Nobody But You
Rave Reviews for Francis Ray
THE WAY YOU LOVE ME
“Fans of Ray’s Grayson and Falcon families will be thrilled with the first installment in the new Grayson Friends series. And this is done very well…told with such grace and affection that this novel is a treat to read.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
UNTIL THERE WAS YOU
“Ms. Ray has given us a great novel again. Did we expect anything less than the best?”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“Crisp style, realistic dialogue, likable characters and [a] fast pace.”
—Library Journal
ONLY YOU
“Francis Ray’s graceful writing style and realistically complex characters give her latest contemporary romance its extraordinary emotional richness and depth.”
—Chicago Tribune
“It’s a joy to read this always fresh and exciting saga.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews (4 stars)
“The powerful descriptive powers of Francis Ray allow the reader to step into the story and become an active part of the surrender…If you love a great love story, Only You should be on your list.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
“Riveting emotion and charismatic scenes that made this book captivating…a beautiful story of love and romance.”
—Night Owl Romance
“A beautiful love story as only Francis Ray can tell it.”
—Singletitles.com
“Readers will find a warm and wonderful contemporary romance with plenty of humor and drama. Adding a fun warmth and reality to these characters and a plot that moves quickly add all the needed incentive to read this fun book.”
—Multicultural Romance Writers
IRRESISTIBLE YOU
“A pleasurable story...a well-developed story and continuous plot.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“Like the previous titles in this series, Irresistible You is another winner…Witty and charming…Author Francis Ray has a true gift for drawing the reader in and never letting them go.”
—Multicultural Romance Writers
DREAMING OF YOU
“A great read from beginning to end, it’s even excellent for an immediate re-read.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews
“An immensely likable heroine, a sexy man with a heart of gold, and touches of glitz and color, [this] is as unapologetically escapist as Cinderella. Lots of fun.”
—BookPage
YOU AND NO OTHER
“The warmth and sincerity of the Graysons bring another book to life….delightfully realistic.”
—Romantic Times
“Astonishing sequel…the best romance of the new year…the Graysons are sure to leave a smile on your face and a longing in your heart for their next story.”
—ARomanceReview.com
“There are three more [Grayson] children with great love stories in the future.”
—Booklist
SOMEONE TO LOVE ME
“Another great romance novel.”
—Booklist
“The plot moves quickly, and the characters are interesting.”
—Romantic Times
“The characters give as good as they get, and their romance is very believable.”
—All About Romance
ALSO BY FRANCIS RAY
GRAYSONS OF NEW MEXICO SERIES
Until There Was You
Only You
Dreaming of You
Irresistible You
You and No Other
The Way You Love Me
Any Rich Man Will Do
Like the First Time
Someone to Love Me
Somebody’s Knocking at My Door
I Know Who Holds Tomorrow
Trouble Don’t Last Always
Not Even If You Begged
In Another Man’s Bed
ANTHOLOGIES
Rosie’s Curl and Weave
Della’s House of Style
Going to the Chapel
Welcome to Leo’s
Gettin’ Merry
Nobody But You
FRANCIS RAY
St. Martin’s Paperbacks
NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
NOBODY BUT YOU
Copyright © 2009 by Francis Ray.
Excerpt from And Mistress Makes Three copyright © 2009 by Francis Ray.
Cover photograph © Shirley Green
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 0-312-94685-6
EAN: 978-0-312-94685-2
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / March 2009
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To my daughter, Michelle, who went with me to Texas Motor Speedway. You are always in my corner no matter what—even if you have to get up at 5 a.m.
Acknowledgments
This book could not have been written without the tireless and wonderful assistance of Mike Zizzo, Director of Media Relations, at Texas Motor Speedway. Mike invited me to the Dickies 500 and gave me a media and a cold pass that allowed me in the garage and pit area. TMS is one of the top racing tracks in the country. The employees are friendly and knowledgeable. The experience is one I’ll never forget.
Mike recommended I read NASCAR for Dummies by Mark Martin with Beth Tuschak before I attended the race. The book was invaluable and helped make sense of all the fast-paced action on and off the track. I highly recommend it if you want to know more about NASCAR. NASCAR.com is also a great place to find information.
and
Jim Gaughan, a NASCAR fan, who helped me understand the working of a NASCAR racing team and why all those rows and rows of Goodyear tires were treadless.
Thanks also to the following people:
McClinton Radford Jr., my only brother, and a former drag racer. Thank heaven big brothers don’t mind if you call and ask the same question again and again.
