Fool Me Twice

by Lilliana Anderson

  “You are so smart, Aunt Maya. I could kiss you!” Suddenly my eyes were open, and I had a whole new method of searching for him.

  She laughed. “I’m even smarter than you think. Take a look in that bag over there.” Her eyes directed me to the hutch in her dining room.

  “What’s this?” I asked, pulling out a white box with a small plastic rectangle pictured on it.

  “It’s a GPS card. You put it in your purse and if anyone takes it, you can ping it and it’ll tell you where it is. I thought that since you insist on hunting this man down, there should at least be a way of finding you when I can’t sleep because of the worry.”

  I grinned, then got up and hugged her. “Aw, Aunty, you do worry about me.”

  “All the bloody time, girl. Now get off me and grate that cheese. We’ll never eat at the rate you’re going.”

  When I got home, my belly full and my resolve strengthened, I opened my brand-new laptop and channelled my inner Sherlock. I remembered smelling salt air on his clothes, so it made sense that he must spend a lot of time near the sea—that or he had an amazing fabric softener. Chewing my lip, I tried to recall something that would narrow it further…. His tan! Salt air plus the outdoors equalled the beach. Tall, muscular, scruffy men who smelled like the sea and had a great tan? A surfer. He had to be! Melbourne beaches were fairly sheltered, which meant surfing was non-existent anywhere within Port Phillip Bay. The closest surfing beach was over an hour south, and it made sense that he didn’t shit in his own backyard. It also explained why I’d had zero luck searching for him in Melbourne. He doesn’t live here!

  Taking Aunt Maya’s advice, I googled gyms in the closest surf suburb I could think of—Torquay. By the end of my search, I’d narrowed my list to fifteen gyms around the two most popular surfing beaches. There were about to be a lot of early morning drives in my future, but it was a starting point that gave me renewed strength and direction.

  I slept like a baby that night.

  Chapter Six

  Duchess

  Normally I was like a ninja at the gym—you never saw me there. But suddenly I was a regular, up at the crack of dawn and driving for over an hour to pound out steps on a treadmill and keep a close watch on the entry doors, later asking the women in the change room if they’d ever seen someone matching Ben’s description. I was even more exhausted than I’d been searching clubs and bars, plus my thighs were burning and my runners didn’t understand why they were being used so much, but still I persisted. It was as if I could smell him close by.

  Sure, I could’ve searched the beaches to see if he was among the surfers, but since I’d never been on a board before, I didn’t think it would look believable if suddenly I turned up with one asking questions. Plus, I’d seen Point Break—those surfer groups weren’t easy to break into. No, a chubby chick looking to join a gym was much more believable.

  “Are you talking about Nate?” a tiny girl asked in the ninth gym I’d been to in two weeks. I hadn’t even been talking to her; she’d overheard me talking to a redhead and interrupted.

  Nate? It was possible he’d given me a fake name.

  Frowning, I mopped my overly exerted face with my towel. Cardio was hard. “Is this him?” I pulled out the police sketch and showed it to her.

  “That’s not Nate. It’s a drawing of Hugh Jackman.” She looked at me like I was growing a second head before her eyes.

  “It’s not supposed to be Jackman.” I tucked the picture away. I really needed to stop using it as a reference. “But the man I’m looking for looks kind of like him though—a younger version with light blue eyes and dark hair. He’s also built like a brick shithouse, and has an American accent… or maybe he doesn’t. He might have been putting that on.”

  “I don’t know. I suppose it could be him—he is a joker,” she said, pulling out her phone and concentrating on the screen. “I think I have a picture here somewhere, but he doesn’t have an accent since he grew up around here. He’s an Aussie through and through.” She swiped for a few moments. “Here. That’s Nate there. He’s gorgeous, right?” She turned the screen towards me and I stopped breathing. It was him. Under any other circumstance, the picture would’ve made me laugh. It was of the girl in front of me and a friend posing in front of the gym’s mirrors. Ben—I mean Nate had photobombed it by coming up behind them and pulling a silly face with his tongue poking out.

