Why did she have to be hot? And what kind of woman went around smelling like vanilla? Like a fucking cake waiting to be tasted. I watched as Fake Scarlet swayed her hips through the crowd and stopped next to a man studying one of the paintings.

“Did she agree to knock it off?” Elias walked up to my elbow, a drink in each hand.

“Yeah.”

“What was her excuse?”

“She didn’t have one.” I followed the curves of her legs up to where they disappeared under her tight red skirt, then the flare of her hips, the dip of her waist, and the ample breasts on display from her low-cut top. I’d always had a thing for redheads, and this girl was firing on all cylinders.

Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Are you listening, man?”

“Yeah. Sorry. What was that?”

“Did you at least get her real name so we can keep her honest?”

“No.”

He shook his head and tsked. “Did you do anything useful besides drool all over her fine, fine ass?”

“She kept distracting me with the”—I waved my hand in a general arc—“porn.”

“It is pretty damn distracting.” He stared at the clowns doing a circle jerk on the wall to our left. “I can’t stay long. Claudia bought our tickets for this event, so she’ll be expecting me to put out tonight.”

“Thank you for your sacrifice.” I couldn’t take my eyes of Fake Scarlet who was still talking to the same guy.

She moved in closer to the man. Besides the fact that she was clearly out of his league, I didn’t like her getting close to him. Not one bit. Then I saw her pale, delicate hand slide under his suit coat. No more than a second later, she’d slipped his wallet into her clutch.

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Huh?” Elias downed one drink, then started on the second as his on-again, off-again, apparently on-again girlfriend walked up to us.

“She’s a thief.”

Elias shrugged. “Look man, I know she’s using your name, but I don’t know if that qualifies as actual theft. Especially since you aren’t really Scarlet Rocket, either.”

“No, I mean.” I narrowly resisted the urge to point. “She took that guy’s wallet.”

“We should tell the gallery owner.” Claudia craned her head back and forth, her model height giving her an advantage over the crowd.

“Hell no!” I quieted when several people turned their heads at my exclamation. “We can’t have it getting around that Scarlet Rocket is a petty criminal.”

Claudia threw her long blonde hair over one shoulder. “Fine. Have it your way.” She grabbed Elias’s hand. “Let’s get dinner and then fuck.”

“I told you.” Elias put on a browbeaten look. “Voracious.”

“Poor you.” I saluted Claudia. “Have fun tonight.”

“You coming?” Elias asked as Claudia pulled him away.

“No, I think I’ll stay a little longer. See what else Fake Scarlet gets up to.”

“Well, good work tonight, I guess? Not really. Maybe a little?”

“Yeah.” I was too focused on Fake Scarlet to give them a proper goodbye. She’d moved away from the man who was light one wallet and started chit-chatting with a woman in front of a sculpture that, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out. It wasn’t body parts, or was it? Maybe. Nothing was obvious in the mush of flesh-colored sculpture. But somehow it seemed sexual in the way the possible-dong-looking pieces sort of lay along the flappy-looking pieces.

I edged closer, pretending to study a cock collage that took up a large chunk of wall space. Obviously, that piece was done by a man.

“—loved every bit of his jewelry from last season.” Fake Scarlet smiled big and admired the woman’s necklace.

“Well, thank you. I like to tell my husband I have wonderful taste. And you’ve just proven my point.”

Scarlet took the woman’s hand and patted the back of it. “You tell him it’s Scarlet Rocket approved.”

Goddamnit. And worse, when Fake Scarlet drew her hands away, she’d removed the woman’s bracelet and dropped it into her bag.

I stepped up. “Scarlet, another word?”

She gave me a dead-eyed stare, but jerked her chin toward a spot where fewer people congregated. “Fine. Wonderful meeting you, Minnie.”

“Same to you, Scarlet.” The woman beamed.

“Was her name really Minnie?”

“Yes.” Scarlet whirled and crossed her arms over her stomach. “What do you want now?”

“You’re still pretending to be me!”

She smirked. “So?”

I could have strangled her. Maybe made it look like a BDSM art installation, just so it would seem legit. “Didn’t we just discuss this not ten minutes ago?”

