Fool Me Forever (Confidence Game) Page 8

  “That’s like my sister telling me she’s not having sex or doing drugs. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel relieved or disturbed by that.”

  “I wish this was different.” No amount of wishing was going to close the gap between them.

  She tipped her head and hooked her hair behind her ear. “Since I can’t use the information you gathered, we’re done with each other, nothing but an expense account lunch.”

  “And a good waltz.”

  That got the ghost of a smile. “You did give good waltz.” She shut it down quickly. “If you weren’t casing the joint, that means you were only at the gala to check up on me.”

  There were a lot of reasons he’d gone to the gala. He hadn’t lied to Lenny, there was no point starting now. “I really was gathering information and making friends with people who are not fans of the esteemed prime minister. And I was checking up on you.”

  She folded her arms and turned her head away.

  “That made you angry.”

  “I don’t need you to check up on me, and if I find you doing it again, I’ll take out a restraining order.” She stood, tossing her napkin on the table. “Thank you for lunch.”

  A man with a more agile tongue, a more honeyed way with words, would go after her as she swished out the door. Halsey faced his defeat like a man with a restaurant check to pay and an overwhelming requirement not to end up with a restraining order from the first woman he’d been interested in getting to know intimately for a very long time.

  And then he stepped out onto the street, and his restraint was totally blown. He saw it unfold in slow motion. Lenny standing on the sidewalk. The two men positioning themselves on either side of her. Lenny’s purse strap slipping from her shoulder as she typed on her phone, the fall of her hair shielding her vision. She was about to be mugged, and every deeply embedded instinct he had as a Sherwood and a man went on high alert.

  Chapter Ten

  Lenny almost lost her footing and stumbled when she was shoved sideways into a man who smelled like day-old sauerkraut. As a hand reached for her purse and latched onto the strap, she was lifted off her feet and pulled snug up against a firm body, her phone flying, her purse strap stretched between the bend of her elbow, and the man in front of her holding a short-handled knife.

  The thing to do would be to scream, to kick and struggle, but she was held fast and it all happened so quickly she was struck silent, and her body tensed into stillness.

  “Back off,” said the man in front with the knife, in a growl that made her gasp.

  “I saw her first,” said the man who had hold of her…in Halsey Sherwood’s voice. What?

  “I want the purse.”

  “Goes with the woman,” Halsey said.

  “Nah, man. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “But you’d happily hurt her.” She felt Halsey take a deep breath. “I was trying to do this nicely.”

  The knife wielder laughed. “Hand over the fucking purse.”

  Lenny was shoved again, this time behind Halsey as he let fly a punch that made the knife wielder stagger, but not let go her purse, jerking her hard into Halsey’s side.

  “Drop it and back the fuck off,” Halsey said, one arm holding her against his back.

  She’d been in these arms before, but she’d never heard Halsey’s voice go to that savage, threatening place. It was a relief to know it wasn’t directed at her.

  “If I hit you again, you won’t be getting up any time soon,” he said.

  She let go of her purse strap, let it slide down her arm. There was nothing inside it worth someone getting knifed for. Thrown off balance, the attacker rocked backward.

  In a neat move, Halsey snatched her purse out of the air and used it to knock the knife from the attacker’s hand, and it was all over, the knife clattering to the curb, and two men taking off between the stream of traffic.

  Halsey kicked the knife into a grate, bent to pick up her phone, and turned to face her. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, but you are.”

  He looked down at his knuckles, the skin broken and bleeding. “Ouch.”

  She took her phone and purse from him, rumbled inside for tissues, pressing a wad onto the back of his hand. Her own were shaking; her legs felt rubbery. Her phone screen was busted, and it wouldn’t turn on. “I don’t know about you, and it’s the middle of the afternoon, but I need a drink and you need a place to wash up.”

  He nodded and followed her back inside Excuse My French where she commandeered a towel and ointment from the barman and towed Halsey into the ladies’ room to clean him up.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said, as she ran the tap, making the water warm.