Kerry Tharp, NASCAR executive, who was kind enough to give me an interview and discuss diversity. Women and minorities are gaining visibility in NASCAR and making their mark.
and
NASCAR for Dummies by Mark Martin with Beth Tuschak
THE MCBRIDE FAMILY TREE
* * *
GRAYSONS OF NEW MEXICO NOVELS
1. Until There Was You
2. You and No Other
3. Dreaming of You†
4. Irresistible You
5. Only You
GRAYSONS FRIENDS SERIES
1a. The Way You Love Me
2a. Nobody But You
Prologue
She wasn’t responding the way Cameron McBride had anticipated.
He was experienced, not some wide-eyed kid who went for speed over technique. He prided himself on his ability to match his skills against anyone’s. Yet, he knew his mind wasn’t on what he was doing.
A surefire way to get into trouble going over a hundred and eighty miles per hour with twenty-three other drivers gunning to snag the checkered flag was to let your mind wander. Knowing it and doing something about it were completely different. It had nothing to do with the experimen
tal race car he was driving on the California Speedway. The two-mile racing surface was one of the best tracks in the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series.
He was the problem.
Cameron always had trouble in California. Los Angeles, his last known address for Caitlin, was an hour east of Fontana, the home of the California Speedway.
Caitlin, why did you leave me at the altar?
Firmly pushing her from his mind, he concentrated on the approaching curve. Cars had to slow down or risk spinning out of control. Before he reached the straightaway he had to work his way into position to pass the car ahead of him. He also had to watch the slower, lapped cars.
“Cameron, how is she?”
The soft-spoken voice of his crew chief came over the headphones in his safety helmet just as Cameron accelerated in the straightaway. Michael “Mike” Alvarado was one of the best crew chiefs in the business, and had been with Hilliard Motorsports racing team for the past seven years. “Rough and tight,” Cameron answered, his fingers curled around the steering wheel. “She might be the Car of Tomorrow with all the safety features NASCAR has required, but I don’t think she’s ready for the track.”
“Hilliard says different. Might I remind you that’s why you’re racing in the Busch Series race today, to get her ready for next week’s NASCAR Sprint race in Las Vegas,” came his crew chief’s reply.
“When Hilliard is sitting where I’m sitting he can make that decision. Until then you can tell him—”
“Now, Cameron.” Mike chuckled, in a deep drawl reminiscent of his Texas roots. He was a gentleman and peacemaker on and off the track. “Is that any way to talk about the man who signs your checks?”
“Yep,” Cameron shot back. He respected Sean Hilliard, was honored to be on one of Hilliard’s four-man NASCAR race team, but he wouldn’t hesitate to tell Hilliard his honest opinion. Case in point, the car he was driving. “She’s too tight, Mike. She doesn’t feel right.”
“Bring her on in, Cameron,” Mike told him. “No sense borrowing trouble. We’ll look her over again.”
“Not a chance.” Cameron shot around a curve, straightened, and managed to muscle his way past another car. “I’m in fifth place now with fifteen laps to go. I can win this ra—” The loud explosion of a blowout negated what Cameron had been about to say.
Muttering a curse, he fought the steering wheel as the car went into a wild spin. Another race car clipped his right rear bumper, sending him in the opposite direction.
Cameron saw the retaining wall looming ahead of him, knew he was going to hit and there wasn’t a thing he could do to prevent the crash.
Chapter 1
“It’s a miracle you’re alive. I caught the crash on the TV in a patient’s cubicle,” commented Dr. Dan Reems, the chief resident in the emergency room of Mercy Hospital, his long arms folded across his thin chest as he peered at Cameron over the silver wire frames of the eyeglasses perched on his nose.
Cameron agreed wholeheartedly. His car’s front end looked like crumpled paper, but thanks to the new safety regulations NASCAR had implemented in the Car of Tomorrow, he had walked away with minor bumps and bruises. “Yeah.”
“Will he be able to race tomorrow?” Hilliard asked, his teeth clamped on an unlit cigar. As owner, he had a lot riding on the answer. Sponsors wanted winners. Fans tended to patronize the advertisers on the cars that grabbed the checkered flag. Hilliard was very wealthy on his own after taking his money from a buyout of the computer firm he’d started, but it was nothing for one team’s expenses to run from 10 to 15 million dollars a year, and Hilliard had two teams.
Cameron had long ago gotten over the fact that the race, not the driver, came first. He was only a tool. But he was one of the best.
“I don’t see why not.” Dr. Reems shook his graying head of hair and peered at Cameron over his eyeglasses again. “The X-rays and EEG checked out. He’ll be sore as hell in the morning. He won’t be able to take the muscle relaxants and drive. It will depend on him.”
“I’m driving.” Cameron reached for his black T-shirt and pulled it over his head, wincing as sore muscles protested.
