The Right Twin (Times Two Book 2)

by Laura Marie Altom

  Heart pounding, palms sweating, she took a deep breath. “Shane, I—”

  “Sadie, I’ll stay if you want me to. All you have to do is say the word and I’m yours.” He leaned over to kiss her with such tender urgency she couldn’t ruin the moment.

  Even if it means saving what could be your only shot at sharing a future?

  “I want you to stay,” she said. “I really, really do.”

  “But…” He kissed the top of her head, then returned to his overnight bag, tossing in a paperback that looked as if he’d never even cracked the spine. “Don’t worry about it. I understand about your sister and I’ll be back ASAP.”

  “I know, it’s just that…” Her eyes misted. Never having thought of herself as the crying type, yet at it again, she brushed at her tears with the backs of her hands.

  “Hey,” he said softly, cradling her cheeks, making her feel alive and tingly and one hundred percent female in the way only he ever had. “I’m a phone call away. Or if you’ve changed your mind and you think your sister can handle being around me without causing certain—” he cleared his throat “—necessary body parts harm, then I’ll be happy to stay. Otherwise…”

  The pregnant pause said it all.

  Otherwise he needed to get on with packing.

  She needed to suck it up and let him go.

  “You’ll probably need this,” she said, slipping off his hat.

  “Keep it.” He pressed a butterfly-soft kiss onto the tip of her nose. “It looks way better on you.”

  Throat aching, she nodded.

  “Smile for me, okay? It’s not like I’m heading off to war—just St. Louis.”

  “It has bad neighborhoods.”

  “Granted, but not anywhere near my place.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded before landing the sweetest kiss to her lips. “I’m heading out,” he said. “You stay here. Take a nap before your sister arrives. After all the work you’ve done this weekend, you deserve a break.” With one last squeeze to her shoulders, one last fleeting kiss, he opened the door, then gently closed it, leaving her feeling more alone than ever.

  Hugging herself, giving in to the tears she felt as if she’d held at bay her entire life, Sarah snuggled back into the king-size canopy bed. Shane had only been in it for two nights, and yet it still smelled of him. Clean and masculine and good.

  Shane.

  The man she somehow, some way had grown to love already. Impossible but true.

  Next weekend, once she’d broken the truth to Sadie, she’d tell Shane. Until then, she’d indulge in that nap, dreaming of their reunion. When there’d be no more secrets between them. Only a love she prayed he felt strongly enough to be able to forgive.

  CLIMBING FROM THE passenger side of her Land Rover, Sadie called over her shoulder to Trevor, “Sweetie, would you please feed the swans? I’m worried that Sarah may have forgotten, and it looks like she never found the gardener’s number.” Shaking her head, she added, “I knew I should’ve called him Friday morning before we left.”

  “Give it a rest,” Trevor said, stepping up behind her to cup her shoulders. The air in the garage was stuffy. Thick with a mingling of scents from the grainy swan feed to the faint smell of gas used to fuel the weed-eater and the riding mower—both items she kept on hand in case of shaggy lawn emergencies such as this. “The guy was celebrating his anniversary. If he couldn’t turn up at his regular time, what makes you think he’d have wanted to do it this weekend? Babe, relax. The place looks great. I’m sure that the reviewer loved it.”

  “I know,” she said, stomach fisting as she suddenly felt unbearably tense. The weekend had been long and strange, and it was good to be home. Home, where she could think. Breathe. “If she saw fit to grant five of her silver spoons, my every worry will be over.” At least her every business worry. As for personal matters, Trevor had yet to set a date for their wedding. Would he ever?

  “Now that you’ve redone the garage,” Trevor said, “where’d you put the overgrown-goose grub?”

  “Right there.” She pointed to the large plastic tub alongside the immaculately boxed Christmas lights. In her daily life, she was the very embodiment of organizational perfection. Why, then, did her personal life feel like a shambles?

  “Found it,” Trevor said. “Go on. I’ve got this handled. I’m hardly a Farmer Ted kind of guy, but I can see how antsy you are to discover what shape the inn is in.”

