Page 25 of Fool Me Twice

“Ask her.” Reeva inclined her head in the direction of Evie’s steely glare.

“Ask her what?” Evie said, returning her attention to the carrots she was massacring.

Reeva gave a small chuckle. “Ask her how it’s going. It’s been, what, two weeks now?”

“Which part do you suggest I ask her about?” Evie stabbed at a carrot. “Should I ask about the progress her client is making, or ask her how her quest to secure her next meal ticket is going?”

“How do you mean?” Reeva asked as they watched Bex cavorting about in the pool, wearing nothing more than a big toothy smile and a couple of scant pieces of pink Lycra that barely covered her tanned body as she bounced about, supposedly encouraging Peter to complete the width. Did she really need to wear such a skimpy swimsuit? And who wore make-up in the pool? Not for the first time, Evie wondered if Bex was there to do a job or if she had her eyes on the bigger prize.

Not that Peter was a prize. But he was famous, and rich and, she grudgingly conceded, quite handsome in a Stanley Tucci kind of way. Which she totally didn’t get.

“Well, look at her.” Evie nodded in their direction. “Anyone would think she’s auditioning for a photo shoot. Seriously, who wears that much make-up in the pool? It will clog the pool filter if she spends much longer in there.”

Reeva threw her head back and laughed uproariously. “Clog the pool filter? Come on, Evie, it’s not like we’re talking industrial levels here. It’s just a bit of make-up.”

“Still.” Evie sniffed. “Physiotherapy is meant to be hard, challenging work, and I don’t think strutting around in a few bits of string is very professional.”

“Since when did you care about what people wore? Technically, I guess, Matt may wear more clothes, but let’s be honest, his shorts leave nothing to the imagination.”

“That’s different,” she snapped.

“Er, how?”

“It just is.”

“How?” Reeva persisted.

“Because... because...” Evie faltered, unwilling to acknowledge the answer to herself, let alone anyone else.

“Because what?” Reeva placed her hand on Evie’s shoulder. “Admit it, Evie, you’re jealous.”

Evie was outraged by her suggestion. “I am not,” she said indignantly, shrugging off Reeva’s hand.

“Really? I know I am.” Reeva nudged her and smiled. “Will you look at her? She’s gorgeous. A bit of an airhead, but still gorgeous.”

Evie shook her head. “Did you actually want something?”

“Yeah, there’s someone on the phone for you.”

“Seriously, Reeva.” Evie frowned as she wiped her hands on some kitchen paper. Who was she more angry with? Reeva for speaking the truth? Bex for being so young and gorgeous and using her assets to her best advantage? Peter for, well, for being a man, taken in by a pretty young girl massaging his ego? Or with herself for caring?

Chapter fourteen

Peter had felt Evie’s eyes on him and, to his shame, had to admit that he’d probably been a little more enthusiastic and animated in his conversation with Bex than he’d needed to be. But so what? Evie was always parading her relationship with Matt right under his nose. He’d been treated to another audio from the Matt and Evie sexual-acrobatics show the previous night.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evie turn away from the window and tried to drag his attention back to Bex and their session. With her incessant chatter about celebrities he’d never heard of and inane questions like “Do you know Kim Kardashian?” or “Do you think Kourtney and Scott will ever get back together?” she was really beginning to annoy him. How should he know what this guy Scott and his “baby mama” were doing? He didn’t even know who “Scott” was.

By the end of his sessions, he often felt exhausted, not from the physical exertion, but mentally. And lately, Bex kept mentioning some site one of her friends was on, SugarDaddy.com or something. She thought it tacky to sign up for something like that; it was degrading, she’d said. But on the other hand, she’d purred while gazing up at him from beneath her fresh set of Russian lashes – yes, he’d had a blow-by-blow account of her lash appointment, too – she had no objection to dating an older man, if, say, she’d met one on a night out, or through work maybe.

He got the message. She’d made it very clear, but if truth be told, Bex and women like her scared the life out of him.

Rolling his neck from side to side, he cut her off as soon as she started on about some Instagram influencer she thought Peter should follow. “I think we’ve done enough for today,” he said, cutting her off before she mentioned helping him to set up an account again so that they could post some photos of his sessions and record his recovery.

As if. The last thing he wanted was photos of him looking like an old man, all banged up and hardly able to walk all over the internet.

“Oh.” Bex stuck out her bottom lip. “Are you sure? Because we’ve still got about twenty minutes left of the session. Although...” Her face brightened. “I enjoy spending time with you, so it doesn’t really feel like work, does it?”

“Er, no.” He managed a weak laugh. “But, you know, I’m not twenty-five anymore and don’t have the stamina I used to.”

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