by Lisa Rayne
“Does this Dash look that much like me?”
As if on cue, an angry, familiar male voice sounded behind her. “What’s this all about?”
Naomi jumped, dropping her hand before turning her head to see Dash glaring, not at her, but at her table companion. “Dash.”
The look on his face copied exactly the scowl she’d received from Mr. Lookalike earlier when he’d thought she was setting him up for a shakedown.
“Shit!” The unnamed stranger shot out of his chair and stared at Dash like he was seeing poltergeists.
Dash glanced at her then immediately back at his mirror image. “Who. The hell. Is he?”
The confusion on his face slashed at her heart.
The stranger offered a hand to Dash. “Tatum Gentry.”
“Tatum?” Dash ignored his hand and focused on Naomi, that perplexed look still planted on his face.
She wished she’d had more time to figure out the logistics of this matter before Dash had had to face such a life-altering discovery.
“I think he may be …” Naomi looked briefly at the man who’d identified himself as Tatum then back at Dash. “I think he’s your brother.”
Chapter 10
Dash’s mouth dropped open and his chest tightened. His heart rate accelerated then tripled when Naomi stood and swayed. Tatum reached for her at the same time he did.
“I’ve got her,” Dash said to Tatum. Easing Naomi back into the chair, Dash squatted before her. “You alright?” he asked her.
“Yeah, fine. I just stood up too quick.”
“That’s the second time in ten minutes you’ve almost fainted. That doesn’t sound like you’re alright to me,” Tatum said.
Dash studied her, worry plain on his face. “Naomi?”
She sighed. “Cut me some slack, okay. A few minutes ago I started talking to a guy I thought was you only to realize he’s your long lost twin.” She lifted the sangria and sipped. “I stood up too fast. That’s all.”
Dash grabbed the glass from her hand. “What’s this?” he asked.
“Sangria,” Tatum answered.
Dash sat the glass on the table and pushed it out of her reach. Still squatting in front of her, he placed his hands on her knees. “When’s the last time you had something to eat?”
“I’m fine, Dash. Really.” She glanced over Dash’s shoulder at Tatum. She reached for Dash’s hands and tried to remove them from her knees.
He resisted her efforts. “Answer my question,” he insisted in a stern voice.
Her right hand went up to push through her hair. “I don’t know … Breakfast. I guess.”
Checking his watch, he cursed under his breath. “It’s almost one o’clock. No wonder you’re lightheaded. Dammit, Naomi, you know better than that.” Dash stood, looking around for a member of the wait staff.
“What do you need?” Tatum asked him.
“A glass of orange juice right away and a meal with a large serving of protein.”
“I’ve got it.” Tatum walked away.
Dash sat down beside her. Placing his arm across the back of her chair, he leaned into her ear. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I needed to find the stubborn jerk I came here with. I wasted half the morning before I decided he’d simply dropped off the face of the island. Then, I went and did some additional legwork on the story we’re supposed to be working on together.”
He dropped his head and sighed. “Sorry about that. I went for a run on the beach this morning. I needed to clear my head.”
Tatum came back and placed a glass of orange juice in front of Naomi.
“Thank you,” she said to Tatum.
Taking the seat across from them, Tatum pushed the untouched glass of juice towards her with his index finger. “As much as I’m curious about what’s going on here. I’d feel better if you drink this before you do anything else.”
Dash picked up the glass and put it in her hand. “Good idea.”
“Great. It’s more than just the looks,” she mumbled.
The guys looked at each other then back at her.
She pointed at Tatum. “Bossy.” Then pointed at Dash. “Bossier.”
Tatum’s lips curved up. Dash’s lips thinned.
She lifted the glass of orange juice and downed half its contents. She sat the glass down and addressed Tatum. “You said you were adopted.”
“Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Nine months.”
“By?”
