The scroll bar was 20 percent done. In about two minutes, she’d know her score on the exam.
“I didn’t downplay anything,” she said, dragging her gaze from the screen to Troy. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You want to blame the boss?”
“I want to acknowledge the truth.” She glanced back to the screen. Forty-seven percent done.
He moved toward her. “The truth is Kassidy was accosted last night.”
“It was a fan taking a selfie.” Mila stood so he wouldn’t tower over her.
“We’re putting together a formal protection plan.”
“Great idea, Troy,” she drawled. “Too bad nobody thought of it earlier.”
He leaned in. “Do it. Say, ‘I told you so.’”
“To the boss?” she finished for him before she could censor herself.
His blue eyes flared, and she immediately regretted the rash words.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. “That was out of line.”
“I have no idea what to do with you.”
Before she could answer, he continued, “But we are upping Kassidy’s protection. Vegas is going to take point.”
“What?” Mila voiced her shock. “Wait. No. Kassidy is my detail.”
“You’re contradicting me.”
“Yes.”
“You have to be the most insubordinate person I have ever met.”
She struggled to keep her temper in check. He was marginalizing her. He was marginalizing her solely because she was a woman.
“Don’t do it,” she told him, determined not to be replaced by Vegas.
He eased closer, his gaze searching hers, his hand just barely brushing her forearm.
“Don’t do what?” His voice had dropped to a whisper.
He’d deliberately switched topics, and her attraction stirred. Oh, no. This was bad.
His blue eyes softened, and his full lips parted.
She felt a zip of reaction right down to her toes. The kiss was coming. She could taste it on her lips and feel it in her chest, hot and heavy, a demand that had to be satisfied.
Her hands twitched. She ordered herself to push him away. She could do it. She could have him flat on his back before he saw it coming. But instead she touched his arm, feeling the steel of his biceps, the heat of his skin, the brush of his T-shirt sleeve.
His lips were on hers in a second. His hand splayed at the base of her spine, jerking her forward. She arched against him, tipping her chin, parting her lips, catapulting into instant paradise.
Man, he was a good kisser. The pressure was right, the angle was perfect and he tasted fantastic. Her hands tightened on his arms, anchoring herself while the world began to spin faster.
“This is ridiculous.” Vegas’s voice was like a splash of cold water.
Mila jerked back, but Troy kept her hips plastered to him.
“You’re adults. If you want to do it, just—”
“We don’t,” Mila barked, feeling her face heat.
“—get it over with,” said Vegas.
“We don’t,” Mila repeated, breaking Troy’s hold and stepping away.
“Whatever.” Vegas shook his head in obvious exasperation and moved to the computer.
Mila didn’t dare look at Troy.
“You got ninety-eight,” said Vegas.
She immediately perked up. “On the exam?”
“I sure wasn’t grading you on the kiss.” Vegas turned the screen toward her.
She took in the score and smiled. “Is that good? It has to be good.”
“That’s four questions wrong,” said Troy.
“How do people usually do?” she asked.
“It’s good,” said Vegas.
“You’re fine on theory,” said Troy.
“And on planning,” she felt compelled to add. “And in the field, and in reporting and analysis.”
“When’s Kassidy’s next performance?” Troy asked.
His demeanor had switched to professional, remote. She told herself she was glad.
“Thursday,” she answered. “Four days.”
“I’ll need your report by tonight.”
She gave him a nod. “The mention of Drake is my biggest worry.”
As far as Mila was concerned, that took the potential threat to a whole new level. Whoever MeMyHeart was had researched Kassidy’s personal life and was trying to connect with her on a far more intimate level.
“I’m thinking three of us,” she continued, speaking to Troy. “One outside, me backstage and one in the crowd.”
“Vegas can—”
“I don’t need Vegas,” she interrupted.
Troy’s eyes flared with obvious displeasure.
“Vegas can vet the plan, but he doesn’t need to be on-site,” she said.
Troy looked to Vegas.
“The guy wants to get close to her,” said Mila. “He probably wants to date her. There’s nothing to indicate he wants to do her harm. You’ve gone from zero to sixty in a heartbeat.”
“You two work it out,” said Vegas, backing toward the door. “I’ll be in the control room, watching Prince Matin buy a new yacht.”
“You don’t get to dictate your own job,” Troy said to Mila as the door closed behind Vegas.
“I can make recommendations.” Mila didn’t want to push too far, but if she was shoved aside, she’d never be able to prove her worth. “Do other security agents make recommendations?”
Troy didn’t answer.
She struggled to come up with a convincing argument. “Try this. Close your eyes and pretend I’m a man.”
“That’s not about to happen.”
“Sit down.”
He raised his brow, looking affronted. “Excuse me?”
