Page 36 of High Value Target

“When I was in the military, I went through special forces training.”

“You were in special forces?”

“Yes, ma’am. Endless days of long, torturous runs, obstacle courses, unending calisthenics in the hot sun, days without sleep and nights of always being cold and miserable.

“The instructors were constantly trying to find the weak of mind or body, but also those who could lead in an environment of constant stress, chaos, failure, and hardships. It was a lifetime of challenges crammed into six months of training.

“Making your bed is a simple task, mundane at best. To make it to perfection, we had to make sure the corners were square, the covers pulled tight, the pillow centered just under the headboard, the extra blanket folded neatly at the foot of the rack.

“But it taught us all something important. If you make your bed every morning, you will have accomplished the first task of the day. It will give you a small sense of pride, and it will encourage you to do another task, and another. It reinforces the fact that the little things in life matter. If you can’t do the little things right, you’ll never be able to do the big things right.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“I admit it does. But it works.”

When they got back to the house, she left him without a word. He realized she was just as competitive as he was, and she hated to lose. Seemed they had at least one thing in common.

Grady stood at the bottom of the staircase as she stomped up them and slammed the door to her bedroom.

He tried to look on the bright side. If she stayed in her room all day, miffed at him, he didn’t have to worry about her. The ball was tonight, and the team was already scouting the facility for him. After yesterday’s debacle, he wasn’t about to be surprised again.

He grabbed a quick shower, then came down, got a cup of coffee, and went outside to sit at a table by the pool. He needed to go over the building schematics Chris had sent to his phone. The ball would be held at the Tucker Hotel, a brand-new towering glass high-rise.

He was studying all the stairwell and elevator accesses when the door behind him clicked open. He twisted his head and caught sight of Tinsley out of the corner of his eye. She sashayed toward one of the lounge chairs, threw off her sheer white coverup to reveal a tiny black string bikini.

Grady’s mouth went dry as she reclined back, pushing her sunglasses to hold her hair back. His eyes moved over her. She must have rubbed in some sunscreen already, because her skin glowed like it had been rubbed with lotion.

If breaking his concentration was a competition, she’d just won. It was games like this where the fairer sex always had the weaponry and advantage. The corner of his mouth pulled up. She knew her assets, and she knew how to use them.

“It’s hot out here,” she said, fanning herself with her wide-brimmed hat.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes strayed, stopping on her breasts barely covered by the tiny top. He cleared his throat. He knew what she was up to with this stunt.

“Stop staring.”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” he asked.

“I need a nice sun-kissed glow for the ball tonight.”

He tried to go back to what he was doing and ignore her, but it was a challenge.

After about ten minutes, she flipped to her stomach and untied her top. She glanced over, and caught him watching. “It’s a backless dress. I can’t have a tan line, can I?”

Grady tried to ignore her, but it wasn’t easy. Not when all she had on was a skimpy bottom that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

He got a text from Chris and checked his phone.

A moment later, a splash drew his attention. The lounge chair was now vacant, except for the little string bikini top. He glanced at the water, and saw her come up on the far side, then swim back.

When she reached the edge, she hoisted herself up, coming out of the pool and walking to her chair to grab her towel and wrap it around her.

Then she strode past him without a word and disappeared inside.

His dick was rock hard. It was becoming a permanent state of being around this girl. He wasn’t sure he’d last the week. He glanced to the lounge chair, seeing she’d left her bikini top, and grinned. A memento for him?

The metal chair scraped along the concrete as he stood and walked over to scoop it up. He stuffed it in his pocket. Perhaps he’d twirl it around his finger in front of her, like she had those damn panties.

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