Command Performance

by Sara Jane Stone

  Maggie frowned. “Are we out of something? The housekeeper comes today. I could have her pick up anything you need.”

  “Unless she’s in the habit of buying your shoes, I think this is one errand you’re going to need to run yourself.”

  “My shoes?” Even with the jolt from the coffee, he wasn’t making sense. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”

  “They’re too low.” Hunter’s fingers brushed her cheek, and this time he didn’t pull back after adjusting her fresh-out-of-bed hair. He cradled her jaw in the palm of his hand. Her pulse raced. He closed the space between them until his chest brushed up against her hands. The only thing between them was her coffee cup. He leaned forward, his lips so close to her left ear she could feel his breath.

  “Tonight’s my turn, Maggie,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “And my fantasies? They involve high heels. The highest you can find.”

  “Your fantasies?” she squeaked, her eyes widening. This was not the conversation she’d imagined having over morning coffee.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Maggie. You can trust me. I won’t hurt you. What I have in mind isn’t rough.” He drew back and met her gaze. “Just a little sweet.”

  “Sweet,” she repeated. Lust fought her hangover and won. Her nipples hardened, desperate to know what he had planned for her.

  “Just buy the shoes, Maggie.”

  She nodded. There was no way she’d refuse him, especially not after last night. She wanted to feel that way again. Out of control with passion, but without the oh-God-what-have-I-done panic.

  He stepped back and she felt the loss of his touch. “I’m going for a run before it gets too hot out there. The info you need to contact Riley is on the kitchen counter.”

  Maggie nodded again. She watched him disappear down the stairs and then made a beeline for the phone.

  “Morning,” Olivia said when she answered. “I thought you’d still be in bed.”

  “I need to go shoe shopping,” she blurted. “Today. This afternoon.”

  “I never thought I’d hear you say those words. I’ll meet you at the mall on my lunch hour. Noon by the entrance to Macy’s.”

  * * *

  MAGGIE FOUND OLIVIA standing at the door to the mall with two large cups of coffee. She thrust one at Maggie. “You’ll need this. We have to move quickly. I have to be back at the gallery in two hours. First, we’re going to Macy’s, then Nordstrom’s.”

  She took the coffee. “I only need one pair of shoes, Liv.”

  Olivia led the way past the makeup counters, through the handbags to ladies’ shoes. “What kind of shoes are we talking about here?”

  “High heels. Really high.”

  Her friend stopped in front of the sandals display. “You can barely manage two inches, Maggs.”

  A blush crept up Maggie’s cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll be doing much walking in these.”

  Olivia smiled. “I take it last night was a success?”

  “No. I mean, yes, but not entirely.” Maggie closed her eyes and refocused her thoughts. “I don’t know what I’m doing with him. He’s wrong for me. I mean, an injured Ranger? But I can’t help it, Liv, I want one more night in his bed.”

  “There’s a reason they call it crazy in love,” Olivia said in a singsong voice.

  Maggie frowned. “This isn’t love. It’s lust.”

  Olivia raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have feelings for him?”

  “I respect him. He’s a hero. The real deal. And he’s fun.” She remembered the meal they’d shared that first night in his hotel room. “He’s good company. But that’s it.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “He’s only in this for the short term, Liv. He’s been very clear.”

  “As long as you’re both on the same page. I’d hate to see you get hurt, especially so soon after Derrick.”

  “He promised he wouldn’t hurt me.” In bed. “And I trust him.”

  Olivia grabbed her hand. “Great. Let’s find you the perfect pair of heels.”

  Ten pairs of shoes later, Maggie finally put the salesman out of his misery and bought a pair of sheer black lace, peep-toe Jimmy Choo pumps with a ridiculous five-inch heel. She doubted she’d ever wear them again. She even questioned whether she could stand, never mind walk in them.

  “Maggs, there’s a man waving at us.” Olivia pointed across the shoe department. “Pink button-down. The one who looks like he could be Derrick’s twin.”

