The Sheikh's Accidental Heir(40)

By: Leslie North

“Maybe not. But you’re standing in my way just as much as I’m standing in yours. We work toward the same goal, we both get what we want.”

“And what is it you want, Miss Wynifred? A fat bank account? A title at some Ivy League school? People to notice you for something other than your ugly green skirt?”

Had she been wired, body temperature tracked at her forehead would have spiked, her palms would have registered perspiration, and sensors might have picked up increased activity in her occipital lobe, where she imagined herself giving the walking ego of the Portland Rogues a swift kick between the goal posts.

Also, her skirt was red.

“You were right about one thing. I know zip—less than zip—about this game. But you, King? You know even less about people.” Claire reversed course down the long hallway, mindful that he watched every nuance of her retreat. “Training facility, tomorrow. Eight a.m. sharp.”

“Tomorrow’s my day off.”

“Take Monday off, and you can count on a day off Sunday, too.”

Five steps. Six. Seven. Damn, she didn’t remember the hallway being this long.

“Nice to meet you, ClaireBear.”

Without breaking stride, Claire fired back, “Call me that again and all the other insignificant data I lifted from the sensors in your pants become common knowledge.”

Claire rounded the corner to the elevators, broke into a smile, and hi-fived the troll-like Rogue mascot painted on the wall.

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