God, he wanted it to happen, though.
He was a sick bastard to be thinking that while sitting here, the questions he had for her on a teleprompter behind her head. He wanted Ruby to have her chance at redemption, but he also wanted his ratings and the anchor spot. Thinking about how her hamstrings curved into the soft divot on the inside of her hip would only encourage him to play nice—and playing nice wasn’t an option today.
It had been Dexter’s idea to pull the old furniture out of storage—for a better reaction, he’d said. He didn’t understand that Ruby had been living in and amongst the material evidence of her failures for five years and the chair was probably nothing to the trophy room he imagined had to exist somewhere in the Heart house.
Or maybe not. Maybe the Hearts had decided that if the room didn’t display a gold medal, then it didn’t need to exist. Much like Micah’s grandmother. She’d decided that reminders of his former career would only cause him pain and so, she told him proudly one day in the rehab hospital, she’d packed up all of his trophies and awards and put them in the attic. To make his life more comfortable, she’d said. She’d also offered to donate them to Texas A&M or the College Football Hall of Fame. Because he wouldn’t have children to leave them to, she’d said.
Since Grandmama had done all the packing, his father had easily collected everything, and the best stuff was now on display in Micah’s apartment.
Loud talking by an electrician focused Micah’s attention back to the woman sitting across from him. She noticed and lifted her chin slightly, her neck long and thin. Vulnerable. After one of her runs he could kiss her right under her chin and feel her racing pulse on his lips.
Stupid. Admiring her poise was okay; desiring her was the first roll on a short pier that ended with him diving into conflict of interest and no promotion. If they got the green light for Ruby to be the star of the series, he would have to figure out how to push his desire deep down into his body, to his toes, where he wouldn’t feel it.
She started when he asked his first question, revealing a fear she’d managed to keep hidden. But when she looked at him—and the camera behind his head—dead-on, her voice was even and strong.
This wasn’t an interview where they would joke and laugh and she would talk about the glory of the game, so his second question was, “Tell me about the doping. What led you to do it?”
Her eyes looked tired, and he wondered how much energy she was expending to keep herself from flinching. “I wanted to win. I wanted to make my country proud. I wanted to make my parents proud. A silver medal wasn’t good enough.” She closed her eyes, and the American public watching would close theirs. “I’m not proud of the decision. It was wrong and I wish I hadn’t made it.”
“Was it your idea?”
Her fingers pulsed on her legs. “It doesn’t matter whose idea it was. It was my body and I should have said no.”
The interview wasn’t going the way Micah had expected. He knew it had been her coach’s idea. He knew the people closest to her had told her that doping wasn’t a big deal, and yet on an interview that would be broadcast on SportsDaily twice tonight and again in the morning, she was putting the burden solely on her shoulders.
He ignored the next question on the teleprompter. “That answer doesn’t square with the fact that your coach went to prison.”
“He shouldn’t have offered, but it was still my body. And I’m sorry. To everyone.”
“Your all-inclusive ban on competition was up this year.”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell the various governing bodies to get your ban reduced?”
“I’m not legally allowed to say.”
“Were there other runners that you knew of involved in blood doping?”
“I signed a nondisclosure agreement as part of my plea. All I can say is that I’m sorry for what I did and the hurt I caused. I’m sorry for shaming my sport.”
Suddenly the reasoning behind her clothing made since. She wasn’t going for nun or even sexy librarian. Ruby was trying to look nonthreatening. Harmless. Not worth anyone’s attention. Her answers would give the talking heads little to chew over. How much time can you spend analyzing someone who says, “I was wrong and I’m sorry,” and doesn’t offer up any excuses?
He had to try a different tact before the audience got bored. “You’re running again.”
Pleasure brightened her skin. The audience finally got a reaction. “I am. And it’s the most glorious thing in the world.”
“You’ve run two ultra races, and there are more in the future.”
“Yes.” Energy poured out of her, changing her from meek to a woman people would want to get behind. To root for, if only to be a part of what changed her from rigid to strong.
“Planning on winning any?”
“Right now I’m grateful to be among athletes again.” A bullshit answer, the kind every athlete would give. But it didn’t matter. Anyone watching her on-screen would be able to see that, yes, Ruby Heart had her eye on a first-place finish. And whether or not they rooted for her or against her, she had their attention now.
“There are plenty of people who say you should have been banned from all competition for life. They won’t like that you’re running again.”
She stiffened, though whether she was pissed at herself or at her naysayers wasn’t clear from her expression. Though the fight in her eyes should concern whoever her anger was directed at, even if it was directed inward. “What I did was wrong, but I’ve served the punishment handed down to me. I love to run. If people who come out to watch an ultra don’t want to see me, they can turn their backs as I run past.”
Everyone working in the studio blinked in unison. Ruby Heart had given the quote of the interview, and probably the quote of the week.
