HIS DOUBLE, HER TROUBLE

by Donna Sterling

  "They're trying to pin this embezzlement on me," Evan fretted. "I didn't have a damn thing to do with any of it."

  "Calm down, Ev. We've got investigators combing the globe to find Cassandra Jones. And don't worry about what's going on here. I've pulled companies through worse problems than these. But I'm going to start making the necessary changes now, and I don't want any interference from you."

  "Okay. It's in your hands until I get back. And, ah, mum's the word, right?"

  Jake shut his eyes. That wouldn't be easy. "Right."

  "Thanks, Jake."

  "One more thing I need to know. What exactly is your relationship with Brianna?"

  Another lengthy silence. Jake wasn't sure he could deal with this one. He wanted to reach through the wire and grab his twin by the throat.

  "We were dating for a while, but I broke it off."

  "That's it? You're not planning to kiss and make up?"

  "Look, I'm already having to open my books to you. I don't see any reason to share details of my personal life."

  "I'm living your personal life, damn it."

  "All you need to know is that Brianna and I have parted ways, except for our professional relationship."

  "You're right there, bro. That's all I needed to know."

  By morning, Brianna decided she was glad that she had seen Jake with another woman, glad that she'd spent the night in torment. She considered it a wake-up call. Because somewhere along the way she'd begun to want him—in a purely physical way, of course. But wanting him in any way was crazy. Last night's agony had been proof of that.

  Today she would ask Maude to return her letter, which she hadn't found the previous night, and then she would calmly, rationally discuss with Jake the ramifications of allowing anyone in town to know he wasn't Evan. If he should say that the redhead had believed him to be Evan, she would calmly, rationally point out how unfair his deception was.

  She would not, under any circumstances, kill him.

  Even before going to her own office, she took the elevator up to Evan's office suite on the top floor. Although it was an hour earlier than the usual starting time, Maude sat at her desk outside Evan's office. To Brianna's surprise, the glassed-in office behind her was also occupied.

  Evan sat at his desk, talking on the phone! It had to be Evan. Jake would never come in this early. He wore an elegant dark suit and tie, immaculate white shirt, gold tiepin and cuff links that winked from French cuffs. He looked entirely at his ease, as if he wore such suits every day—it had to be Evan. How had he managed to come back so soon?

  "Good morning, Ms. Devon," Maude said as Brianna stared in dazed surprise at the man behind the glass wall. "When did he…?" Her question trailed off when he leaned back in the chair and propped his legs up on his desk, lounging as if he were on the deck of a pleasure yacht.

  No, indeed. Evan hadn't returned.

  Her heart tripped into double time. The combination of Evan's elegant attire, Jake's virile nonchalance and the dark good looks shared by the brothers did something to her that restricted her breathing. He was, quite simply, magnificent.

  As if mesmerized, she watched him hang up the phone and open a ledger, which he proceeded to study with apparent absorption. She wondered what was in the ledger. A girlie magazine? A racing form? A travel itinerary for his next volcano sprint? At least, he knew how to look busy.

  "How long has he been here?" she asked Maude. He'd obviously left the redhead's bed early. Unless he hadn't been in the redhead's bed at all. Hope flickered madly in her heart. Disgusted with herself, she quelled it. What difference did it make to her whether he slept with the woman or not? She couldn't allow herself to care.

  "I'm not sure when he arrived," Maude answered, her tone clearly indicating that no one, not even a coconspirator, would get past her to violate Mr. Rowland's privacy, regardless of which Mr. Rowland he happened to be. "Shall I tell him you're here?"

  Brianna suddenly felt unprepared to confront him. "No. If he asks for me, give me a buzz." She turned to leave. "Oh, and I think it might be wise for you to draw the blinds in his office."

  They exchanged a look, and she knew Maude agreed that even though Jake looked exactly like Evan, he didn't behave the same way. Better to keep him safely out of sight from the employees. Questions and rumors about "Evan's" odd behavior was the last thing they needed right now.

