Right Before His Eyes by Wendy Etherington Page A

top of Rafael’s hauler—Gil slid his arm around her waist. “Come on,” he invited, his eyes glowing and seemingly unaware of the excitement around him.
    â€œWhere?” she asked, though she let him lead her down the ladder to the ground, where teams were rushing around to pack up their equipment for the night.
    His warm, capable hand squeezed hers. “Steak. Dinner. You. Me.”
    â€œYou’re getting as bad as Rafael.”
    â€œSorry. I’m a little single-minded at the moment.”
    And before she knew it, she was swept from the track and into a limo, then they were seated in a booth at an elegant downtown Dallas steak house.
    â€œThey have an excellent variety of whiskey here,” Gil said, sliding a menu across the table toward her.
    â€œYeah?” She glanced at the selections, her eyes nearly bugging out at the prices. But vowing not to say anything to spoil the “bubble,” she smiled at him. “I’m not picky. You choose.”
    He did, and the drink he chose was both smooth and warm, much finer than anything she’d ever had. She also gave up control of ordering dinner—just as she had earlier in the week.
    In her whole life, she’d never relied on anybody, but Gil was the kind of man who made surrender easy. And while she recognized it could never last, she didn’t much care as he smiled at her like no other woman existed in the world.
    â€œWho betrayed you?”
    The smoky whiskey dried like ash in her mouth.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    He picked up her hand where it rested on the table and linked their fingers. “Somebody made you distrust everybody, men in particular. Who was it?”
    The closeness she’d felt flicked off. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
    â€œYour father?” he pressed. “You said he’s never been part of your life, so he can’t be the one.”
    â€œI don’t have a father.” She glanced around the quiet, elegantly lit restaurant, then leaned toward him, fire in her eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    Regret moved through his eyes. “I’m pushing too hard, too fast.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI swore I wouldn’t, but I—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I want you too much.”
    That certainly had her pulse jumping into overdrive. She scooted closer to him in the booth. It was incredibly hard for her to extend intimacy, but she did, sliding the hand he wasn’t holding up his chest, where his heart beat, true and strong.
    â€œThe last two days have been amazing.” The best of my life. As such, she needed to offer him some version of the truth. He’d given so much, and she’d lied just by existing. “It’s like a dream, my responsibilities gone while I hang out at the track, watching everybody who’s come through my diner do what they love.”
    â€œBut…”
    She met his gaze, praying he’d understand. “You were the one who proposed the truce.”
    â€œForget the past, not think about the future.”
    â€œExactly.” She fisted her hand to keep it from shaking, then unclenched and glided her fingertips across his jawline. “We don’t have very long.”
    The tension dissipated as he lifted both his lips and his brows. “We turn into pumpkins tomorrow night?”
    â€œI do.”
    Through dinner, he played the indulgent host, and she let him.
    He wouldn’t be put off for long. If he truly cared about her, and somehow she was convinced he did, then he’d need to know everything. She no longer feared the possibility of him leaving for the next hot chick to cross his path, she knew he would when her mistakes were revealed.
    Still, she ignored her conscience and its warnings. Her past was just that…over.
    When they reached her suite, she didn’t invite him in for coffee, she just kept hold of his hand and led