HIS DOUBLE, HER TROUBLE

by Donna Sterling

  The scents of soap and something stirringly male emanated from his skin and hair with the growing warmth. A need like she'd never known kindled deep inside her.

  The parries and thrusts of their tongues gradually turned from graceful to demanding. His strong fingers plunged into her hair and held her fast against him as he slanted his mouth this way and that to draw the most from every kiss. He nipped at her bottom lip, drew it into his mouth and slowly released it. She thought she'd swoon from the pleasure.

  Hoarsely he whispered, "I do want you, Brianna!" His hands swept down her back and bracketed her hips to his. He kissed her again and again. Without any conscious thought at all, she moved with him—and against him—in an erotic rhythm that slowly dissolved all coherent thought.

  The soft cashmere of her dress had to go. She wanted his skin against hers. Her fingers worked fiercely at the buttons, and as they gave way his mouth broke from hers to explore. Every touch of his questing mouth on her skin tightened the coil of hunger inside her.

  He tugged the dress partway down. She pushed it the rest of the way. Deftly he unhooked her strapless bra and tossed it aside, freeing her breasts. A groan tore from his throat as he captured them in his hands. His tongue edged around one highly sensitive bud … and then flicked lightly across it.

  She gasped, dug her fingers into his biceps and pressed against him. He suckled her to an aching hardness.

  Liquid fire pumped through her. He swept her up into his arms, his eyes burning sexual messages into hers as he carried her away from the flickering firelight, through cool shadows in the corridor, to a bedroom where he laid her down. Without breaking contact, he joined her, mouth to mouth, body to body.

  She reveled in the taste, the textures of his mouth, his skin, his hair, as she slipped deeper into a world of pure sensation, pure desire. She was movement and heat, friction and rhythm, blinding flashes and velvet darkness.

  Openmouthed kisses glanced off her neck, her breasts, her abdomen. Heat throbbed everywhere he moved; aching need built everywhere he didn't. He swept his tongue in a lingering path just above her bikini lace. A groan welled up in her throat. She wanted. Frantically wanted…

  Soft, mewling cries escaped her as he dipped within her panties, kissing and licking, working his way down. Driving her into a swelter.

  And then he touched her, the very core of her, with one warm, moist glide of his tongue. It was more than she could stand. Quicksilver pleasure pitched her right over the edge.

  With a shuddering cry, she doubled over. Waves of reaction hit her, deep crimson flashed before her eyes and she found herself quaking helplessly, enfolded in his embrace. "I d-didn't know," she finally gasped. "I didn't know it could b-be like this."

  He tightened his arms around her, and his heartbeat thundered against her ear. "I didn't, either." She felt the heat in him, like a fever, and the iron-strong tension still coiled in every muscle of his body.

  When she was better able to speak, she said in a concerned rush, "But you … you haven't…"

  "Don't worry," he said with a tight, breathless laugh, "I will." He reached down between their bodies and tugged at something wrapped around her knees. Her panties, she realized. "Have to take these off," he whispered, trying his best to do so without releasing his hold on her. With a few smooth moves, she slid the wispy lace down her legs and out of their way.

  With a slow animal grace, his muscles shifted until his lithe body covered hers, pinning her beneath. She arched provocatively against him, the heat flaring again within her. "Right now, Brianna," he breathed in an urgent whisper. "Let's go there now."

  She wrapped her arms around him and commandeered his mouth in a thorough kiss. His hardness swelled against her inner thighs. The muscles in his back bunched and flexed beneath her palms as he undulated with tightly controlled grace, dominating their motion, his hardness probing against her softness.

  "Yes, now," she groaned, feverish with renewed wanting. "Love me now, Evan!"

  An odd, sudden stillness arrested his movement—as if some alien force had literally stunned him.

  "Evan?" she whispered against his shoulder, alarmed at the way he had stiffened into absolute immobility. "What's wrong?" Thoughts about strokes and aneurysms and all kinds of horrible conditions raced through her mind. She struggled to see his face, but he had turned his head and his silky dark hair blinded her. When she tried to move, his arms tightened with brutal strength, holding her fast in place. "For heaven's sake, what's wrong?" she gasped, squeezed nearly breathless.

