The Fiancé Trap: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  “I…ah…” Ally avoided his gaze. She bit her lip. “He wasn’t alone. There was a girl with him.”

  “So where is this girl? Who is she?”

  Ally’s throat moved. Her lips pursed. “She directed me here, and left. I don’t know her. I don’t know anyone in this town; I’m on vacation.”

  Some part of that last statement was a lie. “You just happen to be vacationing in Shepherd’s Crook?”

  “It pains me just as much as it does you that we’re in the same town. I never expected to see you again.” She crossed her arms and stared him straight in the eye. “I had no desire to see you ever again.” Her gaze darted to his lips then back to his eyes. A trace of pink flushed over her cheekbones, and somehow he knew he wasn’t the only one remembering that kiss at the stroke of midnight that New Year’s Eve, or the spectacular night of sex that followed in a quickly rented hotel room.

  Focus. He breathed in and out through his mouth.

  “So you don’t know him.”

  “No. I met him for the first time tonight.” She held his gaze.

  Telling the truth. The knife-edge of tension gripping Jace eased a fraction.

  “Can you give me a description of the girl?”

  “You should ask your son about that. When he’s sober.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go.”

  “I need to take some contact details for you.” Because there was no way Ally Moore was running out of his life again without a means of tracking her down. “Address and cell phone number.”

  She gave him the address of a house outside town, and a cell phone number. He tried the number, and heard it ring in the pocket of her jacket.

  “You didn’t trust me to give you the right number?” She frowned.

  “People lie.” He didn’t elaborate, seeing no need to justify his wariness. “How long are you in town?”

  “Just a week or two.”

  Rory groaned from the sofa. Jace needed to force another pint of water into his son and get him cleaned up. Much as he wanted to detain Ally, it would have to wait. “This isn’t over. I’ll call you.”

  “Of course.” Ally glanced around. “Can I just use your washroom before I leave?

  He opened the door of the sitting room and pointed down the corridor. “First door on the left.”

  She’d walked out on him before; she had it in her to do it again. He’d spent months trying to find the mysterious redhead after that crazy night. Had questioned friends and strangers alike who had been at the party and might have known her.

  To no avail. The nameless woman who’d turned his world upside down had vanished like steam into the ether. He’d thought he was finally cured of the obsessive itch to know more about her, but now it pricked at his skin, burrowed beneath, making him feel alive for the first time in months.

  Minutes later, she returned. He walked her to the door, then opened it wide and glanced out at her car. “You could have parked closer.”

  “I guess I could have.” She extended her hand. “Good night, Jace.”

  FOUR

  Rory stumbled in while Jace was seated in the kitchen, drinking coffee. White face, bloodshot eyes, all the signs of a guy suffering one hell of a hangover. His hands shook as he filled a large glass with water and drank it down in one gulp. It took a few minutes before he made eye contact. Then he sat down at the kitchen table opposite Jace and bit his bottom lip. “I screwed up.”

  “You did.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” White fingers gripped the glass.

  “Do you have a headache?”

  “The worst I’ve ever had.”

  “Good. You deserve the mother of all hangovers after last night.”

  Jace fetched painkillers from the kitchen cupboard and pushed a couple out of the foil. He poured coffee from the French press on the table, added milk and shoved it across the table to his son. “Take these.” He dropped the tablets into Rory’s outstretched palm.

  Rory tossed them back, then reached for the mug.

  “Now tell me about Ally.”

  Rory’s forehead creased in confusion. “Ally? I don’t know anyone called Ally.”

  “Ally brought you home last night.”

  Dawning realization. “Oh. The woman. Yeah, I sorta remember.”

  So he’d read her right. She had told the truth. Jace blew out a breath; tension he hadn’t even been aware of left his body in a rush. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that Ally had somehow tracked him down and engineered this meeting. He’d put his life on hold for months trying to find her to re-explore what they’d shared, to determine if the sexual connection between them had been a one-off, or was real. Only after exhausting every avenue to find her, had he given up and started dating again.

  He’d believed her last night, for the most part. But a sixth sense had come into play, warning that there were lies amongst the truth. The lurking possibility that she wasn’t what she seemed, that she’d targeted Rory in some twisted way to get back at him, couldn’t be dismissed on her say-so alone. Rory’s denial of knowing Ally was a huge relief.

  “She said you were stumbling along the road with a girl called Sophia. That she almost ran you both over.” He couldn’t keep his anger in check any longer. “What the hell were you thinking, Rory? You’re seventeen. I thought you were at home, sleeping, but instead you were out with some girl, getting smashed.” He didn’t need to ask Rory where he got the booze; a quick check of the kitchen cupboard had revealed the answer to that particular question. The bottle of Jack he’d been given last Christmas was conspicuously absent. “Who is this Sophia? Is she a girl from school? I tried finding out from you last night, but you weren’t making any sense. You need to check she got home okay.”

  “Sophia…” Rory looked stumped.

  “Sophia! The girl you were with last night. Ally said you were with a girl called Sophia.” Jesus, was this another lie? He rubbed his eyes. Being the sole parent to a teenager was a hell of a lot more complicated than being the parent of a toddler. He couldn’t understand why Rory was acting out the way he was. The relationship he thought they had seemed to be dissolving in lies and alcohol before his eyes.

