Desperately Seeking Twin...

by Marie Ferrarella

  Why was he so insistent on prying into their lives? She wanted Quartermain to find her sister for her, not her so—called aunts and uncles. She knew where to find all of them.

  Patience was second nature to him, which was fortunate, given the disposition of some of his clients. “Well, I figure the older ones would be more likely to have been privy to the circumstances surrounding your adoption and might remember something I could use. I thought I’d start with them first.”

  He was being honest when he said he’d forgotten to ask her. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten lost in the sadness in her eyes and the pertinent question had eluded him.

  Devin didn’t usually forget things, nor was he accustomed to having his mind wander, as it was now. But he just couldn’t help thinking of the way she’d look wearing just the leather apron—and a smile.

  He was looking at her very oddly and she wondered if she had a smudge on her nose. Blair shifted a little, digging her hands deep into the pockets of her apron.

  “All right.” She paused, waiting for him to take his notebook out of his pocket. When he didn’t, she prodded, “Aren’t you going to write this down?”

  He nodded. “Yes.” But rather than take out the pad, Devin began to wander toward the rear of the house, as if she’d invited him on a tour. He looked at her over his shoulder. “You have any coffee?”

  “Coffee?” she repeated.

  “Yeah, you know, the stuff you tried to drown today in the diner.” She had wallpaper in the dining room. He didn’t generally care for wallpaper, but he had to admit he liked this. Tiny, bright yellow flowers twining their way up against an eggshell background. “I always work better with coffee.”

  He was either very thorough or very nosy, Blair thought, following in his wake. “I thought you said you worked better with a full stomach.”

  So she was paying attention to him. “That, too, but I thought it might be an imposition if I asked you to fix something for me.” He turned suddenly, facing her, so close to her that various bits of their anatomies touched. He glanced down at her apron. She didn’t do any cooking in that. “Or, seeing as how you look busy, I could fix something for you.”

  Blair took a step back, trying to regain her composure. Devin Quartermain brought new meaning to the term “up close and personal.” This was a little too personal for her to successfully handle.

  She did her best to maintain the boundaries between them. “Are you turning this into a social call?”

  He liked the way her eyes glinted, and the slight, nervous way the pulse at her throat quavered when he’d accidentally brushed up against her. And, heaven help him, he liked the feeling of brushing up against her. Not very professional of him, he admonished himself. But he had to admit, it was damn pleasant.

  Devin backtracked, looking for middle ground. He worked better in a relaxed atmosphere. Too bad he couldn’t seem to remember that this time.

  “No, but there’s no rule that business has to be conducted solemnly, either.” He looked around. “Which way’s the kitchen?” She pointed to the left. “Through that doorway.” To her surprise, he actually walked in that direction. Blair hurried after him. “Wait a minute. You just can’t come in here and—”

  “Why?” he asked innocently. “You opened the door,” he reminded her.

  Exasperation began to break off little bits of her. “Because you rang.”

  Devin spread his hands, as if she’d answered the jackpot question. “And here I am.”

  “And here you are,” she agreed. Getting in my way, she added silently. Blair ran the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “Why don’t I just give you those ages and you can go?”

  “High—strung,” he murmured, as if he were making verbal notes to himself. “Anyone ever tell you that’s not good for your health?”

  Turning, he didn’t wait for an answer but walked into her kitchen.

  It was neat in here as well, and it was obvious from her manner that she wasn’t expecting company. His mother would just love Blair Stephens. Didn’t this woman ever get messy?

  “Neither is being invaded.”

  The smile was slow, sexy, rising without bidding. “This is a visit. You’ll know when you’re being invaded, I promise you.”

  If it hadn’t been such a dead giveaway, she would have started to fan herself to cut the sudden flash of heat in the room.

  He glanced at the counter. Well scrubbed, it was empty. “So, where do you keep the coffeemaker?”

  “I’m the coffeemaker.” She faltered a moment when he raised one eyebrow. Why did that look impossibly sexy? And—why was she even thinking about sexy? She didn’t need sexy in her life. She needed answers. Closure. “I mean, I just boil water in a pot whenever I need it.”

  “Instant coffee?” Devin said the words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth.

  She almost laughed then. “I’m not much of a coffee drinker.” Actually, she preferred tea.

  “Obviously.” He should have guessed that from this morning, but he’d thought it was nerves and preoccupation. Which was what happened to you when you didn’t have coffee first thing in the morning, he mused.

  Her hands slid from her pockets, fisting at her waist. “Did you come here to harass me?”

  “No,” he said patiently, “I told you, I came for the ages of your relatives. But I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t be sociable. Things move along much better that way.” He supposed he could settle for instant. He really wasn’t here for the coffee. “And like I said—”

  She shut her eyes, repeating the words as if they were pre—recorded. “I might say something that could be useful.”

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  She didn’t know what to make of him, or of the effect he seemed to be having on her. An effect she had no time for. “Right now, I could only say something that wouldn’t prove useful, but would be damn entertaining to one of us.”

