Dangerous Race (12 page)

Tracey sighed at the actuality. “Well, when we were younger it was easy, but as we got older, as
I
got older, things changed. One girl, two guys…Nature kind of had to take a course and…well…it’s not important. I just think Matthew’s great and…like I said, he’s sensitive.”

Chelsea nodded and smiled, but Tracey got the distinct impression that she’d said something wrong. They parted ways and Tracey ran her dreaded errand.

Strolling through the lightly populated mall, Chelsea couldn’t stop thinking about her meeting with Tracey. Their conversation had hit her harder than she anticipated. She felt the heat in her cheeks as she remembered crying like a baby in the office.

“Quit thinking about it,” Kim said, as she came away from a boutique window. “You weren’t the one who abandoned her and you spent every dime you had to find her. You can’t feel bad about it. The best part is it’s going to come back to you when you take over those ads.”

Chelsea opened her mouth to dispute the merit of that idea, but no words came out when she spotted Tracey coming out of different boutique with a covered garment bag in hand. Tracey’s eyes widened as they met in front of a salon.

“Wow. Small world,” Tracey said. “I didn’t know you were coming here.”

Was that suspicion in her voice? “I didn’t know either,” Chelsea assured her. “Tracey, this is my friend, Kim Jacobs. Kim, this is Tracey Bradshaw.”

“Oh, my God.” Kim’s widened eyes said it all. “Seeing the resemblance on television is nothing compared to seeing you stand next to each other.” She put her hand out. “Sorry, bad manners. Nice to meet you.”

Tracey shook her hand. “Same here.”

“Mommy, lookie,” a little boy said as he walked by, holding his mother’s hand. “Two of the same lady.”

Tracey glanced at her and an awkward silence settled around them.

Chelsea’s stomach knotted a little tighter. “We were going to get our hair done,” she blurted, gesturing to the salon. “Want to join us?”

Tracey straightened and peered into the salon as if she’d never been inside one. Then she checked her watch. “Do you think they’ll take me without a reservation?”

“Considering it’s empty, I’d say they’d welcome the walk-in,” Kim said.

Tracey studied her reflection in the mirror and ran a hand over her hair before nodding. “Yeah, yeah, maybe it’s a good idea. Thanks.”

The narrow space had two sections of four seats along each sidewall. Kim had been right. Though she’d made a reservation for Chelsea and herself, the salon had been happy to accommodate Tracey.

After they’d had their hair washed, they sat in a row as strangers went to work on their hair. Kim had convinced them to get a mani/pedi, so that was next on the agenda.

They’d been sitting for more than ten minutes and Chelsea hated the strained silence. “It’s weird that we ran into each other, isn’t it?” she asked, glancing at Tracey who sat to her right.

“Yeah. Very weird.”

Tracey didn’t elaborate so Chelsea searched for another topic. “What did you buy?” she asked, indicating the garment bag that now hung on a coat rack against the wall.

“A dress. There’s an awards dinner tonight and I needed something to wear. I hadn’t even thought about my hair so I guess it’s lucky I ran into you. I haven’t had a cut in months. Usually my hair is in a ponytail or under a helmet so I don’t think about it much. It’s pretty shaggy.”

“Who are you going with?” Kim asked from her spot on Chelsea’s left.

“Uh…just a friend.” Tracey seemed unsure of her choice of words.

“Oh,” Kim said. “Because I thought maybe Chelsea could go with you if you didn’t have a date.”

Chelsea shot her pal a warning look. Kim was moving too fast in her attempt to save Harding and Jacobs Advertising. “Kim’s only kidding.” Chelsea shook her head and smiled. “Besides, I have plans.” With Matthew. Plans she didn’t especially want to cancel, even though she would in a nanosecond if Tracey invited her along tonight.

Tracey lifted her eyebrows. “Yeah, I heard. Sounds like you have a hot date. Where’s he taking you?”

“I have no idea. We haven’t talked about it.”

The small talk ended when the blow dryers started and the conversation didn’t pick up again until they sat in different chairs while three women worked on their pedicures. Chelsea had a hard time not looking at Tracey now that her hair was styled in soft layers around her face. Apparently, Tracey was having the same problem, because they each caught the other staring over and over again.