  And the last thing Brianna herself needed was to stand there staring at Jake, spying on him, held in the grip of a fascination that bordered on being painful.

  As Maude started for his office to draw the blinds, Brianna remembered the question that had brought her here so early. Striving for nonchalance, she inquired, "Have you sorted through Evan's mail from last week yet?"

  Maude paused outside Jake's office door. "Of course. I put it on Mr. Rowland's desk."

  A nervous lump settled in the pit of her stomach. Through the glass wall she saw that Jake had set up a computer beside the ledger he'd been studying. Maybe he hadn't actually read the mail, she thought with desperate hope. He'd probably been too busy playing video games on his notebook computer to bother with Evan's mail.

  "I … I need my letter back. It was meant for—" She broke off, remembering that other co-workers could walk in and overhear. "The information in it is no longer valid. Would you please get it from his desk?"

  "If he hasn't already opened it." Maude glanced at him through the glass wall. "He's on the phone again. I'll wait until he's off before I ask him for it."

  The lump in Brianna's stomach turned over. Maybe he hadn't opened her letter because she'd marked it confidential. He might have realized how unethical it would be to read a confidential letter.

  She winced at her own naiveté. This was Jake Rowland. Her letter would be the first one he'd open!

  Realizing that she couldn't lurk outside his office while he talked on the phone, she made her getaway.

  She wasn't ready to face him yet, especially not if he'd read her letter.

  Less than ten minutes later, however, she was ready to face him. More than ready. After talking to a clerk near the coffeepot about maternity leave and a commercial underwriter in the elevator about the possibility of his early retirement, Brianna finally arrived at her own office for the first time that morning, only to find that her little paneled sanctuary had been invaded.

  Her desk and her chair were missing! And she'd been stupid enough to believe Jake when he'd promised to behave!

  She ran up the back stairway, too angry to speak to coworkers she might meet in the elevator. Breathless from the five-flight climb, she approached Maude's desk and demanded, "I need to talk to Mr. Rowland. Now."

  Maude looked up from her work in surprise. "Certainly, Ms. Devon. As a matter of fact, I was trying to buzz you—"

  She didn't wait to hear more. Vaguely noting that the blinds had been drawn, she stormed into Jake's office, ready to tear into him for all of the aggravation he'd caused her—her missing desk, her miserable night, her waylaid letter.

  He half sat at the edge of his desk—an odd place for him to be—and eyed her unannounced entrance with some surprise. "Ah, Ms. Devon. Come in."

  "How can you think a stunt like that would be funny?" she blasted. "Hiding my desk is the most juvenile prank you've ever pulled. Didn't your promise to behave mean anything?"

  He laughed—an oddly strained chuckle—and from his sideways glance, a suspicion crept up on her. Could it be that they weren't alone?

  She turned to find a woman and two men sitting to the far left of his desk, all watching her with courteously muted interest. "Excuse me," she murmured, her embarrassment flaring. "I didn't realize—"

  "Ms. Devon, I'd like you to meet the crew who will be working to solve our computer problems," Jake cut in smoothly. "This is Irene Cahn, one of the best systems analysts in the world. Irene, this is Brianna Devon, our human resources director."

  Brianna received yet another jolt as she focused on the woman who had risen to sha
ke her hand. From her short, smooth hairstyle and its vibrant color, Brianna recognized the redhead from Jake's car the previous day. Her deep voice as she greeted Brianna, her brusque handshake, her black suit and heavy flat shoes—all were undeniably masculine. She was also far older than Brianna had supposed.

  Jake then introduced the two men as her associates, and Irene quipped in her gruff voice, "I'm just as surprised as you are to find us here, Ms. Devon. I'd like to know what kind of strings your boss pulled. I've never seen Ryan Alexander step in and take over a project of ours so we could start a new one that hadn't even been on our schedule."

  Jake shrugged in response, offering no explanation.

  "Ryan Alexander?" Brianna repeated. Jake's college buddy—the one who'd bet against him on his volcano run! "You're from Alexander Technologies?"

