by Gina Wilkins
“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?” Stephanie took firm hold of Tara’s shoulders and turned her toward the full-length mirror. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Tara said, her voice faint, “that there’s a stranger hiding in your mirror.”
The woman reflected couldn’t possibly be Tara. This woman had dark copper hair that curled flirtatiously around her face. As for the face itself—well, suffice it to say that Stephanie was an artist with a makeup brush, Tara thought in wonder. Her usually unspectacular blue eyes had been shaped and shadowed so that they looked huge, with a seductive tilt to the outside corners. Blusher sculpted her cheekbones, making them look more prominent. Her mouth had been outlined with bold, smudge-proof lipstick into a deep crimson pout.
The amount of skin revealed by the low-cut, sleeveless black dress would have made Tara’s mother gasp in shock and her father snatch a blanket to wrap around her. Tara hadn’t even realized she had cleavage until Stephanie had poured her into this dress.
“You,” Stephanie said proudly, “are gorgeous.”
“You’re right,” Tara replied blankly. “I am.” And how on earth had that happened to ordinary Tara McBride?
Stephanie laughed. “Wait until Blake sees you. He already thinks you’re beautiful. But seeing you like this is going to knock the socks right off him.”
Tara’s cheeks flamed beneath the paint. “Stephanie, Blake and I aren’t... I mean, we hardly know each other. We’ve only been thrown together temporarily by circumstances.”
Stephanie gave a delicate snort. “I’ve seen the way Blake looks at you, Tara. There’s more between you than ‘circumstances.’”
Tara’s cheeks darkened even more as she thought of the kisses she and Blake had shared that very morning—in Stephanie’s bed.
Stephanie laughed again. “I knew it,” she said in apparent delight. “There is something going on! Oh, I love seeing Blake all shaken up for a change. It’s good for him.”
Totally bewildered, Tara turned away from the mirror. “Not that there’s anything between Blake and me, but...it really wouldn’t bother you if there was? You and he aren’t...?”
Stephanie sighed heavily. “Honestly, sometimes I just want to strangle him. Tara, Blake is my brother.”
Tara felt her jaw drop. “Your...?”
“Brother,” Stephanie repeated clearly. “He’s five years older than I am. He raised me after our parents died when I was ten and he was barely fifteen.”
Tara shook her head. “I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me.”
“We don’t tell many people. Ever since I accidentally got involved in one of Blake’s cases a long time ago, and almost got myself kidnapped by a guy who thought he could use me to keep Blake from going public with some damaging information, Blake has this crazy idea that it’s safer for me if no one knows he has a sister. He should have told you the truth. I don’t know why he hasn’t, but I refuse to lie to you. I like you.”
The touch of defiance in Stephanie’s voice might have been amusing, had Tara not still been completely staggered by her admission. “Your brother,” she repeated, mentally reassessing everything that had happened since she and Blake had arrived in Savannah.
Blake had to know what she’d been thinking, Tara decided with a sudden flare of anger. He must have realized that she would misinterpret his having a key to Stephanie’s apartment. And he’d let her go on thinking that way, even after he’d kissed her until she had been almost ready to throw all common sense to the wind. He’d left her feeling guilty and confused, and had made it very awkward for her when Stephanie had arrived, acting so friendly and welcoming.
Tara thought she just might strangle him herself.
Tara searched the other woman’s face for signs of a family resemblance. They were there, just faintly, now that she knew what to look for.
Why on earth hadn’t Blake told her the truth?
Stephanie touched Tara’s hand. “I know it’s none of my business, whatever is going on between the two of you. But...well, Blake has been alone for a long time. He hasn’t seemed to truly belong anywhere, and that has bothered me. I’ve hoped he would find someone nice like you. I love him very much, and I want him to be happy.”
“I know you do,” Tara replied, her stomach suddenly knotting. “But please don’t start matchmaking. This really isn’t a good time.”
Nor did she have any reason to believe that she was the one who could make Blake happy, she could have added. Tara and Blake were so different. Besides, who knew what would happen when this all ended?
“First you have to make sure you’re both safe. I understand. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have hope for afterward,” Stephanie added impishly. Even though she and Stephanie were the same age, Tara thought the other woman seemed much younger at that moment.
“I have to go now,” Stephanie said before Tara could argue further. “So you and my brother will be all alone tonight. All night.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Stephanie!”
Stephanie grinned. “Just thought I would point that out. And you really do look beautiful, by the way. You’ll make Blake’s head spin...and it will be good for him. If I were you, I’d make him sweat a little as punishment for lying to you.”
“He didn’t actually lie,” Tara murmured.
“He didn’t tell the truth, either.”
“No.” And he’d led her to believe he would keep her informed all the way, Tara remembered irritably. Yet he’d told her almost nothing since they’d arrived in Savannah.
She was getting angrier all the time. It would serve him right if she did make him sweat. Unfortunately, Tara had never developed the skills required to turn a man to jelly.
The woman in the mirror, however...
She eyed her reflection thoughtfully as Stephanie slipped quietly out of the room.
