He Loves Lucy

Chapter 2

January

Journal Entry Jan 1

Breakfast: 3A c oatmeal; 1 c skim milk; ` c strawberries; half decaf/half regular coffee

Lunch: 3 oz chicken breast; 1 slice whole wheat bread; 1 tbsp light mayo; celery; lettuce; tomato; 1 med apple

Dinner: 3 oz corned beef; 1 c cooked cabbage; large salad w/orange and red peppers, tomatoes, cucumbers, and 2 tbsp light ranch dressing

Snack: 1 c plain yogurt; 1/4 c light granola; 1 orange

Affirmation for Today:

I am strong enough to refrain from killing any or all

members of my family.

“Lucinda, honey, would you pass the soda bread?”

Lucy handed the still-warm Irish bread to her mother and tried not to let the heavenly scent enter her nostrils and pierce her primordial brain, which would force her to stick her face directly into the basket and growl like a starving alley dog as she ripped off giant hunks with her incisors.

“You’re eating like a bird.” It was the fifth time her father had made that observation since they sat down to dinner. “No potatoes. No bread. Are you sick?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Bill. Leave her alone. You know she’s on that diet.” Lucy watched with envy as her mother slathered butter all over a thick chunk of soda bread and savored a healthy bite.

Lucy reached for her glass of ice water and sipped demurely, looking around the New Year’s Day table, wondering why she’d thought she could survive another visit to the Land o‘ Food when Christmas had been such an unmitigated disaster. She still hadn’t come clean to Theo about the pecan pie from December 26 and the deception was gnawing a hole in her soul. She’d promised that everything that went into her mouth would go into her food journal, and she’d already blown it, not even a month into her new life. And tomorrow was her first weigh-in! On live television!

She had no choice but to come clean. It’s not like she could say she forgot she ate half a pie.

“What kind of diet is it again, honey?”

The kind where you sneak a half a pecan pie.

“It’s not a diet, Mother. Lucy calls it a fitness and nutrition plan.” This clarification came from Lucy’s older sister, Mary Fran, who was shoveling some kind of green bean paste from a jar into the open maw of her youngest.

Lucy watched her nephew spew most of it out and bang his fists on the high chair tray. She could relate. If she didn’t get a piece of that soda bread in the next five seconds, she’d be banging her fists on the table as well. Somehow, she’d survived an entire month eating nothing but whole grains, fresh produce, and lean cuts of meat. What the hell kind of torture was that! Nothing fried. Nothing gooey. Nothing with icing on it. Nothing even vaguely cupcake-shaped. Lucy didn’t think she’d make it through this dinner without shaming herself.

“She doesn’t need to diet. She’s beautiful.” Her father patted Lucy’s hand. “Have some potatoes, sweetheart. You won’t have good luck this year unless you do.”

“Where do you get this stuff, Daddy? I swear!” Mary Fran wiped a green smear off little Holden’s face while attempting to feed herself. Lucy decided it was no wonder Frannie was thin. She never had a second to eat. Maybe having three babies in five years was the secret to staying thin.

Lucy’s eyes strayed to her mother. Cancel that.

“So how much poundage you dropped so far, Luce?” Dan could always be counted on to cut to the chase. That’s what brothers were for, she supposed.

Her mother gasped. “Danny! What a rude thing to ask! I hope to God that’s not the way you speak to your patients!” Then, from across the table, she produced a sympathetic smile for Lucy. “So how much have you lost, honey?”

Lucy was in the throes of a bad case of deja vu and looked at her watch. It wasn’t like she could feign a work emergency today and get in the car and drive the forty-five minutes to Miami. Even Stephan Sherrod, the world’s worst boss, managed to avoid marketing and advertising emergencies on New Year’s Day.

“I don’t know how much weight I’ve lost, Dan, Mother, Daddy, Frannie. As I think I may have mentioned at Christmas, my trainer will weigh me just once a month, and tomorrow marks the end of my first full month. Right now, the numbers aren’t as important as improving my fitness level.”

“So you haven’t lost anything yet?”

Lucy gave Dan the look of disgust she reserved only for her baby brother. “You’ll be the first to know. The minute I’m weighed, I’ll have them put out an all-points bulletin. It’s unfortunate you’re still in Pittsburgh, or you could just watch the WakeUp Miami show like everyone else.”

