Fool Me Once (First Wives Series Book 1)

by Catherine Bybee

  “What is it he said he does for a living?”

  Lori tossed the end bits of the tomatoes into the garbage disposal and moved to the carrots. “Data processing . . . of some kind.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it.”

  “Huh.” Danny stood over the stove, stirring the rice. Inside the oven was the chicken he’d marinated most of the day. “It doesn’t fit his personality.”

  Lori sliced the carrots, concentrating hard to miss her fingers. Nobody liked bloody salad. “What doesn’t fit?”

  “Data anything. He seems like the kind of guy who works with his hands.”

  “Isn’t data processing working with your hands?”

  “You know what I mean.” Danny removed two plates from the cupboard.

  Carrots are done . . . what dressing? Lori opened the refrigerator and found vinaigrette and a pear. “Do I have walnuts?”

  “What?”

  She opened her pantry door to look. “Never mind.”

  “I’m just saying . . . it doesn’t really fit.”

  Along with the chocolate chips she’d bought a good six months before, when she was on a baking kick, she found the walnuts. The expiration date was still one month out. “Score.”

  “Are you listening to me?”

  “Yes.” She looked up and couldn’t for the life of her remember the last thing Danny had said. “No . . . what were you saying?”

  “Reed. He doesn’t completely measure up.”

  The walnuts in her hands forgotten, she paused. “Measure up to what?”

  “Where did you two meet?”

  “On the cruise in Barcelona.”

  Danny leaned against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “Barcelona . . . as in Spain?”

  “Yeah, I know . . . crazy, right? What are the chances of that?”

  “Probably like point a zillion zeros to one.”

  “That’s what I thought. But you never know.”

  Danny had that look in his eye that reminded her of their father. The one that made her sit back and wonder what she’d said wrong. “What?”

  He shook his head. “So, am I sleeping on the couch now, or can I keep the guest room?”

  She grinned. “Has it been two weeks?”

  “Yeah, not that you’d know it. I’ve been here more than you have.”

  “When are you due to hit the fisherman sea of Mexico?”

  “When I get there.” Danny pushed off the counter, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. “Your choice, guest room or couch. But I need to crash here a little longer.”

  “What do you mean by need?”

  “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” Danny stared her down.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Never said you couldn’t.”

  When had her brother grown up enough to put someone else before himself?

  “My couch is meant for sitting . . . not sleeping.”

  He smiled and walked away.

  Later that night, while staring at the ceiling and hearing the snores of her brother in the other room, Lori closed her eyes and thought about Reed’s hands. Rough, working hands. She thought of her own in comparison. Soft hands of a woman who worked with paper and a computer. Reed didn’t talk about his work at all. Or maybe she wasn’t being a reciprocating girlfriend who asked enough questions. Either way, rough hands usually equated to harder work, not data processing.

  Falling asleep didn’t come easy, and when she woke in the morning, she’d almost forgotten what had kept her awake.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Reed rolled his special pen in his hand while he glared at the flash drive microphone sitting on his desk. What the hell was he doing?

  Was this how good cops turned bad?

  One case? One twist of ethics that turned them into douchebags playing for the wrong team?

  At some point in this investigation he’d sold a tiny bit of his soul. Because the more he learned about Lori and her gaggle of rich and lonely friends, the more he felt for them. And who would have thought that was possible?

  God, what the hell was wrong with him?

  He knew sleeping with her had been a bad idea the first time he’d done it. He couldn’t help himself. And now . . . he didn’t want to help himself. He felt like an addict every time he drove to the city. One last time, he’d chant. Plant the bug, make his excuses . . . then she’d smile and the lawyer in her would stop at the door and the flirt wearing a thong would come out.

  Yeah, he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Because Ruslan was gunning for her.

  And Sasha was on to her . . . and him by now.

  Instead of trying to investigate a way to nail Wentworth with information gathered from Lori and her gaggle of friends, Reed was trying to figure out how to keep their secrets that he had yet to learn.