9
STEPHANIE MUST not have lingered long after leaving the bedroom she’d offered Tara. It was only a few minutes later when Tara heard someone step through the doorway behind her. She turned slowly from her fascinated contemplation of the striking woman in the full-length mirror—a woman who looked so very different from serious, straitlaced Tara McBride.
Blake had been smiling as he entered the room. When Tara turned to face him, he stumbled to a halt, his smile slowly fading.
In fascination, Tara studied the stunned expression on his face—an expression she’d sometimes witnessed when men first noticed her beautiful cousin, Savannah. Tara didn’t remember any man ever looking at her quite this way.
The surge of recklessness that poured through her was new to her—and strangely exhilarating.
Blake’s gaze traveled slowly from her sexily tousled red curls to her pouty crimson mouth, and then moved downward to take in the shocking dip of her neckline. She wore no shoes, only very sheer black stockings. Holding her head high, she resisted an urge to curl her toes into the carpet like an embarrassed kid.
Blake seemed to grope for words. “Wow,” was all he finally said.
Power. She felt her power in the dazed look in his eyes, in the husky edge to his voice.
She’d been able to intimidate men in the past with her intelligence, her determination, her ambition and her position. But she’d never felt the sheer, feminine power of knowing a man had just looked at her and had his knees go weak in response. Never.
And it felt wonderful. Especially with this particular man, who’d already made Tara’s knees melt on numerous occasions with his sexy smiles and cocky walk.
“Well? What do you think?” She deliberately lowered her voice an octave as she spoke, holding out her arms and making a slow pirouette. “Will anyone recognize me?”
“I hardly recognize you myself,” Blake replied, his voice still sounding a bit odd.
She reached up to run a hand through her newly shortened and curled hair, fully aware that the movement pulled her dress tight against her breasts. “Is that good or bad?”
She watche
d as Blake’s eyes glazed. “I—er—haven’t decided.”
He took a few steps closer. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, Tara. But you look downright deadly now.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure that sounds like a compliment.”
His gaze focused on her pouting mouth. “I’m not sure I meant it as one.”
She reached up to run a fingertip across his lower lip. “Careful, Blake,” she warned softly. “The way you’re looking at me might just give me ideas.”
He slid his hands around her waist. “You’ve already given me a few,” he muttered, pulling her closer.
Feeling daring and wicked and still more than a little annoyed with him, she slid her hands up his chest to his shoulders, her face tilted invitingly upward. “Anything you want to share?”
“Oh, yeah.” He ducked his head, and brushed his lips across hers. Once, and then again. She didn’t respond, but didn’t draw back, either.
“Tara.” His voice came out a groan. “You’re driving me crazy. I’m trying to keep a clear head, but I can’t seem to think straight when you’re around. That hasn’t happened to me before, especially not in the middle of a case.”
His words—and the uncharacteristically humble tone in which he spoke them—jolted her. She steeled herself against the smoldering look in his eyes, reminding herself that he’d lied to her, at least by omission, about Stephanie. He’d let her worry and stew about the other woman, feeling guilty for kissing him in Stephanie’s bed, when for all Tara had known, Blake had occupied that bed many times before.
He deserved to suffer, at least a little, for what he’d put her through, she decided.
She rose on stockinged tiptoes to brush a kiss across his mouth. She allowed the very tip of her tongue to trace his lower lip, and, oh, he tasted good. With satisfaction, she felt a tremor of response ripple through him. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her closer, letting her know that she’d aroused him.
“Blake.” Her lips moved lightly against his. “We really shouldn’t do this.”
He buried one hand in the soft curls at the back of her head, tilting her face into position for a long, deep kiss. She clung to him, wondering which of them was really being seduced.
Very slowly, he broke the kiss, his lips clinging to hers for just a moment before he spoke. “You’re probably right.”
But then he kissed her again. And she could almost feel the balance of power shifting in his favor.
His left hand still buried in her hair, Blake slid his right to the small of her back, and then lower, to cup her bottom and pull her more snugly against him. She ached fiercely at every point where their bodies met. If she was going to stop this, she thought, now was the time.
But it wasn’t going to be easy.
She braced her hands against his shoulders and pushed, putting a full two inches between them. “We have to stop,” she said, though what she really wanted to do was to drag him to the bed and throw all caution to the wind.
She wanted him, as she had never wanted anyone before. But there was still just enough sense of self-preservation inside her to remind her how badly he could hurt her. He had already hurt her by deceiving her about Stephanie after promising not to keep anything from her. No matter what his excuse might be, she felt betrayed by that omission.
Blake tried to pull her back into his arms. “Tara...”
“No, Blake. We can’t.”
“I’ll admit our timing isn’t the greatest, but...”
“No,” she said firmly. “I can’t do this to Stephanie. She’s been too nice to me.”
He was visibly confused. “Stephanie?”
Gaining confidence, Tara moved another inch backward, so that she wouldn’t be rattled by his nearness. “After all she’s done for me, I refuse to hurt her by getting involved with you behind her back. It’s obvious that she loves you.”
Blake winced. “Uh, Tara...”
She smoothed damp palms down her sides, knowing that the movement pressed the dress more tightly against her. “Do you deny that she loves you?” she challenged him, holding his gaze with her own.
