HIS DOUBLE, HER TROUBLE

by Donna Sterling

  Firmly Jake reminded himself of his resolve to leave Brianna alone. He no longer needed to prove himself in anyone's eyes … and he certainly didn't need her to satisfy his sexual needs. There was a world full of women out there, only too happy to cater to him.

  So why did some fuse go off deep inside his chest every time he saw her, blowing his cool sky-high, making him say and do things to provoke her?

  The answer, he supposed, was obvious. She was the woman he couldn't have. The one who got away. The challenge of the chase, the lure of the forbidden, the grass looking so lush and green on the other side of the hill.

  He'd never been able to resist a challenge.

  Tipping back the Jack Daniels bottle, he took a throat-burning swig. In the late night silence, broken only by the hiss of heat escaping the red hot embers, her accusation whispered through him like a demon. How could you deceive me like that? You took your brother's place in bed with me!

  Guilt, he realized then, was a relative thing.

  He honestly hadn't known she thought he was Evan, especially when she'd first waltzed in the door. He'd been thunderstruck that she'd come to welcome him home. But when a gift of that magnitude falls into a man's lap… When manna from heaven rains down on a starving wanderer… How could a question not form within the human heart?

  It had seemed too good to be true. When she'd declared her age-old love, he'd suspected that something might not be quite right. But the moment that doubt had entered his head, he'd zapped it right back out. He'd indulged instead in the gratifying possibility that she had been secretly wanting him all those years—and in the sheer sexual pleasure of finally having her.

  He'd always imagined she'd taste like heaven.

  Now, he knew.

  Nothing could have stunned him more—not even a bullet to the chest—than when she'd called him Evan. Which, when all was said and done, proved his innocence. Didn't it?

  With a damning curse, he hurled the liquor bottle into the fireplace. It shattered against the gray stones of the hearth, the fire hissing, then leaping erratically.

  Who was he trying to kid? He was guilty as hell. He'd wronged her in the lowest, most despicable way known to man, then tried to pin his innocence on a technicality. No, he hadn't been one-hundred-percent sure that she'd mistaken him for Evan. But then, neither had he risked asking.

  With elbows resting on outspread knees, he plowed his fingers through his hair. He had to make it up to her. He had to bury the hatchet, smoke the peace pipe.

  He would not, under any circumstances, behave with anything less than chivalry toward her. He would not wonder just how deep her emotions toward his brother ran or how intimate their relationship had grown. He certainly wouldn't try to get her back in his own bed and finish what they'd started … make her cry out his name instead of Evan's…

  Blowing out a steady breath, Jake rose from the sofa and plodded toward the den. He had to get her off his mind. Switching on the computer, he keyed in the password Evan had given him and scrolled through information about the company his brother ran.

  As columns of figures flashed by him on the screen, Jake found himself taking comfort in the fact that Brianna hadn't known the circumstances that kept Evan in Paris. Obviously they hadn't been close enough for him to divulge the problem to her. And it was a serious problem—serious enough that Jake had spent the past two days dealing with French law enforcement, international attorneys and Interpol on his brother's behalf.

  Ludicrous though it was, Evan had become implicated in an embezzlement—computer fraud against one of their largest overseas customers. He was being "asked" not to leave France until the investigation cleared him of suspicion.

  Evan would be cleared, Jake felt sure. He'd never knowingly involve himself in theft or anything even vaguely shady. But the embezzlement, perpetrated from within the Rowland Insurance Company, created internal problems.

  Even more surprising than the crime itself: his grandfather had asked Jake to help them out with their corporate difficulties.

  That had been a shock. He'd thought he would be the last one his grandfather, the chairman of the board, would turn to for help. Nearly a decade ago, the old man had forbidden him to set foot in the family home because Jake had refused to work at the Rowland businesses and live under his thumb.

  He'd live under nobody's thumb. If there was one thing Jake needed, it was freedom to go and do as he pleased. To keep two steps ahead of the rich man's curse—the boredom that sucked the color out of life when things got too easy.