The rest of the interview finished uneventfully. Whether it would be a success or not depended on whether people watched the interview or listened to it while busying about the kitchen.
He wanted to say goodbye to Ruby, arrange a time for them to talk about the series, see the flush of excitement on her skin up close. But by the time someone removed his mic, she was gone.
Ruby Heart, back to running.
* * *
RUBY WAS STANDING in the lobby, scrolling through Twitter comments about the interview that would be aired tonight when Micah caught her. She’d been prepared for the comments. Had known they were coming. And still the vitriol made every breath she took taste like bile. “Thanks a lot, sis,” she muttered. Roxanne had sent her the link.
“Bad news?” he asked, sincerity strong across his face. No, sincerity implied something more tender. He was honestly asking and honest was all she’d asked for.
“Why’d you ask questions you knew I wouldn’t be able to answer?”
“So people could see that they’d been asked.”
“And that I didn’t answer.” Once it was posted online, the comments section of the interview would fill up with conspiracies, and she couldn’t offer the truth as an alternative.
“I had to ask, Ruby. You know that.” He looked disappointed in her hurt, but he’d probably never been stupid enough to read the comments. And in truth she wasn’t hurt, just nervous about what was to come. “What’s wrong?” he asked again. He’d never allow her to hide again, from herself or anyone else.
She bit her lip. “Comments about tonight’s interview are all over Twitter.”
“We want people to tune in. What did you expect?”
“Nothing. I guess I’d enjoyed the break.”
“We want online discussion.” Micah had promised to be honest with her. He’d also promised to rehabilitate her image. She couldn’t crawl onto his lap and rest her head on his shoulder; the interview would have to do.
“Sure,” she lied.
“Will y
ou watch the interview tonight?”
She scowled. “I’ll have to go to my cousin’s because I don’t have cable yet. And that’s another frustration. I’ve filled out all the stuff online and nothing happens. When I call customer service, they tell me to go online.” Besides the joy of having Dotty, her first week living on her own wasn’t going smoothly. She couldn’t figure out how to get cable, and she’d screwed something up when opening a bank account at a new bank—one separate from her parents—which had led to an hour-long phone call trying to fix it. To remind herself that she was good at something, she’d taken Dotty for a long run.
“Come to my apartment and watch it. I’m not working tonight.”
“Won’t that be weird?” It would be more intimate than dinner in a hotel room because she’d be in his apartment, surrounded by his things and the smell of him. She blinked before desire overtook her.
“No, it’ll be fine. I’ll order a pizza.”
She should say no. “Okay.”
He gave her basic directions, then said goodbye and headed back toward the elevators and his work. His work. She couldn’t forget that. Going over to a man’s house to watch television and have pizza may seem normal, but, like everyone else in this world, Micah had an agenda.
* * *
RUBY STOOD OUTSIDE Micah’s door, telling herself to knock. He knew she was here—he’d buzzed her up. She should have just watched the interview at Haley’s house. Then Ruby wouldn’t have had to figure out what to wear, before eventually settling on jeans and a peasant blouse.
Because this wasn’t a date. This was a trade. Him helping her and her letting him into all aspects of her life. Fading away into the background again was no longer an option, as scary as that sounded. Because while she hadn’t been losing for the past five years, she hadn’t been winning, either.
Micah opened the door and she jumped. “Coming in?” he asked with a smile on his face that sent a shiver down her spine. He had a nick on his neck from shaving, above the collar of his dark red check button-down. If she put her finger on the cut, she’d be able to feel his pulse. She put her hands in her pockets before she gave in to the urge.
She wanted the chance at normal, which a relationship with Micah could never be. They had too much history. But here she was at his apartment door. Her mascara and lip gloss shouldn’t go to waste, so she straightened her shoulders and stepped through.
His apartment was spacious and open, with a large comfortable-looking couch, man-size recliner and a big TV. The living room smelled like pepperoni pizza and Micah. Spicy. Definitely bad for her.
“Do you want something to drink? I’ve got beer. Or water. I can make coffee, too.”
“Beer, please.”
“Help yourself to pizza. I figured we’d eat on the couch and watch the interview.”
Ruby did as she was told, anticipation and apprehension mixing deep in the pit of her stomach. But when her fingers brushed his as she took the beer he offered, she didn’t run away. Instead, she leaned back, deeper into the couch. She was here and she was going to do this.
The cushions shifted when Micah joined her. His legs had all the energy of an empty sock as they hung off the side. Despite the cool of the air-conditioning, his feet were bare. “My feet don’t get cold,” he said, catching her staring.
“I guess they wouldn’t.”
“They don’t get hot either, though I have to be careful where I’m barefoot because I wouldn’t feel a burn.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” He was reaching over to the end table for the remote when he asked the question, all casual, but there was nothing casual about his voice.
“I don’t know.”
“Then stop apologizing. It doesn’t suit you.”
He clicked on the television, and there she was in the promo material. “I apologize in the interview.”
