Hi. So I'm not going to say anything about why I haven't posted till the end…because it will be a kind of long one, but not onto the story.

Previously on Falling Into Place

"No!" came the answer. And it wasn't Bex who answered. It was Zach.

Okay, deep breath, quench foolish flutters. She felt girlish and flirty, and that was so unlike her that she wanted to scramble back into her safe suit. Except that Bex had come in and whisked it away almost as though she'd guessed this might happen.

Well, he was going to see her sometime; she might as well get it over with. She opened the door to two staring faces.

"Oh, honey, you make me proud," said Bex, beaming at her as though she were her daughter trying on a bridal gown.

Zach didn't say anything. He gave a wolf whistle.

Cammie wasn't a troll. She got whistled at by the usual construction guys and drunks on street corners, but she'd never, ever received a wolf whistle from an actual red-blooded, hot, womanizing wolf.

So maybe a little shopping once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

"Want to come with me later when I'm putting suntan lotion on some gals in bikinis?" Zach asked.

They were back in Florida getting ready for the next race in Daytona. She was starting to get used to the routine, the village of motor homes where she and Zach stayed for a few days over the race, where she appeared in public as his girlfriend with the lucky lips while in private they'd become friends.

At the expression on her face, he grinned. "I swear it wasn't my idea. It's an ad for one of my sponsors and I would take it as a real favor if you would come with me."

"You don't want to be alone with all those barely dressed models?"

He shook his head. "Just come with me."

She knew now that he liked having her around sometimes as a buffer between him and the outside world, sometimes as his Sorry I'm Taken sign. "Okay."

"Thanks. I'm heading down to the garage. See you after practice. We'll do the ad, and then be back here for dinner?"

"Sure." They often ended up having barbecues or simply hanging out with other drivers, their wives and families. She always enjoyed watching Zach with the kids. He probably spent more time with the youngsters than he did with the adults.

They were all on the road together so much that friendships formed. It was like a club or an extended family, and Cammie found herself becoming an accepted member of the club. No one questioned whether she was really Zach's girlfriend, and she couldn't exactly explain that situation, so she kept up the pretense and was grateful to have the other wives and girlfriends to talk to.

These were the women who understood this world and who could help her handle media or aggressive fans and, whether they realized it or not, they gave her insight into what made a driver tick, something she was desperately trying to figure out.

Sometimes she would daydream that she really did belong, but that was crazy thinking, so she'd mentally slapped herself as she hoped Zach's winning streak continued so she had a reason to stay.

Her twelve weeks of stress leave were halfway over. As a cure for stress, joining the NASCAR circuit probably wasn't the most common prescription, but if the idea of stress leave was to get her mind off her job and the messy love triangle of her, Josh, and Dee Dee, then NASCAR had cured her.

She barely thought of Josh expect with mild distaste and she didn't think of her job at all. In six weeks she had to report to her new position as the assistant branch manager of a storefront insurance agency in Burnsville. Her interim position as Zach's good-luck charm was vastly more amusing and with a much better wardrobe.

She'd become comfortable with her new clothes and found that she liked the sunny colors and casual outfits. Her emergency calls to Bex were down to one a week, tops, as she gained confidence in her own choices.

Zach's luck was holding, as was the myth of the cute couple they made.

"Zach?" she said, just before he stepped out.

"Uh-huh?" He paused in the act of shoving one of his endless ball caps on his head.

"Is Macey going to be at the race?"

"She has a condo here. What do you think?"

She rolled her eyes and immediately replanned what she'd wear tomorrow. She had no idea what Zach's ex thought she was up to. Their so-called-and never-ending-honeymoon had mostly been spent as far was Cammie could tell, in popping down to Daytona Beach were Macey's family owned a condo, every time Zach was anywhere near the place.

The charity golf tournament dinner had been a nightmare as Zach held Cammie against him like a shield. Macey had alternately pouted at, flirted with and charmed Zach, while blowing hot and cold on her husband until Cammie ended up with a tension headache.

