belligerence in Zack’s voice startled her, even though it was what she’d been pushing for. “Excuse me?”
He switched off the TV. “I can do the weather,” he said. “Or NASCAR. Movies, books. Just say the word.”
Gaby’s stomach fluttered. Zack definitely didn’t like that she thought Garrett Clark was cute. “You think that’s all Garrett talks about? Superficial stuff?”
Zack snorted. “The guy’s about as deep as a puddle at the top of a banked track.”“Interesting,” Gaby murmured, and was rewarded with a deeper frown. “What if I want to talk about the Bachelor of the Year contest?”
His mouth firmed. “Sure, we can talk about that. It’s a load of garbage.”
“Garrett doesn’t seem to think so.” She looked suggestively at the blank screen.
Zack bristled. “I’m not entering that stupid contest. I don’t need to prove I’m a heck of a lot more interesting than Garrett Clark.”
She let her brows draw together in dubious assessment.
“I am, ” he said, warningly.
“Uh-huh.” She wandered to the table and poured another coffee from the press. She took a swig of the cold liquid. Now or never. “Actually Zack, you do need to prove you’re a better catch than Garrett. I entered you in the Bachelor of the Year contest.”
Zack jerked backward. “You what? ”
“Have you seen how much exposure these guys are getting? The contest has been on all the major networks, and it will be again. It’s sponsored by the biggest-selling weekly magazine in the country, and the daily newspapers are picking up stories all the time.”
“I’m a NASCAR driver, not a-a beauty king.” He sat down on the couch, disgusted.
“You had one good race,” Gaby said. “Not enough for Getaway, not enough for the media and certainly not enough for your own satisfaction.”
“The bachelor contest sure as hell won’t give me any satisfaction,” he said.
“We can’t keep lurching from one interview, one race, to the next and hoping we don’t screw up too badly. The contest gives us week after week of strong, positive coverage, whatever else happens.”
“You said yourself I don’t have the social skills of driverslike Garrett Clark and Trent,” he pointed out. “What makes you think I’ll get positive coverage?”
“I saw an indication of what you can do at today’s interview. We’ll build on that.” She sucked in a breath and stood over him in an attempt to intimidate. “I plan to put you through charm school.”
He stared up at her. “Huh?”
“The first lesson is to stop confusing huh and uh for conversation,” she snapped. “From now on, I want multiword sentences. Even some multisyllable words.”
“Ne-ver go-ing to hap-pen,” he enunciated clearly.
“I mean it, Zack. I need you to commit one hundred percent to the bachelor contest, and that means changing your attitude to just about everything.”
He got to his feet, terminating her brief height advantage. “I told you, the only thing I’ll commit to one hundred percent is my racing.”
Frustrated, Gaby paced the room. Couldn’t he see that success in the bachelor contest might actually help his racing? He needed a confidence boost. “I already told the reporter you’re in.”
“Then it’s your job to get me out,” he said.
She eyeballed him. “No.”
“What are you going to do, make me do the contest?” He laughed, and it was the last straw.
Gaby flung hesitancy to the winds…along with her professional ethics. Zack didn’t give a damn about anyone else, why should she give a damn about what he wanted?
She sat carefully on the couch he’d just vacated, ignoring the magnetism of his presence, and folded her hands in her lap. Steeling herself.
“What?” Zack asked, suspicious.
She decided to overlook the single-syllable sentence. “We both know there’s something else you’re willing to put a hundred percent into.”
“No, there’s not.” His gaze flickered toward the door.
“And
He switched off the TV. “I can do the weather,” he said. “Or NASCAR. Movies, books. Just say the word.”
Gaby’s stomach fluttered. Zack definitely didn’t like that she thought Garrett Clark was cute. “You think that’s all Garrett talks about? Superficial stuff?”
Zack snorted. “The guy’s about as deep as a puddle at the top of a banked track.”“Interesting,” Gaby murmured, and was rewarded with a deeper frown. “What if I want to talk about the Bachelor of the Year contest?”
His mouth firmed. “Sure, we can talk about that. It’s a load of garbage.”
“Garrett doesn’t seem to think so.” She looked suggestively at the blank screen.
Zack bristled. “I’m not entering that stupid contest. I don’t need to prove I’m a heck of a lot more interesting than Garrett Clark.”
She let her brows draw together in dubious assessment.
“I am, ” he said, warningly.
“Uh-huh.” She wandered to the table and poured another coffee from the press. She took a swig of the cold liquid. Now or never. “Actually Zack, you do need to prove you’re a better catch than Garrett. I entered you in the Bachelor of the Year contest.”
Zack jerked backward. “You what? ”
“Have you seen how much exposure these guys are getting? The contest has been on all the major networks, and it will be again. It’s sponsored by the biggest-selling weekly magazine in the country, and the daily newspapers are picking up stories all the time.”
“I’m a NASCAR driver, not a-a beauty king.” He sat down on the couch, disgusted.
“You had one good race,” Gaby said. “Not enough for Getaway, not enough for the media and certainly not enough for your own satisfaction.”
“The bachelor contest sure as hell won’t give me any satisfaction,” he said.
“We can’t keep lurching from one interview, one race, to the next and hoping we don’t screw up too badly. The contest gives us week after week of strong, positive coverage, whatever else happens.”
“You said yourself I don’t have the social skills of driverslike Garrett Clark and Trent,” he pointed out. “What makes you think I’ll get positive coverage?”
“I saw an indication of what you can do at today’s interview. We’ll build on that.” She sucked in a breath and stood over him in an attempt to intimidate. “I plan to put you through charm school.”
He stared up at her. “Huh?”
“The first lesson is to stop confusing huh and uh for conversation,” she snapped. “From now on, I want multiword sentences. Even some multisyllable words.”
“Ne-ver go-ing to hap-pen,” he enunciated clearly.
“I mean it, Zack. I need you to commit one hundred percent to the bachelor contest, and that means changing your attitude to just about everything.”
He got to his feet, terminating her brief height advantage. “I told you, the only thing I’ll commit to one hundred percent is my racing.”
Frustrated, Gaby paced the room. Couldn’t he see that success in the bachelor contest might actually help his racing? He needed a confidence boost. “I already told the reporter you’re in.”
“Then it’s your job to get me out,” he said.
She eyeballed him. “No.”
“What are you going to do, make me do the contest?” He laughed, and it was the last straw.
Gaby flung hesitancy to the winds…along with her professional ethics. Zack didn’t give a damn about anyone else, why should she give a damn about what he wanted?
She sat carefully on the couch he’d just vacated, ignoring the magnetism of his presence, and folded her hands in her lap. Steeling herself.
“What?” Zack asked, suspicious.
She decided to overlook the single-syllable sentence. “We both know there’s something else you’re willing to put a hundred percent into.”
“No, there’s not.” His gaze flickered toward the door.
“And
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