  Looking back, he was glad that he'd opted to strike out on his own. It had been tough at first, but he'd made a go of it, working abroad as a troubleshooter for major corporations—a kind of corporate doctor, diagnosing the problems of ailing companies and prescribing to their CEO's the cure. He hadn't lost a patient yet.

  His grandfather obviously knew this, although Jake hadn't spoken to the old man since his banishment and hadn't told anyone else from home about his work. The very nature of it required discretion. Corporations paid big bucks to hide their problems from the world. Even his twin brother knew little about his consulting business. His wily old grandfather must have kept tabs on him all that time.

  What did Cy Rowland have up his sleeve?

  Jake supposed he'd learn the old man's reasons for calling on him soon enough. Probably Sunday. He'd been invited to dinner at his grandfather's house, the house Jake had once considered home.

  He'd turned down that dinner invitation. They'd meet instead at a restaurant. Neutral ground.

  As he scanned the personnel files on the computer screen, a name jumped out at him: Brianna Devon. He'd known that she held some position in the firm, but he hadn't known exactly which position. A slow smile spread across his face as he read her title.

  So, she thought she could run away from him again, did she? Thought she could keep him at her usual distance? Ms. Brianna Devon had a surprise coming her way. As director of human resources, she'd be his right-hand man.

  With his good cheer amazingly restored, he stretched his muscles, whistled a tune and headed for bed. Yes, bed. Not the couch. Maybe he wouldn't mind the memories of her there quite as much as he'd thought.

  As he delved beneath the covers, the subtle scent of her surrounded him, bringing back every kiss, every groan. He allowed himself to savor the erotic heat.

  And when he finally slept, he dreamt of wandering through the desert, hunger tearing at his stomach, when suddenly manna floated down from the heavens. He reached for it, his mouth watering with the need for food. But as he scooped it up, the manna turned to snow.

  From the heavens came a scalding feminine whisper, all too familiar. "I was faking it!"

  * * *

  3

  « ^ »

  After a restless weekend during which Brianna tried to forget her humiliation of Friday night, Monday dawned bright and mild for mid-October in Ohio. Briskly she strode down the red brick sidewalks of Main Street

  , past awning-shaded shops of the historic village, struggling to restore her peace of mind before reaching the office.

  Her breakup with Evan wasn't the worst that could happen, she told herself, nor was it necessarily permanent. He'd concluded that her reluctance to make love meant that she regretted dating him. She'd written an answer to his letter the previous night to explain how wrong he was. Surely they'd mend the rift when he came home.

  Even her humiliating experience with Jake wouldn't affect her too much. They hadn't actually made love. But a deep, tingling warmth washed through her as she remembered how very close they'd come.

  Resolutely she pushed the memory aside, assuring herself that her career was the important thing. As long as her career was going well—which it was—she'd be fine. Her income, her independence, her place in this warm little community she'd come to call home—all were secured by her career. Nothing could matter more.

  She rounded a corner and approached the Rowland Insurance Company. Set a street
behind the shops and diners of Main Street

  , the brick building had been designed to blend in with the historic ambience.

  The charming old village, built around the Ohio & Erie canal business, had fallen on hard times when the canals closed. Surrounded only by Amish farmland, it had stood virtually vacant until the Rowland Insurance Company opened. As the business grew, so did Pleasantville.

  With pride in the company and in the town, Brianna entered through the double glass doors. Inhaling the rich scent of leather furniture, rosewood desks and coffee, she made her way down the wide central corridor. At the last alcove on the left, she unlocked her office. In this small paneled sanctuary, she would build and control her future.

  Cheered by the thought, she switched on the fluorescent light and hung up her coat, glad that Evan wouldn't be back for a few days. She wasn't ready for a confrontation.

  Taking from her purse the letter she'd written to him, she dropped the envelope marked confidential into her interoffice mailbox. Evan's secretary would forward it to him unopened, regardless of where he happened to be.

