She laughed again. A good sign.
"See? It's easier to say yes." He shifted the phone to his other hand. "Go out with me, Olivia. Just once. I'm sorry about what happened with Desiree. If I'd had any idea that Gabriel didn't warn you what he planned--"
"That's not it."
"No?"
"I'm having dinner tonight with my, um, former fiance."
"James Morgan?"
"Uh, yes."
She seemed surprised he knew her ex's name. He didn't tell her that he'd come home after their first meeting and looked up everything he could find on Olivia Taylor-Jones. Prep work. Like being interested in a business and learning everything you could before initiating a takeover. Which was an analogy no woman would appreciate, and he'd never make it. But he wanted to get to know her better, and when Ricky went after something, he used every tool at his disposal. He'd learned that from Gabriel, a lesson taught by example from the moment Gabriel decided he wanted to be the Saints' lawyer.
As for James Morgan, he hadn't needed to research the man. Ricky was an MBA student who took his studies seriously. He knew exactly who Morgan was, and while he was damned sure he wouldn't want to compete with him corporately, he suspected he had a decent shot here.
"So you're having dinner with James tonight. Have lunch with me tomorrow."
"I can't. Dinner with James means--"
"You're testing the waters for a reunion. Great. But as long as he's still your former fiance, you're free to see me. Comparison shop."
A sputtered laugh.
"One date, Olivia."
"I really can't. I'm sorry."
He smiled in spite of the refusal. The honest regret in her voice told him he wasn't out of the running yet. She just needed a softer sell.
"A drink, then," he said. "Not a date."
"I don't think--"
"I'll settle for coffee."
"You really don't give up."
"Nope. I just downgrade the offer until I get buy-in. Have coffee with me. Absolutely no strings attached. I won't even angle for a date." When she hesitated, he smiled. "Coffee it is, then. Sunday afternoon--"
"I'm working." A pause. "Can we make it Monday or Tuesday? Anytime before three?"
"Tuesday's my heavy school day, so let's go for Monday."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I returned to my apartment after my Saturday shift, TC wasn't there. Usually, he was in the towel-lined cardboard box I'd assigned him as a bed. The only time he hadn't been was when I'd found him hiding under my bed, and I suspected someone had broken in.
I searched the apartment, which took about three minutes. Then I searched again. I even pulled out the can of cat treats. Yes, I'd bought him treats. Give it another month and I'd be collecting his shed whiskers and claws like a proud momma preserving her baby's first haircut and lost teeth.
I shook the treats. I called his name--well, his acronym. Then I conducted a calm and measured search of the apartment. Oh hell, who am I kidding? I tore about, checking every cat-sized space frantically, certain he'd suffered some horrible ailment that prevented him from answering my calls, even for fake-tuna treats.
There were a very limited number of places he could hide in those few hundred square feet, and I checked them all three times. I even looked in the fridge and stove. Hey, I'd been distracted lately; he could have hopped in while I wasn't paying attention.
Once I was sure he wasn't in the apartment, I hurried out to the front stoop, where Grace was on troll duty.
"Have you seen my cat?" I asked.