  “You didn’t have to take on a mugger.”

  He shrugged off his suit coat, laid it over the counter, took off his tie, put his cufflinks into his pockets, and rolled up his sleeves. It was the wrong time to focus on his forearms, on the sexy sleeve-rolling action.

  “He was high. He might’ve hurt you, Lenny. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

  Her heart was still galloping around her chest, adrenaline making her tremble as she took his hand and held it under the water, watching him screw up his face as it stung. “I’m fine. He’d have run off if I’d have let go of my purse strap as soon as he grabbed it.”

  “Maybe. He could’ve hurt you anyway. Made you go with him to an ATM. He wasn’t alone.”

  She turned off the water. Two figures had run into the traffic. “I didn’t see the second man.” She’d been shoved against someone, that cabbagey sauerkraut smell, before Halsey snatched her up. “It was all so quick.”

  “You had your head down.” He reached over with the hand she wasn’t drying and tucked her hair behind her ear. She almost pressed her face into his palm for the comfort of his touch, catching herself just in time. “They were watching for the right opportunity.”

  Her stomach was rioting. “I should’ve been more aware.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  It felt that way. Thousands of times she’d stood on the street with her face in her phone, unconscious of anything that wasn’t in the palm of her hand. Another feeling of security that was false, while the man in front of her was bad and wrong and inexplicably making her feel safe.

  She made him wince when she used the antibacterial ointment on his knuckles. “I’m grateful you were there, and you know how to throw a punch.”

  “I know how to throw a punch at a bag. That’s the first time I’ve ever hit a flesh-and-blood person.”

  “Really?” She checked his expression, and he shrugged.

  “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

  It might’ve been his words, or the fact he was so steady and capable, or because he looked like Paul Newman, or simply the desire to thank him in a more palpable way, but she leaned into his side, and when he shifted, opened up to her, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve got you,” he said, both of his arms folding around her back. It was all the welcome she needed. She wanted to rest her face on his chest, but she didn’t dare because she might never want to leave the thrill of his embrace.

  That was obviously the shock talking. She’d feel okay in a moment. There was no sunlight glinting off a knife blade, no crazed eyes, no tug-of-war over a hunk of dumb leather that cost more than was sensible, and no need to blame herself for being oblivious or rage against the vicious outbursts of men.

  “I’m only hugging you because I’m shaking,” she said, lest he got the wrong idea.

  “I’m hugging you because I like you in my arms. I’d prefer if it wasn’t because you’d just been attacked, and you’re worried you might rattle to pieces. It might also be better if we weren’t in the restroom.”

  “Right.” He must feel her trembling. She moved to pull away, expecting him to drop his arms, but he kept them loosely around her.

  “Give me a minute, I might not get this chance again.”


  She looked up to catch his expression. Was he joking? She’d said that about dancing. “Never hugged an emotional girl in the ladies’ room before?”

  “It’s another first.”

  He was difficult to read, despite his gentle smile. She so wanted this moment to be real, not some manipulation. It was no hardship watching his face to try to see behind his words. “You look like you could do with a drink.”

  He touched her hair, gently stroking down to the ends. “Sounds like a plan.”

  The gesture pulled all the air out of her lungs and sent her survival instincts on vacation. Jesus, what were they doing? She’d told him she’d take out a restraining order on him, and he’d come to her aid and looked like he wanted to kiss her. “A drink,” she said, voice so tight she had to clear her throat. “We should get that drink.” She wanted him to kiss her.

  He dropped his arms. They decided to leave his knuckles uncovered and both ordered whiskey at the bar.

  She swirled the ice in her glass, imagined it going to work cooling her temperature. She normally preferred fancy cocktails with amusing names in neon colors, but this was medicinal. “They’re going to do that again, those men.” They’d run off without their knife, though it wouldn’t be difficult to get a new one.

