Mother, Please! - By Brenda Novak & Jill Shalvis & Alison Kent Page 0,2

were as blue-green as the ocean, just the way they appeared on television. But his lashes were quite a bit lighter than she remembered and were tipped with blonde, like his hair. Obviously the gods had smiled on him far more generously than on most men. Not only was he a skilled driver, he was at least five foot eleven and movie-star handsome.

From the rumors that had always circulated about Gunner, and the tabloid photos of him with a variety of women, all of them blond and absolutely perfect, April figured he must possess the complete “famous, shallow, womanizer” mentality. For a moment, she pitied those women not wise enough to see through him. No doubt Gunner Stevens had broken his share of hearts.

“Let’s not talk about what I do, Father,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to bore your guest.”

Gunner slowly lowered his drink, and his eyes narrowed as he recognized something missing in her tone—probably the hero-worship he was used to hearing. “Actually, I’m quite interested—April is it?”

“It has little practical application to racing,” she said, fairly certain that a man like Gunner couldn’t truly be interested in anything that didn’t feature him as the main topic.

“So, are you going to be joining us for the company vacation after Christmas, Gunner?” her father asked, oblivious to April’s instant dislike, his mind moving on quickly, as it always did.

Gunner’s eyes remained riveted on April’s face, but he spoke to her father. “I’m afraid not. I have business to attend to back East.”

Her father’s lips turned down. “That’s too bad.”

“Are you thinking of using Mr. Stevens for a commercial spot, Dad?” April asked, forgetting Gunner and focusing on her father.

“Actually, I’m thinking of retiring,” he said. “And Gunner’s made me an offer on the business.”

“What?” April couldn’t believe her ears. Her father had long begged her to work for him so she could take over when he retired, but her heart wasn’t in selling car parts. She wanted to further the work of Danish physicist Lene Vestergaard Hau and figure out how to slow the speed of light to ten miles per hour using the Bose-Einstein condensate. But that didn’t mean she wanted to see Ashton Automotive go to someone else.

Walt swiveled his head in the direction they’d last seen her mother. “I won’t watch what I built go to the dogs,” he said. “I’d rather sell out. But I won’t turn my company over to just anyone, either.”

This last statement had been spoken for Gunner’s benefit, April knew. Her father was fiercely protective of both his company and everyone who worked for him.

“You don’t want to sell Ashton Automotive, Dad,” she said. “I—”

“April, would you care to dance?” Gunner interrupted.

Surprised, April glanced over at him before returning her attention to her father. “No, thank you. Dad, listen to me—”

“I shouldn’t have started with business talk,” Gunner cut in again. His sensuous mouth formed a charming smile. “We could be having fun.”

Her father returned the smile, took Gunner’s empty glass and gave it to Regina. “Exactly. Gunner’s right. Don’t you worry about anything, April. You two dance and have a good time. Nothing’s going to happen for a while.” He put her hand in Gunner’s as if his was the last word on the subject. And before she could object, April found herself in the arms of one of the most famous race-car drivers in the world.

CHAPTER TWO

GUNNER STEVENS DIDN’T LIKE being manipulated. He normally didn’t allow it. Especially since he’d gotten out of racing. He no longer had to please anyone—not his corporate sponsors, his pit crew, or the rather inflexible officials of NASCAR.

But he was being manipulated now, and he knew it. Walt Ashton was dangling Ashton Automotive in front of him like a carrot while inviting him to this or that event, purposely putting him in contact with Ashton employees to see how he’d fit in and get along with them. It wasn’t any secret that Walt wanted to feel good about letting his precious company go, which was admirable—and tolerable because it was so admirable. But, considering the way Walt had shoved April into his arms, Gunner wondered if the manipulation ended there. Maybe Walt was hoping Gunner would take an interest in his plain daughter….

Gunner lowered his gaze to April’s face as they moved, rather jerkily on her part, to a Luther Vandross ballad. She had creamy, soft-looking skin with a few freckles across the nose, brown, intelligent eyes and white, straight teeth. But her lips