Dangerous Race (11 page)

First Eddie offered to take her and now Mac. Maybe the planets were realigning. “Thanks, but I don’t have an outfit. I still can’t go.”

“But you were supposed to go with Joe—”

“I was going to buy something while I was here and once Joe died…well, I honestly forgot all about it.”

“You’ll have time tomorrow after practice. Run out, find a dress, and I’ll scrounge up a tux. We’ll go to the awards together.”

“A dress? You want me to wear a dress?” She clamped her mouth shut before revealing too much. Joe would’ve known she couldn’t wear a dress, but Mac…How was it that he knew how to press every one of her buttons?

“Uh…why wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe I don’t wear dresses. Maybe they don’t look good on me.” Could that have sounded more stupid?

Mac’s eyes widened. “Tracey, you’re beautiful, you have a great body, why wouldn’t you…Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Wear what you want. That’s not the point. The point is to go.” He settled back down, but tension between them radiated like an electrical spark.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Tracey held in her anger. Wear a dress.
Wear a dress!
As if she had normal legs. She wanted to reach over and strangle him. She counted to ten and tried to relax. Maybe she
should
wear a dress, just to scare the hell out of the man. That would teach him to spout off.

Unwanted tears stung her eyes. She hadn’t worn a dress in four years. As much as she loved her car and racing, she’d also loved showering off the grime and transforming into a woman. Granted, at eighteen and nineteen, she’d still been really young, but she’d loved watching the men’s eyes when the transformation had been complete.

Those days were gone forever. Unless…

The following afternoon, a knock at the office door took Tracey out of the endorsement contract in her hands. Not that she’d been able to concentrate on a word of it. She couldn’t get Mac’s deep gray eyes out of her mind or forget the way her body tingled at his one light touch the night before.

Sharing a yoga pad with him had been a colossal mistake. Sleeping had been close to impossible. The heat of his body and the smell of leather had been an aphrodisiac she didn’t want or need. She should’ve thought about that before she’d made her offer.

Matthew stuck his head in. “You got a minute?” he asked. His inquiring gaze reminded her of something she’d forgotten.

Her “twin.” Right. This probably wouldn’t fix the pissy mood she’d been in since last night, but it might take her mind off it. “Sure, what’s up?”

Matthew gestured someone forward. As he came into the office, Tracey deposited her bubble gum in the trashcan under the desk. When she looked up, she had to blink. Several times. For an instant, her whole world spun off-kilter.

She stood and stared at the woman in front of her. Wearing a short yellow sundress with a matching cropped sweater, the lady had Tracey’s exact features. Put her in Tracey’s unruly ponytail and trademark khaki pants and it’d be nearly impossible to tell them apart.

“Tracey Bradshaw, this is Chelsea Harding. Chelsea, meet Trace.” Matthew’s proud grin said he’d just unearthed the secret to life. Maybe he had…at least the secret to
her
life.

Chelsea stuck her hand out. “Hi, nice to meet you. I feel like a bit of an imposter. Everyone thinks I’m you.”

Wow. They shared the same voice too. Tracey shook her hand. “I don’t blame them. You could be me. Or maybe I could be you.”

“I think it works both ways,” Matthew threw in.

Glancing at Matthew, Tracey gestured him out. “Chelsea and I are going to talk. Go work on the suspension or something.”

“But I—”

“You thought you’d stay and have a twin fantasy, I know, but that’s not going to happen, so go play with the boys and we’ll see you in a little while.” Tracey gave him a little shove out the door and closed it firmly. She turned and couldn’t take her eyes off Chelsea. Her palms tingled. The resemblance was stunning.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Chelsea finally said.

Weird
couldn’t begin to describe it.

Tracey indicated the love seat, and they both sat. “Kind of eerie,” she replied.

Chelsea studied her carefully. “I guess Matthew told you that I saw your press conference. I didn’t want to say too much to him because this is a private thing for me. I know I’m jumping into this way too fast and I’m not giving you much time to…” She twisted her hands together in her lap. “God, I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind me asking…but were you adopted?”

“Yes,” Tracey said, ignoring the bubble of uneasiness growing in her chest. Anyone could’ve found out that information. She’d never kept it a secret.

Chelsea immediately covered her eyes with a hand as if the news was more than she could handle. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her shaky hand, her eyes glassy. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Tracey felt as if she hovered on some steep precipice, about to be unwillingly shoved over the edge.

