“Was that legal?”
He didn’t understand the question.
“Is there a limit on how far I can jump off the wall?”
“You didn’t jump.”
“Yeah, I did.” She sat up. “That was a jump. Am I disqualified?”
“No. You fell, Mila. You need medical attention.”
“I’ll get it later.” She tried to get to her feet.
“Will you stop?”
“Will you back off?”
“You could be hurt.”
“I’m not hurt.” She successfully staggered to her feet. “Will you quit coddling me? I’m not a woman. I’m a security agent. And I’m fine to carry on.”
“You’re down to fifteen minutes.”
She squared her shoulders. “I know.”
“You’ll never finish.”
She started walking toward the balance beam. Then she gave her head a shake and broke into a trot.
He wanted to stop her. Every instinct inside him told him she shouldn’t be here. This was never intended for a woman. After the balance beam was a mud-and-wire crawl, and then it was a hundred push-ups, the dummy drag and a tire climb. And that was all before the final two-mile run to the finish line.
She was halfway through the wire crawl when the horn sounded. She stopped, groaned and did a face-plant into the mud.
Any sane person would be glad it was over. She didn’t look glad. Then again, she didn’t seem sane, either.
“Mila?” He approached her.
She didn’t answer.
“Are you breathing?”
She gave a weak nod.
He stepped into the obstacle and parted two of the wires, making a hole for her. He wanted to reach out and help her to her feet, but there was no way for him to do both.
She came up on her hands and knees, then she slowly rose, the weight of the mud adding twenty pounds. She staggered to one side and he grabbed her, wrapping an arm firmly around her shoulders.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m disappointed.” She swiped a hand across her face, removing some of the mud, smearing the rest.
She’d have looked comical if he hadn’t felt so much pity for her.
“You did better than I expected,” he told her.
“But not good enough.”
“You didn’t give up.”
“No thanks to you.” She smacked him in the center of the chest.
It didn’t hurt, but there was a level of power to the blow that was impressive given her exhausted state.
“I was afraid you’d hurt yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m a girl. Therefore, I can’t hack it.”
“Nobody ‘hacks it’ through a broken leg.”
“My legs aren’t broken.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“See?” She shrugged out of his grip and started walking. “Working perfectly.”
She swayed again, and he looped an arm around her waist this time.
“Not perfect,” he said. “But not broken.”
“I’m just a little tired.” She shook out her hands. “And a little dirty.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that. She was a mud slick from head to toe. He didn’t know how she’d get it all out of her hair.
“Can you point me to the showers?”
“We don’t have a women’s facility.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.” There was no way in the world he’d allow her to strip down in the men’s locker room.
He helped her into a nearby company jeep for the quarter mile back to the course’s start and finish line at the Pinion building. “You can shower in my bathroom.”
She looked horrified. “I’m not going upstairs like this. I’ll ruin your apartment.”
He couldn’t care less about his apartment right now. But she was probably right.
“Fine,” he said as he drove down the road that circled the course. “We’ll rinse you off in the locker room. Fully clothed. Then you can come upstairs.”
“And flood your carpets?”
“They’ll survive.” He pulled up to the back entrance of the building.
Vegas was there to meet them.
“You did great,” he told Mila.
“For a girl,” she grumbled as she climbed from the vehicle.
Vegas held out a hand to help, but she pointedly ignored it.
“She’s a little testy,” Troy explained to Vegas.
She rounded on Troy. “Must you always frame my behavior as emotional?” She looked at Vegas. “She’s a little tired, and a little grimy. And you’re a little condescending!”
Vegas fought a grin. “You earned me fifty bucks.”
She looked confused.
“I had you timing out at the wire crawl. I was the most optimistic of everybody.”
Mila’s eyes narrowed in her muddy face. “You bet on me?”
“Sure. A bunch of the agents did.”
She shot an accusing look at Troy. “You, too?”
“He had you on the rope wall,” Vegas interjected.
“That’s why you tried to stop me there?”
Troy was insulted. “Yeah,” he said dryly. “I was desperate for the fifty bucks.”
She glared at him. But she had to know the idea was preposterous.
“Let’s get you into a shower,” he said. “You’re a mess.”
Her hand went to her drying cheek, and she rubbed ineffectively at the grit.
“You’d have to pay money for that at a spa,” said Vegas.
“You just can’t stop making the girl jokes, can you?”
Troy stepped back in. “And you can’t control your hypersensitivity.”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are. Come on.” He canted his head toward the door and started walking.
It didn’t take her long to follow.
