Dangerous Race (22 page)

He laughed, but it was forced. “I’m not driving, Trace is.”

“I know, but you’ve been working all day, and…playing all night. I don’t want to get blamed for making you…” She closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to get in trouble at work.”

The smile disappeared from his lips. He stared her down. He opened his mouth to ask her the question on his mind, but the revolving doors opened with a whoosh and her friend, Kim, came through like a tornado, swirling up energy with every step she took. The door spit out a man right on her heels, big and imposing, wearing an expensive suit and enough gold to weigh down an elephant.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you,” he shouted.

Kim shook her head and faced him. “No, you’re not,” she seethed. “You’re not talking to me and I’m certainly not talking to you.” She turned but he leapt forward, grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Obviously skunked out of his mind, he had to steady himself. “You were talkin’ to me an hour ago,” he said, pulling her close against him. “You said we had an interestin’ night in fron’ of us.”

Kim’s hands fisted at his broad chest. “It might have been if you hadn’t embarrassed me in a crowd of people,” she gritted out. She tried to shove away from him but he held on tight. “Let go, you creep. Say good night and go screw yourself.”

But Big and Imposing smiled wider and held on tighter. “Your place or mine?” he asked.

Matthew grabbed Chelsea’s arm to keep her back. “Whoa, slow down. I’ve got it,” he said. Did she really think she was any match for this guy? He strode over to the behemoth.

“It’s not going to be either place, asshole. She told you to take a hike.” Matthew took Kim’s arm and eased her away from the guy. A closer look at Kim’s smudged makeup and bloodshot eyes told him she was almost as drunk as the idiot in front of him.

The smile faded and fury settled in the man’s eyes. “Why don’t you mind your own business, dickwad?” He moved toward Kim.

Matthew stood in his way. He heard a small gasp from Chelsea but didn’t take his gaze off the drunk in front of him. Man, the guy smelled like the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Although the jerk had two inches and thirty pounds on him, Matthew wasn’t worried. It wouldn’t take much to knock his lights out.

“She is my business,” Matthew growled. “She’s my sister.” What the hell—it sounded good.

Big and Imposing narrowed his eyes and shot a glance at Kim, deliberating for a few long seconds. He pointed his finger at her as he backed toward the door. “You’re a tease and a liar. I bet that whole story about making a fortune off o’ Trace Bradshaw is bogus too. Go to hell, lady. You’re not worth it,” he bit out. He turned and disappeared through the revolving door.

Matthew took in the words.
A fortune off of Trace Bradshaw.
So Chelsea had been using him this whole time? The horror in her eyes said it all. He didn’t have it all put together, but the implication that she might have something to do with the attempts against Trace sent anger and betrayal burning through him.

“Matthew, it’s not what you think,” she said, taking a step toward him. She looked at Kim, whose round eyes were moon-sized.

“If it’s not what I think, then tell me what it is.” he said. His brows came together as he neared her. “Because I’m thinking you used me from the beginning just to get to Trace. I’m thinking all this time we spent together doesn’t mean a damn thing to you. Christ, Chelsea, are you the one trying to knock Trace out of this race? Is that what that money exchange was earlier today? You’re not doing the dirty work yourself, but you’ll pay to have it done, is that it?”

All the blood drained from Chelsea’s face. “No, Matthew…my God, no. How could you even think that?”

“You tell me. Tracey shows up here for the first time in four years and someone tries to kill her. Then you—an exact double—show up out the blue, claiming to be her sister. Then I see you pay off some guy in the lobby and you don’t think that looks suspicious? What I don’t get is where’s the payoff for you? If she’s dead, there’s no money. You want Trace out of the way…but why?”

She blinked back tears, only Matthew didn’t know what was real anymore. “That’s not true.” Her voice cracked on the words.

“No?” Anger swirled deep in his gut and Matthew clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking. “Then what is the truth, Chelsea? What is the goddamn truth?”

“I hired a private investigator, okay,” she said desperately. “My mom told me I had a sister and I hired this guy almost a year ago to find her.” She swiped away a tear. “I sank thousands of dollars into finding her. I think Tracey is my sister, but I won’t know until we get a blood test.”