“My parents are Gerald and Caroline Gentry. My father’s a doctor and my mother’s a homemaker. I also have a younger brother and sister. Classic story. Couple struggles getting pregnant, adopts a child, and finds themselves pregnant a few months later then again after that.”
“Your brother and sister are your parents’ biological children?” she asked him.
Tatum nodded his head. “But I’ve never felt they treated us any differently. If anything, my brother and sister claim, I was the one who got special treatment.”
A wistful look came over Naomi’s face. “You were their first. No matter how much love a parent spreads around, there’s something about the first born child—however he or she comes into a family—that claims a special place in a parent’s heart.” Naomi glanced Dash’s way tentatively then cleared her throat.
Dash ignored her sentimental comment. He watched Tatum quietly, probably too wigged out by the resemblance to speak.
Naomi continued to carry the conversation. “When’s your birthday?”
“August 12th.”
Dash’s arm tensed behind her back.
“Year?”
Dash answered for him.
“Yeah,” Tatum said quietly. A waiter came and placed a plate of fish and poultry tapas in front of Tatum. He slid the plate in front of Naomi. “Eat.”
She picked up a tapa and took a bite. “Mmm. Oh wow. These are absolutely divine.” She popped the rest in her mouth and reached for another. She ate several before she realized the men were silent. She glanced up.
They both watched her. Dash had an amused look on his face.
Tatum’s look made her feel like a steak placed before a starving man. “Do you always make those sounds when you eat?” he asked her.
“What sounds?”
Tatum looked at Dash for help.
Dash grinned. “Only when she’s really enjoying something.”
Her head spun towards Dash. “What are you talking about? I don’t make any sounds when I eat.”
“Yeah, you do.” He leaned in and whispered an explanation of the erotic sounds she made.
Her face reddened. She snapped at Dash. “Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
He smiled. “Because we’re usually alone when it happens, and I really don’t mind.”
“Great. Just great.” She picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth. Hoping to turn the attention away from herself, she suggested, “Not that I have any doubt at this point gents, but would you mind sliding out your IDs.”
Dash tilted his hip to reach in his back pocket for his wallet. He removed his arm from the back of her chair and slid out his driver’s license. He placed it on the table in front of Naomi. Tatum did the same.
She picked up both cards and tipped them towards Dash. They displayed identical birthdates, heights, and only a small difference in weight. Dash’s football girth made him heavier.
Naomi looked up at Tatum. “You’re from San Diego?”
Tatum nodded. “We moved there when I started high school.” He looked at Dash. “Where are you from?”
“I grew up in Nebraska, but I currently live in the Kansas City area.”
Tatum ran a head through his hair, messing up his stylish ‘do. “I was born in Nebraska.” His voice was low, pensive.
“Yeah, I kinda figured.” Dash’s voice was tight. “Do you know the names of your birth parents?”
“Janssen. David and Mary Janssen.” Tatum replied.
> Dash jerked, surprised he knew the answer. “So, your adoptive parents told you the names of your birth parents, but didn’t tell you you had a twin?” The edge in his voice had gotten worse.
Naomi glanced at Dash’s face as if trying to read his thoughts.
Tatum frowned. “They couldn’t have known. They would have told me.”
“Sure.” Dash’s hand balled into a fist on the table as he uttered the curt response.
Naomi placed her hand over his fist. When he didn’t say anything else, she spoke for him. “Dash was raised in foster care.”
“Foster care? For how long?” Tatum asked.
“Until he aged out at eighteen,” she replied.
A muscle twitched under Tatum’s left eye, but he didn’t say anything.
The two men observed each other. The twitch under Tatum’s eye eventually settled, but his jaw held tension that should have made his teeth ache. “What kind of name is Dash?” he finally asked.
“Nickname. Real name’s Talon.”
“Talon.” Tatum ran the fingers of his left hand through his hair. “Tatum and Talon. Janssen. Twins.” Elbows on the table, he dropped his head into both hands. “Holy crap. I think I need a drink.”
Dash signaled for the waitress.
