The Secret Twin

by Catherine Mann

  “What was their word?”

  “Words. Anchors aweigh. Which is technically two words, but you get the gist.” Stifling a grin, he imagined his aunt working the safe word into their conversation.

  A smile twitched at her lips, mesmerizing him. “That’s a strange phrase.”

  “It worked.” He enjoyed seeing her lighter hearted. He didn’t want a real relationship, not after his bitter divorce, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the banter. And she was smoking hot, to boot.

  A part of him was hoping she’d say yes to this for more than just reasons related to her family. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to her. And since he was going to be leading this company, he needed to work through the attraction to her sooner rather than later. Issues left unaddressed became distractions.

  And she was already a major distraction.

  “Okay then. What do you suggest?”

  He thought for a moment, his eyes landing on a framed painting of a home with stone figureheads worked into the architecture. “Gargoyle.”

  “Gargoyle?” She burst out laughing.

  Tension faded from her expression to be replaced by a smile that knocked the air from his lungs. Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Pulling his attention off her delicate features and back on the task at hand, he took heart in making progress with her.

  He’d been in business long enough to know when he’d closed the deal. “Do we have an agreement?”

  Her eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t fade. “Just until the next general board meeting.”

  “One month,” he said, confident now that he could win her over to extending their time together if needed. For now he’d made major progress. He was going to be able to watch over her. And if she was up to something, he would find out what.

  And he had to admit, spending time with her wouldn’t be a hardship in the least. She drew him with everything from her sexy curves to the sweep of her eyelashes when she cast a glance his way... She was definitely a distraction he needed to work out of his system.

  “So, this is just pretend?”

  “As long as you say so. And if you’re ever uncomfortable, just remember.” He winked, tapping the start button on the elevator. “Gargoyle.”

  * * *

  Even five hours later, in her new one-bedroom apartment, Breanna’s brain was still reeling from Ward’s surprise proposition. Sure, he was smart, sexy, and powerful, and while all of that drew her in, she’d been holding strong.

  Until she’d been knocked off-balance by his surprise sense of humor.

  She should have put up more of a fight. Or extracted additional tradeoffs. But she’d been unsettled by being caught in his office, and then unexpectedly seeing her family, all of which had lowered her defenses.

  Checking her emails on her phone now, she leaned against the cool counter space. The granite pressed into her skin as she skimmed her inbox to see if any of her clients needed anything. As a virtual shopper for those who were homebound or in need of help, her hours were a little inconsistent. No new emails since she’d checked an hour ago, which meant she could turn her attention back to the blueberry and raspberry muffins she was baking, needing to do something productive since she hadn’t managed to find anything useful on the flash drive yet.

  Frustration filled her. She forced herself to focus on the routine of baking. Grounding herself in the moment. Muted light filtered in through the windows, dappling the dark wood floors and small kitchen area.

  She was so grateful to have found this space for her time here in Alaska while she sifted through the rubble of her past. Her uncle’s new wife—Felicity Hunt Steele—had offered this space to sublet. Other Steele relatives had suggested Brea stay with them, but the stress of that was more than Brea could wrap her head around.

  A chirp of the kitchen timer in the shape of a plump, plucky hen snapped Brea to attention. She grabbed the gold polka-dot oven mitt from the kitchen counter and peeked into the oven. A wave of warmed-berry scent rode the air, escaping through the open oven door. Such a sweet scent. It made her stomach growl in anticipation. A memory flashed through her mind of berry picking with her siblings and parents, of her dad telling her to avoid the white berries, which were poisonous.

  She swallowed hard before the past could swamp her with too many recollections at once. The faster they came, the tougher it was to gauge which ones were real.

  A dish towel in hand, she pulled the muffins from the pan, one by one. Since she’d shed her disguise as Milla Jones and returned to Alaska last month, she’d been spending controlled amounts of time with her family. Always with others present, including her uncle’s new wife, who was a social worker.

  Felicity had even given Brea a list of therapists. Not necessarily to facilitate a reunion. But to make sure she kept a clear head and didn’t get hurt. Brea had called numbers on that list until she found a counselor she was comfortable with, one who could help her.

  She wasn’t sure if she would reconcile with her family or not, but she needed some semblance of peace with her past before she could move on with the future. She’d known that on some level when she’d come to Alaska, posing as Milla Jones.

  And how did her attraction to Ward play into that? It was a dangerous distraction. She would have to keep a close guard on her hormones around this man.

  A rapid knock caused her door to shudder, startling her. Rattling awake other memories she did her best to keep locked up in the corners of her mind.

  Her gut clenched with tension. She’d spent so many years in that minimalist, off-the-grid community, she still wasn’t used to having such a cluttered world. She walked from her kitchen, through the living area to the front door. She peered through the keyhole...and sighed with relief.

  Felicity stood with Tally Benson, Felicity’s friend and the woman who was dating Marshall Steele. These two were easy company, since they weren’t a part of her past. Brea clicked through all three locks and opened the door.

  “Hello,” Felicity said, holding up a basket full of pampering bath items—salts, a loofa and towels. She had a way of taking care of everyone, perhaps something to do with her chosen career as a social worker. “We’ve brought housewarming gifts.”

