The Fiancé Trap: A Honeytrap Inc. Romance

by Tabitha A Lane

  Table of Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by Tabitha

  The Fiancé Trap

  A Honeytrap Inc Romance

  Tabitha A Lane

  Contents

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Other Books by Tabitha

  The Fiancé Trap

  Copyright © 2017 by Tabitha A Lane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Editor: Cindy Davis

  Cover Design: RBA Designs

  Formatting: Romy Sommer

  For Kitty French and Zara Cox:

  Inspiring. Trailblazing. Friends.

  ONE

  Another friggin’ dick pic.

  Ally Moore puffed out air, her happy morning mood dissolving in an instant. There’d been hope for this one—the client had been sure the profile had been filled out by her husband’s friend as a joke. The erect dick on Ally’s cell phone screen suggested differently. Could his wife pick out Joe’s penis in a lineup? Would she recognize the unfastened jeans as the ones she washed and ironed? I hope to hell she doesn’t wash and iron his fucking jeans. Not if he flashes his dick at everyone checking out his dating profile.

  Ally shoved the cell phone back in her bag. One day she’d love to be surprised. Love to be proved wrong. Love to have her faith in humankind restored. She was in the wrong job for that. Instead, today she’d have to meet another client and destroy their world.

  The sky was dark, threatening rain. Ally picked up the pace, needing to reach the office before fat raindrops splashed the sidewalk. Women’s magazines, endless TV shows and many of her girlfriends condemned men as scum, but the truth was much worse. Cheating isn’t confined to one sex. The company she worked for had men and women operatives because cheating crosses the gender barrier equally.

  Cheating is one profession where there’s no discrimination. Anyone—everyone can do it.

  Well, this dick won’t be doing it with me.

  She turned up her jacket collar, quickstepped to the heavy doors with ‘Honeytrap Inc.’ engraved in the clear glass, and strode to the reception desk where Margaret was talking on the phone, her voice soft and soothing.

  Ally and Margaret had visual semaphore down to a fine art. A quirk of Ally’s eyebrows. Margaret shook her head. No messages. A glance at the clock: 8:40. Time to fill out a report before the morning meeting.

  Now Husband Joe had been revealed as Cheating Scumbag Joe, the urge to close his file and be done with him burned like acid reflux. God knows why she’d let this assignment get to her. The odds were never in his wife Bea’s favor, but something about their client’s desperate hope that there’d been a mistake—her hopeful naiveté—twisted an echo in Ally’s gut. It was a damned shame she’d have to present the evidence, and in doing so shatter Bea’s heart.

  With a grimace, Ally headed for the privacy of her office. In minutes, she’d uploaded the picture to her computer and sent it to print.

  You shit.

  A quick flick through her color-coded, alphabetized files in the small filing cabinet, and she pulled out his paperwork. She clipped the photo to the investigation report. Pressed the large rubber stamp into the red ink block next to her keyboard, and stamped CHEATER on the file’s front. Case closed.

  The three more open cases she needed to update would have to wait until after the meeting. She retrieved the files, left the office, and headed for the boardroom.

  A punch of her code into the keypad unlocked the door. Security was paramount—pictures of their current cases were attached to a large glass wall behind the conference table, and this room was strictly Employees Only. No clients allowed.

  “Good morning.” Crystal Daines, the blonde, petite, pocket rocket Head of Operations at Honeytrap Inc., attached a new photograph to the glass wall, and glanced over her shoulder to gift Ally with a rare smile. Crystal was impeccably dressed in a navy Chanel suit, elegant from the top of her effortlessly perfect hair to the tip of her Ferragamo sandals. Her gaze lingered on Ally’s short-sleeved sunshine yellow dress, fastened up the front with mother of pearl buttons. It was a different look—a calculated attempt to be seen differently. And by Crystal’s expression, it seemed to have worked. “I like the dress.”

  “Thank you.” Ally dropped her files onto the conference table. She gazed at the new photograph. “I’ve seen her before.”

  “Everyone has.”

  Another high profile target. Was she an actress? Someone from the society pages? Ally wracked her memory. Where have I seen her before?

  Crystal cleared her throat. “I need to talk to you the moment the meeting is over.”

  A noise behind them, then the door opened to admit the other members of the team: Ashley, Marco, and Chris. The three couldn’t be more different. Ashley was billionaire girlfriend material. Long legs, scarlet lips, and honey-blonde hair twisted up in a chignon. Her slim legs were encased in tailored trousers, and she wore a white silk shirt open at the neck to reveal a Tiffany key suspended from a fine silver chain.

  Marco—six-one, was the perfect definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His Italian roots were evident in his whiskey-colored eyes and the riot of dark curls, which tempted women to spear their fingers through them. He flashed a smile at Ally, and cast a glance of pure male appreciation at Crystal’s legs before slouching down on a chair, manspreading as usual.

