he remembered Jimmy and Frank as not being the most disciplined of men. Curiously enough, they were disciplined now. Corrine stayed with them, silent and determined, and he wondered how long she could hold her own. Wondered, too, how she would give in. Would she gracefully drop back, or kill herself trying to keep up? He told himself he didn't care. Either way, it would give him great pleasure to see her sweat. At the twenty-minute mark no one had even slowed, but Mike was starting to sweat. Jimmy and Frank, too, especially since they'd kept up a steady stream of banter all along about the exploits they'd shared with Mike in Russia. "You should have seen the crowd after we landed in '97," Frank said to Corrine, who might or might not have been listening, as she never slowed her pace or glanced over. "The Russian women couldn't get enough of Mike. He's a huge celebrity. They yel and cry for him as if he were Mel Gibson." Jimmy snorted. "Yeah, tough job we had, fighting them off for him. And then there was that one who sneaked into his shower in the hotel room. Remember, Frank? Remember how he screamed like a pansy?" "She scared the hell out of me," Mike said in his own defense, sending a sheepish glance at Corrine. She didn't so much as crack a smile. "Oh, you poor baby," Jimmy said, now gasping for air. "Hey, can you still get a different woman every night if you want?" "Uh..." Another glance at Corrine assured him she was listening, after al; her face had definitely gone a shade redder. What he didn't know was whether she was exhibiting embarrassment or anger. "I never had a different woman every night." "Right. You took Sundays off." Definitely anger, Mike decided, as Corrine's face darkened even more. Frank and Jimmy took great delight in his growing discomfort, but they had no way of knowing they were innocently revealing parts of him he absolutely, positively didn't want exposed in front of this woman. Apparently he hadn't yet made the switch from Corrine's lover to her teammate. He was going to have to do that sooner or later. At the forty-minute mark, he started huffing, but refused to show it, distracting himself by watching the commander's tush swing gently to and fro with each stride. The clothes she wore were a crime, he decided. She had an incredible body, lush and curvy in al the good spots, tough as nails in others. He knew this, as he'd personally kissed and sucked and stroked every single inch of her. But both yesterday in her stern suit, and now in the loose jogging clothes, she hid it al. That alone was going to kill him, if not the pace. And then suddenly, mercifuly, both Frank and Jimmy slowed to a walk, waving them on Mike glanced at Corrine, more than ready to let her concede defeat, because there was no mistake to be made here, this was some sort of pissing contest, and he intended to win. She never even glanced at him, just stared straight ahead, her legs and arms pumping for al she was worth. And she'd hardly broken a sweat. "Tired?" he asked as casualy as he could while sucking serious wind. "Because we could slow down." "Feel free," she said, and actually picked up speed, starting to leave him in her dust. Holy shit, was al he could think, kicking into as high a gear as she had. She was going to kil him. "Please don't continue for my sake." She actually had the nerve(to toss that over her shoulder in an even, controlled voice that only fueled his frustration. He could hardly breathe, much less answer. "I'm fine," he said through his teeth. "Suit yourself." They went another mile in silence while he stewed over the fact that at the hotel he'd suggested she rest while climbing a damn flight of stairs. After a while, she shot him a glance. "Oh for God's sake, Mike. Stop, would you?" "No." "You're just being stubborn." True, but damned if he was going to admit it. "What if I ordered you to stop?" "You can't do that." "Why not?" She shoved up her glasses to rest on top of her head, and her clear, midnight
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