Win, Lose...Or Wed!

The doors opened, and the camera crews poured out.

“Run, don’t walk,” she explained. “And whatever we do, never look back.”

Jace could handle that. “Works for me.”

CHAPTER TWO

REMEMBER the game plan. All she had to do was run.

Easier said than done, Millie realized two blocks from the bus stop at the intersection of Chestnut and Fillmore Streets. Her feet pounded against the hard pavement as she tried to keep up with Jace, who ran twenty feet ahead of her.

He looked back at her. “Come on.”

“Right behind you.” Thank goodness the trendy Marina District was pancake flat with rows of well-kept houses, garages on the first floor, and utility cables strung from the wide, treeless streets to the rooflines. “Don’t worry about me.”

She could do the worrying for both of them.

Running on the track back at school was much easier than a cement sidewalk in the city, especially with garbage cans in the way, cars pulling out of driveways, a camera crew capturing every jarring step and her teammate, Jace Westfall, telling her to pick up the pace.

You can always stop if you think the race will be too much for you.

Millie inhaled sharply, the salty air filling her thirsty lungs. No doubt Jace’s words had provided a perfect sound bite for the show. Had he said them for her or for the cameras or both? Not that it mattered. She couldn’t stop. Not even if she wanted to. Her kids needed her to race. To win.

She pushed herself forward, focusing on Jace’s back. She’d had an uninterrupted view of his butt since they both leaped off the bus, and he’d been increasing his lead with his long, powerful stride and fluid motion. Of course, any living, breathing female could appreciate how well his warm-up pants fit in all the right places.

“Be careful,” he called over his shoulder. “Obstacle ahead.”

What was she doing? Cute butt or not, he was simply her teammate for the duration of the race. Thinking about him in any other way would only complicate matters.

Millie focused on a thirty-something blond woman pushing a high-tech stroller toward them. “I see them.”

As he maneuvered between the pair on the sidewalk and a garbage can at the curb, the woman with the baby smiled at him and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. Unbelievable. Even moms weren’t immune to Jace Westfall’s charms.

Millie lengthened her stride to pass the stroller and finally—finally!—caught up with him. Running next to Jace, or better yet ahead of him, would be preferable to staying behind him. The cameraman and audio guy ran alongside them. She didn’t know how they kept up with all that gear.

“You’re doing great, Freckles,” he said, sounding not the least bit winded.

“Thanks.” She snuck a peek at him. He looked totally unaffected by the running or the race or the camera focused on them. “Do you think it’s much further?”

“The bus driver said if we stayed on Fillmore Street we couldn’t miss the Marina Green.” He glanced her way. “Why don’t we stop for water?”

She pressed her lips together. Even though she’d love a sip of water, she did not need him to make allowances for her. No way would she be the weak link on their team. She was tough enough, smart enough and determined enough to handle anything Cash Around the Globe threw at her. Including Jace.

“I’m fine.” And Millie was. She just needed to remain focused. So what if her entire world had done a one-eighty and she felt as if she’d stepped into opposite town where no meant yes and full meant empty? She could—and would—do this. “We can get a drink once we find the clue.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” A sound caught her attention. “I hear a foghorn.”

“We must be close. Give me your pack.”

She ran faster. “I’ve got it.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

As the sounds of traffic grew louder, Millie accelerated. But doing so wasn’t easy. She felt heavier, not from the forty pound weight strapped to her back, but from Jace’s obvious lack of confidence in her abilities. She would show him.

“There’s the flag,” he said.

Across a multilane street on a large expanse of green grass, a familiar looking flag furled in the breeze. They’d found it. Thank goodness.

“I see it.” Millie also saw two other racers, both wearing black, and her relief vanished. “There’s another team.”

Jace took a step off the curb. A yellow taxi zipped dangerously close. She grabbed at his backpack as he jumped back on the curb.

He didn’t notice. Frustration crossed his face. “So close, yet so far.”

“Close enough.” Millie released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Beating one team isn’t worth risking your life for.”

“Right,” he agreed. “No risking death unless we see two.”

Maybe she should have let him take his chances with the traffic. At least then he couldn’t come back at her and say she’d held him back. “Two teams?”

“Okay, Freckles. Make that three teams.”

The black team huddled over their clue. They ran to the parking lot bordering the water on the far side of the grass.

“We don’t know how many teams are ahead of us,” she said.

“Or behind us.”

Jace’s playful smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, softening the chiseled planes of his face. Tingles filled her stomach, the way they had during The Groom, but she knew the reaction had as much to do with his upbeat attitude as his grin. Millie felt herself being sucked into the depths of his steady gaze. And a part of her wanted to go.

Not good. Not good at all.

Millie looked into the rushing traffic to break the contact. She tapped her toe against the sidewalk eager for the light to change.

Distance. She needed distance. And a new teammate.

“Seriously,” Jace said. “All we have to do is catch up to the team ahead of us and we’ll be fine.”

“Team?” She squinted across the lanes of speeding traffic to search for the black team and any others who had found the clue box, but saw only men playing Ultimate Frisbee and a dog walker being pulled by five dogs. “Don’t you mean teams?”

“Think positive,” Jace encouraged. “Isn’t that what your father would say?”

Millie’s insides twisted. “Uh, sure.”