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“I meant for everyone else,” she told him. “It’s hard to be one of the guys when you have to lock them out of their own showers.”
“I doubt anyone had a shower emergency in the past fifteen minutes.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” he said.
He pressed the button to call the elevator.
“You did good out there,” he told her.
“I failed miserably.” She hadn’t expected to magically pass, but she had hoped to improve her result more than she’d managed.
“You’ve got grit, Mila. They’ll be impressed by that.”
“Troy?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Troy doesn’t want to be impressed. He’s looking for reasons not to be impressed. But you already know that.”
“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted. “It’s...” She wanted to say complicated. She wanted to say impossible. But she didn’t want to admit the depths of her discouragement to Troy’s partner, of all people. “I really don’t know what to do.”
“If you sleep with him, you’ll never be one of the guys.”
Mila gaped at Vegas’s blunt words.
The elevator door slid open, but she didn’t move.
He touched her arm and guided her inside, coming with her. “If you don’t sleep with him, both of you will go stark raving mad.”
She felt her face heat with embarrassment. “What did he tell you?”
“Nothing. I have eyes. And I’m paid to be observant. And I saw the expression on your face that day at the shooting range. You turned away from Troy, but you were looking at the camera.”
She could only imagine what she had revealed to a man like Vegas. “Are people gossiping?”
The elevator rose.
“Maybe,” said Vegas. “Though not to me. They’re more interested in seeing if you wimp out. And they want to see if Troy cracks on his no-women rule.”
“I guess they all know about that?”
“They all know about that.”
The number panel flashed past floor five.
“What about a different job?” Vegas asked. “Somewhere other than Pinion.”
“Settle for second best?” She shook her head. “That’s not in my makeup.” And it wasn’t in her family’s makeup. A job at Pinion might be challenging. But it was what she wanted, and it’s what she’d go after.
“You’ll really try again?” Vegas asked.
She assumed he meant the obstacle course. “In a couple of days.”
“Stay lower in the mud crawl. Use your core strength and save your arms. And don’t do the whole course again for practice. Work on the technical parts, the low walls, the logs and the ropes. Don’t waste your energy with bad technique.”
The elevator came to a halt on nine.
She didn’t know what to say. She was exhausted, sore and stupidly close to tears.
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
“I’m just treating you like one of the guys.”
“That’s all I want.”
“I know.”
The door slid open.
“Don’t sleep with him, Mila.”
“I won’t.” She stepped into the hallway, vowing to take that advice.
Vegas gave a sharp nod as the door slid shut.
Her stomach danced with nerves as she made her way to Troy’s front door. She knocked once, and he answered almost immediately.
When he didn’t say anything, her heart began to thud deeply in her chest. His stance was tense, his gaze penetrating, and his knuckles were white where he gripped the door. Her first thought was that she was about to be fired.
“Uh...” she started haltingly. “You wanted to talk about Kassidy?”
He blinked, as if her words weren’t making sense. Then his hand shifted on the door. “Kassidy, right.”
“Should I come back later?” She’d like to come back later. She’d rather come back later. Whatever Troy was thinking, she didn’t want him to say it out loud.
But he stepped back. “No. Come in.”
“Is Kassidy up?”
Company would be a good idea. Would he fire her in front of his sister? Hopefully, Kassidy would take Mila’s side.
“You have your laptop?” he asked.
“I do.” She wondered where this was leading.
Was he going to suggest she update her résumé? Maybe he’d offer her a letter of reference. Should she take it? Should she beg him to reconsider? Should she slam out of here in righteous anger?
She pictured herself marching out the door. Then she pictured herself begging him to keep her. Then, unfortunately, the image turned to him kissing her, holding her, reassuring her that—
That what? That they’d be good in bed together.
“Let’s do it in my office,” he said.
Her stomach contracted. “Excuse me?”
He looked annoyed as he shut the door. “Bring your laptop to my office. I want to run through your analysis.”
“On Kassidy?” she confirmed, still feeling as though she was changing gears.
“Of course on Kassidy. What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you hit your head out there?”
“I did not hit my head.” She started for the office. “I bruised just about everything else,” she muttered as she walked.
She wanted to blame him for that. She did blame him for that. The obstacle course was impossible. It was going to kill someone. Probably her.
She entered the room and plunked her duffel bag down on the floor.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly close and unexpectedly even.
She turned.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, scanning her face.
“I’m fine.”
“Any falls this time?”
She shook her head. “Just the usual scrapes and bruises.”
“You made it farther.”
The statement took her by surprise. “You saw me?”
“Only on the monitor.”
Had he watched her struggle? Had he judged her performance? Or had he merely happened to glance at the security monitor as the buzzer went off? There was no way to guess, and she wasn’t going to ask.
“Did you laugh?” she asked instead, hoping to lighten the mood.
She was feeling better now that it looked as though she wouldn’t be fired today.
“Only the first time, when you...face-planted in the mud.” Then he sobered. “I didn’t laugh. I was pulling for you.”
“No, you weren’t. You’re going to hate it when I succeed.”
“I think you mean if you succeed.”
“I think I mean when.”
Instead of answering, he touched her collarbone, brushing gently across her skin. “You have a gash.”
“It’s nothing.”
He pulled on the neck of her T-shirt. “It’s minor.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
“I needed to see for myself.”
“Because you don’t trust me?”
“Because I worry about you.”
“I’m not made of glass, Troy.”
His fingers feathered across her neck. “I wish you were. It would be so much easier if you were delicate, feminine, and I could protect you and you wouldn’t challenge and protest every little thing I do.”
“Is that what you like?” she dared to ask. “You like helpless women?”
“I thought I did.” He was coming closer. “I thought I knew exactly the type of woman I liked. And then you came along. And now I have to question myself. I don’t like questioning myself.”
She told herself to back away, but she didn’t move. “Are you looking for sympathy?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I’m looking for an answer. Yes or no.”
“To what?”
He took a step. Then he took her hand. He lined up their lips, canting his head to one side. “Yes or no?”
“No,” she managed to whisper, clinging to good sense.
“You sure?”
“No.” She wasn’t sure at all.
He brushed his lips lightly against hers, starting a trail of desire that warmed her brain.
He paused.
She waited, thinking of his kiss, desperate for his kiss.
“Yes or no?” he repeated.
She groaned in surrender. Her hands went to his waist, and she crossed the miniscule space between them, pressing her lips to his in a hungry kiss.
Troy immediately wrapped her in his arms, pulling her tight, holding her flush against him.
It felt good. It felt so, so good. She gave in to the sensations, running her hands along his arms, up to his shoulders, feeling the strength and mass of his muscles. He shouldn’t feel so overwhelmingly sexy. Sure, he was fit, and he was buff, but he was just a man. Why couldn’t she resist him?
She reached for his buttons, kissing him deeply while her fingers worked his shirt. She separated the fabric, touching his skin, feeling its heat, the play of his muscles, the ridge of a scar, then another and another.