  She turned her attention to scheduling job interviews, scanning résumés and coordinating employee benefits. Around ten, she received a call from Maude Tupple, Evan's secretary, the least approachable employee in the firm.

  "Good morning, Ms. Devon. I've just received a call from Cy Rowland's secretary."

  At the mention of the chairman of the board—Evan's grandfather, son of the corporation's founder—Brianna sat straighter in her chair. "Yes?"

  "You're expected at his office on Mulberry Street

  for a meeting around noon. He'll supply the lunch."

  "I'm expected at his office?" repeated Brianna blankly. She'd never been singled out by anyone above Evan before. "Do you know who else is invited?"

  "Just you. And, uh, me."

  That surprised her even more. She'd been expecting to hear names of executives. What could the meeting be about? It had to be about Evan. Why else would the chairman of the board want to meet with his secretary?

  Anxiety curled through Brianna. Something big was up. Something regarding Evan. The news might not be good.

  From a handsome stone building on the town square, Cyrus Rowland ruled not only the Rowland Insurance Company but its highly diversified parent conglomerate. The conference room to which Brianna was ushered did not disappoint her; the gleaming conference table, leather chairs, a high ornate ceiling, original artwork on textured walls, all befitting the chairman of the board.

  Cy Rowland radiated the charisma of those comfortable with power: his dark suit and tie, quietly expensive; his gold cufflinks, tie pin and ring, inset with dark rubies; his snow-white hair, glinting with a natural splendor. But it was his eyes that held her—beneath the snowy crests of his eyebrows, they were the same deep blue as his two grandsons.

  "Ms. Devon, Ms. Tupple, I'd like you to meet our board members." From the far end of the table, he gestured toward the three men and two women, all in their sixties or seventies. The presence of the board members surprised Brianna. She hadn't been expecting a board meeting. In his deep rumbling voice, Cy made introductions. Brianna felt a tug of pride that she had been included in this exclusive group, and intense curiosity, as well.

  "I've asked you two ladies to join us because of your long, excellent records with Rowland Insurance," said Cy, "and because my grandson Evan told me that you could be trusted to remain loyal and, er, discreet."

  Brianna nodded a mute thanks.

  He went on to talk about the history of the corporation, how his father and he had built it into an international conglomerate.

  As he rambled on with passion for the subject, the door behind him opened and a broad-shouldered figure entered. For a surprised moment, Brianna thought it was Evan.

  Evan, however, wouldn't attend a meeting or any business function in anything less than an Armani suit and tie. Evan wouldn't saunter in with his hands in his pockets and his hair too long and windblown. Evan wouldn't have been late.

  This newcomer, dressed in casual trousers and a black crewneck sweater, the sleeves of which were pushed up his muscled forearms, lacked any sign of repentance for his tardy arrival as he settled into a chair at the opposite end of the long table from his grandfather—the chair nearest Brianna.

  Her heart pounded in her ears as she stared at him. What was Jake doing here? He'd never before set foot in his family's corporate offices, as far as she knew. His name had never been linked to the business.

  With growing unease, she struggled not to look at him. He hadn't glanced at her. His attention seemed properly centered on the speaker, although his chair was pushed out too far from the table, his arms negligently crossed, his powerful shoulders resting too low in the chair. He looked as if he were at home watching television.

  "And that, ladies," said Cy, reclaiming her attention, "brings me to the point of this meeting. Rowland Insurance is the chief industry in this town. The local economy depends on our continued success. That success," he said, focusing on Brianna, "is going to depend largely on you."

  She gazed back at the old man in puzzlement.

  "We recently suffered a setback," he said. "Funds were embezzled from us and from our clients' accounts. Our chief financial officer manipulated the books and the computer system, then took off with the cash."

  "Cassandra Jones?" she asked, stunned by the news.

  "If that was her real name." The old man's voice vibrated with agitation. "She got away with millions."

