Page 65 of Second Down Fake

A cheery blond with a handlebar mustache and suspenders set a pair of drinks in front of the couple beside us and greeted us.

“Diego Salazar?” he asked incredulously, his eyes scanning the bar as if he was being pranked.

“See, they even know your name!” I slid the drink menu from Diego and read through it quickly.

“I’ll take a Snow Globe Climb.” I batted Diego on the shoulder. “Code! Check the drinks.”

Diego rolled his eyes, an indulgent smile on his lips. I bit back a wave of attraction. “Are you having fun?”

He set his arm on the back of my bar chair, legs splayed, trapping me between him and the wall. “I’m having a blast. This is the perfect post-game date.”

No. I wouldn’t melt at the word. I wouldn’t go gooey at an offhand comment that meant nothing except Diego was having fun. And that’s exactly what I wanted. Nothing more.

Until the indulgent glittering in his eyes disappeared, replaced with something more serious. His jaw tightened and his dark brown eyes raked down my face, settling on my lips.

“This is a pretty perfect date,” I agreed. No caveats. No monikers. No hedging words like fake or contract or NDA.

His Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat as he took a sip of his drink, eyes still affixed on me.

“So.” I leaned closer, pressing my palm onto the smooth bar top to leverage myself close enough to smell the faint scent of sun and turf. “If we continued to have a perfect date, what would happen next?”

Diego’s brown eyes glittered as the edge of his lip jerked up.

“We’d have drinks and something to eat.” His hand fell from the bar stool, fingers whisking my back in soothing circles. “Then I’d take you back to the hotel room.”

“This is sounding awful biographical right now,” I said flatly, even as my stomach flip-flopped at Diego’s bedroom voice.

“It could be.” His fingers twisted into my hair, the gentle pull angling my lips closer to his. “But I wasn’t done. We’d get back to the room and I’d order a bottle of wine or champagne.”

“Arbor Mist?”

“The good stuff?” Diego hitched up his lips, his words a soft murmur. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

I inhaled a shuddering breath, fighting back the urge to kiss him. That’s exactly what he wanted. Hell, it was what I wanted, too. But backing down? Now? His next line would be something pithy and lame, and he’d drop his hand from my hair and leave me breathless but unscathed.

“And then I’d strip you naked and I’d fuck you up against the window so I could prove to everyone that nothing about what I feel for you is fake.”

I blinked, stunned and way more turned on that I had any right being in a crowded art museum, bar or not. We’d been toeing a line of flirtation for weeks, and now Diego had launched straight over that line.

“Here’s your Snow Globe Climb and a Rowdy Mime. Your food should be out in just a minute.” The bartender slid our drinks across the bar, oblivious to the tension between us.

The hungry look in Diego’s eyes fell away in an instant. He turned to the bartender with a smile, his hand dropping from my hair. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

I reeled back in my seat, squeezing my thighs together even though it did nothing for the ache. I swallowed, pushing back the sudden lust that ripped through my body. “Damn it, Diego. You’re good.”

He grinned. “You make it easy.”

His grin faltered as he lifted his drink. I wanted to read into that falter. Instead, I slowed my breathing and steadied my hands before taking my drink. “Well, bad news, this is the entirety of our date. I planned to take you axe-throwing, but I didn’t expect you to spend four hours here.”

“Has it really been four hours?” Diego turned back to the bar entrance. “We still have so much more to see.”

“I thought you didn’t like art.”

“I don’t like exhibitions. This isn’t an exhibition. It’s a mystery.” He wavered his voice with an impish grin on his face. “And you knew I loved mysteries.”

“I knew you loved mystery shows. One mystery show.” Becca had never divulged much about her players, but she’d taken a special interest in Diego when he played college ball and let a few details slip over the years.

“Never mind, I’ve changed my mind.”

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