Not even the prettiest dress she'd ever owned and a couple of dreamy slow dances with Zach had saved the evening from becoming a painful memory.

She watched Zach run his morning practice and only bit through on fingernail.

When he pulled in, he climbed out the window, the same way he'd entered the car. She still wasn't used to cars with no door, stick on decals for headlights or peel-off wrap instead of windshield wipers. It was just plain weird.

Zach walked up to Grant Newman and they talked technical, so the few worlds she caught made no sense. However, Grant soon had a couple of the guys on the team fiddling with the engine while Zach got ready for qualifying.

She wasn't sure if he'd kiss her, since it was, first, a qualifier and second, no media were near. He seemed to hesitate. She felt the eyes of the entire crew on them, and she thought that was what made him move towards her and smack her soundly on the lips. The feeling of relief from the crew was palpable. Amazing. They actually believed the flawed kiss-equals-good-luck equation.

Zach was the fifth fastest time of the forty-three drivers who'd compete tomorrow. That put him in the front group and he seemed pretty jazzed about that. "You always bring me good luck," he said. "Thanks."

She was ready to leave the dirt and oil smells and the noise of the racetrack, but of course their day wasn't over.

Jonas appeared and bundled Zach and her into a limo. They drove to where one of Zach's sponsors, a suntan, lotion, had organized the photo shoot for an ad. Zach was placed in front of one of his cars, with half dozen models all in bikinis. Zach's job was to spread suntan lotion on the women.

He didn't seem to mind time he was putting in at the office at all.

After she'd watched him slather a ridiculous amount of lotion on a ridiculous amount of nubile skin, they were finally allowed to leave. She saw one of the girls whisper in his ear, an obvious invitation. Zach pulled his I'm-too-sexy-for-car act and pocketed a slip of paper the model handed him.

Oh, great.

"I hope I didn't spoil your fun," she said, when they were loaded back in the limo.

"Not at all. Those girls wanted to go party, but I explained you and I already plans."

"They were jailbait, anyway." She wanted to get a few things straight, but not with Joe listening to every wood. Besides, she didn't get a chance. Zach's cell phone went off.

She knew it was Macey the minute he started talking. She spent most of the limo ride talking to Jonas and resisting the urge to bash Zach with the bottle of suntan lotion she'd been given.

Macey and Preston showed up at the race the next day, as Cammie had known they would, but Macey was surprisingly low-key for once. Cammie worse a pretty apricot-colored gauzy sundress and put extra effort into kissing Zach both before and especially after he place third.

Amazingly, the ex-wife didn't even try to get the four of them out for dinner together or some other horrendous double date, perhaps because she sensed Cammie would make up an excuse not to go.

She was congratulating herself on Zach ease out of his ex-wife's clutches when he told her he'd be staying an extra day in Daytona Beach. Zach had agreed to visit the children's ward of a local hospital. The visit wasn't on his schedule, she knew, since she kept a copy of his itinerary on her laptop computer. It helped her feel organized and have some structure to her life to look ahead at events she'd take part in.

The next morning, they set off in a car he'd borrowed from a local dealership. She wondered if his driving it for a day would up the sticker price. It was nice, driving alone with Zach. There was no Jonas from marketing, no Joe from PR; it was only the two of them, which was rare, she realized. Then she made the mistake of flanking at the speedometer.

"I've never been to Florida before this year," she said, for something to say, to keep her mind off the face that he was driving much too fast in her opinion. "It's beautiful."

He shot her a glance and she bit her tongue to prevent herself from snapping at him to keep his eyes on the road. "The tourism people will be real happy to head that."

Not only did his eyes move from what they should be doing, but now his hand joined in leaving the steering wheel to land on her knee, warm and heavy. His fingers toyed with the hem of her flowered summer dress and moved against her skin. He did that sometimes, touched her in a way that was both friendly and something more. However, she was starting to see through his tricks to understand that he used his warmth and undeniable charm for his own ends. "You're trying to distract me," she said.

