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 clothes. 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.