Fool Me Once

by Karly Lane

  The heady scent of his aftershave, a woodsy, spicy concoction that no doubt cost a month of her wages, was intoxicating. It floated between them and she was tempted to bury her face against his smooth throat and give him a good sniff. The thought of his reaction if she actually did this made her giggle unexpectedly.

  ‘Now what are you thinking about?’ His drawl was low and lazy and she heard the smile in his voice even though she didn’t pull back to see it.

  ‘Nothing,’ she lied quickly; she didn’t want to give him any more ideas than he was already having.

  ‘Have you thought about my offer?’

  She let the music drift between them for a moment, before she answered, ‘I’m flying home.’

  ‘I didn’t pick you for a chicken, Georgie. Scared I’m going to prove you wrong?’

  ‘I have a business to run.’

  ‘You have someone caretaking for you, one more week won’t make any difference.’

  The song ended and a new one began. Pulling out of his grasp, she backed away and shook her head. ‘It might not make a difference to a corporation like yours, but it does to me. Thank you for the dance.’

  He didn’t try to stop her leaving, and Georgie tried not to worry about the fact he’d let it go so easily.

  Michael didn’t know where the idea for the offer had come from the night before—all he’d known was that he was desperate, and time was running out. It was out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying, but actually, he was kind of impressed. He wasn’t as confident as he’d seemed that it would work, but if nothing else it bought him more time. A week to be exact.

  He smiled politely as his mother introduced him to some of her friends and was glad of the opportunity to take his mind off his frustrations for a while. When his brother made an announcement that he and his new bride would be leaving, Michael immediately searched the room for Georgie, spotting her in the middle of the crush of well-wishers lined up to say their farewells. By the time the couple had left, he’d lost sight of her and he decided to go up to his suite, hoping they might have a better chance to talk alone. On his way out, he found himself delayed further saying farewell to guests as they began to head off, but hid his impatience behind a polite smile. There’d still been no sign of Georgie and he was eager to catch her before she headed to bed.

  As soon as he entered the room, he knew she wasn’t there. There were no shoes kicked off in the lounge room where she usually left them as soon as she escaped an outing, and a glance into her bedroom revealed all her belongings were gone. He sank down onto the end of her bed. He was too late, she’d left.

  Twenty-One

  Pulling up at the gate, Georgie rolled to a stop and sat for a moment listening to her diesel engine idling as her eyes wandered over the sign welcoming guests to Stoney Creek Station. It still gave her a thrill to come home to her little piece of heaven. The smell of eucalyptus and wattle drifted towards her. The warm air caressed her cheek and she tilted her face up to the sun to allow herself a moment of indulgence.

  It’d been a long trip. She’d left the reception, packed her stuff and booked into a motel close to the airport, ready for her early flight the next morning. She knew if she stayed, she’d only weaken again and that would just make things even more complicated. Chemistry had never been their problem; it was just the other things like honesty and trust that ruined everything.

  It was good to be back. As she drove, Georgie gave the place a careful once-over. It was ridiculous—she’d only been gone four days, but it was an automatic response. She’d become even more pedantic with the farm-stay side of the business taking off. It was imperative in this age of social media where a review—good or bad—could make or break a business.

  While the families who came out here expected a certain level of comfort, the real experience was in enjoying the simple pleasures of country life, pitching in with chores, riding horses and campouts. There were the odd exceptions, of course; some guests just wanted to get away from the city and do nothing, and that was perfectly fine as well. Georgie tailored the package to suit the individual. It was this attention to detail, and respect for the client’s request, that had earned Stoney Creek Station its reputation.

  Parking the ute in the shed, she unloaded the supplies she’d picked up in town and carried them into the house. The main house was where she lived, but it held a dining room where guests could come for their meals if they felt like a change from their small self-contained cabin. There were also three guest rooms and a communal lounge area.