“I think you look great,” Mary Fran said, hauling Holden’s wiggling body from the high chair. Lucy watched her hustle into the kitchen, where she held the baby over the kitchen sink and used a damp paper towel to scrape bean paste from his hair and clothing. Then she called out, “Just don’t try to lose too much too fast, Lucy! That’s dangerous!”

“I’m doing my best to avoid that.”

Dan laughed.

“Well, I saw the ad in the Herald the other day,” her mother said. “You should’ve worn your hair down, sweetheart. You look much better with it down. But your trainer looked like a movie star. Here. Have some more brisket.”

Lucy decided maybe she could lie about the work emergency. “Thanks, Mom. I think. I’ll pass on the beef.”

“So let me see if I understand this, pumpkin.” Lucy’s father offered her a slice of bread, which she managed to turn down. “You and Jack La Lanne get to split a hundred grand if you pull this off?”

Lucy sighed, positive that she’d gone over the details with her father at least once. “No. We each get a thousand dollars for each pound I lose, up to one hundred.”

“And that crazy boss of yours is paying for this? Was this his idea?”

“It was my idea to capitalize on the reality-show makeover craze and build a campaign around one person’s success story. I just didn’t know it would be me. That was my crazy boss’s idea, and our client-the Palm Club-agreed to put up the cash.”

Dan cleared his throat. “Uh, Luce? Aren’t you afraid somebody will figure out that you’re… well, you know… the girl who brought down the Pitt State football program? The famous slump buster?”

“Daniel Murphy Cunningham!” Her mother’s fork crashed to her plate. “How could you? You know we’ve agreed never to speak of the Taco Bowl incident in front of Lucy!”

“What in God’s name did he just say?” Mary Fran yelled over the running faucet.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, really.” Lucy had worried the same thing, so she couldn’t blame Dan for asking. “I’d never do this kind of thing back home, but it happened ten years ago in Pittsburgh. It probably didn’t even make the news down here.”

Dan shot her a grateful look. “I just wanted to make sure you’d thought this through.”

“I told Stephan I wouldn’t do it at first, but then he dangled the money in front of me, and I saw it as my way to escape Sherrod amp; Thorns and start my own company. It was just too good to pass up.”

Her brother frowned. “But what happens if you blow it?”

“Dan!” Mary Fran hustled back to the table and shoved Holden into her brother’s lap. “She’s not going to blow it! Lucy can do anything she sets her mind to.”

Holden chose that moment to rake his little raggedy baby fingernails across Dan’s cheek. “Ow!”

“I think what we’re asking is, are you sure you want to put yourself out there like this?” Lucy’s mother reached across the table to stroke her fingers. “It’s a huge challenge, Lucy. I just don’t want to see my sweet girl hurt or humiliated-not ever again.”

“Thanks, Mom. I think. But it’s too late now. The Palm Club is paying our agency a lot of money to run this campaign, and I’m the campaign-monthly appearances on Wake Up Miami, a weekly column in Miami Woman, the biggest advertising blitz I’ve ever put together. I have no choice but to be successful.”

“That’s an awful lot of pressure to put on yourself, Luce.” Mary Fran looked worried.

“By God, those reality TV shows are something, aren’t they?” Her father served himself more potatoes. “They make over your car, your house, your marriage, your filing cabinet, your face.” He went for the cabbage next. “I think the only frontier left for TV is ritual human sacrifice and live copulation.”

Lucy’s mother rolled her eyes. Mary Fran pursed her mouth in disgust. Then Dan said, “You must not have direct satellite yet.”

The men took a cleaned-up Holden into the family room to watch football while the women cleared the table. Since her sister had traveled from Atlanta with just one kid, Lucy hoped they might have time to chat. But Frannie looked like she needed a nap more than a heart-to-heart.

“How’s Keith doing?”

Mary Fran sighed at Lucy’s question. “The usual. He claimed the promotion would mean less time on the road, but I don’t see it.”

Lucy put a stack of leftovers in the refrigerator, concerned by the fatigue in her sister’s voice.

“He said that’s just temporary, right?”

Mary Fran looked up from the sink. “I’m not falling for that again.”

“If you ask me, you look like you’re just plain ready to fall over.” Lucy’s mother hugged Mary Fran and suggested Lucy take her to the guest room for a rest.