  Maggie slipped her feet back into her boring but oh-so-comfortable flats and saw her colleague Professor Dan Eglebrauch walking toward them. She’d never noticed the similarities before, but the man did look a lot like her ex.

  “Professor Barlow, good to see you,” he said with too much enthusiasm for a man she rarely saw outside of faculty meetings.

  “Hello, Dan.” She stood, grateful he hadn’t caught her trying on skyscraper heels. It was bad enough that he’d report back to all his cronies, her fellow professors, that he’d run into her shoe shopping when her book was due in a matter of months.

  “I heard about your book deal,” he said. “The whole department is talking about it. Sounds like I’ll be teaching some of your classes when school starts up again so you can take the semester off to finish it. How’s the research going? Getting close to having a first draft?”

  “The book is coming along. I interviewed the Ranger who led the team this morning.”

  “Exciting stuff.”

  Maggie nodded. Riley had basically repeated the same information she’d learned from Hunter. When she’d asked how Hunter had been shot, he’d fed her the same line Hunter had—classified. She’d pressed him for details, but he’d stonewalled her.

  “I’m taking a quick break and then it’s back to writing.”

  “If you can spare the time, I’m hosting an informal pool party tonight before Carter takes off for his summer vacation. His wife’s dragging him on a cruise this year.”

  Informal pool party translated to schmoozing their colleagues on the tenure review board. And while the other members were important, Carter led the committee. Whoever he championed for tenure would win.

  The drive to succeed that had propelled Maggie through school after her father’s life fell apart flared up. If Carter voted for her, she’d have tenure. No one could take that away from her.

  “Just a few of the guys from the political science department and their wives,” Dan continued. “Would you like to join us?”

  “Yes, I’d—”

  “She can’t,” Olivia interrupted. “Her army liaison is in town and she’s meeting him tonight.”

  “I can cancel,” Maggie said quickly, shooting her friend a be quiet look. “We were just getting together to discuss travel plans. It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Why not bring him by?” Dan suggested. “I’m sure everyone would love to meet him. Not everyone in the political science department is like us and immersed in military studies. Some of our colleagues would get a real kick out of talking to a war hero.”

  Hunter and the men who’d likely determine the future of her career in the same room? It was insane. But she couldn’t let Dan wine and dine Carter without her. She needed that job.

  “Sounds great,” she said. “What time? Can I bring anything?”

  “Six, and you don’t need to bring a thing,” Dan said. “Look forward to meeting this war hero of yours.”

  “Dan?” A tall, leggy blonde who looked as if she spent every waking minute perfecting her appearance called from the nearby makeup counter. “We’ll be late for lunch if we don’t leave soon.”

  “My wife,” he explained. “Gotta run. See you tonight.”

  “I thought your Ranger had plans for you tonight,” Olivia muttered as Dan walked away.

  “I’ll have to take a rain check.” The anticipation might drive her crazy, but she didn’t have a choice. Everything she’d worked for was within her grasp. Fantasy sex would have to wait. “Carter has the power to deci
de my future. I need to be there.”

  “I take it Dan is your competition.”

  “Yes, but he hasn’t published in years. Once I finish this book, I’ll be more qualified. But my department is an old boys’ club. If Carter throws his support behind Dan, others would likely follow his lead.”

  Maggie found her phone and dialed the number Hunter had given her.

  “Chief Cross.” His greeting sounded more like a salute.

  “Hunter, it’s Maggie. I need to take a rain check on tonight. We’re going to a pool party.”

  “You can still wear your shoes.”

  “Not a chance. It’s with my coworkers,” Maggie said, taking the bag from the sales clerk. “I need to focus on work, and I’ll need you on your best behavior.”

  “Done. But tomorrow night? You’re mine.”

  * * *

  BEER IN HAND, Hunter followed Maggie away from the folding table set up as a bar and around the pool. Their host, who’d greeted him with a used-car-salesman smile when they first arrived, owned a simple one-story colonial on a street just outside of town. The pool and the cement deck encompassed most of the backyard. Tiki torches stood in a line where the pool deck stopped and grass began.