  His name is Nate, not Ben, and he doesn’t have an accent. He also grew up right here. I knew absolutely nothing about him. For some reason, that revelation hurt. I couldn’t explain why.

  “I actually went to school with him and his brothers,” she continued, oblivious to my shock. “The Cartwright boys were always a lot of fun. Lots of parties on the beach and crazy antics.” She laughed in a way that told me she had fond memories of them.

  As I mutely studied the picture, my heart pounded against my ribcage with a painful thump. I’d finally found him. The realisation made me sick to my stomach.

  “That’s not him though, is it?” she asked “I mean, I guess he looks a little like Jackman if you squint, but… I don’t know. I’m probably wasting your time.”

  “That’s him,” I said, my voice just above a whisper as I stared at his face. I knew him intimately, but other than that, I knew nothing about him at all. Emotions I didn’t understand came flooding to the surface, my eyes pricking as a result. There was relief, there was fear, there was sadness, disappointment, and that pitiful emotion: desire. I didn’t want to feel desire for that man, but there it was, swimming around in my pool of hurt.

  “Did…did he do something to you?” the girl asked, her brow furrowing with concern. She seemed horrified at the thought, but was enough of a sister to ask anyway.

  I took a breath and tried to compose myself while shaking my head. “No,” I lied. “I just need to talk to him. Can you tell me when he comes in?”

  She shrugged. “He doesn’t really have a schedule, just floats in whenever he feels like it. I’m not even sure he has a job.” She laughed at that, and I wondered if anyone knew exactly what he was. “But his older brother Toby is more regular. Should be here already, actually. He does free weights downstairs, so if Nate’s here with him, that’s where they’ll be.”

  I wondered if maybe this brother was the guy who helped him rob me.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling as though I should hug her for her helpful information. But I decided that would be a little too familiar and gross considering the sweaty mess I was in, so I just waved, then collected my things and headed for the door.

  “Good luck,” she called after me.

  Taking the stairs slowly due to my thigh pain and the fact that I didn’t enjoy sliding down stairs on my face, I followed the signs and walked cautiously around to the free weights area, keeping my eyes peeled for any familiar giant men. I didn’t need to look far—the moment I rounded the corner, I landed smack dab in the centre of a broad chest. The scent of him hit me full force, and I didn’t even need to look up to know it was him.

  “Holland?” A disbelieving voice spoke my name slowly as strong arms wrapped around my upper arms to steady me. He remembers me? I forced my gaze to travel up the two-toned tank top that stretched itself across a football field–sized chest. All the while, my heart hammered out a tune that sounded a lot like ‘Bow chicka wow wow….’ My God, he was breathtaking.

  “Not-American Nate Cartwright,” I replied when our eyes locked. My stomach threatened to empty its contents, but I clamped it down as something flickered across his expression. It looked a lot like guilt, or maybe it was just worry. I knew who he was.

  “What are you doing here, and what happened to the rest of you?” He spoke in a clear Australian accent as he frowned, taking in my smaller figure. I still wasn’t thin by any stretch of the word, but I was a lot smaller than I was the night I met him—well, the him he’d pretended to be.

  “Excuse me?” I needed to make sure I’d heard him right. There I was, the wom
an he stole from finding out who he really was, and he was asking me about my weight loss?

  “Don’t get me wrong, you look gorgeous either way. But I really liked those curves.” His hand moved from my arm to my waist and he pulled me flush against him, smiling down at me. “I remember those curves real well.” His hand slid down and settled on the rounded part of my arse, gripping a little tighter, pressing a little closer. “I also remember how perfectly we fit.”

  With our skin brushing, tiny electrical currents passed between us, heating my cheeks and giving me a moment where I forgot the whole point of my being there. I remembered how well we fit together as well. In fact, my dreams wouldn’t let me forget. I also couldn’t stop thinking about his ripped chest and magical mouth. The whole name change and different accent thing was really throwing me off, but I couldn’t deny the impulses of my body.