It wouldn’t be hard to check if Mr. Incognito really was a private investigator, but Matthew couldn’t let it go. “How do you make your fortune?” he asked. “Find your wealthy sister, sneak your way into a will, then knock her off for the money?”

Tears slid down Chelsea’s cheeks and she didn’t bother wiping them away. Maybe she knew the effect was better. “You son of a bitch,” she cried. “The only thing I’m guilty of is carrying my mother’s shame for abandoning my sister. This whole year I’ve been busting my butt to make money to find her. I’m not here to knock her out
or
off. I’m here to say I’m sorry. Sorry for what my mother—our mother—did to her.”

“It’s true, Matthew,” Kim said, finally jumping into the fray. “I wanted her to get in with Tracey for the sponsors and the potential—”

“Shut up, Kim,” Chelsea shouted. “It’s none of his business.”

“No,” Kim yelled back at her. “It was my idea. I kept pushing.” She turned to him. “And you know what? I had her thinking about it. I think she actually considered using Tracey for the possibility of gaining the business, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t. If you weren’t such a creep, you’d know that.” Kim stalked toward the elevators in a rage, leaving Chelsea with Matthew in the empty lobby.

Chelsea stood tall and leveled him with a hard stare. “I’m telling you the truth. I don’t care if you believe me or not. I think you don’t know me and you never wanted to know me. You look at me and see Tracey, so anything I say or do that doesn’t measure up to her isn’t good enough for you. Well you know what…you can go straight to hell, Matthew Rivers.” She turned and headed for the elevators.

Her words completely stunned him. So had Kim’s.

His stomach tied in knots. Matthew forced himself to consider all the possibilities. One, Chelsea was lying to him and out to get Trace, although he still couldn’t figure out a motive. Two, she was telling the truth about why she wanted to find her. Because, really, what would Chelsea gain with Trace dead or injured?

“Chelsea, wait!” Damn it. He wanted to believe her, trust her. Then it hit him. The thing that had him so turned around. If her story was as simple as she’d said, then why hide it from him? Why pretend not to know the private eye she’d hired. What was the secret?

He caught up to her and took her arm. “Hold on,” he said softly. Her tears killed him. “Hey, is that the truth?” He waited until she nodded her head. How could he not believe those devastated eyes? “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

Chelsea’s brows slanted in desperation. “I was afraid if you knew that I’d hired a detective, you’d think that I had ulterior motives and that’s exactly what happened,” she finished defiantly.

“I only thought that because you were so secretive tonight,” Matthew explained. “All you had to do was tell me the truth, Chels.” What was it about this woman that made him so out of control?

She had innocence in her striking blue eyes, a femininity that drove him wild. The tiny dimple in her right cheek. The way she moaned his name when he made love to her. All those things and a hundred others made her special.

His eyes widened. His heart tripped.

Had he fallen in love with her? Jesus, maybe he needed to step back and figure this out.

And what had she accused him of? “About the other thing…I don’t know how or where you got your information, but you couldn’t be more off the mark.” Her shining eyes met his gaze. He thought about the traits specific to Chelsea, everything that made her different from Trace. Aside from their obvious physical similarities and sense of humor, Chelsea and Trace were as different as night and day. He was still reeling that she’d used the word
hell.

“I have never once looked at you and seen Trace. Maybe on the first night, for the first few minutes,” he conceded, “but never after that.”

“Then why did you want me to pretend to be Tracey tonight when we met that other driver?”

“Is that what this is about?” He felt like shit. He never should’ve asked her to do it. “Chels, Derek Correlli is an asshole. I knew he was going to give you shit because he thought you were Trace, and I wanted you to do what she would’ve done and shut him down before he got started. You did. You were great. But you two are totally different women. I never looked at you and saw a sister.”

Chelsea stared at him so hard, Matthew thought she might be seeing into his soul. “Are you telling me that you only ever thought of Tracey as a sister?” she asked.

Matthew placed his hand on his chest. “Honest to God.” He couldn’t stop the grin from curving his lips. “From the instant I laid eyes on you in the bar, something happened inside of me.” He smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “I didn’t know why or what it meant, but even though you look like her, there’s something about you that does something to me.” Matthew patted his chest. “In here.”

