by Mia Carson
“This feels so surreal,” she mumbled, tilting her head back as she spun around slowly. When she came to a stop facing him, some of the light disappeared from her eyes filled with sudden worry. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will disappear. Or worse, that I’ve somehow created this alternate reality where everything is perfect and with one wrong move, it will implode.”
“Alternate reality?” he repeated, smirking. “You sound like a Trekkie, my dear Lana.”
Her face paled suddenly, and she shrugged. “Eh, my sister and I watched it a bit growing up. Some of it stuck with me, I guess.”
Why does she seem so nervous all of a sudden? “Well, as far as I can tell, this is real. Why don’t you explore the rest of the house and I’ll get us more champagne?”
She drained the rest of her glass, and as he turned to the kitchen, he heard her bare feet walk up the hardwood steps. He refilled the glasses with more champagne but didn’t hurry after her. His stomach clenched, but not out of nerves. He sensed something was wrong. All his hopes of this day running smoothly slipped away each second his mind ran through every possible scenario. What happened between the courthouse and his house? He assumed something as major as an irrational fear of cars would have been on her profile, not to mention the tattoo she hid on her back and who knew where else. He remembered his conversations with Billy over the week about ensuring no one caught wind of this ceremony, but what if she sold him out and that’s why she looked guilty? Was she being paid off by another politician? The idea pissed him off that someone would stoop so low as to make a scandal out of his life, and even worse, the idea that the woman he spoke with—that he felt such a strong connection with—was there under false pretenses.
“Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “You’re freaking out over nothing. Now go track down your wife and stop being so damned paranoid.”
His scolding didn’t help much, and by the time he reached the second floor, his emotions were in turmoil. He wanted to go back to the moment when she walked in the room at the courthouse. He walked around the upstairs, looking for her, until he spotted her standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. Vincent stopped abruptly, careful to be quiet as he stared at her face and the uncertainty there.
Maybe she’s just nervous about your expectations with sex, you idiot, he told himself sternly.
“So what do you think?” he asked as he approached her.
She jumped and her eyes widened. “About what?”
“The house.” He held out the glass of champagne and she took it, her hand shaking. “You can go in and look around if you want. There’s nothing weird in there, promise.”
Timidly, she stepped into the bedroom and circled the king-sized bed. “You have a very nice house. It’s great.” She licked her lips, and Vincent remembered what they felt like against his own. “I just…uh, I’m just a little out of sorts, I guess.”
“Lana, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, especially not on our first day together.”
She drained her champagne glass and set it on the chest of drawers beside her. A hand went to her mouth, and she shook her head, drawing down the curls and letting them fall over her shoulders as she removed the headband too, setting it and the pins by the glass. “That’s not it. I…I don’t think I can do this.”
He stepped back, confused by her words. He just told her they didn’t have to. “So you’re saying you didn’t feel anything when we kissed?” he asked, trying to better understand what was going through her mind as the annoying voice in his mind warned him something was off about this woman.
“No…no, I definitely did,” she whispered and smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes, eyes so different from the picture he knew by heart.
He set his glass down and walked to her, holding out his hand for hers. “Whatever you’re worried about, we can work it out together. That’s what couples do in a marriage, right?” He smoothed his hands through her hair, and his heart fluttered when her eyes closed and she relaxed at his touch. He moved one hand to her chin, holding it lightly as he tilted her head up so their lips met.
As before, his whole body came to life and he deepened the kiss, testing the waters and letting his tongue glide along her lower lip. Her mouth parted on a sigh, and he took his time exploring as she pressed her body full length against his. His hands slipped to her shoulders, squeezing them as the kiss grew into so much more. This woman was filled with an energy he only truly felt when they touched, but he wanted to feel it for longer than a few moments. Her body shifted and her breasts crushed into his chest. His arousal rose, and she gave a startled sound before her hips ground against his hard erection. He opened his eyes briefly to glance at the bed so close at hand and wondered if leading her over there was a good idea.
“Wait,” she whispered and stopped kissing him abruptly. “I’m sorry, I can’t…this isn’t right.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, out of breath and wanting her more than he’d wanted any other woman in his bed before. “Lana?”
She stumbled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself like she was cold. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I thought I could do this, but it’s not fair to you. God, I’m such an idiot!”
“Can you please tell me what’s going on?” he asked, worried she was about to have a panic attack of some sort, but when her next words left her mouth, he wondered how he managed to stay standing on his two feet.
“My name is not Lana. My name is Natalie.”
Natalie held her breath and waited. Vincent had been so nice to her all day, the perfect gentleman, and damn, did he know how to kiss. Whatever sexual tension was between them was certainly real, which was why she couldn’t bring herself to go any further until she told him the truth. It wasn’t fair to him and lying was not the person she was.