  Everything about the backyard screamed pool party—except Maggie. Tonight, she’d dressed the part of the responsible professor in her black slacks and white button-down shirt. He’d taken one look at her when she’d come down the stairs earlier and thought he’d mistaken “pool party” for “wake.” But no, he’d arrived to find her fellow professors in shorts and T-shirts and their wives in sundresses. Some even wore bathing suits. And they all looked ready to party, everyone but Maggie.

  The woman who’d turned down a wild night in bed to be here looked about as serious as a soldier locked and loaded for battle. He couldn’t help himself. He leaned toward her, close enough to smell her sweet, soapy-clean scent, and dropped his voice. “I suppose now is not the time to tell you sex in an empty bedroom at your coworker’s party is at the top of my fantasy list.”

  Without touching her, he felt the tension in her skyrocket from a one to an off-the-charts fifteen. She stepped away from him. “No, I can’t. Not here.”

  “Relax.” He reached out to stop her from backing into a lit torch. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  She eyed him suspiciously then turned her attention to the older gentleman walking toward them. “That’s Professor Carter,” she hissed. “Whoever he recommends for tenure will likely get it.”

  The old man bore a stronger resemblance to Santa Claus than any professor Hunter had ever seen. Then again, he’d joined the army at eighteen so he didn’t know much about academics. But he’d pictured an old man in a tweed jacket with a hat, not a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound man in a Hawaiian shirt with a white beard.

  “Margaret, what a surprise. I thought you would be too busy writing to attend,” the older man said, grinning from ear to ear. “But I see you brought your book with you.” The jolly professor turned to him and extended his free hand, the one not cradling what looked like three fingers of scotch. No wonder the man’s nose was Rudolph-red.

  “Gerry, this is Chief Hunter Cross with the U.S. Army Rangers,” Maggie said. “Hunter, this is Professor Gerald Carter.”

  “Call me Gerry,” he said, shaking Hunter’s hand. “Must have done something amazing over there if Margaret wants to write about you. She’s one smart cookie.”

  “She is,” Hunter replied. He watched as Carter wrapped his arm around Maggie’s waist, attempting to draw her closer. Maggie sidestepped, moving dangerously close to a tiki torch.

  “Chief Cross is one of the soldiers who rode through Afghanistan.”

  “Ah, one of the cowboys,” Carter said. He took a swig from his glass and closed in on Maggie. With her only escape blocked by a flaming torch, the drunk Santa impersonator caught Maggie around the waist.

  Hunter waited for her to slap his hand away. Instead, she smiled and said, “They’re not crazy about that moniker. Yes, they rode horses, but they are still soldiers. The interviews I’ve conducted so far have been fascinating. All the readers who raced out to buy the SEAL book will be lining up to learn about the Ranger’s heroic mission.”

  Maggie rested her hand on his arm and tried to guide it away. Gerry didn’t take the hint. Or maybe he thought she wanted his hand on her ass. Hunter watched Gerry’s hand drift down to her lower back and dip below the waistline of her black pants.

  Hunter studied Maggie, waiting for her to ask for his help. But she remained frozen in place, her body stiff as a board except for the hand holding a wineglass filled with seltzer. The fingers on that hand tapped the glass stem as if she was sending out a message in Morse code.

  “Cowboys, soldiers—the man’s a hero,” Gerry said, raising his glass in Hunter’s direction. “And your book sounds like a bestseller, Margaret. The college loves having bestselling authors in the classrooms,” he added, giving her bottom a pat.

  “Let’s move away from the torches,” Maggie suggested, stepping out of Gerry’s reach. “I’m getting a little warm.” She led them closer to the pool edge and positioned herself on the far side of Hunter.

  “Better?” Hunter asked.

  “Much.” Maggie turned back to Gerry, who’d followed her like a dog chasing a bone. “I understand you’re leaving on a cruise soon.”