Tracey’s tears had dried up a long time ago, but Mac still held her in his arms, still couldn’t believe that she’d actually broken down in front of him. He knew the beer was the catalyst but that didn’t change the fact that he’d seen Tracey’s vulnerable side up close and personal. The protectiveness he felt for her doubled in concentration.

After an eternity, she pulled away. Her sapphire-blue eyes watched him with new intensity. Different intensity.

Mac had kept his distance for three days but there was only so much he could take. Having Tracey in his lap, at his fingertips, had every cell in his body screaming for more. As desperately as he wanted to kiss her, he didn’t. Although she’d come alive under his touch, he still felt as if he’d forced the issue the last two times they’d been together. The only two times they’d been together.

As much as he wanted her now, he refused to take advantage of her sudden vulnerability. Had anyone else seen this side to her? The rare glimpse into unprotected blue eyes that tore him apart without even trying.

She traced a finger down the side of his face, soft and slow. Mac blinked and bit back the urge to groan. His groin tightened into a ball of fire and only Tracey could relieve the burn. Her finger stopped at the cleft in his chin. A tiny smile pulled at the corner of her lips. After a long look, she squirmed off his lap. Cold air invaded where once he’d been warm. The loss of her weight felt devastating, as if he’d lost a part of himself.

He wanted to pull her back. Needed to feel her against him. Instead, he sat and waited. Waited for her to ask him to leave…or ask him to stay.

What she did do nearly killed him. She turned on all the lights and began unbuttoning her baggy, hip-hugger cargo pants. The brightly lit room wouldn’t camouflage any scars. She didn’t look at him, but determination settled in her eyes. Her courage sent an arrow of pain through him so hard and fast he could barely breathe.

She turned slightly as she pushed the pants over her hips and down her legs. White lace underwear contrasted against her smooth olive skin and Mac’s mouth watered as he stared at the lean body in front of him. She took a steadying breath and turned, exposing her scarred leg, standing in front of him with a stomach-baring T-shirt, a scrap of lace and all the valor of a platoon of soldiers.

Mac couldn’t move his gaze from her eyes. Knew he was supposed to look at her scar, but at that moment he couldn’t have cared less about it. There wasn’t anything in the world that could change the way he felt about her.

The strain in her eyes began to show. Her hands trembled at the effort of exposing her body. Mac’s curiosity finally won out. That and he couldn’t intentionally put Tracey through any more emotional stress.

One instant he was looking in her eyes and the next, her leg. And the scar. The long, thick indention looked as if someone had carved out a chunk of her leg then tried to pull it back together again with the insides missing. Skin pulled tight in some places, making it look painful, or at the very least, uncomfortable.

Mac tried to hide any emotion on his face. Tried not to give away the fact that it looked worse than he imagined. A quick glance to her eyes showed she noticed his reaction. A single tear streaked down her face as she bit her lower lip.

The need to comfort her pushed him off the bed. He knelt in front of her, her courage bringing him to his knees. He wrapped his hands around her small waist, pressed his cheek against her flat stomach and inhaled the lavender scent encasing her body. His lips brushed against her abdomen in a soft caress as his hands traveled down her hips and thighs.

She flinched as his hand brushed over the scar, but it didn’t halt his progress. Each hand grazed over each thigh, equally. Down and back up to cup her bottom and press her closer.

Mac traced the rim of her belly button with his tongue while Tracey’s warm hands curled in his hair, her breathing ragged above him. Desire coursed through his veins in waves, but the need to comfort her overrode anything else, especially any carnal craving he had.

He slid a fingertip along the lacy waistband, moved lower to the sensitive spot next to her hip bone, his lips and tongue circling, teasing and going progressively down.

Straight down to her scar.

Tracey must’ve realized where he was headed. She gasped and shoved away, but Mac caught her hand. Fear and longing mixed in her rounded eyes, conveying more than words ever could.

Slowly, he pulled her toward him, and slowly she came. He pivoted on his knees until she backed up against the bed, then he coaxed her to sit.

Mac moved between her legs, ran his hands along her arms. He studied the scar a little bit longer, intrigued at the intricate work that obviously went into saving her limb.