“We’ll have dessert a little later.” Her mother gave Lucy a wink. “Pecan pie. Your favorite.”

Lucy sat on the edge of the guest bed and watched Mary Fran peel off her size 4 jeans and crawl under the handmade quilt. She tried to remember what it felt like to be a size 4 and take up this little space on a double bed, but her memory of second grade was fuzzy.

“So tell me about this trainer, Luce.” Mary Fran took a deep breath and pulled the quilt up under her chin. She looked pale. “Is she a weight-lifter chick? Or one of those aerobics instructor-cheerleader types?”

Lucy smiled a little, realizing that Fran hadn’t been inundated by the image of Lucy and Theo at metro stops. She also realized she’d never been asked to describe Theo to anyone.

Four weeks had now passed, which meant she’d made it through twenty one-hour training sessions. He met her at the door every weekday before dawn, wearing his trainer getup, never a minute late, always in good spirits. He was accredited out the yin-yang in everything from sports nutrition to exercise physiology. He was patient but pushed her to go a little higher, do a little more, every day. As a bonus, he remained the most searingly hot man-babe she’d ever laid eyes on.

“My trainer is a he, and he’s quite good at his job,” Lucy said.

Frannie looked at her suspiciously. “That cute, huh?” “Lord help me-I think I’m gonna die if I don’t get me some of that.”

Frannie laughed. “This sounds promising.” It was Lucy’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, well, a girl can dream, but he’s way out of my league, and besides, it seems he already dates half the premenopausal female population of South Beach.”

“Hmm. When was your last date, Luce?” Lucy sighed, hating to admit the truth. “Remember the Oktoberfest two years ago? Very good schnitzel, very bad date?”

“You mean that programmer dweeb Keith set you up with?”. “Yep.” “The one who said you had childbearing hips?”

“That would be him.”

“My God, Lucy. You haven’t gone out since?”

“I think that night cured me of my urge to date.”

Mary Fran patted Lucy’s arm and laughed. “We’ll go out on the town together. Meet some people. I’ll be running away from Atlanta soon anyway, so how about I move in with you? We can party every weekend. Won’t that be fun?”

Lucy reared back and stared. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh hell, Lucy.” Her sister’s words came out soft and sad. “He’s never home-and I mean never. We’re lucky to have two family dinners together a month.”

“Jeesh!”

“I think I’ve had it. I’m so tired some days I can’t stay awake.”

“Oh, Frannie. Does Keith know how much you need him at home?”

Mary Fran laughed. “The man knows. Trust me.” She got quiet. “I think he’s having an affair.”

“What?” Lucy sat up straight. “I’m going to kill him!”

Fran yawned. “Maybe I’m just imagining it, but when he’s not on the road he can’t wait to get out of the house, and it’s such chaos all the time that I can’t blame him. I just wonder if he’s running to someone else- someone who doesn’t have kid snot on the front of her blouse.”

“Oh, Fran.” Lucy stroked her sister’s sassy little haircut. “Talk to Keith. Confront him.”

Mary Fran leaned against her sister and shook her head. “I’d rather just hang out with you and enjoy the single Miami girl lifestyle.”

Lucy chuckled. “Yes, just day after day of nothing but sex, clubbing, sex, sex, sex.”

Mary Fran turned her sleepy gaze to Lucy. “It might be for the best. Sex is what got me in this mess to begin with.”

“But it’s such a good mess.” Lucy kissed her sister’s cheek, seeing once again why people used to say Mary Fran was a miniature version of herself. Her sister was two years older, five inches shorter, and God knew how many pounds lighter, but with the same color hair and eyes and light pink complexion. Her petite cuteness didn’t bother Lucy as much as it used to, and seeing her wrung out like this broke Lucy’s heart.

“Anyway,” she said with a sigh, “I only have a one-bedroom and we’d end up killing each other over bathroom countertop space.”

Mary Fran had no comeback for that, because she’d fallen asleep.

Theo took a seat at the conference table and smiled at Tyson on his right, then Lola on his left. Palm Club staff meetings were always painful, but today’s promised to be agonizing, because they were going to discuss the Lucy Cunningham project and Lola DiPaolo was already sneering at him.

Their boss, Ramona Cortez, regaled them with end-of-year sales figures and assigned trainers for several new clients, then gestured toward Theo. “Get us up to speed on how your fifteen minutes of fame is going.”