  Some things, Devin decided, were best left unsaid. But he still laughed.

  Blair found herself enjoying the sound, even though she didn’t want to.

  4

  There was a soft spot in Devin’s heart for kitchens. In his mother’s house, the kitchen had always been the gathering place for the family. It was there that he’d chosen to do homework and study for exams rather than isolate himself in his room. It was there that his friends had gathered to shoot the breeze after school and there he and his family had comforted one another when a heart attack had claimed his father years too soon.

  He believed you could tell a lot about people by the way they kept their kitchen. Like the rest of Blair’s house, her kitchen was neat. There wasn’t even a glass draining in the sink, much less sitting unwashed on the counter.

  But despite the fact that everything was so carefully arranged, there was a warmth that permeated the room. He could see cookies being baked here. And children running through, slowing down only to grab a carton of milk from the refrigerator.

  Everything about her indicated that she was a family person, he thought. A family person who was temporarily without a family.

  He wondered how long it would take her to forgive all the people whose names were in his notepad and get back to normal.

  Leaning back in his chair, Devin studied Blair for a long, thoughtful moment before he phrased a simpler question, one that had been nagging at him since he’d walked in.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing that warrants a leather apron? As far as I know the nearest blacksmith’s shop is in Georgetown.”

  His question made her laugh. Blair had watched in fascination as Devin had measured out two and a half times the recommended serving size of instant coffee and poured the dark crystals into his coffee cup before adding hot water. He didn’t bother using either the cream or the sugar she had placed beside him.

  Blair held her breath as he raised the cup to his lips. What was his stomach made of?

  “I make jewelry.” The answer was distr
acted. She couldn’t take it any longer. “Do you realize that you’re drinking mud?”

  He grinned and it went straight to her head. You would have thought that she had been the one who had just ingested an incredible amount of caffeine, instead of him.

  “Yes, that’s the way I like it.” Devin set down his cup. “Any money in that? Making jewelry, I mean,” he clarified.

  He thought of his sister. Paige’s passion had always been painting, but it was a hard way to earn a living. Practical as well as dedicated, she drove an ambulance by day to pay her bills until her “big break” materialized. He was damn proud of her for sticking to her dreams. He liked to think he’d had a hand in that.

  Blair raised her eyes to his. Was he worried about his fee already? Was this “visit” just a smoke screen so that he could feel her out about her assets? “Enough to pay you.”

  He could almost see the thought process going on and it amused him. “Touch6.” He took another sip. Damn, but that instant stuff did have a bite to it as long as you knew how to mix it. “Just making conversation, Blair.”

  As he leaned forward across the table, she moved back on her seat Though she hated to admit it, there was just something about having him too close that rattled her. “Shouldn’t you be making inquiries instead?”

  “All right,” he allowed.

  His eyes were fixed on hers and Blair suddenly realized what was coming next. More questions about her life.

  “I meant in other directions.” Because the right words eluded her, she moved her hands impotently in the air as if that would somehow flush them out. “Don’t you have any resources to turn to?”

  For a second, his mind took a backseat to all things physical and sensuous as his eyes slid slowly along her face, coming to rest on her mouth. It was a perfect mouth, not too large, not too small. Just right for smiling and for laughing. And kissing.

  The last thought made him itchy in places he couldn’t allow himself to scratch.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  Why did she get the feeling that they were waltzing around topics that weren’t as clear—cut as they seemed?

  And why did he make her so nervous? Because she was—very nervous—but in such a nice way that she almost enjoyed it.

  The stress had to be getting to her. There was no other explanation for her reactions.

  Blair braced her hands on the edge of the table, ready to push herself away. “I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but—”

  She was trying to get rid of him. Well, for now he had his answers. Before grudgingly offering him the coffee, she’d given him the ages of all the relatives she had mentioned earlier today, as well as lending him a photograph taken last year at a family picnic. He hadn’t thought it was possible to fit so many people into one frame.

  Devin didn’t have to flip the photograph over to know that she had meticulously labeled each member of the group.

  “I’ll just finish my coffee and go,” he assured her. He knew he really should be on his way, although he felt a certain reluctance about leaving. She’d opened up just the tiniest bit more to him and he had to re strain the desire to pry the space open just a crack more.

  He looked around the kitchen. The wide, almondcolored refrigerator was perfect for hanging drawings, report cards and candid photos of children in Little League uniforms. The way some of the magnets were arranged, he had a hunch there’d been just those kind of things hanging there until very recently.

  Had she ripped them off in a fit of anger and hurt?

  His eyes came back to her. “Unless there’s something you’d like me to do.”

  Do? Do what? Was this man trying to move into her life? Why? Suspicions of his motives cropped up even as she hated the feeling. Nothing was simple anymore. And for her it never would be again.

  “Going will be fine. Finding my sister would even be better,” she added pointedly.

  He nodded, taking another long sip of the bitter brew. He could feel her watching him. When he looked, he saw an involuntary shiver slither down her shoulders.

