Liar Liar (2 page)

“What?” Jess dragged a hand through her hair. If he could see her now in a baggy gray t-shirt and mussed ponytail, he’d run for the hills. “What did you say?”

“Er… according to our online data.” The voice sounded flustered. She heard paper shuffling. “On occasion, when certain quotas have been met, we invite a select group of singles for an all expenses paid vacation, courtesy of LoveLines.”

“Quotas.” Jess leaned back against the headboard. “Uh-huh. What’s the catch?” She wasn’t a Certified Fraud Examiner for nothing. She had a suspicious mind and she knew how to use it. The caller was nervous.

Another pause. “No catch. Your contract guarantees that you’ll have a successful experience. We just want to make your fantasies come true.”

Oh, she had some fantasies, all right.

But it was more likely that they wanted to coerce her into another round of matchmaking hell. “And it’s just coincidence that you’re offering this vacation right before my trial subscription is up?”

“Ms. Barlow, we’re an exclusive dating system using the latest technology. Your free trial is set to expire and we’d like to continue to be of service to you. The loss of your subscription would be far less expense to us than the cost of sending you on a dream vacation.”

Jess sighed. He had a point. Plus, she could get more dirt from the inside and the only way to know if they were legit was to track customer service on their guarantee. No way around it. She was going to shell out an outrageous business expense to stay in the game.

“Depends on where this dream vacation takes place. I’m fair skinned,” she said, thinking of the hunky swim trunk model with regret. “I burn easily.” No cheap Mexican motel for her. No way, no how. “And I’ve been just about everywhere.” Sex on the beach was definitely overrated.

Her idea of a good time was taking things at her own pace, without having to answer to anyone. Jess felt her lips curve into a smile. If LoveLines wanted her to ante up time and effort for a super improved set-up, it would cost them a little creativity and a lot of dough. This guy would have no way of knowing how to entice her. She wasn’t the average Jane, looking for love in all the wrong places. Not even under the guise of infiltrating this bogus company’s claims.

“We’ve reviewed your profile,” the caller said. “What would you say to a week of uninterrupted relaxation in the rugged wilds of Montana?”

“I’ve never been,” she admitted, trying to sound uninterested. “But I’m not sure if ‘rugged’ is my idea of a dream vacation.” She had to admit, being holed up in the mountains like Grizzly Adams had a perverse appeal to her. She’d finally use those horseback riding lessons her mother had insisted on when she was a gawky teen.

“The Horseshoe Ranch has every amenity--gourmet chef, maintained wildlife preserve, even a spa. You won’t believe how beautiful it is up there.” The caller’s voice deepened. She caught the hint of a drawl in his soft speech that made her cheeks warm. "They don't call it Big Sky country for nothing."

Mmm, that voice! Jess sat up. “Sounds interesting.” And so did he. Her fingers started to drift towards her waistband. Damn her neglected libido.

“It’s all here in the brochure, Ms. Barlow,” he practically purred. The sound set her thighs quivering. “Eight men and eight women will be offered this opportunity. No schedules, no preplanned activities, no tipping. All expenses paid--air fare, lodging, excursions, even food and beverages. It would be a shame to turn it down.”

She paused. That would please the office bookkeeper. “All expenses, huh? What happens if I don’t accept?”

“One of the men will have to be cut from the group.” The voice turned to steel over the phone wires.

Jess rolled her eyes. They really knew how to lay on the guilt! “Fine, send me the paperwork. I don’t accept sales calls over the phone. You have my profile, so you have my pertinent info. I’ll give you my answer when I see it all in black and white. Okay?” Plus, the documentation could be added to her investigation file.

“That will do for now, Ms. Barlow. Good evening.”

She swore she could hear the guy smiling through the phone wires. Shaking her head, Jess ended the call. Without hesitation, she grabbed her laptop and punched the name into the search engine. H-o-r-s-e-s-h-o-e L-o-d-g-e.

The resort homepage materialized, complete with breathtaking photos. She clicked a few times, checking out the images of the immaculate rooms decorated in rustic timber furnishings with plush down plaid coverlets, excursion tours for hiking and horseback riding, and the soothing spa schedule.

