by Jo Leigh
“Who would know better than me?”
She paused to sip on her drink. “No one.”
“There, you see?”
“I think I’m going to take back that not insufferable thing.”
“Too late.”
She smiled. “I don’t know any other twins. You two seem just right to me.”
“According to the experts we’re rubbish. Even twins raised continents apart are better at it than we are.”
She shrugged, making the shirt dip down over her left shoulder, revealing her black bra strap. “What do experts know?”
He swallowed too much and coughed for a while, his nose and throat burning. That would teach him.
“You all right?”
He wanted to tell her that no, he wasn’t in the least bit all right. She had no business taking off her dress when he was so distracted and why couldn’t she just put up with the length of the much more appropriate robe? He nodded.
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m antsy and I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“I understand.”
“Between us, we should be able to think of something.”
He had thought of something: forgetting all the reasons he and Maggie should only be friends. She looked even better in his shirt than she had in the red dress. Her hair seemed a darker red, her skin fairly glowed. He’d always thought she was attractive, but lately it had been on his mind a lot. It would have been so much easier if she had a man in her life. Or maybe it would have been unbearable.
He stood, needing some distance. A distraction. There weren’t enough rooms in his flat. He would call Blake’s boss. Find out if he’d heard anything at all.
Maggie picked up the remote control for the TV over the fireplace. It was already on BBCA but it wasn’t the news, it was a repeat of a Doctor Who episode with David Tennant. Nice chap. Scot. They’d met at a charity dinner.
“Isn’t there an all-day BBC news channel?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “But not on my feed.”
“Figures.” She left the remote and headed for the bar.
He dialed Blake’s boss, but it went to voice mail and he hung up in disgust. Maggie returned, brushing her sleeve against his and the urge to touch her flared inside him. “Do you think your dress is better now?”
Her mouth opened briefly and she turned away. “I doubt it, but I’ll go see.”
“Wait,” he said, catching her arm. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
He turned her to face him square on, and he could see he’d been correct.
She let out a breath. “If you want me to leave, just say the word.”
“Of course I don’t want you to leave.”
Her blush made her lovely. Lovelier. “The dress? It’s only been about fifteen minutes.”
“Oh. Well. Then don’t bother with it. I just thought you might be more comfortable.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Who would know better than me?”
No one. Ever. “It’s the scotch, that’s all.”
Maggie looked down at his hand, still holding her arm. It was a tight hold, one that would hurt in a minute if he wasn’t careful. The scotch story was complete bull, that she knew. He could handle his liquor, just as he could handle almost any situation. His family drove him crazy, but then that was true for everyone. “Colin?”
He dropped his hand. “Shit.”
“It’s all right. You have a free pass today. Okay? At least until Blake checks in.”
His brow lifted, transforming his expression into one she hadn’t seen before. “You mean I can get away with anything?”
She eyed him for a minute, not sure what to make of the lower pitch of his voice, the way his gaze had darkened. Her skin tingled with awareness. The sudden tension had to be her imagination…
He leaned forward and oh, God, he was going to—No. He thrust out his nearly empty glass. “Yes, I’ll have another. Thank you.”
There was no denying she felt disappointed, but she didn’t let it show. Chiding herself for being foolish, she simply took his glass.
He went back to pacing as she got to the wet bar. It was a beautiful thing, that bar, and it was sorely underused. He rarely drank, she never did when she had to work the next day. She loved that there was always 7-Up and how he kept the much despised Baileys on hand because she enjoyed one from time to time.
It was so like him.
And so unlike Blake. That bastard never had anything on hand. Never had any cash, either. How many meals had she paid for with him? She’d lost count, and all hope she’d ever be reimbursed. It should have annoyed her a lot more, given that he was dripping in money. He simply forgot to bring any, and he usually ended up leaving his credit cards at home. Curse of traveling to dicey places, he’d explained, although she’d long thought he was just cheap.
The problem with Blake was that he always got away with it. She’d seen it over and over. People actually felt good about him leaching off them. Grown men who should know better. Women, well, she just figured they’d lost their good sense five minutes after meeting him. That never failed, either.
“What has you so angry?”
She looked up at him as she put the top back on the scotch. “I’m trying to figure out how much your no-good brother owes me. It’s got to be in the thousands.”
“Join the queue. I end up paying all kinds of people back, afraid he’ll put a black mark on the family name.”
“What am I, chopped liver?”
“What?”
She ignored both drinks as she rounded the bar. “You never pay me back.”
“I always pay for the meals when the three of us go out.”
“Oh. Right.”
He gave her the eyebrow lift. Both brows. This expression she knew. “And how often do you and Blake eat together without me?”
“All the time. When we’re in the same place, of course. He doesn’t buy me dinner over the Internet or anything.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“What?”
“All the time?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I told you. Nothing ever happened between us. Just like nothing ever happened between us,” she said.
His mouth opened in what she could only assume was righteous indignation. “That’s how it should be. We’re friends.”
His phone rang. He stared at it for a several rapid heartbeats before he flipped it open. His eyes, right then, told her everything.
“Blake?”