Chelsea could barely talk as fat tears flowed down her cheeks. “I didn’t know you existed. She never told me.”

Nausea rose in Tracey’s stomach. “
She
never told you? Who is
she?
”

Chelsea found a tissue in her bag and wiped her nose. “My mother. Our mother.”

Tracey’s world tilted again and she calmed her frantic pulse with iron determination. Just because this woman looked like her didn’t make anything she said the truth. “So, you’re telling me that your mother, your birth mother, is also my mother?”

Several slow nods answered her question. “When were you born?” Chelsea asked.

Since her birth date was easily accessible in her bio, Tracey told her, “June seventh.”

“That’s mine too,” Chelsea said.

This all seemed too surreal. Tracey stopped her with finger in the air. “Slow down a minute. We need to backtrack here because you left me at the start. If your mom didn’t tell you about me, how did you find me now?”

“God, I know, this is so unreal. I’m going to dive in and tell you from the beginning.”

That sounded like a plan. Tracey nodded.

“By the time my mom was diagnosed with cancer just over a year ago, it had spread so much that doctors gave her three months to live.” Chelsea dabbed at her eyes. “She didn’t even make it one. Her dying words to me were, ‘I’m sorry, Chelsea, I should’ve told you this before. You have a sister.’ I barely heard her and I didn’t think she knew what she was saying, but she pulled me down to her and said, ‘I’ve been so ashamed my whole life. I left her behind. I left your sister behind.’” Chelsea’s eyes were filled with agony.

A sudden chill snaked down Tracey’s back. This couldn’t be happening now. Not when she had a race to focus on. She didn’t know this woman and couldn’t trust her story, but at the same time, the idea of having a real sister—a twin no less—made her hopes soar.

She had a million questions and at the moment couldn’t think of a thing to ask. Actually, one came to mind. “What…what was her name?” Tracey asked softly.

“Delilah,” Chelsea said. “Delilah Harding.”

A very pretty name for a lady who did a very ugly thing.

“Do we know…Do you know who your…father is?” That was a tough one she’d always wanted an answer to, but Chelsea shook her head.

“Daniel Harding was her second husband. He adopted me. When they divorced…” She shrugged and wiped her eyes. “I’ve always felt I was missing something in my life,” Chelsea said. “I always thought…I never felt whole.”

Tracey had to remember to breathe. After years of living with a foster family she never had any connection to, she already felt a stirring of emotion for the stranger in front of her. They’d hardly been in the room for ten minutes, but deep down her soul begged for the truth. “Okay,” she said. So what did they do first? “I guess a blood test would tell us for sure, right?”

“If you’re willing, I am,” Chelsea said. “I know this is a shock,” she hurried to say, “and I don’t expect you to become my best friend just because I’ve crashed into your life like this.”

Interesting choice of words. “No, no…it’s okay. I mean, if it’s true, we should find out.”

A long silence settled in the room as they studied each other. Had Chelsea’s life been better than hers? Had her mother spent time with her? Read her bedtime stories at night or held her during a storm?

“What about your parents?” Chelsea asked. “I mean, they never said anything to you about finding your birth mother?”

“My adoptive parents were killed in a house fire when I was two.” Tracey had no memories of them. She ignored a pang of loss at what might’ve been an idyllic childhood. “My dad got me out, but when he went back for…Well, neither one of them made it out, and everything in the house was destroyed. I went into foster care after that.”

Chelsea couldn’t have looked more devastated, but there wasn’t much Tracey could do.

“So did
Mom
say why she dumped me?” She hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but it was another question she’d always wanted answered. Chelsea’s face crinkled up and tears streamed down her cheeks as if she were responsible.

Tracey didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know what to make of any of it. Every possibility existed that the stranger next to her was her sister. With everything Tracey had going on, she needed this distraction about as much as a flat tire. But maybe it was what she’d been looking for all her life. Maybe Chelsea could fill the void in her heart and give her the family she’d always wanted.

Obviously this was a touchy subject for Chelsea. From the looks of it, maybe more so than for herself. “I’ll tell you what,” Tracey said, grabbing some extra tissues from her desk and handing them to Chelsea. “I won’t ask questions about Delilah. I’ll just ask questions about you. Fair?”

Chelsea nodded and took a deep breath.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago,” Chelsea said. “I grew up there.”

