Covertly Strong (The Strong Series Book 1) by N.A. Alcorn

at least six pounds during our two-week hiatus. No doubt Momma Stratton kept his ass well-fed,” Slade adds to the current topic of conversation.
    “I can’t deny that, if I had a wife who possessed cooking skills that rivaled Mary Stratton’s, I’d probably put on some weight too. Have you ever had that woman’s chicken fettuccine Alfredo? Shit, she can cook,” Julian throws out as his mouth practically salivates at the mere idea of Momma Stratton’s undeniable cooking talents.
    Nix chuckles and nods his head in agreement. “I’m not disagreeing, but by the slow pace Irish managed today on the run, I’m thinking that she might have outdone herself.”
    Rob was the last guy to complete the six-mile run and intense swim the guys of Black Mamba participated in earlier in the day. Although a six-minute-mile pace isn’t slacking, it’s not considered stellar by men who’ve completed some of the most intense workouts known to man. The training they’ve been through over the years would make the men who finish the notoriously challenging Ironman Triathlon look like amateurs.
    Their conversation stops when they hear the emcee for the evening announce the first speaker of the night. A nice introduction about the accomplishments Dr. Felicia Santora has achieved with the charitable organization known as Project Smiles is revealed and the crowd gives a welcoming round of applause as she takes the stage.
    Nix lazily watches a woman stand up from a table towards the front of the room. She elegantly walks up the stairs that lead to the main stage. Her olive skin is revealed beautifully from the tasteful gown she wears.
    Damn, she has a fantastic body , he immediately thinks to himself as his gaze takes in the perfect curve of her toned ass.
    Her hair sways gently against her back as she makes her way to the center of the stage. She reaches the podium, shakes the emcee’s hand, and then turns to face the crowd.
    Once Nix’s eyes take in the presence of this woman, his entire body goes ramrod straight. His breath catches in his throat and the beat of his heart comes to an abrupt halt before starting back up at a furiously wild rhythm. Every cell in his body is acutely aware of her familiarity.
    What. The. Fuck.
    He blinks his eyes several times in absolute confusion as his retinas frantically scan her up and down, trying to make sense of the situation. His brain must be deceiving him. He surreptitiously glances down at the glass of Guinness that sits before him, silently questioning if someone slipped hallucinogenics in his drink.
    None of this is making sense.
    There is no fucking way it’s her—Sloan Walker. My Sloan.
    Adrenaline courses through his blood stream and his entire equilibrium is overwhelmed by the woman who stands before him, front and center in this very conference room. His hand goes to his chest, rubbing gently at the very spot that’s a constant reminder of the past. The last time he touched that spot was a little over a week ago when he was faced with a terrible nightmare of her—when he let himself remember her, remember the time they’d shared together.
    He tries to focus on the present.
    The emcee introduced her as Dr. Felicia Santora, but Nix knows that face. He knows those brown eyes and that perfect smile. His fingers have traced every inch of that silky, smooth, olive skin.
    She smiles warmly towards the crowd as she adjusts the mic at the podium. “Good evening, everyone. I am very humbled to be up here…”
    The sound of her voice and the shock of her presence spark electricity in his veins. Her voice . Yes, it’s been over fourteen goddamn years, but he knows that voice . He’d still know that voice anywhere.
    Is it really her?
    His mind races through a million questions, desperately searching for logical explanations. But nothing seems logical. His entire being is tangled up in chaotic confusion. Once he realizes the ridiculous placement of his hand, he quickly sets it down in his lap,