  “Morning all.” Chris was Marco’s complete opposite. His sun-bleached hair was pulled up in a man bun, and he was rocking a couple of days’ scruff. Marco was lithe and lean, but Chris looked every inch the surfer he’d been before Crystal signed him to the team. He still traveled back to Australia a couple of times a year when he had time off.

  Crystal waited until everyone was seated, then crossed her arms. “So. Reports.” She inclined her head in Ally’s direction. “What do you have, Ally?”

  Ally walked to the glass wall and tapped a photograph. “Joe Swift sent a dick pic this morning.” She stripped the picture from the wall, and moved to the next photograph. “And I went to this guy’s gym last night. He didn’t respond to me, but I caught him swapping spit with a gym regular outside the showers.”

  She removed his picture too, and carried them back to her seat, shoving them into the files. “I have a chance meeting in a bar arranged tonight for my third ta
rget, and another target currently in play.”

  “I have some time today, come to my office later. I’ll talk to the wives.” It was unusual for Crystal to get involved at ‘talking to the client’ level, but welcome. Especially today, where for some reason Ally’s diamond-hard exterior felt decidedly chipped.

  She nodded. The meeting continued. Operatives reported on their current cases, eliminating clients from the board, and were assigned new cases.

  When the meeting ended, Chris hung back. “Want to meet up later?” He stroked a finger down Ally’s upper arm.

  “I’m working.”

  He smiled. Jesus, he has the bluest eyes on the planet. “I know. So am I. I meant later later.” He looked at her mouth. “Your place?”

  Booty-call later.

  For a moment, she was tempted. He had a fantastic body, and he sure knew what to do with it; the four nights they’d shared already proved that. But he seemed to have her confused with her working persona—just like everyone else in the office. She was the ‘hookup girl,’ rather than girlfriend material. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend, but the presumption that she’d be hot for a hookup every time, without even the offer of dinner, rankled.

  “I think we should cool it for a while.” She softened her words with a smile, so he didn’t feel too bummed.

  “Are you afraid I’m getting too attached? I know your rules. No staying over. No mushy stuff. No thinking this is going anywhere…”

  Were those her rules? The first two resonated, but she didn’t remember ever laying down the last one.

  “I’ll be tired tonight. I just want to crash.”

  “Are you meeting someone else?” He shoved his hands into the back pocket of his jeans, emphasizing what she’d be missing. “It’s cool if you are—we’re not exclusive or anything.”

  “No, I’m not meeting someone else. If I were, I’d tell you.” She glanced at the door. “I’m not sleeping with anyone else right now.” A thought trickled through her consciousness. “Are you?”

  “Well…yeah. Nothing serious, but yeah.”

  Her blood turned to ice. “Who?” The guy was a chick-magnet. Ashley and Crystal habitually checked him out when he walked into a room. He had the curious problem when working of always attracting too many women, not just his target for the night. His physical attributes made him a perfect honeytrapper.

  The only thing they had in common was a shared enjoyment of each other’s bodies. She didn’t want more, but she didn’t want to be taken for granted either. They didn’t even like the same movies, and spending time with Chris outside of the bedroom held no appeal, unless it was sex-based. But if he’d been fucking other women in the office, that was bound to get awkward.

  “No-one you know. The girl in Charlie’s, a girl at the gym.” He gazed up at the corner of the room, as if trying to remember all his recent conquests, then his gaze flicked back to hers. “That’s it. And you, of course.”

  There was no jealousy, no upset. She just hoped the other girls didn’t think they were exclusive. She took a step away. “I better go see Crystal.”

  When she entered Crystal’s office, her boss waved in the direction of the Nespresso machine. “Coffee?”

  “Not for me.” Ally was wired enough after this morning; she didn’t need caffeine.

  “Oh. Fine.” Crystal chewed her lip. She picked up a silver pen, and tapped it on the desk a couple of times. Flicked her a glance, then looked away. Something’s off.

  Ally settled into the chair opposite, and crossed her legs. It felt weird to feel her bare legs slide against each other. Girly. “I brought the files.” She pushed them across the oak desk. “Are you sure you want to brief the clients?” It was a horrible job, akin to telling a hospital visitor that their relative had just died. There would be crying. Denial would change to anger when the proof was presented, and it was always directed at the messenger. She’d rather catch spiders than talk to clients.

  “I know you hate it,” Crystal said. “All of the operatives do, and we’ve decided, going forward, to change the way we deal with clients. There’s an understandable curiosity about the person their partner was willing to cheat with, and having the honeytrapper tell them about their partner’s indiscretions is rubbing salt into the wound. It will be easier for them to hear the news from someone who isn’t directly involved.”

  “That makes sense.”

  Crystal nodded. “It’s confidential at the moment, but Margaret has agreed to move from reception to the newly created role of client liaison.” She leaned back in her chair. “Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to speak to you. I have a special assignment, one that I wish to be kept private.”