  “Next week. After the tenure review board meeting,” Gerry said. “I would love to see someone from the military studies area awarded tenure, which leaves you and Dan as the primary contenders for the job. But if you’re writing a bestseller, the college would have a hard time turning you down. I can make that clear to them.” Gerry inched closer to Maggie, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he might force Hunter into the pool. “Why don’t you join me for a drink at the bar and tell me more about the book that is going to make you the youngest tenured professor in the political science department?”

  One step away from doing a back flop into the water, Hunter decided he’d had enough. This man was drunk and determined to get his hands on Maggie. In his book that meant party time was over. Maybe she didn’t want his help, but she was damn sure going to get it.

  “Maggie, we need to be going,” Hunter interrupted. “Remember you have that Skype date with Riley? I would hate for you to miss an interview. And this is the only time he can talk.”

  “A Skype session? Tonight?”

  Hunter saw the confusion in her expression but plunged ahead, taking her by the arm and backing her away from Gerry’s reach. “Yeah. You wanted to do a follow-up, right?”

  He saw the precise moment her confusion gave way to a less flattering emotion. “Of course.” She made a show of glancing at her watch and then up at Gerry with an apologetic expression. “I was so caught up in our little chat, I almost forgot to keep track of the time.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” Hunter said.

  “Lucky me,” she muttered, pulling her arm free and stepping forward to kiss Gerry’s cheek. To the jolly, groping professor, she said, “Thank you for your support, Gerry. It means so much to me.”

  Hunter reached out to reclaim her arm, but she sidestepped him. Pivoting on her heel, she headed for the path that ran alongside the house to the driveway. He followed.

  * * *

  MAGGIE MARCHED TO her car feeling as if her world was shifting beneath her feet. It was as if the gravel had turned to quicksand. She knew this feeling, remembered it from her childhood. Her control had slipped away at the worst possible moment.

  “You could thank me now,” Hunter said once they were both in the car. “That guy is a jerk.”

  Eyes narrowed, she turned to him, her hands gripping the steering wheel. “That jerk could make or break my career.”

  “He was all hands.”

  “I had the situation under control,” Maggie ground out as she pulled onto the main road.

  “I kept waiting for you to tell him to back off. When you didn’t I thought I’d le
nd a hand. You can’t expect me to stand by and do nothing.”

  “You should have let me handle him. I need Carter’s support if I’m going to get tenure.” The muscles in her shoulders tensed and she took the bend in the road a little too fast. Across from her, Hunter held on to the door. “If you hadn’t made up some stupid excuse about an interview, which by the way made me look like a careless idiot for standing around drinking when I supposedly had work to do, I would have removed his wandering hands and kept the conversation focused on my book.”

  “You don’t have to worry, Maggie. Good old Gerry is fascinated by your book. You already have his support.”

  “You can’t know that for sure.”

  “I’ve worked with guys like him before. Unless he’s trying to grab Dan’s ass now, you have his vote. Trust me, Maggie.”

  She snorted. Trust him? The man had just railroaded her into walking away from an important conversation.

  “You did last night,” Hunter added.

  She doubted she’d ever forget how it felt to stand at his mercy with her pants around her ankles. But she’d been acting out a fantasy. Tonight he’d messed with her reality.

  “That’s different. This is work. My future. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  “Then tell me,” he said quietly.

  Maggie turned down her long private drive and accelerated. When they reached the parking area in front of the house, she came to an abrupt stop and turned to face him.

  “When I was younger, I worked so hard to keep our life moving forward. But at any moment it was like my father could pull the rug out from under me. Everyone at school thought I had my life together until he showed up drunk to meet with my teachers. All the bills were paid, until he decided to help but then forgot where he’d put the mail, and the electric company turned off our power. I can’t live like that again.”

  “I’m not asking you to.” Hunter reached out and took her hand. “Have a little faith in me. Not a lot, just a little.”

  Their interlaced fingers rested on the console between the seats. Maggie’s gaze locked on their joined hands. She forced herself to relax for the first time since she’d set foot in Dan’s backyard.