He turns to me, his eyes lit up with their trademark post–magic trick mischief. I beam up at him, shaking my head. He links his arm through mine.
“Good evening, Watson. Care to take a stroll?”
Silently, I nod, and we walk down the street until I stop and turn to face him again, placing my hands firmly against his chest. “Okay, I have to ask. Was that real? Did you really just magically win the lottery for all those people?”
He grins. “I’d like to hear your theory.”
“Hmm, I was thinking maybe you used the money from your settlement, but that was two million, not four.”
One eyebrow raised, he tells me, “I’m actually donating my settlement money to a charity for victims of domestic abuse.”
I gape at him. “You are?”
He swipes his thumb over my chin. “Yes. I’m certain some of your goodness must be rubbing off on me,” he murmurs, almost absently, as his eyes trace my features.
“Don’t give me that. You were always good. Too good. But please, tell me if what I saw on that video tonight was real.”
Jay looks at me for a long moment, eyes shining brown and green under the street lights. “Do you really want an answer?” he asks back. “Isn’t it more exciting not knowing, just letting the possibilities be endless? Like, maybe I’m a genius and figured out some mathematical formula of probabilities to predict the lottery. Maybe I bribed the ball guy to rig the system.” He pauses to laugh and pulls the same ticket he’d shown on the video out of his pocket. “Maybe I faked this ticket, and I’m just giving them my own money. Maybe I’m psychic. Maybe I had a real good time at the poker tables. The maybes could go on forever, Watson, but we both know that mystery is better than the truth. So why not live with the magic? Be a kid again and believe in the fantastical. Life is more fun with a little smoke and mirrors.”
He gives me a devilish wink.
I shake my head at him, unable to keep my smile from growing wide. I point a finger into his chest, beaming up at him. “You, Mr Fields, are insufferable.”
He laughs. “That’s a lie. You find me charming. I know when you’re lying, remember?”
“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate that?”
“You don’t have to,” his voice is full of affection. “I can tell when you hate it, too.”
Something pops into my head, and I wag my finger at him. “A-ha, but I lied to you once, and you never knew.”
“Oh, yeah,” he says indulgently. “And when was this?”
“The night I was attacked by the thug. It wasn’t random. Una was there.”
Slowly, his smile grows wider. “I knew you were lying then, too. Didn’t you notice my knuckles were fucked up the next morning?”
“No, I didn’t. And what does that mean? You spent the night on the couch.”
“Not the whole night. I snuck out, found the fuck Una paid to threaten you, and made sure he wouldn’t be doing it again.”
I stare at him, awestruck. “How did you know?”
“I asked you a few innocent questions, watched your reactions, and figured the rest out for myself. It takes a lot of practice to be able to lie to me.” He pauses, voice going soft and sexy. “And I’m too obsessed with you not to know every single one of your tells.”
That answer both endlessly pleases and irritates the hell out of me at the same time.
“That’s…okay, that’s kind of cool.”
He chuckles tenderly as his arms go around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. I press my face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “And I love you,” I whisper.
He lifts my chin and takes my mouth in a slow, lingering kiss before coming up for air. “Yeah, ya do.”
Several people wolf whistle and shout encouragements at us as they pass by. He’s holding me so tight that I can feel his phone start to vibrate in his pocket, interrupting our little moment.
I giggle, breaking the kiss. “Is that a vibrating phone in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”
He gives me a crooked smirk as he pulls out his phone to answer it. “A bit of both.”
He doesn’t let go of me through his conversation. I’m not sure who he’s talking to, but his end consists of a lot of yes and no answers, before ending with a, “Great, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon, then.”
I watch as he tucks the phone back in his pocket and pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my temples. “Who was that?” I ask.
His answering grin makes me shiver, in a good way. “That was my agent over in the States. You’re about to cough up on that agreement, darlin’.”