Tears burned as Colin’s face relaxed. Which meant Blake was safe. Not hurt. Not dead.
“You bloody moron,” Colin shouted. “Where are you?” He cursed violently. “I can barely hear you. No, wait. Okay. Call me when you get a better line.”
He held the phone tightly to his ear, but she could see he wasn’t hearing anything. Finally, he flipped the thing closed, tossed it on the couch. “Thank God,” he said, exhaling sharply.
“Do you know where he is?”
He shook his head. “Just that he’s safe. The idiot.”
Maggie smiled. “Yes, he is. Did he call your parents or are you in charge of that?”
“I think his boss is ringing them now, but I’ll make sure they know.” He still looked dazed, still a bit angry. Then he shoved a hand through his hair and the stoic mask fell into place. “Good. Now things can get back to normal.”
Normal. The status quo. Only not for her. There would be no more dreams of a Broadway career. No more dreams of Colin falling in love with her. No more dreams at all.
He pulled her close for a hug, nothing more. But when she looked into his eyes, something snapped. And she kissed him.
5
THIS WAS CRAZY. She knew it was a mistake and she didn’t care. He didn’t love her, didn’t want her. This was simply about raw emotion, relief that Blake was alive. But still, she kissed him. Even with her eyes closed, tears slipped down her cheeks, and she d
idn’t care about that, either.
Then his lips parted, and, oh, God, he was kissing her back. His hands pulled her closer as he explored her mouth. Her heart pounded as she abandoned all restraint and showed him the truth. That she loved him, had loved him and that she always would.His hands moved down her back, down the white Oxford shirt as he pressed his whole body against her. She gasped as she felt him harden, blushed even though she’d dreamed of him like this.
Still holding her tight, he pulled her with him as he moved back to the couch, lifting her legs so she straddled his lap. In a burst of surprise and delight, she used both fists to grab hold of his white shirt, and she kissed him again. Deeply. Passionately. Aggressively.
He met her just as eagerly. Could it be that she wasn’t completely insane and that he wanted her, too?
It had been so long, and she’d been so sure it was hopeless. She’d tried to like someone else, anyone else, but it was only him. All these years, and…oh. His hand moved underneath her shirt and touched her bare back. He had the most beautiful hands, and they were touching her, finally, with need. She felt him tremble. All right, maybe that was her, but it could be both of them. His other hand came to join the first, but she couldn’t bear to stop kissing him, not even to touch more than his chest.
Her body shivered as his fingers skimmed up her back. Pulling away, needing to breathe, she looked at him. His eyes opened. Dark, needy. And ashamed.
Oh, God.
Letting go of his shirt, she pushed him back against the couch, her heart thudding for a completely different reason.
He stretched, trying to kiss her again, but she climbed off him, took a couple of steps back.
His lips, still damp, parted. “Maggie?”
“Colin,” she said, and it was her real voice. Not giddy with kisses and touching. “I’m sorry. That was a mistake. With Blake and all, I got carried away.”
Instead of snapping out of his trance, he reached for her. “Please, Maggie, don’t.”
She didn’t want to stop. She wanted all her fantasies to come true, but they were fantasies. He was just happy, that’s all. Relieved that his twin was safe and she happened to be here. Responding because he was human and she’d practically attacked him.
But the truth had been in his eyes. “Colin, what do you want?”
“What?”
“What do you want from me?”
“I thought I was making myself pretty clear.”
“Aside from sex. After. What then?”
“I know it was impetuous, and probably not the smartest thing we’ve ever done, but Maggie, I care about you. You’re my touchstone, my closest friend. But I really do find you attractive. I always have.”
She pushed her hair back as she turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
He came up behind her, put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. Not for that. I’m not.”
She plastered a smile on her face before she turned, dislodging his hand. “All right, then, I won’t. Hey, didn’t I pour us some drinks?” She spun around and went to the wet bar, but it was no use. She needed a moment alone, because her smile was going to crack into a thousand pieces. “I’ll be back.”
She used his bathroom, although she wished so hard she was at home. Her dress, covered in its thick, disgusting paste, looked almost as bad as she felt. Maggie sat down on the edge of his tub and curled her arms around her waist. She leaned over, trying like hell not to sob. He’d know. She wasn’t one of those dainty things who let loose one solitary tear. She looked hideous when she really cried. Her face scrunched, her eyes got puffy and red. They probably already were from before.
The last thing she wanted was for things to go to hell before she moved. She still treasured his friendship, and with some distance, there was a real chance it could be just that. A friendship, on both sides. She didn’t have anyone else, at least not a friendship that would stand the test of time. Being a military brat had made her wary of commitments, of making friends only to lose them. If she lost Colin, she’d be all alone.
He was right. He’d always been right. If they had sex, there was no telling what would happen between them. It was better not to know. Not to risk losing everything.
Tears threatened to fall again, and she pushed her palms against her eyes until she saw stars. When she could breathe without bursting, she looked at her hands, at the smudges of mascara.
Today was supposed to have been triumphant. The best day of her life.
A knock on the door made her grab on to the tub. “Yes?”
“You all right? Can I get you anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Just trying to get the dress clean. I’ll be out in a minute.”