He felt the heat of Lola’s mascara-laden evil eye just before she said, “Fifteen minutes that’s gonna drag on for a whole frickin‘ year.”

Theo laughed along with every other trainer in the room, including his best friend, Tyson Williams, a bald and baby-faced former University of Florida running back who showed a bit of wear and tear that morning. Theo wondered which of Tyson’s favorite clubs had kept him from his beauty sleep.

“We’re doing great so far. We’re in here every weekday morning at five, so give her a little encouragement if you see her. She’s going to need all the support she can get.”

“And what are you gonna need at the end of this year? An updated resume?”

Theo grinned at the remark from one of the trainers across the table and waited till the laughter subsided. “Miss Cunningham and I will get the job done,” he said.

“Too bad the cameras weren’t here the day she upchucked her M amp;M’s,” Lola said with a laugh.

“No such thing as too many documentaries on how to perform the modified Heimlich maneuver,” Tyson added.

“It was Milk Duds,” Theo said.

Ramona jumped in. “We’re already getting an amazing amount of press with this project. It’s possible some of you will be approached by the media for comment in the coming months, so please clear it with me first before you’re interviewed.” She smiled at Theo. “This campaign is costing a bundle up front, but we’re going to reap the benefits for years to come.”

Lola frowned and shook her head. “Have you ever had a client drop a hundred pounds in a year? I mean, get real, Theo!”

“No, I haven’t.” It was the truth. He’d never tried something this ambitious, with this kind of timetable or public exposure. Of course, he’d cared for obese patients as a med student and helped some clients make dramatic changes in their lives, but lately it had been one nearly-perfect-on-the-outside Palm Club client after the next.

Frankly, it was getting old.

“Remember my client who lost sixty pounds?” Lola charged on with her story, oblivious to the fact that no one remembered any such client. “Well, I heard she left her husband for the China Wok delivery boy.”

Theo wasn’t sure what point Lola was attempting to make, as usual.

Tyson turned to Theo. “Looks like she’s sticking with it. You doing six days?”

Lucy was sticking with it, and though her first weigh-in was still a few days away, he could see the change in her. Her aerobic capacity was up. Her upper-body strength had already improved. She’d obviously lost weight. She was handling the nutrition plan well and had been sticking with daily journaling, short-term goal setting, and counseling. He’d done a boatload of research on cardio training and muscle toning for women, along with the newest motivation strategies. He’d picked the brains of a couple of his friends now in sports medicine. He’d even taped a few episodes of Dr. Phil.

“We’re doing five days on, one light day, and one rest day. She has access to me round the clock.”

“Oooh. Every girl’s dream,” Lola cooed.

Tyson stared at Theo, his head cocked to the side, his dark eyes quite wide. “One hundred pounds, though, man. I still say better you than me.”

Ramona closed the meeting, sending the trainers out into the gym, but stopped Theo at the door.

“Got a minute?”

He leaned on the table edge and crossed his arms over his chest. “Absolutely.”

Ramona smiled at him. “You know, you’re the best trainer I have and the only one I could have trusted with this. I wanted to tell you I appreciate how hard you’re working.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Look, Theo. I realize you’ve got your sights set higher than the Palm Club. I knew that when I hired you three years ago.” Ramona’s warm brown eyes crinkled with her smile. “You’re going to handle Lucy and all the media attention beautifully. And I know that when it’s over and you’ve got your money, you’ll leave here and finish med school. How close am I to being right?”

Theo let go with a laugh. Ramona was so easy to work for that he sometimes found himself thinking of her as more a friend than a boss. But at her core, she was a shrewd businesswoman. When she held out that one-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus as bait, she knew he’d bite, and she even knew why.

“If they let me back in, yes.”

“They’ll let you in.”

Theo shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I love what I do here, Ramona.”

“And your clients love that you do it.” She let loose with a wide grin and patted his shoulder. “When the agency suggested the idea, I knew it had to be you. All I ask is that you let Lucy Cunningham down easy when she falls in love with you.”

Theo was used to this kind of teasing. He had an undeserved rep for being a player, and nobody but Tyson knew that he rarely dated. Between raising Buddy, working two jobs, Special Olympics coaching, and studying his ass off for the reentry exam, there wasn’t time for women, especially another one who’d break his heart. He hoped someday that might change, but that day seemed a ways off.