“You’re going to have to let them tease you,” he told her as she came up beside him, though he wasn’t sure why he was giving her the benefit of the advice. “If a guy’s short, he gets teased. If he’s slow, same thing. If he’s particularly strong, or if he knows gourmet food, or if he’s a good shot. Whatever it is, positive or negative, it gets noted and acknowledged. You’re a woman, Mila. It’s not something they can ignore.”
He reached out to open the door.
“What I can’t get past,” she said as they worked their way down a narrow hallway, “is that it’s a showstopper. Sure, maybe it’s not a strength in every circumstance. Mostly it’s neutral. But around here, it’s unforgivable.”
“It’s noticeable.” He pushed open the locker room door and called out to see if anyone was inside.
Not that the guys would care about Mila walking in on them. But he didn’t think she needed an eyeful.
There was no answer, so he led her inside.
She trailed after him. “So is red hair.”
“And red hair will get you teased.” He gestured to the back of the locker room, the painted brick doorway that led to the communal showers. “Have at it.”
She kicked off her shoes, stripped off her socks and carried them into the shower room.
He heard the water splash against the concrete floor.
“You’re telling me I should chill out,” she called.
He moved closer so that she would hear him. “I am.”
“Why?”
“So people will know you have an appreciable sense of humor. They’ll know you can take it. They’ll know they don’t have to walk on eggshells around you.”
He realized he didn’t have to stand outside and shout. She wasn’t taking off her clo
thes. There was no social prohibition against seeing her wet. He stepped into the shower room.
Her eyes were closed under the spray, and she kept her voice raised. “I mean, why would you help me?”
“I’m right here.”
Her eyes popped open. It was good to see her regular face again. Damn, she was gorgeous. Even with her hair plastered against her head and her tank top sticking—
He quickly dragged his gaze from her breasts.
“Why should I trust your advice? You don’t want me here. You don’t want me to win over any of your team.”
“Maybe I’m just a nice guy.”
“You’re a tough guy. And you’re a smart guy. But you’re definitely not nice.”
He supposed that was true. So why was he helping her? The potential answer was unsettling. “Maybe I’m trying to seduce you.”
Watching the water cascade over her, he realized it was a completely plausible answer. It made him feel slightly better.
“It’s not going to work,” she answered tartly.
The outer door opened, and Troy turned toward the sound. “Female inside,” he shouted out.
Then he realized how this was going to look. He quickly made for the exit to explain the situation. It was Edison, and he seemed to accept Troy’s story at face value.
When Troy returned to the shower room, the water was off. Mila had helped herself to a towel and was patting down her clothes. Her rinsed runners and socks were on the tile floor, and Troy retrieved them.
“Shall we go do this for real now?” he asked.
* * *
Later, as she came out of Troy’s guest bathroom, Mila detected the unmistakable aromas of sausage, tomato, bread and cheese. Her stomach rumbled, drawing her down the short hallway to the living room.
She was dressed in a black cotton robe that fell past her knees and wrapped nearly twice around her body. When Kassidy arrived, she’d see if she could borrow something that was a better fit. She sure couldn’t go home dressed like this.
She found Troy on the sofa, a pizza box and two bottles of beer on the coffee table.
“You ordered pizza.” She couldn’t quite control the reverence in her tone.
He tossed her a grin. “I hope you like sausage and mushroom.”
“Love it.” She made a beeline for the coffee table. “I swear, I could ki—”
She quickly checked herself. No, she couldn’t kiss him for ordering pizza. That was entirely inappropriate.
“Whatever you were about to say,” he drawled, searching her expression. “I wouldn’t tell you no.”
She busied herself settling on the opposite end of the sofa, making sure the robe completely covered her thighs. “It was nothing.”
“You sure?”
She kept her gaze away from his. “I’m sure.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” He stretched out to hand her a napkin. “But if you change your mind...”
“I won’t.”
“In that case, dig in.”
She realized she was too starving to be proud. She reached out and peeled back the cardboard lid, helping herself to a generous slice.
Troy twisted the caps off the bottles of beer and slid one of them down the table in front of her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered automatically. Then she took a first bite of the pizza. It was delicious.
“What’s sore?”
She swallowed, trying not to let the power of suggestion cause her to stretch out her aching muscles. “Nothing much. I’m mostly starving.”
“Liar,” he said softly. Then he helped himself to a slice.
It occurred to her that honesty would likely impress him more than bravado.
“Everything’s slightly achy,” she admitted. “But it won’t take me long to recover. When can I go again? Maybe Wednesday, before Kassidy’s next performance?”
Troy looked genuinely surprised by the question. “You want to try again?”
Did he think a single setback would make her give up?
“I absolutely want to try again.”
“You nearly killed yourself out there.”
