Melissa McClone

Win, Lose...Or Wed!


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In a way it did. If he lost, his family would pay the price. Success at all cost. That was his motto. “Trained hard.”

      “So did I.” She met his gaze dead-on. “This pack is lighter than the one I wore when I trained.”

      “You wore a backpack when you trained?” he asked.

      “Of course, didn’t you?”

      “Yes, but…” He hadn’t assumed she would take this so seriously. “You said you weren’t very organized.”

      “Let’s get something straight, Jace,” she said. “I didn’t enter this race expecting to be teamed with someone, but I didn’t enter to lose, either. I plan to give a hundred and ten percent. I expect the same from my teammate. That’s you.”

      Seeing her determination stirred something inside Jace. He’d never thought of Millie Kincaid as competitive. Her words, full of strength and fire, surprised him. Intrigued him. Turned him on.

      Maybe he’d missed that part of her during The Groom. Maybe he’d better just forget about that part of her altogether. He was here save to his company—and his family—from financial ruin. Period.

      Jace might still be drawn to Millie, but he wasn’t about to put his foot in that trap again. She expected a white picket fence future with two point three children, a dog, a cat and a minivan parked in the driveway. He wasn’t the guy to give her all that. He would only end up disappointing and hurting her.

      Again.

      Millie pursed her pink lips, accentuating their fullness. “So what do you say?”

      He’d forgotten the question, but he remembered the first time he’d kissed her. A soft, gentle kiss full of promise during a moonlit walk along the beach. He’d thought the darkness would give them a rare moment of privacy, but watching the show when it aired he realized the cameras had caught everything.

      The way they were doing now.

      “Jace?” her voice rose. “You can’t rely only on your charm this time. Are you willing to give one hundred and ten percent?”

      “Yes.” He might have deserved her jab, but he sure didn’t appreciate it. “As long as you’re not going to be all distracted.”

      “Distracted?” Her forehead creased. “By what?”

      Her clear green gaze made him shift uncomfortably. He was the one distracted. “By…you know. What happened before. We need to focus on the race to win.”

      “I’m focused.” She tugged her backpack straps. “You’re the one who keeps bringing up the past.”

      He cleared his throat. She was right. Damn it. “Let’s come up with a strategy then.”

      “What was your strategy before?” she asked.

      “Every man for himself,” he admitted.

      “We’ll have to amend that or we won’t get far.” She bit her lower lip. “I have a game plan we can use.”

      “You?”

      “Yes, me.” Millie drew her brows together, and he could imagine her looking like that when she stood in front of the chalkboard to teach her students. “Too much is at stake to shoot from the hip.”

      The elevator stopped.

      “So what’s your plan?” Jace asked.

      The doors opened, and the camera crews poured out.

      “Run, don’t walk,” she explained. “And whatever we do, never look back.”

      Jace could handle that. “Works for me.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      REMEMBER the game plan. All she had to do was run.

      Easier said than done, Millie realized two blocks from the bus stop at the intersection of Chestnut and Fillmore Streets. Her feet pounded against the hard pavement as she tried to keep up with Jace, who ran twenty feet ahead of her.

      He looked back at her. “Come on.”

      “Right behind you.” Thank goodness the trendy Marina District was pancake flat with rows of well-kept houses, garages on the first floor, and utility cables strung from the wide, treeless streets to the rooflines. “Don’t worry about me.”

      She could do the worrying for both of them.

      Running on the track back at school was much easier than a cement sidewalk in the city, especially with garbage cans in the way, cars pulling out of driveways, a camera crew capturing every jarring step and her teammate, Jace Westfall, telling her to pick up the pace.

      You can always stop if you think the race will be too much for you.

      Millie inhaled sharply, the salty air filling her thirsty lungs. No doubt Jace’s words had provided a perfect sound bite for the show. Had he said them for her or for the cameras or both? Not that it mattered. She couldn’t stop. Not even if she wanted to. Her kids needed her to race. To win.

      She pushed herself forward, focusing on Jace’s back. She’d had an uninterrupted view of his butt since they both leaped off the bus, and he’d been increasing his lead with his long, powerful stride and fluid motion. Of course, any living, breathing female could appreciate how well his warm-up pants fit in all the right places.

      “Be careful,” he called over his shoulder. “Obstacle ahead.”

      What was she doing? Cute butt or not, he was simply her teammate for the duration of the race. Thinking about him in any other way would only complicate matters.

      Millie focused on a thirty-something blond woman pushing a high-tech stroller toward them. “I see them.”

      As he maneuvered between the pair on the sidewalk and a garbage can at the curb, the woman with the baby smiled at him and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. Unbelievable. Even moms weren’t immune to Jace Westfall’s charms.

      Millie lengthened her stride to pass the stroller and finally—finally!—caught up with him. Running next to Jace, or better yet ahead of him, would be preferable to staying behind him. The cameraman and audio guy ran alongside them. She didn’t know how they kept up with all that gear.

      “You’re doing great, Freckles,” he said, sounding not the least bit winded.

      “Thanks.” She snuck a peek at him. He looked totally unaffected by the running or the race or the camera focused on them. “Do you think it’s much further?”

      “The bus driver said if we stayed on Fillmore Street we couldn’t miss the Marina Green.” He glanced her way. “Why don’t we stop for water?”

      She pressed her lips together. Even though she’d love a sip of water, she did not need him to make allowances for her. No way would she be the weak link on their team. She was tough enough, smart enough and determined enough to handle anything Cash Around the Globe threw at her. Including Jace.

      “I’m fine.” And Millie was. She just needed to remain focused. So what if her entire world had done a one-eighty and she felt as if she’d stepped into opposite town where no meant yes and full meant empty? She could—and would—do this. “We can get a drink once we find the clue.”

      “If you’re sure.”

      “I am.” A sound caught her attention. “I hear a foghorn.”

      “We must be close. Give me your pack.”

      She ran faster. “I’ve got it.”

      “I don’t mind.”

      “I do.”

      As the sounds of traffic grew louder, Millie accelerated. But doing so wasn’t easy. She felt heavier, not from the forty pound weight strapped to her back, but from Jace’s obvious lack of confidence in her abilities. She