  Irene nodded and the men broke into friendly small talk.

  Another little light clicked on in Brianna's heart. Jake hadn't frivolously wasted time or raced across that volcano for bragging rights. He'd done it for them, for Rowland Insurance, to tackle their computer woes.

  Irene lit up a slim cigar and explained the tactics they would use to track down the computer manipulations. Jake had apparently installed the team at a nearby hotel where they tied in by modem to the company's network. As Irene spoke, she addressed Jake as "Evan".

  It didn't take a genius to realize the nature of Jake's relationship to her—purely business. Brianna's gladness bubbled up from deep within—a feeling she didn't want to analyze or even think about objectively. She just wanted to revel in the pure simple joy of knowing she'd been wrong about Jake. In more ways than one…

  "I suggest we move this meeting next door," he said, nodding in the direction of Evan's sitting room. He ushered his guests in first, and then Brianna.

  She stopped at the threshold and stared. Set among the plush armchairs, sofas and rosewood tables of the elegantly furnished sitting room were her executive desk and chair.

  "This, by the way, is Ms. Devon's office." Jake avoided her stunned gaze as he addressed the others. "She can answer questions you have about personnel or whatever other information you'll need. Make yourselves comfortable."

  As they settled into chairs and remarked about the view of the gardens from the window, Jake drew Brianna aside. "They know only about an attempted embezzlement. Ryan swears they'll be discreet. Help them as much as you can, then take them to lunch. Come see me afterward."

  "But Jake," she said in a dazed whisper, "this office … it can't be mine. It's too … too…"

  "Change it however you want." He dug in his pocket and handed her a key, presumably the one to unlock the outer door at the far end of the room.

  "I don't mean that I don't like it. It's gorgeous. Too gorgeous. It should belong to a vice-president, at least."

  An amused glint lit his deep blue eyes like sunshine on an ocean. "Okay. We'll change your title to vice-president of human resources."

  "Don't you dare! Everyone would think I was sleeping with the boss."

  He tilted his head, studied her intently. "Are you?"

  "No! I mean … that's none of your business."

  After a long, searching gaze, he uttered with finality, "The office is yours." He added in a deep, hoarse whisper, "I'll need you close at hand."

  With a dizzying rush, she turned away, fighting an attraction almost too strong to hide. She didn't know this man. He wasn't the irresponsible boy she remembered or the hedonistic troublemaker she'd believed he'd become.

  He was an enigmatic stranger who stirred her very blood with his presence. How would she ever keep her mind on business with an office that adjoined his? And why was she suddenly so very glad to be "close at hand"?

  Some time after he'd expected Brianna back from lunch, Jake waited on the phone for his call to be put through to his investment firm, absently shuffling through Evan's back mail. One letter caught his eye. There was no return address on the envelope except the initials B.D. It bore no stamp, so he knew it had come through the interoffice mail. And it was marked confidential. For Evan, of course.

  With only a twinge of conscience, Jake drew the letter from its envelope. He would, after all, have to convey any important news the next time Evan called.

  As Jake read, he slowly returned the telephone receiver to its cradle.

  Dear Evan,

  I understand why you think I regret our romantic involvement, but it isn't true. The problems we're having with physical intimacy are entirely my fault and have nothing to do with my feelings for you. I believe your patience and understanding are helping me to overcome my silly inhibitions. When you return, I hope to prove that to you. Yours always,

  B.

  The intercom buzzed. Jake ignored it as a maelstrom whirled within him. She still wanted Evan. He wasn't surprised; he'd carried around that knowledge heavy in his gut for a good long while now—in fact, since he'd met her. But reading it in her words, in her writing, jarred him as if he'd just now discovered it.

  Forcing himself past the fact that she wanted his brother, he went on to analyze the letter further. What did she mean by "problems with physical intimacy"? For a bittersweet moment, a vengeful gladness touched him. If they had to be physically intimate—an idea that twisted his insides with something like pain—he was glad they were having problems. As much as he loved his brother, he simply could not want Brianna to find happiness in anyone's arms but his. He wanted her to be "physically intimate" in his arms, in his bed. There and only there.

