Fool Me Once

by Karly Lane

  The scuffle was eventually broken up by security and the men dispersed through the crowd to reclaim their drinks and rehash their victories.

  Shannon fussed about the small cut on the lip of her dance partner, crooning and praising. His brother came towards Georgie, his shirt bloodied and torn and his nose bleeding, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

  ‘See, now you look like you belong at a B&S ball,’ she said sarcastically.

  Wiping his nose with the tissue Shannon handed him, he looked down at her and smiled a crooked smile that managed to flip her stomach, despite her irritation.

  ‘You aren’t impressed by my manly performance?’ he said lightly.

  ‘Takes more than a fight to impress a country girl, buddy.’

  He sent a brief flicker of a glance towards his brother and raised an eyebrow. ‘Apparently only this country girl.’

  Georgie didn’t bother hiding her disgusted snort as she watched Shannon plant little butterfly kisses along his brother’s jaw in sympathy. ‘Oh please. Shannon is no more impressed by that than … Okay,’ she conceded grudgingly, ‘maybe she would be impressed.’

  ‘But you’re not?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘You’re a hard woman …’ His voice trailed off and he stared at her oddly for a moment. ‘We haven’t been introduced. Michael Delacourt.’ He held out his hand and she eyed it warily before reaching out to shake it.

  ‘Georgie Henderson.’

  ‘So, Georgie Henderson, what does it take to impress you?’

  ‘Not that.’ She smiled before turning away. ‘I take it you’ll make your own way home?’ she asked Shannon, breaking into the couple’s lovefest.

  ‘You’re not going now?’

  ‘I’ve had enough of reliving my youth for one night.’

  Waving off her friend’s protests, Georgie made for the door.

  ‘Hey!’

  She turned as Michael called out and caught up with her.

  ‘Mind if I catch a ride back into town with you? I’m leaving the car for Brent to drive back later. I really don’t want to hang around until they’re ready to leave.’ He looked at her woefully. ‘Don’t make me stand here all alone …’

  ‘I doubt you’d be alone for long, prime beef like you. Especially now you’ve gone and proven how tough and manly you really are,’ she added. She’d noticed more than a few of the younger women eyeing him off with renewed interest during the altercation.

  Standing before her, hands in his pockets, his expensive suit jacket slung over his arm and shirtsleeves rolled up, he should have looked rumpled and unkempt but he didn’t. He looked rugged and a little bit charming.

  ‘Don’t make me beg.’

  Somehow Georgie couldn’t imagine this man begging for anything, ever, but she felt her resolve weaken. ‘Fine. Come on then,’ she sighed, then realised this meant she’d be alone with him.

  The moment he’d walked into the hall, he’d known it was a mistake. Brent had realised it wasn’t one of his better ideas too and they’d been about to turn and leave when the shapely blonde had caught Brent’s attention, and with Brent’s promise of just needing a minute, Michael had been left to watch his younger brother flirt shamelessly before ending up on the dance floor. So much for a minute. He’d been so close. If they’d left a few minutes earlier, he’d have been on the road and heading back to his room and his comfy bed. But, instead, there he was standing around like a shag on a rock, waiting to catch his brother’s eye so they could leave. As he listlessly surveyed the room, his gaze came to rest on a woman in a blue dress standing across the hall. He wasn’t sure why she’d caught his attention; maybe it was because she didn’t seem to be part of the noise and party going on around her, or maybe because, like him, she seemed sober, which was probably a more obvious way to stand out at a B&S.

  She looked up, then quickly looked away. It was only a fleeting glance, but for that split-second he felt something strange pass between them. He gave a rough chuckle and resisted the urge to rub his hands across his face. It had been a long week. He wasn’t even sure why he’d agreed to come along on this buying trip of Brent’s. He’d only flown home from Japan the day before, after an intense two-day negotiation that had been on the verge of breaking down. Actually, he did know; it was to get out of going to Sunday breakfast with his mother and stepfather. He hadn’t wanted to see the disappointment on his mother’s face if he said no outright, so he’d used Brent’s buying trip as an excuse. His mother was probably still disappointed, but she knew that work trumped everything else, even family. God knows she’d been married to a workaholic long enough to have learned that lesson well.

