He laughed. “I’ll see you later. I think your centerfold looks like she wants to talk to you.”
FIVE
GRAY LOOKED OVER TOWARD THE STANDS. EVELYN HAD gotten up and now leaned against one of the flagpoles.
He really wished Ian hadn’t called her a centerfold. She had an arm casually wrapped around the flagpole, and his mind swam with visions of her naked and doing a slinky pole dance.
His cock tightened and he realized he liked her a lot better when he was raging and pissed off at her rather than thinking about her as beautiful or sexy or, God forbid, centerfold material. Which was completely inappropriate since he was working with her in a professional capacity and shouldn’t be objectifying her by fantasizing about her and the flagpole.
Then again, when had his dick ever been appropriate? He probably got that from his father, which made him feel even worse.
She walked toward him. He met her halfway.
“I’m really sorry,” she said before he could even open his mouth to apologize for acting like such an asshole and going off on her. “You’re absolutely right. I got ahead of myself and posted something without your input. I’ve removed it and it won’t happen again.”
Well, hell. “You know, between you and Donny, you’re both ruining my righteous speech-making abilities today.”
Her lips curved. “You can go ahead and make your speech. I won’t mind.”
“I’ll save it for another time when you piss me off.”
“You’re thinking there’ll be another time.”
“I’m sure of it. And apology accepted. I need a drink. Let’s go to my trailer.”
She walked in step beside him. “That’s not really a trailer, Gray. It’s more like a complete house on wheels.”
He held the door for her and she stepped in. “It has to be. During the racing season we spend so much time on the road we rarely get home. This is comfortable and I hate hotels.”
He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottled water, then turned to her. “You want one?”
“Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”
He grabbed another and handed it to her as he slid onto one of the sofas. “You don’t always have to be so formal, Evelyn. If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next few months, you’re going to have to chill a little.”
She unscrewed the top and took a sip. “I don’t really chill. Besides, this is work for me.”
“Yeah, well, racing is work for me. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”
“I do enjoy my work. Very much. I just take it seriously.”
She was serious. And too formal. He was going to have to lighten her up. Maybe when he went home, which couldn’t be soon enough for him. “So tell me what the next steps are.”
“Well, now that word is out—and again, I’m sorry about that—we need to do some rallying of your fans, make sure they get to know the senator and your connection to him. On your terms, of course.”
“Okay. And how would you suggest doing that?”
She pulled open her laptop. “You could start mentioning him on your social media accounts. And of course, being seen in person with him would be very helpful.”
He sighed. His mother had asked if he’d spend the Fourth of July with them. He preferred limiting the time spent with his father to as little as possible, usually at family events and only when his mother commanded. He never attended political functions.
This was going to be a nightmare.
“We’ll do the Fourth of July thing my mom mentioned.”
“The one at your family’s home?” She smiled. “That’s great. I’ll make arrangements.”
“I have a race that week so it’ll have to be a fly in and out thing. And I want to spend one of those days at home, so I mean it when I say I want to spend as little time with my father as possible.”
“No problem. I’ll take care of everything. Let me pull up your schedule.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “You have a race in Daytona the weekend after the fourth, is that correct?”
“Yeah. So we’ll be running practices, but everyone will get a few days off.”
“Okay.”
Within ten minutes she’d made arrangements. “Okay, that’s done. I’ll alert your father’s private secretary that you’ll be at the family home. If you could give a speech —”
“No. Photographs with him will be enough, won’t they?”
“You don’t want to speak?”
He let out a short laugh. “No. I don’t want to speak.”
Evelyn let out a resigned sigh. “All right. Then photos will do. Now, on to the social media aspect. We can promote this visit home. You can upload photos on Facebook and Twitter, talk about visiting with your parents—”
“Yeah, I don’t really do that.”
“I’ve noticed. For someone with your popularity, your social media accounts are rather threadbare. You could gain a lot more fans if you were more active. I can work with you on that. I’m part of your father’s social media team. I’m very adept at that sort of integration.”
That’s what his sponsors had talked to him about, but hell, he was too busy running his business and racing cars to invest a lot of time in social media. “It’s something I planned to work on. I just haven’t had a lot of extra time.”
“I can help you. Why don’t you give me access to your social media accounts and I can take care of it for you. I promise not to upload anything without you approving it first. I know you’ll be busy and you won’t want to deal with the minutiae.”
“That’s fine.” He gave her passwords to his accounts, then stood. “I’ve got work to do. You get started on that.”
She looked up at him. “Where to now?”
“I’ve got meetings.”
She grabbed her laptop. “Can I come along?”