She gave herself a beat, slowing things down, trying to work up an appropriate level of deference without compromising her bargaining position.
She sat down on one of the meeting table chairs. “Please, Troy. Have a seat so we can talk.”
He watched her with what seemed like impatience.
“Please?” she repeated.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Don’t think of me as a woman.”
“That’s impossible.” But he sat.
“All I’m asking,” she said, measuring her words, watching the nuances of his expression for clues of what he thought, “is that you let me form a plan for Kassidy. If you don’t like it, fine. If you think I’m incompetent, then hand it all off to Vegas. But give me a chance to show you what I can do. I’m just another security agent.”
His gaze flicked to her lips. “No, you’re not.”
“Forget you ever kissed me.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“Maybe Vegas is right.”
The statement threw her. “About what?”
“We should get it over with.”
“We should...” Mila suddenly realized what he meant. “You think we should sleep together?”
“It might alleviate the tension.”
“You did not just say that.”
“Pretending you’re a man isn’t going to work.”
Her voice rose with indignation, along with the slightest touch of panic. “Well, having a fling with my boss sure isn’t going to work.”
He sat back in his chair. “You’re probably right.”
“I’m absolutely right.”
“But it would be fun.”
She went momentarily speechless, and the two of them stared at each other. Their latest kiss replayed itself inside her head.
“Is this why you don’t hire women?” she asked. “Because you can�
�t keep your hands off them?”
For some reason, Troy laughed.
“I don’t think it’s funny.”
“That’s absurd. I have enormous self-control.”
“As do I.”
Abruptly, they both went quiet, their gazes locking.
A muscle ticked in Troy’s cheek, and he drummed his fingertips against one knee.
She could almost hear the question echoing through his brain. It was the same question she was asking herself.
If that was true, then what had just happened?
Six
Mila and her sister, Zoey, rode side by side on a bike pathway along the Potomac. Sunday’s frosty morning had turned into a sunny afternoon. Mila had a ton of work to get done on Kassidy’s security plan, but clearing her head with fresh air seemed like a good idea.
“That’s bloody inconvenient,” said Zoey.
“That I’m attracted to my boss?” Mila asked as she downshifted her bike to start up a rise in the path.
“That he’s attracted to you in return. I trust you to keep yourself under control.”
“Why don’t you trust him? You don’t even know him. And he’s an extremely squared-away guy.” Sure, Troy had kissed Mila a couple of times, but it hadn’t gone any further. In fact, he was the one who’d called a halt at the gun range.
“Guys are guys,” said Zoey.
“I don’t even know what that means.”
They passed under a grove of golden aspens.
“It means,” said Zoey, “in the moment, they don’t have a lot of self-control.”
“In the moment, apparently neither do I.”
“You can’t sleep with him.” Zoey sounded worried.
“He offered. I said no. I already told you that. What I really need is a great protection plan for Kassidy. That’s what will help him see me differently.”
“How’s it coming along?”
“Slowly,” Mila admitted. “I’m beginning to think this MeMyHeart is using more than one alias to text and email.”
A cold breeze wafted up from the river, and they went into single file to go around a group of people who were out walking.
Zoey pulled alongside again. “What makes you think that?”
“A few specific words: watch, gaze, view and window.”
“That’s creepy.”
“At Troy’s, she’s on the ninth floor.”
“He could have binoculars.”
“I thought of that.” Mila was going to recommend sheers or opaque shades for Kassidy’s bedroom window. She was also going to get one of Pinion’s technical guys to encrypt the baby monitor. It was password protected, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
She was gradually meeting the other Pinion agents. It was clear they were surprised by her gender, but they were also polite and professional. A little too polite, but she supposed she couldn’t expect to be one of the guys overnight.
“Does that change your security plan?” Zoey asked.
Mila nodded. “A broad-spectrum plan is different than a plan for a specific threat.”
“Will that impress Troy?”
“Only if he agrees with my analysis. If he doesn’t, it’ll set me back.”
A flock of ducks lifted off the river, quacking as they became airborne.
“Could you do two plans?” asked Zoey. “One for each scenario?”
“That’ll show a lack of commitment and a lack of faith in my own analysis. The safe route is a broad-spectrum plan. The high-risk, high-reward approach is to go with my analysis and focus on the specific threat.”
“If not for Troy—if you weren’t second-guessing yourself based on his reaction—what would you do?”
“Specific threat,” Mila said without hesitation.
There was something off about MeMyHeart. And Mila couldn’t get the guy in the blazer out of her mind. He might have been just another fan, but there’d been something too intent in his expression. He might have been looking for an autograph for his CD, but he had also been annoyed. Had he been annoyed at Kassidy, at someone around her, at the situation?