  Maybe that’s why he stepped into the ridiculous fight when he’d normally have defused the situation. He was angry at himself for allowing his dislike for his stepfather to get him into this stupid mess in the first place. He had to admit, it’d felt good to take a little bit of his frustration out on some nameless dickhead—briefly, until he’d realised he had the advantage of being sober. It wasn’t a fair fight and he’d come to his senses before any great damage had been inflicted. He could have done without the whack to his bloody nose though. Jesus that hurt, and looking at the size of the fists on the kid who’d landed the blow, he was probably lucky the guy had been two parts cut or he was fairly sure his nose would have been spread across his face.

  To cap everything off, the woman who’d made this whole miserable night almost worthwhile was about to walk away. Well, not if he could help it. He tossed the car keys to Brent and hurried to catch up with Georgie. There was no way in hell he was hanging around this place if she wasn’t going to be here.

  He didn’t know why she was suddenly so important. Maybe it was because she’d cast a tiny ray of sunshine across his bleak and dreary week and he wasn’t ready to walk away from that just yet.

  Two

  The noise of the ball receded the further they walked from the small, isolated hall. The open paddock that served as a car park, where the majority of the partygoers would later spend the night in sleeping bags and swags in the backs of utes, was full of ruts. It was hard to navigate in the dark, especially in heels. Georgie stumbled, then muttered a quiet curse as a strong arm snaked out to circle her waist in order to steady her. Her breath quickened a little and she forced herself to concentrate on where she was placing her feet.

  She came to a stop in front of her trusty old Holden ute. It wasn’t the new sleek, sexy kind, but the earlier, squarer type. The sturdy, reliable model that she refused to give up just for the sake of fashion. The engine roared to life with a low growl and Georgie crept along the dirt track, careful to look out for bodies lying where they passed out after a long night of drinking. Her headlights lit up the narrow road, with darkness either side and in the distance beyond. It was an eerily quiet time of the night.

  ‘Did you grow up around here, Georgie?’ Michael asked.

  ‘I’m from a bit further out west, but I lived here for a few years when I went to university in Armidale,’ she told him. ‘I’m just back for the weekend.’

  ‘What were you studying?’

  ‘A Bachelor of Agriculture and Business.’

  ‘Best of both worlds.’

  ‘Seemed to be the natural choice really. Farming’s changed. Nowadays you need to know as much about business, rural politics, resource management and agribusiness marketing as you do about farming.’

  She watched the white lines flash beneath her wheels and remembered when she’d wished her own life would hurry up and move just as fast. Then one day she’d looked back and realised it was going faster than she’d intended and she still didn’t feel as though she was getting anywhere.

  ‘So, what do you do now?’ he asked.

  ‘I manage a place.’

  ‘Really?’

  She glanced across at him. ‘Surprised that a woman’s capable of running a property?’

  ‘No,’ he denied quickly, then gave a bit of a sheepish grin. ‘Maybe a li
ttle. But it’s not what you’re thinking,’ he added in a hurry when he saw her frown deepen. ‘I know a lot of women working properties, but I guess I was expecting you to work maybe in some kind of corporate sector …’ His words petered out.

  ‘Why would you think that?’ she asked, eyeing him curiously.

  ‘Well, you don’t look …’ He hesitated, before selecting his words carefully. ‘The women I know working properties don’t look like you.’

  Georgie scoffed out loud. ‘I don’t normally wear heels to work cattle,’ she said dryly.

  Sadly, most people still thought of farming as a male-dominated industry. In many ways it was, but women made up a huge portion of the workforce—a lot of them going unrecognised in their role as wife or partner.

  ‘I didn’t mean any offence,’ he said softly.

