Fool Me Once

by Mona Ingram

  Settling into a comfortable chair at the bar, she ordered American coffee and a Remy. She didn’t enjoy gambling…a fact she had taken great pains to hide when she worked on her piece about European casinos. During the assignment, this had always been her favorite time; watching the actions of the international crowd who considered their vacation incomplete without a visit to the casino.

  “Excuse me, aren’t you Olivia MacMillan?” A tall, elegantly dressed Englishman stood by her table, a tentative smile on his face. “I’ve been trying to figure out where I’ve seen you before, and it finally registered. I’ve read your work in WorldView.” Pale blue eyes smiled down at her. “May I join you for a few moments? My luck seems to have deserted me this evening.”

  Olivia assessed him rapidly. Blonde hair contrasted pleasingly with a deep tan. This was no office-bound businessman. If he was aware of her scrutiny, he gave no indication. She indicated the chair opposite. “One can hardly refuse a countryman.” She smiled warmly, extending her hand. “Please call me Olivia. And you are?”

  “Dirk Grant.” He folded his lanky frame into the chair next to her, his eyes making a quick sweep of the casino as he did so. “At the risk of sounding forward, are you with someone?”

  “Yes, I am.” Olivia looked toward the baccarat table, but Josh was no longer in his seat. “He’s playing poker in one of the private rooms.”

  “Then you could be in for a boring evening.”

  “Not at the moment.” Olivia grinned. “Actually I was sitting here thinking about how much I enjoy people watching. I like to think one can tell a lot about people by how they react to situations.” She paused. “I suppose that makes me a bit of a voyeur, but in my business it’s important to watch for subtle signs.” She picked up her coffee. “Enough about me. Are you here on vacation?”

  He leaned back in his chair and ordered a drink from a passing waiter. “It may look that way, in fact I hope it does, but I’m actually studying the operation of various casinos. A group of businessmen I know in Manchester have applied for a gaming license and I’m here unofficially, seeing how they do things.” He grinned. “After all, the Europeans have been doing it, and doing it well for a good number of years.”

  “In that case, you must meet Gerard.” She twisted around in her seat, scanning the gaming tables. “He runs this casino. I don’t see him right now, but I’d be happy to introduce you.”

  “No, no, no.” He held out his hands, palms outward. “We’re keeping our plans quiet until everything is in place. The partners wanted me to see the other operations from the point of view of a customer. If I introduce myself, I’d lose that opportunity.”

  “Yes, I can see how that would change things.” She turned back to him. “So what do you do when you’re not checking out casinos?”

  “I have a small consulting firm. I do feasibility studies for new businesses. Small hotels, restaurants and the like. It’s mostly demographics coupled with economics.”

  Olivia tilted her head to one side, looking at him curiously. “You don’t look like a numbers-cruncher to me.” She cupped the bowl of her brandy snifter, swirling the liquid thoughtfully. “No, I would have pegged you as more of an outdoors type. I don’t know, something to do with a sports team, or a surveyor, or an estate manager.”

  The blue eyes crinkled. “Always the journalist. Speaking of which, tell me about your visit to Afghanistan. That was a remarkable series of articles, by the way.”

  Olivia warmed to the subject, relating in equal measure the hardships and the joys of her recent assignment. Dirk encouraged her, asking insightful questions which she was only too happy to answer.

  The last of her coffee was cold when she drained the cup. Glancing at her watch, her eyes widened. “My goodness, it’s one thirty. I’ve been jabbering away for well over an hour.” In truth, it had been enjoyable having such an attentive audience. She stifled a yawn and shot him an apologetic glance. “Josh warned me he might be late. I think I’ll go home without him.”

  Dirk stood up, offering his hand. “Allow me to accompany you. I’ll be getting a taxi anyway. I can drop you off.”

  He assisted her to her feet, holding her hand for a fraction longer than was necessary. “I’d appreciate that, thanks.” She looked toward the private gaming area. “I wonder how he’s doing?” she murmured softly.

  “Your friend?”

