“Around five thirty,” I answer. “And I owe you a big apology for stealing your bed. When I woke up and saw you curled up asleep in a chair, I was afraid you would never speak to me again. I’m glad you’re here. Can I tell you again how much I love the dress?”

“Yes, you can. I usually wear shorts, so I wanted to wear something nice for a change and bring you lunch.” She holds up the bag from a deli down the street. “If you have time that is. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nope, not a thing. My next client’s appointment isn’t for at least another hour. Come in and sit down.”

I take her hand and clear out a chair for her to sit down on. She looks curiously around the tattoo shop’s front office.

“So this is where you work your magic?” she asks.

“I do the tattoos in the back. I try to keep things as sterile as possible, so only clients are allowed in that room. I do the consultations in here and the design work.”

I run my hand down her arm, amazed at how soft her skin always feels underneath my fingers. I can’t stop touching her. She smells good, and it makes me want to bury my face in the soft place in her neck.

“Maybe I can talk you into letting me give you a tattoo one day.”

She shakes her head and laughs.

“I don’t think so. The permanent nature of a tattoo worries me. I might get bored with having the same tattoo on my body for the rest of my life. Besides, I like to change my look occasionally.”

I bet you do.

Like every time you go undercover. Thank you for reminding me.

“Is that so? I would love to see your other looks. Do you have any photos? Did you wear your hair different?”

“Not too much,” she answers. “Sometimes I change the color, that’s all. I’ll show you some old photos another time.”

I reach over and finger her hair. “I like you the way you look now. Don’t change anytime soon, okay?”

“I’ll agree to that,” she says. “But only for now.”

She checks the time on her cell phone and holds up the food bag.

“I’m taking up too much of your time. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I bought three different sandwiches. I like them all, so you pick first.”

If she’s playing me, it’s working. Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it along the way.

“Sounds great. I have some paper plates in the back. I’ll go get them.”

After rummaging around in my back room for plates and grabbing a couple of soft drinks from the refrigerator, I walk back into the front office.

“Here we go,” I say. “Let’s eat.”