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the year they’d worked together, they’d formed an easy, friendly relationship. Often, as now, he’d keep an eye on her in between sessions.
    He didn’t move on immediately. After glancing right and left, he said, “I heard Stanley changed his shifts at the hospital so he could work out every day at the same time as you.”
    Stanley’s little crush had never bothered her, but the idea that he’d change shifts to spend more time sweating beside her was a little alarming.
    She narrowed her eyes, letting the weights down easily at her sides. “Reliable source?”
    Tim’s blue eyes crinkled in his tanned face. It was as though he’d been in the sun for so much of his life that his face was permanently bronzed. “Pretty reliable. He told me himself.”
    She began her second set of lifts. “Why would he tell you that?”
    “Because I asked him. That bloke’s got a serious jones for you.” They both glanced over at where Stan was wiping down his machine, which meant he’d soon follow her to the weight area. “He’s a nice guy. You could do worse.”
    “I don’t think his little crush is too serious,” she grunted. “And why is the second set always so much harder than the first?”
    “Because you’re working a tired muscle. Keep it up. You’re doing great.” He adjusted her shoulders once more and then patted her back before moving on.
    But he left her with a crease between her brows. Was Tim telling the truth? She suspected it might be time to casually mention to Stanley that she had a boyfriend. It was time to resurrect Fictitious Fanshaw.
    Even if she had been attracted to Stanley, which she wasn’t, her schedule was too full to take on a man. To conduct any kind of a full relationship, she’d have to give up something else. And it had been a long time since she’d met a man interesting enough to make her consider restructuring her routine. An image of Adam rose in her mind, all tough and rugged and gorgeous. She did not, she reminded herself sternly, have time for a man!
    Nip the Stanley situation in the bud, she decided as she showered.
    Consequently, when Stan emerged from the men’s change room, she was in the foyer conducting a one-sided cell phone conversation. “Okay, darling,” she said, nice and loud so Stanley wouldn’t miss a word. “I’ll pick up the wine. You pick up the steaks.” She laughed softly. “Love you, too, Adam.” She ended the call.
    Adam? The name had popped out while having a pretend conversation with no one. Why, oh why, would she picture Adam when she imagined a lover?
    Stan looked so sad as she waved to him on the way out that she felt rotten.
    Well, she’d taken care of the Stan situation. Now she had to nip her own little crush in the bud. She worked with men all the time. CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, athletes who were household names, celebrities who suffered inexplicable stage fright. Sure, she’d experienced the odd thrill of being one-on-one with the rich, powerful and famous, but she never found herself fantasizing about them. Why should one rugged, uncooperative cop throw her off her stride?
    She shook her head. It was going to have to stop.
    When she arrived at her office, her assistant, Lisa, was already there. “What’s the matter?” Lisa asked. “You look so serious.”
    “I was nipping buds.”
    The younger woman nodded. “Oh.”
    A psych major, Lisa had taken the job of Serena’s personal assistant in order to gain job experience in the field of psychology. At twenty-three, Lisa was full of energy, keen to learn and packed with book knowledge that sometimes came in handy. Serena suspected she’d lose her PA in a couple of years, either so Lisa could pursue an advanced degree or so she could move to a more senior job, but for now the arrangement worked for both of them.
    Her big blue eyes and Cupid’s-bow mouth made her look as innocent as a milkmaid, but Lisa combined street smarts with school smarts. A scholarship student, she’d