  “Most likely,” Halsey agreed. “It wasn’t spur of the moment. They didn’t wake up this morning and decide to be purse snatchers. They’ve done that before.”

  And despite Halsey landing a punch, they’d gotten away free.

  Just like Cookie Jar.

  “I hate that. I hate that they’ll pull that stunt again, maybe hurt some woman. I hate that Cookie Jar is just a purse snatcher on a grand scale, and he’ll get up every morning, shower under his gold taps, dress in his ten-thousand-dollar handmade suits ready to do it again.”

  “It doesn’t have to be that way,” he said.

  “I’m not even sure I could describe them accurately enough to the police, and they’re long gone.”

  “I meant with Cookie Jar.”

  She swiveled on her stool to face Halsey. “I thought you said your family couldn’t help.”

  “There’s no one who has time to run a major sting right now.” He lifted his glass and studied the last slurp as if it were the answer to some question she hadn’t asked. “Except me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t do that kind of work. It’s people work.”

  She clinked her glass to his. “Let’s hear it for Spreadsheet Man. Confounds them with calculations, wrecks them with sums.”

  He was facing forward, but his smile was unmistakable. “I prefer Excel Boy. Like Hellboy but with numbers.”

  And who knew she was as susceptible to Excel Boy’s dry sense of humor as she was to his true blue eyes and his steadying touch.

  He tossed back that last mouthful. “But you could.”

  “Me?” She almost gagged on that.

  “You could do the parts I’d fumble. If you were with me, maybe I wouldn’t fumble. I never saw myself as the kind of guy who would take on a knife-wielding mugger and win.”

  And yet, he’d given the impression he was a good friend of The Punisher.

  “You think we could work together to bring down Cookie Jar?”

  He looked at his empty glass and signaled the barman, who bought them fresh drinks. “He’d never see us coming.”

  “No,” she said so loudly the barman raised a brow at her and she had to wave her hand and point to her glass, so he didn’t leave her pour out.

  “It’s just a thought,” Halsey said.

  They sat at the bar with the fake impressionist paintings and the fake book wallpaper, and real blood drying on Halsey’s knuckles. The kitchen was on hiatus until dinner, and it was too early for the after-work drinks crowd; they had the place entirely to themselves.

  She should go. Any minute now, her adrenaline crash would meet her alcohol consumption, and the fact that she ached to lean into Halsey and have his arm at her back would feel like a good idea again.

  “How?” she asked, pushing the ripple of desire down.

  He grimaced. “You don’t really want to know.”

  What the hell, Excel Boy? “I didn’t really want to get mugged or give money to a charity that would misuse it. I really want to establish myself as an honest, reliable, heart-in-the-right-place person who can be trusted. I really want to restore my family name.” All reasons she shouldn’t want to sit on a barstool beside him, let alone develop a craving for his touch, a hunger for his kiss. “Right now, I want to know how you’d do it.”

  He put his glass down on a coaster and rotated it slowly between his thumb and first finger. “The way to catch a crook is to know what motivates him and help him be motivated. Once he believes he’s smarter than you are, that’s when you can lead him to where you want him.”

  What he was doing with the glass was making her wonder what it would feel like if his big, capable hand was on her bare skin and not politely at her back. Stop it! “Give me an example.”

  “The knife guy didn’t want your purse. He wanted money, credit cards, anything he could sell. Instead of hitting him, I could’ve paid him to go away.”

  “But he would’ve won.”

  Halsey took his hand off the glass and that was somehow as disappointing as his example. She’d thought it would be like the plot of a casino heist movie.

  “And the next time he tried, you’d say, ‘Wait, I have to go get the money, I don’t have enough on me.’ You’d go together, and you’d pay him, and he’d go away thinking what a fine business he had with you.”

  This was an appalling story line. “And he wins again.”

  “And the next time you lead him to the ATM, the police are waiting. And you’ve established a pattern for his crimes that’s impossible for him to wiggle out of. He goes down. You’ve taken him off the street.”