  Why do I hate this guy again? Oh that’s right, he lied to me and robbed me.

  “Stop.” Shaking the lusty haze his closeness created, I pulled away from his grip and took a step back to get some distance and some clarity. “This isn’t why I came looking for you.”

  Even in my confused state, I couldn’t help but notice the mega biceps he had going on. He was wearing a grey and charcoal tank top and a pair of black gym shorts. I could see so much of him, and my traitorous nether regions tingled at the memory of what it felt like to touch him. I had to look away before I climbed him like a tree.

  He grinned. I loved the way his eyes danced with mischief. Shut up, Holland!

  “How did you find me, anyway?” he asked.

  “I looked.”

  “For three months and two weeks?”

  “That’s a very specific number,” I commented with a smirk. It was exactly how long I’d been looking.

  “I suppose it is.” His gaze travelled over my body, and his grin broadened.

  Does that mean he was waiting for me to find him? Counting the days we were apart? Was he longing for me, or does he just keep count of the days between one theft and the next? The last one was most likely.

  This interaction definitely wasn’t what I was expecting when I imagined confronting him. Honestly, I hadn’t thought much past jumping out in front of him and yelling, “Ha! The jig is up!”—and I didn’t even manage that part. The rest of it I was going to wing. I just hadn’t expected him to be happy to see me.

  A tiny part of me was actually enjoying the flirtation we had going on. I couldn’t deny the pull of attraction that coursed between us; it was intoxicating, to say the least. But at the same time, the bigger part of me was flashing warning lights and telling me I was being stupid. This wasn’t just any guy standing in front of me. It was a man without morals. Suddenly, all the warnings from Aunt Maya and Alesha lit up in my mind. He was a bad guy. I needed to get my head on straight. It was time to ask about the hairpin and get out there.

  “Why did you lie about who you were, then take all my stuff?” I asked, pushing my attraction to him down as deep as I could. I was angry and I felt betrayed by him. I needed to remember that. It didn’t matter how gorgeous he was, or how my traitorous body reacted the moment he was near, where I could feel him and smell him and remember exactly what it felt like having his naked skin pressed against mine…

  Focus on the anger. Focus on the danger. Stay smart.

  His tongue ran along his bottom lip as his expression evened out and he regarded me carefully, his hands resting on his hips. My heart rate kicked up and I realised that I had no idea what my true fight or flight reaction was. What if he really was dangerous? I should run the moment things went bad, but I didn’t know if I was one of those crazy people who stood there and fought when I couldn’t possibly win? I had never been in the position to find out.

  It was at that moment I realised how insane I was for hunting this guy down without a plan. What would my epitaph say now? Here lies Holland Williams. The wizard should’ve given her brains instead of courage. She was still awesome though.

  Some guy came down the stairs and brushed past us, nodding at Nate in greeting before he gave me a curious look. Nate stayed quiet until he walked away, leaving my question unanswered. That small act really pissed me off.

  “Can we go somewhere else to talk?” he asked, reaching out to steer me towards the exit.

  I rolled my eyes. Having me there obviously cramped his style and he didn’t want anyone he knew to see me. I supposed it wasn’t every day that the woman you fucked over turned up at your gym. Still, it wasn’t like any of them knew that. I could be anyone. Maybe he just didn’t want his gym buddies to find out he was a chubby chaser. Maybe he just worried someone might listen in on our conversation and find out who he really was.

  “What for? So you can take me for another ride?” I spoke a little too loud on purpose.

  He leaned in and lowered his voice. “If you want your answers, you’ll have to get them somewhere a little more private.”

  “I don’t trust you in private.” I folded my arms across my chest, jutting out my chin.

  “Not sure I trust myself either.” His eyes spoke of hunger as they dropped down to my cleavage and a grin spread across his face. The mischief had returned, and I uncrossed my arms immediately.

  “Are you seriously perving on my tits right now?”

  He shrugged. “You’re the one sticking them in my face.”