That was only several hours from Tracey’s hometown in Indiana. “What do you do in Chicago?”

“I have my own advertising company.” Chelsea shifted in her seat. “I have a business partner, but we’re pretty small.”

“Really?” Tracey’s spirits lifted. Her mind immediately shifted to business. “Are you any good? Because that’s what these products need most,” she said, indicating the paperwork on the desk. “A good advertising agency. These slogans suck. I can’t believe the crap they want me to say.” Sure, she needed the sponsors, but it would be nice if the ads were smarter. “Here, check some of these out.” Tracey grabbed a handful of pages from the out box and thrust them in front of her look-alike.

Oddly, Chelsea looked as if she swallowed a basketball. She stared at the pages as if they might bite. Maybe she was shy.

“Seriously, take a look,” Tracey urged.

Chelsea took the pages. “Are you sure? Because I wouldn’t want to cause any problems. You know, sometimes these things are confidential.”

Tracey leaned closer. “Confidentially,” she said straight-faced, “these suck. See for yourself.”

Scanning a page, Chelsea made a face. “Oh my God.
Royal Oil—it’s the best for your car.
This is so ordinary.” She glanced up quickly. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no. I agree,” Tracey said. “Completely ordinary. There’s nothing to lure a buyer.”

“Oil, huh?” Chelsea looked off at nothing, clearly searching for something. “Let’s see…there’s…” She trailed off, thinking. “No,” she mumbled, “that’s no good.” She blinked suddenly and turned to Tracey. “This is so easy. You hold the oil can and you stand next to your car. The logo says, Win the Race with Trace. That’s all it has to be. I could’ve come up with this in my sleep.”

“Oh my God.” Tracey sat up. “That’s wonderful.” She took the pages out of Chelsea’s hands. “It’s so simple, so perfect.” But using it would require stepping on a few sensitive toes. Her excitement faded. “There’s no way to change it all now. The whole campaign is set up.”

“Not necessarily,” Chelsea said. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to start from scratch at the last minute. The important thing is to pitch it and see if the client likes it. Then it’s a no-brainer for the agency.”

“Even so, I wouldn’t let you pitch this and let a different agency take the credit. That’s not fair. It’s your idea. If anything, you should get the account. In fact…”

Tracey reached for the phone and called her publicist, quickly explaining the situation. She hung up and turned to Chelsea. “She’s going to call the client.” Tracey shrugged. “It all depends on how happy they are with the campaign.”

Chelsea stood, clearly uncomfortable as she fiddled with the straps of her purse. “I wouldn’t expect them to change their minds. For all I know, someone came up the slogan and they batted it down. Anything’s possible.” She glanced around the office. “Look, I didn’t mean to use up your day and the last thing I expected was to talk business.”

“Oh, it’s all right. It was fun.”

A shy grin curved Chelsea’s lips. “I thought so too.”

Tracey almost didn’t want her to go, but she still had one more thing to do before tonight and time was running out. “I need to run an errand so I can walk you out,” she said, heading toward the door.

“So, about this blood test…” Chelsea said behind her. “Do you really want to do it?”

She had no reason not to. “Absolutely,” Tracey said.

Chelsea smiled hopefully. “I’ll set it up then.”

A tingling warmth seeped into Tracey’s chest as she grinned and nodded. “Okay.” She opened the door and saw that most of the crew was watching for her. Or maybe her look-alike. Or both.

“Well, if nothing else,” she said
sotto voce
to Chelsea, “we could have a great time confusing the men around us.”

Chelsea smiled and Tracey felt a lightheartedness that she hadn’t experienced in years, and never with another woman.

Matthew strode forward and took Chelsea’s hand as if he’d barely survived without her. “Hey,” he said, smiling that good-ol’-boy smile. “I was about to come in there and rescue you.”

“From me?” Tracey huffed, pretending to take offense. “I was doing my best to give her some space from you, but she insisted you weren’t being obnoxious, so…” Watching the emotion in Matthew’s eyes when he looked at Chelsea sent an unwanted pang of loneliness through Tracey.

“Stop fighting over me,” Chelsea admonished playfully. “I come in peace.”

Matthew whispered something in Chelsea’s ear and the blush on her face said it was a private matter. The sexual chemistry blazing between them was undeniable.

Despite the number of people in the garage, Tracey felt like a third wheel. “I need to get out of here,” she said. “I’ll see you all later.”