  Her initial defensiveness faded a little. She rarely wore anything other than jeans and T-shirts and dusty work boots. She tried to think back to the last time she’d got this dressed up and realised it was a very long time ago. Maybe Shannon was right. Maybe she was turning into a crabby old hermit.

  ‘The property you manage, is it a family farm?’ he asked, and a familiar sick feeling settled in her stomach.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. I just assumed—’

  ‘That I’d only be given a management role if it were family?’ she finished for him.

  ‘It’s just that you’re so young … I didn’t expect … I should probably keep my mouth shut before I get thrown out of the car, huh?’

  It was a fair assumption, she supposed, although it still irked her. ‘Do people assume you inherited your business? I mean, we’re almost the same age and you run a business too.’

  ‘That’s true. I didn’t mean to insult you … again,’ he added dryly.

  ‘It’s okay, I’m used to it.’

  ‘Being insulted?’

  She gave him a lopsided grin without taking her eyes from the road. ‘Most young people do inherit their properties from family. Or they’re married when they buy their own. I just happen to be single and a bit of an oddity, I guess. At least, I am around town … and to Shannon.’

  ‘I think it says more about your strength of character than about you being odd.’

  She could feel his gaze on her as she drove.

  ‘Are your family on the land too?’

  Her hands automatically tightened on the wheel. ‘No.’ She knew her answer was abrupt, but there were just some subjects that were off limits—especially to a stranger. ‘Not anymore.’

  She could sense he wanted to ask more, but she was done with this topic now.

  ‘So what brings you and your brother out here?’ The small hall in the tiny hamlet thirty-four kilometres from Armidale was hardly on a list of tourist attractions.

  ‘We’re out here on business, looking at a few investments. Brent heard about the B&S while we were in town and thought it might be fun. What about you?’

  ‘Shannon saw it advertised and had a sudden desire to recapture our youth,’ she replied. Her best friend was always trying to get her to go away on crazy weekends. She was wild, impulsive and fun—everything Georgie wasn’t. Not that she liked being thought of as a party pooper—she didn’t. She liked a party as much as the next person, she just didn’t have the luxury of ditching her responsibilities whenever the mood struck to disappear for a weekend, the way Shannon did. Besides, she’d agreed to go to New Zealand with the woman in a few weeks’ time. It wasn’t as though she worked all the time.

  ‘Lucky for me she dragged you along then,’ he murmured. She caught his slight smile from the corner of her eye.

  In the confines of the car she could smell the warm, spicy fragrance of his aftershave and the lingering scent of woodsmoke from the hall. It was a strangely potent combination.

  ‘You said you were out here looking at investments—what kind?’ she asked, determined to push the heady scent of the man from her mind if not her senses.

  ‘I’m looking to buy a property in the area.’

  Georgie nodded but didn’t comment. Rich city boy looking for a hobby farm, she figured. They went on to discuss cattle breeds and markets and new techniques they’d read about recently, and to her surprise he actually knew what he was talking about. All too soon houses began to appear, becoming closer and closer together, and as they entered the town limits, the road was lit with streetlights.

  She gave a slow whistle as she drove through the fancy gates of the guesthouse where Michael and Brent were staying. ‘Nice place to slum it,’ she said. It put the small, slightly rundown motel room she’d booked to shame.

  He gave a twist of his lips. ‘I don’t slum it if I don’t have to.’

  ‘So I see.’ She rolled the car to a stop. ‘Well, it was nice to meet you. Good luck finding a property.’ She spoke quietly. In the dim light she could make out his wide shoulders and strong jawline and she felt jittery again.

  ‘Don’t go yet, Georgie, come inside with me,’ he coaxed gently. She saw him lean towards her and felt the heat of his skin as he hovered a mere breath away from her. The soft, hesitant touch of his lips sent a hum through her body.

  As he pulled away slightly, she opened her mouth say no, but heard Shannon’s exasperated voice in her head. You live like some kind of reclusive spinster. One day you’re going to wake up and realise you’re old and grouchy and all alone.

