by Celia Aaron
“These are stolen.” I shook my head and glanced at the purloined cache. “Hey, this looks like—” I jumbled the wallets into one arm and felt my back pocket. “You took my wallet!”
She flinched, then a sly smile spread across her crimson lips. “Well, you can keep that one. No hard feelings, right?”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take a slow breath. Fake Scarlet was pressing every button I had, and reminding me why I was an introvert to begin with. “I’m not giving these to you, so you may as well close your little bag and go on your way.”
She wrinkled her nose and huffed.
“And you have to stop pretending to be Scarlet Rocket!”
Her eyebrows lifted, interest playing across her face. “You give me the goods, I’ll stop saying I’m Scarlet Rocket.”
“We already tried that. Your word is no good here.” I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and cradled the others in one arm.
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“No. We’re done.” I strode back toward the gallery. “I should turn you in. Call the cops. Tell everyone you’re an imposter.”
I had no real intention of doing any of that since my future was riding on the Scarlet Rocket name, but she grabbed my arm and yanked. “Wait.”
“What?” I glared down at her.
“Untwist your manties.” She eyed the money clip. “I’ll let you give the stuff back, but promise me you won’t call the cops.”
“Afraid to face the music?”
“No, just not a fan of jail cells.” She tore her gaze from the cash and met my eyes. “Please.”
I should’ve refused her, but her deep brown eyes inspired a special sort of acquiescence—one based on my dick doing the thinking for me. “I won’t tell.” I sighed. “I’ll just drop this stuff in the mail to the gallery tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She squeezed my forearm.
I stuffed the wallets in my coat pocket along with the cash and bracelet.
She sighed. “Can you at least give me cab fare back to my place?”
“What?” I shook my head at her. “You have absolutely no shame.” Heading back toward the gallery, I stepped out to hail a cab that was already coming to a stop.
“It’s only twenty bucks or so. Come on. Help me out.” She smiled up at me, her eyes glittering.
I wanted to tell her no, but then an idea struck me. “I’m not paying your entire fare, but let’s share.” Knowing where she lived could come in handy if I had any more problems from her.
The back door of the cab opened. “Willis!” My agent, Linda, stepped out. Her harsh, platinum blonde bob, oddly smooth skin for her age, and black cat-eye glasses were unmistakable. She slammed the cab door and grabbed me, dotting air kisses on each cheek. She smelled like a liquor cabinet, but I didn’t judge. She was one of the best agents in New York, and I wasn’t about to second-guess my luck in landing her.
Her eyes cut to the side. “And this must be Scarlet Rocket.” She winked at me and grabbed Fake Scarlet for the same air kiss treatment. “Honestly, Willis, you should have at least told me. I’m your agent after all.”
“Told you what?” I reached for the cab door, but it pulled away. Great.
“That you’d found someone to play Scarlet Rocket.” She took Fake Scarlet’s hands and held them out. “You are the perfect actress for this. The hair, the eyes, the style.”
“Thanks.” Fake Scarlet smiled and gave me a sideways glance.
Devious little minx.
I couldn’t get my bearings. “How did you even know—”
“Oh, please darling. I’m Linda Carnavatta. There isn’t a thing that goes on in this city that I don’t know about. Your actress debuted last weekend to rave reviews. When I heard she was at the gallery tonight, I couldn’t pass up a chance to see her in action.” Linda shouldered what appeared to be some sort of faux fox pelt with ruby eyes. “And she’s perfect. I can’t believe you pulled this off without any help from me.” She patted my cheek a little too hard. “But it’s brilliant, and it works.”
“No, you’ve got this all wro—”
“I’m so pleased that you think I’m up to the task of being Scarlet Rocket.” Fake Scarlet beamed and clasped Linda’s hand. “It’s really a dream job for me.”
Linda raised a brow. “Don’t oversell it. That’s part of Scarlet Rocket’s allure. Sexy but aloof. Great at giving advice, but needing none herself.”