All right, Lana, I hope you have those backup plans in place¸ she thought. I think I’m about to get sued into next year.
Vincent’s hands twitched at his sides, and he looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. His mouth opened and closed several times like a fish searching for water but finding only air. “You’re…you’re not Lana Jenkins,” he muttered finally.
“No,” she said shaking her head. “I’m Natalie Jenkins.”
“So you’re her sister? How is this possible? The picture online…you look identical!”
“We are,” she whispered. “Identical twins.”
“Jesus,” he breathed and leaned against the wall with one hand, glaring openly at her. “You decided to simply take your sister’s place and marry a stranger? Who does that?”
“I know, I know, which is why I told you,” she argued. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking and she thought this would be a good idea and—”
“Who thought it would be? Are you working for someone?” he yelled.
“What?” she asked, confused. “No, my sister thought it was a good idea. She forgot she was on the site and is actually engaged to be married, and she thought I needed a way to get out. After the accident, she’s been worried and…and…none of this matters right now anyway.” She closed her mouth quickly, shutting off her rant, and hung her head. “Look, we can go get a divorce and this will all be over with and you don’t have to see me again.”
Her arms wrapped tightly around her as if to ward off whatever curses this man would fling at her. She marched to the door, but Vincent stopped her from leaving.
“What are you doing?” She glanced at his hand holding her arm and at the mix of anger and confusion in his eyes. Despite what she had done to this man, she wasn’t worried about him hurting her. She trusted him without fail. Why? She had no idea in hell, but she did.
“Hold on a second,” he mumbled and let her arm go. “Let’s talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I lied and I married you under false pretenses.”
“I realize that, but the situation is a bit more complicated for me, remember? It will be public recor
d that I was married, and it will also be public record if the same day I filed for divorce,” he told her firmly. “How do you think that will make me look to the voters?”
Natalie wasn’t sure why she did it, but she laughed—quietly at first, but it built until she almost howled, holding her aching sides. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about? You want to keep me around because of your damn image?’
His jaw tensed and he shook his head. “That’s not the only reason.”
“Oh no? Then what?”
“Despite this…current predicament, I felt something when we kissed, and I know you did too. Are you ready to walk out on that? Because I’m not.”
Natalie’s laughter died, and she blinked a few times. “But…I don’t understand.”
“The night on the computer, when we were talking, was that you or your sister?”
“Me. Lana never responded to you.”
“Then I think our next course of action should be to sit down and be truthful with each other. You mentioned an accident in your rant. What accident?”
Natalie huffed and stepped away from him. “You can’t really be this curious about me. You should be pissed and throw me out of the house!”
“I never said I wasn’t pissed,” he corrected with a smirk, “but I picked your sister because I thought she was you. Tell me the truth, Natalie. Why did you really agree to do this if it wasn’t to fuck up my political career?”
“You’re really concerned I’m here just to mess with you. Aren’t you a bit paranoid?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes, I am. It comes with the territory, I’m afraid. Why did you do this?”
She considered what her chances would be of trying to simply barrel past him and call a cab, but she remembered her bags had been dropped off here earlier that morning and she would have to either drag them with her or come back and get them.
Admit it, you don’t want to leave him either, not until you know what the hell that spark was. The kiss was incredible, but she refused to stay with him because of a damn kiss that made her toes curl and give herself hope that she wasn’t as horrible as those other guys said. Okay, now you’re getting ahead of yourself. She rolled her shoulders, remembering he hadn’t seen all of her yet.
“Natalie?”
“Right, explanation. My sister was worried about me turning into an anti-social hermit after the accident, and she forgot about her profile on the website.”
“You said that before. How did she forget about putting herself on a marriage website?”
Natalie’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, if you’d actually met Lana, you’d realize how scatterbrained and impulsive can be. She signed up for the website when she and her boyfriend were on a break. It’s a long story.”
He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “And this accident you keep mentioning? Does it have anything to do with your irrational fear of cars?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were a politician, not a psychic.”
“I’m good at reading people. How bad was the accident?”
Natalie’s eyes closed. She heard the squealing tires again, the horrible cracking as her car slid off the road and rolled down and down and down. Felt the heat of the flames again. Gritting her teeth, she refused to meet his gaze as she whispered, “Bad enough. Can we leave it at that?”
“Bad enough your sister was scared for you? Depression?” he asked, his voice softening as well as his face.
“It happens when you almost die,” she replied sharply. “Sorry, it’s been a long recovery.”
“It’s hard to recover if you lock yourself in your apartment. I’m going to take a guess that you haven’t been on a date in a long time, either.”
Natalie glared at him and stiffened her shoulders. “You have no idea what I went through, all right? I’ll answer the important questions, but I am not going to drag up what happened for your amusement.”
The anger faded almost completely from his face. “Sorry, you’re right.”