Chelsea tore her gaze from Matthew. “I’ll come with you. I need to meet my girlfriend and besides, I know Matthew has work to do. I don’t want to get him into trouble.”

“No worries there,” Tracey replied. “He gets into trouble real easy all by himself.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely time to break up this party,” Matthew said, playfully shoving Tracey forward. Then he kissed Chelsea, not just a see-you-later kiss, but an I-can’t-wait-to-take-off-your-clothes-
when
-I-see-you-later kiss. “See you tonight,” he said, and Tracey was sure she wasn’t supposed to hear the innuendo in his voice or see the lust in his eyes. A tug on her heart reminded her needlessly that she’d never elicit that kind of reaction from a man.

She turned toward her car and ran right into Mac.

Great.

She hated how her heart beat faster and the way her stomach coiled tightly. He was only a man. One that aggravated her to no end.

“Hi Trace—” He stopped and did a double take at Chelsea. “Wow,” he said. “You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

A sister. A real sister. The word hit her hard and briefly sent the air out of her lungs. “That’s because I didn’t know. I—we—still don’t know for sure. But we’re going to find out.” Tracey glanced at Mac. “Mac Reynolds, this is Chelsea Harding, advertiser. Chelsea Harding, Mac Reynolds, chief engineer.”

Mac stuck his hand out. “Matthew mentioned he’d met a Tracey look-alike but I didn’t believe you were really identical. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” Chelsea said, glancing at Matthew.

Mac looked between the two women, but his gaze ended on Tracey. Yeah, he was comparing them and she didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure who came out ahead. Chelsea knew how to put herself together. With clothes and makeup, she was one of those women who turned heads wherever she went. And her perfect legs screamed “look at us, we’re beautiful!” It didn’t matter that the two women looked alike. Chelsea had something about her, something Tracey hadn’t had since the accident.

“I hate to interrupt, but I need to talk to Matthew for a few minutes,” Mac said, heading toward the garage.

“He’s all yours,” Tracey told him. “We were just leaving.” This would be one of the few times she’d be out of Mac’s immediate vicinity and the feeling of freedom she expected didn’t materialize. Mac stood at the garage doors with Matthew, watching as they continued to their respective cars.

“He’s cute,” Chelsea whispered with a final glance at the men.

“Matthew’s been a cutie for as long as I’ve known him.”

“Yeah, Matthew’s great, but I was talking about Mac. That dimple is straight out of
GQ.
”

Tracey’s eyes widened. “I thought the same thing when I met him.”

“So what’s the deal with the two of you?”

The question stunned Tracey. “There is no deal. He’s the chief engineer. I’m the driver. Period.”

“Oh, sorry,” Chelsea said innocently. “It was…Well the way he looked at you just now, I thought…well, I thought…”

“I didn’t notice him looking at me. I thought he was looking at you,” Tracey corrected. Why wouldn’t he? Chelsea had more than one thing she didn’t.

Chelsea shrugged. “He was definitely looking at you.”

Okay, so maybe Tracey had assumed Mac’s thoughts. So maybe she’d glanced up to see him watching her instead of her sis—look-alike, but it didn’t mean anything. He’d no doubt compared the two; it was virtually impossible not to. Hell, even she was doing it and they just met.

Tracey groaned inwardly. Why did it make a difference what Mac thought? She so didn’t appreciate how he affected her even when he wasn’t around. She wanted to change the subject completely. There was so much she wanted to know about this woman. “So, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s up with you and Matthew? I know it’s none of my business, but is this just a fling for you or…”

Chelsea blushed and bit her bottom lip. “To be honest, I’m not sure what it is. Originally I thought he was a one-night thing, but it’s become a little more than that. Why?”

“Look, I’ve known him for a lot of years and he’s special. He’s sensitive. He’s not like most guys. I don’t want to see him…” Okay…way too much information. What Matthew did and with whom was none of her business. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Sorry. He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“How many years have you known him?” Chelsea asked.

“About ten.” Tracey remembered the day Matthew walked into Ed’s garage. She was a thirteen-year-old tomboy and he was an eighteen-year-old stud. “We hung out together at Ed’s track. Matthew, Eddie and me. Eddie’s the owner’s son. We were kind of the three musketeers.”

Chelsea’s head dipped sideways. “That’s all? Just Musketeers?”