  Jace breathed deep. “Just tell me the truth. What’s her name?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Rory swallowed. “She’ll be in trouble. I can’t get her in trouble. I have to call her to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Is she in your class?”

  Rory made eye contact. “No. She graduated. She’s nineteen. There’s stuff in her life—it’s complicated.”

  “Call her. Make sure she got home okay.”

  Rory took out his cell and left the room. The fact that he was seeing an older girl wasn’t much of a problem, but they shouldn’t be drinking. He needed to find out more about this girl, and lay down some rules.

  Rory came back into the room a few minutes later. “I called her. She’s fine.”

  Jace nodded. “Good.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” There was genuine contrition in Rory’s eyes. An opening, an opportunity to talk things through presented itself, and Jace wasn’t about to blow it by coming down heavy.

  “I don’t understand any of this. I need you to tell me what happened last night.”

  “I called her, like I said I would. To tell her I was going away for a week. And she said a few friends were getting together.” He chewed his fingernail. “They were going drinking. She asked me to come too.”

  “In someone’s house?”

  “Outside.”

  In a field. Sitting in a goddamned field, getting shitfaced drunk. Jace schooled his face neutral. All the details wouldn’t come out if he alienated Rory now. “Go on.”

  “I took the Jack. I knew it wouldn’t be missed and you’d be out for ages. I just wanted to spend time with her before I had to leave.” He looked down at the table. “I drank too much. The other guys went home, and we started back. I don’t remember much else.”

  “Who were these other guy
s?”

  “It was only the second time I met them. They’re brothers called Elliot and Joe. I don’t know their last name.”

  Jace did. The Marshall brothers were notorious in this small town. Neither had crossed the line into criminal behavior, but they were both on the police radar, spending their days hanging around town and their nights playing pool. Neither was old enough to legally drink, but they were doing it anyway.

  “I know those guys. I don’t want you hanging around with them.”

  Rory rubbed the back of his neck. He looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. “Okay.”

  “You could have been hit by a car. Anything could have happened to you.” Jace’s heart clenched at the possibilities. He owed Ally more than an apology; he owed her his genuine thanks for stopping. “I care about you. This isn’t the way to have a relationship with a girl. She shouldn’t have had to look after you like that.”

  “I thought you wouldn’t approve. Because she’s older.”

  “I’m not happy about your drinking so much you could hardly stand up. Or stealing booze. And hanging around with those guys isn’t an option—they’re wasters, and you have much more going for you than they do. But your girl is a different matter. I know she stayed with you and cared enough to make sure you got home okay. So I’d like to meet her. I want you to bring her over and we’ll have dinner.”

  Rory straightened. “You do?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “I guess I’m grounded. And the camping trip is off.”

  “No. The camping trip is still on. I want you to get out in the fresh air, be with your friends, and think about this. We’ll talk about it again, and organize a meet up with this girl when you get back.” He checked the time. “Go shower.”

  Once Rory was safely on the bus, Jace climbed into his car and drove. The events of the previous night had stirred up a potent mix of emotions, which was impossible to shake. Rory’s close call, staggering along a road outside of town. The unbelievable coincidence of his son’s savior and Jace’s one-time obsession being one and the same. And the riddle of the mysterious girl who vanished into the night, all combined into a headache-inducing fog Jace was desperate to shed.

  If it had been a workday, he’d have gone straight to his friend and business partner Ben’s office. But as it was the beginning of the weekend, Ben would be sitting out on his deck drinking coffee, catching up on the day’s news on his iPad, and smoking.

  Jace called into the store on the way to pick up four pecan-plaited pastries and, out of habit more than anything else, added a carton of milk. Living with a kid had taught him always to buy milk. Ben didn’t have that problem. He lived alone.

  He pulled up outside Ben’s house, grabbed the packages, and strolled around to the back door. As anticipated, he didn’t make it that far. Ben looked up from his iPad. “Hey! Good morning.”

  “I brought breakfast.” He dropped the bag of pastries on the table.

  “Great. Coffee’s on.” Ben held out his cup.

  Jace didn’t have to ask Ben how he took it—they’d been friends since they were five years old—there wasn’t anything they didn’t know about each other.

  Jace filled mugs and brought them back outside, then sank on the nearest chair.

  Ben peered into the bag, smacked his lips together in a sound of appreciation, and grabbed a pastry. “I was going to call you this morning; we have a situation brewing; Katy gave her notice.”

  Katy had been hired as a receptionist, but her role had expanded into being the heart of Carter Coffee Roasters. Suppliers and clients loved her. She ran the office like a military operation, making sure orders were filled and shipments made. She even kept the books. Losing her was the worst thing that could happen to the company.

  “What the hell.” Jace rubbed the back of his head. “Why? I thought she was happy. Is it money?”

  “No. It’s personal stuff. She saw the doctor last week, and she’s been diagnosed with cancer.”

  Jace groaned. Shit.