“I’ll give you a prescription for tonight.” The doctor went to the counter and quickly scribbled on a pad, tore the sheet off and returned. “An autograph for an autograph.”
“Sure.” Cameron exchanged the prescription for a pad and pen his publicist, Mike’s daughter, Hope Alvarado, held out.
The room was crowded with his pit crew chief, the engine specialist, and a couple of reps from his two biggest sponsors. The reps wanted to make sure their investment was protected and Cameron was still racing the next day.
From years of practice, Cameron quickly personalized the autograph, and signed his name with a flourish. “Thanks, Dr. Reems.”
“Thank you,” the middle-aged doctor said, proudly looking at the autograph with a wide grin.
A tall, attractive woman in a black double-breasted business suit and white silk blouse stepped forward, her right hand extended, her left hand wrapped around a leather folder pressed to her chest. “Mr. McBride, I’m Ms. Jessup, the hospital spokesperson. There are quite a few news media representatives outside waiting for you. We’ve set up a conference room just off the emergency room for you.”
“Thank you,” Cameron said, his grin slow and lazy. “I appreciate it.”
The woman blushed. “I’ll show you the way.”
Cameron eased off the exam table. Mike opened the door and they all piled out of the cubicle. Conversation in the various patient units scattered around the open area stopped for a full fifteen seconds. Since winning the Daytona 500 last week, he’d been thrust into the limelight more and more. Used to the stares, Cameron usually didn’t pay them any attention. But he was well aware that if things had gone differently, his life might have been dependent on the skill of the hospital’s staff.
The moment he walked through the double doors, cameras flashed, the waiting media surged forward. Questions were fired at him. Several off-duty policemen acting as security moved in front of the boisterous crowd.
“Please hold your questions and move aside. You’re obstructing the hallway,” the hospital spokesperson instructed.
The policemen pushed the crowd back to clear a path to the patient care area of the emergency cubicles. As they parted, a small group of people, apparently seeing a chance to get past the media, quickly came through the narrow opening.
Leading the charge were two men in white lab coats. Directly behind them was a young boy on a gurney being pushed by a woman in scrubs. His leg in a splint, he appeared to be in his mid-teens. On the far side of the gurney and away from Cameron was a woman carrying a small child. Her head was bent, her arms clasped securely around the boy, whose face was turned away.
There was something oddly familiar about the woman. She hadn’t glanced in his direction, but he’d seen her hunch over further as her hand clutched the child closer to her. Cameron slowed his steps, turning to watch the woman. In a matter of seconds, she had passed them.
He couldn’t say why he couldn’t take his gaze from her. No woman had ever come close to making him feel even a fraction of the all-consuming desire he’d had for Caitlin.
He was afraid no woman ever would.
Just before she would have rounded the corner, the woman paused, then glanced back. Their gazes met. The jolt to his nervous system was worse than hitting the wall.
Caitlin.
He had finally found her.
Her eyes rounded, her mouth opened, but no sound that he could hear emerged. Quickly turning away, she hurried around the corner and out of sight. His jaw clenched. Without thought, he started after her.
It had been more than five years and she was still running from him. Why? He’d asked himself that question too many times to count after she’d shamed him before his family and friends. In all this time, he hadn’t figured out the answer.
“Cameron,” Mike said, catching his arm. “Where’re you going?”
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Anger rolled through him. “Let go of me,” Cameron hissed, not taking his gaze away from the spot where Caitlin had disappeared.
Frowning, Mike’s fingers uncurled. “Cameron, son. You all right? The doc miss something?”
The doctor, the nurse, and the spokesperson who had attached herself to them ten minutes after he’d arrived, converged on him. “Do you have a headache? Blurred vision? Are you in any pain?” Dr. Reems asked, his bushy brows furrowed.
Cameron’s head snapped back around. “Hurt” was a mild word for what he felt. He’d tried to dismiss her, forget her, hate her. He had been unable to do any of those things.
The media, sensing something was wrong, pushed closer. The two policemen were able to keep them back. If they sensed the woman who had made him a joke of the NASCAR circuit was nearby, they’d exploit it to the hilt.
He didn’t need that. Winning the Daytona, the NASCAR kickoff, last Sunday boded well for him for the rest of the season. He planned to win the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series championship for the second year in a row. Nothing was going to stand in his way.
Firmly, Cameron turned around. Now wasn’t the time. He didn’t want the media bringing up her jilting him every time they interviewed him this season. He’d had enough of that the season after Caitlin had wrecked his life. The media had had a field day at his expense. NASCAR SPRINT SERIES DRIVER LEFT AT THE ALTAR.