  Georgie had her own rooms at the rear of the house, her sanctuary after a long day of entertaining active children and fun-loving families.

  While the farm stay was the pretty packaging, the real money was in the livestock. Thanks to Harry’s family and their more than generous pricing of the property, and the fact Stoney Creek already had an established stock breeding program, she had been able to secure a loan with the bank and had renovated the main house as well as built cabins for guest accommodation. The whole venture had seemed to unfold without a hitch. Everything happening just the way she’d envisioned … if you overlooked the small hiccough of having a husband she didn’t want refusing to give her a divorce.

  The work dogs barked a happy welcome as she passed them. Stopping to say hello, she knelt down and rubbed Titch behind the ears, then climbed the few steps up to the verandah and pushed open the door with a weary sigh. She kicked off her shoes and collected a cold beer from her fridge, then flicked through the mail left on the kitchen bench for her. She looked up when a light tap sounded on the back door.

  ‘Hey, Matt. How’d everything go?’ she asked, heading for the fridge to grab a second beer and hand it to her foreman.

  ‘Hey yourself, Miss Socialite. How was the big smoke?’

  Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of her drink and he grinned in shared sympathy. ‘Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?’ he guessed, pulling the tab of the beer can with a satisfying crack.

  ‘You know me too well.’

  She sent him a grin and noticed that he eyed her with a look that seemed almost thoughtful. ‘No problems here?’ she asked, leaning back against the sink.

  ‘Nope, all quiet on the western front. We only had the one lot of guests, three fellas here for the fishing. They left yesterday, all with glowing comments, and made a booking for this time next year for six people. They reckon they have a few more mates who’ll want in next time.’

  ‘Excellent.’ A quiet sense of fulfilment filled her when guests left happy. It meant she and Matt were doing the job right. ‘Thanks for taking care of the place, Matt.’

  ‘No worries, just doing my job.’

  The two distinct sides to her business, the holiday stay and the cattle property, had both grown enormously over the past couple of years. She wouldn’t have been able to manage everything without someone as capable as Matt as her right hand.

  As Georgie looked at him now, Shannon’s comment suddenly came to her mind. Why had it never occurred to her that people might suspect something was going on between the two of them?

  He was good-looking, in a tough, sun-hardened country way. She realised with a start that she’d been staring at him and found he was eyeing her curiously.

  ‘Something wrong?’ he asked when she took a quick sip of her beer to hide her discomfort.

  ‘Nope.’

  What was she thinking? Matt was a mate. He was her work colleague and friend.

  The phone rang and Georgie jumped. Saved by the bell.

  ‘Thanks for taking up the slack while I was away,’ she said, moving past him as she headed toward the office. The sooner she put the weekend out of her mind, the sooner life would return to normal.

  Twenty-Two

  Georgie had planned to set aside the first week back from the wedding to tackle a list of maintenance jobs. Fencing needed attention in the back paddocks and she had to fix the tractor and pumps—messy jobs that even the most eager visitors didn’t f
ind terribly appealing. So it was more than a little annoying when a travel agent she hadn’t used before called to book a room for that week. No amount of reasoning could persuade the woman to get her client to change the dates, and when the woman offered to double the usual rate, the business side of her stepped in and she accepted. Who was she to turn away a customer with more money than sense?

  Now, instead of tackling the tractor like she’d planned on her first day home, she was putting the finishing touches to the largest of the guest suites in the main house. While it did at least make life somewhat easier having a guest staying in the house, she would have preferred them out in one of the cabins or down by the river in the camp ground, but the instructions had been clear: they wanted the best room in the house.

  Georgie flicked the last crinkle from the sky-blue bedspread and straightened the towels on the base on the bed. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tyres drew her eyes across to the window. The sheer material of the white curtains fluttered gently in the early morning breeze and the smell of lemon gums floated through the air.

  A four-wheel drive pulled up and she gave one last glance around the room, ensuring everything was perfect, then headed out to greet her guests.