  “Yes.” She glanced again toward the roped off area, unaware of the longing in her voice. “I’m guessing I won’t be seeing him for a few hours yet.”

  The doorman secured a taxi and Dirk settled her in the back seat. Olivia gave directions, and within minutes they were at the villa.

  Dirk jumped out and ran around to the other side, opening her door. “Thank you for the company,” he said, offering her a hand. “I enjoyed hearing about your adventures.”

  “I suppose I should apologize for boring you like that, but I don’t often have such a good audience.” She smiled into his eyes. “Goodnight, Dirk.”

  He watched silently as she disappeared down a path lit by small garden lights, and entered the house.

  “That Josh Morgan is one lucky bastard,” he growled to himself, getting back into the taxi. “I hope he knows that.”

  * * *

  Olivia slipped off her shoes and made her way through the silent house. Light fixtures mounted low on the walls spilled pools of light on the tiled floors. In the master bedroom, the huge king-sized bed had been turned down, pillows plumped invitingly.

  A gentle breeze stirred the sheer curtains that hung loosely between the bedroom and the balcony. Olivia stepped outside and inhaled the sweetly scented air. She fingered the ring on her left hand, overwhelmed by a sense of unreality. Here she was, in a breathtaking villa overlooking the Mediterranean and she was alone. She shook her head sadly. Even if Josh were here, she would still be alone. For hadn’t he made it clear that there would be no lasting involvement? But then she didn’t want to become involved with him…did she? She looked down at the large diamond and laughed, but it was a dry, mirthless sound. Was she being honest with herself? Probably not. But one thing she did know for sure. If she wanted to avoid a broken heart all she had to do was pack her suitcase and go home. But that wouldn’t be fair to Josh. He’d made his position clear from the outset, and she had agreed to The Rules as she now thought of them. She gave a soft snort of derision. Everybody knew that even the strictest rules were made to be broken.

  * * *

  Josh gathered up his winnings and nodded to the remaining players. He stood up slowly, aching from the long hours of concentration. On his ranch, he thrived on long work days and little sleep. During roundup he could ride for hours searching for strays and not feel this exhausted. He made his way into the public area, deserted now in the early morning hours. Vacuums hummed as the cleaning crew got ready for another day.

  Outside, the sky was suffused with a pale glow, heralding the imminent sunrise. Removing his tie, he slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He looked up and spotted Dirk coming toward him. “How did it go?” the Englishman asked casually. “You look beat.”

  The two men strolled along the broad esplanade. “I am, but I made an interesting contact. Did you see the short heavyset man who left before me?”

  The SAS agent nodded. “He looked familiar. I snapped his picture.”

  “Good. I’m fairly sure I saw his face in the briefing file on the Czech syndicate. He mentioned a couple of times that he’s meeting someone tomorrow. Seemed rather anxious about it.” He scrubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “I need a shave.”

  “What you need is a few hours of sleep.” Dirk clapped Josh on the shoulder. “Good work. Oh, by the way, I met Olivia at the casino.” His eyes darted sideways. “She’s quite a woman.”

  Josh nodded. “I’m just beginning to realize that, although I dread the day she finds out why she’s really here.”

  “I know what you mean. In the meantime, let’s just concentrate on making
contact with Blazek.” He waved down a taxi. “Here’s a good sign. A taxi at this time of the morning.”

  Josh sank thankfully into the back seat. Dirk leaned into the window. “Don’t be surprised if you see me tonight.” He slapped the roof of the car and watched it speed off just as the sun rose over the horizon, turning the sea into a sheet of sparkling gold.

  “Bonjour, monsieur,” Martine called cheerfully as he entered the villa. “Can I bring you un café this morning?”

  Josh slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. “That sounds wonderful, Martine.” Stretching out on a lounge chair under the trellis, he fought the sudden lethargy that threatened to pull him under, but by the time the Frenchwoman returned with his coffee he was sound asleep, his hand trailing on the deck. With an understanding shake of her head, she placed the coffee beside him and withdrew silently.

