Fool Me Once (9 page)

“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
dark 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.”

“And
would that be so terrible?” She pressed her lower body against the evidence of
his arousal. “Responsibility is highly overrated.”

He
groaned aloud. “I told your friend Gerard I’d be back tonight and to hold a
place at the table.” He planted a quick kiss on her lips. “There are supposed
to be some major players coming tonight.”

Olivia
blinked rapidly, trying to hide her disappointment. “Well that’s what you’re
here for.” She gave him what she hoped was a brilliant smile. “I found a little
Bistro this afternoon when you were sleeping.” She slipped her hand into his.
“Come on, let’s get some supper.”

* * *

“Oh…
I forgot to tell you,” she exclaimed over the fruit and cheese tray. She made a
selection and passed it to him. “I met an Englishman last night. He was very
nice. So if you see me speaking with a tall blonde man, you’ll know who it is.
His name is Dirk.”

“Should
I be jealous?” He popped a grape into his mouth.

“Don’t
be silly. I’m engaged to you.”

His
eyes darkened. “Yes, you are, aren’t you?”

She
lifted her chin. “Call me old fashioned, but I dislike deception of any kind.
That’s why I mentioned Dirk.” She spread some Brie on a cracker and handed it
to him. “And I don’t mean just infidelity. I despise people who don’t tell the
truth.” She gave a short laugh. “Sorry about that, but it’s something I feel
very strongly about.” Embarrassed by her outburst, she gathered the shawl
around her shoulders. Across the table, he regarded her with a combination of
admiration and something else… was that guilt? “Anyway, as I said, Dirk is an
Englishman, and I enjoyed speaking with him last night. I’ll introduce you if
he’s there tonight.”

“I’d
like that.” He stood up, offering her his hand. “Let’s go have a look.”

* * *

“
Bonsoir
Olivia, Monsieur Morgan.” Gerard appeared out of nowhere. He turned to Josh.
“You are still interested in this evening’s game?” His dark eyes glanced toward
the roped-off area.

“Yes,
I am.” Josh slid his arm around Olivia’s waist. “You don’t mind, do you
Darlin’?” He nuzzled her neck, sending shivers of delight dancing across her
skin. “I’ll try not to be so late tonight.” He looked into her eyes, and her
heart skipped a beat.

Gerard
coughed discreetly. “
Bien
. I’ll look for you when the others arrive.
Until then, enjoy the tables.”

Josh
kept his arm possessively around her waist. For a few delirious moments she
enjoyed the sensation of being cherished. He was easily the most handsome man
in the casino, and several women eyed her enviously. She raised her head to
find him grinning down at her. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and gave her a
sly wink.

The
euphoria of moments before fell away like petals from a dying rose. How could
she have forgotten so easily that he was playing a role? Her smile faded.

Josh
peered at her. “What is it?” His hand tensed on her back. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,
I’m fine.” She edged away from him. “For a minute back there I forgot we were
play-acting.” She tossed her head, determined not to let him see her anguish.

“Play
acting? Is that what you think?” His voice was a low growl. “Do you think I was
play acting this evening at the villa?” His eyes searched hers, waiting for the
answer that didn’t come. When he spoke again, his voice had gentled. “I think
you know the answer to that Olivia.” His fingers brushed her cheek with an
exquisite tenderness and then he turned. “I’ll be at the baccarat table if you
need me,” he said over his shoulder.

“That’s
what I’m afraid of,” she murmured to herself. “That I’ll need you.” She
couldn’t let that happen. She knew The Rules, and even though she wished
otherwise, she knew he wouldn’t break them.

“Who
is that gorgeous man?”

Startled
out of her reverie, Olivia turned at the sound of the sultry voice. “Francine,”
she said, embracing her friend. “It’s good to see you.”

“And
I you. But tell me, who is he?” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a keeper.”

Olivia
laughed. “You’re just what I needed, Francine. Where’s Marc, by the way?”

The
Frenchwoman shrugged. “He’s around somewhere. We’re expected at the home of
some friends in an hour, so we can’t stay long.” She spotted the diamond on
Olivia’s finger and her eyes widened. “Is this…” she gestured toward the
baccarat table. “This is from him?”

Olivia
slipped her arm through Francine’s. “Let’s go have a drink and I’ll tell you
all about it.” The two friends made their way to the bar.

* * *

“It
sounds like a fairy tale.” The Frenchwoman shook her head, and gestured at the
waiter to bring two more drinks. Her eyes grew thoughtful. “I’ve never been to
Montana.” As Senior International Correspondent for WorldView, Francine focused
her attention on Europe.

“Well
I haven’t been there either.” Olivia changed the subject. “So tell me, what are
you working on now?”

“I’m
working on a story about conflict diamonds.” She gave a slight shudder. “Have
you noticed how war and terrorism are part of every story we do these days?” She
took a sip of her drink, her eyes thoughtful. “Terrorism has changed all of our
lives, there’s no denying it.”

“I
was thinking the same thing the other day.” Olivia laid a hand on her friend’s
arm. “You will be careful, won’t you? I’ve read about how ruthless these people
can be.”

“Don’t
worry. The Paris Bureau Chief says he’d rather have a live correspondent than a
dead one and half a story.”

“Sounds
like my editor.”

The
two women were soon engrossed in a discussion of their editors, all thoughts of
the casino forgotten.

“Hello
Olivia.” Marc’s hand lingered on Francine’s shoulder as he slipped into a
chair. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“She’s
with her new fiancé.” Francine gestured across the casino. “The tall one over
there.” Josh was deep in conversation with a short, dark man who stood with his
back to them.

Marc’s
eyes found Josh and his entire body stilled. Turning his head slowly, he stared
at Olivia. “You’re not serious, are you?” His tone was one of disbelief.

Olivia
watched a range of emotions cross his face, and a flutter of apprehension ran
down her spine. She looked incredulously from Francine to Marc.

The
Frenchman picked up Francine’s cassis, downing it in one gulp. “Forgive me,
please” he murmured, avoiding Olivia’s eyes. “It’s not my business.”

“Marc,”
she pleaded. “What are you talking about?” Her eyes darted around the gambling
salon. Suddenly it seemed as though the air had been sucked from the room. She
took a calming breath. “What is it? Please, you must tell me.”

He
looked at her steadily, and his large brown eyes were sad. “Olivia, I’m quite
sure your friend is an arms dealer.”

“Josh?”
She laughed with relief. “For a moment you had me frightened. No Marc, you’re
mistaken. His name is Josh Morgan and he’s a rancher from the States. He’s here
to play poker.” She searched for his tall figure, needing to see him again. He
had disappeared. The man he had been speaking with stopped at the roulette
table.