“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.