He turned. And stared.

"What is it?" Alarmed, she slapped a hand to the slight swell of her br**sts above the glittery sequins and looked down. "Do I have it on backwards or something?"

The laugh did the trick of starting his heart again. "No. You wear it very well. There's nothing that raises a man's blood pressure as quickly as a long, slim woman in a black dress."

She snorted. "Give me a break."

"Perfect, perfect." The saleswoman came over to pluck and peck. Mel rolled her eyes at Sebastian. "It fits like a dream."

"Yes," he agreed. "Like a dream."

"I have some red silk evening pants that would be just darling on her."

"Donovan," Mel began, a plea in her voice, but he was already following the eager clerk.

Thirty minutes later, Mel strode out of the store. "That's it. Case closed."

"One more stop."

"Donovan, I'm not trying on any more clothes. I'd rather be staked to an anthill."

"No more clothes," he promised.

"Good. I could be undercover on this case for a decade and not wear everything."

"Two weeks," he told her. "It won't take longer than two weeks. And by the time we've made the rounds at the casinos, the clubs, attended a few parties, you'll have made good use of the wardrobe."

"Two weeks?" She felt excitement begin to percolate through the boredom. "Are you sure?"

"Call it a hunch." He patted her hand. "I have a feeling that what we do in Tahoe will be enough to set the dominoes tumbling on this black-market operation."

"You never told me exactly how you convinced the feds to let us go with this."

"I have a history with them. You could say I called in a few favors, made some promises."

She stopped to look in another store window, not to peruse the wares, but because she needed a moment to chose her words. "I know I couldn't have gotten them to back me without you. And I know that you don't really have a stake in any of this."

"I have the same stake as you." He turned her to face him. "You don't have a client, Sutherland. No retainer, no fee."

"That doesn't matter."

"No." He smiled and kissed her brow. "It doesn't. Sometimes you're involved simply because there's a chance you can make a difference."

"I thought it was because of Rose," Mel said slowly. "And it is, but it's also because of Mrs. Frost. I can still hear the way she was crying when we took David away."

"I know."

"It's not that I'm a do-gooder," she said, suddenly embarrassed. He kissed her once more.

"I know. There are rules." He took her hand, and they began to walk again.

She took her time, keeping her voice light, as she touched on something that had been nagging at her brain for days.

"If we can really get set up by the end of the week, we'll be sort of living together for a while."

"Does that bother you?"

"Well, no. If it doesn't bother you." She was beginning to feel like a fool, but it was important she make him understand she wasn't the kind of woman who mixed fantasy with reality. "We'll be pretending that we're married. That we're in love and everything."

"It's convenient to be in love when you're married."

"Right." She let out a huff of breath. "I just want you to know that I can play the game. I can be good at it. So you shouldn't think that…"

He toyed with her fingers as they walked. "Shouldn't think what?"

"Well, I know that some people can get carried away, or mix up the way things are with the way they're pretending they are. I just don't want you to get nervous that I'd do that."

"Oh, I think my nerves can stand the pretense of you being in love with me."

He said it so lightly that she scowled down at the sidewalk. "Well, good. Fine. Just so we know where we stand."

"I think we should practice." He whipped her around so that she collided with him.

"What?"

"Practice," he repeated. "So we can be sure you can pull off the role of the loving wife." He held her a little closer. "Kiss me, Mary Ellen."

"We're out on the street. We're in public."

"All the more reason. It hardly matters how we behave privately. You're blushing."

"I am not."

"You certainly are, and you'll have to watch that. I don't think it would embarrass you to kiss a man you've been married to for—what is it? Five years. And, according to our established cover, we lived together a full year before that. You were twenty-two when you fell in love with me."

"I can add," she muttered.

"You wash my socks."

Her lips quirked. "The hell I do. We have a modern marriage. You do the laundry."

"Ah, but you've given up your career as an ad executive to make a home."

"I hate that part." She slipped her arms around his neck. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"Putter." He grinned. "Initially, we'll be on vacation, establishing our new home. We'll spend a lot of time in bed."

"Well, all right." She grinned back. "Since it's for a good cause."

She did kiss him then, long and deep, dancing her tongue over his, feeling his heart pick up its beat and race with hers. Then, slowly, she inched away.

"Maybe I wouldn't kiss you like that after five years," she mused.

"Oh, yes, you will." He took her arm and steered her into his cousin's shop. "Well, well…" Morgana set down a malachite egg she'd been polishing. She'd had an excellent view of the show through her display window. "Another few minutes of that and you'd have stopped traffic."

"An experiment," Sebastian told her. "Morgana knows about the case." Even as Mel's brows drew together, he was continuing. "I don't keep secrets from my family."

"There's no need to worry." Morgana touched Sebastian's arm, but her eyes were on Mel. "We don't keep secrets from each other, but we've had plenty of experience in being… discrete with outsiders."