  “Hey,” she teased, kissing him, “this is going to be your place, too, one of these days.”

  “That’s right,” he said, kissing her back. “Assuming, that is, I ever find a place in my busy schedule to make it official?”

  “I wasn’t going to say anything, but…”

  Kissing her again, he said, “I’ve put a lot of time into thinking about this subject, and it occurred to me that I’ve always been a kid at heart.”

  “Yes…” Her heart pounded.

  “As such, what would you think of a Christmas wedding?”

  “You mean it? There’d be an awful lot to do between now and then. Putting a proper wedding together takes time. I’d have to stockpile baked goods and—”

  “Lord, help me,” he said on the heels of a groan, tugging her into a hug. “I love you, but as tight a ship as you run, this place’ll be the death of me.”

  “Hopefully not till you’re a hundred or so.”

  “God willing,” he whispered into her hair. “That sounds just about right.”

  Behind them, a swan hissed.

  Laughing, they parted.

  Heels of her hands to her suddenly stinging eyes, she flashed the man she loved a brilliant smile, took a moment to compose herself, then tossed back her long blond hair and snatched her rose floral overnight bag.

  A Christmas wedding. Perfect.

  “Looks like I’d better get to feeding your brood.”

  “Thank you, Trevor.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “I don’t mean the swans.”

  “I know.” For a long time they stood there, gazes locked. “Thank you, too, Sadie, for putting up with me for all this time. I can’t wait to marry you. I’m just sorry it took me so long to finally reach that conclusion.”

  While Trevor went off to feed the swans, Sadie ambled toward the inn. The place that wasn’t just her livelihood but her lifeblood. With Trevor by her side as her husband, the future shone incredibly bright.

  With him at the lake, Sadie aimed for the back porch, about to burst with happiness and dying to share the news with her twin. Her wonderful, perfect, fabulous twin whose help had allowed her and Trevor this much-needed time, which had obviously helped him make a decision about their wedding.

  She’d just reached the herb garden when a man called out. “Sadie?”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a good-looking stranger charging her way across the blacktop lot and then the lawn. He’d left a leather bag alongside a black Jeep, and in his hand he carried a small white paper bag.

  “Hon,” he said with enough shaded emotion in his voice to infer they were best friends—or more. “I thought you were inside?”

  “I—I was just headed that way,” she said, “but who are you? How do you know my—”

  Marching straight up to her, he kissed her fast and hard and in such a blazingly intimate way that her long engaged heart stormed with guilt.

  “Damn, I’m going to miss you.”

  Fingers to lips that were raw with confusion, Sadie had just processed the fact that this rogue kisser must’ve mistaken her for her sister—her apparently misbehaved sister—when from out of nowhere Trevor appeared.

  As luck would have it, the stranger still held her in his arms.

  “Let her go,” her fiancé railed, yanking her free. “Who do you think you are, just walking up to a woman and—”

  “Sadie?” Heath asked, unfazed by the Nordic Neanderthal’s rough touch yet devastated at the thought he’d apparently been duped by the sec
ond woman he’d loved. Yes, it sounded crazy even to him, but somehow during the depressingly brief weekend he had grown to love this woman.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Apparently there’s been a misunderstanding.”

  “You think?” Mind and heart spinning, he urged, “Sadie, please. Talk to me.”

  Staring, she shook her head, her look not one of returned love but of pity.

  He wasn’t remotely afraid of a fight, but he was terrified of losing her forever before she’d ever truly been his. Hale had been right. She was engaged. Dammit, how could she have done this to him? Talked with him. Laughed with him. Kissed him, when the whole time she’d been promised to another man? What the hell had he been to her? Some kind of twisted game?

  Slow-burning fury clenched his fists.

  Oh, he knew her game all right. Even as her fiancé hustled her across the lawn toward the house, Heath muttered under his breath on the way to his car, “You’re a fantastic actress, Sadie. All along you played me for a fool.”

  And to think he’d been worried about his comparatively insignificant lies to her. Lies that hadn’t especially hurt anyone but rather had helped.

