He’d made it through Hell Week, pushed himself beyond his bodily limits and conquered the five-and-a-half-day bitch special dished out by his commanders that few men made it through. BUD/S training had been a cakewalk after that. Yet, an hour too long on a fucking treadmill had whipped his ass. No, it hadn’t been the extra time that had done it. The abrupt turn he’d taken in mid-step when Lena Conley had walked her sexy ass out the front door to her car had been his downfall. He really had damn near fallen on his ass. His left foot had come down on the treadmill belt at the wrong time, his knee had twisted, and pain had shot straight to his hip. He didn’t know how he’d managed to stay on his feet as the beautiful vixen retrieved something out of her car, waved at him on her way back up the drive, and disappeared back into the house. He’d done it, though. At least until she’d gotten out of sight. Then, he’d hit the deck…or the belt, as the case turned out to be.
