The Baby Contract

“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.”