Fatal Hearts

by Norah Wilson

  “C’mere.” He leaned back again and held out his arms. She went into them.

  Instead of trying to kindle desire again, he just kissed her forehead and snuggled her close. His hand resumed the stroking of her hair, but she couldn’t settle into it this time. She pulled away.

  “We should get started.”

  “We?” He went up on his elbows.

  “Yeah, we. I let Josh exclude me from his search. I don’t know whether I could have helped or not, but I could have tried, at least. I won’t let you do the same.” She got off the bed again and started pacing. “I’m plugged into the health system better than you are, and I’ll do whatever I can to help, as long as it doesn’t involve divulging personal information.”

  He got up, found his jeans, and hauled them on. Even as preoccupied as she was, she couldn’t help but admire that fine butt and broad, muscular back.

  “That would be fantastic.” He scooped up his shirt and put it on. “Maybe I’ll have another look from the legal end, although there’s precious little to work with.”

  “That’s right. The legal part was very murky, wasn’t it? That whole thing about the birth certificates not matching up with any registered births or adoption records.”

  “Murky would be a walk in the park. Unfortunately, it’s more like impenetrable blackout.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe I could track down the Fredericton lawyer’s secretary or something.”

  “The one who handled the adoption from this end?”

  “Yeah. We got his name from the Ontario lawyer who acted for my parents.”

  “Why not ask the lawyer himself? Unless . . . Oh, crap, he’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “Long dead, in fact. He perished in a fire that swept through his office one night when he’d been working late. This happened the very same year we were born. The theory was he got drunk, passed out with a lit cigarette in his hand. Of course, all his records were destroyed in the fire.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “What about the Ontario lawyer? Didn’t he have a file?”

  “Absolutely, complete with an order of adoption and consent of our birth mother, I’m sure, but even if he weren’t retired and in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s, he can’t just give that information out. You need a court order to unseal that stuff. Josh did get a court file number, but when he petitioned the court, they didn’t have corresponding records, or at least not that matched our case. Nor could the courts locate a file or record of any kind for that time frame involving twins by the name of Holbrook, our supposed surname at birth.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “You can see why Josh concluded that it was an out-and-out illegal adoption, propped up by falsified records. It’s almost like someone from this end was working right from the get-go, from the very freakin’ minute we were born, to obscure the trail.”

  She frowned. “Could it be that you were misdirected to Fredericton? Might the adoption have happened in another jurisdiction? Nova Scotia, maybe? Prince Edward Island?”

  He shook his head. “Josh checked with vital statistics in every province and territory across the country, and nothing turned up. Probably because our name wasn’t really Holbrook.”

  Oh, shit. Of course. “Speaking of vital statistics, what about other sets of identical twins born on your birthday? Have you checked into that?”

  “Not the kind of information you can easily or legally draw out of the government records. It also presumes that whoever faked the birth certificates stopped at inventing the surname. If someone was that determined to erase the trail, they probably messed with the birth date too.”

  “So if neither you nor Josh believed anything written on those birth certificates, why was Josh so convinced you were born here?”

  “The one thing he did believe was that the lawyer who died in the fire here was the one who handled the adoption. Edward Bowlin, Esquire, had a reputation as a bit of a fixer, which fit with a shady adoption deal. I’m inclined to agree.”

  “This is incredible,” she said. “I had no idea. I mean, yes, I knew there were irregularities. I knew the private adoption records couldn’t be located and unsealed, which is how most kids go about finding their birth parents. But either Josh glossed over that part or I wasn’t paying very close attention, because I had no clue it was so crazy and convoluted.”

  “I’m sure it was the former. He didn’t want people thinking our adoptive parents participated in an illegal adoption.”

  She chewed her lip a moment. “Did they?”

  “Not knowingly.” His answer came without hesitation. “The deal was handled between the lawyers, as far as Josh could tell.”

  “The deal?” She slanted him a look. “That sounds very businesslike.”

  “That’s exactly what it was, a deal. A transaction. Frank and Ella McBride had a desperate need and the means to pay, and our mother clearly had the product.”

  Hayden hoped that wasn’t the case, but she knew that adoptions like that did happen.

  “I presume your parents must have known what Josh was doing here. I mean, he’d have to explain why he’d leave a national newspaper to come work for a tiny local one?”

  “Yeah, they knew.”

  “Did they mind?”

  “Not at all. They totally supported him. Of course, they didn’t know it was probably illegal. Josh just told them there was some bureaucratic bungling involved.”

  That made sense. People were quick to believe in the incompetence of civil servants. “You seem to know quite a lot. I thought you and Josh didn’t talk about this stuff.”

  He waved a hand. “This was back in the very beginning, when he thought all it was going to take was a relatively straight-forward petition to the courts. I listened every time he ran into one of these walls. Our difference of opinion arose when it became obvious the trail had been intentionally obliterated thirty-five years ago. Once he’d decided to move to Fredericton to pursue it, I told him I wished him well. Man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. But I also made it clear I wasn’t going to be part of the search.” He went to the window, although Hayden knew there was nothing to see out there but the dull gleam of a couple of cars parked beneath the sentinel light in the staff parking lot below. “And, yes, I am well aware of the irony. If Josh could see me right now, he’d be laughing his ass off.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.” She walked up behind him and slid her arms around him. He stiffened initially, then relaxed. “He’d be cheering you on.”

