“I don’t find it filling. Besides, depending on what you put on a salad, it could have more fat than this cheeseburger. Were you aware of that?”
“I was just making an observation,” he said.
“You seem to make a lot of them.” She took a sip of her milkshake, then added, “Want to know the real secret of keeping your weight at a manageable level? It’s quite simple.”
“Sure.”
“Everything in moderation.”
“Everything in moderation,” he repeated.
She nodded. “You can eat foods high in fat, if you balance them out with fruits and vegetables. And exercise, of course.”
“Everything in moderation,” he murmured again, his gaze on his plate. He looked up. “Does that go for your love life, too?”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “Sex life, you mean.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What you’re really asking about is my sex life.”
Here they were again: due east, when he’d thought they were headed west. He’d expected a typical Ruby comment along the lines of moderation having nothing to do with her love life. Instead she’d turned the tables on him.
Before he could frame an answer to her question, she asked him an even harder one. “Why are you so interested in my sex life?”
Because I want to be a part of it. Because I’m attracted to you, and I’m disappointed you’re not the woman I need you to be in order to allow you to become a part of it.
“I’ve never met another woman quite like you.” That, at least, was the truth. “I guess I’m just trying to understand you. Since you admittedly use sex to get power, I thought it was a fair question.”
To his relief she looked pleased, rather than offended. Finally he’d said something right.
“It might be a fair question,” she replied, “but I hope you’ll understand if I decline to answer.”
“Of course.”
“Are you married?” she asked.
Antonio nearly choked on his iced tea. “You’re asking me that now? After the way you came on to me Saturday?”
“So far as I remember, we never did establish your marital status,” she replied. “Besides, I told you I’m an incorrigible flirt. Marital status isn’t the first thought that enters my mind when I meet an attractive man.”
He had no business being so pleased that she thought he was attractive. “Since you’re already involved with someone, why should you care?”
“I’m just trying to figure you out…like you are with me. So,” she asked again, “are you?”
He wondered what she would do if he told her the truth. That, to the endless frustration of his family, the thought of marriage always left him feeling claustrophobic. His life was crowded enough as it was. While the relatives of other undercover cops worried incessantly over their safety, his five brothers and his sister were terrified he’d never settle down. In this case, at least, Antonio’s truth was also Michael’s truth.
“Do I look like I’m married?”
Her smile grew broader. “Trust me. I know a lot of married men who neither look nor act married.”
He’d just bet she did. “I see.”
“I’ll try one more time. Are you married, Michael?”
He was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself. It was about time he remembered it and acted accordingly.
“Hardly,” he said, injecting as much disdain as he could into the word.
She tilted her head and eyed him carefully. “You got something against marriage?”
He spread his arms in a devil-may-care manner. “Nothing, except it would cramp my style.”
“What is your style? Love ’em and leave ’em?”
“Some people have said that.”
“Interesting,” Ruby commented.
“What?”
“Obviously you see nothing wrong in being a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy, but you definitely find something wrong with my being an incorrigible flirt. Does anyone but me see a double standard at work here?”
She had a point, Antonio conceded. However, he could hardly tell her that he was the one who objected to her moral code, not Michael. Nor could he tell her that the only reason she knew of his disapproval was because she had managed to pull him out of character at least a thousand times since they met.
“The question is,” he heard her say, “why are you a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy?”
He suddenly found himself feeling wary, although he couldn’t identify the source of his reluctance. It was probably nothing more than his desire to remain in character and not blow it by saying something stupid. The way he had earlier.
He was Michael Corsi, he reminded himself yet again. He had to handle this question the way Michael would.
“Does there have to be a reason?”
“There’s always a reason,” Ruby stated. “In your case, my guess is that you have commitment issues.”
He felt his eyebrows climb. “Commitment issues?”
She nodded. “You were probably burned by love in the past, and now you don’t want to give your heart to any woman. You don’t want to risk the pain. Either that or you hate women. But something tells me that isn’t the case.”
Relief filled him, and his wariness fled. She was so far from both the cover story he’d created for Michael and the truth of his own life he almost laughed out loud.
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I haven’t been burned by love. And I don’t hate women. I just happen to like things the way they are. Variety is the spice of life, you know.”
In truth, he had never been in love. As a youth, he’d been too busy sowing his wild oats to commit to one relationship. As an adult, the demands of working undercover prevented him from being with a woman long enough to fall in love. Of course, he couldn’t tell Ruby that.
“Since we’re analyzing each other’s supposed issues,” he said, “maybe you’ll answer the question I asked you on Saturday. Why are you an incorrigible flirt?”
“Are you really interested? Or are you trying to make me squirm, the way you were then?”
He bit back a smile. Leave it to Ruby not to let that one go by unchallenged. “I’m really