One thing did help the tension—every time the woman working on Tracey touched her foot, Tracey pulled back and laughed. The first time it happened, she’d slapped a hand across her mouth, but once all three of them had started laughing, she’d given up and let it out.

“Sorry,” she told the attendant working on her. “I’ve never had a pedicure before. I had no idea my feet were so sensitive.”

“So are mine,” Chelsea said. She shrieked as the woman at her feet buffed an especially sensitive spot. “I don’t get a lot of pedicures for this exact reason,” she added around a laugh.

The small red-headed woman smiled. “We get a lot of ticklish clients. We’re used to it.” She rubbed some cream onto Chelsea’s foot. “I have to tell you, I love your haircut. It’s gorgeous. Karen did a great job.”

Chelsea fluffed her new layered locks. She looked even more like Tracey than before. “Anytime I get a new haircut, it reminds me of the time I was seven and cut off my bangs. I’d been trying to grow them out, but they were so long and in my face that I found a pair of scissors and chopped off the hair to my scalp.”

“No way!” Tracey’s mouth dropped open. “I did the exact same thing when I was seven. I’d just started driving quarter midgets and the helmet pushed my bangs down into my eyes and drove me crazy. So one day I was so frustrated I just grabbed some scissors and sliced it off the front.” She groaned. “It took months for it to grow back.”

“Totally!” Chelsea agreed. She grinned and Tracey smiled back. She felt absolutely giddy until Kim secretly winked at her. The reminder of Kim’s ulterior motive doused Chelsea’s mood like water over a fire.

Too soon, their time together came to an end.

As they walked toward the mall exit together, Tracey admired her newly polished nails. “I can’t believe how much fun that was.” She looked at Chelsea and smiled. “Thanks.”

“We should thank you,” Kim said. “You paid.”

Chelsea had hated it. She’d balked at the idea, but Tracey had insisted and Kim had been all for it. Two against one and Chelsea had lost.

“It was the least I could do. If you hadn’t invited me, I’d have gone to this dinner tonight with the most ragged hair and nails on the planet. I never think of this stuff until it’s too late.” Tracey lost the smile as if it reminded her of something.

“Thanks again,” Chelsea said. “It was really unnecessary. But we had a ton of fun, so I hope you did too.”

Tracey nodded and a soft smile curved her lips. “I did. I really needed it so thank you.”

After that they split up. Kim’s satisfied smile didn’t sit well and guilt ate at Chelsea for hours.

That evening during her shower, Tracey couldn’t stop thinking about Chelsea, their identical looks and their upbringing. How had their mother decided which baby to give up? Had Chelsea been a sweeter, quieter baby? Had Tracey somehow done something to be unworthy of her mother’s love? She snorted. It seemed ridiculous to wonder about something she’d never know the answer to.

Watching Chelsea break down earlier had nearly done her in, but Tracey had shoved that bit of emotion down with the rest. Meeting her at the mall had been a shock and for a minute the newly paranoid side of her wondered if it had been an accident. Then she realized that Chelsea hadn’t known where she was going, and she’d had to pick up her pal so she clearly hadn’t followed her. The fluke was just weird. Tracey smiled again thinking about the afternoon. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much. She’d needed that release this afternoon, needed the escape those minutes had provided.

What if she really had a sister? A blood test would tell her what she needed to know, so second-guessing the outcome wouldn’t do her any good.

Tracey stepped out of the shower, toweled dry and stared at her purchase draped across the bed. She fingered the black velvet dress as lovingly as if it were her car. The floor-length, formfitting, halter-style gown had a long slit that ran up the right side and kept her left leg completely under wraps.

Applying makeup was a trick she hadn’t practiced in too long. Her newly trimmed hair flowed in soft layers around her shoulders. She stepped into the gown and pulled it up gingerly around her curves. Taking a deep breath, she faced the full-length mirror. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she smiled. She hadn’t looked this good in years. Four years to be exact. If she had to be completely honest, she looked exactly like Chelsea.

She smoothed the dress over her hips. For a quick second she imagined Mac’s hands traveling the same path. Caressing her body, gliding over her skin. Her lids snapped open and her breathing faltered. She couldn’t do that. Couldn’t think about things that wouldn’t and couldn’t ever happen.