Fake Scarlet dropped her hand and straightened, lifting her chin with what I realized was Fake Scarlet’s signature confidence.
“Much better, my darling.” Linda nodded. “That’s the show people will pay to see.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I grabbed Linda’s arm and pulled her away from the imposter. “This isn’t what you think. This is a fake Scarlet. Don’t you see?” I realized my words were insane babble, but how could I explain that Fake Scarlet was…well, fake in the fakest sense of the word? “She’s a con artist, not an actress.”
Linda leaned over and peeked at Scarlet, who stood behind my back. When Linda straightened, she said, “She’s perfect.”
“Did you hear what I just said?” The urge to grab her and shake some sense into her seemed like a bad move. I managed to keep my hands to myself, barely. “She’s a con. A thief. An imposter!”
“And what are you?”
I let my head loll back on my shoulders and stared up at the inky night sky. No stars to be seen. “I’m a blogger.”
“No, you’re an artist. You write. You’ve written a wonderful book that will no doubt help thousands of people, hopefully millions of people, reach their relationship goals. Your blog has already helped so many. Now, it’s my turn. Let me help you. Trust me.”
I met her gaze. “I trust you. But she’s a different story.”
She smiled and patted my cheek, gently this time. “The different stories are the very best ones.” Sweeping past me, she pulled a card from her tiny handbag and gave it to Fake Scarlet. “Call me in the morning, and I’ll have legal send you a contract. We’ll also need to set up a meeting with all three of us to discuss the game plan. Until then, I expect you to be on your best behavior.” She held up a hand to hail a cab. “And I should warn you, my darling. I’m an old hand at trickery and games. As my mother always said, ‘Don’t kid a kidder.’ Are we clear?”
Fake Scarlet nodded. “Yes. What’s the pay?”
Linda leaned closer, the two women speaking in hushed tones as my blood pressure rose. After a few more murmured words, they shook.
“Good.” Linda stepped away from the curb as a cab pulled up.
“Where are you going?” I sounded like a lost child, the world moving too fast for me to keep up.
“Miriam Gallant is exhibiting inside. You aren’t my only client, you know?” She sashayed toward the gallery. “Ciao for now, my darlings.”
Fake Scarlet—though now I supposed she was just Scarlet—looped her arm through mine. “Looks like you’ll be paying my cab fare after all.”
4
Fake Scarlet
He scooted to the far side of the cab and eyed me like I was some sort of wild animal. I slid in and closed the door, the familiar smell of sweat, some sort of old food, and an underlying sour odor that seemed to reside in half the cabs in New York meeting my nose.
“Where to?” the cabbie grunted.
I stared at Willis.
He stared back.
The cabbie let out an irritated sigh.
“Give him your address.” Willis rubbed his tense jaw.
“Give him yours.”
“Give address or get out.” The cabbie had run out of patience in all of five seconds.
“Fine.” I rattled off an address.
We moved away from the curb.
Willis seemed to relax a little but kept stealing sidelong glances at me.
I plastered on a sweet smile. “I won’t bite.”
“What’s your real name?” He pulled at his dress shirt col
lar, although it was already unbuttoned at his throat. His dark hair hung a little too far over his ears, as if he’d missed a few appointments with his barber. Shaggy, handsome, and pissed at me, his glances turned to glares.
“I told you. I’m Scarlet Rocket.” I crossed my legs at the knee.
He looked at my legs, then winced as if angry at himself for doing it. “Stop playing games. You’ve already fooled my agent with your little song and dance. Who are you, really?”
I tsked and turned to look at the passing buildings, the people strolling along the sidewalks in the cool spring air. “What does it matter? You need me to be Scarlet Rocket. That’s who I am.”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?” I caught his angry glare and returned it.
“Evasive.”
“Are you always taciturn and grumpy?”
His eyes widened. “I’m not.”
“You’ve been mean-mugging at me since the gallery.”