Tracey trembled under his scrutiny. “You haven’t said anything,” she whispered, staring intently at her lap.

Mac tipped her chin gently, forced her to look at him. Uncertainty gleamed in her eyes with a spark of dread. He had so much to tell her, so much to say, but he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t know how to ease the pain that weighed down her otherwise unstoppable character. He moved his knuckles under her jaw, stroked her smooth skin, ran his finger along the erratic pulse of a vein in her neck, down to the hollow near her collarbone. “This is one of my favorite spots,” he murmured.

She took in a ragged breath, her eyes glassy.

“Did you think I’d react like Eddie?”

Tracey’s chin quivered and Mac realized that was exactly what she feared. But she’d shown him anyway.

His gut tightened; his chest constricted the massive pounding of his heart. “I’m glad you trusted me.” He couldn’t disguise the raspy emotion of his voice. Didn’t try. “You keep trusting me with the most important things you have.”

“I do?” she whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he told her. Her gaze softened as though the wall she’d erected cracked down the center. “Lift your arms,” he ordered quietly.

Tracey’s pleading eyes begged for something. For him to stop or continue? He didn’t know. He got his answer when she raised her arms.

Mac lifted the T-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. The white lacy bra matched her underwear. It was as if she tried to keep her femininity a secret. He’d barely touched her but her dark nipples peaked tightly against the white lace, her body shouting for attention. He brushed his knuckles across both hardened tips then traced her cleavage with his thumbs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

She quit breathing. Stared at him with rounded eyes that called him a liar. Tears rimmed her lashes as she suddenly batted his hands away. “Don’t patronize me, Mac. I know exactly what I am and beautiful isn’t on the list.” She tried to move away, but Mac grabbed her wrists and pinned her still.

“You’re wrong, Tracey.” His quiet voice stilled her. “Look at me.”

She closed her eyes briefly before meeting his gaze. She’d repaired that crack in the wall between them, sure of his insincerity. Her blue eyes filled with defiance and challenge, the ever-present qualities of Tracey that attracted him.

“You have the most incredible blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

She blinked twice. Fast. But still, she sat on guard, her defenses in place.

“You look at me…and…” He shook his head slowly in awe. “I can’t think straight.”

Her chest rose and fell with a few shaky breaths. Her body relaxed the tiniest bit.

“Your hair is so soft.” He let go of her wrists and ran his fingers through her silky black hair. His large hands caressed her shoulders and continued down her arms to her thighs. “So is your skin.”

He kept touching her, softly stroking her legs and exploring her body in the light of the room. His gaze settled on her face and Mac traced her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “These lips,” he murmured. “All I want to do is kiss these lips, feel them open under mine.”

The defiance in Tracey’s eyes melted into a glazed sheen, but she shook her head absently, obviously not used to the words coming from his mouth. “But, my scar…” she breathed. A horrible haunting look crossed her features and tore Mac apart.

“Your scar doesn’t define you, Tracey. Your strength, fearlessness and character define you. Yes,” Mac conceded, “that scar is big and it’s a part of you for the rest of your life, but it only proves how much courage you have. It proves you’re alive.” God, he wanted her to believe him. “It doesn’t take away from your beauty, Tracey. It just adds to that fire you have…the fire to win and be the best.”

Mac pulled his hands away. No matter how much he wanted her, he couldn’t get past the feeling he wasn’t good enough for her.

Tracey’s brows pulled together before her jaw tightened. She took in several measured breaths. “That was good,” she said, nodding. “You almost had me. Right until the end when you couldn’t stand to touch me anymore.”

Mac took her wrists again and stopped her from standing. She’d completely misread his actions. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to touch you?” The intensity and force of his questions sent wisps of dark hair across her cheek.

“I think actions speak louder than words.”

That’s how it had always been with them. Their actions said what neither of them could verbalize.

If he left her now, he’d be no better than Eddie. Although Mac may not have been worthy of Tracey, his conscience refused to let any part of him resemble Eddie.

