One Night Wife (The Confidence Game 1)

From inside the shelter of Cal’s arms Fin looked for the heckler. He sat on a couch, a black man with walker by his side, an unlit cigar in one hand, and a whisky in the other. He winked. He was her new best friend forever.

“Thank you,” she said. “I was having trouble getting him started.”

Cal tucked his face into her neck, laughing, and the heckler shook his head ruefully. “Men these days. No gumption.”

“They need so much reassurance,” she said, making a production out of patting Cal’s back.

“Hope now we got him started he doesn’t clap out on you. Would be a terrible thing.”

She was about to express agreement, but Cal called a stop to it by scooping her up in his arms and she whooped instead.

“Old folks these days,” Cal said. “Gotta watch ’em. Never know when they’re going to spot a good opportunity and try to steal it from you.”

He swept out of the room to a shock of laughter, and when he put her down, she said, “That was—”

He put his hand over her mouth. “Don’t say it. If you say it, it happened.”

She peeled his hand away. “How very superstitious of you.”

“You were the one who said I sold men their own souls.”

She laughed. “That was a little creepy. Who was that old guy?”

“Bernie Warren. Runs an investment firm. Could buy out the Astors without raising a sweat. Gives all his money away. He’s one of the good guys, but if he tries to look up your skirt again, I will take an eye.”

“He uses a walker.”

“Likely excuse.” He took her hand. “Time to introduce you to Alex and Paris.”

They went out onto the lawn area where there was a big open-sided marquee pitched and a famous DJ spinning house electro swing and at least a hundred people milling about.

Alex was tall, built, and handsome. His good looks somehow survived his arrogance, and that proved how unfair the world was. He high fived Cal; he eye-fucked Fin. His new fiancée wasn’t two feet away.

“Glad you could come, Cal,” Alex said, looking directly at her.

Cal made prayer hands, help me, and his voice got rough. “Congratulations on setting a date.”

“Just an excuse for a bash. The weed is mellow, the E is good, the coke is better, but stay out of the ocean after dark because it bites.” He gave Fin the once over again. “If this shithead leaves you all alone, lovely Finley, you come find me and I’ll bite you and you’ll love it.”

She almost laughed in Alex’s face. No one talked like that. No one who wasn’t an enormous try-hard douche. She and Cal needed a new cue, one that said, OMFG, this guy.

“Charming.” Cal said. “Fin has a microfinance charity, and you’re going to be a regular donor.”

She looked at Cal. Hell of a shortcut. She could hold on to her purse this time.

Alex waved a hand. “Whatever. You know how to get to my money. Make it work.” He drifted away. “Come find me and hang out, charity girl.”

She watched Alex go. He turned around twice to see if she was checking him out, and she didn’t bother to pretend she wasn’t. It was like watching an accident about to happen, and in this case, knowing it never would. “Did he tell you to help yourself?”

Cal growled. “He’s an idiot. I know his banker and his lawyer. You’ll get a slice of him.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve already got a slice of him. It’s the only reason I can stand breathing the same air he does. Stay away from him and his posse.” He jerked his chin to show her the posse. A group of men snorting lines off a woman’s bared belly.

“For some reason, I thought rich people had more class,” she said.

“You can’t buy class,” Cal said, and then, as if to challenge the point, introduced her to Paris.