  A plot twist. Clever. “But there’s been a cost to me.”

  He turned to face her, a wry smile. “What price, justice?”

  She shoved his shoulder. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “It should be our family motto. Instead, it’s ‘You can’t cheat an honest man.’ Sure, there’s a cost: time, energy, cash. But you’re not a Sherwood.”

  “You mean it wouldn’t cost you?”

  “We’d run a scam, have Cookie Jar seeing so many dollar signs he’s motivated to invest money to make more.”

  It wasn’t an Oceans movie, but it felt doable. “This is not hypothetical, is it?”

  “No. Like I said, this isn’t my area of expertise, and I can’t pull it off alone.”

  Excel Boy had his professional limitations. “It’s a shame.”

  “Yeah. Men like Cookie Jar get worse before they get undone by greed. If they ever do.”

  She watched Halsey stare into his glass, a rueful expression on his face. “If, hypothetically, you had a partner in this scam, what would they do?” she asked.

  “They’d be the one to lay on the charm, add the color, movement, and sound.” He looked up and caught her watching him. “Kind of like PowerPoint Girl.”

  “Oh please.” She shoved his shoulder, making him grin. “No one uses PowerPoint anymore. And that’s not illegal.”

  He picked up his glass. “It’s not entirely innocent, either.”

  True. But it was also every occasion of hostessing she’d ever done for Dad.

  Halsey sipped his whiskey. “They’d need to be desirable and always just out of reach. They’d dangle the keys to the kingdom, which for Cookie Jar is respect, acknowledgment, and making powerful friends. They’d lead him to me, and I’d take his money, show him up for the dangerous, egotistical fool he is. His political enemies would use his disgrace to take their country back.”

  Now it sounded like all the Oceans movies slammed together in a marathon. “They’d be your accomplice.” That was what Fin had unknowingly been for Cal. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “I w
ould never expect you to.”

  And yet, he’d suggested it. “And you’re sure you couldn’t do this on your own.”

  He shook his head. “Excel Boy has no razzle dazzle in his game.”

  Halsey wasn’t a natural charmer, not one of those men who was all charisma and made you worry about the substance beneath the glamor. He was too buttoned up. From all appearances, he was credible. No one would know he was a con if you weren’t Lenny Bradshaw—and desirable, oh he was most definitely that. “You’re really sure you can’t put on an act?”

  He turned on his stool. “I don’t think Cookie Jar would find me in any way alluring.”

  She laughed. “Your accomplice needs to be a seductress?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt. He’s between wives. He’s in the market for the admiration of a beautiful woman.”

  “It’s good I don’t have a thing for cons.” She would’ve clapped her hand over her mouth, bitten her tongue to bring those words back. This particular con was still bleeding from having saved her from a mugging. “I’m not up for a game of seduction.” Words of warning.

  “Lenny.” His gaze was on her in the mirror again. “There’s no game. You only need to smile to make a man interested.”

  That should’ve come across as corny, but he delivered it with such earnest sincerity, it felt scarily real. She had no warning that her whole body would buzz.

  Why did he have to be everything that was wrong for her?

  She was the one who’d pushed this conversation; it was time to end it before she did something she regretted. She slipped down off her stool.

  He touched her hand lightly. “That was clumsy. Out of line.”

  She had to know. “Did I imagine it, or did you want to kiss me before?”

  He lowered his eyes. “I want to kiss you now.”

  Several vital organs dissolved in a wave of heat that swirled through her. “Then you weren’t out of line, but I have to go.”

  She left him at the bar. But the idea of being his accomplice in taking down Cookie Jar didn’t let go of her. Oh, it should have; it was impossible. But it followed her back to the office and then on to the phone store, and when all her attention should’ve been on claiming her insurance and choosing a new handset, it was on what it might be like to work with Halsey, to play a part, not innocent but not breaking any laws, in bringing down a man who was demonstrably criminal.