McDonald_SS_GEN_Nov2014 by Donna McDonald Page B

out of my dating life. Not that Nicolas and I are dating—damn it—you know what I mean.”
    “Yes, I do. Which is its own kind of miracle, since you’re so shaken up over this. You know I used to try and fix Nicolas up with women occasionally. My matchmaking never worked any better than his mother’s. Since his father died, I haven’t talked him into more than going to dinner now and then. He’s always had a thing for you though. He never talked about it, but I knew. I didn’t tell you because. . .well because you joined the Marines. . .and I figured leaving us meant you didn’t like him back the same way he liked you. Then while you were gone, it was a moot point. I guess it’s not so moot any more.”
    “No. It’s not moot. So what can I do about my concerns?” Megan asked.
    David shrugged. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. He didn’t for one minute think Megan would let herself be too distracted by anything to do her job. His sister was far too serious to shirk her duty simply because her hormones were bothering her.
    “Like you said—his life is at stake—but among my team you’re the best shot and have the sharpest eye. I guess my advice for you is to settle things as best you can for now and try to get your mind back in the game where it belongs. It would take too long to recruit a new female guard and run all the checks on her. You’re going to have to be on the float with him.”
    Megan sat quietly for a few moments, then finally nodded. Okay. If it had to be her, it would be her. But she couldn’t do it while she was so distracted. Even a stalker with poor aim would catch her off-guard if Nicolas decided to flirt with her.
    That meant she had exactly two days to level things out between them.
    There was only one action she could reasonably take to make sure the tension between them got resolved.
    ***
    Her text message had been cryptic and he’d stood at his window too long thinking about what it meant to have time to change clothes. When the doorbell rang, he was still in the sweats he’d worked out in. Chest bare of the sweaty shirt he’d discarded already, he walked to the door to let Megan inside.
    He opened it and found her dressed as casually as he was. Her bottom curves were encased in loose sweats. The blue lace of her bra was visible under the fitted white top she’d donned over them, but he restrained himself from commenting on what he could see. His gaze had a hard time reaching her face, but when it finally did, he noticed hers hadn’t managed to get as far as his eyes either. It made the last hour in his building’s gym worth the effort he put in. He grinned at catching her staring at his chest.
    “See anything you like?” he asked, trying to sound snarky and uncaring. Frustration helped his cause. He was tired of cold showers and dreams of her. He wanted to do something about the awareness dancing between them every time they were together.
    Snark left when she lifted her head. Megan’s dazed expression was full of lust for him, and it took his breath away. She cleared her throat just as he opened his mouth to apologize.
    “Yes. I like what I see, and I see a man I’ve always liked. You have some nice pecs—for a geek.”
    Sighing over her backhanded compliments, Nicolas sighed, stepped back, and motioned her in. “I see we’re still trading insults. So why are you here? Did you come to torture me again?”
    Matching his frustrated sigh, Megan shook her head. Her stomach fluttered in nervous concern, but her decision was made. She wasn’t backing down.
    “I guess it depends on whether or not you consider sleeping with me to be torture. I think having sex is the only way we’re going to be able to deal with our hormonal reaction to each other.”
    His heart sped up at her words, but he was tired of being tormented. “What about all the ‘Dr. North’ lectures about not being sure and needing time to think about it?”
    Megan dropped her head and