“And a year is a very long time for a lonely woman to be in close proximity to Theo-dorable.”

He shrugged and decided to play along. “I can’t help it that I’m devastatingly handsome and perfect in every way.”

Ramona chuckled, headed for the door, then turned back toward him. “To your clients, that’s exactly what you are.” Theo tried to cut her off, but she held up her hand. “Do you know you’ve got a waiting list of females a mile long? Have you noticed that out of your forty active clients there is only one man, and he’s in love with you, too?”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Lucy is our meal ticket. The world will watch her go from frumpy to fabulous in your care and we’ll be the hottest fitness franchise in the state-hotter even than Goldstein’s Gym, and you know how long I’ve wanted to bury that sleazy bastard.”

“I know.”

“Your job is to keep Lucy Cunningham motivated and on track. Get as close to her as you need, but keep it professional. I know you can walk that line.”

Theo frowned at his boss, incredulous. “She is not exactly my type, Ramona.”

She shook her head and laughed. “But you’re hers, Theo. You’re every woman’s type.”

Theo closed his eyes and sighed. “I can handle Lucy Cunningham.”

Ramona had already shut the door behind her.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Lucy did. And the number on the scale seemed too good to be true. She looked up into the TV studio camera and gasped, “I lost twenty-two pounds?”

She blinked into the lights while the WakeUp Miami audience applauded. Theo offered her his hand, helped her down from the scale, and escorted her back to the row of upholstered chairs on the set. Lucy felt the cameras trail behind her and heard an occasional whistle or hoot from the crowd.

“Congratulations, Lucy,” cooed cohost John Weaver, who clapped right along with the audience.

She felt a little self-conscious sitting there in her snug pink sweatpants and a T-shirt, all eyes and smiles focused on her. At least it was a new T-shirt. A pretty lime green color the makeup people said looked nice against her complexion.

“Do you feel any different, Lucy? Tell us-how in the world does that feel?” Carolina Buendia’s question caused the applause to taper off, and Lucy swallowed uncomfortably. She glanced at Theo, who gave her a wink.

Lucy tapped the small microphone clipped to her shirt, hunched her shoulder to bring her mouth close, and said, “I feel smaller.”

Theo finished measuring Lucy for the second time that morning, then led her from the Palm Club’s trainer room out into the gym.

“Well?”

“The measurements I got at the TV studio were accurate.” Theo shook his head in disbelief.

“But this is good, right?”

“Too good. I don’t want you losing this fast.”

She stopped walking. “What are you, nuts?”

They arrived at the treadmill. Theo punched in a ten-minute warm-up program and Lucy hopped on.

“I expected you to lose a lot up front. That’s normal. But you lost eight inches and twenty-two pounds, and that’s too much in one month. I need to keep you in the two-pound-a-week range.”

Lucy perked up at that. “So I get to eat more?”

“You wish.” Theo playfully tugged on the towel around her neck, then made some notes on his clipboard. “I’ll weigh and measure you once a week for a while to keep a better eye on things, see if I need to make adjustments. But that will be for my eyes only. I don’t want you to get too attached to numbers.”

He looked up, caught her eye, and smiled. “The bottom line is you’re doing great, Lucy. I’m proud of you. So how was your New Year’s?”

Lucy tried to let everything he’d just said sink in. She was a success. She was too successful! Maybe she didn’t have to tell him about the pecan pie after all.

Obviously, it hadn’t hurt her. Maybe this whole weight loss thing would be a snap. Suddenly, for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why she hadn’t tried this sooner!

“My New Year’s was marvy. Partied all night with the beautiful people.”

Theo gave her a crooked smile that made her stomach do a strange flip-flop. “Yeah, I spent it with my family, too. Less aggravation.”

“We obviously don’t have the same family.”

Theo let his smile linger for a moment while he reached for her wrist and took her pulse. Lucy had become accustomed to Theo touching her, but it still sent a charge through her nervous system every time, and she knew he’d never get an accurate pulse rate that way. She was tempted to tell him to subtract at least 10 from the figure.

When he was done, he patted her forearm affectionately and went back to his clipboard. “How did you do with your nutrition plan the last few days?”

“Good. My journal’s in my gym bag.”