There was no response and she relaxed. And then he spoke, stopping her heart again. “We should talk.”
“I won’t be long. Why don’t you put on the kettle?”
“Good idea. Yes. I’ll…I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
“Right.”
She waited until she thought he must be gone, then she stood to take the few steps to the counter. It was clear the cornstarch hadn’t had enough time to soak up the oil, but she didn’t care. There was no way she was staying here. Not for the world. She’d done her duty as a friend, but now it was time for her to go home, where she could cry as hard as she wanted.
It took a long time to get the powder off the dress, and it was a horrible job. The oil remained, but now it was a white paste. It didn’t matter. She had her coat, and if she couldn’t wear this dress again, so be it.
Taking off his shirt was terribly bittersweet. She folded it neatly, even though she knew he was going to have it cleaned. Then she put her dress back on, not willing to look at the mess in the mirror.
Finally, after washing her hands and wiping off the smudges under her eyes, she opened the door. Following a couple of deep breaths, she went quietly into the living room, to the couch where she’d put her coat and boots. Slipping them on as silently as possible, she put her heels into her bag, and went to face him.
He stood at the counter, leaning on his hands as he stared out the window.
“Colin.”
He spun around. For a second, he looked hurt. But no, not him. Worried, maybe, but not hurt. “You’re leaving?”
“I need to go. You haven’t slept in ages. And you need to call your parents. Besides, it’s getting late. I have to get ready.”
“Ready?”
“Just one of the things I forgot to tell you,” she said, not sure why she was saying it even as the words left her lips. “I’ve got a date for New Year’s.”
“You don’t. We talked about it. Before.”
“You assumed I didn’t, Colin, and no wonder. I haven’t been getting out nearly enough. And then Jeffrey, you know, from the IT department, he asked and I said yes.”
“Jeffrey?”
She had no idea why she’d picked him. He was pleasant and not awkward for an IT guy, but she wasn’t remotely interested in him. “He’s smart and funny, too. And I have to figure out what I’m going to wear.” She waved her free hand as if it were no big deal. “You’ll be all right, won’t you?”
“Me?” He didn’t answer for a long time. “Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine. Wait. You said this was one of the things you forgot to tell me. What was the other?”
She stopped cold. It took her a moment to regroup. Right. Weeks ago, when she’d first gotten the offer, she’d told him there was a possible promotion in her future. She hadn’t mentioned anything about the new job requiring her to move to D.C. Because there’d been the hope. The dream. But there had been no audition. And now the only thing she had left was the opportunity to advance her career.
It was the time to tell him. Now that she knew for certain there was no hope left with him, either.
The kettle whistled and he jerked the knob on the stove so hard she thought it might break.
“About that.” She cleared her throat. “You know the promotion I
spoke to you about? I’ve decided to accept the position. It’ll take a while for the paperwork to go through so it’s not as if I’ll be leaving that soon, but—”
“Leaving?” He stared at her, confusion clouding his features. “What do you mean?”
“The job is in the D.C. office.”
“No.”
She shrugged. “It’s not that far.”
“Christ, Maggie.” His lips thinned. He looked angry. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I didn’t know for sure until today.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Today?”
“No, no, it’s got nothing to do with—” She knew what he was thinking and she didn’t want him to presume she was moving because of that kiss. She looked away for a moment. “I promised myself that if the audition didn’t pan out, it was time for me to get serious about my career.”
As her words registered, he looked as if someone had punched him in the stomach, and then he muttered a word she’d never heard him use.
She had to get out of here. “Anyway, Happy New Year, Colin. I’m glad everything worked out so well.”
“Right.” He walked her to the front door, but didn’t open it.
“When you speak to Blake again, tell him not to be such an idiot.”
He said nothing. Didn’t even smile.
She stared down at her feet. “Happy New Year, Colin. Oh, I already said that.”
“Maggie—”
“It’s going to be hell getting a cab.” She flung open the door and hurried down the hall, more anxious to get out of there than she’d thought possible. Thankfully, the elevator was on his floor. She stepped inside, and the moment the doors were shut, she fell back against the wall. But she wouldn’t cry yet. Not yet.
6
COLIN SHUT THE DOOR and leaned his head against the wood. What the hell was going on? He felt as if he’d been hit over the head and wasn’t quite out of his coma. Maggie was moving away. And she’d kissed him. Not just any kiss, but a kiss that had knocked him for a considerable loop. And she’d been crying.
He started toward the kitchen, but segued to the bar instead where he picked up his scotch. After a healthy swig, he put his glass down, absolutely perplexed. Why wouldn’t she tell him the job wasn’t in New York? It made no sense. They spoke about most things, almost everything, and moving to D.C. was hardly insignificant.He went back to the couch, drink in hand. Doctor Who was still on, but a different episode. He looked away, stared instead at the carpet by the ottoman where she’d spilled the oil. Lord, the way she’d looked in his shirt. It wasn’t any wonder he’d reacted to her kiss. He wasn’t stupid, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t given the question serious thought. Blake had told him to go for it. In fact, he’d said Colin was a bloody imbecile if he didn’t.