“No, you shouldn’t be apologizing. I don’t even know what we’re doing here. I really should go. It’ll make everything easier.”
“Easier, maybe,” he agreed, “but I’ve never been one for the easy road.”
She wanted to know what thoughts were going through his mind right now, what game he was playing. The set of his body said he was still mad and that he clearly didn’t trust her. Most people, at this point, would be clamoring to get rid of the problem, not try to find a way to make it work, and for what? She was about to tell him again she could leave when the doorbell rang.
“Hold that thought,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”
Natalie followed him to the doorway but stopped herself from going any further. Her head ached and she needed another drink—or several—until she figured out Vincent’s plan. She realized he needed a wife to help boost his public image, but why stick with the woman who lied to him?
Maybe there’s hope for a man in your life after all.
“One can dream,” she whispered to herself and leaned against the doorway, waiting for him to come back with his decision on their next step.
Vincent opened the door and Billy strolled in. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Yes, but not what you think. We need to talk.” Vincent dragged his friend into the kitchen.
“I know that look. That’s a there’s a major problem you need your friend Billy to solve look. What happened? You decided you don’t like her after what, two hours?”
Vincent gave up on the champagne and grabbed a beer, handing another one to Billy. “Drink it, you’re going to need it.” He chugged half of it and shoved his hair out of his face. “That’s not Lana.”
Billy choked on his beer. He wiped at it dribbling down his chin as he muttered, “I’m sorry?”
“The woman I married and brought home to live with me as my wife is not Lana Jenkins,” he repeated slowly. “That woman is Natalie Jenkins, Lana’s identical twin sister.”
Billy glanced upwards as if he could see her through the floor. “They switched on you?”
“Actually, no. Well…” Vincent rubbed his cheek and shrugged. “It’s complicated. Short version, her sister was worried about her and I’ve been talking with Natalie the whole time, not Lana. Lana, it turns out, is already engaged and forgot she was on the website to begin with.”
“Uh huh,” Billy murmured, clearly not believing a word he said. “You’re going to divorce her, right?” Vincent squared his shoulders as he drank the rest of his beer. “Vinnie, come on, man. You can’t seriously be thinking of keeping her around? She lied about who she was and then you married her. You have no idea who this woman really is. What if she feeds information to the tabloids—or worse, your rivals?”
“And you think a same-day marriage and divorce will look better?” he argued.
“That I have a chance at explaining away, but this? You married the wrong twin.”
“Or the right one,” he whispered.
“I beg your pardon?”
Since Lana—Natalie—admitted who she really was, Vincent was at war with himself about what to do. He was pissed at being tricked, but when she told him he’d only talked to her and that her sister did it out of the goodness of her heart, not out of malice, Vincent believed her. Explaining why he trusted her was impossible, but he did and there was no changing that fact. The pain was clear in her eyes, as was the anger at her accident, but those weren’t the emotions that drove him to want to keep her by his side.
Over the years, his loneliness had built, though he hid it well, for the most part. The pain in Natalie’s light blue eyes was not something he was used to seeing, but he saw the loneliness in his eyes often. Lana probably saved her sister from turning into a hermit, in all honesty. No matter how it happened, Natalie landed in his life, and for the first time since his father’s death, he sensed he’d found a kindred spirit, someone he could rely on. They would get
to know each other as time passed. After all, wasn’t that what real marriage was? And if he thought for a second she would bomb his political career, he would file for a divorce without hesitation.
“I need you to find a way to fix the name on our marriage license,” Vincent finally told Billy.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, man. You realize the judge called her Lana today? You don’t think it’s going to look odd if there’s suddenly a typographical error that has to be corrected?”
Vincent set his beer bottle on the counter by the sink and grabbed a second one. “Say he’s an older man and Natalie didn’t want to embarrass the judge by correcting him. He was confused. Maybe he thought she was her sister and she was too caught up in the moment to say anything.”
“No one is going to buy that.”
“Well, I need you to make sure they do. I’m not letting this woman go easily, Billy.”
“I think I should talk to her,” he muttered.
“You are not interrogating my wife.”
“How did you even find out? Did she slip up or something?” Billy asked, still glaring out of the kitchen at the staircase.
Vincent shook his head. “She told me. We were…talking and she said she felt too guilty lying to a nice guy like me. She told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Well, the important details,” Vincent amended. “Can you change the license or not?”
Billy groaned and rested his head on the counter. “Why do you do this shit to me? There I was, thinking all these messes of yours were behind us.”
“My messes have not been that catastrophic.” He peeled the label on his beer bottle. “And one more thing?”
“Now what? You want my liver? My kidney? Want me to spy on your mother and her sex life?”
“God, no,” he snapped. “The website only ran a background check on Lana. Can you run one on Natalie—discreetly? Use your contacts at the police department?”