  Damn Sadie Connelly to everlasting hell.

  Damn her to the degree she’d eternally damned him for falling in love with her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  What was the commotion outside? Were the Standridges carrying on again?

  Clutching Shane’s hat to her chest, Sarah scooted from the bed to go to the window, parting lace curtains to peer outside.

  No.

  The word shuddered through her, as did the horror of having seen Sadie, Trevor and Shane together. No, no, no. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel.

  She was on the verge of chasing after him to explain whatever interpretation he had of what he’d seen, when from down the hall came serious clomping. “Sarah? Sarah, you up here?”

  “I’m here,” she said, her voice raspy from too many tears.

  Oh, boy, time for the crap to hit the fan.

  “There you are,” her twin said, practically running into the room. “Good grief, I’ve looked everywhere for you. You’ll never believe what happened to me just now—or maybe, seeing how you’ve obviously gone against my wishes and…” Her eyes narrowed as she rounded the foot of the bed. “Sarah?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Why did a man I’ve never met kiss me like we were lovers? Did you…?”

  “No.” But she’d wanted to make love with Shane, assuming that’s what Sadie was implying.

  “Sarah…” Her twin’s voice was lethally low. “Please don’t tell me that instead of impressing my guests—the Zodor’s reviewer, for heaven’s sake—you’ve been up here indulging in some fling?”

  “I could tell you that,” Sarah said, nibbling her lower lip, “but, um, it wouldn’t be one hundred percent true.”

  “Oh, God.” Her twin did a melodramatic flop onto the rumpled bed. “Let me get this straight. Not only did you ignore the reviewer but you launched a relationship with this guy—as me?”

  Gnawing her lower lip, Sarah fought for just the right words but found none. Finally she said, “Look, if anyone’s seriously hurt here, it’s me. I know that reviewer was important to you, and your guests were, too, but Shane’s come to mean more to me than the outcome of your stupid review.”

  “Excuse me, but my livelihood isn’t stupid. I’ve worked years to build my reputation. So help me, if you’ve in any way affected either my own or my inn’s integrity with this stunt, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Sarah fought, straightening to her full height, which unfortunately was the same as her adversary’s. “Didn’t you hear me? I love him. Shane Peters is the one and only man who’s ever been able to make me forget what happened between me and Greg. Trust me, I thought—Shane and I both thought—long and hard about even kissing. But—”

  “Stop.” In a move straight out of fourth grade, Sadie covered her ears with her hands. “I can’t stand hearing his name anymore. Thanks to you, I could be ruined. Where is the reviewer? Is she still here?”

  “Huh? Sadie, I—”

  “Listen, what’s done is done. I’ll sort it out in the morning. I hope.”

  Oh, sure, Sadie’d sort out the mess with the inn, but what was Sarah supposed to do about the mess in her heart?

  “HEY, BRO,” HALE BROWN said, strolling into his twin’s office, which looked more like a cross between a fast-food joint and a video arcade. Red-and-black checkered carpet formed an eye-popping foundation for sumptuous black leather sofas and chairs, along with a freakish array of full-size pinball machines and video games. What his twin, Heath, lacked in charm, he more than made up for in cold, hard cash and awesome toys. “How’re they hangin’?”

  “Shriveled and to the left,” his brother mumbled, quoting a line from one of their favorite Jim Carrey movies, Liar, Liar.

  “Damn. That inn not live up to expectations?”

  “Oh, trust me, I got waaay more than I’d ever in my wildest dreams expected. Try the hottest kisses ever. Then turning me into the biggest fool when I found the sex-kitten proprietress not only with another guy but wearing his ring.”

  “Back up.” Hale staggered into a deep chair. Scratching his head, he said, “I told you Sadie’s engaged. If you didn’t believe me, then it’s your own fault.”

  “She told me they broke up.”

  “She obviously lied.”

  “No joke.”

  With a deep sigh, Hale rubbed his eyes. “The bit about her long-standing engagement was even in her bio. Didn’t you read it?”

