Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Sixteen

Five new graphics projects lay on her desk. If she sat twiddling her thumbs she'd go insane. The men took turns keeping an eye on her progress. As long as they stayed out of her way. Max was avoiding her—maybe he was just busy sorting out the tangled web of complications that was her life. He had no clue. That was just the tip. She wasn't letting him sail near the glacial mass that was her dangerous life, refusing to be the iceberg to his Titanic.

Anger swelled every time she thought of the smooth play he'd made for her head and her heart. He could simmer in his Bat Cave for the rest of the mission for all she cared. Except her fate was in his hands and, like it or not, she had to play nice, at least for the moment.

By the following morning, the agitated tension had Abby pulling out her yoga mat and shoving a strength and flexibility DVD into the TV unit. As she wasn't allowed to go swimming, this was the next best thing.

"Can I join you?"

The quiet voice behind her made her drop the remote control. Jesus, these big men moved like freaking ninjas.

"For the love of Christ, Slater, don't sneak up on a girl. You'll get a black eye for your efforts."

Slater snorted. "Yeah, like that's gonna happen. I'm not Max, sweetheart."

Abby's mouth quirked upwards at Slater's dig. Yep. Mr. Banana Hammock wasn't bad at all.

"So, can I join? I need to get my gym quota in for the day."

"You sure you want to work out to a stretching video? It's not the hardcore action-man stuff that you sleep, breathe and eat."

"Just play the damn thing, and let's get on with it."

"I don't have an extra mat, so the tile floor is your new friend."

"Yeah, yeah. I've worked out on far worse."

An hour later Abby sat down on her mat for a cooling-down session.

"That wasn't half bad!" Slater grinned. "That chick has some good moves."

Abby ignored him as she turned on music. A Buddha Bar tune drifted through the room. She grabbed a couple of pillows and threw them on the floor. Lying back, she got comfortable, placing one beneath her head and one under her knees. Finally, she took a slow breath.

"What are you doing now?" a meddlesome voice asked.

Abby cracked an eye open. "Trying to meditate?"

Slater looked horrified. "Do you want me to break out the green tea and a bag of weed while we're at it?"

"Live a little. Give it a try."

"No offense, Evans. You're serene and all, but you don't strike me as the 'think the flowers, feel the flowers, be the flowers' kind of girl."

Abby grinned, then grew serious. "I don't do the typical cross-legged, flowing pants, humming-ohm stuff. But I occasionally use relaxation exercises. My therapist taught me how. It's helped me through some of my worst moments."

"Oh damn. I'm such an ass, I'm sorry."

"Give it a go; it won't get all weird and Zen-y. Grab a throw pillow."

Slater stared at her before hunkering down and getting comfortable.

"Close your eyes and still your body."

"What if I have an itch?"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Then scratch it."

Slater scratched his family jewels causing Abby to giggle. "Let me know when you're done."