  * * *

  Olivia stretched luxuriously, awakened by the brilliant light. She was rested, hungry, and surprisingly enough, she wasn’t missing work at all. After a quick shower, she pulled on a bathing suit and tied a pareu around her slim hips. She ran lightly down the stairs and came to a halt beside the pool.

  Slumped onto a chaise lounge, Josh lay with his head to one side, sound asleep. A cup of coffee sat on the table at his side and she touched it, surprised to find that it was still hot.

  Very quietly, she placed a chair beside the lounge and picked up his coffee as she sat down. Sipping it slowly, she studied him. His beard had darkened overnight, lending him a rakish, dangerous look. Fighting the sudden urge to reach out and touch the stubble on his cheek, she clutched the coffee cup with both hands.

  Even sound asleep, his body appeared firm and hard. Dark chest hairs showed through the open neck of his shirt, and a powerful awareness rippled through her body. Her eyes roamed hungrily over his body, lingering on the muscled forearms. She had a sudden picture of him repairing fences on his ranch, his body toned in a way that couldn’t be duplicated by working out in a fitness club. With a soft sigh she continued her inventory, noting the strength in his thighs, no doubt from riding, and ending where his feet hung over the end of the lounge.

  “Do you see something you like?”

  “Yes… uh, no.” She was uncharacteristically flustered. “Don’t do that to me, Josh. You frightened me.”

  Swinging his legs over the side of the lounge he shook his head. “I’m not the one sneaking up on people while they’re sleeping.” His eyes were bemused. “Here, give me a swig of that coffee.”

  With one long gulp he drained the cup, handing it back to her. “As you no doubt gathered, the game went on until early this morning.”

  “Was it what you expected? Did you win?” Her words tumbled out, and she pulled back. “Oops, I didn’t mean to be nosy. It’s the journalist in me, I suppose.”

  He managed a chuckle. “It was good. And yes, I managed to do rather well.” He massaged the back of his neck with one hand. “I hate to admit it, but I’m out of shape.”

  Jumping up, she patted the chair. “Sit here.”

  “Why?” He eyes the chair warily. “I don’t think I can make it that far.”

  “Don’t be a sissy.” She patted the chair again. “I’m going to give you a massage and put you to bed.”

  “I think I’d prefer it the other way around,” he mumbled, easing into the chair with an exaggerated sigh.

  “In your dreams.” She was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Would you like another coffee?”

  “Love it. Someone drank mine.”

  “I’ll be right back. Take off your shirt.”

  She ran into the kitchen and asked Martine for two more coffees. Then she raced up the stairs, returning with a bottle of suntan oil and a hand towel.

  “Here I am.” The words died in her throat, and she gave a quick prayer of thanks that he was sitting with his back to her. Even at its most vivid, her imagination hadn’t prepared her for the sight of his body. With trembling hands, she poured some oil into her left palm, then rubbed her hands together briskly.

  “It’s not massage oil, but I think it will do.” Her hands skimmed over the taut muscles of his shoulders, lightly at first and then increasing the pressure, eliciting a sigh of pleasure. His skin was just as she had imagined…smooth and taut. She ached to explore every inch of his body and was struck with a jolt of desire that left her breathless. Her hands stilled for a moment. She couldn’t allow herself to think like this. Josh Morgan was forbidden fruit. Hadn’t he made that clear from the very first? Resuming the slow, soothing massage she allowed her mind to drift, recalling the way he had looked at her last night in the casino. Had he been acting? Somehow she didn’t think so. She could still feel the warmth of his body as he slipped his arm around her waist, and she closed her eyes, savoring the memory.

  “Eh voila.” Martine bustled onto the deck, carrying a tray of steaming coffee, heated milk and a selection of pastries.

  Grateful for the reprieve, Olivia wiped her hands on the towel. “You were right, your muscles are really tight,” she remarked, busying herself with pouring the coffee. She needed a few moments to regain her composure. “One would think you’re not a serious poker player. Black or white?”

