Yum.

“What’s going on,” he replied, “is your second lesson.”

Lesson one had been getting my hands dirty—aka, doing things I didn’t feel one hundred percent comfortable with simply because the boss asked me to.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to have me hire Craig back,” I said sarcastically.

“No. He’d been harassing Keri. Repeatedly. He won’t be coming back.”

Oh. And Keri, a huge credit to her, never once dropped her professional demeanor around the shmuck. Point for Keri. It was also nice to know Craig really deserved to be canned.

Had that been part of the lesson, too? That I needed to trust that Maxwell Cole had his reasons for the things he did or might ask me to do?

He continued, “Lesson two: from now on, if you want something, you’ll have to fight for it.”

Okay. “What exactly are you asking me to fight for?” And why the hell was he shirtless and sitting in the dark…

Oh. It dawned on me. He didn’t want to see my face. Fuck. This hurts.

“I’m sure by now,” he said, “Keri’s told you about Milan.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Because if you want to go, you’ll have to run.”

“Run-run?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You want me to race you?” He couldn’t be serious. The idea was almost as crazy as him accepting my proposal to sleep with me.

“Why not?” he asked.

Because you’re built like a stallion, have a personal trainer, and could probably outrun me by a few clicks per hour with those long powerful legs of yours.

“I’m not really sure it’s a fair fight,” I replied, still reeling from the fact the lights were off. The reality of our relationship was beginning to sink in, and I wasn’t sure I could deal with it.

He crossed his arms over his bare chest, and I wished to hell he’d turn the lights on because I’d give anything to see his eyes. Was he fucking with me again?

“That’s the point,” he said. “You want to run a company, then you better get used to things being unfair. The competition plays dirty every day.”

I swallowed. I understood what he was saying, I really did. But racing against him?

“So what’s it going to be, Miss Snow? You in, or are you going to run to your little red car and drive back to your shitty little apartment to whine about how unfair the world is?”

What an ass. “Fine. You wanna run? Let’s run.” I had no clue how I’d win, but what did I have to lose besides a trip to Milan?

~~~

As the final rays of daylight faded and the fireflies began making their flashy moves in the trees around the edges of his front lawn where we stretched, I did my best not to run to my car—but I wouldn’t go back to my shitty little apartment; I would drive into the lake. I also noticed Mr. Cole glancing at me from the corner of his eye, perhaps trying to read me or size me up.

“So where are we running?” I hoped it would be straight to the plane to Milan and that this was a joke.

“I frequently run at night during the summer, unlike some other people I know with a death wish.”

Lily jab. He was referring to the fact he’d caught me running in the day.

He went on, “We’ll run along the road for about two miles. Then there’s a path that cuts toward the beach and loops back here.”

“So about four or five miles?” That was it? I began feeling cocky. I could do five miles with my legs behind my back. Okay, an exaggeration, but you get the point.

“What? Can’t handle it?” he said smugly.

What I couldn’t handle were the feelings I was beginning to have with him parading around without a shirt. His body was nothing shy of a male miracle—strong, lean, fiercely muscled in all the right spots. It dawned on me that the magazine spread had not been airbrushed. Nude and natural.

I pffted. “I can handle it. Lead the way.”

“With pleasure, Miss Snow.” He headed down the driveway, exited through a small gate, and hooked right, toward the north. I trailed behind him closely, not wanting to burn up all my energy in the first few miles. Pacing was always the key. Yeah, I’d run track in high school and college.

The first mile passed quickly, and Mr. Cole kept his pace steady, making it fairly easy to keep up as we passed house after house along the road, their driveway lights illuminating our way given there were no streetlamps. Just lots of trees and big houses. What little light there was, however, allowed me a nice view of his muscular back and tight waist. Then there were those athletic legs. Not tree trunks, but hard, sleek man-legs. I could clearly imagine all of those ropes of muscles flexing and straining with force as he pumped himself between my—

“How you holding up, Miss Snow?” he called out, panting lightly.

Uhh…a little hot? “Just wondering when you’ll start running, Mr. Cole.”

“Feel free to pass me anytime.”

So damned cocky! “And miss out on the sweet view? No, thanks.” I hoped my brazen comment might make him trip or something. Seriously, how else would I win?

He laughed. “Hope you brought those binoculars, Miss Snow, because the view is about to disappear.”

“You’re all talk, Mr. Cole.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he began running hard, fading out in front of me down the dark road.

No, you don’t. I pumped my legs and arms, pushing my body as fast as it would go, my lungs burning deliciously. Still, I could barely keep him in sight. Dammit. That man is in great shape. My only hope now was that I’d outlast him and pass him up ahead. The thing was, I wasn’t really a sprinter, but a long distance kind of gal. Hanging in there was my thing.

Fuck. It suddenly hit me—what he’d said earlier. It wasn’t a fair fight. That was the entire point of this run. So if I wanted to win, I had to play dirty. Because aside from finding a shortcut and cheating, I would not be going to Milan.

Then I had an idea. A very crazy one.

I glanced up ahead, barely able to see him as he took a path that cut eastward, through a stand of trees and toward the lakeshore.

Okay. He had to be getting tired because he’d been sprinting. If I pushed hard, I could overtake him right before he got to his house and then…he was going to get a little surprise.

I picked up the pace, my body pouring with sweat, the nocturnal bugs—crickets and whatever the hell else lived out here—clicking away. In the dark, I could barely make out the trail, but I kept charging on until I saw his faint silhouette again.

Okay. Here goes.

~~~

“What took you so long, Mr. Cole?” I said, standing on the edge of the dark dock, with my arms crossed over my chest, watching him approach in a cool-down walk.

“Seems I had a little accident back there. Thank you for stopping, by the way,” he said sarcastically.

It was dark, so I couldn’t see his expression, but if I had to guess, he was looking shocked as hell that I won.

“Yeah, well. Someone told me that fights aren’t always fair.”

Now standing a few feet in front of me on the dock, I could smell his delicious scent. Expensive cologne mixed with his fresh sweat.

“Here’s your shirt back.” He held it out. “Quite the bold move, Miss Snow.”

Seriously, I wished I’d had an infrared camera to capture the look on that man’s face when I’d whipped off my tank at the exact moment I ran at his side. Now, before you get the wrong idea, I normally didn’t wear a bra when I ran because I used those special sports tanks, but tonight I’d worn a regular tank. “What the hell are you…” he’d said, looking over at me several times while running, probably either trying to get a better look at my breasts jiggling in my white lacy push-up bra or wondering if I’d lost my marbles. Then I’d thrown my tank top in his face, causing him to trip and fall. I kept running and didn’t look back, just hoping and praying no one would see me running along the beach, cupping my breasts.