  “You’re right. Well, for the investigation part anyway.” He turned to take her in his arms.

  She pulled back so she could look up at his face. “But not the having sex with me part?”

  He let her go. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  “Boyd, there’s no reason to feel guilty. None. I loved Josh dearly, but he and I were never going to end up here. We’re not betraying him.”

  “No? Then why do I feel guilty?”

  “Survivor guilt. It’s very common with twins. You probably feel guilty for enjoying a meal.”

  He frowned.

  “Or laughing spontaneously at something funny, or for experiencing a sense of peace when the sun is shining on your face, or even getting a good night’s sleep and waking up feeling good.”

  “I don’t sleep so well anymore.”

  “I’m not surprised. Sleep disturbance is pretty common with grief. Some people feel chronically under-rested and sleep all the time, and others can develop insomnia. All you can do is work through it.” She made a mental note to give him some material on sleep hygiene. There were probably a few things he could do to improve his situation.

  “I ran the same route Josh did in Odell Park. Well, a longer route. Took me a little over fifty minutes, and afterward, I was almost giddy from the e
ndorphins. And when I realized what I was feeling, I felt so shitty.”

  She pressed herself against him, and his arms came up around her, hugging her hard. She hugged him back. “That’s probably not going to go away overnight.” She leaned back in his arms. “You guys were linked from the moment of conception. You’re bound to feel the grief of his loss more intensely than anyone else, and you may feel it longer than others think is appropriate. That’s why you need to work actively on grieving, to make sure it doesn’t rob you of pleasure and happiness going forward.”

  His thumbs dug into the flesh of her upper arms, but she was sure he didn’t notice. “That’s why I have to find out what happened to him. Otherwise, I feel like I’ll be stuck here.”

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  He looked down at her, his eyes darkening. “Are you sorry?”

  “About this?”

  “Yeah, about this.”

  “I’m sorry about a lot of things, Boyd.” She laid the flats of her palms on his chest, covered now by the T-shirt he’d pulled back on. “I’m sorry—God, I’m heartsick—that Josh is gone. I’m sorry now that I didn’t drag more details out of him about his investigation. And I am so, so sorry I didn’t get a chance to say good-bye to him.” She curled her fingers into the material of the shirt. “But I am very definitely not sorry about what we just did.”

  “Good.” He folded her close again.

  She slid her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest.

  “Do you have to rush off?” he asked, his voice a rumble against her ear.

  “Not really. I’m off tomorrow. Well, unless they call me in again, but I do need to catch up on sleep. Maybe in an hour?” She leaned back in his arms to look up at his face, and the way he was looking at her made her pulse jump and her breath come faster. “I don’t want to meet Sylvia while I’m creeping out in the middle of the night or at dawn.”

  “An hour?” He threaded a hand through her hair, as though the texture of it was endlessly fascinating. “You think that’s going to be long enough?”

  Oh, boy! “Maybe two.”

  He grinned, steering her toward the bed. “That’ll have to do.”

  This time it was a more leisurely business. Between kisses, they helped each other out of their clothes, hands and eyes exploring territory that was still thrillingly new. By the time he stepped back, desire pulsed in her like a living thing. A hungry, hungry living thing.

  “God, I want to inhale you,” she breathed. “You have no freakin’ idea.”

  His eyes blazed. Then he bent and dug a condom out of the pocket of his discarded jeans and held it out to her. “Where do you want me?”

  Excitement clutched in her belly as she realized what he was really handing her. She took the condom from him with fingers that trembled slightly. “Under me.”

  He lay down on the bed and scooted to the center, pushing the pillows aside so he could lie flat. She climbed onto the mattress beside him. For a moment, she just soaked up the image of him lying there, all six-plus feet of him, one hand behind his head, the other lying on his flat belly. His erection lay hard and heavy against that belly. Her breath hitched at the idea of touching him, sheathing him, straddling him, and taking him into her.

  “Um, Hayden?”

  She blushed. “Sorry. I got so carried away thinking about what I could do, I kind of forgot to do it.”

  She swung her leg over him until she straddled his waist. Twisting her hair to one side, a hand pressed to his chest for balance, she bent forward to kiss him. His hands came up to run along the outsides of her upper arms. God, how had she never noticed how erogenous that area was?

  For long moments, they kissed, while his hands trailed fire over her back, up to her nape, then around to the sides of her breasts. At that, she groaned and sat up, giving him better access.

  “Oh, Hayden, baby, I gotta say I love the view from here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” The feel of those long, talented fingers caressing her breasts and tweaking her nipples was incredible. Watching him do it drove her arousal into overdrive.

  She wriggled, conscious of his erection, which nudged her backside. The yearning emptiness inside urged her to lift up, fit him to entrance, and take him inside, but there was the matter of the condom.

