Under Pressure. Kira Sinclair
of his issue.
And he wanted to keep it that way.
Unfortunately, Kennedy’s request—no, demand—was going to blow that possibility straight out of the water.
And to put the icing on this craptastic cake, she would be there to witness his humiliation.
There was no doubt in Asher’s mind that just her presence was going to make the situation ten times worse. There was something about Kennedy Duchane that got under his skin.
Her scent. Her take-charge attitude. Her ability to call him on his bullshit and the way she stared at him out of those whiskey-brown eyes.
The fact that there was no way on God’s green earth he could touch her even though that was the only thing he wanted whenever she was close.
Even now, the scent of Kennedy’s perfume lingered in his office, taunting him long after she was gone.
It bothered him, the way she could affect him without even trying. The way his body always seemed to overrule his brain.
Kennedy was off-limits. His best friend’s little sister, his employee, not to mention nine years younger than he was. There were so many reasons to keep his hands to himself, but the more time he spent with her the harder that seemed to be.
His solution was to avoid Kennedy as much as he could. A little difficult considering she worked for the company he co-owned. So when that wasn’t possible, he did his best to push her away with snarky comments.
Lucky for him, she was easy to manipulate. Because he suspected if she ever realized how much power she held over him...she wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
And he could admit he’d probably earned her wrath.
The project she was ready to throw him headfirst into was a bad idea on multiple fronts. How the hell had he ended up in this situation?
More importantly, how could he extricate himself before everyone in his life discovered the secret he’d been hiding for years?
Picking up the phone, Asher dialed Knox’s cell.
He didn’t bother with pleasantries, just launched straight into the attack when his friend answered. “What the hell, man? You on death’s door?”
“Feels that way,” Knox croaked.
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you crawl through mud with a bullet hole oozing blood. I had a temp of one-oh-one when we took that little village outside of Kandahar. Suck it up, buttercup. We need you.”
“I’m not—” Knox’s words cut off abruptly, and he could hear the sound of scuffling in the background before a smooth, soft voice came on the line. “Asher, whatever you want, the answer is no.”
“Firecracker,” Asher said, a grin tugging at his lips.
Now, Avery Walsh was a woman he liked. And it wasn’t just because she delighted in giving his friend shit. That had a lot to do with his affection for her, but she was a force to be reckoned with all on her own. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m wonderful, but Knox feels like crap.”
“So he was saying.”
“I’ve already talked with Kennedy.” He could hear the suppressed humor in Avery’s voice and wanted to hate her for it, but couldn’t quite muster up the energy.
Damn Kennedy for her organizing tendencies and preemptive strike.
“Listen,” he started, modulating his voice into a smooth tone with only a hint of cajoling thrown into the mix.
“Don’t even start,” Avery warned. Asher wasn’t sure he liked the fact that the women in the group talked to each other on a regular basis. It was definitely becoming a problem for him.
“You’re not getting out of this one, Ash. Not this time.” She didn’t even bother to hide the laughter warming her words. He probably should have taken offense, but didn’t.
“I’m glad you think this is funny,” he drawled, leaning back and propping his feet up into their normal position on the edge of his desk.
His entire body relaxed, sinking down into the forgiving leather of his office chair.
This was familiar territory, bantering with a beautiful woman. Safe and comfortable, especially because he knew nothing he did or said could tempt Avery away from the man she loved.
“Trust me, it’s funny as hell,” she said. “Your pretty face is finally working against you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, you know you’re beautiful, Asher. And you use it to your advantage.”
Shit, he didn’t see anything wrong with that. The navy had taught them all to use the assets they’d been given. He was just following orders, nothing more, nothing less.
“It’s gratifying to see it turned against you for a change,” Avery continued.
“You know, I really liked you, doc...before you turned into such a ball buster.”
Avery chuckled, completely unfazed. “Your charm isn’t going to get you out of this one, sailor. Sorry.”
It had been a long shot, but one he’d had to at least try. Because the alternative... A cold wash of dread rushed through his body.
Saying goodbye to Avery, Asher disconnected and stared at his computer screen without actually seeing what was there.
Shit. He was out of options.
He’d stared down heartless terrorists. Watched as boys who were barely strong enough to hold the guns they were using died in a war they likely didn’t understand. He’d jumped out of perfectly functioning airplanes and plunged his body into raging cold seas. Putting his own life on the line was nothing new. Danger and fear were nothing new. That kind of stress he could easily deal with, because he was equipped to handle it. Felt comfortable and confident in his skills and training.
So why the hell couldn’t he conquer this?
The only easy day was yesterday.
Today, the Navy SEAL motto was cold comfort. Taking a deep breath, Asher forced himself to relax his body. He would find a way to make this work.
Kennedy hadn’t given him any other choice.
And he’d be damned if he’d let her see him at his weakest.
* * *
KENNEDY HALF EXPECTED to have to track Asher down, which was why she’d told him nine when their plane really didn’t leave until ten. Padding in extra time for disaster had simply been good strategy.
Until the man actually strolled up to the gate at eight.
She should have been relieved. She wasn’t. Because that meant they had an hour and a half to kill sitting outside their gate before their flight boarded.
Asher folded himself into the uncomfortable chair next to her, the bench kind with chrome arms sticking out to delineate each seat from the next. Why hadn’t he taken one chair down?
His shoulders rubbed against hers, forcing Kennedy to shift into the opposite corner to get away from him.
The flight was going to be hell.
“Nine, huh,” he murmured in that deep, dark voice that always managed to send a shiver down her spine.
The only outward reaction Kennedy allowed was for her mouth to tighten into a frown.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he said, stretching his legs out until they practically touched the bench on the opposite side of the aisle.
He was tall, at least a couple of inches over six feet. With wide shoulders and a narrow waist that tapered into the most perfect tight ass she’d ever seen. He could wear the hell