"From what?" He sounded all innocent, but the scar was changing shape, from an L to a C, always a sign that he was amused and trying not to show it.

"From the fact that you're doing sixty-four in a fifty-five-mile zone."

"You know how fast I was going when I won at Talladega?"

She started to remind him that this wasn't a controlled racetrack but her insatiable love of numbers got in the way. "How fast?"

"Average speed was one-eighty-four miles an hour and change."

She glanced at the speedometer again. "I can't even imagine how fast that is. What's it like?"

He played with the hem of her dress absently while he thought, and she tried to ignore the sensation of warmth fluttering through her. "When you go that fast, the noises of the tires on the road surface are like high-pitched whine. The g-force sucks you into the seat and it's hot. Like sitting on top of a furnace."

"Wow."

"There's no room to think of anything. I'm working with the car. Reading it's signals, talking to Grant. Working our strategy."

"Is it noisy?" She thought about how she'd felt the physical impact of all that noise the first time she'd seen a race. The fans, the cars, the booming microphones.

"I don't notice the noise. Sometimes I get out of the car and hear all those fans yelling, and I'm a little bit surprised I'd almost forgotten they were there."

"That's some focus."

He nodded not speaking.

Another couple of miles rolled by. "Why do you do it?" she asked suddenly.

"Do what? Tease you? Because you're so uptight, it's the—"

"No. Not that. Racing. Why do you race?"

He glanced over. "You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Is this going to end up in you telling me I'm eleven point four times more likely to be involved in a car crash than a person who stays in their basement watching televised bowling? Because I have to tell you, that is getting old."

"No, I'm—"

"Has it occurred to you that you are eleven point four times more likely to get into trouble hanging around with me than if you'd gone home to your regular life?"

"Oh, yes. That has definitely occurred to me." The funny thing was that she couldn't seem to care. Of course her time with Zach was short she was on holiday from her own life, like any holiday it would end, hopefully with no regrets and some pleasant memories.

The wind whipped through her hair and she tipped her face up to the sun. Zach turned up the CD player for a song he liked. The music was too loud and the increased volume wasn't making her change her mind about country music, but it kept right on wailing whether she minded or not.

"You want to know why I race," he said at last, shouting above the music.

"Yes." She hadn't thought he'd answer and was content to let it go, but she was curious as to what he'd say.

"I like the rush. I like the speed. I like the challenge."

"And you like the attention from the fans," she added.

He shot her a crooked smirk. "I didn't say that."

She wrinkled her nose in thought, recalling the races she'd seen so far. "What about the crowds, the women, the…adulation?"

He looked right at her. "The women are nice. Definitely."

Even thought she wasn't in the league of some of the women she'd seen hanging around the drivers, she appreciated the flattery. It wasn't as though she'd received so much of it in her life that it was tedious.

However, watching him take numbers from models and chat to his ex was starting to get on her nerves.

She reached forward and turned down the music.

"Uh-oh," he said.

"I wanted to…um…talk about something."

"The kissing thing?"

Persistence, she reminded herself. In interpersonal communication, persistence was often required to ensure her message was correctly received. "Well, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You didn't like the kiss yesterday? Or were you disappointed we only came in third? Honey, I have to tell you, the luck is holding. I can't win every race, but our team is doing better than we've done all season. You really are our lucky charm."

"You don't seriously believe that."

"I believe the results speak for themselves."

"The thing is, I thought our time together would end sooner, that the good-luck thing wouldn't hold up."

All amusement was gone from his face. She even felt the car slow as though the gravity of the situation was communicating itself to the engine. "What are you saying?"

"Everyone things I'm really your girlfriend."

"Right. Which was out plan. So?"

"Maybe this is crazy. I know I'm only your pretend girlfriend, but I'd appreciate fidelity."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Gallagher girl. All we do is a little kissing thing."

She felt foolish but she was a woman of strong morals, and even in a pretend relationship it was important for her to believe in her man. "I know. But if you are seen with other women, it makes me look foolish." She said shrugging in defeat.