  Ally rubbed the side of her neck.

  “It’s a personal matter.” She swallowed as though eaten up by nerves. “You’re a great operative. In the years you’ve worked for me, you closed more cases than anyone else here.”

  Ally waited for the but.

  “But…”

  Here it comes.

  “You have potential for more.”

  Ally felt her eyes widen.

  “As you know, I’m in charge of the day to day here in the office, and Brian is the CEO. He’s negotiated a merger with Kern Investigations, and they want to set up a honeytrapping division of their own. I’ve been asked to move to their office to recruit and train new staff. If I take them up on their offer, it would leave a vacancy here, and Brian and I think you would be the perfect candidate to take over my job.”

  Somehow, Ally managed not to jump out of her chair and punch the air. “This is unexpected.”

  Crystal smiled. “It shouldn’t be. You’re the longest-serving member of the team. There will have to be changes—you won’t be able to do so much of the groundwork; it will mean more time spent behind a desk. More management.” She peered at Ally. “Would that cause you a problem?”

  “I don’t see why it should.”

  “We’ll have to employ another agent to take up the slack. Someone who matches your skills— who can appeal to the same demographic. Ashley has the billionaire sector nailed down, but the more regular roles you play…”

  “Biker chick, wild child and slutty teenager?”

  Crystal nodded. “Exactly. We’ll need someone who can pull those off.”

  “So when is this likely to happen?” There would be more money. And she could sure do with more money. Her aging Ford was just about hanging in there. And she could do with a change too. After a year of meeting men and finding the majority of them all too willing to cheat on their partners, her faith in humankind was shredded. She’d started to dread the assignments. The thought of working in the office, overseeing operations, helping Margaret in her new role, and improving the way the company ran, made her feel alert, invigorated, ready for anything.

  “I haven’t made the decision to accept the offer yet.” Crystal played with her fountain pen, stroking the smooth silver, picking it up, then putting it down again. “Which brings us back to the special assignment.”

  Nothing could dampen Ally’s jubilant mood now. Was it too late to take Chris up on his offer? A victory fuck felt in order. “Bring it on.”

  “I’ve met someone.” Crystal flicked back her hair. A trace of pink swept her cheekbones. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m contemplating marriage again.”

  Ally was struck dumb. It was no secret that Crystal’s previous marriage had been so toxic she’d been inspired to pitch the idea of a honeytrapping agency to billionaire Brian Martin. He was the owner, but in many ways it was Crystal’s vision and determination that birthed the agency. Ally’d never thought she’d see the day that Crystal decided to take a chance on love again. “Congratulations?”

  Crystal shook her head. “He hasn’t proposed. Not yet.” She steepled her hands on the desk, and fixed Ally with a steady gaze. “I’m not stupid enough to get engaged without being sure. I need him investigated, and you’re the only woman to do it.”

  Holy shit. H
oneytrapping the boss’s almost-fiancé.

  “Here’s the thing”—Ally tried to keep her feelings from showing on her face—“are you sure you want me to do this? I mean, we’re colleagues, and it could be awkward. And, well…rule one?”

  Rule one of honeytrapping: Never work for a friend or colleague. A rule Crystal was well aware of, seeing as she was the one who’d made it.

  “I know that. But I need someone I can trust to do this properly.” Crystal paced back and forth in front of the window, like a dog in a cage, looking for a way out. “I want someone who will be enticing, without being predatory. Someone who won’t overstep.”

  “Okay, well. There are some other problems that could be associated with using me. Firstly, he knows you run the agency, so—”

  “He doesn’t know what I do.”

  Ally couldn’t stop herself from raising her brows at that.

  “He knows I’m a private investigator, but he doesn’t know we’re honeytrappers. If all goes well, and I end up with his ring on my finger, he’ll never know. I will have left Seattle and be based in Portland by then.”

  “Portland?” The city she grew up in, and had left a year ago after the disastrous situation with her parents. The place she called home for all her life. “Kern is based in Portland?”

  “You’re from there, aren’t you?” Crystal’s gaze flicked up to hers. “I remember reading that in your file. I met the guy I’ve been seeing while I was there attending meetings. He lives in a town a few miles away. There was no need to tell him about our business.”

  A lie, even one of omission, didn’t seem a good way to start a marriage.

  “What about the wedding? Social occasions? It’s bound to come out at some stage.”

  Crystal was climbing Denial Mountain. She shook her head. “We’ll have a quiet wedding.” An apologetic smile. “And I’m afraid none of you will be on the guest list.”

  Maybe it could work. So many couples moved from lovers to more without knowing the first thing about each other. They threw away logic, and put all their faith in love. Trusted their partners would never hurt them, never cheat. A thorough background check might not be romantic, but could save heartbreak in the long run. “I have a couple of cases still open. I’m meeting one of the targets tonight.”