her when they disembarked. “Iris is taking a car from the airport and meeting us here. We probably have enough time to grab a sandwich if you’re hungry? There’s a...” He’d been checking his phone as he spoke and she watched his brow knit with concern. “Uh-oh. Well. Maybe dessert, too, it looks like. Her flight was canceled.”
“Oh, no.”
“Mechanical problems. They put her on a different plane, but she’s going to be delayed a bit. I’m sorry.”
“You should be more than sorry if you did something to that plane just to hang out with a girl for a few hours,” she said drily.
She’d meant it as a joke, but for a half a second he looked alarmed by the thought. Then a slow smile spread across his face. Hazel eyes narrowed and swept slowly over her, leaving a trail of heat across her skin and a pleasant tightness in her midsection.
“That’s funny,” he said in a quiet voice, those eyes pinned on hers now.
Her throat went dry. “I just meant that you don’t need to apologize for your sister’s flight delay,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else. Why was the back of her neck tingling?
“But it’s Friday, and you probably have plans. Now we’re not going to get back until late.”
“No plans. Unless you consider eating pizza and watching the Mariners game plans?”
Was it her imagination or did he look pleased by that answer? Considerate of him to be worried about ruining her Friday night. She had to concede that Flynn was right; Tag did seem like a nice guy.
“In fact, I would consider those plans. Very fine plans indeed. You wanna grab a bite and watch the game while we wait?”
She grinned. “Uh, yeah.”
They walked to a nearby sports bar. Because it was early for dinner and late for lunchtime, the bar was quiet inside with only a few tables filled. Fellow Mariner fans were easy to spot in their blue-green and gray caps and shirts.
A sign indicated that they could seat themselves, so they grabbed a booth with a good view of one of the oversize television screens. A woman wearing a snug Mariners T-shirt and a tight denim miniskirt hustled over from the bar. She was attractive with thick, strategically applied makeup and blond hair up in a complicated twist. Her name tag said Rita.
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving Tag an apologetic smile before pinning a gentle scowl on Ally. “But this side of the restaurant is for customers twenty-one and older only.”
Tag blew out an exaggerated huff and reached for his wallet. “Will this madness never end? I’m getting so tired of it. I’m going to be twenty-three next month, or is it twenty-four? Hold on, let me check.”
Ally laughed and dug her wallet out of her bag. She handed her driver’s license over to the waitress. Rita was giggling and seemed far more interested in examining Tag than Ally’s ID.
“Sure you are. Come on...” Cupping her fingers, she waggled them in a come-hither gesture. “Hand it over. I can spot a fake ID from a mile away. Sneaking into bars is going to get you into big, big trouble, Mister...?”
“James. Tag James,” he supplied.
“Tag, huh?” Reaching out, she gave his shoulder a playful nudge. “You’re it.”
Wait... What? Was this woman hitting on him while Ally was sitting right here?
Rita thrust her ID in Ally’s general direction with a flat “Thanks, hon.” Eager blue eyes remained fastened on Tag. “Is this little cutie your daughter?”
Ally slid a hand across the table, threaded her fingers through Tag’s and pitched her voice to sweet. “Wife, actually. Thank you, Rita, for your meticulous and painstaking commitment to the law. You’re a credit to your profession.”
“Oh...” Rita drawled, her pale cheeks turning nearly as pink as her lip gloss. “Um...you’re welcome. Are you guys ready to order?”
They both asked for the special, the Mariner Plate, which consisted of deep-fried fish, clams, and shrimp with spicy slaw and french fries.
Ally turned her head and pretended to watch the game while Rita hurried off toward the kitchen. She hadn’t thought this through, because now her skin was burning at every contact point where it touched his, but she didn’t want to remove her hand in case Rita was watching. Tag’s gaze was intent on her, no doubt wondering how many shades of psycho she was.
It took all of her willpower not to squirm. Was he upset? She should probably apologize for thwarting Rita’s romantic ploy. But then the sound of his low, deep chuckle seeped into her, heating her from the inside out. She really liked his laugh.
He gave her hand a little squeeze. Her eyes felt heavy as she heaved them up to meet his. A rush of heat blasted through her at the intensity she saw there. She couldn’t blame Rita. No doubt he had women hitting on him constantly. She already knew he did. As Rankins’s most eligible bachelor, the title all but guaranteed it.
His brows shifted up along with the corners of his mouth. Eyes shining, green hues dominating, he repeated the word, “Wife?”
Subtly, she tried to extricate her fingers, but he held firm. “Stop that,” he said, “I’m holding my wife’s hand.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I do if you want to pull this off. Rita is over there telling her friends right now about the cradle robber she’s serving at table seven.”
Ally snickered and offered up a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry if I got in the way of something there. But the way she looked at me and then just dismissed me with the ‘hon’ and the ‘cutie’ and then hitting on you right in front of me? It was rude. Now you see what I was talking about earlier? I’ll tell her the truth if you want. I’ll even ask her out for you?”
“I’m not interested in her,” he said in that warm gravelly tone that melted into her like honey on toast. She managed a weak smile and tried not to think about why that statement pleased her.
“And, I assure you, I can find my own dates. But you do realize that you are probably young enough to be my daughter?”
She knew he was teasing, but for some reason, she needed to make sure he understood. “Technically, I suppose, yes. But I’m also old enough to be a paramedic, an Army veteran and the hospital liaison—as well as your wife.”
Like she’d hit a dimmer switch, his expression faded to serious. “Ah,” he said, brushing his free hand across his jaw. “Are you sure this isn’t still about our first encounter?”
Was it? She didn’t know. The way his thumb was moving over her hand made it difficult to think. She did know that she wished she hadn’t turned the look in his green-brown eyes from lazy fun to sharp and solemn. Although they probably should discuss the subject further, as they’d agreed. Face-to-face. She just wished his face, his hand, his voice and the rest of him wasn’t so...unsettling.
“I don’t know. You made that crack about the clay in the helicopter, but you never scheduled a meeting with Flynn. Are you going to give me grief going forward?”
He seemed to be thinking it over. “Oversight on my part about the meeting. My office assistant is on leave, and things have been a little scattered. Let’s meet right now.”
With a wink, he lifted her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles before letting it go. Ally’s breath froze in her lungs because his lips seared her skin and her heart was beating this hard, rhythmic thud in her chest. Then he reached across the table to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and her pulse took off like a bottle rocket anxious for the Fourth of July. Husband-like gestures, she reminded herself; he was only playing a part. And for her sake, no less.
He took a sip of his water. When he spoke, his voice sounded low and a little husky, and she had to focus on the meaning of his