“The trainer was slapped with a fine.”
“That’s it?” Her voice rises. “That’s all he got? Then what’s the use of us—”
“You never stop trying,” I interrupt fiercely. “You never stop fighting. Because sometimes you make a difference.”
“And you’re hoping I’ll make a difference at SolomiChem.”
“Yeah, I am. And the video you took could be just what we need to bring them down.”
“If it isn’t? If nothing changes?”
“If we fail, there’s always another fight.”
She exhales hard. “It must be emotionally exhausting always running on that wheel.”
“Emotions? What’s that?” I ask, teasing a watery smile from her. I revel in her smile for a moment, then I ask, “Did Lean Cuisine give you any trouble today?”
Heather shakes her head. “Glen kept his distance. You obviously intimidated him into behaving himself.”
I give a skeptical grunt. “He doesn’t strike me as the behaving type. He seems more a vindictive kind of guy.”
“There you go, looking on the bright side again,” she jokes lightly.
I don’t smile. Instead, I ask abruptly, “Who assigned you to assist with the necropsy of the primates?”
“Glen did.” She falters. “Oh,” she breathes, getting it.
“Coward.” I swallow the anger burning my throat. “I’d like to wring his scrawny neck, but at least his cowardice worked in our favor. We got video.”
A shudder goes through Heather at the mention of the video.
Searching for a safer subject, I comment, “Your father’s not what I expected. He’s nice.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You’re fortunate. You’re the product of yourupbringing. As am I.”
“From what you’ve said, it sounds like you had a neglected one.”
I try to keep my face blank, but I can’t mask my discomfort. So she noticed the inadvertent conversational clues. “Exactly. Not much of an upbringing, so not much substance to the product.”
“Oh, Justin, you couldn’t be more wrong,” she says, so firmly my attention is caught. “I care about you too much to let you believe that about yourself.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You care about me?”
“Out of everything I said, that made an impact?”
“Superficial creature that I am, yes.” My hand cradles her face. “Look at me.”
Her eyes jump to mine. I hold her stare while I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then I dip my head so my lips brush softly over hers. A shiver steals through her as I tease her with the promise of a kiss.
An electric tension travels between us.
I’ve tried to be a better man and keep her at arm’s length, but I want her too much. Logically, I know we don’t fit together. Right now, though, I’m thinking with a part of my body where very little logic is involved.
“I’m tired of this,” I say in a rough voice.
“Tired of what?”
