you get into the sport?”
Too full to eat any more but intrigued by the conversation, April pushed the rice around on her place and listened.
“My grandfather on my mother’s side sponsored me until I had enough wins under my belt to attract corporate support.”
“I’ll bet you could buy yourself half a dozen cars then,” Christie said, obviously trying to make up for her earlier gaffe.
“Not for a while,” Gunner said. “Most of the money I earned went to help with rent and the other household bills.”
April pulled Gunner’s jacket more tightly around her. He’d stated it so matter-of-factly she got the impression he thought nothing of giving his mother his earnings. “That was nice of you,” she said.
“We all contributed what we could,” he replied.
Wayne accepted a refill of his margarita. “You won early on, if I remember correctly. How old were you when you started racing?”
“I raced quarter midgets at nine.”
Tom whistled. “Jeez, that’s young.”
“Not really. A lot of kids start that young.”
“Did you go into racing full-time right out of high school?” Claire asked.
“He first got a Bachelor of Science in Vehicle Structure Engineering from Purdue,” Wayne said, then smiled when everyone looked surprised that he’d know this information. “I’m a big fan.”
“So am I,” her father said. “You had quite a career, Gunner. I was checking your stats on a fan Web site the other day. Said you’ve won over fifty-four million dollars. And your last year was your biggest ever, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
A muscle in Gunner’s cheek twitched and his smile seemed strained—signs that he wasn’t enjoying himself. But April couldn’t imagine why. They weren’t talking about his mother anymore. The conversation had veered toward his impressive racing career.
Wayne and her father asked him several more questions about racing, which he answered as succinctly as possible, and April finally stepped in.
“I think Gunner’s probably tired,” she said. “We should let him finish his dessert so he can head up to bed. He’s been on a plane all day and must be feeling some jet lag.”
Gunner put down his napkin, even though he was only half finished with his flan. “Actually, I was hoping I could talk you into taking a walk with me before I turn in.”
April had been ready to relinquish his jacket so she could go to bed, too. But suddenly finding herself the center of attention, she hesitated. “Of course,” she said, knowing she’d get another lecture from her mother if she refused.
The tension she’d felt in Gunner a moment earlier seemed to evaporate, and the corners of his lips twitched as he stood and pulled out her chair. Evidently he liked using their pretense to back her into a corner.
“Good night,” he said to the others.
She let him take her hand and lead her away. She had to make some concessions. With Gunner at her elbow, her father had actually invited her mother to dine with them and, while Walt had generally avoided speaking to Claire, he did order her favorite wine. And Keith hadn’t dared so much as approach April.
All in all, she thought her plan was working out nicely—until she found herself alone on a deserted beach with Gunner.
CHAPTER SIX
THE WIND had picked up considerably but April didn’t mind because the stars overhead seemed larger than any she’d seen before.
“You warm enough?” Gunner asked.
“I’m fine.” She hugged his sport jacket closer to her body. “But you’ve got to be freezing.” The waves crashing only a few feet away mesmerized her, but she pulled her attention from the churning, moonlit crests to glance behind them. They’d gone far enough that the hotel appeared only as a dark shape in the distance. “I’m sure we can go back now,” she said. “No one will notice us slip off to our rooms.”
“What’s the matter? Nervous?”
She tried to make out his expression, hoping for some clue as to why he’d bothered bringing her out here. “Of course not. I’m perfectly relaxed. I just don’t see the point of continuing to act our parts when no one can see us.”
“I think you can use the practice,” he said flatly.
April stopped to kick off her sandals. It was getting downright cold, but she liked the soft, grainy feel of the sand between her toes, enjoyed the smell of the salt air. She didn’t travel enough, she realized. This was truly beautiful. “What do you mean?”
“No one’s going to believe you even like me if you jump every time I brush your arm,” he said. “Or slide over