Gray made the turn to head toward his trailer and saw someone waiting at his door.
Not just someone. A very attractive, way-overdressed-for-the-track female wearing a business suit and very high heels. He gave her an assessing look as he made his way toward her.
Media, maybe? Though he’d finished his interviews earlier.
She pulled down her sunglasses and gave him the once-over, too.
“Grayson Preston?”
Wow. She was a stunner, with her strawberry blonde hair expertly pulled up, her blue eyes assessing him, and her lips perfectly glossed. She sure as hell didn’t belong here. Besides, nobody on the racing circuit called him Grayson. Hell, only his mom called him by that name. And his father.
“Yeah. And you are?”
She walked toward him, her steps sure and confident, then held out her hand.
“Evelyn Hill. Do you have a moment?”
For her, he had a lot of moments. He shook her hand, noticing her manicured nails.
Not those long, fake, clawlike nails some of the women around here wore. Evelyn’s were short and unpainted. “Sure. Come on in.”
He opened up the door to his trailer and waited while she climbed the stairs, which gave him an opportunity to ogle her very shapely legs and mighty fine ass. Too bad her skirt covered her knees. Normally the women around here wore their skirts a lot shorter. Then again, normally the women hitting on the racers didn’t dress like they were going to have high tea somewhere.
She moved into the living area and he shut the door.
“What can I do for you, Evelyn?”
She turned to face him and gave him a smile. A practiced, professional, very businesslike smile. “I’m here representing your father, Senator Preston.”
Just as he was focusing his radar on her, she had to go and ruin it by working for his father. Though at least he was sending better emissaries now. Gray went to his fridge and grabbed a beer. “Want one?”
“Oh. No, thank you.”
He popped the top off the can and took a long swallow, his throat parched from all those laps and the interviews he’d had to do after the disastrous finish. “Did you see the race today?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. I’m sorry about your wreck, but I’m relieved you weren’t hurt.”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t that hard a hit.” He pointed to the small table. “Take a seat, Evelyn. You sure you don’t want something to drink? I also have water and pop.”
“No. I’m fine. But it was nice of you to offer.”
Wasn’t she polite? She slid into the booth and crossed one long leg over the other.
He cleared his throat. “Okay, then, what did my father send you all the way to Michigan to talk to me about that one of you couldn’t have called to say over the phone?”
She swept a curl behind her ear and folded her hands together on the table before focusing those gorgeous clear blue eyes directly at him. “As you are aware, or at least I hope you’re aware, now that Senator Preston has dropped out of the presidential race, he has a good chance at being considered a viable candidate for vice president in the election this year.”
He leaned back in the booth. “I knew he dropped out of the race, but didn’t know he has a shot at the VP spot. Good for him. What does that have to do with me?”
“He’d be very grateful if you could assist him in his efforts.”
Now this was a first. His father hadn’t wanted anything to do with him for a long time now. “Is that right? And how am I supposed to help him?”
“You’ve done very well for yourself in this sport, Mr. Preston—”
“If you’re going to keep talking to me, Evelyn, you’d better call me Gray.”
She opened her mouth, paused, then nodded. “All right, Gray. As I was saying, you’ve become very successful in auto racing, which means you have a very dedicated fan base. A very dedicated nationwide fan base.”
Evelyn sure was pretty, and there was a light sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose that spread to her cheeks, which did nothing to diminish how damn sexy she was, or how commanding her eyes were. Her beauty also didn’t distract him from the very clear message she had just delivered on behalf of his father.
“I get it. A very dedicated nationwide fan base of registered voters who you think I could persuade to cast a few for my dad and the presidential candidate. And if I agree, that makes Mitchell Preston an even more attractive potential vice presidential candidate, what with all those critical southern votes I could help him garner.”
She didn’t avert her gaze. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t he come to me when he was running for president?”
“He would have, had his presidential bid continued.”
“Huh. You do realize my father and I don’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things, political issues included.”