Covert Affairs by Misty Evans

Author:Misty Evans [Evans, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781948686761
Publisher: Beach Path Publishing, LLC

Fourteen

A few hours later, Rory was in his usual spot when Vivi arrived with Dr. Thorpe’s workout list in hand.

She made a face as she stepped off the elevator, and pursed her lips as she walked to the computer station he’d assigned her.

She set the paper on the desk. “What do you have for me today?”

He wheeled over and, nosy fellow that he was, glanced at the list. “Keep on cross-checking the numbers I gave you yesterday with the records from 12 September’s file. We still need to find the connection between their movements and those bank deposits in the Cayman account.”

She flopped into the chair, waking up the computer. She didn’t have time for this, but he was now a patient, even though he didn’t realize it. “On it.”

“What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the therapist’s handwriting.

Entering her password, she threw her husband under the bus. She’d explain it to him later. “Ian thinks I need conditioning.”

A grunt. “Does he now?”

“He’s not wrong. Six months in prison and ten pounds of lost weight have made me weak. I’m not much of an exerciser though, and he’s so…buff. Virile. He can lift staggering amounts of weight, has freaky roadrunner speed, and, well, you know. SEALs.” She rolled her eyes. “I might need you to kill me before four o’clock. He’s going to kick my ass, and I’m going to totally embarrass myself. I don’t even know what half of those things are.”

Rory punched her shoulder playfully. “There’s an easy fix, you know.”

She glanced over with hope in her eyes. “What?”

“Just say no.”

Her shoulders deflated and she focused on the screen again. “Easy for you to say. No offense, but I don’t have an easy excuse like you not to show up. I mean, he’s right—it’s not only my brain that’s a wasteland right now. I have no strength, no stamina. I’m a wreck from head to toe.”

Rory rolled off toward his desk. “I’ve seen a helluva lot worse, Doc. Don’t beat yourself up.”

She let it rest for a while, working on the project he’d given her, getting him coffee, as part of their pact, and occasionally making a production out of reading the list. “What’s a leg curl?” she called over her monitor.

His fingers flew over the keyboard and a picture of a muscle-bound guy popped onto her screen.

“Why do I have to do three sets of fifteen reps?” She gave a painful sigh. “Please just kill me now. Not only do I not know what the exercises are, I’ll die trying to do them. I’m going to be so embarrassed.”

One of those infamous grunts. “You don’t seem the type to give a flying fig about what someone thinks of you.”

“You’re right.” She sat up straighter and tossed the paper aside. “Who cares if he’s a SEAL and his body alone makes me look like a runt? Who cares that I’m skinny and out of shape? I’ll play to his male ego, the helpless damsel in distress who doesn’t know the names of the exercises or how to do them.

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