“It’s mostly boring car stuff.”
“I don’t find it boring at all. I have a lot to learn and I’d really enjoy sitting in, if you don’t mind.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
*
BY THE END OF THE DAY, EVELYN HAD LEARNED ONE thing—there was a lot more to being a car owner and a driver than just writing the check and getting behind the wheel. There were meetings and phone calls with sponsors and talking to crew. After that came working with engineers and discussions about engines and body design followed by the selection of paint schemes and so many other things her head spun.
Her fingers and shoulders were sore from all the notes she’d made today. It was a good thing she had an above average intelligence and could absorb a lot of what she’d learned in a hurry. Which was what had made her an invaluable asset to Senator Preston’s team, and would serve her well getting up to speed on Gray Preston, owner of and driver for Preston Racing.
She had made her way back to Gray’s trailer while he went to yet another meeting with his crew to discuss some oil pressure problem with Donny’s car. They had gotten deep into mechanical issues, so she decided to take this time to organize her notes and develop a social media plan for him.
She was fully into her outline when she heard a knock at the door. Since this wasn’t her trailer, she debated whether or not to acknowledge the knock, but finally got up and went to the door.
A beautiful young woman was at the door. And she looked decidedly pissed off.
“Gray’s not here. Are you looking for him?”
“Damn straight. Where the hell is he?”
“In a meeting.”
The woman frowned. “Who are you?”
“I’m Evelyn Hill. And you are?”
“Stacie. I’m Donny’s girlfriend.”
“Oh. Would you like to come in?”
“I guess.” She brushed past Evelyn, the scent of something strawberry filling the room as she turned and crossed her arms. “Do you know where Donny is?”
“I’m afraid not. Is there a problem?”
“Yeah, a big one.” She looked around, and Evelyn could tell Stacie was highly upset. She sure was pretty, with long dark hair that spilled down to her waist and the most unusual gray eyes. She was slender, wearing short shorts and a belly-baring tight top that made Evelyn envious since it was very warm outside today.
“Why don’t you have a seat? Would you like something to drink?”
“Is there any pop in the fridge?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll look.” Evelyn went to the refrigerator. “Diet or regular.”
“Regular is fine.” When Evelyn brought a can along with a glass filled with ice, Stacie gave her a once-over. “You’re nice. Not at all like the chicks Gray usually dates.”
“Oh, we’re not dating. I’m working for him.” She wondered what kind of “chicks”
Gray dated. Not that it mattered to her on a personal level, but image was everything in politics. She’d have to do some research into his social life.
“No wonder you’re so nice. And you’re pretty, too.”
Evelyn arched a brow. “Thank you. I assume the women Gray dates are pretty, too.”
Stacie shrugged and poured her soda into the glass. “If you like the trashy pit viper type.”
“Trashy?”
“You know. He has a thing for blondes with huge tits.”
“I see.”
“He doesn’t keep them very long. I think he picks them out just to get laid, and then they’re on their way.”
Well, wasn’t she refreshingly honest. Either that or she liked to gossip. “So, Stacie, do you live around here?”
“I live with Donny, who’s a giant pain in my ass right now. I should have known better than to agree to follow him on the circuit this season. I could have done another semester of school instead of putting up with his shit.”
“School being college?”
Stacie laughed. “Of course. Why, do I look underage?”
“Kind of.”
“That’s funny. I get that a lot, I guess because I’m kind of short and skinny. I’m twenty-two, though. I’ll be twenty-three in a few months.”
“I’m relieved to know that.”
“I like you—Evelyn, is it?”
“Yes.”
“And how old are you, Evelyn?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Married?”
“Single.”
Stacie took a couple drinks of her soda, then leaned back against the booth and glanced at Evelyn’s laptop. “What kind of work are you doing for Gray?”
“Actually, I work for his father, Senator Mitchell Preston.”
“Is that right? And you’re working for Gray now, too? That’s so . . . interesting. Is Gray getting involved in his dad’s campaign? Because I know he’s not leaving racing to run for congress or anything.” Stacie leaned forward, a worried expression on her face. “He’s not, is he?”
“That’s really not for me to say.”
“Good answer,” Stacie said with a grin. “Makes me miss school and all the public relations courses I took. Which, if I hadn’t agreed to accompany my moron of a boyfriend this year, I could still be taking.”
“Is that your field of study?”
“Yes. Public relations and marketing. Which would be a perfect degree to assist Donny. If I don’t dump him first.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“You could say that. He often has his head up his ass.”
“That’s pretty vague, Stacie. Would you like to talk about it in specifics, or would you like me to mind my own business?”