She had him there. “No,” he admitted, “but...”
She nodded. “I thought so. You should be ashamed, Blake, making passes at me while staying under the roof of a woman you’ve been stringing along.”
“Tara, you don’t understand. It isn’t like that.”
Getting fully into her role, she tossed her head. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that you don’t love her.”
“No. I mean, of course I do, but...”
She was rather enjoying watching Blake squirm. It was the first time since she’d known him that she’d seen him truly rattled. Which was only fair, considering how many times he’d reduced her to near incoherence.
“So you do love her.” She sighed soulfully, hoping she wasn’t overplaying.
“Yes. Damn it, Tara, she’s my sister.”
She gasped and placed a hand over her heart, strategically placed to make the most of her newly discovered cleavage. “Your sister?”
“Yeah.” He had the grace to look penitent. “I suppose I should have told you sooner.”
“I would say so,” she answered indignantly. “How could you let me go on believing that Stephanie’s heart was going to be broken? You cad. You deceiver. You...you...”
“You already knew, didn’t you?”
The wry resignation in Blake’s voice made Tara choke on a sudden urge to laugh, an urge that faded quickly as genuine anger bubbled up again.
“Stephanie told me the truth,” she said coolly. “Unlike you, she didn’t think I deserved to be kept in the dark. Why didn’t you tell me, Blake?”
BLAKE SAW the angry accusation in Tara’s eyes, and he bit back a sigh. He had known Tara would find out the truth about Stephanie eventually, and he’d also known she would be annoyed that he hadn’t told her from the beginning.
Actually, he thought, warily studying her expression, “annoyed” didn’t quite describe her reaction. Beneath her cool sarcasm, she was furious.
He didn’t quite know how to explain his reasons for misleading her. He could tell her it was force of habit, that he’d been protecting Stephanie from the less pleasant aspects of his chosen career for a long time. But that didn’t apply here; Tara posed no threat to Blake’s little sister.
He could tell her he’d hidden behind Stephanie because he’d been so determined not to take advantage of Tara’s current dependence on him, and hadn’t quite trusted his own willpower where Tara was concerned. But that wasn’t the whole story, either.
What he didn’t know how to explain to her was his reluctance to allow her to get too close. Already she was becoming too important to him. It was getting harder all the time to keep this in perspective, to remind himself that there was no future for them. How could there be, considering the way he’d been.living for the past ten years? Never in one place more than a few days at a time, always available at a moment’s notice to drop everything and embark on a new adventure, no strings, no ties, no permanent home.
Hell, he rarely even used his full name. As far as he knew, Tara didn’t even know it.
Stephanie had seemed like a convenient cover, at least until he got himself under control where Tara was concerned. Maybe he’d had a foolish idea that the less Tara knew about him, the easier it would be for him to keep his emotional distance from her. It hadn’t been working.
Tara McBride had gotten under his skin the first time he’d met her, nearly two years ago. Though he’d talked with her only a dozen times at most since that first meeting, he’d never been able to put her completely out of his mind. He was beginning to suspect now that he never would.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply, deciding that no explanation could justify his deceiving her. “I should have told you.”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “You should have.”
She half turned away from him, crossing her arms over her in
triguingly revealed chest. The suddenly defensive gesture told him more than she’d probably intended. He’d hurt her, he realized hollowly. It was the one thing he’d been determined from the beginning not to do.
Even as he struggled with the guilt that realization caused him, a part of him wondered if she would really be so hurt if she hadn’t begun to care for him, at least a little.
But, no. That possibility shouldn’t please him, he reminded himself. He still had little to offer her, nothing at all compared to the powerful career she’d made for herself long before he’d met her. Sure, she’d hit a wall at the moment, but he had no doubt that she would find a way around it, and with no help from him. Tara was smart, capable, intimidating when she wanted to be. He’d seen her in her office, noted the respect she’d earned from her associates. One setback, no matter how devastating it seemed at the moment, wouldn’t hold her down for long.
Maybe she thought she needed Blake now, but that wouldn’t last long.
And then who would be hurt?
“What else haven’t you told me about our situation?” she asked over her shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Nothing important,” he assured her. “I talked to Jeremy Kane this morning, after I saw the notice that he was going to do the charity thing at Willfort’s estate. Jeremy has agreed to help us get in.”
“I know why you want in. You want to check Willfort’s art collections for the allegedly stolen paintings. I assume you have descriptions of them?”
“Better than that. I have photographs. I had my friend in the insurance company fax them to me at a copy shop this morning.”
She nodded, apparently unimpressed. “So that explains why you want to go in, though I can’t imagine how you’re going to get past Willfort’s security and wander through his home at will.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said with a cool, matter-offact shrug. “My question is, why do you need me? Why should I pretend to be one of Jeremy Kane’s assistants?”
“Because you’re the only one who saw the face of the man who grabbed you in that office. I only saw him from behind. I might recognize him again, but I couldn’t be sure without you. If he’s at Willfort’s charity benefit Friday night, I want to know it. I need you to point him out to me.”