  Like a voice mocking him, he remembered her taunt after they'd almost made love. "I wasn't satisfied!" she'd yelled at him. "I was faking it!"

  He hadn't believed her. He'd thought she was merely reacting to his taunting of her. Could he have been wrong? As incredible as it seemed, the letter forced him to consider the possibility that all of that glorious passion had been one-sided. No! He'd felt the passion humming through her, heard it in her moans, tasted it like honey on her skin.

  Had she been faking it? Every fiber in his being cried out that she hadn't. And yet, this letter clearly stated that she'd been having problems with physical intimacy.

  With Evan, Jake silently specified.

  His eyes fell on another passage from the letter, about overcoming her "silly inhibitions."

  Not with Evan, he swore. On his life, he couldn't allow his brother to be the one to bring her to fulfillment … to show her the keen pleasure they could be sharing…

  A brief knock sounded at his door, and Brianna herself peeked in. With his insides wrapped too tightly around themselves for him to speak, he gestured for her to enter.

  "I'm back from lunch. Everything went well, I think." Her gold-green eyes regarded him with some new shyness that drew his attention like a bee to a blossom's nectar. "Just thought I'd tell you, though, that Evan would never sit on the edge of his desk like you were doing when I first walked in. He's not that—" She stopped midsentence.

  Her gaze had lit on the envelope in front of him, then moved up to the letter he held. Her lips parted. Her face turned white.

  She looked as if she'd gone into shock.

  * * *

  6

  « ^ »

  "You … you opened my letter," she breathed.

  "Maude opened it. I didn't know it was yours," he lied. "There was no name or return address on the envelope."

  "It was marked confidential and addressed to Evan."

  "I have to open all his mail. What if the embezzler tries to contact him? Say, to cut some kind of a deal, or maybe even to try blackmail?" He saw the suggestion hit its mark. She hadn't considered that possibility. "If she would, we might be able to trace her."

  "But her initials aren't B.D., which I wrote in the upper left corner of the envelope."

  "You don't think she'd use her own initials, do you? She'd want to throw his guards off the track and get a letter straight through to him."

  "It was interoffice mail!"

  "She could have sli
pped in unnoticed to mail it." He ignored the scornful roll of her eyes. "Every piece of Evan's mail must be opened, and since I'm playing that role, I do the honors."

  A charged silence settled between them.

  "Have you … already read the letter?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  Her lips compressed. She inhaled deeply through nostrils that flared, raised her chin, and held out her hand. "Give it to me, please."

  He handed the letter to her. With her face blazing, she crumpled up the page and stuffed it into the pocket of her tweed suit jacket.

  "Brianna," he said gently, rising from his chair and starting toward her, "if you want to talk about what I read—"

  "I don't." She turned away, running an unsteady hand over her braided twist, as if wayward tendrils had escaped. Visibly she struggled to pull herself together. "You stepped over the line in your impersonation this time," she said in a barely audible voice.

  He'd stopped a short distance away from her, watching her profile. "Yeah, well that's where I'm having my problem … knowing when to be Evan and when to be Jake. Take, for instance, quitting time." He tried to keep the resentment out of his voice as he used her phrase from the other day. "Am I supposed to go back to being me? Stop in and visit old friends, buy rounds at Joe's Pub?"

  "No, you can't. The whole town would know by morning. The impersonation would be a joke."

  He moved closer, his gaze playing across her face. "If I have to be Evan on my off time, who am I supposed to call when I get lonesome? When I want … company?"

  She stared at him. After silent reflection, she slowly replied, "I see what you mean. As long as people believe you're Evan, you can't engage in relationships—especially with women. It wouldn't be fair to Evan, or to the woman."

  "Or to you, if the community considers you and Evan a couple. Does it?"

  "Our close friends do and we've been seen together around town, but we've been very discreet. We haven't flaunted our romance. In fact, most of the employees at Rowland Insurance think we're just good friends."