  Blair would shiver like that when she was making love. The thought came to him without preamble, bursting on his brain and tantalizing him. Devin looked down into the last murky mouthful in his cup. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was drinking his coffee too strong.

  Devin took one last sip and then pushed the cup aside. Blair rose a beat before he did, then turned to lead the way to the front door.

  She seemed eager to get rid of him, he thought. He wondered why as he followed her to the foyer.

  At the door, Devin stopped to look at her. That same strange feeling stirred within him as his eyes met hers. “One last question.”

  Blair had a feeling that there would never be a single “last question” with Quartermain, but an endless parade of them, making their appearance one at a time.

  “Yes?” she asked, struggling for patience. She wanted to get back to her work before inspiration completely evaporated. It was elusive at best.

  And more than that, she wanted him gone. She couldn’t even explain to herself exactly why.

  “Why do you want to find your sister?”

  She thought that a strange question to ask, given his occupation. What did it matter to him why she wanted Claire found? He was getting paid to do a job, that was all he needed to know.

  Blair pursed her lips, unaware of how inviting a gesture that was. “Because.”

  “Because?” he prodded, waiting.

  Blair knew that she didn’t have to answer him. Nowhere in this agreement did it say she owed him any explanations, just a fee for services rendered. Without fully understanding why, she found herself elaborating just the smallest bit. “Because I have to know.”

  Each half answer just led to more questions. “Know what, Blair?” he asked softly.

  He was standing much too close, invading her space literally as well as figuratively. But it never occurred to her to refuse to answer outright. “Is this really necessary?”

  He paused before replying, weighing her question. He would have said no if he could. But he couldn’t. Something told him that this was important. “Yes, I think it is.”

  She shrugged carelessly. Maybe it would help him find her sister if she told him. Who knew how these things worked? “All right, you’re the professional. If I find Claire, maybe I’ll find out who I am.”

  The tortured look in her eyes underlined her words. He fought the urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. He knew how very soul—wrenching sadness could be.

  “Don’t you already know who you are?”

  It was a gently framed question and Blair responded to his tone with more feeling than she would have believed possible. Frustration fought with impotence. “I thought I did. But I’m not Blair Stephens anymore. Ever since Tuesday, I’m Blair—with—NoName, no background.” No nothing, except for a photograph and a faint link to the past.

  So that was it, he thought. Finding out she was adopted had robbed her of her identity. Or so she believed. He doubted that she was really as fragile as she thought; she just didn’t know it yet.

  “Why is the name you don’t know more important than the one that you do? After all, the latter is yours legally.”

  She hadn’t hired him to carry on a philosophical debate with her. She could do that herself in the privacy of her bedroom when sleep refused to come to relieve her all night long.

  “It just is, that’s all,” she said curtly. Already rubbed raw, her temper threatened to flare. “Listen, Mr. Quartermain—”

  They just had to get on a more informal level. He’d never been one to enjoy being constricted by the conventions of polite society.

  “Devin,” he instructed.

  She didn’t want to get personal, but if it would hurry this along, so be it. “Devin,” she repeated. “If you don’t want this case—”

  “I never said that,” he cut in amiably. She did rile easily, he thought. “I just like having my questions answe
red.”

  The headache that had been playing hide-and-seek with her all morning was threatening to take off the top of her head now. She wished he’d leave already.

  “All right, then answer one of mine.”

  His nod told her that he thought it was only fair.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Where…is…she?” Blair enunciated each word carefully, as if it constituted a sentence of its own.

  That was what he’d signed on to find out. Devin smiled, giving her the round. But he intended to keep asking, until they both had an answer they were satisfied with.

  “I’ll get right on it,” he promised, reaching for the doorknob.

  And then he stopped. He couldn’t leave, not just yet. There was still some distracting unfinished business between them he had to attend to if he was to give her case the benefit of his full attention. He was a fool if he believed otherwise. And whatever else he was, he’d never been accused of being a fool.

  Devin turned around. “Oh, just one more thing.”

  Quartermain was inclining his head toward hers. Suddenly, her heart began beating wildly. This couldn’t be what she thought it was.

  “What are you doing?”

  The words had come out in a whisper. An enticing whisper. It only convinced him that he really had to get this out of the way.

  Never moving a muscle, still looking down into her face, he told her, “It’s customary when a man walks a woman to her door to kiss her goodbye.”

  Her eyes widened, but it was the only part of her that moved. The rest of her felt frozen. And oddly hot at the same time.

  “You didn’t walk me to the door, I walked you.”

  The smile began in his eyes, filtering down to his mouth, which curved invitingly. Sensuously.

  “Then I guess you’ll just have to kiss me.” Honesty, he reminded himself, honesty. He owed her that. “It’s something I’d like to get out of the way so I can think more clearly.” As he told her, his eyes caressed her mouth.

  Blair drew her breath in sharply. She could almost feel him touching her lips.

  “I’ve been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you ever since you walked in my office this morning. I figure kissing you will be doing both of us a service.”