“We did.” She scanned a group of women to my right, no doubt looking for what she could lift.

“Do you steal everything?” I stepped closer so she was forced to look at me.

“I don’t know what you mean. Like I said, my name’s Scarlet Rocket, so—”

“Cut the shit. Unless you’re a stripper, your name isn’t Scarlet Rocket.”

“It is.” She batted her lashes, the deep brown of her eyes dragging me down while her sweet vanilla scent tempted me.

“Prove it.”

“How can any one of us actually prove who we are?” She ran her fingers along my jacket. “It’s really an existential crisis sort of question.”

I grabbed her wrist. “Keep your sticky paws off.”

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such bad behavior. I would never take something without permission. You should be ashamed of yourself for harassing me like this. I’m perfectly innocent of whatever it is you think—”

“Blah blah, lies lies.” Despite my exasperation with her, my fingertips stroked the soft skin on the bottom of her wrist.

Her gaze dropped to my mouth for a split-second before returning to my eyes. She pulled her wrist away. “You’re bold.”

I almost laughed. “Me? I’m the bold one?”

She stepped back, then her eyes widened, focusing on something behind me.

“You took it!” An older man barreled past me, his cologne almost knocking me over before he even reached my orbit.

“What?” She pressed a palm to her chest, drama rolling off her breathy word.

“Don’t do that coy act with me. I just reached for my money clip, but it’s gone. I had it when I got here. It had to be you.”

“What’s going on over here?” A statuesque woman in a ridiculous outfit consisting of black and white cubes strode up.

Fake Scarlet shrank back against the cock collage, a cartoonish mushroom head perilously close to her ear. She glanced toward the door, but people began to gather around us, wondering what the bother was. No escape.

“She took my money clip.” The man pointed at her, and all the chatter around us ceased.

“Scarlet?” The cubist woman turned to Fake Scarlet. “What’s he talking about?”

“He’s lying.” She kicked her chin up. “That’s preposterous.”

“Check her bag.” The chump surged forward.

“Hey!” I stepped between them. It was a flash of temporary insanity, perhaps brought on by the ungodly number of dicks within my field of vision. Or maybe I was trying to save the Scarlet Rocket name. Or maybe I didn’t want her to get caught—no, surely that wasn’t it. “You need to step away from her.”

Problem was, the angry chump was correct. I had no doubt Fake Scarlet had his money clip in her possession at that moment. I slipped one hand behind my back and held it there, hoping she’d take the hint. “Everyone just calm down. I’m sure Scarlet—” Had I just been forced into legitimizing the imposter? “—hasn’t taken his wallet.”

Fingers slipped inside the waistband of my pants, and then extra pressure before my suit coat flipped back down. She’d ignored my hand and stashed her stolen goods in my ass… Well, the ass of my pants.

The sputtering accuser was making enough of a show that no one seemed to notice her sleight of hand.

The gallery owner clapped. “Quiet, quiet.” She turned to Scarlet. “I’m sorry, dear, but would you mind terribly if I checked your bag?”

Fake Scarlet stepped out beside me. “Not at all.” She handed her clutch to the cubist.

Chump watched as the cubist opened the bag and pulled out a compact, a cell phone, and a floral print wallet.

“Is this yours?” She waved it at the accuser.

“Of course not.”

“You never know.” She shrugged and replaced the items, then handed it back to Fake Scarlet. “I’m very sorry about this, my dear.”

“It’s fine.” Fake Scarlet had the acting ability to appear unruffled, though she had to be going to pieces on the inside. I was. Or maybe she was used to these sorts of scrapes.

“It had to be her. Maybe she’s stashed it in her outfit.” He took a step toward her, his chubby hands grasping.

Hell no. I blocked his path and glowered down at him. “You’ve made a big enough ass of yourself already. Don’t add assaulting this woman to the list.”

“But she—”

“Let me put it to you this way.” I leaned down until we were eye to eye. “If you lay a finger on her, there will be exactly two hits. I’ll hit you, and you’ll hit the floor.”

The accuser’s mouth opened, closed, opened, then shut with a snap.

He stared death rays at Fake Scarlet, but backed away. “It was stolen by someone here. I expect full compensation.” He’d turned his bullying words on the cubist.

