checkered flag and do his burnout, and Bart knew that though Will would have given a lot to be in his place, he was genuinely happy for his brother.

“Yeah, but I’ve got the trophy!” Bart yelled, and his whole team laughed.

Bart grabbed the flag and sent smoke spiraling through the air.

But as he drove to Victory Lane after the burnout, he was already asking after Mellie. Somehow the win wouldn’t be as big without her there.

MELLIE STOOD ON THE PODIUM with Bart, feeling like a fraud. She had no business being there. They’d only known each other a matter of months, and he’d spent years in pursuit of this dream.

But when he looked at her as he was right this minute, she knew his triumph would be tarnished if she slipped away now. She was still planning to leave the first second possible, but for now, she might as well settle in.

Then Bart swooped her up in his arms and kissed her—in front of thousands at the track and millions more on television. “Thank you for being here. You make it all better.”

She touched his face. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Break it up, you two. Get a room.” Will appeared on the podium and exchanged a backslapping hug with his twin. “Tell you what, you take the girl, and I’ll take the trophy.”

“You wish.” Bart grinned at his brother.

“Uncle Bart!” cried Sam. “You did it!”

Bart exchanged high-fives with his nephew. “Sam, my man. Want to hold the trophy?”

“It’s nearly as big as he is,” Zoe said.

Soon the entire family was crowded around Bart as the ceremony ended and the crowd began to drift away.

Mellie saw her chance and began edging backward. When she reached the edge of the stage, she leaped down.

“You can’t do this to him,” said a voice behind her. Mellie froze, then turned to see Chuck Lawrence behind her. “Do what? I was just—”

“Maeve heard you with Lily last night. You can’t leave him, Mellie. Not after all he’s been through.”

“I have to. It’s for his own good.”

“Bart’s a grown man. He won’t thank you.”

“For what?” Bart appeared from behind Chuck.

“What’s going on?”

Mellie pressed her lips together. “Nothing.”

“She’s trying to run,” Chuck said in the same moment.

Bart’s gaze whipped to hers, the glow of triumph deserting his features. “You’re kidding. Why, Mellie?”

“I…”

“She has the idea, I think, that she’s going to lead Biscayne Bay away from all of us, isn’t that right, Mellie?”

“What?” Bart exploded. He closed the distance between them. “Mellie, for God’s sake, that’s insane. You can’t go. I won’t let you.”

“It’s not your choice. I’m not a prisoner—or am I?”

Bart scowled. “Of course you’re not, but—” He exhaled with force. “Look, Mellie…” He reached for her.

She stepped back. “Bart, please. I can’t let you do this. Take care of Lily, yes. She’s better off with you. But they won’t ever give up, and I can’t bring this down on you.” Her eyes filmed. “Don’t you know how lucky you are to have this beautiful family? You can’t let them be endangered just because you have this white-knight complex about me.”

Bart stared at her, then he did something completely unexpected.

He grinned. “White knight, huh? That’s what you think?” He neared her again and this time clasped her hand so she wouldn’t escape. “I promise you, Miss Mellie,” he said in a low, husky voice, “what I feel for you is hardly so pure.”

“Bart!” She glanced behind him to see Chuck grinning, too.

“But here’s the thing,” Bart continued. “You don’t have to leave. There have been developments.”

“Like what?”

“I talked to my dad.” His brow furrowed.

“You did?”

He nodded.

“Was it—are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever understand how he could be so self-centered, but he says he’s a changed man and—” He shook his head. “Maybe he is. He even says he’d like to talk to you, if you’d see him, so he can apologize. He never meant to put you in harm’s way, he swears, but—” Lines formed between his brows. “I don’t think you should put yourself through that.”

“He is Lily’s father…” She gnawed at her lip. “And he was good to us. He made my mother very happy until…” She met Bart’s gaze. “I guess I would like to hear what he has to say. The important part, though, is that you and he are talking again. It’s a step toward healing your family.”

“He’s got a lot to make up for.” His eyes showed his confusion over how to feel about the man who’d cost them all so much. “Only time will tell how sincere he is, but…” He exhaled strongly. “I’ll try.”

She placed one hand on his arm. “I’m glad.”

“Bart,” called out his PR representative. “You have to get to the media center. You’re not nearly done.”

