Fool Me Once by Mona Ingram

very
likely played in one of the private rooms.”
    He
draped an arm over the back of the sofa, his mind focused on the evening ahead.
“What I had in mind for tonight was simply to enjoy ourselves.” He grinned.
“Show the flag, as it were. I might play baccarat for a couple of hours. If you
don’t mind, that is.”
    “Of
course not, although it all sounds rather James Bond-ish. Am I to dress in a
low-cut gown and drape myself over your left shoulder?”
    Wariness
surfaced momentarily in his eyes. Olivia wondered if she’d said something
wrong. Then he relaxed visibly, disarming her with a crooked smile. “Nothing
nearly that dramatic. We’ll be flying down to Monte Carlo tomorrow, so we’ll
make it an early night. Now…how about some dinner?”
    * * *
    Shortly
after one in the morning they returned to the hotel. Josh undid his tie and
slipped out of his jacket before easing into an overstuffed armchair with a
sigh. He hadn’t spoken on the way home.
    Olivia
kicked off her shoes, watching him carefully. She knew that he hadn’t had a
successful evening.
    She
wandered over to the bar. “Would you like a drink?” she asked, breaking the
silence.
    “What?”
He looked up. “Oh, no thanks.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I hope I
wasn’t too obvious tonight. Time will tell, but I think I was convincing.”
    “Obvious?
What do you mean?” She looked at him curiously.
    “It’s
hard to lose money and make it look believable.”
    Staring
at him uncomprehendingly, she sank onto the sofa. “Are you saying that you lost
on purpose tonight?”
    “They
remember the big winners and the big losers.” He grinned. “By the time we show
up at Monte Carlo the word will have filtered down. They’ll all want a piece of
me.”
    Olivia
shook her head. “You’re amazing.”
    “Speaking
of amazing.” He pulled up a footstool in front of her. “I was watching you
tonight. You were trying to hide the fact that your feet hurt. They’re killing
you, aren’t they?”
    “It’s
my own fault. I usually don’t wear high heels.”
    He
held out a hand. “Here, give me one of those feet.”
    Startled,
she obeyed. His hands closed over her foot, both thumbs probing the tender
sole. She sighed with pleasure, melting into the cushions of the sofa. “Where
did you learn this?” she asked, eyes half-closed.
    “Stick
with me, kid.”
    His
Bogey imitation was excellent; she laughed and then offered him the other foot.
“You’re a man of many talents, Josh Morgan. Tell me, are there any more like
you at home?”
    His
hands stilled, and he cupped her foot by the heel, lowering it gently to the
floor.
    “No,”
he replied, his voice flat. “I’m the only one.” He stood and gathered up his
jacket and tie. “I think I’ll turn in now.”
    He
hesitated, and Olivia held her breath, hoping that he would explain the sudden
frostiness in the air. With an almost imperceptible shake of his head he strode
toward his bedroom, pausing at the door. “Goodnight Olivia. See you in the
morning.”
    She
stared at the door for several long minutes after he closed it. Had she done
something to offend him? She replayed their conversation in her mind, but
couldn’t imagine what she’d done–or said–wrong. Her brow furrowed. There was a
lot more to Josh Morgan than he had so far revealed. She wiggled her toes in
the plush carpet. Discovering the real man behind the façade was going to be
interesting. Very interesting indeed.
    * * *
    “Do
you always travel like this?” she asked, glancing around the small private jet
as they flew over France. A steward had just served them coffee, and Olivia
sipped appreciatively from the fine porcelain cup.
    “Not
always,” he replied casually, looking past her to assess the scattered clouds
below. “I fly my own Cessna at home. It saves a lot of time.”
     
“Yes, I suppose it would,” she murmured, following his gaze. She remained silent
for several moments, then turned to face him.