Honeytrap: Part 1 by Roberta Kray

1
    Harry Lind slid the photograph across the desk with his usual show of reluctance. Although the honeytrap side of the business had been up and running for the past six months – and was pulling in plenty of clients – he was still unconvinced of the morality of throwing temptation into the path of any red-blooded male. Was it fair? Was it right? Something troubled him about it. He was an ex-cop, a detective through and through, and he couldn’t quite shake off the notion that it was basically entrapment.
    ‘Joshua Keynes, known as Josh. He’ll be in Wilder’s tomorrow night. The reception starts at seven. Lorna’s got the tickets for you.’
    Sylvie sat and studied the picture for a moment before glancing up again. ‘Wife or girlfriend?’
    ‘Fiancée, actually. But she has her doubts.’
    Sylvie nodded. ‘Better to be safe than sorry. That’s what they say,
oui
?’
    Harry gave a shrug. ‘Sure.’ The fiancée might only be fishing, but it was hardly an equitable sport when the bait was Sylvia Durand. She was a slender, cultured, attractive blonde with eyes as green and wily as a cat’s. She spoke excellent English and her French accent only added to her charm.
    Sylvie gave him one of her indulgent smiles. ‘You know what your problem is, Harry?’
    He made a point of looking at his watch. ‘I imagine there’s quite a list. Do we have time to go through it all?’
    ‘You have no faith in the ability of men to be faithful.’
    ‘And you do?’
    ‘
Un peu
,’ she said, holding up her thumb and forefinger. ‘A little.’
    Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘That much?’
    ‘All he has to do is say
non
!’
    But Harry knew that they rarely did. Joshua would need his morality honed to the standard of a saint if he was going to resist Sylvie. It was her job to try and seduce, to test his fidelity, to attempt to commit him to a sexual encounter (without actually going through with it), and then to tactfully withdraw. Everything was recorded so that the client could listen to it later. ‘Sometimes that’s the hardest word in the world.’
    Sylvie rose to her feet and smoothed down her cream linen dress. ‘Perhaps. But if he really loves his fiancée, then … no problem, right?’
    Harry didn’t think it was that straightforward. Anyone could make a mistake, have a moment of weakness; it didn’t mean they were predisposed to be unfaithful. Or was he just putting himself in the target’s shoes, wondering how
he’d
react if Sylvie chose to bestow her charms on him? If a man or woman was actually having an affair, then it was clear cut, premeditated, an obvious betrayal, but this was different. When a slice of sweet patisserie was served up on a plate, it was hard to resist the temptation to eat. ‘Don’t forget to text.’
    ‘I won’t.’
    ‘When you arrive and when you leave.’
    ‘I know the routine, Harry.’
    ‘It’s for your own safety.’
    She raised her hand and waved. ‘Goodbye, Harry. Have a nice weekend.’
    Harry watched as she walked out of the office. She moved with languid elegance, and his gaze slid down the length of her body, observing all its curves and planes. A sigh rose into his throat, but he was careful not to release it until after the door had closed behind her. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he murmured. When it came to dangerous blondes, he’d well and truly learned his lesson. It wasn’t that long since the seductive Aimee Locke had cost him a night in a police cell with a murder charge hanging over his head. Like a fool, he’d walked straight into the trap she’d set for him. Mixing business with pleasure, he decided, was never a good idea.
    Harry stood up, stretched out his arms, yawned and turned towards the window. It was early afternoon, half past one, but already the Friday traffic was building up. He placed his palms against the glass and gazed down on to the street. Over a year had passed since he and Mac had shifted the business of Mackenzie, Lind from the