Her Perfect Stranger

Mike watched as good humor warred with wariness on Corrine's face. He still couldn't get used to knowing her real name, but it suited her. Just as the team suited her. Evidently, they'd gelled as a group during their time together. Their camaraderie bode well for the mission.

It didn't bode well for him. For one, he hated being the outsider. He didn't mind the work entailed to catch up; in fact he would thrive on the challenge of it. But damn it, he wanted her to like him, not look at him as if he were some sort of deviant.

He didn't understand how she could go from soft, laughing and full of heat to hard as nails, unsmiling and totally controlled.

Oh, and then there was the kicker-she was his commander. He'd seen her naked, sprawled out beneath him and whimpering for more, and she was his damn boss.

'Let's go,' he said as lightly as he could. 'Let's see who keeps up with who. And just so you know,' he added to Frank and Jimmy, 'I plan on outrunning both of you.'

His friends simply exchanged knowing smiles.

Which only doubled Mike's determination.

They started off at a quick pace. Not that Mike couldn't easily maintain it, but 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 yell 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 all; 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 all 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 all.

That alone was going to kill him, if not the pace. And then suddenly, mercifully, 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 all she was worth. And she'd hardly broken a sweat.

'Tired?' he asked as casually 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 all he could think, kicking into as high a gear as she had.

She was going to kill 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 blue eyes stared right at him.

That he could remember when they were cloudy and opaque with lust really ticked him off.

'You can't order me to do anything,' he said. Or rather, gasped. 'We're not working at the moment.'

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't break stride. 'I should have known. You're going to be a male chauvinist pig about this.'

'What?'

'You can't work for a woman, right?'

'Ha!' he gasped, but then had to go quiet to concentrate on getting oxygen to his poor body. 'I can work for a woman. And-' And he was fresh out of air. 'I'm…not…a…pig.'

'Male chauvinist pig.'

Okay, now she was trying to rile him, but before he could accuse her of that, she slowed, then finally stopped. Ignoring him, she went about a series of stretches to cool down, while Mike just concentrated on staying conscious.

He found himself watching her as she spread her legs, then bent over, her palms flat on the ground.

For just a moment, her shorts tightened across her tight, curvy butt and his hands actually itched to touch.

How was it that he hadn't noticed what incredible shape she was in? He couldn't believe it, but she was actually in better shape than he was, and he was pretty damn fit.

'Look,' she said, suddenly straightening and looking him right in the eye, somehow managing to stare down her nose at him at the same time, even though she was nearly a foot shorter than he. 'I can see you're going to have problems working under me, but get over it. You're our third and last choice. There is no one else. I won't compromise the mission.'

He didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, so he brilliantly stood there like an idiot.

'Your reputation precedes you,' she continued, blowing a strand of hair out of her face that dared defy its confines. 'Both in and out of the space shuttle. I'm well aware of your profile, but I didn't expect to have problems so soon.'

He blinked and straightened, breathing trouble and screaming muscles forgotten. 'Excuse me? Problems?'

She just looked at him.

'Are you referring to the fact that we've been naked together?' he asked bluntly.