““For all intents and purposes, we’ll pretend this is a date. We’re going out to dinner and I suppose the place has a dance floor.” He gestured to the bare bit of carpet next to the front door, where she already stood. “Will we have fake names too?” It was hard not to be amused when her eyes danced with the reflection of the candlelight. Oh, hell, they might as well have fun with it. It might help. “Sure, you can be Gwenivere and I can be—”“Harry.” He scrunched an eye at her. “Why do I have to be a Harry?” The brat feigned an innocent look. “I happen to like the name Harry.” “Fine, your name is Belulah.” She gaped at him. “That sounds like a cow!” “Good. Now, Belulah, shall we?””
