Killian froze, though she didn’t realize he’d stopped walking until she’d passed him by several steps. She turned to watch his fists clench at his sides. “Is there a problem?”

His head moved side to side stiffly. “So if I say yes, you’ll get it done and move on.”

“Absolutely.”

“No more bugging me.”

“None.”

“And you’ll respect the limits I put on what I share.”

“I . . .” She considered that. “What kind of limits? I’m not going be snooping through your trash or anything, Killian. But I do need access to you and your friends and teammates. But I’m not going to hide in bushes and try to trip you up.”

“If I say no, that means no.”

She shrugged. She could always try to encourage him to open up as time went on. “Sure.”

“Thirty days, and that’s it. If you don’t have everything you need, you deal with what you’ve got.”

“You know,” she said idly, walking back to him, “this is only making me more curious, not less. And a curious reporter is—”

He gripped her shoulders and pushed her two feet off the trail, until her back hit a tree. Then his mouth lowered to hers, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. His hands pressed against the tree, bracketing around her shoulders so she was surrounded by him.

Aileen made a sound . . . and she couldn’t have told God himself if it was a sound of shock or one of true, immediate relief. Her fingers plunged through his hair, so long and soft, and tugged him closer against her. One of his hands snaked down her body, pausing a moment to caress the side of her breast before reaching her thigh and pulling her leg up to hook around his hip. His erection, covered only by boxers and those thin mesh athletic shorts, pressed hard against her now-open core.

She wanted to rub up against him, all over him. Turn him around, press him to the tree, and have her own way with him.

His tongue caressed hers, and he bit lightly on her bottom lip as his hand squeezed her leg. She fought against the urge to pulse her hips into his, mostly because she would have lost her balance and she could only handle so much humiliation for one lifetime.

The sound of two women chatting about how many calories were in their blueberry breakfast muffins snapped her out of the moment. She pushed away, the bark of the tree scraping against the exposed skin of her back as she did.

They both stared at each other, breathing heavily, while the women passed. In mutual agreement, they were silent until the feminine voices evaporated.

“Are you doing this to distract me from the interview?”

His lust-glazed eyes sharpened in an instant. “Fuck that.” He spun around and stalked back to the trail. She hurried after him quickly. He was heading in the direction of their cars.

“Don’t blame me,” she said, panting a little as she fought to keep up. “You were just as skeptical of my motives when I showed up at your door.”

“That was different,” he snapped.

She sucked in a winded breath. God, she had to start taking the stairs, or walking in place while watching Orange Is the New Black, or something. Cardiovascular whatever. “How?”

“Because.” He glanced down, and some of the anger seemed to smooth out. “You’re going to pass out if you keep breathing like that.”

“So slow down,” she wheezed. She ran into him as he did just that, her nose smacking into his shoulder blade. “Uncalled for.”

“Sorry.” The last of his anger seemed to fade as he bent down and tilted her chin up toward him. “You okay?”

The way he held her face in his hand so tenderly made her blink in surprise. “Fine.” She meant it, but it still came out a little breathlessly.

His hand slipped away, but not before she would have sworn his thumb caressed the underside of her jaw. Or maybe she was delirious from lack of oxygen. “We’re treading a fine line here.”

“No line. We just have to keep it professional. I have promised to respect your boundaries, and you can promise not to toss me up against any furniture or trees to kiss me senseless.”

His lips quirked in amusement. “Senseless, huh?”

She waved that off and started walking. He fell into step without any trouble. “Why do you have to be so tall?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Lady, I’m short.”

“Not to me, you’re not.” She glanced up at him. “Is that weird, being the smallest person on the team?”

“Is this the start of our month?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I was just passing the time. Trying to forget about the fact that my legs will never forgive me for all this exercise I put them through. I am so going to regret this tomorrow morning when I try to get out of bed.”

“You should work out every day.” He analyzed her soberly. “It’s good for your heart.”

“I’ll remember that while I’m rubbing Icy Hot all over my lower extremities tonight.” When he laughed, she flipped him off. He reached for her finger but she danced out of the way. “No, smartass. It’s not the start of the month. I was making conversation. You know, what friends do.”

“Are we friends?”

“We’re friendly.” She shrugged. “Close enough. We don’t have to be adversarial to make this work. I’m friendly with a lot of the guys I interview.”

“But you’re asking them about how many marshmallows they can stuff in their mouth. That’s hardly probing and hard-hitting journalism.”

“It pays the bills,” she said, feeling defensive suddenly. Normally, she didn’t care who made fun of her job. She knew the plan, and she knew she wouldn’t be doing it forever. But when he said it . . . it felt ridiculous. Like she was the broadcast journalist version of a bimbo trophy wife who thought tanning was an Olympic sport.

“Hey.” He caught her elbow and slowed her down. “I’m not making fun. Just making that thing you talked about. Conversation?”

She searched his face for any sign of sarcasm and found none. “Fine.” She let him keep holding her elbow, curious how long he would keep the contact. “So, is it?”

“Is it what?” He looked at her strangely.

“Weird, being the smallest guy on the team? I’d struggle with it.” She glanced down ruefully, then back up. “When you’re as short as I am, it’s bad enough being around normal-sized people.”

“Those guys whose size keeps me safe,” he pointed out. He seemed to think about that for a moment, then added darkly, “Most of the time. But it’s not that weird. I’m the average-sized one . . . or maybe a little shorter than average. They’re the curve-breakers. It’s all about the perspective.”

“Hmm.” She hummed, then breathed in for a moment as they walked quietly back toward their cars. It was peaceful in the morning. Nice. Though there was no way she would have woken up this early by choice, she could appreciate the serenity now that she was experiencing it.

“How’d you choose journalism?”

The question snapped her out of the appreciative moment. “I’m the one with questions.”

He raised a brow. “So you get to ask questions, but I don’t.”

“I’m the one doing the interview,” she reminded him. The thought of being interviewed herself made her shiver. No, thank you. She preferred to present the news, not be a part of it.

“We’re conversing, not interviewing. Seems hypocritical you pull the interview card once the tables are turned.” They broke from the trail and walked across the small wooden bridge to the parking lot. Walking to the car, he paused by the driver’s side door. “New rule.”

She sighed and crossed her arms, waiting.

“You get a day for questions, then I get a day.”

She stared at him, not following.

“For questions,” he clarified. “We’ll call it the give-and-take arrangement.”

Aileen’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t do that. You already agreed to a month. You can’t just go back and slap new rules on the deal.”

He lifted one shoulder unapologetically. “I don’t see a legally binding document anywhere, do you? If you get to probe into me and my life, then I should get the chance to do the same.”