In High Gear

  IN HIGH GEAR

  Gina Wilkins

  TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

  AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

  STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

  PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

  In loving memory of my mother, Beth Vaughan,

  always my inspiration.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE HAD TO BE THE LUCKIEST man on earth, Kent Grosso mused as he straightened the knot in an expensive red silk tie he wore with a crisp white shirt and an immaculately tailored dark suit. He had the career of his dreams, his first NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship trophy, a wonderfully close and supportive family and an amazing girlfriend. Some people had suggested that Kent led a charmed life, and he was inclined to agree.

  Stepping back, he gave a last cursory check to his appearance in the mirror on his dressing room wall. Brown hair neatly combed, face closely shaved, suit pressed and lint-free. He should pass muster at the party later that evening. There seemed to be a never-ending string of social events during the three months between race seasons. Especially now, just over a week before the new season began.

  As defending NASCAR Sprint Cup Series champion, Kent had a dizzying number of professional obligations lined up for the next weeks, but he wasn’t complaining. This was what he’d worked for since he’d been little more than a toddler following in his father’s footsteps. His only regret was that his dad hadn’t yet won a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship. Still a competitive driver at almost forty-nine, Dean Grosso had never finished a season number-one in points, though he’d come heartbreakingly close a time or two. This year’s top finisher would be given the title of NASCAR Sprint Cup Champion, and Dean was determined to win that honor.

  Pushing his dad’s racing history to the back of his mind, Kent walked to the dresser in his brown-and-black decorated bedroom and opened a top drawer. He pulled out a small royal blue velvet box and held it in his palm without opening it. He didn’t have to see the diamond-and-platinum ring to visualize it; he’d studied it often enough, trying to decide exactly when to present it to Tanya.

  He’d had his share of girlfriends during his thirty years, but this was the first time he’d actually considered asking someone to marry him. He’d never felt as strong about any of those women who had come before her. He’d never envisioned himself giving up his bachelor-hood for them, or raising a family with them, or growing old with them.

  He pictured all of those things when he thought of Tanya Wells.

  Slipping the ring box into the inner pocket of his jacket, he swallowed hard as he decided that tonight could be the night. He was getting tired of waiting for just the right moment. He wanted to see that diamond glittering on her left hand. He’d be the proudest man in the world to call her his wife, he thought with a smile that just might look sappy had anyone been around to see it.

  He was ready too early. Restless, he paced through his townhouse apartment, too aware of the silence in the spacious rooms. Though many of the other drivers lived in spacious mansions, he’d kept his luxury apartment because he hadn’t been home enough to make a house seem worth the effort just for himself. It would be different after he was married.

  He and Tanya would have to start talking about a house once they were engaged, he thought. Maybe she’d like to have one designed and built to her specifications. Lakefront and golf-course homes were popular with the other drivers, though he’d always thought a mountain retreat would be nice for himself for those very few weekends he had free.

  He still had fifteen minutes before he needed to leave, he noted with an impatient glance at his watch. To kill time, he sat at his computer and logged on to his e-mail account. Might as well check to see if there were any messages he needed to respond to before he headed out.

  TANYA WAS BARELY READY in time for her date with Kent. She’d had a long day of meetings and paperwork, and an appointment with her hairdresser, who’d been running behind schedule that afternoon. She glanced at her watch as she slid her feet into fashionably uncomfortable heels. Five minutes to spare before he was due to pick her up. She congratulated herself even as she checked a full-length mirror to make sure she hadn’t donned her black and silver pants outfit backward or anything in her haste to get dressed.

  Heavens, she was tired. It had been a very long day, after a late night the evening before.

  This was the third party she had attended with Kent since Christmas, including a big New Year’s Eve bash. She’d thought her socialite mother attended a lot of parties, but that was before Tanya had gotten involved with a NASCAR racing champion.

  Funny, she thought, applying a finishing touch of silver-red lip gloss to her mouth. She hadn’t known much about NASCAR before she’d met Kent, though her brothers had been casual fans for years. If she’d thought about it before, she would have assumed a driver’s only responsibility was to sit behind the wheel of a race car and try to beat all the other drivers to the finish line each week. Now she knew how much more there was to the job, especially these days.

  Between meetings with sponsors and associates and fan clubs and media, filming television ads, posing for publicity photos, testing at various tracks, and a hundred other daily obligations, Kent barely had time to breathe. Especially during the racing season, which would begin again in just over a week. He managed to make the most of his free time, being an avid boater and hiker and biker—all things Tanya had learned to enjoy doing with him—but that free time was all too rare.

  Through Kent and his racing friends she’d met quite a few women who had wanted a lot more time and attention than their boyfriends in the racing world had been able to give them, leading to a few unhappy breakups. Fortunately, she and Kent had found a comfortable rhythm between their personal lives and professional obligations. She enjoyed every minute she spent with him, but she also had a richly fulfilling career of her own. As far as she was concerned, they were perfect for each other.