"So now you're asking for an exclusive on my lips."

She gaped at him and caught the crinkle around his eyes that told her he was teasing her again.

"Oh, just forget I ever spoke," she snapped and turned up the volume on the car's CD player.

With a click the music was silenced completely, and the car made a neat little S. Suddenly they were pulled over into a picnic area.

Zach opened his door and got out, strolling over to check out the graffiti on a picnic table. She got out and stretched her back, then walked over to join him.

"You want a drink?" he asked, heading for a soda machine.

"Thanks. Sparkling water or juice if there is any."

He fed coins into the machine and came over with a couple of cans passing her one.

Her stomach felt jumpy and she wondered if the greatest adventure of her life was about to end. She probably should have kept her mouth shut, but she knew she couldn't do that. She needed to be honest and she needed to keep her dignity, whatever the cost.

"Here's the thing," he said, looking at the table rather than her. "I asked you to help me out of a jam and you did. I asked you to act like you were crazy about me and you did that too."

She nodded slowly glancing at him.

"Now we've worked so hard to convince Macey that we're an item, I'd be crazy to go out with other women, right?"

"I suppose. If she was going to find out."

"Oh, she'd find out. You don't know Macey. She still has friends who are married to or girlfriends of the guys. They fill her in on everything."

"I saw you take that model's phone number, after the ad shoot."

He made an embarrassed face. "It was a reflex. I didn't want to hurt her feeling, so I took it. You didn't see me throw the paper away later."

"No. But the point is you took it, which made me feel slighted."

"Gallagher girl, I'm sorry. I wasn't going to phone that girl, and there was nowhere to put that paper if I gave it back to her."

"There was quite a bit of room in her bra cup. At least a D's worth."

"I should have thought about your feelings. You're right. But believe me, I'm not going to date anyone while you're around."

"You won't date anyone else so that Macey doesn't find out?" And her confidence was at an all-time high.

"No. That's one reason. I also heard what you said. You don't want to share."

"Right."

"I respect that. I don't want to share you, either."

"You don't?"

He gazed at her over his drink can, eyes narrowed against the sun.

She felt a huge sense of relief, but didn't seem to be having the same reaction to their little talk. In fact, she realized when he finished drinking that he wasn't done talking.

"I didn't make any promises, Cammie, and I won't be making any."

"Promises?" What promises?

"You're a nice woman. You also seem like the kind who wants to settle down and have a few kids in the near future so you can calculate the offs that they get into med school or Yale, or that they'll break their arm if they take up softball. Am I right?"

She decided to ignore his animadversions on her professional background. "I do plan to get married someday and hope to raise a family. Yes."

"Just so we're both clear on that, I'm not your guy."

She was so surprised she chocked on her juice, and then got caught between a laugh and a cough so that it gurgled up into her nose and burned. "Ow, ow," she cried, digging in her bag for a tissue.

He slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her out. "You okay?"

She nodded and waved him back. When she had blown her nose and composed herself, she started at him.

"You think I would want to marry you?"

He blinked at her as though she'd asked the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "I'd prefer you didn't, but just for the record what is so hysterically funny about the idea."

She smiled at him, a big, happy sunbeam of a smile that showed all her teeth. "You are exactly what I need right now and I will always be grateful that you told me to jump into your car in Charlotte. I love being your good-luck charm and I can probably get used to the noise and the smell of the racetrack, given time, but there's no long-term for us. There couldn't be."

"Right. Right. That's what I'm saying." He kicked some gravel around with his feet. "I know why I think that, but why do you?"

She gaped at him. "Zach, you would be a terrible husband and father." Realizing how rude that sounded, she hastily added, "For me, I mean. You're so restless and on the road so much. I'm looking for a family man."

"So, I'm an unacceptable risk as a husband and father, that's what you're saying?"

Glad he understood her so well, she said, "Yes."

"You've calculated it all out with a calculator and a spreadsheet. I'm good enough for a few kisses and some laughs."

