Fool Me Once Read Online Free

over the din. “Is someone suing me?” Sasha’s body slammed against the locked storm door. Prentice O’ Brien stepped back, his face showing apprehension.
    â€œNo!” the lawyer bellowed in return. “Can we go somewhere to talk where it’s a little more quiet?”
    Olivia brushed at her blond curls. “I’m afraid not,” she bellowed back as loudly as the lawyer had. “I’m running late, and, as you can see, I seem to have lost control here. Why don’t you call me later, around five.”
    The lawyer frowned. “Ms. Lowell, this really is important, urgent even. We need to talk.”
    Olivia turned around when she heard a sound reminiscent of a waterfall. Sasha was peeing on the hall carpet runner. Damn. She noted the look of disgust on the lawyer’s face.
    â€œSome other time. This situation is really urgent. Good-bye, Mr.”—she looked down at the card in her hand—“Mr. O’Brien.” She shut the door in the man’s face and raced to the kitchen for a roll of paper towels.
    Thirty minutes later she was still searching for Sasha’s glasses and Santa Claus hat. My father would have this under control, too. Damn .
    At three o’clock Sasha and all her gear were gone. Cecil’s handler still hadn’t picked him up. Anna Logan, the owner of Logan’s Bakery, arrived with a basket of new kittens. She wanted pictures to put up on the bakery bulletin board in the hope that some of her customers would adopt them.
    It was ten after five when Anna and the kittens pulled out of Olivia’s driveway. Cecil’s handler still hadn’t arrived to pick him up, which probably meant he’d forgotten about him. Just the way Alice’s owners had forgotten to pick her up three years ago. That had been Alice’s lucky day. Olivia loved Alice the way mothers love their children.
    At five-thirty the doorbell and the phone pealed at the same time. Ignoring the doorbell, Olivia answered the phone while Alice and Cecil raced to the front door and barked. Cecil’s handler was on the phone, asking if Olivia could possibly keep Cecil overnight, and he would be picked up in the morning by “someone.”
    â€œWell, sure, for fifty dollars an hour, Mr. Bannerman. I don’t operate a dog-sitting service. This is a photography studio.” She was told the fee would be no problem. After all, Cecil was the richest dog in the United States. She hung up the phone wondering what she was going to prepare for dinner as she made her way to the front door. She opened it. Prentice O’Brien.
    â€œWhat is it, Mr. O’Brien? It’s the end of the day, I’m tired, and if no one is suing me, I can’t imagine what you want to talk to me about. Make it quick.”
    â€œCan I at least come in, Ms. Lowell? It’s rather cold out here, and it is snowing.”
    It was snowing . How had she missed that? Maybe she’d build a fire later, snuggle with the dogs, and think about Clarence De Witt’s marriage proposal. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t think about Clarence De Witt’s marriage proposal. She didn’t want to be Mrs. Clarence De Witt. She didn’t want to be Mrs. Anybody. She liked her life just the way it was, thank you very much. “All right. This better be good and quick. Come in. Just so you know, Mr. O’Brien, I hate lawyers.”
    â€œUntil you need us,” O’Brien quipped. “Nice house,” he said, looking around as Olivia led him to the great room that ran the entire length of the house.
    â€œThank you. My dad did all the work, even this addition and the entire studio. He can do anything,” she said proudly. “This used to just be a two-bedroom ranch house, but Dad added two bathrooms, a third bedroom, and this great room. He remodeled the kitchen, too. He built the playhouse in the back for me when I was little.”
    â€œYour father sounds