He shrugged. "I don't know."
"I think you do."
"If I do, I don't want to talk about it."
"Are you going to wait to tell your mother about your dad?"
"Yes," he said, without a hint of doubt in his voice. "I want to know everything first."
"We're getting closer," Julia said. "We finally know who my parents are—and that Sarah isn't my mother." She let out a sigh of weariness. "I don't want to talk about this right now, either. I have a headache."
"You need a break, time to let everything sink in."
"I feel like there's a thick curtain in my brain and I can't see past it. How could I have forgotten my twin sister for even a moment? Shouldn't there have been a connection between us? Shouldn't I have felt as if a part of me was missing?"
Alex's eyes filled with compassion. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You were three years old. You were a baby. Your whole life changed in an instant. I'm sure you missed your sister when you were first separated. But you had to bury that pain to survive. Then your life was filled with other people."
"That's true. My mother—Sarah—did manage to get pregnant, despite what everyone else told us. I was there for that part. I wonder if she regretted taking me then. After all, she had her own child. She could have given me away and still had her own family." Julia thought about all that had transpired, how many lives had been touched by her mother's one reckless decision. And up until today, she'd never thought of her mother as reckless. "My mother feels like a stranger to me now. How could I live with her for twenty-five years and not know her at all?"
"I know you're probably mad as hell at her, Julia, but I have to say, who knows what would have happened to you if Sarah had left you in foster care as she was supposed to? It's highly likely that you ended up having a much better life with her. It wasn't as if she stole you from your parents. They were already gone."
Alex was right. Her parents had been killed before Sarah decided to keep her. "I hadn't thought of it like that."
"That's because you haven't had time to think."
She smiled at him. "Thanks for sticking by me. I appreciate it."
"We made a deal to see this through."
"And I couldn't do it without you. You're a rock."
"A rock, huh? I think you can do better than that," he said, moving his hand down to her knee, where he let his fingers stray up her thigh.
She grinned as she put her hand over his, stopping his exploration. "Are you looking for compliments?"
"I'm looking for something," he said with a laugh.
"Behave yourself."
"I'm tired of behaving. I've been good all day." He leaned forward and stole a quick kiss.
That's all it took to send a wave of heat through her body. She was really in over her head, she thought. Far too involved, far too attracted, far too tempted.
Alex leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers, lingering a little longer this time, making her remember the way he'd kissed a path down her body the night before. She tried to get closer to him, but she ran into the gearshift, reminding her that she was making out in a public parking lot.
She pushed Alex away with an embarrassed laugh. "Not like this," she said.
"Good point. There's a hotel room just a few feet away." There was a question in his eyes as he finished his sentence, a question she could easily answer.
"Let's get a king-size bed," she said.
His eyes darkened. "Now you're talking."
"Actually, I don't feel like talking. That's all we've done today. I don't want to think anymore," she replied.
"Neither do I."
"Aren't you worried that I might be using you?" she teased.
"Use away," he said with a crooked grin. "I'm all yours. Come on."
She laughed as he jumped out of the car. She had to jog to keep up with him. She tried to act nonchalant as Alex asked for a room, not that it mattered. The desk clerk wasn't even remotely interested in who they were or whether or not they had any luggage.
They kissed all the way to their room on the fourth floor, laughing like reckless teenagers when Alex fumbled with the key card and couldn't get the door open. She took it out of his hand and did the honors. Finally, they were inside.
Julia didn't have time to see the room, because Alex pressed her back against the door, his lips on her mouth, his hands on her breasts. He was hot and hard, and she was on fire. All the tension of the day blew up in one explosive kiss. They made short work of their clothes, falling on the bed, naked and eager to get as close as possible.
"We should slow down," Alex said with a groan as his hands roamed restlessly on her body.
"Next time," she said, pulling him into the cradle of her hips. She wanted him inside of her, on top of her, surrounding her with his body, his heart, and his soul. She needed to hold on to something real, and he was beautifully real. She trusted him more than she trusted herself, so she stopped thinking and directed all of her crazy, mixed-up emotions toward him until they both found a blessed release.
It was a while later before either one of them moved; then Alex rolled off her onto his side. He pulled her into his body, spoon fashion, putting his arm across her waist. She blew out a breath and closed her eyes. Maybe she'd just take a little nap. There would be plenty of time to think and worry and analyze when she woke up.
Alex fell asleep before she did, his deep, contented breathing providing a comforting rhythm. Julia let her mind drift, trying to think of something nice, pretty, uncomplicated—a field of wildflowers or a running stream... Instead, her sister's face floated through her mind.
Elena sat next to her on the couch. They were both too short for their legs to reach the ground, so they were kicking their feet up in the air, sometimes kicking each other by accident. Only she didn't always do it by accident; sometimes she did it on purpose, because she was tired of waiting. But Elena sent her a cross look, so she stopped.