“Hold on,” Bart responded. “Give me a minute.”

Mellie tried to remove her hand, but he wouldn’t let go. “This is your day, Bart. Just go on. We can talk later.”

“I’m thinking about chaining you to my side,” he said grimly. But then she saw his eyes sparkle.

“Go ahead,” she urged him. “Lots of reporters are waiting for you.”

“Go on, son,” Chuck added. “I won’t let her escape.”

“Not quite yet,” Bart said. Over his shoulder, he spoke to the PR rep. “Give me five minutes, and tell the press they’ll have a scoop worth waiting for.”

The woman shook her head. “It’d better be good.”

After she left, Bart turned to Chuck. “I’ve got this, okay?”

Chuck studied him, then smiled. “I believe you do.” He departed, as well.

Bart drew her behind the stage. “Okay, first, let’s dispel the notion that you have to go. My dad has agreed to work with the police and share everything he knows about Biscayne Bay and where the money might have been stashed.”

Her eyes widened. “But—”

“And second, the guy who attacked you has decided to accept witness protection and is singing like a bird. It also turns out that the Feds have been looking hard at Biscayne Bay for a long time, and the heat is going to ratchet up way too much for them to be worrying about little old you—or any of the rest of us.”

“Really?” Mellie took her first deep breath in days.

“Really.” He cradled her cheek in one big hand. “So here’s the thing, I know I’m too old for you and you’ve hardly had a chance to be young. You can’t possibly want to tie yourself down.”

She frowned. “What?”

“But I’m no white knight, Mellie. I want you to be mine. If I were a really good man, I’d set you free to lead any life you want, but…” He bent and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll offer you the world’s longest engagement if you need time. I want to spoil you rotten and let you kick up your heels and have fun…but I’d really like it to be with me.”

“Engagement?” she echoed. “Like…to get married?”

“I’m too old, right? Twelve years…might as well be thirty. But blast it, Mellie, my heart doesn’t seem to care. I love you, and I want you in my life forever. But you’ve got so much ahead of you, so I understand if—”

Mellie’s heart was pounding double-time. “Are you proposing to me?”

His expression turned wary. “Is that bad?”

“Bart!” called out his PR person. “Time’s up.”

“One more minute,” he shouted back, then turned to her. “Mellie, please, just think about it, okay? And don’t go anywhere, promise? Even if the answer is no, just…just, don’t, okay?” He turned to leave, still holding her hand.

She gripped his hard and stopped him. “Yes.”

He looked back at her. “Yes, you won’t leave?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” She couldn’t stop an enormous smile from spreading over her face.

“No, you’d better think about it, Mellie. I don’t think you’re ready to make that decision. You’re too young.”

Somewhere inside, the part of her that had always been older than her years showed her what was really happening with him. “Are you scared of me, Bart?”

“What? Of course not.”

“I’m not a child, you know.”

His eyes went hot. “I’m very aware of that.”

“So…”

“Bart!”

“Coming!” he shouted, and pulled Mellie along. “So…what?”

Mellie felt more sure of herself than she had in a very long time. As they rounded the corner and not only the PR rep but a battery of cameras and microphones greeted them, she tugged at Bart’s hand until he slowed and faced her. “I know my own mind, Bart. And I would love to marry you.”

He scanned her features for the truth, and what he saw seemed to convince him. He grinned and drew her close, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Here’s your scoop, gang—the future Mrs. Bart Branch.”

He swept Mellie up into an elaborate embrace, then dipped her right in front of the cameras and proceeded to lay a very thorough kiss on her.

When they came up for air, both their ears were ringing from the shouted questions, but Bart placed his mouth close to her ear when he spoke.

“Too late to run now, Miss Mellie.”

All she could do was smile.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-7577-9

RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES

Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.

The publisher acknowledges the copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

AT LAST
Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Liz Allison and Wendy Etherington are acknowledged as the authors of “At Last.”

END OF THE LINE
Copyright © 2010 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Jean Brashear is acknowledged as the author of “End of the Line.”

NASCAR® and the NASCAR Library Collection® are registered trademarks of the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing, Inc.

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at Customer_eCare@Harlequin.ca

® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

www.eHarlequin.com