  “She’s starting treatment straight away. You know what her job is like, she does everything. She won’t be able to work at that level while she’s sick, and you know Katy, everything’s black and white with her. She said if she can’t fulfill her responsibilities, she has to resign.” Ben brushed flakes of pastry from his lap. “I told her we wouldn’t accept it, and that we’d talk to her next week about it.”

  “Good call.” Jace nodded. “We should have employed an assistant for her way before now. Someone to take up the slack. We would have been forced to if we’d employed an average worker rather than Superwoman. She’ll need money and her health insurance if she’s starting treatment. The stress of losing her paycheck is bound to affect her recovery too.”

  “I didn’t want to start throwing around solutions until we talked, but I knew we’d be on the same page,” Ben said. “So, what do you reckon? What sort of person do we need?”

  “We should talk to Katy about it on Monday. Get a better picture of her treatment plan. What was her reaction to your refusal to accept her resignation?”

  Ben pulled a face. “She teared up. She loves her job; it was hard for her to offer to leave. She’ll need to cut her hours. And there’ll be times when she’s not well enough to be in the office, but she’s hopeful of being strong enough to work on stuff from home. Her doctors say the long-term prognosis is good for a full recovery.”

  “In that case, let’s get someone to cover the bulk of her duties straight away. That should take the pressure off. We do a lot of the liaising with customers anyway. If, after treatment, she gets back into the job again, we can always divert the new person into different areas. We’d talked about building the online side of the business, so whoever we employ should be tech savvy.”

  “So, we’ll talk to Katy, then advertise for a new employee.” Jace swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Done.”

  “Rory get off on his trip okay?”

  “He was hungover. I had one hell of a night. On my way home after the meeting, I got a call. Rory had been picked up by a passing motorist—he was staggering all over the road, drunk as a skunk.”

  “What?” Ben frowned. “That’s not like him—what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know. He’s met a girl, and she introduced him to the wrong crowd.” Unease snaked through his insides. “We’ve been so busy the past couple of months, and I was away in Seattle for a few nights. I’ve never left him on his own, Ma has always stayed at our house, or he’s visited hers, but I should have...”

  “Hold on one second there, bud.” Ben held up a hand. “Rory is seventeen. How much attention did you or I get from our parents when we were his age?”

  “Not enough, obviously. I ended up making a girl pregnant, and you were a disaster.”

  “That’s harsh. Sure, I was wild, but look at me now; I have a good job, and I persuaded a fantastic woman to marry me. The fact she is talking divorce isn’t down to my parents—it’s my own damn fault.” Ben’s mouth twisted.

  “She’s talking divorce?” This was a new development, but one they had both seen coming. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am. One stupid move and I flushed my marriage down the toilet.” He scrunched his eyes together and rubbed his forehead. “I could blame drink—God knows I’d had a skinful that night—but the truth is worse. Being hit on by a twenty-two-year-old stroked my ego. I should have never let her buy me that drink, and when she followed me to the john I should have pushed her away, because telling her I was married fed the flames rather than dousing them. I don’t know why I kissed her, and Jesus, if I were back there again, I’d do things differently. I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone straight home and confessed.”

  “Yes, you would.”

  Ben shot Jace a wounded look. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “I’m not saying you wouldn’t have kissed that girl, I’m saying that you would have told Cher if you had. You were always honest
. Lying isn’t in your DNA. You were together for five years, no one is a saint, and after you kissed that girl, you were out of there like a bat out of hell. Have you managed to talk to Cher about it?”

  “She won’t see me. She won’t take my calls, or answer my texts. I haven’t seen her since that night, and her mother won’t let me in the house. She sent divorce papers today.” Ben lit a cigarette. “I’m not signing them. I love her, I just have to find a way to show her how sorry I am, and to persuade her to give me another chance. I can’t face the thought of life without her.”

  “I had another shock last night.” Jace tore off a piece of pastry, popped it in his mouth and chewed. “The stranger who saved Rory turned out to be not such a stranger after all.”

  Ben leaned forward. “Who was it?”

  “A woman called Ally Moore. A gorgeous redhead.” He stared at Ben. “The redhead.”

  Dawning realization on his friend’s face. “The New Year’s Eve redhead?”

  He’d talked of no one else for months. Had obsessed over finding her so often his friend eventually called a timeout on any discussion about her. Now she was in his life again the fascination was back, stronger and more compelling than ever—despite the fact that he was in a relationship with another woman.

  Jace nodded.

  “Holy shit.”

  Ally was lying in bed, contemplating getting up when there was a rap on the front door. She threw on a robe and padded across the polished floorboards, through the living room, to answer it.

  An old guy who could only be described as weatherbeaten stood there holding a wicker basket.

  “Ally, right?” His voice was gravel-rough. “I’m Abe. The owner.” He shoved the basket into her hands. “I meant to catch up with you yesterday, but you were out when I called.” He waved across the yard to another house a little distance away. “I just live over yonder. Anyway…” He kept his gaze fixed to hers, as if embarrassed to be talking to a woman in her pajamas. “I just want to welcome you to the house, and, uh, hope you have everything you need.”