by Mona Ingram
“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.
Francine gasped audibly and she paled. “Marc, take a look at that man. Does he look familiar?”
The Frenchman didn’t turn around. “If you mean the one Olivia’s fiancé was speaking to, yes. He works for the Svoboda family in Prague.
Francine nodded slowly, her eyes bright. “I thought I recognized him, even though the photograph in my file isn’t very good.” She tapped her mouth with a swizzle stick. “His name is Jan, or something like that.”
The room started to tilt, and Olivia clutched the arm of her chair, her knuckles white. “All right, you two. Enough joking.” Her heart skipped a beat. “You are joking, aren’t you?”
“Olivia, I’m sorry.” Marc’s eyes followed the man as he left the casino. “I was in the men’s room, in one of the stalls. I clearly heard your�
��” he stumbled over the word. “I heard Morgan say he was in the market for Semtex, and RPGs.” He closed his eyes, as though to erase the memory, then raised his head, his expression bleak. “There was no mistaking what he said. They didn’t know I was there of course, so I waited several minutes, and then I left.”
Olivia’s head began to spin; she was having a difficult time keeping Marc in focus. “You’re sure?” she asked, pushing her hair back over her ear. Maybe she hadn’t heard him correctly.
He nodded. “I’m sorry, Olivia.” He glanced at Francine. “Is there anything we can do? We are meeting some friends for a late supper, but we could drop you off at your hotel.” He gave a classic Gallic shrug.
Olivia was afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her up. “Thanks, but I think I’ll sit here for a few moments.” She picked up her drink with a trembling hand. “I need to think about this.”
Francine scribbled a phone number on the back of her card. “This is where I can be reached for the next few days. Call me if you need me.” Olivia took the card. “I mean it, Olivia. Call me any time.” With a brief kiss on the cheek, she was gone.
Olivia’s disbelief turned to slow, burning anger as her thoughts slipped back in time. She could smell the heavy, humid air of the greenhouse. She could hear his words as clearly as if he were standing beside her. He had been so smooth, feeding her the line about wanting to play poker. And she had swallowed it like some love-starved spinster! And then tonight, at the villa. Her face burned, recalling how she’d responded to his kisses. And all the time he’d been using her as a pawn in his deadly game. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and a soft moan escaped her lips. She didn’t notice Dirk enter the gaming room, didn’t see his face light up when he spotted her alone in the bar.
“Olivia.” He stood beside her chair and she looked up, startled. “You look like you could use some company.” If he was aware of her distress, he was wise enough not to comment.
She indicated the chair next to hers with a careless wave. “I can’t begin to tell you what I could use right now.” Picking up her glass, she was surprised to find that it was empty. “Except maybe a drink. A strong one.”
Dirk looked at her curiously, but motioned for a waiter. “You sound upset about something.”
“You could say that.” Drumming her fingers on the tabletop, she studied them as though they belonged to someone else. She stopped abruptly, then turned to the Englishman. “Dirk, I’d like to ask you something. You look like a man who’s seen a lot of the world. Tell me, are you often wrong about people?”
He shrugged, and seemed relieved at the appearance of the waiter. “Not very often.” He sipped his drink, studying her over the rim of the glass. “What about you?”
“I’m the same.” She thought for a moment. “For example, when I do interviews for my stories, I can usually spot the people who are telling me what they think I want to hear.” She gave her head a brisk shake. “That’s what makes me so angry about being taken in. I’m supposed to know better.” She stared into her glass, and when she spoke her voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m not really engaged, you know.”
He seemed surprised. “You’re not?”
She fingered the diamond on her left hand. A sad smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s a long story. But right now, that’s the least of my worries.”
“We’re talking about Josh, right? That was his name, wasn’t it? The American?”
She nodded, glancing over his shoulder to scan the room. Josh must be playing poker, she reasoned, since he wasn’t at the baccarat table. Oddly enough, she found that she cared how he was doing.
“I met him about a week ago at a reception for a friend.” She unconsciously twisted a corner of her shawl. “He said he needed an entrée to the high stakes poker games. Since I’d done that article I was on good terms with top management people in most of the exclusive clubs. The engagement was simply a cover story.”
“Why did you agree?”
Her eyes flashed and she answered angrily. “Because I had a temporary lapse of sanity, that’s why.” She lifted her brandy snifter, and the liquid burned as it slid down her throat. “But I intend to rectify that. I’m going back to London in the morning. I’d go tonight if I could get a flight, but I happen to know it’s too late.” She raised her glass again, missing the flare of alarm on Dirk’s face.
“Steady on.” He lounged back in the chair. “It can’t be as bad as all that. What’s he done?”