  He closed his eyes and cussed the universe.

  It didn’t matter what side of the political fence the public servant sat on, they all did one thing very, very well . . . they raised money.

  Wearing a slim-fitting black cocktail dress with an expensive pair of red-bottom shoes that Sam had bought her for her last birthday, Lori stood with Gabi and Hunter Blackwell, wineglasses in their hands. Most of the time Sam, and sometimes her husband, would attend these events with her, but Sam and Blake were in Europe. So tonight, Gabi, a recruiter for Alliance, and Lori were there in support of Shannon.

  Paul Wentworth was working toward his second term as governor, and he was helping the rich part with their money.

  He’d asked Shannon to attend the event to show the world that there weren’t any hard feelings between him and his ex-wife.

  “This can’t be easy for her,” Gabi whispered while watching Shannon speak with a few members of Paul’s staff.

  “She didn’t have to say yes.”

  “That isn’t the kind of person she is,” Gabi said. “Is she pursuing her photography at all?”

  “I don’t think so. She still has her studio and storefront, but she’s never there.”

  “I understand taking time after the divorce, let things settle, but it’s time to move on.”

  Hunter leaned in, kept his voice low. “Maybe she needs a few blind dates.”

  “I can’t imagine she’s hurting for invitations to dinner,” Gabi told her husband.

  Hunter slid a hand around his wife’s waist and kissed the top of her head. “A lot of men are intimidated by beauty and success.” He lowered his voice so only they could hear. “Maybe your marriage service should have a sideline dating service.”

  “Isn’t the Internet full of those?” Gabi asked.

  Hunter looked above many of the heads in the room. “I doubt there are very many people in this room on Tinder outside of those serving food.”

  Lori swept the room with her gaze. She liked the idea. Out of the ashes of Alliance marriages, there was a need to acclimate the women, and a few good men, to the dating world.

  Lori’s eyes flittered to Hunter, who lifted his eyebrows as if to say, hey, my idea has merit.

  “I guess we know why you’re so rich,” Lori teased him.

  He waved his hand in the air. “I won’t even ask for a finder’s fee.”

  Shannon looked up, met Lori’s eyes with a silent plea.

  She set her drink down. “Looks like I’m needed.”

  Lori approached her friend with purpose. Go in, extract, keep it polite.

  Shannon stood among three men and one woman, people Lori didn’t know.

  Lori walked up to Shannon, placed a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Shannon, you wanted to speak with the Blackwells before they left, right?”

  The conversation she’d interrupted dissipated.

  “That’s right. Thank you so much. I’m sorry.”

  The shortest of the three men spoke up. “I’d still like to know how you feel about—”

  “Lovely chatting with you,” were Shannon�
��s parting words.

  “Thank you,” Shannon said under her breath as they walked away.

  “That bad?”

  “Some people gossip more than the tabloids.”

  They approached Gabi and Hunter, and Shannon made a show of hugging Gabi and accepting a kiss to the cheek from Hunter.

  “How are you holding up?” Gabi asked.

  “I’m all right. I miss some of these people.”

  “And the ones you don’t?” Hunter asked.

  Shannon smiled. “I don’t have to talk to them anymore.”

  “There is always a bright side,” Gabi said.

  Hunter stopped a waiter walking by and handed Shannon a glass of wine. “Now tell me, why are you doing this alone? I know a lot of men who would love to be by your side . . .”

  “I don’t—”

  “Even if it’s just for show,” he whispered with a wink. “Probably put lots of wagging tongues and inappropriate questions in their place.”

  “I . . .” Shannon glanced over to where her ex-husband was standing. “Maybe next time.”

  Hunter laughed. “Check with these ladies, I’m sure by the time you’re ready, they’ll have a pool of men prepared to help.” With that, Hunter made an excuse and left the three women there to talk in his wake.

