She grinned. It was fun to tease him. From the corner of her eye, she inspected his shirt again, searching for a blue button like the one on Kat’s guy. Nope. But he wasn’t wearing a name tag, either, so what did that mean? “If it makes you feel better, we can pretend to start over,” Julia offered.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s all supposed to be pretend anyways, right?” she said, as much a reminder to herself as anyone else.

“Right,” he agreed. “Pretend.” He pushed off the wall and held his hand out to her.

Julia shook his hand, her skin tingling at the contact.

“I’m Lance.”

“Lance?” She made a face. “Really?”

“You don’t like the name?”

“Luke fits you much better.”

“Guess that’s a good thing.” He grinned.

Oh, there were those little eye crinkles again.

And now she was tingling in other places. Julia guessed he was a few years older than her. Around thirty. “Can I just call you Luke?”

“That isn’t part of the game.”

“It can be our little secret,” she whispered. For some reason, it was important to her to be able to call him by his real name.

“What should I call you, then?” He raised one sandy brow. “Jules?”

“Julia is fine.” She tried to ignore the tickle of pleasure at hearing him use her nickname. She should be annoyed, not pleased. There were very few people in her life she allowed to call her Jules.

“Okay, Julia. We can use our real names, but only when it’s just the two of us. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She nodded, enjoying the sound of her name on his lips and the idea of this little shared secret between them way too much.

“But when we’re around the other players, what am I supposed to call you?” he asked, bending down so he could speak quietly in her ear.

“Oh, um…” Julia inhaled, mind going blank. He was so close. And he smelled so good. She’d noted it briefly on the beach earlier when she’d face-planted on top of him. It had been subtle, hidden within all the outdoor scents of the lake. But even then, she’d wanted to bury her face into his neck and breathe him in.

“My name?” She exhaled, letting out a shaky laugh, her brain still on hiatus. “Shit.”

“That’s the name they gave you?” He stepped back, mouth curved in a teasing grin. “No wonder you want to use your real name.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” She pointed to her name tag. “Meg. Meg Bryant.”

“I think your tag’s coming off, Meg.” He reached out and smoothed the corner with the tip of his finger. “That’s better.”

“Thanks,” she croaked.

“No problem.”

Was it her imagination or did his voice seem a bit huskier?

“So.” He cleared his throat. “Meg Bryant, huh? That makes sense.”