“I am not sure you are ready for that,” he answered honestly.
“Mmm, a man of mystery, huh? Let’s start with something easy. Where are you from?”
He laughed softly. “That question is not as easily answered as you might think.”
She grinned, tucking her legs beneath her. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you? Hm. Okay. I took a course in profiling, so how about I try to guess things about you and you tell me if I’m warm?”
He tilted his head, puzzled by her statement. “Of course you are warm. Your normal body temperature is ninety-eight point six degrees Fahrenheit, thirty-seven degrees Celsius.”
She laughed. “Accurate, but not what I meant. I’ll formulate guesses based on the little bit I do know about you, and you tell me how close I am to the truth.”
The idea held merit. There was still a risk involved, but not one as great as blurting out the truth all at once. Perhaps if his clever mate could assemble some of the pieces herself, her acceptance would come easier.
“Ah, I see. A game.”
“Exactly.”
“All right. You may proceed.”
“Okay. First off, I’m going to guess you’re not from anywhere around here.”
He nodded, amused. She had no idea.
“Based on your speech patterns and the way you carry yourself, you are highly educated and had a strict upbringing. Probably rather sheltered, too.”
He nodded again, fascinated by her thought process and attention to detail.
“What I can’t seem to figure out,” she said, leaning forward, “is what you were doing at Bait the other night. You don’t seem the type.”
“Neither do you,” he pointed out.
“No,” she agreed, “but as I already explained, I was there for my friend Betty. What’s your excuse?”
Tiberius took a deep breath. “I own it.”