Julia looked around the room. It was dark and a little scary. The furniture was big and really old. The pictures on the wall were of people she didn't recognize. They looked mean. The only pretty things in the room were the vases of flowers that her mother received almost every day from her fans.
Everyone loved her mother. Wherever they went, people came up to kiss her hand, to tell her she was beautiful, magical, like a princess. Julia wanted to be a princess like her mother. But Elena would probably make a better one. Everyone said Elena was just like their mother, so graceful, so sweet, and already learning how to dance. Julia didn't want to dance. She wanted to play one of the big instruments that made lots of noise. She thought that would be more fun.
The door opened and a woman came into the room. She wore a beautiful red dress, and her hair fell down to her waist in pretty blond waves. She smiled at them both and kneeled in front of them, putting a hand on each of them.
She was talking again about leaving. They would be parted for a short time, she said. Only a few days. They would have to be brave little girls.
Julia felt tears gathering in her eyes and fear knotting her stomach. She didn't want to be brave. She didn't want her mother and father to leave. She wanted them all to be together. Her mother was sad, too. A tear dripped out of her eye and down her cheek. Julia put out her hand and caught the tear with her fingertip. As she stared at it, she felt terribly afraid.
Her mother stood up. She blew them a kiss, telling them to have courage and faith, that love was worth the risk.
Then she was gone. Olga helped them put on their hats and their coats, and whisked them away from the house. Once outside, Julia pressed her fingers against the cold pane of the car window, watching her house fade away. She wanted to go home. She began to cry and pound on the window, but they kept getting farther and farther away... and she couldn't stop screaming.
"Julia, wake up. Wake up," Alex said loudly.
She felt someone shaking her, and Alex's voice finally reached her subconscious. Her eyes flew open. It took h
er a moment to remember where she was—in a hotel room with Alex. She was an adult now, not that scared little girl, but she was still trembling.
Alex ran his hand up and down her arm. "Are you okay?" he asked with concern.
She realized her cheeks were wet and her throat felt hoarse. Had she been shouting? "I was dreaming," she said, rolling over to face him.
He wiped away her tears with gentle fingers. "Bad dream?"
"Bad and good. I remembered the day my mother sent us away. She told us to be brave. She said love was worth the risk. I didn't know what she meant. I was so scared. I felt like I was choking on the fear. I knew I wasn't going to see her again. I could feel it."
He stroked her hair. "At least the memories are coming back now."
"I don't want them back," she said. "They hurt."
"How about some water?"
She nodded. As Alex got up, she slipped under the blanket, not quite as comfortable with her nudity now that they weren't making love. Alex pulled on his briefs and jeans, then returned to the bed with a bottled water from the minibar. He handed it to her, then picked up the room service menu from the nightstand. "What do you think about some food? It's after seven."
It was such a practical question, she had to smile. "I am hungry."
"They look like they have a pretty good menu. Steak, fish, salad. What's your pleasure?"
"Cheeseburger, French fries, and a chocolate milk shake. Oh, and maybe a salad, too, so I don't feel totally guilty."
He gave her a knowing grin. "That's exactly what I order every time I come home. It always makes me feel like my life is back to normal."
"I have a feeling it will take more than a cheeseburger to make me feel that way, but at least it's a start."
While Alex was ordering, Julia rose from the bed and got dressed.
"I liked you better naked," Alex said as he hung up the phone.
His wicked grin was completely lethal. She almost felt like stripping down for him again—almost. After a day of shocking revelations, her brain was beginning to work again. And she needed to start thinking about her current situation and what she was going to do about it.
"Back to work, huh?" Alex asked, obviously reading her mind.
"Is your laptop still in the car?"
Alex glanced around the room. "It must be. You distracted me so much, I forgot to bring it in."
"We need to make plane reservations for tomorrow, and we should try to find the location of the ballet companies in Washington DC. Maybe we can get a head start on tracking down Elena. We can also look up information on my mother and father."
"Thank God for the Internet," he said. "I'll get the computer out of the car." He slipped on his shirt and buttoned it up. "Don't let anyone in while I'm gone."
"I'm sure no one knows we're here."
"I still want the deadbolt on as soon as I leave. We can't be too careful, Julia. My dad made it clear that whoever killed your parents had connections on this side of the world. And we know firsthand those connections still exist."
"Are you deliberately trying to scare me? I just got my heart back to its normal rhythm."
"I..." His expression turned serious. "I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I already slept with you. You don't have to sweet-talk me," she said lightly.
"I mean it, Julia. Lock the door."
"I will." She followed him to the door, prepared to throw the deadbolt as soon as he left. Alex put his hand around the back of her neck and kissed her as if he were leaving forever, instead of just going to the car. Then he was gone.
Shaken, she slid the deadbolt into place, hoping to God he really was coming back. That would always be the problem with Alex, she realized. She'd never be sure how long he would stay or if he'd return. But how could she complain? If she'd wanted a man who never left, she wouldn't have broken up with Michael.
