Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Wendy Etherington was born and raised in the deep South―and she has the fried chicken recipes and NASCAR ticket stubs to prove it. The author of thirty books, she writes full-time from her home in South Carolina, where she lives with her husband, two daughters and an energetic Shih Tzu named Cody. She can be reached via her website, www.wendyetherington.com. Or follow her on Twitter @wendyeth.

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Risking Her Heart

HQN Books

She'd scooped up her long, dark hair into a twist at the back of her head, leaving her neck bare but for a few silky-looking tendrils brushing her shoulders. Her lips were pink and glossy; her skin glowed. She looked happy and relaxed, more than he'd ever seen her.

And tonight she'd belong to him.

His patience had come to an end?not that he'd ever had all that much to begin with. He was finished with letting her use her family or her work as excuses to dismiss or avoid him. He was tired of exchanging hot glances and having veiled conversations about the chemistry between them.

They were attracted to each other, and it was long past time to do something about it.

Weaving his way through the throngs of people, he told himself that surely, in such a public forum, she wouldn't outright ignore him.

Be cool, man. You seduce women as easily as you breathe. Why should this one be any different?

"Why indeed?" he whispered to himself as his heart went into a full gallop and Rachel Garrison turned toward him.

The bright smile on her face faded, became tight. Her light blue eyes frosted briefly, then cleared of any expression. She was trying so hard to convince him that he was a casual, sometimes annoying business acquaintance.

Or was she trying harder to convince herself?

Determined not to let her familiar reaction dissuade him, he handed her the glass of bubbly and smiled. "Good evening, Rachel." Anticipating a sarcastic comment, he added, "You look lovely."

She sipped from her glass and glanced around. "Thank you."

"I hear we're planning a wedding," he said, his gaze sliding to Cade and Isabel, who were standing a few feet away, wrapped in each other, seeming oblivious to the crowds of people around them and the fact that he was about to accept second place in the NASCAR Nationwide Series championship.

"Yeah. I hope he lets go of her long enough to give his speech."

Was he a masochist for so enjoying her dust-dry comebacks?

Staring at her profile and imagining sliding his finger down her satiny cheek, he shook his head. No, pleasure was the act that frequently came to mind around Rachel. "Well, aren't we bitter in the face of deep and abiding love."

"I'm not?" She sighed, then shook her head. "I'm thrilled for them. I've never seen Cade this happy. I'm just?"

"Cranky?"

She glanced at him, amusement flickering in her eyes. She was a smart woman, so she must appreciate intelligence in other people. Why hadn't she yet been wowed by his brain?

"I'm not cranky," she said. "Three-year-olds are cranky."

"Of course. Maybe you're just tired."

"No."

"Annoyed?" He grinned. "At me perhaps for anticipating your deep-seated need for witty conversation and refreshment, then generously providing both?"

Her smile broadened, then she shook her head. "Why do you always talk like you're trying to impress your 1930s Harvard economics professor?"

He toasted her with his glass. "Just one of those aggravating habits you could learn to love if you weren't always running the other direction every time you saw me."

She snorted in disbelief. "I don't run from you."

"I beg to differ, but I won't argue the point. You looked happy earlier."

"I was happy."

"Before you saw me."

She said nothing.

Ouch. "What is it about me that gets your back up so effortlessly?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Your fancy words and highbrow degree don't impress people. It pushes them away."

"And I was about to flash my mini diploma?the one I had laminated by the thousands to pass out as business cards." He raised his eyebrows. "Really, Rachel. That's the best you can do? You don't like me because of where I went to school?"

"Fine. If you really want to know. I think you're too arrogant, self-important, egotis?"

"Yes, I'm familiar with the meaning of arrogant." Frankly, he considered himself confident and very self-aware, not arrogant. Certainly not egotistical.

"You just might want to tone it down," she said. "Relax the proper manners a little." Her face flushed. "They make fun of you. The guys in the shop."

"Yes, I know."

"Like you're a modern-day Beau Brummell. Well, actually, I provided the Brummell part. They just know you don't fit in."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He'd always gotten along much better with women. They all wanted him for one thing or another. Except one.

He studied Rachel. Well, perhaps two. Though he was certain he could adjust her thinking, given time.

As for a camaraderie with guys?at least guys his own age?he struggled. He'd often been accused of being born out of his time, and the Brummell accusation was reasonably accurate. He did have an excellent fashion sense.

"My grandmother was a stickler for diction," he said. And it was a defense mechanism, a way of trying to make himself seem clever and sophisticated enough to belong to his family. "It's a habit I can't seem to break. Maybe I could let the guys wow me with their knowledge of engines and aerodynamics. My economics professor never got around to that particular discussion."

A genuine smile quivered on her lips. "As long as you let them do that while you buy them a beer."

He winced. "I prefer wine."

"Of course you do." She looked heavenward?for guidance or maybe patience, he wasn't sure. "As long as we're clearing the air, you might as well know that you, ah? get my back up?" She angled her head. "Like a cat, I guess?"

"There is a resemblance around the eyes?"

"Yeah? Then you might want to make sure you keep your distance, so you don't get scratched."

Fascinated by the heat in her eyes and anticipating the moment he turned it to desire, he leaned closer. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You annoy me because you nearly ruined my brother's career."

"I did that all by myself, did I? Wow, I must be pretty powerful."

"Don't be cute. You had him arrested."

"I believe the police did that."

"Because you pressed them to."

"My father?" He stopped when her scowl deepened and lines appeared on her forehead. He wanted to rub them away. He wanted her to smile at him again.

Dream on.

"I was going to say my father encouraged the police, but in your eyes we're one and the same, and since I did nothing to stop him, I'll set aside that defense. I've taken responsibility for my mistakes. Cade and I have made our peace. I could also point out that your brother hit me, not the other way around."

"You drove him to it?criticizing his driving, interfering with the team."

And making the mistake of sharing my attraction to you.

A variety of events had led to the demise of his and Cade's business partnership. But after a year and a half apart, they'd managed to work through their issues, sign a new deal for Cade to drive the Huntington Hotels car for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series next year and somehow become friends along the way. Cade probably still wouldn't be wild about Parker pursuing his sister, but he hoped they could overcome that complication.

Since that's precisely what he intended to do.

"Perhaps I did," he said to Rachel. "But he's accepted my apology. Why can't you?"

"I don't?"

"How much longer do we have to wear these dang things?" Sam Benefield, Cade's crew chief, asked as he approached, tugging on his tie.

"It's once a year," the woman next to him, presumably his wife, said.

The woman on the other side of Sam looked as if she might be...