  Firstly, she was not all alone. She saw people … all the time … well, some of the time—she went into town for food and supplies. Georgie frowned. Fine. She’d show Shannon. If she was supposed to be reliving her youth, then okay, why not?

  ‘Okay,’ she heard herself say, as though from a distant place.

  They didn’t bother with the lights. The moment the door shut he stepped close and took her face in his hands, kissing her with such tenderness that all thoughts of protest instantly melted away.

  Standing in the centre of the room with the soft glow of moonlight falling across them, Georgie watched as Michael unbuttoned his shirt. She stared at his wide shoulders for a moment, before reaching out to place her palms against his chest. She felt the rhythmic thump of his heart beneath her hand, and lifting her eyes to meet his, she skimmed her fingers down the smooth skin of his torso as though committing each muscle, each dip and bulge, to memory.

  When her fingers reached his waist, they went to the button of his trousers and she gave a frustrated growl as she fumbled with the hidden fastenings.

  His deep chuckle made her quiver once more as he pressed gentle kisses along her throat. He removed her hands and finished the job for her.

  ‘You know, you look good in Armani … but you look even better out of it,’ she told him, stepping back to admire him openly. She wondered briefly where this sassy confidence was coming from but gave up trying to work it out. Tonight she wasn’t responsible, rational Georgie. Tonight she was fun, carefree Georgie—the Georgie she had been at uni. Just for tonight.

  She slid the straps of her dress slowly down her arms and let it pool at her feet in a shimmering mass of blue silk. As she held his eyes, she saw the amusement of a few seconds before dissolve into a smouldering liquid heat that scorched a path along her skin in the wake of his hungry gaze.

  Turning, she walked towards the elaborate bathroom and crooked a finger in his direction.

  ‘I smell like stale beer and bonfire smoke,’ she said, smiling as she turned on the taps of the shower and stepped into the stall. He followed her, dwarfing the area and pressing up against her body. Beneath the stream of hot water, she felt her pulse go into overdrive. The touch of his naked skin, sleek and wet beneath her hands, banished all rational thought.

  Three

  In the early morning light, Georgie stared down at the man still asleep in the bed. His dark hair lay in stark contrast to the crisp white of the pillow, and the sheets were draped low on his hips.

  It had been an amazing night, but she knew better than to think a man like Michael Delacou
rt would be interested in her once he left town and headed back to the city, no matter how sweet his words or how seductive his skills in bed. Nope, the party was over, Georgie girl. It was time to get back to reality.

  With a heavy heart, she drove back across town. It was still dark outside but there were the faintest streaks of daylight on the horizon—erasing the last shadows of her magical, one-night escape from reality. At home, she’d normally be up by now, preparing for the day ahead, but she wasn’t at home just yet. Shoving away tiny beginnings of guilt, she decided to do what normal people did on a Sunday morning and go back to bed for few precious hours of sleep. She let herself into her poky little motel room that smelled of damp carpet covered up with bathroom cleaner, and climbed in between the cold bedsheets … alone.

  Michael woke up from a pretty amazing dream, slowly opening his eyes. As his room came into focus, the events of the previous night replayed through his mind and two things suddenly registered. The first was that he hadn’t been dreaming and the second was … he was alone in the bed.

  He sat up and listened for the sound of running water or some other sign of Georgie, but her clothes were gone from the floor where they’d been discarded last night and the room was silent.

  What had he expected? He’d known last night that this would probably be nothing more than a pleasant surprise. He sure as hell hadn’t gone out with the intention of picking up a random stranger—not exactly the usual expectation for a B&S ball, he had to admit. He hadn’t even wanted to go to the damn thing in the first place, but as usual his younger brother could talk him into pretty much anything. He rubbed his jaw—it was still a little tender—and he gave a small grunt of self-deprecating mirth.

  Disappointment cut through Michael when he realised he wouldn’t see Georgie again. Usually he was level-headed. He took risks in business, but they were always well thought out. He wasn’t an impulsive man who blindly jumped into situations, but meeting Georgie last night had thrown his usual caution to the wind.