Why had she ever let that kiss happen? She should’ve pulled away, slapped him, done something other than open to him so blindly. She hated hindsight.

No use in agonizing over it. All she had to do was get through tonight. She slid her feet into black two-inch heels, the highest she could manage and still walk normally. After a final check in the mirror, she grabbed her evening bag, a matching black velvet shawl and headed out. Mac had asked her to meet him in the lobby, explaining that he had a surprise.

She really, truly hated surprises.

The elevators opened and Tracey walked toward the fountain. Her gaze found Mac as if by magnetic draw. He spoke to the concierge with his back facing her. She’d know those shoulders and that midnight-black hair anywhere. She stopped, suddenly unsure, instantly giddy. How ludicrous.

This was a mistake. Rising to his stupid challenge, which she had to admit wasn’t even a challenge, marked a new low point in her self-esteem. Why did she let him get to her so bone-deep?

She almost turned to run. But Mac turned first. He scanned the lobby. His gaze passed right over her then stopped and returned.

The look of wonder that crossed his chiseled features sent Tracey’s heart skipping. It had been years since she’d seen that look, felt the power it evoked.

Time stood still. For several long seconds they stared at each other across the lobby. Tracey couldn’t make her feet work. She stayed rooted to her spot like a fifty-year-old tree in the hard ground.

Mac moved toward her, confident and powerful. She still couldn’t imagine him packed in an open-wheel race car. His dark eyes glittered as he approached and Tracey had never felt more scrutinized…or more beautiful. The combination made her dizzy.

“Hi,” he said. The low cadence of his voice sent a sweet chill down her back.

“Hi.” She hated this. This whole stupid, futile and fruitless situation.

“You look beautiful. Amazing.”

Tracey felt heat blossom in her checks. Fighting the embarrassment, she gave him the same once over he’d given her, taking in the black tailored tuxedo that made him look more like a movie star than a chief engineer. “Thanks. Thank you. So do you.” Damn, she’d just told him he was beautiful. Stupid. “So, what’s the surprise?”

Mac placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” He escorted her out the door where a black stretch limousine waited at the curb. A chauffeur opened the back door and Mac urged her inside.

“You rented a limo?” She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. It would’ve been nice if she’d been able to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Mac grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. “Ed thought it was a good idea,” he said as if needing the backup. “We wanted you to arrive in style.”

Tracey settled into the large seat and extravagant surroundings. “It seems a little excessive.”

Mac sat next to her, much too close next to her. This wasn’t a date after all.

“That dress is…” He stopped, seemed suddenly at a loss. His gaze took in every inch of her as he searched for words.

As much as she hated it, Tracey waited breathlessly for his opinion. “Yes?” she finally asked.

One corner of his mouth curved up. “It should be outlawed.”

Tracey wanted to respond with a smart remark, she wanted to make light of the night and the dress, but the flame in Mac’s eyes quieted her comeback.

She glanced at her lap and saw the slit on her right side revealed a long expanse of thigh. She adjusted her shawl to cover some skin, concentrated on the mini bar across the car and tried desperately to ignore the dozens of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She’d never felt this uncomfortable. By sheer force of will, she kept her head held high and her breathing steady.

Mac took her hand and held it between both of his. “You’re not nervous, are you?”

Terrified was a better word, but not because of the awards. “Yes, I guess I am. I’m not very good at these things.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said, squeezing her hand. The comforting gesture should’ve soothed her frayed nerves, but it didn’t. She was used to hard pats on the back, not a warm, strong hand around hers. “It’ll be a piece of cake. Like taking the track at sixty.”

An anxious giggle erupted from Tracey. “Hardly. For this you might have to chain me to the seat to keep me from running.”

“I could slice off a few of these seat belts and strap you down. You might enjoy it.”

A ferocious grin lit his face. The cleft in his chin did amazing things to her heart. God, he was gorgeous. She looked out the tinted windows. The night was going to be more torturous than she first thought. A boy’s club awards dinner with a man she was trying her damnedest not to like.

She made it to the event, even let Mac pull her chair out at the table. Thousands of twinkling lights from the chandeliers lit up the banquet room, making Tracey more aware that she’d put herself on display.