  “Why would I? You told me this weekend was going to be a cakewalk. You told me all I’d have to do was eat, sleep and chat.”

  “Right. That’s exactly what you were supposed to have done. So would you mind going back over that kissing part?”

  “What can I say, man? She was hot.” But beyond that, she was so much more—at least Sadie had seemed to be before he’d discovered her true mission, which was playing him for a fool.

  Rubbing his face with his hands, Heath’s twin sighed. “You know this puts me in a hellacious bind? Obviously your take on the place is going to be skewed.”

  “Sorry. It’s not like I did it on purpose. I thought we’d made a connection, but apparently the only thing the woman was interested in was getting some kind of sick revenge on all of manhood. And trust me, judging by her acting skills, she’d have stopped at nothing to get it. Oh, and she can’t cook, either. I’d planned on overlooking this, but the more I think about it, the more I’m certain she didn’t make a damn thing all weekend.”

  “Bro…” Face scrunched, his brother said, “I see where you’d be upset, but one thing’s for sure—Sadie Connelly is a master chef. She needs no help when it comes to wowing guests with her culinary skills. That in mind, what possible reason would she have to dupe you in the kitchen? Let alone the bedroom? I mean, seriously, you’re a good-looking guy and all, but none of this makes sense.”

  Heath, holding firm to his fury, kept his mouth pressed shut. Fine. Hale didn’t want to believe him, so be it. But as far as he was concerned, Sadie deserved the most scathing review ever written in Zodor’s one-hundred-year history.

  Tapping his chin with his index finger, Hale said, “This is voodoo.” Standing, pacing, he asked, “Tell me specifics. How was Sadie a bad cook?”

  Heath shrugged. “Hard to say. Her debut meal was so-so. One of the guests commented that it tasted like a TV dinner. Sadie’s next couple meals were heaven on a plate.”

  “And after that?”

  “Disaster again. She made blueberry pancakes that tasted like chewy blue sponges.”

  “Whoa. She messed up her trademark pancakes?”

  “Yeah. They were awful. Why?”

  “Give me a minute.” Hale marched to Heath’s computer, then typed the inn’s Web address. When the home page popped up, showcasing the place in all its sun-drenched glory, Sadie smiling from the front porch st
eps, he called his brother over. “Come here. I want you to verify something. This is the woman who ran the inn, correct?”

  “Duh. Who else would it have been?”

  Hale reached for a pen, tapping it against the desk. “And you say there were times this woman couldn’t cook?”

  “Depends. Do you think a master chef would use store-bought cookie dough?”

  “Now I know something’s not right. Those cookies are another thing she’s famous for.” Hoping to find some clue as to what might’ve transpired, Hale clicked the mouse onto the Meet Our Staff page. Clicking on Sadie’s smiling picture, he was redirected to another screen, this time with not one Sadie but two. “I’ll be damned…”

  “What?” Heath leaned over him.

  “Get a load of this.” He tapped the flat-screen monitor. “Brother, I do believe we’ve fallen victim to our own game. I’d bet my shiny new racing trophy that you weren’t with Sadie this weekend but with her twin, Sarah.”

  SARAH WAS WILING AWAY her Monday by moping on a window seat in the gorgeous lavender Maya Angelou-themed suite that had been designed for poets and lovers, not scowling singles. She should’ve gone home to lick her wounds. The elegant floral wall-paper was doing nothing to improve her mood. Nor was the tricked-out white marble bathroom with its whirlpool tub for two. And while she was on the subject, the king-size lace confection of a canopy bed sucked, as well. As for the lavender potpourri Sadie insisted was supposed to brighten her mood—don’t get her started.

  So why was she here? Using a vacation day that would have been better spent in Tahiti? Simple. Sadie’s cooking was so good it was almost medicinal. As an added benefit to hiding out in Winchester, she could mope in relative anonymity. The last thing she needed on top of a broken heart was a bunch of girlfriends telling her what she already knew: that she’d been foolish to fall for a guy so fast—again.

  In a way, the fact that she and Shane appeared to be at the end of their brief fling was for the best.