She watched his face, frankly examining him. “You’re very loyal.”
“Bobby W says your greatest strength is your greatest liability.”
“In weightlifting? Business?”
“In anything. What’s yours?”
She looked as surprised by the question as he was. “My greatest strength?”
“Bobby W also says when a person repeats a question, it’s a good indicator she’s lying.”
That got an embarrassed laugh out of her. “I have nothing to hide.”
“So what’s your greatest strength?”
“According to my boss, Dennis Hamilton,” she said, “tenaciousness.”
“Like a dog with a bone?”
She nodded. “Perhaps.”
“And that’s not always pretty.”
“Not to the bone, at least.”
It was as if someone had lifted a screen from her face, and the sadness, the arrogance disappeared. Lucas knew without trying that he didn’t have a line in his entire repertoire that would workon her. And he didn’t care. He on the sofa, she on the chair, they sat locked in a perfect moment of Lyle’s voice and eye contact, and, yes, a smile. Rikki was smiling, and she probably didn’t even know it.
“When this is over,” he said, “do you suppose we could spend some time together?”
“What kind of time?” She’d shut him out again, and he realized how he must sound to her.
“I’m sorry. You’re probably seeing someone. It was a rude question.”
“Not that rude.” She met his gaze and leaned forward. “I was seeing someone, sort of.” She flushed. “I’m not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated. Something out of our control.”
“Do you still care about each other?”
She shrugged. “As I said, it’s complicated. What about you?”
“Just your basic workaholic without a life.” That should have been enough, but something in him drove the rest of the truth—the truth he hadn’t even shared with friends like Ellen—through his lips. “Before I went to work for Killer Body, I was married to my high school sweetheart.”
“Married?” She hadn’t expected that one, he could tell. What would Bobby W say in a situation like this?
“For five minutes. It was the biggest mistake I ever made.”
She frowned. “How nice for your former wife to be described in such terms.”
Why couldn’t he do anything right with this woman? He leaned forward on the sofa, trying to regain the previous magic. “She’d probably say the same thing about me and be right.”
“Okay, if you say so.” But she had withdrawn. Her posture was straighter, her expression more guarded. “Speaking of Mr. Warren,” she said, “how much longer before I can talk to him?”
The same question had been buzzing in his head. “Let me check on him.”
He took the stairs two at a time, remembering a night when his instincts had saved the old man’s life. That had required a trip to the emergency room.