"Exactly. A monogamous pretend relationship."

"Well, Gallagher girl, it looks like we've got a deal, because we both want the same thing, and we're both agreed I'd make a lousy dad."

There was a note of bitterness that broke through his cheerful tone and caused her brow to furrow. Something was going on here that she didn't understand. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful father." She thought of all the times he'd spent an extra minute with one of his younger fans, and how all the kids of the others drivers treated him like a favorite big brother. He always had time to kick a football around or joke or talk sports. "I didn't mean—"

He tossed his drink can into the recycling container and started walking back to his car. "Let's go."

As they continued the drive, she was desperate to change the subject. "How are you going to entertain a bunch of sick kids? Some of whom, I hate to tell you, might not be racing fans."

"I have hidden talents, my friend."

"Do you?"

"I can make an entire menagerie of balloon animals. Poodles, lions, water buffalo, you name it."

"Really?" She was delighted, especially since he'd obviously decided to let his weird mood go. Zach—the easy going, laid-back, fun guy—had returned. "What a great talent to have."

She loved this part of the world, the vast sandy beaches, so different from the cold, brittle Minnesota air; the Atlantic; the hot weather, she loved it. She loved having time alone with Zach and, as awkward as the conversation had been, she was glad they'd talked about the importance of fidelity in their fake relationship.

"So, who booked you for this?"

There was a pause. "Macey."

So much for fidelity. "Macey? You've barely got any time in your schedule and you're going this for Macey?"

"I'm doing it for some kids who could use a laugh," he reminded her.

"And your clingy ex-wife isn't going to be anywhere near, right?"

"Of course she'll be there. She's the one who set this up."

Zach answered questions that were fired at him faster than ones at any media scrum she's ever seen. A dozen or so kids were assembled in the ward, and whether or not they knew who Zach was, they seemed pretty excited.

"What's the fastest you ever drove?"

"About two hundred miles an hour."

"Do you have kids?"

"No."

"Are you a millionaire?" Giggles.

"Yep."

"Is that your girlfriend?"

Zach raised his head and caught sight of Cammie standing in the doorway. A beat passes. There were no media here, no Macey or crowds of fans for who the deception matted. "Yep," he said again, and dropped his gaze back to the group of kids.

"What's her name?"

"Cammie."

This was the guy who'd told her he'd be a terrible father?

"Where's Macey?" Cammie asked him when there was a short pause.

"I don't know. She's suppose to be here, with the balloons."

"Got it. Keep talking. Tell them some of your charming anecdotes. I'll be right back."

He had a bag of ball caps that he'd planned to sign and give out at the end of the show, but Cammie handed it to him now, figuring a change in the program would give her more time to find balloons.

She ran out, cursing Macey all the way to the car. She asked for help in a bakery that specialized in kids' birthday cakes and was directed to a strip mall to find the right kinds of balloons for twisted into animals. Then she got lost trying to find the strip mall.

Cammie came dangerously close to breaking the speed limit on her way back to the hospital.

As soon as she returned with the balloons to the fifth-floor children's ward, she felt a buzz in the air. There was a lot of noise and laughter coming from the open doorway.

When she peeked in the doorway she saw Zach, sitting on a table and surrounded by kids. Kids on crutches, in wheelchairs, kids dragging IV poles and oxygen tanks. No matter how pale or thin, they were all laughing. Many of them held balloon animals, like the one Zach was currently fashioning.

She let out a shaky breath and slid quietly into the room, putting down the bag of balloons. Macey was there, standing unnecessarily close to Zach, handing him balloons.

She wanted to be angry, but Macey actually looked as if she cared about these kids and, whatever her motive it was a good thing. Joe would love this, she thought. What a great photo op. But Joe wasn't here. The media wasn't here. It was Zach and a bunch of kids.

Zach talked while he twisted balloons into what she thought was a giraffe. The way he talked to the shy young girl who was waiting for her giraffe made Cammie's heart flip over. She had long blond hair, a pretty hair and a clear breathing tube connected to a portable oxygen tank. She wore jeans and a T-shirt that announced a fun run in aid of cystic fibrosis funding.

