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of the trailer. After the race, the car would be loaded in its own space on the roof and the parts would go back in the cabinets that lined the inside. Trace had an office/bed at the very end and it was her home away from home on the track.
    He spotted her behind the Plexiglas door at the other end. She looked as cool as a glass of milk right out of the fridge. The lady didn’t need a stitch of makeup to warrant a second glance. Sitting at the small table in the corner, she’d popped the top off a lemonade can. A pack of bubble gum sat on the table’s edge.
    Lemonade and bubble gum. God, she was just a kid. Younger than his brother. So why did he keep having outrageous thoughts of stripping off her race suit to see what hid underneath? He couldn’t afford to think about her in any other capacity besides his driver.
    He opened the door and gestured toward the cushioned bench along the side of the trailer. “May I?”
    She extended her hand and set her drink on the table. “Sure. Why not? Make yourself at home.”
    The words themselves weren’t so bad—it was the clipped, forced tone that rubbed Mac the wrong way. But what had he expected? He sat and stretched out. He didn’t want her to think that Eddie had distracted him from their earlier conversation. “You were saying,” he said. “Something about respect.”
    Trace stood and paced in front of him. “Look,” she said. “I know it’s tough being brought in here on such short notice and we’re still trying to get to know each other, but you’ve got to give me some room. I know what I’m doing and I don’t need you acting like some kind of nervous…” She couldn’t seem to come up with the right word, and if she said father, Mac thought he might puke on the spot. “…car owner,” she finished.
    Whew.
    Back and forth, she paced. The Energizer Bunny had nothing on this woman. Did she ever stop?
    “I trust you, Trace. I have no doubts as to your abilities. In fact I—”
    “Then you have to let me practice and run the car the way I know how. Which means you can’t lecture me on how close I was to the line or—”
    “I would hardly call what I said a lecture,” Mac replied.
    “The point is we need to come to an understanding.”
    He agreed. Sitting here arguing about it wasn’t going to help matters at all. Mac stood and extended his hand. “Hi. Mac Reynolds. Nice to meet you.”
    Her brows quirked together in confusion. “What are you doing?”
    “Starting over.”
    She nodded and shook his hand. Her warmth and strength shocked him as it had when they’d first met. “Trace Bradshaw.” She didn’t give him a hint of a smile, but the determination in her eyes and the conviction in her voice made him think he had half a chance at getting along with her. “Nice to meet you too.”
     
    Seven days. One frustrating, agonizing week of head-on collisions with Mac, and Tracey was tired of it. After they’d talked and started over, she’d thought they’d get along fine, but as the days wore on, the opposite was true. They disagreed about everything. Strategy, practice time, track speed, car setup…anything and everything that had to do with racing. Sure, she’d argued with Joe, but at least they’d had the same philosophy. Not the case with Mighty Mackenzie Reynolds, God of All Things with Four Wheels.
    Tracey swiped her card key off the dresser and headed to the door. As soon as she opened it, she saw Mac’s door open from across the hall. Damn it. Not again. Although they’d been on opposite sides of the fence all week, unfortunately their clocks were timed in synchronicity. It never failed that the two of them left together and came in together. If she tried to leave early, she’d catch him apparently trying to do the same. They couldn’t get away from each other. Today was no different. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was purposely following her.
    Tracey kept it civil. “Hey,” she said, walking toward the