Interns and staffers did it with their bosses all the time in Washington. It was a way to climb the ladder faster. She vowed she would never do that, and she hadn’t. She’d earned her way up based on her skills alone. She was a professional and was determined to always act like one.
Yeah, about that determination. She’d survived six years in the hotbed of sex and scandal of politics in D.C., only to crumble in an auto racer’s bed in Kentucky during the first week. She should be ashamed.
Surprisingly, she felt no shame whatsoever. She’d been a little sore in spots since she hadn’t had sex in a long time. But for some reason, she couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off her face.
She supposed several rounds of awesome sex could do that to a person.
Maybe sometime soon the guilt would rear its ugly head. Until then, she’d continue to fondly remember the awesome sex she’d had.
It was race day, and Evelyn had been granted a pass to be in the pits. She’d stayed in the background during qualifying, watching Gray do his thing.
He was very good with the media during interviews. He was smooth on camera, was nice to reporters, and handled the media very well. She’d watched a lot of video on him and that was one of the reasons she’d convinced the senator he’d be a viable resource to use in the campaign, despite the senator’s objections.
She wondered what Gray would say if he knew this had been her idea. She knew he probably figured this had been his father’s doing, when it was the complete opposite. Mitchell Preston thought Gray would turn her down. She told him she could convince Gray to help, and she’d take full responsibility for making it happen. He’d told her he hated losing her during such an important time, because they’d worked so closely together for many years now and he needed her.
Evelyn knew he relied on her expertise, especially during the most critical election year of his life. But having Gray’s legions of fans could be such a boon, especially the younger voters and those in the South. If they could secure those votes, and if Mitchell did, indeed, get the VP nomination, they could ride this wave all the way to the White House.
Or at least the vice president’s house. Which would be as high as Evelyn had ever gotten up the political ladder.
The thought of it surged in her blood, as exciting as listening to the cars start their engines at the beginning of the race. Her earplugs firmly intact, she watched the cars pull onto the track to begin their warm-up laps.
“You’ll want to climb up into the pit box, ma’am.”
She turned as—oh, what was his name? Steve, maybe? He was one of the crew, and he pointed up the ladder to a booth where the crew chief sat.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to go up there.”
Steve, a young guy with dark brown eyes and a sweet smile, pointed to his ears.
“Actually, Ian just communicated to me that’s where you’re supposed to be. We’ll be running back and forth around here all day. Tires will be tossed and other shi— things. Don’t want you to get hurt. You’ll be safer up in the communications booth.
Plus, it’s a great view of the race.”
“Oh. Okay.”
She found the stairs and made her way up into the booth. Ian barely paid attention to her, his gaze fixed on Gray’s car and the screens in front of him. He pointed to the empty seat and she took it, then searched the track for Gray’s car.
He’d qualified in the sixth position, and as the cars lined up in tight formation for the start, her chest tightened.
She wasn’t normally a race fan, but she had watched videos of racing and had been to one live race—the first one where she’d met Gray. And she’d done a lot of research on racing, so she’d be educated. She knew what was at stake for Gray.
As they waved the checkered flag and the crowd roared, the cars jammed together and accelerated. Evelyn’s heart flew into her throat as the speeds climbed higher. With every lap the drivers took, her stomach tightened.
A crash on lap three had her leaping out of her seat, leaning forward to check Gray’s position. He’d barely missed it, had accelerated down to the—what was the bottom of the track called? The apron. That was it.
“You might as well relax, Evelyn,” Ian said, “or you’re never going to make it to the end of the race.”
She sat down and watched as the safety crews and trucks came to clean up the mess. “Relax? How am I supposed to relax? Did you see how close Gray was to that wreck?”
Ian, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, his gaze firmly fixed on the monitors. “You get used to it. If you think you’re nervous now, wait ’til the end of the race.”
“God. I’ll need a Valium by the end of the race.”
The first one she’d watched hadn’t been like this. She hadn’t been . . . invested.