Their gazes collided with a clash he felt as much as the chemistry that zapped between them. Either she was agreatteam player…or what he just felt was real.
Opal’s eyelids dipped downward, once—her only tell that she might have felt it too—and she slipped back into her role. “Mike? Are you getting the seared pork chops?”
He put a tremor into his hand as he pushed the menu away. “No. I’ll have the burger. Double bacon. Fries. And…” He purposely shot a look at the bar.
“Kelly” read the cue and intervened. “He’ll have a soda.”
He blew a breath through his nose with the kind of irritation a husband would feel when he wanted a beer but his wife disapproved.
The server left with their orders, and Sinner leaned back in his chair, letting his fingers tap a little off-beat to the song.
“Good call with the burger and fries.” Opal glanced at the people at the neighboring table.
“Can’t look like I eat right.”
“Do you?” she asked.
“Are we getting to know each other now?”
She issued a sigh as if she had been suffering far too long playing roles just like this one. “Maybe weshouldknow a few things.”
Pitching his voice low, he pretended he was whispering something private to his wife. “What kind of food do you like?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and fidgeted like he was jonesing for his next fix.
Opal blinked at him and whispered back, “Didn’t you hear me? I ordered a chicken and a baked potato.”
“I was too busy noticing your smile.”
Her lips popped open on a breath of surprise. Just as fast, she snapped her mouth shut. “I guess Blackout never received sexual harassment training.”
He waved a hand, making sure to put an extra jerk into it for show. “Good luck pressing charges against a dead man.”
He waited for the ripple of irritation but she just rolled her eyes toward the stained ceiling.
Their drinks arrived, and he reached for his pocket where he’d stuffed a few decoy pills.
Her eyes flicked to his hand, and she reached across the table and stopped him from getting the pills. Just a light touch—part of the role she played and enough to get the point across toanyone watching—but he felt it throughout his whole body, not just a jolt up his arm like before.
“You know you need to eat first,” she said in a whisper loud enough for anyone in a ten-foot radius to hear.
He made his knee bounce beneath the table to appear agitated but leaned forward, pitching his voice low. “Since we’re getting to know each other…you ever pretend you were an addict’s wife before?”
She snorted. “These aren’t exactly first-date questions.”
“Can we really call this a first date if we’ve been married three years?”
She pursed her lips around the straw and sipped her lemonade. Such a small action shouldn’t make it so difficult to look away.
“Ahem.”
She’d caught him staring. Damn, those lips were going to get him in trouble.
“The answer is no—I’ve never been anyone’s wife before.”
“So I’m your first.” He took a gulp of his soda.
“Sinclair—”
“Mike,” he corrected.