“I know. And you needed to, but it didn’t suit you any better there, either.”
She chewed her pizza and kept her eyes on the SportsDaily anchors introducing various segments and continuing to promise the viewing audience that an exclusive interview with Ruby Heart was coming up, but she was too distracted by Micah’s nearness to pay much attention. She’d sat on the middle cushion of the couch, too close to him, and yet she couldn’t scoot to the other side without being obvious. Worse, she didn’t want to.
And Micah, because he was Micah and had always been able to see deep inside of her, seemed to know it. Though somewhere over the course of the dinner they’d spent in her hotel room, his insight had stopped bothering her. At least someone could see beyond the doping and the fear to the real Ruby Heart.
“You’re up next,” Micah said. SportsDaily was back from a commercial break and the anchor was introducing the interview.
She closed her eyes.
“I thought you were here to watch.”
She opened her eyes. Now Micah was in front of her and beside her and taking over her mind. She needed to run.
“You’re not really watching, Ruby.”
“My eyes are open.”
“Chicken.”
She stiffened. Setting her plate of half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, Ruby crossed her legs under her and leaned forward. She was done with being a chicken.
When the entire painful interview was over, she uncrossed her legs, picked up her plate and leaned back into the cushions. “What did you think?”
“That it’s enough to convince Dexter that you are the new star of NSN’s ultra series. What do you think?” His face was serious, the dimples barely visible on his cheeks as his eyes skimmed over her. Even though they didn’t travel farther down than her neck, she felt undressed. Leaning over to kiss him felt as natural as answering.
She leaned back into the cushions. “Next time I’m on TV, I’m going to dress less like a mouse.” More powerful, less demure.
His dimples deepened with his laugh. “Who used to pick out your interview clothes? Because those had quite the effect.”
“I’m not interested in looking like a sexpot anymore.”
His blue-gray eyes flared with an interest her body recognized, even if her mind didn’t fully understand, though all he said was, “There is a middle ground.”
Yeah, he didn’t want to be attracted to her any more than she wanted to be attracted to him. “I’ll ask my cousin for advice next time. If you really think this series is going to happen.”
“Trust me,” he said. “This will be good for you.”
“Good for you,” she corrected.
“Not everyone’s best interest isn’t your worst interest.”
She shrugged. “Maybe, but apparently I’m not very good at sorting it out.”
“I expected Ruby Heart to have more confidence.”
“Ha. Confidence in what?”
“Running, at least.”
“Sure. I can still kick your ass at running.”
He quirked his lips, but she didn’t apologize; he’d told her not to. “Not in my marathon chair.”
She bit her tongue before she threw back, “You’re on,” because he was right. He would kick her ass.
“While you’re here, why don’t I help you get signed up for cable.”
“What I really need is a gym.”
“Come with me to my gym.” Temptation purred through his voice and his eyes promised the world.
“Okay.” She couldn’t crawl into his lap, but she could go to his gym. “When?”
“I’ll pick you up on Thursday.”
“It’s a date,” she said, then bit her bottom lip before she could take it back.
“It’s okay, Ruby,” he said. “I won’t hold you to it.”
Which was how she knew his inviting eyes and that velvet v
oice were part of the lie.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RUBY STOOD OUTSIDE her house, shifting her bag from her left shoulder to her right shoulder and back again. Fluffy white clouds floated above in the bright blue sky. The pleasant weather would soon be hot, and she would need to take even more care with her long runs, especially with Dotty. From inside the house, her dog barked, angry at being left behind.
Somehow the intrusion of Dotty’s needs into her training schedule didn’t seem like a burden. It would be easier to plan her training schedule if she didn’t have to worry about cutting back her training for her dog, but caring for Dotty was a nice experience. Ruby got as much pleasure out of it as Dotty did.
She pulled her cell phone out of her bag and looked at the time. Micah was ten minutes late. Just as she was about to give up on him and head inside, a car coming down the street slowed in front of her house. Micah rolled down his window, and her excuse to chicken out disappeared along with the glass.
“Coming or not?” She snorted at his tone, as if he hadn’t been the late one.
“Coming,” she said, walking toward the car with a stride defiant enough to trick herself into believing she wasn’t nervous. She opened the back door, tossed her gym bag next to his chair, then slid into the passenger seat next to Micah.
“Ready?” he asked.
Ruby took a deep breath, which came out of her mouth in waves as she moved her head up and down in something she hoped he would mistake for a nod. But she answered honestly. “This is the first time I’ve worked out in a gym with other people since college.”
And then she had been the star, not the pariah. Don’t think that. A new life. A new you and people will either get it or they won’t. And if they don’t, don’t let ’em hold you back.
“Think of how much fun it will be,” he said, his dimples so deep in his cheeks that she believed him.
“House looks nice,” Micah said as he pulled out into the road.
Winning Ruby Heart Page 10