“I’m a long way from dead.” She took another bite.
She’d been going over the course in her mind, and she understood where she’d made some of her mistakes. Upper-body strength was her biggest problem. She needed to pace herself on some of the obstacles, kick her running speed up a notch to buy herself some more time. Then be really methodical on the climbing walls and hold something back for the dummy drag.
Troy watched her while they ate.
His perceptive gaze was unnerving, and she finally couldn’t stand it anymore.
“What?” she asked him.
“I don’t get you.”
“There’s nothing to get.” She washed down the pizza with swallows of the beer.
“You could get another job,” he continued. “Easily. You’ve got skills. You’re not stupid.”
“Thanks so much,” she mocked, setting the bottle on a cork coaster on the coffee table.
He set down his own beer, sat up straight and eased slightly closer. “Why me?”
She straightened, matching his body posture and meeting his gaze. “Pinion is the best.”
“I’m not going to argue with that.”
“A topic of agreement?” She couldn’t help but joke. “How long did that take us?”
But Troy remained serious. “Why do you need to work for the best?”
“Why would I want to work for second best?”
“Because it’s a better option.”
She shook her head. “For a Stern, it’s not an option at all.”
His brows went up. “Do tell.”
She hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring him into her confidence. Her family dynamics were none of his business. And letting him see any vulnerability was a definite risk.
“You brought it up,” he said.
“It’s nothing.”
“Let me be the one to decide.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m your boss.” He shifted, closing the space between them. “And you’re trying to impress me. Maybe this will impress me. I like honesty, Mila. I don’t like secrets.”
She accepted his point. The motivations and psychological health of security agents were relevant to their job performance.
“My family prides itself on achievement,” she said.
“Achievement?”
“High achievement. Like my mother, the superior court judge, or my father, the esteemed university professor with tenure, and my brothers. One’s been captaining a military cruiser at a ridiculously young age, and the other is a decorated Green Beret. And then there’s my sister, the lawyer, already on a partnership track at Cable, Swift and Bradner.”
Troy seemed to consider her words. “You’re the youngest.”
“How did you know?”
“You’re obviously playing catch-up.”
“They all had a head start.”
There was sympathy in his eyes, an apparent understanding. She hadn’t expected that.
“What about you?” she asked.
“My company’s doing great.”
“Your family. What did they expect from you?”
“Ah, my family.” He sat back, stretching his arm along the back of the sofa.
The arm wasn’t around her, but it was close, and her body reacted with awareness. In fact, it was more than awareness. It was arousal. She took in his square chin, his softening eyes, his full, dark lips, the broad chest and firm abs beneath his black T-shirt. The temperature in the room seemed to move up a notch.
/> “Kassidy and me,” he said. “That’s all there is.”
“Your parents?”
“Mine are both dead. Kassidy’s mom is still alive, but, well, we don’t talk about her.”
“You’re an orphan?”
He cracked a smile. “I’m thirty years old. I was in my twenties when I lost each of my parents.”
Mila felt vaguely guilty for criticizing her own family. There wasn’t anything to criticize, really. The flaws lay with her, not with them.
“Do you miss them?” she asked.
“We’re not talking about me.”
She felt a whisper of a touch and realized it was on her hair. Troy was fondling her damp hair. Desire glowed in her belly, radiating out.
“Chilly?” he asked in a whisper.
“No.”
His touch grew bolder, his broad fingers running against her scalp, along the length of her hair. “You’re still damp.”
Her skin tingled at his touch. “I’m drying.”
He drew his hand through her hair again.
She knew she should push him away, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She was trapped by his blue-eyed gaze, mesmerized by the heat of his hand, enticed by his scent.
He cradled her cheek with his hand, shifting closer. His thigh brushed hers, and his thumb stroked the corner of her mouth.
She desperately wanted his kiss. She remembered every nuance of his mouth, the taste, the texture. Her imagination took flight. He’d press his lips to hers, kiss her deeply. His other hand would go to her waist, cradling her ribs, pulling her tight, or maybe slipping beneath the robe.
Her nipples tingled and tightened in response to the image. His fingertips were rough, just callused enough to be masculine. His hands were strong. He could pull her tight, envelope her in an overwhelming embrace. It would feel so good.
Then he spoke, and his voice was a low, pained growl, and she realized he hadn’t moved an inch. “We have to do something about this.”
She blinked him back into focus.
“I want you pretty bad,” he continued. “And you’re not shutting me down.”
Her lips parted. She didn’t want to admit it, but she couldn’t lie to him, either.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he rasped.
“We can’t,” she managed. She needed him to take her seriously.
The Baby Contract Page 9