  “What was that all about?” Shannon asked.

  “I think he’s trying to find more work for us,” Gabi said.

  “I really like the idea,” Lori told her.

  “What idea?” Shannon asked.

  “A dating service.”

  “Don’t you already do that?”

  Lori found her glass and tipped it in Shannon’s direction. “You know the answer to that.”

  “Well, not for me. I don’t want to date anytime soon.”

  “And how would tonight have looked if you had someone hanging on your arm willing to say the right things to those who ask?” If nothing else, Lori would like to see if Paul had any emotions when it came to his ex-wife. As long as Shannon wasn’t getting on with her life, there was no way of really knowing if Paul ever had a thing for her. If he didn’t, fine . . . but if he did . . .

  “Hmmm . . .”

  Lori’s smile met Shannon’s.

  “Heads up, ladies. Incoming,” Gabi announced.

  Paul, in his perfectly polished suit and shined shoes, took a spot behind Shannon. “Thank you for coming,” he said to her.

  Lori saw her draw a fortifying breath before she turned to him with a practiced smile. “Hello, Paul.”

  He kept an appropriate distance, his smile wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t full of warmth either.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’m doing well.”

  There were people watching the two of them, and the noise around them came to a low murmur.

  “Would you tell me if you weren’t?” he asked quietly.

  “I’m not your responsibility any longer, Paul.” Shannon’s reply was spoken softly.

  His jaw tightened and the next words he uttered were close to Shannon’s ear and only heard by her.

  Her attempt at a smile was weak as he turned and walked away.

  Oh, damn, was that moisture in Shannon’s eyes? “My brother cleans up really well. Next time, we come armed.”

  Shannon cracked a smile.

  “Only a few more minutes and we can get you out of this room. Just hold your head up,” Gabi coached Shannon.

  “It’s been two years. This should have been easy.”

  “Men never make things easy.”

  “This from a happily married woman living the dream.”

  Gabi rolled her eyes. “That man never makes my life easy.”

  “Yeah, but he makes it worthwhile,” Lori chimed in.

  Gabi blushed.

  Noise around them said people were starting to move around again.

  Gabi tugged Shannon away.

  “I’ll meet up with you.” Lori needed a quick word with the governor.

  As the other women worked their way to the ladies’ room, Lori squared her shoulders and started toward the man who had upset her friend.

  “Excuse me?”

  A woman she’d never seen before cut off Lori’s path. Tall, dark hair, with high cheekbones and full lips. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Lori asked.

  The woman looked at the ground. “No, I’m sorry . . . are you Lori Cumberland?”

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “I’m Susan.”

  Out of habit, Lori glanced at Susan’s left hand to see if there was a ring molding on her finger. When approached at these events, most of the time it was a referral.

  “Can I help you, Susan?”

  “Maybe.” Susan lowered her head and voice. “I heard from a dear friend that you might be able to help me.”

  “You’re in need of a divorce?”

  “No.” Susan smiled. “I need a husband.”

  At first, Lori wondered if maybe Hunter was working the room, drumming up clients for the nonexistent dating service.

  “Uhm . . .”

  “You know, a temporary one. I was told Alliance could help.”

  Light shone as the pieces fell into place. “Oh.”

  “Are my resources correct?”

  “Maybe. But I’m not the one to talk to. Do you have a card? I can have someone call you.”

  The woman blew out a sigh. “Oh, thank goodness.” With long, red fingernails, she picked out a card in her handbag and gave it to Lori.

  The name Susan Wilson was printed on plain gray cardstock with a phone number.

  “This is you?”

  “Yes . . . and no. I have to explain in private.” Susan looked around them. “I’m sure you understand.”

  Lori smiled, tucked the card away. “Of course. Someone will get back to you.”

  With a nod, Susan walked away.

  When Lori looked up, Paul was no longer in sight.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When another week passed without so much as one sighting of Ruslan and his men, Lori shooed off the bodyguard.