  Without a second’s thought, I pulled my hand back and slapped him. Hard. The clap loud enough that other patrons looked our way. “I was not sticking them in your face.” The flirtation was definitely over on my side.

  Recoiling from my slap, Nate grunted then let out his breath before glancing over his shoulder. “We really need to get out of here.” Placing his hand on my upper arm, he bustled me towards the stairs.

  “Let go of me, you oaf,” I called out, slapping his arm with my free hand.

  “Please shut up, Holland,” he begged, his voice calm and even.

  “Why? Will you drug me if I don’t?”

  “I’m thinking about it.” He was much bigger and stronger than me, so I didn’t really have much choice as to whether I wanted to follow him or not. I just kept moving along and complaining until we got outside and around the corner where we were alone.

  “I knew I made a mistake with you,” he said when we finally stopped and he released his grip. The flirtation was obviously over for him too. Good. But being called a mistake kind of hurt. A lot. I was an amazing regret. Fabulous.

  Rubbing at my arm, I frowned up at him. “Which part? Lying to me, fucking me or robbing me?”

  A growl reverberated out of his chest as he glared at me, hands on hips. “All of the above.”

  I mimicked the pose. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

  He clenched his jaw, studying me. Fuck, he’s hot. I winced internally, wishing I’d quit thinking about him in that way. But, it just kind of popped into my head unbidden. “What do you want from me, Holland? Why are you here?”

  “I want the hairpin you stole.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Don’t act like it wasn’t you. I remember the look on your face after I drank that water. You drugged me and took everything I owned while I was knocked out.”

  “I’m not denying anything. But I don’t do inventory, so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  It blew my mind that he used a word like ‘inventory’ as if he worked in some retail store doing stocktake.

  “It’s a hairpin. It’s gold and has a flower made from mother of pearl on the end of it. It was in the jewellery box you took from my wardrobe.”

  Shaking his head, he lifted his shoulders. None of this mattered to him. “I don’t have it.”

  “Can you at least tell me what you did with it so I can buy it back?”

  “What’s so important about this hairpin? You had insurance, right? Let it go.”

  “Let it go?” His words were like a slap in my face and I gasped in response, my emotions getting the bette
r of me. “That hairpin is the only thing I have left of my mother. And you took it, you sick, twisted bastard of a man. Don’t forget that I know who you are. I could have the cops on you in seconds.” Tears sprang to my eyes and I shoved against his chest, angry that I was crying, and furious that he was the reason for it. He’d made me feel special. Then he’d made me feel worthless. And all he could do was stand there, taking the punishment I was dishing out while looking ridiculously gorgeous. I hated that. I hated that he was still so beautiful to me even though I knew he had a criminal heart.

  Stepping away, I turned in a circle, unsure of what to do as I raked my fingers through my hair. “I just want it back.”

  Pressing his lips together, he wiped a hand over his scruff. “I didn’t know,” he responded.

  “How could you have known? It’s not like we knew each other. We chatted and we fucked. There were no deep secrets shared. Hell, I didn’t even know your real name. Is it really Nate? Or is that a fake one too?”

  “It’s Nate,” he responded, letting out his breath slowly.

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” I scoffed. “Jesus Christ. I can’t even… what is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how it feels to be your victim? You came into my home, I gave myself to you, and then you took everything. I felt used and violated, not to mention stupid and desperate. Do you ever think about the women you fuck over after the fact? Do you have any remorse?”

  His hands stayed on his hips as that tongue of his touched his lips. This was crazy. I doubt he felt any remorse. Why should he? He’d never been caught. He’d never been confronted by his victim. No one had ever made his crimes personal. Why the fuck had he chosen me? “Listen, if it helps I wasn’t supposed to pick you. I was supposed to pick your weird friend.”

  That made it so much worse. Had I been a backup? Had he seen me and decided I looked far more desperate and easy? I felt ill. “She’s not weird. She’s just awkward around men and painfully honest. Something you could probably learn from. Why did you choose me instead? Decided I was an easier target since big girls are always so desperate?” I had to know.