Decided that she wasn't needed, and she'd rather drink hospital machine coffee than hang around watching Macey drool on Zach, she headed back to a seating area she'd noted when they first came in. To her surprise, she found Preston sitting stiffly in one of the chairs flipping through an ancient Reader's Digest. He was the only person there.

"Preston," she said.

He glanced up, nodded, then put down his magazine. "Cammie. I thought you'd be helping with the balloons."

"I think Zach's getting plenty of help. Macey is sitting so close to him you'd think she was a ventriloquists and she was his dummy," she snapped, and then gasped at her own rudeness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Macey is never subtle," Preston said. As if that was breaking news.

She nodded.

He picked up a well-thumbed and unsanitary-looking magazine from the stack and then put it down again. He turned to her. "You're probably wondering why I let her treat me this way."

In fact, she'd been wondering that since their wedding day when she first met the three of them. Since he'd opened the door to discussing his private life, she was happy to walk through it.

"Why do you?" she asked, sitting beside him on a brown vinyl chair.

"I love her," he said simply.

Somehow, coming from this pompous, too-rich guy, the words sounded more sincere than anything else he'd ever said in her company.

What could she say? Macey spent a lot more time trying to talk to Zach into getting back together than she did basking in the love of her new husband. She glanced at him uncertainly.

"She loves me, too," he said. Okay, there was the blind ego she'd come to know and not love. He glanced her way and his lips tilted as though he'd read her mind. "She really does love me. She simply hasn't accepted it yet."

"When do you see her doing that?"

"A lot depend on you."

"Me?" Shock had her squeaking out the word like a very inquisitive mouse.

"Why do you think Macey keeps wanting to do these horrendous double dates?"

"I was thinking it was some kind of torture ritual." She said sheepishly.

He smiled slightly and shook his head. "She's watching you. Macey is a…complicated woman. Our background, the three of us, it's complicated, too. Think about it." Here he allowed himself another small, amused smile. "She was the prettiest girl in the town. In the country. I was in love with her from the second I saw her in high school. I mean real, love-at-first-sight stuff."

"Wow. And you waited all this time?" And for what, she wondered, but a big dose of heartache.

"Macey and Zachary were the golden couple growing up. High school prom king and queen, you know the types."

Oh, she did. She'd watched those types from afar all her life.

He took a breath and she saw in that moment the pain of heartbreak he'd endured, that young success story who could get everything he wanted but the girl he loved. "So I got on with my life. Went to Harvard, learned some skills that I hope will keep our factory competitive and our labor force working for the next couple of decades." He glanced at her.

"You didn't marry a nice MBA or law grad?"

"No. I kept waiting, hoping Mace would come to her senses. I could see they were all wrong for each other."

"And yet Zach married Daisy." She blinked, realizing she'd let her private name slip. "I mean, Macey."

But Preston was chuckling. "Daisy as in the Gatsby's Daisy? Not a bad parallel. I hope I end up better than Gatsby, though."

"I hope so, too," she said, thinking more than just Macey's happiness was at stake. "Can't you take Macey away from here? Spending so much time hanging around her ex-husband can't be a good idea."

"I could, of course, find an excuse to take her away from Zachary, but then she's never going to realized that she's over him. Has been over him for years. She not only loves me, but she needs me. I give her stability and—" he sent Cammie a swift, rueful glance "—she gives me excitement."

He might be right that Macey was in love with him. Cammie had seen no evident of it at all, however. Also, she could see what Preston obviously couldn't. Put the two men together and Zach, with his easy charm and slight air of danger, was by far more interesting.

Again, it seemed as though Preston read her thoughts. "I don't pretend to be an exciting man like Zach. I don't even want to be. If you weren't around, I'd be dragging Macey home, but Mace isn't as dumb as she appears. I think she is finally starting to realized that you and Zach have something special and it's letting her accept the possibility that she and I have something special."