Tracey shook her head sadly. “I think you want to believe everything you told me, but—”

Mac kissed her just hard enough to shut her up. He released her wrists, slid his hands through her soft hair and held her head. Any doubts he might’ve had about whether she wanted this kiss disappeared when her mouth opened under the pressure of his lips, and her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

He’d never ached for anyone as much as Tracey. Her vulnerable side leveled him quicker than if she’d cut him down with a rifle. It was that part of her that was still so fragile.

Mac gave himself a new job. He’d make Tracey feel beautiful. He’d prove to her that she was worthy of someone’s love no matter what kind of scar marred her body.

He disengaged his lips from hers and heard the denial in her moan. He grazed a path down to the perfect spot between her neck and collarbone, still tasting the salt of her tears.

She tilted her head back and Mac groaned as her breasts grazed his chest. Needing to taste her, he made quick work of the front-closure bra and feasted on one dark peak, sucking her into his mouth. The sounds coming from her throat sparked a fire in his body. He pressed her back against the bed and his mouth descended farther. Down to her navel, down to the waistband of her stark-white lace underwear.

He teased the rim of her waistband with his tongue. Her hips came off the edge of the bed on a moan. More than anything he wanted to feel her do that same thing while he was on top of her. But he wouldn’t. Not tonight. This was about showing Tracey she was worthy.

Skipping over the underwear, he headed to that part of her she hated most. He kept his kisses, his tongue to the top of her thigh, slowly inching her underwear off until they hit the floor. His fingers caressed the jagged line along her leg as his lips trailed nearby.

A muffled sob surprised him and he looked up. Tracey had covered her face with her arm. His plan to show her he didn’t care about the mark backfired. Maybe the scar didn’t bother him, but she didn’t believe it. Time to abort and go to plan B. He eased her legs farther apart and began at her knee, working his way up on the inside.

Tracey’s cries disappeared, replaced with a sharp inhale. “Mac, you can’t.”

Mac reached the patch of curly black hair and breathed in her scent. “Yes, I can.”

She lifted her head in wide-eyed innocence. “But you ca…I’ve nev—”

He kissed her, separated her with his tongue and tasted her. Tracey all but came off the bed. Mac held her hips and kept a steady rhythm with his tongue, loving the sounds she made as he took her with his mouth. Her musky scent, her taste and those sweet moans turned him inside out. He was hard and desperate to sink inside her. But when her legs tightened around his face and her fingers clutched his hair, his need to take her all the way conquered all. He slid one finger into her slick heat, then two. All while his tongue stroked her into a burning ball of fire.

She writhed beneath him, called out his name as her body shattered, exploded around his fingers and shook until she lay limp on the bed. Her fingers loosened in his hair as he softly kissed her thigh.

Mac picked her up and eased her under the covers. He burned for her, but refused to give himself the pleasure her body could give him. In a couple of days, the race would be over and he’d be back to his business, away from the reminders of his cowardice.

Tracey’s heavy lids masked her blue eyes. “Mmm,” she purred, “are you going to come under these sheets and let me reciprocate?”

Mac brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. The thought of her going down on him sent a fresh wave of lust below his belt. “Why don’t you take a little nap and we’ll continue where we left off.” With all that beer in her system, once she went to sleep, she’d be out for the night.

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, he looked deep into her mesmerizing blue eyes. “Yeah.” He kissed her forehead and let his lips linger against her warm skin before pulling away. Her lids drifted closed and her breathing steadied. He quashed the urge to run his fingers along her jaw one last time. The knot in his stomach twisted painfully.

The last two times they’d had this kind of encounter she’d made it clear she didn’t want a morning after. Instead of putting her in the awkward position she obviously hated, Mac went to his room, closing the adjoining door between them with soft finality.

A hard insistent knock at the door woke Mac the next morning. A shaft of sunlight peeked through thick curtains. He glanced at the clock and rolled onto his side, quietly cursing the moron on the other side of the door. His restless night had ended about forty minutes ago when he’d finally fallen into a dead sleep.

Half a dozen different times during the night, he’d wanted to open the damn adjoining door and lie down next to Tracey. Hell, he’d wanted to do more than that. He’d wanted to feel every inch of her smooth skin, kiss those full lips and run his hands through her silky hair, then bury himself deep inside her. But he’d forced himself to stay put.