“Henry,” she called to the doorman. “Please escort this gentleman from the premises. If he refuses to leave, call the police.” The cubist turned and addressed the crowd. “Please get back to your drinks and the fabulous art.”

The accuser allowed Henry to show him out, though he grumbled the entire way to the door. If he’d tried to make a move toward Fake Scarlet again, I would have made good on my threat. She may not be on the up and up, but that was no reason for some ponce to lay his hands on her. Once he was gone, murmurs started up and quickly returned to full volume.

“My apologies again.” The cubist took Fake Scarlet’s hand. “I hope this won’t result in a bad blog entry about the gallery.”

Fake Scarlet shook her head. “Of course not. The art and the rest of the company were wonderful. I can’t wait to write a glowing piece for my readers.”

“Thank you.” Relieved, the cubist wandered into a nearby group that perused a photograph of an octopus lying across a man’s pointed member.

“You owe me one, you know th—” I turned to Fake Scarlet, but her red skirt was already disappearing through the front door and into the darkness beyond. “Shit.” I hurried out behind her, doing my best to walk normally despite the extra cargo in the seat of my pants.

She turned down the side street at the edge of the building. I rushed past the doorman and followed her around the corner into a dimly lit alley.

Leaning against the wall, she smirked. “About time. Give me the goods.” She opened her bag and stared at me.

“Seriously?” I reached behind me and scrabbled at the items she’d stuffed in my pants. A wallet came loose, then another. I snagged the money clip, but the bracelet got away and skittered down my leg, landing with a plunk on the cracked pavement.

“Hand them over.” She shook her bag.

“No way.” I knelt to pick up the bracelet.

She shifted from one heeled foot to the other, her fair legs luminous in the faint streetlight. “I could knee you right now, take the stuff, and run.”

I shot up, goods in hand. “You’d do that? After I just helped you?”

She shrugged. “It’s the name of the game. But I didn’t do that at all, did I? I warned you. One good turn deserves another.” She held the open bag out farther. “Now give me my turn.”

“These are stolen.” I shook my head and glanced at the purloined cache. “Hey, this looks like—” I jumbled the wallets into one arm and felt my back pocket. “You took my wallet!”

She flinched, then a sly smile spread across her crimson lips. “Well, you can keep that one. No hard feelings, right?”

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to take a slow breath. Fake Scarlet was pressing every button I had, and reminding me why I was an introvert to begin with. “I’m not giving these to you, so you may as well close your little bag and go on your way.”

She wrinkled her nose and huffed.

“And you have to stop pretending to be Scarlet Rocket!”

Her eyebrows lifted, interest playing across her face. “You give me the goods, I’ll stop saying I’m Scarlet Rocket.”

“We already tried that. Your word is no good here.” I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and cradled the others in one arm.

“Then we’re at an impasse.”

“No. We’re done.” I strode back toward the gallery. “I should turn you in. Call the cops. Tell everyone you’re an imposter.”

I had no real intention of doing any of that since my future was riding on the Scarlet Rocket name, but she grabbed my arm and yanked. “Wait.”

“What?” I glared down at her.

“Untwist your manties.” She eyed the money clip. “I’ll let you give the stuff back, but promise me you won’t call the cops.”

“Afraid to face the music?”

“No, just not a fan of jail cells.” She tore her gaze from the cash and met my eyes. “Please.”

I should’ve refused her, but her deep brown eyes inspired a special sort of acquiescence—one based on my dick doing the thinking for me. “I won’t tell.” I sighed. “I’ll just drop this stuff in the mail to the gallery tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed my forearm.

I stuffed the wallets in my coat pocket along with the cash and bracelet.

She sighed. “Can you at least give me cab fare back to my place?”

“What?” I shook my head at her. “You have absolutely no shame.” Heading back toward the gallery, I stepped out to hail a cab that was already coming to a stop.

“It’s only twenty bucks or so. Come on. Help me out.” She smiled up at me, her eyes glittering.

I wanted to tell her no, but then an idea struck me. “I’m not paying your entire fare, but let’s share.” Knowing where she lived could come in handy if I had any more problems from her.