  She heard his pent-up breath rush out as if forced between clenched teeth. Then he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  "Evan?" she tried again in a tiny whisper, frightened and concerned.

  "Don't … say … anything," he ground out between teeth that were obviously still clenched. She felt a light but discernible tremor pass through him. Then another.

  After an anxious moment, she ventured, "Are you okay?"

  "No."

  She pressed her jaw against his temple and waited. For what, she wasn't sure.

  When he finally made a move, it was one she hadn't expected—he levered himself up on his forearms until his body barely touched hers, and he stared down at her with a fine sheen of sweat on his flushed rugged face and a smoldering intensity in his eyes. In a whisper softer than a kiss, he asked, "What did you call me?"

  "Call you?" she said, entirely bewildered. "Why, nothing. All I said was…" She stopped, his name poised on her lips. All she'd called him was Evan.

  It was then that the first inkling of disaster spiraled through her. Not a full-blown realization—just a bizarre supposition, too terrible to entertain.

  His dark blue gaze bore mercilessly into her. His eyebrows rose, and he prompted, "All you said was…?"

  She then noticed his hair. It had dried considerably since he'd first ushered her into his apartment. It waved in thick, unruly locks around his sun-bronzed face. In a trance, she reached up and touched the dark brown hair that glinted liberally with gold. It was a good inch longer than it had been when he'd left town … two short weeks ago.

  She gaped at that hair in mute disbelief. Her stare shifted to his face. A familiar beloved face. But when she examined him closer, she found the telltale scar—a tiny white line almost hidden by the sweep of his dark winged brows. A high-school football injury, she remembered.

  But Evan hadn't been the one to play football. He'd been president of the student council, editor of the yearbook and champion of the chess club—not some arrogant, swaggering quarterback with a scar underneath his left eyebrow.

  His wide, firm mouth tightened, and with one fluid motion he rolled clear of her, onto his side. Propping himself up on one arm, he faced her, wordlessly watching as she lay there grappling with the dawning truth.

  The full force of it hit her in a blinding rush, and in a whisper bleak with horror she gasped, "You're not Evan!"

  His expression didn't change, but his gaze remained steadfast. "'Fraid not."

  * * *

  2

  « ^ »

  If the earth had fallen off its axis, if the sun had ceased to burn, she couldn't have felt any deeper horror. Her reality shattered and she desperately strained to fit the fragments back together, to make sense of the absurd. He had to be Evan. Had to be…

  "Evan is still in France," came the deep, quiet, disembodied voice from somewhere beside her.

  But Evan had answered the door when she'd arrived, hadn't he? She'd kissed him hello, told him that she wanted to make love. "Oh, God," Brianna whispered, her eyes wide and unseeing as she pressed her hand to her mouth.

  Then there were the kisses—the long, hot kisses that she had initiated. "Oh, God." She squeezed her eyes shut to block them out, but the memory reeled forward.

  She'd unbuttoned her dress. He'd kissed her everywhere, in the most intimate of ways. And he'd brought her to the most shattering climax of her entire life. He'd held her quivering in his arms …
and begging for more…

  "Oh, God!" she cried in painful mortification. Rolling over onto a bed pillow, she buried her face in her arms. Jake Rowland! Her nemesis, her enemy.

  "Brianna—" The hoarse masculine voice washed over her with an intimacy that now shocked her. This man wasn't Evan! He had no right to say her name in such a low, caressing tone. No right to lie so close to her that she felt his body heat radiating clear through her skin.

  "Stay away from me," she cried with a sob. "Just stay away from me, Jake." And though he didn't say another word, she felt his gaze, and a hot little shiver went through her, starting at her nape, working its way down her spine and out into her most private regions.