Tatum placed his order then simply stared at Dash again. “I guess I should have paid more attention to my sister.”
“Your sister?” Dash frowned.
“Yeah.” Tatum nodded. “She called me weeks ago. She’d been watching highlights of the NFL games that weekend and seen a guy she said looked just like me. I guess some play you’d made had been the NFL Play of the Week or some such.” He paused to accept his drink from the returning waitress and took a long swig.
Dash knew exactly which week and which play Tatum’s sister had seen.
“In the back of my mind, I was curious. Thought I’d check it out at some point, but never got around to it on my last trip home. In truth, I didn’t think much of it.” Tatum shrugged. “You know what they say. We all have a twin somewhere.”
“Somehow, I don’t think this is exactly what they had in mind,” Dash said.
“Probably not.” Tatum polished off his drink and motioned for another.
Naomi looked between the two. “Perhaps I should give you two some time alone.” She moved to stand.
Dash covered her wrist, trapping it on the table. “Stay.”
“Dash, I really think you and Tatum need some time to talk. Alone. And I need to lie down for a while.”
He looked at her with a suspicious eye.
She placed her hand over her heart. “Really. I promise. I’m going straight upstairs to the room and lie down.”
“You haven’t finished your food.”
“I’ll take it with me.” She picked up her plate. “I’ll get someone to put it in a container for me.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Looking at Tatum, she asked, “Did you get a check?”
“Don’t worry about it. I had them charge it to my room. I hope you feel better.”
“Thanks.” She turned and left them.
*
Tatum watched Dash’s eyes follow Naomi out of the restaurant. Dash’s gaze lingered on the exit even after she’d disappeared.
When Dash finally turned back to the table, he caught Tatum watching him closely. “What?”
“I take it there’s more going on between you two than just the story she’s writing.”
“No.” Dash picked up Naomi’s abandoned half-full glass of orange juice and downed its contents.
When he put down the glass, Tatum lifted a brow and stared at the now-empty glass purposefully. “No?”
Dash had drank from Naomi’s glass without conscious thought.
“No.” Dash met Tatum’s gaze directly.
Bull, Tatum thought and finished off the bourbon the waitress delivered in one gulp. He sat back in his chair and gave in to the wicked grin he felt coming on. “Oh, goody then. That means the beauty is single.”
The creases in his newly-found brother’s forehead gave Tatum all the intel he needed to make this call. He would have to keep his hands off the sexy lady. She and Dash had a thing going. It must not be going well at the moment, but Dash telegraphed his territorial interest like a lighthouse operator flashing a beacon through a storm.
“Actually, I don’t know.” Dash glanced towards the door again. “We were an item a while back. We only recently reconnected when she tried to track down the story behind your photo.” Dash sat back in his chair and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee. He eyed Tatum intently for a minute before he finally asked, “Aren’t you gay?”
Tatum’s grin morphed into a smirk, and he gave Dash the same brisk answer Dash had originally given him. “No.” He volunteered no additional information.
“No?”
“No. Would it matter if I was?” Tatum watched Dash’s eyes closely, but Dash’s face remained unexpressive. The question wasn’t rhetorical. Dash’s answer mattered. Tatum had no tolerance for homophobes or bigots. While Tatum himself wasn’t gay, his brother was. He’d have a challenge accepting a twin brother into his life if that twin couldn’t accept the brother he already had.
“No, it wouldn’t. But then, what’s with the photo?”
Tatum relaxed. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been directly approached by anyone. I assumed it was a setup to ruin a business deal I was trying to close with a conservative investment group.”
“A setup?”
“Yeah. A few weeks ago, I entertained a group of investment partners I’d been courting for a while to help me acquire a piece of property on the island I needed for a development project. I had the group hooked. They were all for taking advantage of the financial benefits of the large gay clientele that frequents Ibiza, but apparently, they had a problem turning over millions of dollars to and actually doing direct business with a gay man. Something I’m betting my competitor figured out and decided to use to his advantage by paying a guy to make a move on me when a journalist just happened,” he made air quotes, “to be around to snap a picture.”
