Fool Me Once (First Wives #1)

Reed stared at her. “China? That’s it?”

“Hey, I don’t speak Chinese. It was scary.” What she failed to mention was that she was meeting a potential client of Alliance. A businessman looking for an American bride. The scary part took place when, on behalf of Alliance, she passed on the man as a client. He had a violent side she picked up on shortly after meeting him in person. “What about you?”

“My biggest adventure?”

“Or the biggest step outside your comfort zone?”

He hesitated. “I voted.”

The wine Lori sipped burned when she started to laugh. When her eyes started to tear up, she took a drink of her water.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Voted? That’s outside your wheelhouse?”

“Well, yeah, what if the guy I voted for won by one vote? What if he sucked or started a war? That’s a lot of responsibility.”

He was messing with her, but she liked to laugh.

“Ever been married?”

He nodded. “Once. You?”

“Once. I was really young. No kids. You?”

He opened his eyes wide. “Oh, no. I’d be a terrible dad.”

Their salads arrived and they kept talking. “Sounds like I found something outside your comfort zone.”

“What about you? You’re beautiful, and obviously have your life together, with trips to China and this.” He pointed around the room. “Why aren’t you married?”

“Not interested.” Which was only half-true. Romance had been stripped out of marriage with her profession. “I like being in control, and marriage feels like giving away half of that.”

Reed lifted his glass. “To the Not Interested Club.”

Seemed Lori was drinking to all kinds of clubs this week.

They’d finished the bottle of wine and shared a froufrou dessert.

Even though neither one of them talked about their daily life, they managed to carry on a conversation for two hours.

“Nightcap?” Reed suggested.

She placed a hand over her stomach. “I don’t think anything else is going to fit.”

“Let’s take a walk, then. I’m not ready to say good night.”

“And if I am?”

“You’re not.” He turned her toward the doors leading to the deck.

“How can you be so sure?”

The warm breeze caught her hair and started to pull it out of the clip she used to pull it off her face.

“Because if you wanted to end this night, you’d have said so by now. My guess is you’re trying to determine if you’re going to sleep with me or not.”

Her jaw dropped. Not because he was wrong, no, he was completely right about that. But that he’d said it aloud.

“I am not!”

“Not thinking about it, or not going to?” He leaned against the railing and charmed her with his smile.

“Neither.”

“Liar.”

“Oh my God. You’re so full of yourself.” She tried not to smile back at him and failed.

“Because I say what we’re both thinking?”

“I am not—” Her denial died on her lips when Reed took one step closer.

“Let me change that.”

His kiss silenced any protest she had. Gooseflesh rose on her arms, her neck . . . and butterflies fluttered in her belly like she was a virgin tasting a man’s lips for the first time. He reached for the back of her neck, held her like he wasn’t going to let her get away. Nothing was further from her mind.

“Open for me,” he whispered.

Reed’s eyes were warm, his thumb traced the side of her neck.

Lori opened her mouth and reached for him. His tongue found hers and made itself at home. She tasted the cinnamon that had laced their coffee.

Cinnamon and Reed. The two would forever be branded into her mind by this simple kiss.

Her fingers fanned over his chest, touching him through his shirt, and she closed her eyes.

Footsteps of someone walking by reminded her that they were standing on the deck of a ship and not somewhere private.

She pulled away.

Reed placed his thumb under her chin. “You’re even more stunning when you’re aroused.”

“I am not arou—”

He lifted both eyebrows.

“Okay, fine.”

“Glad we cleared that up. Now let me walk you to your room.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“To say good night. I think I’ve taken you past your comfort zone enough for one night.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

At her door, he kissed her again. This time pushing her up against the wall, the weight of his body reminding her how long it had been since she’d welcomed a man into her bed. Then, before she could change her mind, Reed took the key from her hand, opened her door, and pushed her inside.

And then he left.





Chapter Eight




By the time the ship pulled into position for the day, Reed was up, showered, and logged in. He started with Shannon Redding-Wentworth. From mainstream media to gossip magazines, Shannon was everywhere. She came from a wealthy family, married Paul Wentworth while he was campaigning for the governor’s office in California. He had brought himself up to speed on her story before he arrived on the ship. His client knew about the cruise but didn’t have knowledge of who she was sailing with. Reed knew his client was looking for something scandalous by way of a romantic interlude with the former first lady and would be disappointed that wasn’t the case.

Reed backtracked through her life by looking up the private details of the governor. He found a wedding photo of the couple, and then another few sprinkled in at the reception. He clipped them into a file and moved forward to the announcements of the divorce.

Public records determined irreconcilable differences caused the divorce, much like nearly all divorces in the state of California. No one had to take the blame for a marriage gone bad in a no-fault state. There was mention of a prenuptial agreement removing any ability for Shannon to ask for more during their divorce. None of this was new news.

He clicked around until he pulled up a statement from the attorney mediating the Wentworth divorce.

He smiled. The law office of Lori Cumberland gave the official press release in regards to the high profile divorce.

He found an image.

Lori wore her hair up, and the tight black skirt and office jacket with crisp lines were nothing like he’d seen her in since they met.

He followed the ball and searched for recent mentions and images of Lori Cumberland. The one that caught his eye he’d seen before, only it hadn’t meant a thing to him until now.

Trina. The quiet beauty who hid behind massive Kardashian-style sunglasses was none other than Katrina Petrov. New York stood in the background of the picture he found, which had been taken less than a month earlier. Katrina in widow’s black, at the cemetery where she buried her husband. At her side were Lori and another woman Reed took a second look at. He switched back to Shannon’s wedding photos.

A petite woman with auburn hair was the same woman flanking Lori and Katrina at the funeral. Dark glasses, her hair pulled tight to her head. Reed took a closer look. Designer red soled shoes, a dress that belonged on a fashion runway even if it was appropriate for a funeral.

Money.