  The deep murmur of voices carried towards her as she came down the front steps and walked towards the vehicle.

  ‘Hello, welcome to …’ Her smile faltered and the greeting died as she saw the man Matt had already come over to greet.

  ‘Hello, Georgie.’

  Matt’s gaze switched warily from Michael to Georgie.

  ‘I don’t have time for this, Michael. I have a guest due to arrive any moment,’ she dismissed tightly.

  ‘I can wait,’ he assured her amicably, leaning back against his car and folding his arms across his chest.

  ‘I don’t want you to wait, I want you to leave,’ she fumed, livid at his infuriating patience.

  ‘Georgie? Everything all right here?’ Matt asked.

  Dragging her angry gaze from Michael’s unruffled face, she realised she’d momentarily forgotten Matt’s presence. ‘Yeah … thanks. Why don’t you go and make a start on the tractor?’ After a brief nod, he turned his gaze upon Michael.

  ‘Nice to see you again, Matt,’ Michael said with only a hint of sarcasm.

  She noticed the two men swap a measured look. ‘I’ll be around if you need me,’ Matt said to Georgie without taking his eyes off Michael, clearly wondering what the hell he was doing back here after last time.

  ‘Michael, what are you doing here?’ Georgie asked wearily when Matt had walked away.

  ‘I needed a holiday,’ he said with a shrug.

  ‘Well, go somewhere else, I’ve got real guests to worry about.’

  ‘That’s not terribly professional of you, Georgie. I mean, what if I were a paying customer? That attitude of yours wouldn’t be very good for business.’

  ‘Well you’re not, so we don’t have to worry about it, do we?’ she snapped, her composure completely ruffled by his unexpected appearance.

  ‘Actually … I am,’ he told her with a smug grin.

  Georgie stared at him with a terrible sense of impending doom. ‘You are … what?’ she asked slowly.

  ‘A guest. I’ve booked for the next week. I believe you received my payment last night and I have a confirmation … So, which way to my room?’

  Georgie closed her eyes and counted very slowly to ten. When she opened them, her temper had not subsided.

  ‘I can’t believe you’d go this far, Michael. Don’t you have any destitute families to steal land from or something?’

  She saw that her taunt sparked at least a small reaction and felt a childish stab of glee.

  ‘How badly do you want that divorce, Georgie? If you’re positive that it’s over between us, you won’t have a problem with me being here … Otherwise you might want to save both of us a lot of drama and admit there’s still something there,’ he said with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Do what you want,’ she finally fumed, throwing her hands in the air. ‘You can stay a month, it’s not going to change a thing.’

  She didn’t like the twinkle of triumph she saw in his dark blue eyes. Turning on her heel, she walked back to the house. ‘But I hope you can entertain yourself, city boy, because I have too much to do to play babysitter,’ she called over her shoulder.

  She heard his footsteps and the door closing behind him. When she reached the hallway, she opened the door to his room and waited until he walked past. ‘This is your suite. Bathroom is through there and those doors open onto your own section of verandah where you can take your meals if you like. Otherwise come into the dining room by seven if you want to eat with Matt and me.’

  ‘Sounds cosy.’

  Georgie held his disgruntled gaze steadily. ‘You don’t have to eat with us,’ she shrugged.

  ‘I’ll be there with bells on,’ he assured her in a dry tone.

  Turning away, Georgie held back a tired sigh. This was so not what she needed right now. She was trying to forget about Michael Delacourt, not entertain him.

  Well, do your worst, Delacourt, she thought bitterly. One week and he’d finally be out of her life for good.

  Georgie heaved the toolbox into the back of her ute and wiped her sleeve across her forehead. Michael’s presence had one benefit—to work out her anger she’d thrown herself into the jobs and accomplished quite a lot.