  Most private regions? There weren't any that he hadn't already explored! Just thinking of his "explorations" made her quake all over again, made a dry heat steal over her, while chill bumps sprang up on her arms.

  Another realization hit her: she was lying here in bed with him—naked!

  With a little shriek, she grabbed at the rumpled bedspread and wrapped it around her in a panic. "My clothes," she cried, sitting up straight and thrashing around with one hand while holding on to her cover with the other. "I need my clothes!"

  "Calm down." Jake sat up beside her, completely unconcerned with his own golden, muscled nakedness.

  "I have to get out of here," she wailed and launched herself off the bed. Dragging the bedspread with her, she searched the floor for her panties … her black lace panties, which Jake Rowland had helped pull down her legs. Those legs trembled beneath her now so violently that she nearly lost her balance.

  "Damn it, Brianna, you're not going anywhere until you settle down and we talk this thing through." He sprang to his feet, then circled the bed, stalking her as if she were some wild animal he intended to corner. "You can't get behind the wheel of a car or even walk across a street until you calm down."

  Calm down! Nothing could calm her down. Nothing. Evan was in France, and she was here, naked with his brother! With one wary eye on Jake's approach, she frantically searched by the side of the bed for her underwear … and what about her dress? Where had they dropped it? In the bedroom? In the living room? She couldn't remember … couldn't think straight…

  She then caught sight of black lace. Her panties! In Jake's hand! He was gazing at her with grim concern. Or rather what looked like grim concern. But this was Jake Rowland, and she knew from long experience just how concerned he'd be about her. She made a move for her underwear. He evaded her reach. "Breathe, Brianna, deep and slow."

  "Give them to me!" she cried in seething outrage.

  "Not until you—"

  He didn't get out another word before she lunged at him, grabbing for the black lace, determined to rip it from his hand. His arms shot out around her. She elbowed him in the ribs. He wrestled her onto the bed and she fought wildly, lashing out with every ounce of her strength. But he overcame her with little effort and held her from behind, his arms wrapped around her midsection, her arms pinned to her sides, her back lodged solidly against him and her cheek pressed to the linen sheets of his bed.

  "How could you deceive me like that?" she railed. "How could even you stoop so low?"

  "I knew you'd find a way to blame this on me."

  "You took your brother's place in bed with me!"

  "You came on to me, remember?"

  "You knew I thought you were Evan!"

  "How was I supposed to know that?"

  "Why would I want to go to bed with you?"

  "I thought you might have finally come to your senses."

  Rage rushed through her, hot and blinding. She struggled to free herself from his hold. "Let go of me!"

  "I'll let you go when you calm down."

  But her anger only grew hotter, and her muscles strained with fury. The more she wrestled, the more he tightened his hold. He moved one arm up across her chest and wrapped an iron-strong leg over hers to subdue her kicks. The bedspread had dropped away from her when she'd first lunged at him. Her writhing brought her against him in full skin-to-skin contact, muscle against muscle, flesh against flesh. Before long, a heat of a very different kind radiated between them. Every twist and wriggle intensified it.

  She knew this heat. He'd stoked it earlier—with his kisses, his hands, his mouth. She couldn't help thinking about what he could do with his body. A bolt of desire shot through her and she closed her eyes, nearly overcome by it. She wanted to move her hips, to press her backside against the virile hardness she felt there.

  She forced herself into stillness—absolute, breathless stillness. He, too, moved not a muscle. But the tension enveloped them, thick and dangerously flammable.

  "I'm … I'm calm now," she finally breathed, although she wasn't in the least bit calm. She blazed inside with a shamefully physical longing.

  "Are you sure?" he said in a hot strangled whisper.

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. "Promise you won't bolt if I let you go?"

  "I p-promise."

  He hesitated, his breathing ragged. Then he slowly removed his leg from over hers, one arm from above her breasts, his other from around her waist.

  She couldn't have bolted if she'd wanted to. The struggle had drained her of rage but left her as hot, weak and disoriented as anyone awakening from a fever. That fever still simmered in her blood.