The back door of the cab opened. “Willis!” My agent, Linda, stepped out. Her harsh, platinum blonde bob, oddly smooth skin for her age, and black cat-eye glasses were unmistakable. She slammed the cab door and grabbed me, dotting air kisses on each cheek. She smelled like a liquor cabinet, but I didn’t judge. She was one of the best agents in New York, and I wasn’t about to second-guess my luck in landing her.

Her eyes cut to the side. “And this must be Scarlet Rocket.” She winked at me and grabbed Fake Scarlet for the same air kiss treatment. “Honestly, Willis, you should have at least told me. I’m your agent after all.”

“Told you what?” I reached for the cab door, but it pulled away. Great.

“That you’d found someone to play Scarlet Rocket.” She took Fake Scarlet’s hands and held them out. “You are the perfect actress for this. The hair, the eyes, the style.”

“Thanks.” Fake Scarlet smiled and gave me a sideways glance.

Devious little minx.

I couldn’t get my bearings. “How did you even know—”

“Oh, please darling. I’m Linda Carnavatta. There isn’t a thing that goes on in this city that I don’t know about. Your actress debuted last weekend to rave reviews. When I heard she was at the gallery tonight, I couldn’t pass up a chance to see her in action.” Linda shouldered what appeared to be some sort of faux fox pelt with ruby eyes. “And she’s perfect. I can’t believe you pulled this off without any help from me.” She patted my cheek a little too hard. “But it’s brilliant, and it works.”

“No, you’ve got this all wro—”

“I’m so pleased that you think I’m up to the task of being Scarlet Rocket.” Fake Scarlet beamed and clasped Linda’s hand. “It’s really a dream job for me.”

Linda raised a brow. “Don’t oversell it. That’s part of Scarlet Rocket’s allure. Sexy but aloof. Great at giving advice, but needing none herself.”

Fake Scarlet dropped her hand and straightened, lifting her chin with what I realized was Fake Scarlet’s signature confidence.

“Much better, my darling.” Linda nodded. “That’s the show people will pay to see.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I grabbed Linda’s arm and pulled her away from the imposter. “This isn’t what you think. This is a fake Scarlet. Don’t you see?” I realized my words were insane babble, but how could I explain that Fake Scarlet was…well, fake in the fakest sense of the word? “She’s a con artist, not an actress.”

Linda leaned over and peeked at Scarlet, who stood behind my back. When Linda straightened, she said, “She’s perfect.”

“Did you hear what I just said?” The urge to grab her and shake some sense into her seemed like a bad move. I managed to keep my hands to myself, barely. “She’s a con. A thief. An imposter!”

“And what are you?”

I let my head loll back on my shoulders and stared up at the inky night sky. No stars to be seen. “I’m a blogger.”

“No, you’re an artist. You write. You’ve written a wonderful book that will no doubt help thousands of people, hopefully millions of people, reach their relationship goals. Your blog has already helped so many. Now, it’s my turn. Let me help you. Trust me.”

I met her gaze. “I trust you. But she’s a different story.”

She smiled and patted my cheek, gently this time. “The different stories are the very best ones.” Sweeping past me, she pulled a card from her tiny handbag and gave it to Fake Scarlet. “Call me in the morning, and I’ll have legal send you a contract. We’ll also need to set up a meeting with all three of us to discuss the game plan. Until then, I expect you to be on your best behavior.” She held up a hand to hail a cab. “And I should warn you, my darling. I’m an old hand at trickery and games. As my mother always said, ‘Don’t kid a kidder.’ Are we clear?”

Fake Scarlet nodded. “Yes. What’s the pay?”

Linda leaned closer, the two women speaking in hushed tones as my blood pressure rose. After a few more murmured words, they shook.

“Good.” Linda stepped away from the curb as a cab pulled up.

“Where are you going?” I sounded like a lost child, the world moving too fast for me to keep up.

“Miriam Gallant is exhibiting inside. You aren’t my only client, you know?” She sashayed toward the gallery. “Ciao for now, my darlings.”

Fake Scarlet—though now I supposed she was just Scarlet—looped her arm through mine. “Looks like you’ll be paying my cab fare after all.”