“Because you stole my name.” His voice rose.
I had no reason to egg him on, but I rather enjoyed it, so I kept it up. “Your name isn’t Scarlet Rocket.”
He balled his hands into fists, then splayed his fingers wide and rubbed them down his pants legs. “You know what I mean.”
“You don’t own that name.”
“Hey, cut the shit.” He turned to face me. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you pretended to be Scarlet Rocket. Why’d you do it, anyway?”
I shrugged. Wasn’t it obvious?
His right hand felt along the bulge in his suit coat. “So your sticky fingers would go unnoticed?”
“Tell him what he’s won, Johnny!” I grinned.
“Don’t steal from people. Get a job.”
“I just did.” I lightly elbowed him in the ribs. “With your agent.”
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is a nightmare, and now Linda has bought into it.”
“You talking to me or yourself?”
“Well, since you’re me now, I guess both or neither.”
“Now you’re getting it, Sparky.”
“Stop calling me Sparky.” He dropped his hand to his lap.
“What’s wrong with Sparky?”
“It’s not my name.”
“Come on, if we’re going to be doing this whole Milli Vanilli thing together, we may as well be friendly.”
“We aren’t doing a thing together.” His eyes darted to my legs again. Clearing his throat, he said, “There isn’t a ‘we,’ so knock it off.”
“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it…” I sealed my lips and ignored the slight sting of rejection. A sting that shouldn’t even exist. What Willis thought of me wasn’t important. I didn’t know him. And I didn’t need him beyond the short con that had just turned into more with a shake of his agent’s hand.
His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. I couldn’t make out the words in the text he read, but with the way he mumbled curses and stabbed the buttons to darken the screen, he didn’t like them.
“Look.” He took a deep breath. “If Linda is right—and she’s never steered me wrong—then you pretending to be Scarlet may be a good idea going forward.”
“Did she just get onto you via text?” I couldn’t stow my smile.
“Never mind that.” He slid his phone into his pocket.
That’s a yes.
“Linda has my best interests at heart. I mean, my interests are her interests since she works on commission.” He bounced his head on the head rest. “Obviously. Anyway, she got me a great book deal except for this one snag.”
“The snag where you pretend to have a vag?”
He nodded. “That’s the one.”
“Did she also notice that you’re a mess whenever you have to, you know, go out in public?”
“No I’m not.”
I gave him an overdone elevator look. “Wrinkled, mismatched, disheveled, and flustered—you look like…” I tapped my red nail on my chin. “A writer, and while that may play great around your smarty-pants friends, it doesn’t work at events. And definitely not the sort of events Scarlet Rocket would attend.”
He frowned down at his clothes. “I think they look all right.”
“They don’t.”
“It doesn’t matter. No one knows who I am. You’re the one who has to look good.”
I scooted closer. “Do I?”
“Do you what?” He held my gaze, surprising me.
“Look good?”
A tingle shot through me when his eyes flickered along my body, down to my heels and back up again.
“Didn’t Linda tell you that Scarlet’s stock in trade was confidence?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think you already know the answer to that question.”
“I do, but I want to hear what you think.”
He leaned closer, the unexpected heat in his eyes destroying the nerdy teddy bear persona I’d painted for him. “Stop toying with me. You already got what you wanted, Scarlet.” Venom dripped from the word, but he seethed with more than just irritation. Lust—the one heady concoction that could bind complete strangers—swirled around us.
“What’s it like? To create a woman and have her come to life?” I couldn’t leave it alone. That’s why I was trouble, always had been. “Is it a rush? Am I everything you wanted?”
He leaned down until his lips were only inches from mine. A curl of heat licked down my body and ended between my thighs.
His eyes bored into mine. “Who are you?”
The cab stopped.
“See you around, Sparky.” I bolted out the door, leaving Willis with the fare, and disappeared into a crowd of people exiting the nearest subway station.