She watched Theo bend down, push aside her water bottle, and root through her clean underwear before he pulled out the journal. She could have died. But really, was there anything left to hide from the man? He knew her weight to the digital ounce, her percentage of body fat-which was less than 98 percent, thank God- along with her body mass index, resting heart rate, base metabolic rate, and cholesterol level. He knew what foods she craved and exactly when she craved them. Besides, it wasn’t like her white granny panties would trip his wire.

Lucy sighed, watching him flip through her journal.

He would soon know about the pecan pie, too, because she’d finally admitted to it in writing. Oh hell.

Theo made a noncommittal “hmmm” sound and glanced up at her, his little gold earring glittering in the overhead lights of the cardio studio. He held her gaze for a second, his smile soft and thoughtful. “That’s one whopper of a slip, Cunningham.”

“Look. I’m fully aware that pecan pie isn’t on my nutrition plan.”

He said nothing but returned the journal to her bag, then leaned against the treadmill, long and relaxed, and looked at her.

“I know I’m supposed to stay away from refined sugar and white flour.”

He nodded.

Theo’s nonchalance pissed her off. Why didn’t he just come out and yell at her? “And the last time I looked, a thousand calories worth of corn syrup and pie crust fit both those categories rather nicely.”

“Probably does.”

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Any whipped cream?”

“No.”;

“I don’t like whipped cream on mine, either.”

A sudden change in treadmill speed nearly made Lucy trip. She had to push herself to keep up the pace. Her lungs began to pump.

“That’s it?” she cried, breathing hard. “That’s all you have to say about the pie?”

Theo shrugged. “The world didn’t end, right?”

“Of course not.” She tried to scowl at him, but her facial muscles wouldn’t comply. She felt too warm and relaxed this morning, her body loosening and swaying to the steady beat of her feet on the wide rubber belt. She could feel the blood moving through her veins. She was starting to sweat, in earnest. She felt proud and happy and, she realized with a jolt of awareness, a whopping twenty-two pounds lighter.

“We’re in this for the long haul. You made a mistake, but you didn’t let it derail you. That’s the important thing.”

She gave him a grateful smile.

“But if you do it again, I’ll have to kick your ass. And that’s the end of our little pie discussion.” Theo continued scribbling on his clipboard, one ankle casually crossed over the other.

Lucy sighed. She supposed he couldn’t help it, but Theo Redmond throbbed with the good-looking guy vibe, that chromosomal-level confidence that made every female within a mile perk up, suck in her gut, and smile in an effort to catch his eye.

Except for herself, of course. It was understood that women like Lucy were automatically disqualified from playing those games with men like Theo. She’d once been stupid enough to believe she could be the exception to the rule, and look where it landed her. Never again.

She studied Theo, all that lean muscle and golden skin, and realized it was a blessing, really. There could never be any kind of sexual connection between them, and that left her free to be herself with him, the red-faced, sweaty mess she was.

Lucy was huffing now, starting to drip. She looked down at the digital readout on the treadmill console and frowned. “Hey!” she gasped. “I thought… we were… sticking to three-point-two miles an hour… maximum incline…of three!”

“Think again.” Theo didn’t raise his eyes from the clipboard.

“But-”

He looked up, his grin spreading ear to ear. “Don’t want you to get bored, Cunningham.”

She shot him a glare.

“Keep talking to me. This is just a warm-up, and if you can’t talk, then it’s too much.”

“I can talk.” The sun was just starting to peek over the water. It made her smile. This entire experience made her smile-she was awake to see the sun come up. She was moving, sweating, breathing, meeting a challenge. She felt alive.

She turned and saw Theo scrutinizing her. “Thank you, Theo,” she said, knowing she was beaming at him.

“For what? The pie thing? Don’t thank me-just don’t do it again.”

She laughed. “Not that, exactly.”

Theo shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Then what?”

“For being so cool about everything. For being good at what you do. I’m lucky to have you as my trainer.”

Slowly, Theo’s grin began to fade, and Lucy watched him struggle to keep it in place. He shrugged off the compliment. “It’s just my job.”

Right. Lucy turned back to the windows and laughed out loud at herself for being flattered by his attention. Theo was looking at a huge payoff if he could get her to lose all the weight, and at this point it looked like she’d make it way before the year was through. That charm was professional courtesy. That smile was capitalism at work. She bet those cornflower blue eyes shone like that for all his paying clients. Of course it was his job. She was just a job. Nothing more.

Lucy told herself to remember that.