  The doorbell rang and she rushed to answer it, a smile already spreading across her face. She opened the door to find Kent standing on the other side. Even though they had been together almost two years, her heart still tripped at the sight of him. She wondered if there would ever come a time when she did not react that way.

  “Hi.” She lifted her face for his greeting.

  “You look beautiful,” he murmured, and then proceeded to kiss away every bit of the lip gloss she had just applied.

  By the time he drew back, they were both breathless and laughing.

  “Are you sure we have to go to this thing tonight?” Kent asked wistfully. “We could always stay in….”

  She lifted a hand to caress his close-shaven cheek. “As tempting as that sounds, we can’t. This is your thing tonight, remember? I don’t think your sponsor would be happy for you to skip out on it.”

  He groaned and caught her hand, holding it against his face for a moment before reluctantly lowering it. “You’re right, of course. But I would much rather stay here with you.”

  “I’ll second that wish, but we have to go now, or we’ll be late.”

  His fingers tightened around hers for a moment, his gaze intent on her face. “Tanya—”

  After waiting for a few moments for whatever he had intended to say, she prodded, “What?”


  He hesitated another beat, his expression conflicted, and then he smiled crookedly and shook his head. “It can wait. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her one more time, then took a resolute step back. “Okay, I’m as ready now as I’m going to be. Let’s go.”

  “YOU ARE PROBABLY the luckiest woman in the room tonight,” Melissa Cassidy, a junior vice president for Kent’s primary sponsor, Vittle Farms, murmured to Tanya later that evening, after several hours of dining, dancing and schmoozing.

  Tanya smiled across the tiny table at the other woman, a plump, pretty redhead. “I’m not going to argue. I feel lucky tonight.”

  They both looked across the room, where Kent stood talking to his car owner, multimillionaire Dawson Ritter, and Chester Honeycutt, the CEO of Vittle Farms. An organic-foods distributor, Vittle Farms had been Kent’s primary sponsor for several seasons. They’d considered him well worth the expense all along, since he was particularly good at promoting his sponsor in every interview and personal appearance. Now that he’d won a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship, he was even more the golden boy to this crowd.

  “He’s so hot,” Melissa murmured, practically licking her lips as she studied Kent. “I’d settle for someone half as good-looking and interesting, but all I’ve dated lately are frogs.”

  “Trust me, I’ve been way too involved with a couple of frogs, myself,” Tanya replied with a sympathetic smile. She couldn’t help thinking of her last serious relationship, which had imploded very painfully when she’d learned that Michael had been unfaithful to her almost from the beginning.

  He had been the most charming, personable and skilled deceiver she had ever encountered, and she’d been young, impressionable and too trusting. She’d fallen hook, line and sinker for his spiel—until a couple of her best friends had finally arranged an intervention of sorts and had opened her eyes to the truth. Her pride had been shattered and her heart bruised, but she’d emerged from the experience with a new maturity and strength. She wanted to believe that she would never be that gullible again. “I’d all but quit looking for a prince when I met Kent almost two years ago.”

  “Well, maybe there’s hope for me yet.” Melissa shook her head, causing the glittering green earrings dangling from her lobes to sway. “Still, I don’t think I’ll ever be as lucky as you are. You and Kent are so perfect together.”

  The words were eerily close to what Tanya, herself, had been thinking earlier. And all of a sudden they made her a bit nervous, almost as if she were afraid something would jinx the very special relationship she had with Kent. After all, she had thought Michael was perfect, too, she remembered with a hard swallow.

  But that was silly, of course. She wasn’t at all superstitious. She and Kent really were great together. He was nothing at all like Michael. As Melissa had said, Tanya was the luckiest woman in the room.

  IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL NIGHT, if frosty. Their breath hung in the air when they walked to Kent’s car from the ballroom where the party had been held. Kent opened Tanya’s door for her, then waited until she was tucked into the passenger seat before closing it and walking around to the driver’s door.

  “Feels like snow,” he said, putting the car into gear. “Wouldn’t be surprised if it fell before morning.”

  Tanya rested her head against the high back of the seat, her voice just a little weary-edged. “There’s only a thirty percent chance.”

  “You mark my words.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  He glanced her way, his throat tightening when he saw her smiling gently back at him. She’d always considered herself no more than girl-next-door cute, but to him she was beautiful. He’d thought so from the first time he’d laid eyes on her.

  Maybe tonight was the night to ask her to be a part of the rest of his life, he thought, thinking of the diamond ring that was now locked safely in his glove box. “Tanya—”

  But no. Not while he was driving. Not when he couldn’t even take her in his arms if she said yes. He bit back the words he was growing more impatient by the minute to say.

  “Mm?” She lifted her eyelids, making him realize for the first time how sleepy she looked.

  “Um…nice party, wasn’t it?”