Hanging by the subway entrance, I waited for the cab to pull away. Once I knew he was gone, I ducked into the stairway and started my long ride across the river to Jersey City.
The first train rocketed along beneath the city streets as my thoughts wandered back to Willis. His innocent layer that hid something more interesting underneath had charmed me, lulled me into a true flirtation instead of the one I’d worked at perfecting over the past year. It had to stop. Once I’d figured out how much he had riding on Scarlet Rocket, I’d realized he might be useful. He was a mark—a big one—and that was all. I needed to remember that or I’d fall into the same mistakes as Hannah.
Tired and emptyhanded, I wondered if my haul from the previous weekend would be enough to see us through the next few days.
5
Willis
I flopped onto my couch and tried to untangle the mental Kung Fu that Fake Scarlet had just laid on me. Confronting her had turned into what? Into Linda offering her a position as the real Scarlet Rocket. As me.
Thumping the back of my head onto the arm of the sofa didn’t seem to clear it any. That woman. She’d done some sort of sexy Jedi mind trick on me. Had to be. It was the only thing that explained my new reality. One where I wasn’t me. One where a beautiful woman who excelled at the five-finger discount had stepped in and taken on a starring role.
My phone buzzed. I pulled it out to find a text from Elias.
Elias: Did you turn her in to the cops or bone her in a back room? Tell me the truth.
Willis: Neither. Sadly.
Elias: Pussy.
Willis: Linda showed up at the gallery and offered her a job.
Elias: Are you shitting me?
Willis: I wish I was.
Elias: What kind of job?
Willis: As Scarlet Rocket.
The three dots bounced. Stopped. Bounced again. Stopped.
Willis: Spit it out, man.
Elias: I want to say that’s fucked up, but it’s also brilliant. I mean, that chick is like a little sex firecracker. Charisma and all that. If it weren’t for Claudia, I would have totally made a pass.
An unpleasant burr sank into my chest. The thought of Scarlet getting close to Elias like she’d done to me
in the cab had me tapping the keys faster than an angry tween.
Willis: She’s working with me now. Professional. Off limits.
I snorted. A pickpocket professional. That was her, all right.
Elias: Cool your jets. You’ve already called dibs. I was simply commenting on her assets.
Willis: It’s professional. That’s all.
Elias: Sure. Just use a condom, okay buddy?
Willis: Asshole.
Elias: Srsly? You’ve already made it to the fabled fifth base, aka ‘The Dugout’? Wow, you move fast.
Willis: Don’t you have a blonde to be bending in half right about now?
Elias: Yeah, good point. She’s giving me that hungry look that never ends well.
Willis: Get it. Night.
Elias: Night. Also, fuck you.
The faint light from my kitchen illuminated my respectable apartment, but instead of seeing the comfortable furniture and my threadbare writing chair, all I could see were flashes of red hair and a devious smile. Who was she?
I’d watched her after she’d dashed from the taxi like Cinderella at midnight. With a sneaking suspicion that she didn’t live in the swank building we’d pulled up to, I’d lost her in the crowd from the subway.
I drummed my fingers on my chest and examined the faint crack in the ceiling that ran through the light fixture and toward the exposed brick of the outer wall. She was a mystery. A beautiful puzzle. And fuck, the way she’d reacted to me in the cab. My cock came to life at the memory of her soft breath on my lips. Her vanilla scent had entangled me, and the red of her lips should have been a warning instead of an enticement. But she was the type of woman you couldn’t avoid, couldn’t look away from, and definitely couldn’t forget.
My cock agreed, tenting the ridiculous pleats on my pants. She’d been right about my clothes, though I’d never admit it to her. But while she’d been sizing me up, I’d been analyzing her right back. Problem was, I hadn’t been able to get much except for the mutual attraction.
“Down boy.” I shifted my hips, but my cock wasn’t in the mood to behave. She’d lit my fuse, and it wasn’t dying down. So, as with any normal twenty-seven-year-old male, it was time to jack it.