“Not bad, eh Pinky?” she asked. “We could do worse. We
have
done worse.” Jess held her breath and clicked on the price list for accommodations. When the page loaded, her breath exploded from her lungs. This place was a fortune. Even on her decent salary, there was no way she could afford it, even for a few days. A whole week? LoveLines must be getting some major group discounts.

The phone jangled again.

“Now what?” Jess grabbed it without checking caller ID. “Look, mister, you have some nerve. I said send me the paperwork.”

“Send who what?” Suze sounded puzzled.

Jess groaned. “Sorry, thought you were someone else. How’s things?”

“Guess who showed up here in Bar-ba-dos?” Suze chimed.

Jess had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “He didn’t.”

“You got it, hon. Stan!” Suze bit off the ends of her words.

“No kidding,” Jess shook her head. They’d planned this trip over two years ago, and she’d had to cancel once her divorce was final and the opportunity for promotion had reared its ugly head. She never dreamed Stan would take the trip without her….

“Did you hear me? I said your ex-asshole is living it up right here on your ticket. We never dreamed he’d still show up once things were…Hey!” Suze squawked.

The phone jostled and Caroline’s slurring overly-loud voice blared through the handset. “He’s an ass, Jess. Always has been. It’s time he got his.” The phone jostled again. Jess winced and pulled the handset from her ear.

“Give me that.” Suze sighed. “You should’ve come with us, hon. You need a good lay and Stan could use a dose of his own medicine.”

It wasn’t easy when her two best friends were partying in a tropical paradise and she was stuck at home. Working.

“Stan’s with his latest bimbette, no doubt. Who cares?” Jess ignored a stab of injured pride, shouldered the phone and clicked the “Photos” page on the Horseshoe Lodge website. “I’ve got to work.”

“Work, schmerk.” Suze snorted. “You should have seen it. I thought Caro was going to dump her perfectly good mojito down the bimbette’s backside. You know how she gets.” She paused when Jess made a noncommittal noise. “What’s got your panties in a twist this evening? You sound more prickly than usual. Your latest gig not going well?”

Jess sketched the details of the call from LoveLines and described the lodge from the resort page, including the prices.

Suze paused then gave a low whistle. “Sounds like fun. Maybe they get a corporate discount…frequent fliers and all. You’re going to go, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. It could be risky. Montana’s…not really a hotspot. What if there’s a bunch of duds and I’m trapped in a freak snowstorm?” Jess fiddled with a loose thread on her comforter.

“Then turn off the lights and put a bag over their head, honey. You’ll be warm enough.” Suze’s laughter tinkled over the phone line like champagne flutes toasting to Jess’ personal misery. In the background, a man shouted and jaunty disco beat started. “Seriously, Jess. This is your chance. No one there knows you…what you’re really like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jess tried to sound offended. No one knew her better than Suze. They’d been friends since grade school.

“You’re so convinced everyone is up to something. Everything’s black or white with you, hon. Wound up tighter than a yo-yo. It’s about time you did something for yourself. Let those inhibitions go—find some shades of grey. If that lodge is half as nice as you make it sound, the spa alone must be to-die-for. Besides, don’t you need to go ask someone questions or something for your investigation?”

“I suppose,” Jess mumbled. She wasn’t really that polarized, was she?

“Uh-oh, Caro looks primed for trouble. She’s fixated on Stan! I’ve got to run, but let me know how it works out. Kisses!”

The phone line fizzled and went dead.

Jess bit her lip. Maybe she should go…after all, she was trying to pose as a real client. If only she had half the nerve Suze and Caroline had when it came to men. Suze had always had it easy. Blonde, leggy and beautiful—even through the awkward teen years, Suze was a stark contrast to Jess. If Suze hadn’t been such a true, honest friend to her, Jess might’ve felt a little insecure growing up in her best friend’s glamorous shadow. When things had gone south with Stan, most of her supposed friends had looked the other way, embarrassed to have known about his philandering for so long. But not Suze or Caroline. Without Suze’s support in that first year, Jess might never have had the nerve to embark on a career as a C.F.E. She’d worked hard to snag a promotion that would make her financially secure.

This solo investigation would be the means to finally make it.