  There’d been no sign of him all morning and she wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. Wiping her dusty hands on her jeans, she opened the door of her ute and whistled to Titch to get in before she settled behind the wheel. Reaching out to turn the key in the ignition, she jumped as the passenger side door opened and Michael slid into the seat next to her.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Thought I’d tag along. It is a farm-stay holiday,’ he reminded her, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

  ‘I’m fixing a fence … I’m sure it’s nothing you’d find terribly exciting.’

  ‘I disagree, it sounds fascinating. Let’s go.’ Rubbing Titch behind her ears, instantly winning the dog’s undying affection, he sat back and waited for her to drive.

  Clenching her teeth, Georgie bit back a curse. She put the ute into gear and headed down the dirt road away from the homestead. Glancing sideways, she noticed he’d changed out of the casual cargo pants and shirt he’d arrived in and was now wearing a pair of jeans, a button-down shirt similar to the one she had on, and an Akubra and work boots.

  Much to her chagrin, none of his clothes looked as though he’d bought them recently. They looked well-worn and comfortable.

  ‘You’ve done a great job here, Georgie,’ Michael said, breaking the silence inside the cabin. ‘Hardly looks like the same place.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve been lucky.’

  ‘I visited your website, I think you’re being modest. You’ve got rave reviews—that takes more than just luck.’

  She wasn’t sure why the warm approval in his voice made her feel so good, but it was unsettling enough to keep her quiet as she pondered it.

  They pulled up next to a section of fence that sagged and Georgie pulled on the handbrake. ‘We’re not too far from the river, if you feel like taking a look while I fix this,’ she offered.

  ‘Why don’t I give you a hand here, then you can come with me to the river?’

  ‘You might get dirty,’ she told him dryly, climbing out of the ute and shutting the door on his protest. Why did he have to follow her back here of all places? It had been hard enough trying to escape the memories of him when everywhere she’d looked she’d been reminded of the time they’d spent here. Throwing herself into work had been the only way she’d stayed sane. Now she’d have a whole new set of memories to ignore and little hope of erasing him from her life.

  Distracted by her thoughts, she startled when he appeared beside her and dragged the heavy toolbox towards him.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voic
e was weary.

  ‘Helping.’

  ‘Do you even know what we’re doing?’

  He glanced over at the fence then back to her with a gleam in his eye. ‘At a rough guess, we’re tightening the fence?’

  Peeling off the long-sleeved cotton shirt she wore over a singlet top, Georgie tossed it into the front seat of the ute and pulled on a pair of thick work gloves. ‘Make yourself useful then and bring over the toolbox.’

  Georgie dug through the tools and found the wire strainer before attaching it to the sagging fence.

  ‘This section looks a bit old,’ Michael pointed out, following the wire as it stretched off into the distance.

  ‘It’s some of the original fencing. I’ve been lucky; most of it was in good nick when I bought it—I haven’t had to replace any of it so far. If it floods it might be a different story though.’ She gave the handle of the wire strainer one more ratchet with a small grunt. ‘Who knows, maybe I’ll have sold it before then,’ she added, taking the tool off the fence and moving along the section to start again.

  ‘So, the big picture is still Tamban, huh?’ Michael asked from his position hunkered down next to the toolbox. She watched as he rubbed a handful of topsoil between his fingers, inspecting it idly.

  ‘Maybe. Any truth to the rumours it’s not making much of a turnover for your father?’ she asked, pinning him with a withering stare.

  A slight smile touched his mouth as he dropped his gaze to stare at the dirt on his fingertips. ‘I have no idea. I don’t speak to my stepfather,’ he emphasised, ‘about business.’

  ‘Why not? Didn’t he teach you all you know about pillaging?’

  ‘Despite what you think, Georgie, he and I don’t operate in the same manner.’ He got to his feet slowly and lifted his gaze. ‘We had a difference of opinion one too many times and now it’s just as easy not to speak.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’ She bent to pick up the toolbox, but his hand reached out and covered hers over the handle.