Marriage of Revenge. Sheri WhiteFeather

thought, her brain horribly befuddled. My name is Talia.

      He led her through the casino and into a seafood restaurant on the lobby floor, where he gave the hostess their name and they waited to be seated.

      “You’re not playing fair,” she said.

      “Because I’m good at what I do?”

      “Yes.” The pain of pretending to be his wife hit her like a fist. She even clenched her stomach to sustain the impact. “I shouldn’t have taken this trip with you.”

      “It’s too late now.” He rubbed his thumb over the showy diamond she wore, a wedding ring that didn’t really belong to her.

      She hated that he was staying in character, not missing a beat. Yet he’d managed to speak between the lines, too. To say what he meant.

      Everything except the I love you part.

      The hostess called their phony last name, and they were escorted to a dimly lit corner. Aaron sat beside her in the cozy booth, and she looked into the greenish-gold color of his eyes, the contact lenses that helped change his appearance.

      He studied the changes in her, as well, touching the ends of her hair, treating her wig as though it were real.

      “I used to date a blonde who looked a lot like you,” he said.

      “Then maybe you should have married her.”

      “She wasn’t lucky for me.”

      “Neither am I.”

      He reached down the front of her dress and removed the hundred-dollar chip. “Sure you are.”

      “It was a fluke.” Her pulse picked up speed. “I’m not going to blow on the dice again.”

      He smiled, grazing her with the metal token. “Then what are you going to blow?”

      “My temper,” she told him, wishing he wasn’t so appealing. The candlelight he’d promised was flickering across his skin.

      He continued to smile, taking the position of power. “Redheads are supposed to be fiery.”

      “And blondes are dumb?”

      “Not the blonde I knew. She was as sharp as a machete.”

      “Did she cut you?” she asked, hoping he would say yes.

      His smile fell. “Yeah, she sliced me open. Right here.” He indicated his heart. “Where it hurts.”

      Good for her, she thought. For me.

      Their waitress arrived to take their orders, but they’d forgotten to look at their menus.

      “Will you give us a minute?” Aaron asked. His hand was still covering his heart. “We got a little lost. In each other,” he added, making Talia’s pulse pick up speed again.

      Now she knew why Tina was supposed to love him.

      Their server left, and by the time she returned, Aaron was ready for another whiskey sour. Talia decided to have one, too. To relive the flavor of his kiss. For Tina.

      For the woman who would be threatening to divorce him.

      They ordered the same meal, choosing the special, a seafood combination that included poached salmon and baked oysters. When their platters arrived, she adjusted the linen napkin on her lap.

      He caught her gaze, looking at her over the rim of his glass. “Do you think they’re really an aphrodisiac?”

      She knew he meant the oysters. “No.” And now she wished she’d ordered something else. She didn’t want to talk about foods that made people sexual.

      “Too bad.” He finished his drink. “Of course you could be wrong.”

      “I’m not.”

      “You won’t know until after you eat them.”

      “I’ve eaten them before.”

      “Not while you’ve been sitting so close to me.”

      He brushed her arm, then reached for his fork, leaving her staring at the oysters on her plate. She wasn’t about to put them in her mouth.

      “Afraid?” he asked.

      Terrified, she thought.

      And it only got worse when dinner ended and they went upstairs to their room, where he locked the door.

      And waited for her to get ready for bed.

      Aaron watched Talia rifle through her suitcase.

      She glanced up at him and frowned. “Quit looking at me like that.”

      “Like what?”

      “Like you’re going to get lucky.”

      “I just want to see what you’re going to wear to bed.” He knew he was making her nervous, and he was enjoying the show.

      She squinted at him. “I brought a flannel nightgown.”

      “Yeah, right. A femme fatale in flannel.” He was already hard, thinking about sleeping next to her. She grabbed a silky garment from her suitcase, and he grinned.

      “Get over yourself, Aaron. I wear this when I’m alone. I didn’t bring it for you.”

      “Can I watch you change?”

      “No.” She removed her wig and threw it at him. Then she released her hair from a nylon cap, letting the blond locks flow free.

      He caught the wig. “Are you sure I can’t watch you take off your clothes?”

      “No.” She walked past him and into the bathroom, closing the door with a kiss-my-butt thud.

      “Witch,” he said to the wig.

      “I heard that,” Talia called out from behind the door.

      “Because you’ve got bat ears.” And a pretty little tattoo that turned him on. He was dying to see her naked, to relish all of those sweet, soft curves.

      Talia took forever in the bathroom, but he knew she would. She always soaked in the tub at night. Aaron preferred brisk morning showers.