  A sick feeling lodged in Brianna's stomach. She never had trusted Cassandra, a willowy blonde with an Ivy League degree, who'd been hired by the former human resources director. She'd left the company on very short notice.

  Brianna remembered Evan with sudden concern. How betrayed he must be feeling! "What's happened to Evan?"

  "He's been detained in France," Cy muttered. "The theft was discovered by one of our French customers, a corporate client. Evan was called in to explain. He won't be free to leave until he's been cleared of suspicion."

  "Suspicion!" Her worried gaze flew to Jake. Why hadn't he told her Friday night? He returned her regard with cool detachment, as if unaware of the importance this news held for her. "Surely they don't suspect Evan of embezzlement!"

  Jake didn't comment, but Cy mumbled, "His password was used to gain access to the corporate accounts. He'll be cleared of all suspicion, I'm sure, by the time the French have finished the investigation." His voice grew more irate. "Meanwhile, we have to clear up problems here."

  The old man's face had grown red, and he pulled a linen handkerchief from his pocket to blot his neck. "Funds were shifted via computer—not only from our bank accounts but from customers', using our automatic draft system. We've paid back the deficiencies already found and blamed it on computer errors, but there may be more."

  Brianna thought of the recent conflicts between departments over "errors" in the computer system.

  "It'll take more to fix the problem than just pumping money back into the accounts," Cy said. "It's a matter of how to apply the money and where. We haven't even begun to figure out the details of the theft. That will take some time and analysis." In a morose grumble, he added, "Besides using Evan's computer password, the embezzler forged his signature on documents. Left him holding the bag."

  Fear welled up in Brianna. Would Evan be held responsible for the theft?

  A steely look entered Cy's eyes. "If word gets out that our problems are anything other than computer errors, Evan could become the target of a criminal investigation here, as well. A panic would start among the customers, the employees and the stockholders. We could be sued. The state could pull our insurance license. An insurance company sells trust, above anything else. Our customers trust that we're dealing honestly with them, and that when the rough times hit we'll be there. A whisper of doubt about our integrity, our capability or our stability, and Rowland Insurance becomes a threat to the entire conglomerate."

&n
bsp; As the scope of the problem sank in, Brianna clenched her fists in her lap. She couldn't stand the thought of Evan being investigated for embezzlement. And if a scandal weakened Rowland Insurance, her very world could suffer a devastating blow.

  In the chair to her left, Maude sat as white-faced as Brianna felt. Maude's career seemed to be her life. She'd no doubt do everything in her power to help.

  "What can we do, sir?" Brianna asked.

  The white-haired chairman of the board leaned back in his seat. "You can help keep things running smoothly while the problems are being resolved. If our contacts at Interpol have difficulty finding the embezzler and proof of Evan's innocence, he may be detained for quite some time."

  Her heart fell at that prospect.

  "Meanwhile," said Cy, "I forbid any communication between Evan and anyone in the corporation. His phone lines may be tapped. His mail may be intercepted. Any communication could be distorted into 'incriminating' evidence. At the very least, word of this fiasco could leak out to the press. I've paid dearly to try to prevent that."

  Brianna thought about the letters Jake had given her Friday night from Evan. He hadn't been able to mail them!

  Cy continued, "We'll need a chief executive officer while Evan is gone. The trouble is, a change in CEO's will signal a problem. Make people take a closer look—stockholders, employees, customers, state officials. The last thing we need right now is scrutiny."

  Brianna chewed on her lower lip. How could someone new step in as CEO without anyone knowing about it?

  "Tell me, ladies," said Cy in a suddenly amiable voice, "have you met my other grandson, Jake?"

  As she reeled from the sudden change in subject, Maude said, "Well, yes, but it's been a long time." The secretary cast a shy glance at Jake. "In fact, at first I thought…" her thin cheeks brightened with splotches "…I thought he was Mr. Rowland. Uh, Evan Rowland, that is."