"But she's hooked on that reading from her astrologer telling her that she's destined to end up with a man from her past."

He sighed heavily. "Does no on consider the possibility that I am a man from her past."

"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It only matters what Macey thinks," she reminded him.

"Right. And she's starting to think that maybe Zachary finally found someone who is right for him. When she gives up the idea of getting back together with him, she'll see what's under her nose."

"How can you live like this?" she burst out.

He picked up an ancient Golf Magazine and straightened it on top of an old National Geographic. "I miscalculated. I made the foolish mistake of thinking that Macey looked on marriage the way most of us do—as a permanent arrangement, not an excuse for a party."

"I'm sure she wants her marriage to last," Cammie said, more as a sympathetic gesture than that she really thought anything of the kind.

"I'm sure she does, too. And when she sees how happy you and Zachary are, she's going to forget about that astrologer. Cammie, I'm counting on you."

"I'm not what you think I am," she said suddenly, because in the face of such raw honesty she found she couldn't lie to Harrison.

"You don't know what I think you are, so that is a ridiculous statement."

"What I'm trying to say is—"

"Don't forget I've know Zachary as long as I've known Macey. He may hate my guys, but it doesn't stop me from understanding him in a way I doubt he understands himself." He looked at her fully. "He's as terrified of commitment as Macey is. Don't run away. He'll do his best to drive you away, but don't go. I don't mean to be dramatic, but I think all our happiness depends on you."

"Our entire relationship is a pretense," she snapped, unable to stop the words she'd promised not to utter. "The whole thing's an act to make Macey leave him alone."

"Sure it is," said Preston with a knowing arch of the eyebrow that made her want to smack him.

She walked to the vending machine and got herself a coffee. She offered Preston one, but he simply looked at her as if she was out of her mind for drinking that stuff. But then he hadn't run all around a strange town in a panicky search for balloons that turned out not to be needed.

All our happiness depends on you, Preston had said,

She returned to her chair and sat down. She sipped her coffee.

"Okay," she said. "This is none of my business." It was also risky to give personal advice to a man she barely knew, and she didn't usually take emotional risks. Hanging around with Zach was making her as crazy as he was. "But you're making it too easy for Macey."

He looked at her strangely. "I beg your pardon?"

"I know. This is pushy and I am never pushy, but I can't seem to help myself."

"You've been spending too much time with Zach."

She smiled at the way they both assumed Zach was responsible for her changing. "Probably.

"Go on. I suppose I'm desperate enough to take advice from someone who is as hopelessly in love with Zach as I am with Macey."

She blinked and experienced an odd sensation, as though she were about to pass out. "I'm not hopelessly…" She couldn't finish the sentence because she'd always tried to tell the truth and even as she formed the words to deny his charge, she realized he was right. She was in love with Zach. And hopeless didn't begin to describe it.

His face softened and he leaned over to touch her shoulder. "Sorry. Maybe it's not hopeless. What do I know? I should have known it was hopeless when I married Macey."

"No. Your marriage wasn't a mistake." She pushed thoughts of her own romantic troubles aside. "Macey is confused, that's all. She left Zach once and for good reason. You're right. Those two are all wrong for each other. They're too alike. Anyone can see—"

"You can see it and I can see it, but we aren't exactly objective observers."

"Right." She sighed."

"But I'll try anything. What do you think I should do?"

She sipped her coffee again. "What Macey does so well. Play hard to get."

"Excuse me, but I already graduated from high school."

"Maybe, but this crazy love-hate triangle with the three of you sure hasn't."

"And how do you suggest I play hard to get with my own wife?"

"Stop coming with her when she follows Zach around. It can't be any fun."

"Having my liver chewed by cockroaches would be more fun."

"Exactly."

"But…I don't know. If I'm not there she might do something crazy."

"I know. She might convince him to get back together."

"It's a big risk."

"For both of us."

He sat back. Drummed his fingers on the knee of his impeccable trousers. "I've got business at home that can't wait. I shouldn't be hanging around like this as it is."

