He shifted in his seat and I laid my hand on his upper thigh, curling around the inside—like I’d seen couples who were obvious lovers do so many times. I rubbed him there, affectionately, and leaned into his shoulder.

“Oh, of course good! He thinks the world of you,” I said, shooting a worshipful smile at Adam. My hand crept northward.

Adam clamped his hand on top of mine under the guise of holding it, prying it off his leg and lacing his fingers around mine. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it. The shock of it raced down my arm. “You’re so patient with me, sweetie.”

Lindsay’s eyes almost popped out of her head watching Adam’s display—although faked, as I knew. I surmised that Adam, who acted awkward and stiff whenever I leaned up against him in private, was not prone to open affection like this. Given Lindsay’s openmouthed reaction, this was completely out of character for him. Maybe we could really put on a show and have him jumping all over the chairs like Tom Cruise on the Oprah Winfrey show.

Just then, the waiter came to take our order. “I’ll have whatever he’s having,” I cooed dreamily, hoping he didn’t order something vile. He ordered the Floriano combo plate—way too much food for me. But, hey, I never complained about leftovers.

“What are you doing up this way, Adam?” Lindsay asked.

He looked at me and then back at Lindsay as if to say, Isn’t it obvious? And suddenly I got the spark of an idea that this meeting wasn’t coincidental. I shot a sidelong glance at Adam, who still had my hand clamped inside his.

After only a few more minutes of empty conversation, Lindsay pushed her chair away from the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt and I have to get back. You are coming to the party on Friday, Adam?”

He smiled. “Yes. We’ll definitely be there. Emilia’s my ‘plus one.’ Thanks for the invitation.” I scowled. What was this? A party? A Newport Beach party thrown by Lindsay? Ugh. No, thank you.

Lindsay’s shoulders visibly slumped and she turned away, adjusting her designer sunglasses and walking off toward one of the business buildings in the plaza.

“Well, that was lucky,” he said. I noted that he still hadn’t let go of my hand, but I didn’t say anything.

“No, it wasn’t,” I said. “You planned that.”

Adam reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his sunglasses. “Maybe I did.”

I studied him. “Why?” He hesitated and I added, “If you say you don’t have to tell me your reasons, I’m going to kick you where it counts.”

“So violent,” he grimaced, shooting me a sidelong glance. “She came down to the complex the other day for lunch. Told me she’d filed for divorce from Jerome.”

I grinned at him. “Did she put the moves on you?”

He shot another look at me and then away, clearly embarrassed.

“She did, didn’t she? I knew it. She wants you.”

Adam’s mouth quirked. “Lindsay is a friend. Nothing more. That’s not going to change.”

“Why not just tell her that instead of throwing me in her face?”

His hand tightened around mine. “Is that what you think I was doing? You’re twisting again.”

“Kissing my hand and calling me ‘sweetie’ is not your typical behavior.”

I couldn’t read his face, veiled behind the sunglasses. “Perhaps not.”

Our food arrived then and he released my hand so we could eat. We dug in, silent over our meal for a few minutes. I shot him a few speculative looks, which he pretended not to notice. So I was his decoy. That explained a lot, actually. He was keeping me around to deflect Lindsay—or maybe others—from getting any ideas. With Lindsay beginning a divorce, she’d be vulnerable, on the prowl. Perhaps this was Adam’s way of letting her down easy. Or avoiding her during this period where she might have a wrong idea, because even if he pretended not to notice it, it was clear to me that Lindsay wanted Adam.

“Can’t avoid it forever, you know,” I said, picking at my maduros.

He swallowed a forkful of Spanish rice. “What’s that?”

“Marriage. Someday you aren’t going to have a shield to hide behind.”

He seemed to intuit my meaning immediately. In response, he only shrugged.

I pressed the matter because I’d forgotten how he tended to turn my position of control back on me. Even when it came to conversations. “No desire to find the right person, settle down, make little baby prodigy geniuses?”