  From her side view she saw Jake stand, toss her panties onto the bed, throw open the closet door and shrug into a maroon silk robe. He tied its sash with brusque, impatient tugs, his face dark and sullen. Without the briefest glance at her, he strode from the room, reappearing in the doorway seconds later to throw the rest of her clothes to her. Then he firmly, wordlessly shut the bedroom door.

  A while later, Brianna emerged fully dressed from the bedroom—the guest suite, she now realized, not the one Evan always occupied. Jake stood beside the gray stone hearth, still clad in the maroon silk robe, which left his muscled calves and a shadowy vee of his broad chest bare. He held a steaming mug in his hand. Another mug sat on the end table beside the sofa, obviously waiting for her. The fragrance of freshly brewed coffee beckoned, but she wanted to be gone from here as quickly as possible.

  He glanced up from the fire and pointed to the sofa. "Sit."

  She raised a brow, considered taking offense, then decided to postpone her protest. He looked ready to tackle her again at the first wrong move. Not that she was intimidated. She simply didn't want to chance any more physical encounters with Jake Rowland. She still felt overly sensitive from the most recent ones.

  With her head held high, she sat in the armchair beside the sofa he had indicated, her legs folding beneath her, her arms crossing in a protective hug. Her cashmere dress clung below her bare shoulders and felt far too revealing, now that she knew the identity of the man watching her. Her hair was a wild tangle, impossible to comb. Her lipstick had been thoroughly kissed away, and she refused to freshen it. She didn't want Jake to think she was primping for him.

  But despite her resolution to remain uncaring of his opinion, a self-conscious warmth rose in her cheeks beneath his silent stare. It wouldn't have hurt to have at least glanced in the mirror, she supposed.

  "So what's going on between Evan and you?" he finally asked, his voice low and nonchalant as he set his coffee on the mantel.

  "I don't see how that's any of your business."

  "Last time I was in town, you two were just old friends. And business associates. At least, that's how he seemed to view it. Since when did things, uh, heat up?"

  "You didn't know that Evan and I have been dating?"

  "He never mentioned it to me, and I've been with him the past couple days in France."

  She pressed her lips together, struggling to conceal the hurt that Evan hadn't told his brother anything about her … if Jake could be believed. After a moment, she chided herself. Of course he couldn't be believed! This was the guy who had ruined her junior prom by bragging to her date that he was the father of her baby. And she'd
never even had a baby! At the time, she'd never even had sex!

  "As you well know, Evan and I have always been close," she said. "Lately we've gotten … closer."

  It looked as though Jake would say more, but then he glanced away from her, toward the fire. Incredible, how much he resembled Evan. The firelight caught the same golden highlights in his dark hair, cast the same intriguing shadows across the rugged planes of his face. But his stance seemed more aggressive, his presence more dominating.

  She reached for the coffee mug, needing something to distract her from the sight of him.

  "You don't really believe I intentionally deceived you tonight, do you?" he asked.

  Brianna paused with the cup halfway to her mouth. She wasn't ready to discuss tonight's fiasco. Her emotions were still too raw to confront him now. "I wouldn't put it past you," she retorted. "You've pretended to be Evan before."

  He frowned—a study in outraged innocence. "When?"

  "In high school, the first time I met you. I called you Evan, and asked if I could ride with you to our ecology club earth march."

  "What'd I say?"

  She swept a lock of hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "You asked me if I'd 'put out.'"

  A reminiscent glow lightened his eyes. "I remember." Though he didn't actually smile, she knew he wasn't far from it. "I never was sure what your answer was … yes or no?"

  Her hands tightened around the mug. "It was a good thing I ran into Evan at the other end of the hall or I would have despised him for embarrassing me like that."

  "Good lord, Brianna, we were fifteen, sixteen years old. That was the last time I ever pretended to be Evan."

  "Until tonight." She set her coffee cup down to keep from spilling it.

  His stare locked with hers, generating an intensity that made her heart beat faster. "I swear to you, I thought you knew who I was."