  But having been handed this gift, she was determined not to rush through it. She wanted to savor every minute.

  She bent to kiss his mouth again, then tipped his head back to kiss the side of his neck. The taste of his skin exploded on her tongue, encouraging her to slide lower. With lips, tongue, and, yes, teeth, she explored shoulders, pecs, those amazing abs. His muscles contracted beneath her, and she could feel his tension, his excitement, coiling tighter and tighter. Then she felt his hands in her hair.

  Smiling, she slid lower. His penis jerked before she could even touch it, reacting to the warmth of her breath, or maybe the tickle of her hair on his lean hip. The musky sex smell of him brought her to full arousal. She could feel herself readying for him, her sex growing slick again, internal muscles pulling her uterus up, making room to take his lovely, lovely—

  “Hayden,” he groaned. “I’m thinking now might be a good time for that condom.”

  She smiled. “Soon.”

  She circled her fingers around him and he bowed his hips off the bed. She bent and took the head of him into her mouth. He emitted a hiss that segued into a groan of delight. Spurred on by the sounds he was making, she took him more fully into her mouth, applying gentle suction. The breath that sighed out of him was about the sexiest thing she’d ever heard. Taste and smell and sound—it all combined to drive her still higher as she worked him with her hand and mouth.

  “Hayden.” The hand in her hair now urged her up. “Baby, we’d better make use of that condom, if we’re going to. Otherwise . . .”

  She rose up. “Sorry. I got a little carried away.” She tore open the packet, removed the condom, and applied it.

  “Damn, that’s sexy. Your hands, so small and soft, but so sure.”

  She smiled. “What can I say? Doctors know their way around latex. Granted, it’s usually exam gloves I’m putting on.”

  He laughed, but when she moved up his body and positioned herself over his shaft, there was no more humor in his eyes. Just need. Unable to deny herself any longer, she sank down on him until they were fully joined.

  “That feels so good.”

  The words came from Boyd, but they might have come from her. She stilled, savoring that first shock of invasion, then started to move on him. His hands went to her breasts, cupping them, squeezing, rasping his thumbs over her nipples. Oh, God! After her brave words about taking her time, this was not going to last long. Despite herself, she picked up her pace. He dropped his hands to her hips, holding her, helping her, thrusting up to meet her. Thighs trembling, she tried to hang on, tried to hold back the orgasm. Mistaking her problem, he reached between them to stimulate her with his hand. She came immediately.

  With the last tremors of ecstasy fading, she bent down and kissed him, her hair spilling around them. His arm came around her, and she found herself on her back beneath him, their bodies still joined. The demonstration of physical strength thrilled her. As did the growling sound he made deep in his throat. Then he was moving inside her, long, powerful strokes that revealed how much restraint he’d been exercising before.

  She sank her hands in his hair, loving the feel of it between her fingers. Then she moved on to his nape, his shoulders, and on down to the dip of his back and his tight butt. His breathing grew harsher, his thrusts more frenzied, until he found his own release.

  Afterward, she held him in her arms as his trembling weight rested briefly on her, and she felt a piercing sweetness fill her. Followed quickly by panic.

  She pushed at his chest.

  “Sorry.” He moved aw
ay. “Didn’t mean to crush you.”

  She hadn’t minded his weight. What she’d felt was the opposite of minding. But she let him believe it, because she didn’t want him to see her freaking out about it.

  He brushed her hair back, kissed her on the forehead, then got up to deal with the condom.

  By the time he rejoined her, she’d recovered her composure. The tenderness had taken her by surprise, that was all. She just needed to be more on guard, especially in the immediate aftermath. There was a reason they called it afterglow. Biology’s little trick to bond couples into a unit suitable for reproduction and child rearing. But she wasn’t a slave to her hormones. Knowledge was power.

  She was not going to get attached to Boyd. Her life wouldn’t allow it.

  He pulled her into his arms and they lay there for a while. Hayden let herself enjoy his stroking of her hair. She even let her hand rest on his chest where she could feel his heartbeat. But she had no intention of relaxing fully into it. This kind of intimacy would have to be rationed, treated very carefully.

  She sat up. “I should go.”

  “So soon? The hour isn’t even up, let alone the two you promised me.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she laughed.

  “I have to call my mother.”

  “Where is she?” He looked at his watch. “I’m guessing points west, if you’re going to call her this late.”

  “She’s in Nova Scotia, actually. Outside of Sydney, to be specific.” She started hauling on her clothes. Again. This time, taking time to put her underwear on. “But she’s a night owl. Now that she and Dad are both retired, she keeps much later hours.”

  “Okay, I remember now. Your mom emigrated from Haiti, and your dad was born in Cape Breton, right? And they moved there after your dad retired.” He got up and started dressing too. “It’s pretty clear you didn’t grow up there.”

  “What? Because I don’t stay stuff like, ‘G ’way wit ya,’ or call everyone ‘buddy’?”

  “Or the use of the word after in that odd way.”

  “As in, ‘I was after having a piece of that pizza’?”

  “Yeah. That. What I’d like to know, though, is how you came to sound like a regular Maritimer?”