Fool Me Once. Fern Michaels

      ZEBRA BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       www.kensingtonbooks.com

      I would like to dedicate this book

       to my lifelong friend,

       Betty Hugill Salyan.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 29

      Prologue

      Nineteen hundred sixty-six

       Oxford, Mississippi

      The three of them walked together, their arms linked, as they left the campus of Ole Miss. Their conversation, as they walked along, dealt with the unbearable humidity that blanketed the town—the whole state, for that matter. Their destination was the Moss Teahouse, run by Hattie and Mattie Moss, two spinsters who, if you believed the rumors, had lived forever and were never going to die because they belonged to the Moss Clan, whatever the hell the Moss Clan was.

      The reason the trio was headed for the Moss Teahouse wasn’t because they craved the watery, flavorless tea or the wilted cucumber sandwiches that the older ladies of the town devoured, but because none of their classmates frequented the teahouse. Who in her right mind wanted to sit in a dusty, moldy-smelling tearoom, staring out grimy windows behind limp ruffled curtains? The reason they were going to the teahouse was that Allison Matthews had something of the utmost importance to discuss with her two best friends. A secret, actually. No, what she wanted to discuss was more than a secret. It was a devilishly clever idea that would put them all on easy street for the rest of their lives. If, and it was a big if, the three of them had the guts to pull it off.

      The conversation drifted to final exams and how prepared each of them was. All were among the top five percent of their class, so there were no worries for any of them. Taking a Saturday off to deal with secret, devilish plans didn’t pose a problem at all. Their situation was far different from that of fellow students who had partied and cut classes, and now had to cram around the clock just to graduate from Ole Miss by the skin of their teeth and leave town with their heads up.

      There was nothing notable about the trio. They weren’t preppie, they certainly weren’t pretty, nor were they shapely or fashionable. What they were was bookish-looking. Bookworms. All three wore glasses and no makeup, but, then again, makeup wouldn’t have helped Allison’s hawkish features or Jill’s moon face, which was just as round as the rest of her. Gwen’s overbite and full lips would have cried out in protest if makeup had been applied.

      The three of them had met in the library and, out of necessity, quickly formed a bond. Four years of college demanded you have someone to pal around with, and they’d had good times, the three of them, even though they all lusted in their hearts to belong.

      In addition to their superior intelligence, the trio had another thing in common—they loved money. Late at night, when they huddled together, they’d talk about how someday they would all be rich and famous. Then they were going to meet up, go to their college reunion, and make all their hoity-toity classmates sit up and take notice. It was a dream, but one they knew would come to fruition if they worked hard and kept at it. Allison, their spokesperson, always said if you persevered, you would prevail. Allison never said anything unless it was true. Well, hardly ever.

      It was a pretty little town, not exactly your typical college town but close, and it was full of monster trees with hanging moss that at times looked eerie yet beautiful at the same time. The shops along the thoroughfare were quaint, with brightly colored striped awnings and multipaned windows that glistened in the brilliant April sunshine.

      The trio walked past Mulvaney’s drugstore, where the scent of Chantilly powder wafted through the open door. The girls stopped to look at the SALE sign on the front window. Prell shampoo and Colgate toothpaste were listed. Two for the price of one, but the girls weren’t interested. They shrugged as they continued down the shady street, past a hardware store so quaint it looked just as it would have fifty years earlier. Daniel Hawthorn sat on an old rocker under the front window, smoking his pipe. Next to him was a barrel of rakes and shovels, and huge bags of grass seed, the first and only clue that the building was indeed a hardware store. Mrs. Hawthorn believed in starched curtains, as did most of the shopkeepers. But curtains in a hardware store? Puh-leeze.

      “Well, girls, here we are,” Allison said, her voice sounding jittery. She made a pretext of looking inside the tearoom before sitting down on the white-painted bench in front of a bow window adorned with limp checkered curtains. Half-barrels that had been painted white and were full of flowers so colorful they looked like a rainbow in a circle graced each side of the bench. Everyone said Hattie and Mattie Moss had a green thumb and would have been better off operating a flower shop instead of a teahouse. Of course, no one said that to their faces.

      Jill Davis wiped at her perspiring face. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. “Are we going to stay out here or go inside, where