Chapter Nineteen
Liz waited on the dock as Michael helped the last of his passengers off the fifty-foot yacht he used for charter services. The Annabelle was one of two boats owned by Michael's family. She knew he preferred the sailboat over the yacht, but his older brother had seniority in deciding which boat to run. She waved as he saw her. "Hey," she called.
He looked as if he wished he hadn't seen her and that she'd go away, but she was determined to talk to him. "Can I come up?" Without waiting for a reply, she boarded the yacht.
Michael wore his sailing clothes: jeans, a sweater, and a thick jacket. His face was red from the wind, his light brown hair ruffled and damp.
"What do you want?" he asked, a grumpy note to his voice.
"That's a nice greeting. I came to see how you were."
"I'm working. That's how I am."
"You're done working," she pointed out. "And I think you owe me more than attitude. I did help you with your house, not to mention a few dozen other things over the last year."
"Fine. But if you came here to talk about Julia, I'm not interested."
"I didn't come here to talk about Julia. I came here to talk about me. You probably don't care about any of this, but I want you to know anyway. I quit my job at the cafe. I signed up for some classes at San Francisco State. I'm going to finish my education."
"What brought this on?"
"Julia gave me a kick in the butt. She pointed out to me recently that I've been sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else play. And she was right." Liz paused. "I'm still pissed off at her, but what she said about me was true. I have been drifting aimlessly for over a year now. I kept thinking something great would fall in my lap, but I guess it doesn't happen that way." She watched him closely for his reaction, knowing his opinion was extremely important to her. "What do you think?"
He didn't answer right away, and each passing second made her more anxious.
"I think you're on the right track, Lizzie," he said at last, his scowl replaced by the warm smile she loved so much.
"Really?" She felt so relieved. "That means a lot to me. You're important to me, Michael. Not just because of what you were to Julia. I thought we were friends, too."
"We are friends." He patted her on the shoulder. "Don't ever think we're not."
"I won't. How's the house coming along?"
"It's not. I haven't felt like working on it since—"
"But you have to finish it. It's your house. It's your dream."
"A dream is something you share with someone."
"I don't believe that," she said with a toss of her head. "A dream is personal. That house means something to you. I should know. I saw the way you lovingly caressed the walls."
"I didn't do that."
She grinned. "You were close. Anyway, want some help? I have some free time tonight. I can scrape wallpaper, paint, or do whatever you need."
"That's a nice offer, but—"
She cut him off. "I'd really like to help, and if you're smart, you won't turn me down."
"I don't even know if I'm going to keep the house. It's too big for a single guy. Unless you think Julia will change her mind?"
Liz wished she could give him a different answer, but she couldn't. "I'm sorry, but I don't. I think Julia has a lot of plans that don't include you. She's on a quest to change her life. She's like a bird sprung from a cage, and she wants to fly everywhere, see everything."
"You're right. I've been thinking a lot about the relationship we had. Julia started pulling away from me the day of your mother's funeral. I was just hanging on so tight she couldn't get loose." He dug his hands into his pockets and walked to the side of the boat, staring out at the bay. "If it hadn't been this search of hers, it would have been something else that broke us up. I was just so ready to get married. I couldn't see that she wasn't."
Liz didn't say anything. Michael was lost in his thoughts, and she didn't want to intrude. Getting over Julia would be difficult for him, but she believed now that they would both find a better future on their own.
"I never should have bought that hou
se without talking to her," Michael added. "I told my sister about it, and she said she couldn't believe I'd made such a bonehead move. Apparently it's not romantic to surprise a woman with a house."
"I think it's really romantic. If it had been me, I would have been very happy, but that's just me. I still think you should finish remodeling it. It's a great place, and you love it. Someday you'll find a woman who loves it, too. Then it will be ready."
Michael turned back to her. "Maybe I'll paint the back bedroom today. If you want to help, I won't say no."
"I'm your girl," she said, "as long as you buy me a pizza. I'm starving."
"Okay, but we're getting plain cheese pizza. I hate all that fancy—" Michael stopped. "Do you know that guy?" he asked, tipping his head toward a man on the pier. "He's been staring at you since you got here."
As Liz turned her head, the man pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes and walked away. "I don't know him." She licked her lips, feeling a little nervous. "I hope he's not the man who broke into our apartment. Julia said he was following her around. What if he's following me now?"
"The police haven't found out who ransacked your place?"
"No. I'm scared, Michael."
He stepped closer to her, putting his arm about her shoulders. "Don't worry. I'm here. I'll take care of you."
"Thanks."
"I hope Julia has someone watching her back."
Liz had a feeling that someone's name was Alex.
* * *
"It's me," Alex said as he knocked on the hotel room door, his laptop under his arm.
Julia flung the door open, her beautiful blue eyes worried. "Thank God, you're back."
"Why? Did something happen?" He searched her face for a clue to her distress.
"I just had a little panic attack, imagining that someone was waiting for you by the car or something crazy like that. I'm losing my mind, aren't I?"
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