“Working on an amended bio for you.”

“For?”

“I’ve already got some posts up about you.”

Irritation made his jaw clench. “Uh . . . posts? What posts?”

“The senator’s Facebook and Twitter accounts.”

When he didn’t say anything, she lifted her gaze to his over the top of her laptop.

“Problem?”

“Big one. Let’s get some rules down before we go any further. Rule number one: Don’t write anything about me or connect me to the senator in any way without me seeing it first.”

She leaned back in the booth. “I thought we’d already discussed this and it had been decided we’d work together. If I’m going to have to run everything by you, this is going to be difficult.”

“Then it’s going to be difficult. Show me what you’ve done and where you’ve posted it.”

She continued to stare at him, and her gaze narrowed in irritation. Tough. He didn’t like this already, and the fact that she’d put up some media bullshit about him pissed him off.

“All right. Give me a second here.” She turned her attention to the laptop, then swiveled it to face him. “It’s not much, just a general announcement that the senator is pleased to have his son working with him. It’s very vague.”

Gray read the post. It wasn’t vague. It connected him and his racing team to his father and his father’s political ambitions. It might as well say, “Gray Preston fully endorses his father.”

“Goddammit, Evelyn. This isn’t what I signed up for.” He stood and paced for a few seconds, then turned to face her. “Pull that shit off. Now.” He walked out of the trailer, fury boiling in his veins.

Without thinking, he headed toward the track, finding Ian waiting for him.

“You’re early.”

His teeth grinded against each other and he was ready to lash out, but his current state of mind wasn’t Ian’s fault. “I need to drive, now.”

Ian took one look at him, then looked behind him. Gray turned to see Evelyn heading in his direction.

Oh, hell no. He turned back to Ian. “Now. I mean right f**king now.”

“Sure.” Ian got on the radio to one of the other teams. “Hey, can we slide into your spot? Gray has a time conflict.”

In a few seconds, Ian nodded. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Get into your suit. Your car is ready.”

He got into his fire suit and climbed into his car, strapped in, and put on his helmet.

By the time he fired up the engine, he had an outlet for all this excess energy.

Getting behind the wheel and pulling out onto the track revved him up. Cranking up the speed made him forget everything but the feel of the track and testing the way the car handled.

He’d always been the most content when he was in his car. From the first time he’d climbed into one of his buddy’s midget cars on a dirt track, he’d been hooked. Only sixteen years old at the time, the roar of the engine, the smell of oil and fuel and dirt flying into his face had been a lure he couldn’t deny. He’d still been playing baseball at the time, with the promise of a sports scholarship and pressure from his father to pursue law and a future in politics. Under his father’s thumb and still tied to the Preston money, he’d toed the family line, but found every opportunity he could to race cars and learn about engines.

And still managed to piss off his father when he’d accepted the baseball scholarship to Oklahoma.

As he cranked up his speed heading around the track, he cracked a smile. Irritating his dad had always been one of his greatest pleasures. Maybe he could still find a way to do that. He might have agreed to help him, but he didn’t have to do it the Mitchell Preston way. He could control Evelyn and her laptop and he’d make damn sure nothing went onto the Internet that he didn’t want on there, worded exactly the way he wanted it.

This might be his father’s race, but they were going to play by his rules.

He downshifted around the curve, then laid on the throttle on the straightaway and gave the car everything he had on the last lap. By the time he began to slow down, the last of his adrenaline rush had burned itself out.

Now he had a plan, and his car was in good shape. He felt good about this race and the position of his race team. Of course this was only the first practice run, but he had to keep a positive outlook.

He climbed out and Ian fell in step with him as the crew took the car to the garage.

“Well?” he asked, his focus on the car and only on the car right now.

“Decent time and the car looked good. You ran it a little tight out there. You burning off some frustration?”

Ian knew him well, could always tell Gray’s mood from the way he drove. “Maybe a little.”

“What’s going on? And who’s the hot blonde?”

He blew out a frustrated breath, ready to climb into his Chevy again and do more laps, the only thing that could ease his irritation. “She works for my father.”

Ian stopped and stared at Evelyn, currently sitting in the front row of the stands, before turning his attention back to Gray. “No wonder you were so pissed off. What’s she doing here?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m listening.”

“I sort of agreed to help out my father’s campaign.”

Ian arched a brow. “No shit. Your dad dying or something? Because that’s the only reason I can think of that you’d bend to the old man’s will.”

Gray snorted. “No. Not that I’m aware of, anyway. He’s got a shot at the vice presidential nomination.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. And they think my fan base can make him look more attractive.”

Ian laughed. “I’m sure they could. What I want to know is why you give a shit.”

“My mom asked me to help.”

“Oh. That’s different.”

“Yeah.”

“And the hottie works for your dad?”

“Apparently she’s my liaison to my dad, so she’ll be with us for the time being.”

“Sweet, man. You could have gotten some old fat bald guy. Instead you get a centerfold. Not really a hardship, is it?”

“I can already tell she’s going to be a pain in my ass.”

Ian slapped him on the back. “Oh. Gee. I feel really sorry for you. Having to put up with looking at her every day.”

“Suck it, Ian.”

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 na**d and doing a slinky pole dance.

His c**k 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 as**ole 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.