“And why would you think this has something to do with Ruby?”

“Now that’s an appropriate name,” Finn said, chuckling. “And I think it because Bennett hasn’t changed her schedule in all the time we’ve known her, yet a shapely squeeze shows up at Rapture, and suddenly boss lady ain’t got no time for us. Doesn’t take a pencil to connect those dots. Nope, that’s got bumping peaches written all over it.”

“You know, sometimes you are really disgusting.”

“Yeah, but it adds to my charm,” Finn said, waggling his eyebrows.

Lisa scowled. “Take your feet off the goddamned desk, Finn. This is a business, not a dorm.”

“Whoa,” Finn said, placing his feet back on the floor. “What the hell’s wrong with you? We’re closed. Nobody’s here.”

“Then why are you here? Why aren’t you out prowling the bars for your next conquest? Lord knows that’s always been your guiding force.”

Finn’s expression flattened. “That’s uncalled for. You’re not the only one with some degrees tucked under their belt, Lisa. I finished top in my class, just like you and Gunnar. I know how to run a business and the difference between fine art and crap. If I didn’t, Bennett wouldn’t send me all over the world buying it, now would she?” Finn said, flopping one arm over the other across his chest. “And I’m sorry if your life isn’t all roses and chocolates right now, but don’t take it out on me.”

All the air in Lisa’s lungs came out in a whoosh, and she dropped into a chair. “I’m sorry. You’re right. What I said was wrong.”

“Well, not all of it,” Finn said, his eyes twinkling. “I do like me some booty.”

“Seriously?” Lisa said before breaking out in giggles. “You’re a fuck nut.”

Finn beamed. “And ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“Not that you’d admit it if there were, you goof,” Lisa said with a laugh. “So, what are you doing here tonight?”

“I’m waiting for the Hong Kong auction to start. There’s a John Currin oil Bennett has her eyes on.”

“When’s it come up?”

Finn looked at his watch. “Not for a couple of hours,” he said, tapping his fingers on some magazines. “But I brought along some entertainment to keep me occupied.”

“Tell me that’s not porn,” Lisa said, glancing at the magazines on the desk.

“Okay, it’s not porn.”

“Finn, the one on top is Busty Babes from Brooklyn.”

“Oh, come on, Lisa. You know better than to judge a book by its cover.”

“So you’re saying you read them for the articles?” Lisa said, reaching over to shuffle through the stack. “And I suppose Boobs and Buns and Kinky Kittens have Pulitzer Prize-winning editorial departments, too?”