Her gaze wandered to her laptop, still circulating digital images of what looked to be a mountain delight. Someone was going to an awful lot of trouble to make good on LoveLines’ guarantee. She knew their national marketing hinged on the advertised guarantee of “complete satisfaction of our exclusive clientele,” but this seemed over and above the call of duty.

Eight men and eight women stuck at a five star resort for a week, all expenses paid?

Jess screwed up her courage. She was supposed to be legitimately attempting to use the LoveLines system. She had more than enough vacation time saved up and she hadn’t had sex in over a year. Or good sex in over five. Even if the select “highly desirable” guys turned out to be total disappointments, it was worth the trip. Maybe she could get some individual testimony from other clients. It’d be a huge help to her case if there were other unsatisfied clients. She’d check the offer thoroughly, but unless there was a major flaw, there was no way she was going to turn this opportunity down.

“Pack your carry on, Pinky. We’re going to Big Sky country.”

***

Matteo Brandt set the telephone receiver on the cradle with an audible click and a grunt of relief. She’d taken the bait. To his left, his sister Seneca gave him a concerned smile.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked. “She isn’t going to like being tricked, you know. This could totally backfire.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matteo shuffled the papers into order on his polished mahogany desktop. On the top of the pile, a digital photo of Jessica stared back at him. He traced a fingertip over the curve of her pert nose. “It can’t be a coincidence. She’s following the same pattern. Scarce meetings, nonexistent personal contact, weird questions when she does date…she’s a plant for an investigation.”

“She could be for real.” Seneca flipped her hair out of her eyes. “She seemed pretty torn up about her ex-husband’s infidelity. Maybe she just hasn’t met the right guy, yet?” Her dark brows waggled.

“Yeah, maybe.” Matteo shrugged. “The system works,
mi hermana
. She just needs a little encouragement.”

“And you’re just the horse charmer to coax her, eh?” His sister compressed her lips. She didn’t approve of his plan to use his own charm to back up company promises.

“Me or someone else. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is ‘someone else’ is a client looking for a relationship. You’re just…window dressing, Bro.”

Matteo winced.

She was right, of course. But from the moment Seneca had handed him Jessica’s profile and interview tapes for posting, Matteo had taken a personal interest. Maybe more personal than he should. Her profile was intelligently written with a wry sense of humor that appealed to his jaded side. In her video interviews, she seemed opinionated and self assured, but not arrogant. She had a sweet vulnerability that he liked in a woman. And that face…he’d have gone for her even if she hadn’t been out to ruin him.

Matteo stifled the urge to clench his fist. Beauty be damned. This was just another problem to be solved. And Matteo was a master problem solver. His competitive edge in the market was honed and sharp.

As the CEO and creator of the multimillion dollar dating company, LoveLines, he’d seen and had his share of women. It was how he’d built his empire, catering to a higher level of clients--tech savvy consumers willing to pay extra to find love--or at least what passed for love these days. He knew every feminine type, from the quiet ingénue to the man-stalking cougars prowling for young men with hard bodies and even harder heads. Men who liked to be broken by a woman with experience.

He’d been a man like that once.

It was true what they said. Once you got over the first heartbreak, it got easier. He’d stopped looking for love and started selling it.

Seneca tapped a pen on her clipboard. “She’s gotta go for someone, Matteo. I’ve emailed every eligible bachelor within a one hundred mile radius, and even a few ineligible ones, just in case she’s in to that kind of thing.”

“And?” He already knew the answer. He’d read her file cover to cover.

“
Nada
.” Seneca made a noise of exasperation.

So, Jessica didn’t take the bait. She’d gone gamely on a few first dates, enough to have half the tri-state area drooling for a second chance with her. After initial contact, though, the red-hot redhead had cooled, declining any further contact with the selected bachelors. It’d be just a matter of time before she sent in notice that they’d failed to find her guaranteed match.

Just like the client who’d falsely accused him of fraud.

Matteo rubbed his jaw in frustration. Every penny he made from LoveLines went into keeping the family horse ranch afloat. The pending lawsuit, the press coverage…even if he could prove the complaints were based on the client’s refusal to participate honestly in the program, the damage to his business and reputation would be done. He should have expected the plaintiff to hire an accomplice to corroborate her unfounded charges.