  “Mm-hm.” Her eyelids grew heavy again. “I liked chatting with Melissa. She thinks you’re hot, by the way.”

  He grinned. “And what do you think?”

  “I think you don’t need me stroking your ego tonight.”

  Laughing, he replied, “Maybe we can find other things for you to stroke, instead.”

  “Behave yourself.”

  She sounded as if she could fall asleep right there in his car. “Long day?”

  “Very. I worked with two Bridezillas and their mothers today. Very stressful.”

  “No kidding.”

  Tanya was a highly sought after wedding and special-events photographer. She didn’t accept a great many assignments, being what he’d always thought of as a trust-fund baby from a wealthy background, but word of mouth had made her “the” photographer to book for society weddings in North Carolina and surrounding states. She’d even started getting requests to fly to other areas to shoot weddings—one as far away as Hawaii. That one she had decided to accept.

  He and Tanya had met when he’d been a groomsman in a wedding she was shooting. He’d asked her out before the happy couple had even tied the knot. She’d finally accepted sometime during the reception, though she had informed him that she didn’t usually mix business with pleasure.

  They had been mixing both quite well ever since.

  He walked her to her door, then left her there with several long, hungry kisses. She asked him in, but he told her she needed to rest. She had another long day scheduled tomorrow, beginning with an early meeting. Knowing that, he made himself leave, before his willpower slipped away.

  He wanted her completely awake when he finally asked her to marry him, he told himself as he drove home alone. He wanted everything to be perfect.

  He could wait.

  KENT WAS IDLY CHECKING his e-mail again on the last Friday prior to the beginning of the new season. He found the usual notes from friends that he would respond to later, some charity solicitations he would forward to his PR people, a couple of annoying spam messages he deleted unread and an item from an address he didn’t recognize. He started to delete that one, too, but something about the subject line caught his attention. Y U left State U.

  A chill slithered down his spine.

  Telling himself not to jump to false conclusions spurred by a guilty conscience, he opened the disturbing e-mail. He hoped his virus protection was doing its job. The first cursory scan of the message caused his shoulders to sag and his heart to sink.

  He thought of his mother, who was so proud of all he had accomplished during the past couple of years. And his rigidly ethical, long-time NASCAR driver dad, for whom any hint of cheating was enough to cause a righteous lecture about integrity and honor.

  And then he thought of Tanya, the daughter of a hard-nosed district attorney and an old-money socialite philanthropist. Tanya, the most scrupulously honest, fiercely law-abiding woman he’d ever met.

  He hid his face in his hands.

  THERE WAS NOTHING TANYA usually enjoyed more than a big meal at Villa Grosso, Kent’s family home, more informally known as “the farm,” located just outside Mooresville, North Carolina. She loved the Grosso family, and usually had a ball at their famous Italian feasts, but something was off this time. She wished she could put her finger on exactly what it was.

  Though the Grossos would host a party for just about any reason, this family-centered luncheon feast was an annual event held on the first Saturday of each February to kick off the start of the new season. Later in the season, there would be bigger, noisier bashes attended by car owners, crew chiefs, and other top team members for both Dean and Kent, PR people, sponsor representatives and other special guests. Today the only non-Grosso in
attendance other than Tanya was Heidi Kramer, Kent’s cousin Steve’s girlfriend.

  Kent’s great-grandfather, Milo, had been with NASCAR since its inception. He’d never won a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship, but had racked up his share of wins, once finishing second in points. Both Milo and his grandson, Dean, had been thrilled when Kent won the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship last season, but Dean was now even more determined to join his son on the list of champions before he gave in to his wife Patsy’s increasingly outspoken desire for him to retire.

  Tanya studied Dean and Patsy closely, trying to decide if, as Kent had mentioned, there was a hint of tension between them on the verge of another long, grueling season. But if there was a problem, they weren’t letting it show.

  Milo, the family patriarch, seemed to be doing pretty well for a man in his early nineties who had recently suffered a couple of mini strokes. Small and wiry, he stood close to the massive stone fireplace in the spacious den where most everyone had gathered, entertaining anyone who would listen with stories about his years of racing and mingling with the legends of NASCAR past.

  His wife, Juliana, known to both family and friends alike as Nana, was in the kitchen putting the final touches on her big Italian feast, but she would be out regularly to make sure Milo was getting along well. To his exasperation, Juliana kept close tabs on her aging husband, a silent expression of the love that had sustained them for forty-seven years, ever since she had married the widower who was fifteen years her senior.

  Milo and Juliana had raised Dean and his brother, Larry, from the time they were small boys when their parents had died tragically in a flash flood while camping. Their father, Alfonso, had been Milo’s son from his first marriage. Juliana had taken the orphaned boys in as her own, dealing with their grief and her husband’s loss, raising them with love and laughter and discipline—and lots of Italian cooking. No one could resist Juliana’s charms for long, and Tanya had fallen as hard as everyone else.