Page 22 of The Apparent Trap

“What’s your favorite?”

“How much time you got?”

He’s gazing down at me, and I feel that spark again, that inevitable pull he reels me in with. I think maybe that’s why that one night has made itself at home in my mind, stretching itself out and taking up space. I never have chemistry with anyone. And, granted, I don’t go out enough or break out of my routine enough to meet many men outside of work, but I can’t shake the sensation.

I have got to get out of this room. I can’t be this close to him and not have my entire body on high alert.

“Anyway,” I repeat, snapping us both into focus. “I think low risk is good for our first go-round.”

“Any lower and we’d be underground.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “We have to see if we’re even capable of pulling anything off.”

“Okay, fine,” he concurs.

I pull out my phone. “I’ll place the order.”

He grabs my arm. “Won’t she see your name on it?”

We both look down at where he’s holding me, and his hand immediately retracts. I clear my throat. “No, I always change my name on apps. You get way better service if you use a man’s name, anyway.”

“That cannot be true.”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” I say, shaking my head. “To be a handsome, tall, straight man.”

“All I heard was that you think I’m handsome,” he says, that grin back. I hate it and love it simultaneously.

“Don’t forget tall,” I say, brushing him off.

“And . . .” I can see he’s about to make some quip about being straight, and I feel the blush come before he even says anything.

But for whatever reason, he stops himself. For a man who’s playful with everyone else, he’s seemingly determined to stop himself from being that way in my presence. Everyone else is on the receiving end of that easygoing charm I got to experience for one night. But for some reason with me, now that we’re beyond indifference, I get a more serious version of Lee. And maybe that has something to do with handling something so precarious—how can you have fun with a woman who you only know as your daughter’s producer and your partner in breakup crime?

“Anyway, yeah, on my food apps I’m always Eddie, instead of Ezzie.”

“And that does something?”

“It comes faster, and any interaction is more polite.”

“Huh.”

“You probably get a little screwed being Lee, since that’s unisex.” He thinks about that for a moment. “But is your full name Lee? Maybe go with whatever the longer version is.” He doesn’t say anything, and I wonder what nerve I’ve hit. “What?”

“What is this, Learn About Your Potential New Step-Grandfather Day?”

I choke on a laugh. “Don’t even say that, that’s horrifying.”

The grin is back. The spark is taunting me under the surface.

“Okay, well, we don’t need to keep having this conversation,” I say, opening my app and double ordering the salad. I put in the phone number of the production assistant who will bring it to her, so there’s an extra layer of plausible deniability. “It’s done. They’ll get it. So now we’ll just have to see what happens.”

“Should one of us interrupt after a while so we can . . . what did you call it? Lay more groundwork?”

“And say what?”

“You’ll think of something,” he says.

“Oh it’s me doing this?” I ask, now nervous. This half-baked plan at least had the advantage of doing something without actually implicating me in anything. But maybe that aspect of the plan isn’t so foolproof.