  “Neil isn’t going to be pleased,” Cooper told her as he tried to talk her into changing her mind.

  “Good thing Neil’s opinion isn’t needed here. I might feel a little guilty if I thought you’d be out of work, but I know that isn’t the case.”

  “The Harrisons will be back in a week. I can hang until then.”

  Lori felt the need to pack Cooper a lunch to send him on his way. “And I’ll talk to Sam in a week. Sooner if I need to. Now c’mon . . . you’re a young guy. I’m sure there’s some hottie out there waiting to spend time with you.”

  Lori stood behind her desk and checked the time. Her next client was in five minutes. She’d scheduled the time to buzz Cooper off between clients to avoid argument.

  It wasn’t working.

  “Just because everything is silent doesn’t mean there aren’t things in play.”

  “That may be, but my life has been interrupted enough because of one man’s weak threats.”

  The intercom on her phone buzzed. “Your nine o’clock is here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Lori—”

  “No. I appreciate your concern, but the truth is, you’re not needed. I’m either here or at home, or with Reed. I don’t need a driver or someone hovering over me like I’m some kind of head of state. I’m a divorce attorney with a few high profile clients. That’s it. Ruslan Petrov has no real beef with me.” Or so she’d been telling herself for the past week. The last straw was when she went to the nail salon to have her fingers and toes painted and her regular girl kept eyeing Cooper at the door.

  Lori could never be one to marry one of these rich men with all their rich problems and security.

  “Call Neil, do what you have to, but no more.”

  Cooper held his hands up. “Fine. But if anything changes. You feel the hair on your neck stand up, you call me!”

  Lori grinned. “You’re a good guy, Co
oper. Now go find your hottie you’ve been neglecting and make it up to her.”

  The slight gleam in his eye told her she’d hit a nerve.

  He walked out of her office, his cell phone already to his ear.

  She pressed the intercom on her desk. “Okay, Liana, send Mrs. Maghakian in.”

  Lori opened a legal pad and waited for her new client.

  Wearing a dark blue pantsuit and a simple pair of pumps that complemented the Prada purse, the woman walked in with dark sunglasses hiding most of her face, her hair disguising the rest.

  Lori walked around her desk, extended her hand.

  The closer she got to the woman, the more makeup Lori noticed. “Mrs. Maghakian, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was as weak as her handshake.

  “Can we get you something to drink, coffee? Water?”

  “No, your secretary already offered. I’m fine.”

  With that, Liana left the office.

  “Please, sit. Or if you’d like, we can talk over here.” Lori indicated a couch and chair setup she’d placed in her office to help her clients relax. She’d learned long ago that half her job was being a therapist to her clients. Many, like the skittish one in front of her, often needed time to open up about their marital problems. Even if they’d spent time on a marriage counselor’s couch, things took a turn when you were sitting across from an attorney to discuss ending your failed marriage.

  Mrs. Maghakian turned toward the couch and sat.

  Lori gave her the minutes she needed before taking a seat across from her.

  Back rod-straight, the woman looked everywhere in the office except toward Lori. For a moment, Lori wondered if she’d say anything at all before bolting out the door.

  Then, with a lift of her chin, Mrs. Maghakian removed her sunglasses, revealing the reason for all the cosmetics. Makeup might have covered up the color of the bruise, but the swelling and broken capillaries in her left eye required more than powder and paste.

  “I need to leave him before he kills me.”

  Lori’s blood chilled.

  “Or I kill him.” Mrs. Maghakian leveled her gaze to Lori’s.

  Lori took her work home with her all the time. It was part of the job. There were only so many hours in the day, and then you had face-to-face meetings and days spent in court. The paperwork she needed to go over alone was more time-consuming than any typical day job. Her paralegal secretary was one of the best, and flagged what needed her attention first and what could wait. When a case like Ana Maghakian’s walked through the door, Lori was reminded why she chose the law as her profession.