“There’s your answer,” said Zoey. “Trust your instincts. Don’t let him get under your skin. Sure, he knows his stuff. But so do you.”
“I wish I had more concrete facts. The last thing Troy wants to hear is that it’s a woman’s intuition.”
“A woman’s intuition—anybody’s intuition—is the sum of concrete microfacts, filtered by your subconscious. Just because the conscious part of your brain hasn’t yet figured something out doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
Mila couldn’t help but smile.
“What?” asked Zoey.
“I’m trying to picture Troy keeping quiet long enough for me to explain the psychological origins of intuition.”
“I think your real problem will be keeping his primitive brain from drowning out everything else.” Zoey affected a deep, pounding voice. “Sexy woman, must have her.”
“I asked him,” said Mila.
“Asked him what?”
“If he didn’t hire women because he couldn’t keep his hands off them.”
Zoey grinned in the sunshine. “That won’t help you get a job, but I like your style.”
“It was an honest question.”
It probably wasn’t the wisest question in the world. But at the time, Mila had been serious. Kassidy had described Troy as a player. He obviously liked women, a lot of women, evidently.
A pulse of jealously pushed into her brain. She quashed it. Troy’s sex life was entirely his own business. She only wanted him to take her seriously as a security agent. This sexual attraction to him would wear off. It had to wear off.
“Did he give you an honest answer?” asked Zoey.
“He did. He told me he had enormous self-control. He seemed sincere. You know, according to my woman’s intuition.”
“Then he’s got it bad for you.”
Mila found herself looking down at her incredibly ordinary figure, clad in gray yoga pants, a worn T-shirt, scuffed runners and a unisex windbreaker. Her hair was thrown into a ponytail, and she’d left the house without makeup. Again.
“Why?” she asked her sister. “It’s not like I’m you.”
Zoey rolled her eyes. “The sum of concrete microfacts, filtered by his subconscious.”
“Telling him what?”
“That you’d give him healthy children.”
“Whoa.” Mila’s bike wobbled, and it took her a moment to recover.
“Or that you could defend the family and the village. That you could skin and cook the mastodon. Our primitive drivers are our primitive drivers. We can’t control them.”
“I’m not skinning anything. And I don’t think I’m interested in being any man’s fit and healthy specimen of a childbearing woman.”
“Fair’s fair,” said Zoey. “You’re always looking for a fit and healthy specimen of a man.”
Mila had to admit it was true. “Am I shallow?”
“Not at all. Your primitive brain is telling you he can hunt and defend your children.”
“My primitive brain is annoying.”
Mila didn’t want to want to sleep with Troy. But she did. There, she’d admitted it. She seriously wanted to sleep with Troy. At least she did at some primitive level.
Good thing her nonprimitive brain could override her instincts.
* * *
Mila was more than halfway through the Pinion obstacle course, and Troy couldn’t help but be impressed by her grit. Her strength left something to be desired, but if he was grading on determination, she’d be getting full marks. Unfortunately for her, successful completion was all about timing.
It was a circuito
us route over twenty wooded acres behind the company building. The standards allowed four hours to complete the challenging course. Most of their successful recruits did it in three.
Mila did well on the balance challenges. It was obvious she did a lot of running. And she’d done better than he expected on the mud and water obstacles. Her big challenge was strength. She was halfway up the rope-climbing wall, and her arms were shaking with the strain.
On the sidelines, he moved toward her, shouting up.
“You want to call it?”
She had a third of the course yet to go, and there was no way to make it in the time she had left.
“No,” she shouted back, reaching for the next handhold.
“You’re at three hours forty-two.”
She didn’t answer, instead took another step up.
“Are your hands numb?” he called to her.
The air temperature was barely thirty degrees. Her face was pale beneath the mud, her eyes looked too big and her expression was pinched with strain.
She kept climbing.
“Mila.”
But then she was over the top. Part of him wanted to cheer, and part of him wanted to yell at her to give it up already. There was no way for her to succeed. Not now, and really not ever.
She planted her foot on a rope. Then she gripped with her hand. She moved the next foot, took the next handhold, and the next.
But then her foot missed a step, and she lost her grip. She dangled from one hand for a terrifying second before the rough rope slipped from her fingers.
She was falling, and Troy was running, desperate to catch her and at least partially break her fall. But there was too much ground to cover. He couldn’t make it.
She hit the hay mound feet first, her legs instantly collapsing, dropping her onto her back.
“Mila,” he cried out, skidding to a halt, dropping down on his knees. “Don’t move.”
“I’m okay,” she gasped, blinking her eyes.
“You fell thirty feet.”
“Crap.”
“What hurts? Can you move your fingers and toes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I can move them.” She started to sit up.
“Stay still.” He needed to know if anything was broken.
The Baby Contract Page 8