He stood, paused there another moment, and then, with a sudden nod, as though he'd just made up his mind about something, started walking down the hall in the direction of the balloon party with such determination in his stride that she had to job to catch up.

The balloon animals were all done, and Macey and Zach were spending one-on-one time with a couple of kids. Macey had a little girl about two sitting in her lap, playing with her hair. There were bandages on the girl's legs.

Zach was talking quietly to a couple of older boys while a nurse listened in.

"Macey," Preston said, putting his head into the room. "I'm heading back, Are you coming with me, or do you want to catch up later?"

His wife glanced up in surprise as did Zach. This was the first tiny test. Would Macey choose Zach or Preston.

She wavered, and then looked into the sleepy face of the child still playing with her hair. "I'll come later," she whispered.

Preston sent Cammie a thanks-for-nothing glance and walked away.

Zach didn't appear any more pleased, but after about fifteen minutes, when the child in her lap was sound asleep, Macey and one of the nurses left to put the sleeping child into her crib.

Macey returned a few minutes later and said, "Well, I'd better be on my way. I'll see you two soon."

"Don't you want a ride back?"

She hesitated. "No. I'll get a cab." With a wave, she was gone.

Cammie let out a breath of relief. Preston hadn't won this, but he hadn't lost it, either. It was more of a draw.

"Ready?" Zach said when even the eager young boys had wandered off to watch TV.

She looked at him, at that tough, wonderful face. Preston had been so right. She'd gone and fallen in love with Zach. Dangerous to her heart, terrible risk as a future mate, the man she wanted to spend her life with: Zach.

Ready? Of course she wasn't ready.

Cammie had never been a woman who went after the stars. She calculated the odds and made sure her goals stayed within reach.

Why?

Why did she sell herself so short?

More to the point, her strategy hadn't worked out very well. Her very achievable fiancé was a rat and the company she'd spent all her working life with hadn't stood by her the minute she hit a patch of trouble.

Loving Zach was a risk. Not a risk she could afford, since she didn't believe in taking unnecessary chances. And yet, she didn't believe in the concept of luck, either, and here she was a walking, talking, rabbit's foot. A personal four-leaf clover.

Maybe, she thought, as she stood there, accepting the truth that she'd fallen in love with Zach, maybe some risks were worth taking. A new and potent sense of her own worth percolated through her system. She'd always been content to shoot for the horizon rather than the stars. She'd always assumed it was her personality; now she wondered if she'd simply been too scared to reach beyond her comfort zone.

Since she's been flung so far out of her comfort zone, it was like viewing her life from space. She'd had more fun than ever before. She was respected—okay, wished upon—and valued.

As insight into her life grew, so did the knowledge that she saw in the devil-may-care race car driver a man who was in some ways as fundamentally conservative as she was.

Why?

Why did a man who so obviously loved kids and who was so comfortable with the other drivers' families warn her away from himself as a long-term risk? It was easy to believe that he'd tried to warn her away because she wasn't pretty enough or hot enough or woman enough, but somehow her self-esteem had grown in the short time she'd been with Zach and she saw that he sincerely did believe he was somehow lacking.

Again, why?

It was no longer idle speculation. She really wanted to know, because now she realized she loved him, Cammie—the new and improved Cammie—wasn't about to let him go without a fight.

Next time on Falling into Place…

"What does a NASCAR drivier look for in a woman?"

"Shoot. I thought you were going to ask me something easy, like how to calculate the g-force based on wind velocity and metal mass of a car's chassis."

Okay… so now that this long need chapter is done. I need to explain myself. Life has been rough for me. My parents are going through a divorce right now, my sister is pregnant again, I just went through my freshman year of high school and am now going into my sophomore year with no club where I fit. I have two groups of people I hang out with, but I don't exactly fit in like I'm there and friends with them but, I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid. But I'm going to try and get chapters up faster if I can while juggling school and everything. So please don't give up on me or this story and thank you to everyone who hasn't given up yet.