At His Service: Her Boss the Hero: One Night With Her Boss / Her Very Special Boss / The Surgeon's Marriage Proposal. Alison Roberts

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      Tama twisted the shower control and turned to eye his face in the bathroom mirror while the water heated up. Just as well he lived alone at the moment, the way he was talking aloud to himself like this.

      Rehearsing.

      He picked up a razor but then took a second glance in the mirror. A day’s worth of stubble might not be a bad look for today. Rugged.

      A man who cared about things more important than appearances.

      A man who meant business.

      Tama abandoned the razor, using the mirror to try and perfect a sympathetic smile that was less of a smirk.

      ‘You can always try again some time. When you feel ready.’

      The smile was quite genuine as he stepped into the shower. It was well worth giving up half of one of his precious free days to rid himself of the irritating burden Princess Mikayla represented.

      There was no smile on his face an hour later, however.

      The vast sports stadium on the outskirts of the city had more than a few fitness freaks intent on an early workout but the areas Tama needed were deserted. Maybe that was why the appearance of Mikayla Elliot seemed dramatic.

      He was sitting on one of the lower tiers of steep seating at one end of an Olympic-sized diving pool. Directly opposite the double doors that led to the women’s changing area. Had she really needed to push both doors to announce her entrance?

      And how could someone as tiny as this little princess appear to have such shapely legs? He’d noticed it yesterday in those tight jeans she’d been wearing. You’d think that Lycra bike shorts would have cut them off and made them look stumpy but, no … she may be small but she was perfectly proportioned.

      At least the baggy T-shirt she had on right now was covering those intriguingly compact breasts that yesterday’s top had accentuated. Sad, really. If he’d met this woman under any other circumstances he would have found her more than passably attractive, but anything other than a very brief professional encounter was definitely not on the cards. Tama doubted that Mikki would want to speak to him again after this morning.

      His nod of approval was in recognition of the sensible trainers she had on her feet and the way she had scraped back that silly cloud of blonde curls that begged for a tiara rather than a flying helmet. Her hair was tight in a band high on the back of her head and the length had been tightly plaited.

      Mikki’s face looked just as pinched as she walked towards Tama with no hint of hesitation in her step. She dropped a bag on a seat below him, extracted a water bottle and towel and then smiled up at him, albeit a trifle grimly.

      ‘OK. What’s first?’

      ‘See that staircase on the other side of these seats?’ The almost vertical one. Big steps. Twenty of them. ‘Yep.’

      ‘You run up, along the front of the top row of seats and down the steps on the other side. Along the front by the pool and then up again.’

      ‘Cool.’ She was warming up. Bouncing slowly onto her toes and down again to wake up her Achilles tendons. Stretching her shoulders at the same time and taking deep breaths to pre-oxygenate herself. Looking disconcertingly ready to fire herself into the task like a bullet from a gun.

      The enthusiasm might be commendable but it was irritating. Did she really think she could do this? Most guys, including Tama, found it a challenging workout. She’d last five circuits, tops.

      ‘The goal is ten circuits in under ten minutes,’ he told her.

      She eyed a chunky sports watch she was wearing and pushed a button, presumably putting it into stopwatch mode. Then she eyed the grandstand, her gaze travelling as though memorising the route and assessing the timeframes needed.

      She wasn’t stupid, then. Anyone else might have earned a mental tick for being able to look at the big picture before tackling the first stage. In this case, Tama wasn’t prepared to concede any points.

      ‘Plus …’ He eased himself to his feet. ‘You’re not doing it by yourself.’

      ‘What?’ The plait on the back of Mikki’s head swung as she looked over her shoulder. ‘Someone else is coming?’

      ‘No.’

      Dammit! The way she stayed silent in the face of confusion, a tiny frown puckering her forehead as she waited for clarification, was also commendable. She wasn’t about to jump to erroneous conclusions. And that look would extract the necessary information from anyone. There was an air of authority about this pint-sized princess. She was used to ruling her subjects. Tama hid a grin. He wasn’t one of them.

      ‘I’m doing it with you.’ He stripped off the hooded jacket he was wearing. He knew the black singlet top did nothing to conceal the kind of physical condition he kept himself in but intimidation was a legitimate tool, wasn’t it? He owed it to any candidate to make sure they gave their best performance.

      The flicker he saw in Mikki’s eyes as they widened was certainly gratifying.

      ‘I thought you were doing the assessment.’

      ‘Correct.’ Tama deliberately flexed his upper body muscles in a slow stretch. ‘It’s quite possible to do both.’

      ‘Right.’

      She looked disconcerted. Used to being the focus of attention rather than a team member? A mental cross this time instead of a tick. Good. Tama held her gaze.

      ‘Normally we don’t run an assessment unless we’ve got at least four people ready to try out for the team.’

      ‘So why am I doing it by myself?’

      Tama’s smile was one-sided. ‘I guess you’re special.’ He twisted his body, elbows raised, partly to stretch but more to avoid eye contact. It would be unprofessional to mention her father and strings being pulled and, besides, if he got started, he might go too far. Might tell her what it was like to be one of twelve children—included but never really belonging. Fighting for any of the good things life had to offer. Struggling to get the kind of chances people like her had handed to them on silver platters.

      A careful breath and he was under control. ‘It helps to have someone else sharing the suffering,’ he said more lightly. ‘And it can make a difference, having a bit of competition. We’re often pushed to or even beyond physical limits in this job.’

      A single nod. ‘You’ve done this before, of course.’

      ‘Many times.’ Tama conceded the advantage. ‘But this is an initial evaluation, not a race. I don’t expect you to have the kind of fitness level we maintain once we’re in the job.’ He didn’t expect her to have much at all, did he?

      She hadn’t broken the eye contact. ‘And you’ve been in the job how long?’

      ‘Coming up to ten years.’

      ‘And you do this kind of training how often?’

      ‘We get reassessed every six months.’

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