She ignored the warning bells going off in her head. “Actually, it is, and you’ll agree when I tell you what I learned tonight.” She leaned forward. “I found out from a reliable source that he’s trying to buy Semtex. And RPGs.”
Dirk allowed his shock to show. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Someone I trust was in one of the bathroom stalls and overheard the whole conversation.” Unable to face the incredulous expression on his face, she lowered her head into her hands. “Oh my God, what have I done? I can’t believe I blurted that out. It was without a doubt the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done in my life. Can you possibly erase it from your mind?”
“Can you?”
She frowned. “That’s an odd thing to say. But no. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.” Her eyes lost focus, staring into another time. “I saw enough death and destruction on my recent visit to Afghanistan to last me for the rest of my life. I saw civilians killed and maimed and guess what? The weapons used were provided by someone just like him. As if those people didn’t already have enough hardships.”
She sat for a moment, lost in thought and then turned to him abruptly, laying a hand on his forearm. “I know I can’t take back what I said, but please believe me that it would be better if you forgot about it.”
He nodded silently. “What are you going to do?”
Olivia stood up and pulled herself together with a visible effort. “I’m going to get out of here just as soon as I can. As I said, it’s too late to get a flight tonight but I’m going home to pack and I’ll leave first thing in the morning.” She looked at him, misconstruing the concern in his eyes. “Don’t worry about me, Dirk. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe so, but I’ll see you to a taxi anyway.” He escorted her outside and into a waiting car. “I’m sorry things worked out this way,” he said with a reluctant grin. “I was beginning to enjoy your company.”
“Good night Dirk,” she said vaguely, leaning forward to give directions to the driver. She didn’t notice him staring after the departing car, his brow creased with worry.
* * *
Olivia tossed her suitcase onto the bed so hard that it bounced on the soft mattress. She had to calm down. First, she would pack. She needed time to think, time alone. Then she would allow herself the luxury of anger.
Within a few minutes, she was ready for her departure in the morning. She slipped into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, hauled her suitcase down the stairs and shoved it behind one of the massive planters.
She padded back into the house on bare feet and lifted her face to the soft evening breeze. It drew her past the pool, where the moonlight shimmered on the water. Had it been just this morning that she’d massaged Josh’s back, dreaming of a more intimate relationship? “No,” she cried aloud, trying to shut out the memories.
Choking back a sob, she wandered onto one of the paths that wandered through the garden. The scent of lavender soothed her and she inhaled deeply, aware as she did so that her heartbeat was returning to normal. Below her, the lights of Monte Carlo beckoned invitingly. The same lights she’d looked at last night but now the sparkle had gone out of them.
Seated on the bench, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them as though warding off any further pain. Then she rested her chin on her knees and allowed herself to think back over the events of the past week.
* * *
The truth was, she didn’t really know Josh Morgan. Dark and dangerous, he had breezed
into her life like a sudden summer storm, and she had been swept along, intoxicated by his presence. Looking back now, the signs had been there, but she had ignored them. The way he’d pretended to be attracted to her. That hurt, but she would get over it. The private jet, the villa… she realized now that it was all an elaborate front. She wanted to hate him for what he was, to hurt him in the worst possible way for whatever part he was playing in the insidious world of illegal arms. And yet she had to admit that every touch, every caress–and yes, that electrifying kiss earlier tonight–made her heart sing in a way she’d never experienced before.
Foolish! That’s what she was. Foolish to consider her own feelings at a time like this. He belonged in that dark, sinister world that existed with no regard for other people’s lives. It was too horrendous to imagine.
She tilted her head to one side, as though listening to a distant sound. The hair began to prickle on the back of her neck the way it did when one of her stories took an interesting twist. The pieces of this puzzle weren’t fitting together. Alex had said that he would trust Josh with his life. Could he have changed so dramatically since they’d served their countries together? It was possible of course but why would a rancher from Montana be involved in the sale of illegal arms? Alex had never been to Josh’s ranch so she didn’t know for sure that he was a rancher, but the weathered features, the legs and arms sculpted to perfection by long hours of riding and manual labor…these were definitely not characteristics one would associate with an arms dealer. Her mind raced. Could Marc and Francine have been wrong? Could it have been a mistake? With a groan of frustration, she raked her fingers though her hair. She wanted so badly to believe in him, that she had almost convinced herself it wasn’t true. But the facts didn’t lie…did they?
* * *
The front door slammed and she slipped off the bench and stepped behind a large flowering shrub, her heart pounding.
“I’ve already told you. She wouldn’t tell me.” Dirk’s voice was pitched low, the tension in it palpable. What was he doing here? Whatever his reason, he sounded like he was losing patience. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
