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“You always this intense before noon?” I ask lightly.

“Yes.”

“I was hoping that was temporary.”

“Nope.”

I try to step sideways.

His hand catches my waist immediately.

Firm.

Possessive.

Completely unfair to my concentration.

“You’re dodging,” he says.

“You’re hovering.”

“Answer the question.”

I force myself to meet his gaze evenly. “I’m working.”

“On what?”

“Corruption.”

His brow lifts slightly. “That narrows it down.”

I almost smile despite myself.

Almost.

Then his expression sharpens further.

“You found something.”

Not a question.

Damn it.

I should lie.

Instead, “Maybe.”

Rhett goes very still.

That’s never a good sign.

“What kind of something?”

“The kind I’m handling.”

“No.”

The answer comes immediate and absolute.