  Unseen by Olivia, Josh tensed, then forced himself to relax. “Black please.” He nodded. “You’re right about the poker. It’s not something I do on a regular basis. Especially in the spring when we’re busy with calving.”

  “Calving. Yes. Hmmm.” She blew on her coffee, afraid to look directly at him. Those dark eyes would read her thoughts as though they were tattooed on her forehead. With a resigned sigh, she raised her head. The curly hair that had been revealed at the neck of his shirt tapered into a narrow band, disappearing somewhere south of the waistband of his trousers. A shiny patch of skin caught her eye.

  “What?” He seemed amused. “What now?”

  “It’s that scar,” she said, pointing to a spot a few inches above his waist. “It looks suspiciously like a bullet hole.”

  “Know something about bullet holes do you?” He twisted around, looking down at his torso. “It wasn’t much more than a scratch. You can see where it came out, just back here.”

  “You were lucky.” She reached out and withdrew her hand just as quickly. “A few inches farther in…”

  “Yeah. I could have been in big trouble.”

  “You’re awfully casual about it.”

  “I may sound that way…” a shadow crossed his eyes. “…but there’s nothing casual about death.”

  “No.” Alerted by his tone, she watched him carefully. “There isn’t.”

  Lost in thought, he stared into his coffee cup. Rotating it slowly, he seemed mesmerized by the swirling liquid that remained.

  Olivia set down her cup and stood up, walking behind his chair. “You’re tired,” she said softly. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” She placed her hand on his shoulder, and her heart lurched when he covered it with his hand.

  “Thanks Olivia.” He rose from the chair. “And thanks again for coming with me.” His fingers brushed the side of her neck, then trailed down her arm, heating every nerve ending along the way. He picked up his shirt and disappeared into the house.

  “It’s my pleasure,” she said softly, wondering if her heart would survive the conflicting emotions he aroused in her.

  Chapter Five

  Olivia studied her reflection as she prepared to go out for the evening. She chose a simple black dress and found herself hoping Josh would approve. He had wakened late in the afternoon, and then swam endless laps in the pool, tanned arms flashing tirelessly through the water. She’d watched with an absorbed fascination while her heart thudded inside her chest like a troupe of Irish clog dancers. From now on there would be no more fantasies about what his body looked like; it was everything she’d envisioned and more.

  As she appeared on the pool deck he stood up, handsome in a crisp white shirt and da
rk suit. Discreet gold and onyx cufflinks gleamed at his wrists. He backed up a step and emitted a low wolf whistle.

  He circled her with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “You look good enough to eat,” he murmured softly.

  His voice reached out and drew her in. It was sippin’ whiskey, it was black velvet, it was hard steel–and God help her–it was hot sex, waiting to happen. She met his eyes as he came to a stop in front of her.

  A pulse throbbed in her throat and he smiled, tracing it with his fingertips as his eyes held hers. Lowering his head, his lips brushed her skin where his fingers had been, then trailed lower, lingering in the hollow of her neck. “Olivia,” he whispered, raising his head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do about you.” His lips seemed to suggest a world of new possibilities.

  “I have a few ideas,” she murmured as his hands slid around her waist, pulling her close. “And none of them include falling in love.” Mercy, she thought. Where did that come from?

  “In that case,” he said with a smile that lit his eyes from within, “I think I’ll kiss my fiancée.”

  His mouth claimed hers with a ferocity that buckled her knees. Her arms went around his neck and she heard herself moan softly as his tongue probed between her lips, devouring her until her body was wild with chaos. Opening her eyes, she saw him watching her response, and she made no effort to hide her growing desire. His eyes glittered hungrily, and he slanted his mouth across hers, demanding and yet giving. An exquisite heat curled in the pit of her stomach, aching to be extinguished. She clutched at his jacket, lost in a whirlwind of emotion.

  Gasping for breath they pulled apart, lips bruised and trembling. Holding her with one arm he cupped her chin in one hand, brushing his thumb tenderly across her bottom lip. “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, breathing rapidly, “or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”