“And you just happened to let a man get close enough to kiss you?” Dash gave his own smirk this time.
Tatum sighed. “It’s a little complicated.” He took another sip of his drink. “The guy was a family friend. I know him through my brother. He said he needed to talk to me about something. He seemed upset so I agreed to meet with him. He managed to catch me by surprise.”
“And your investors backed out of the deal when the photograph hit the papers?”
“Yes. Giving my competitor the opportunity to snap up the piece of property I had my eye on.”
“So, you’re a real estate developer?”
“Of sorts. I happen to invest in various business interests that catch my fancy, but real estate developments are among my favorites.”
“If the deal in Ibiza fell through, what are you doing back here?”
“I’ve got a score to settle. Michelson—my competitor—may have captured a key piece of property I needed for my intended development, but other surrounding properties are needed before he can break ground on the major hotel project he—we both—had in mind.” Tatum motioned the waitress for another drink. “I don’t like dirty pool. If I’d been bested by quicker fundraising or simply a better offer on the table, I’d have accepted his victory and walked away. Now?”
Dash nodded, listening intently.
“Now, Michelson’s going to have to fight me for every piece of property, every contractor, and every key employee he needs to make this deal work.”
“You’re going to build a competing hotel in a different spot?”
“No, I’m going to buy up the surrounding properties he needs so he can’t build on the land he just acquired. At least, not the scale of project he currently has in mind. In fact, I have a meeting,” he glanced at his watch, “in about thirty minutes. Any way you’d agree to meet me back here in a couple of hours? I’m guessin
g you’re as curious about me as I am about you.”
“That’d be a good guess.” Dash stood. “Okay.”
They agreed on a time and place to meet and shook hands before parting ways.
*
Dash headed back up to his hotel suite. He wanted to check on Naomi and make sure she’d actually gone upstairs to rest as she’d promised. She’d find it interesting that she’d been right about the motivation for publication of the now-infamous kiss photo. Someone had indeed been set up. It just hadn’t been him.
Tatum’s response to the underhanded shenanigans had been a revelation into part of his personality. Basically, don’t get mad. Get even. Dash wholeheartedly agreed with the philosophy. He’d lived by it himself a time or two.
This long lost brother of his appeared to have a ruthless streak. He could admire that. He wondered if his brother had other traits he’d admire or if the two of them would prove too different to get along. His hand clenched. The knots that had tied around his gut at his first sight of Tatum slid back into place and tightened.
A brother. He had a brother. And not just any old sibling, but a twin. He couldn’t fully wrap his mind around the notion.
When he’d stepped into the hotel bar earlier and seen Naomi sitting with another man, an inexplicable wave of jealousy had hit him … again. He’d relived the feelings he’d felt the day she’d flirted with Shave. That this particular man wore Dash’s face hadn’t made the feeling any easier to handle. He didn’t have the right to claim her anymore, but the proverbial green monster didn’t seem to care.
This trip was supposed to be about finding the culprit who’d targeted him and finding out why. He’d intended to get a little physical pleasure out of the deal, but possessiveness shouldn’t factor into the equation. He hadn’t had time to analyze the frequent twinges of jealousy that kept rearing its ugly head. When he’d noticed the guy Naomi sat with had his face, all rational—and irrational—thoughts had fled his mind. All these years he’d gone it alone, thinking he had no family, no blood. Now, he needed to factor a twin brother into the mix.
Dash rubbed at the tightness at the back of his neck and quietly slid into Naomi’s room through the adjoining suite door that this time she hadn’t bothered to lock. The room stood in darkness except for the faint glow of light around the edge of the drawn curtains. He stepped over to the bed. She slept. She’d stuffed herself deep into the covers so that only the portion of her face above her nose peeped from beneath the covers amidst a halo of loose hair.
