Page 12 of Playing With Love

Me.

Tucker.

Not Tim. Not any of the other names I’d assumed.

Me.

She wanted to play, we’d play. But this time, I wasn’t losing.

“I didn’t…I had no idea.” Liza stopped to clear her throat. “Congratulations.”

Total lie. She didn’t mean that any more than I’d meant it when I’d met her douchebag husband and spat that exact word.

I wasn’t ready to let her off the hook and tell her the truth—she would be my wife for this assignment.

“The seminar is in two weeks. Mindset and manifesting. The four pillars of mindfulness and how to use the power of positive thinking to manifest change in your personal and professional life.”

Her nose scrunched.

Time to remind her how well I knew her.

“My thoughts exactly. Positive thinking only goes so far, and without hard work it’s meaningless.”

Her gaze lifted and she frowned.

“How’d…” She stopped, shook off that thought knowing exactly how I knew that’s what she’d been thinking. I knew her, the same as she knew me.

“Still wanna sit there and lie to me there’s no us?”

Seeing as I hadn’t corrected her on my marital status that was the wrong question to ask.

“Are you freaking serious, Tucker Mitchell?”

The way she said my name was full of hurt and disgust.

Knowing what her ex had done to her, I had to come clean.

There was playing dirty then there was being cruel. I was down for the first but I’d never do anything purposeful to hurt the woman sitting in front me.

“Honest to God, woman, you think I’d be sitting here if I was married?”

Her eyes dropped back to my hands.

“You can keep checking, Liza, but a ring’s not gonna magically appear. Though in two weeks when we attend the seminar together we’ll both be wearing bands.”

Her gaze shot to mine.

Confusion morphed into panic.

“I’m not⁠—”

“It’s me or Frank,” I interrupted her. “I spoke a handful of words to the man before I went into the interrogation room. I could be wrong, and the man just sucks at first impressions, but my gut says that’s not the case, and he’s just a plain jackass.”

Liza’s lips pinched together.

This was an active ATF investigation, Triple Canopy was only consulting. She could call her boss, request her partner be sent undercover with her, and more than likely she’d be granted the request. The choice would be hers.

Spend weeks or months pretending to be Frank’s wife or pretend to be mine. Not that I’d allow her to go in alone with Frank. In the five minutes I talked to him he’d explained he was getting coffee to protect his ass while Liza broke protocol—leaving Liza swinging. That wasn’t a partner, that was a turncoat.