Harrow Honey Trap
"Private investigator Amara is hired to catch cheaters. When her mark Clifford turns out to be innocent—and interested—she faces a choice between business and pleasure."
The job was simple: flirt with Clifford Banks at the Harrow wine bar, see if he took the bait. His wife was certain he was cheating.
Amara had done this a hundred times. Wear something revealing, play dumb, watch them crumble. Men were predictable.
Clifford wasn't.
"I'm married," he said when she offered to buy him a drink. "Happily."
"That's sweet. But sometimes happy people—"
"My wife hired you, didn't she?"
Amara's poker face cracked. "Excuse me?"
"I've been expecting something like this. She's been paranoid since I got promoted." He smiled. "You can tell her I passed the test. And maybe you can tell me your real name?"
"How did you know?"
"You're too confident. Women who approach men in bars usually have some nervousness. You walked up like you were running an operation." He sipped his wine. "And you're far too beautiful to be interested in a boring finance guy."
"Maybe I like boring."
"Nobody likes boring. They like comfortable, stable, secure. Different things." He set down his glass. "What's your name? Your real one?"
"Amara."
"Amara. Beautiful." His eyes traveled over her. "And yes, I noticed. But noticing and acting are different things."
She should have left. Job complete, man innocent, bill the client.
Instead, she sat down. "Your wife's very suspicious for no reason."
"She's insecure. Childhood stuff. We're working on it." He flagged the bartender. "What are you drinking?"
"I really shouldn't—"
"You've already ruined your cover. Might as well enjoy the evening."
He had a point. She ordered wine.
They talked for two hours. His career, her unusual profession. The ethics of honey traps. The nature of trust and jealousy.
"Most men would have failed my test," she admitted.
"I'm not most men."
No. He definitely wasn't.
"I should tell your wife everything," Amara said as they left the bar.
"You should. And I'll show her this conversation happened exactly as I'll describe it." He hesitated. "But I won't mention how much I enjoyed talking to you."
"Is that relevant?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
They stood in the Harrow night, something unspoken crackling between them.
"You're married," Amara said.
"I know."
"And I just tried to trap you."
"I know that too." He stepped closer. "But here's the thing, Amara. This is the most interesting conversation I've had in years. And I can't stop thinking about what happens next."
Nothing happened. Not that night.
She filed her report. Clifford was faithful. Case closed.
Three months later, she got a call.
"It's Clifford. My wife and I are separating. Her choice—she couldn't get past her suspicions no matter what I did."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not, actually. We'd been unhappy for years." He paused. "I've been thinking about you."
"I've been thinking about you too."
"Dinner? Properly this time. No investigation."
"I'd like that."
Their first real date led to many others. Eventually, Amara stopped taking honey trap cases.
"Conflict of interest," she explained. "Hard to catch cheaters when I'm happy."
Clifford proved as faithful in their relationship as he'd been in his marriage. More, actually—because this time, trust flowed both ways.
"How did we start again?" people would ask.
"She tried to trap me in a bar," Clifford would say.
"He didn't take the bait," Amara would add.
But looking at each other, they both knew the truth. He'd taken the bait eventually. They both had. And neither one regretted getting caught.