  Tally carried a wicker laundry hamper. “All natural cleaning supplies, just for you.”

  While trust was difficult, these two women were the only ones Brea had met since her return whom she felt at least partially comfortable with. Although, her relationship with Tally was still complicated. Tally’s father had been the mechanic who worked on the airplane before the crash. He’d committed suicide because of his guilt over what had happened. No one yet knew the full extent of the details of the crash, and Tally’s father had taken his secrets to the grave. But at least the man’s name offered a place to start searching for answers.

  “Thank you so much,” Brea said, touched by their kindness, and a little overwhelmed too, especially with the berry-picking memory still so fresh in her mind. “Um, please come inside.”

  Felicity hesitated. “Are you sure we’re not imposing?”

  Brea laughed softly. “Of course I’m sure, not that I would turn you away. It is your condo and you’ve been kind enough to sublease it to me for next to nothing.”

  “You’ve done me a favor,” Felicity said without hesitation. “Now I’m able to live with Conrad without this place hanging over my head unused.”

  Brea gestured for the duo to come into the apartment, appreciating the down-to-earth nature of both of these women. “The gifts are lovely. You two didn’t have to do this.”

  “Conrad sends his thanks as well for the help with my lease,” Felicity called over her shoulder as if they all didn’t already know Conrad Steele could have paid the rent for her apartment multiple times over. Felicity continued to work at the local hospital, where she’d been today, and her hair was still swept back in a French twis
t. “You can soak out the tension.”

  Tally strode past, her red ponytail swishing. Felicity had taken her under her wing not too long ago. Tally had been a housekeeper and now attended college on a scholarship to become a social worker, as well. “If you need any help, just call me.”

  Felicity set the basket on the coffee table, cellophane wrapping crinkling. “Although, for the record,” she said with a smile and an elegantly arched eyebrow, “I did leave the place spotless.”

  “You did,” Brea agreed, chewing her bottom lip. It seemed so surreal to have the two women move so effortlessly into her life. Making friends was hard for her after all she’d been through. Even though the small Canadian community had been welcoming, her adoptive parents had been guarded with others. She’d been alone, not even sure she could trust her own instincts, for a long time. Being told that her biological family was deeply corrupt. She was safer away from them. “Thank you for coming over. Both of you. Could I offer you something to drink?”

  “Well, actually—” Tally paused, unloading the cleaning supplies and stowing them under the kitchen sink “—we did have another reason for coming by.”

  Brea’s stomach knotted with nerves. Closing the front door was tough, especially when she wanted to run. “What would that be?”

  Felicity pinned her with a knowing gaze. “When did you start dating Ward Benally?”

  Brea exhaled with relief that they weren’t going to grill her about her past. Only to have her nerves return with a vengeance over the mention of her fake boyfriend.

  Her very sexy, surprisingly charming fake boyfriend.

  She really wasn’t ready for fielding questions about Ward.

  “The relationship started very recently.” Very. Very. Recently.

  “Well, I’m not surprised at all.” Tally pulled out a barstool from behind the counter and sat, her boot heels resting on the lowest rung. “I noticed the chemistry between the two of you at the fund-raiser last month.”

  Had it been obvious even then? Brea had felt the sparks, but she’d liked to think she’d hidden her reaction. Apparently not.

  Felicity leaned over to look at the baked goods. “Was that when it started, at the fund-raiser?”

  Brea hmmed, taking a bite to fill her mouth and avoid talking. Too bad no one was around who could help if she shouted gargoyle. “Anyone want a muffin?”

  Tally pulled napkins from a counter holder. “Yes, please. Although I do hear you trying to change the subject. I imagine you’re wondering how much you can trust the two of us.”

  True, but not the sort of thing Brea expected to hear voiced aloud.

  “Although—” Felicity broke a muffin in half, then pinched off a bite “—that’s an unwinnable proposition, since no matter what we say, there’s really no way to prove you can trust us at this point. Trust takes time.”

  How long? Brea wished she knew. “Spoken like a counselor.”

  “Because I am one.” Felicity swept up a crumb into her hand and then into the sink. “For what it’s worth, Tally and I are both new to the Steele family realm. As such, we weren’t a part of the old days, the old problems and whatever happened then. But we’re here for you now and want to be your friends, as well as family.”

  Brea wanted to believe that. “I’m still getting to know everyone again.”

  “Give it time.” Felicity squeezed her hand.

  Tally scrunched her freckled nose, grinning. “And while you’re giving it time, tell us... Does Ward kiss as incredibly as it seems he would?”

  Brea felt the heat steal up to her face. That particular topic was occupying far more of her thoughts than it should. Her cell phone dinged with an incoming text and Brea embraced the excuse to step away from the intense conversation. She wanted—needed—a chance to regain her footing. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to check that.”

  She raced to scoop her phone off the coffee table and turned her back on the two women, who seemed content to snack on their muffins. She thumbed the text open to find...

  A message from Ward.

  Butterflies launched inside her. She shouldn’t feel this excited, but she did. And she couldn’t afford to be distracted by hormones, not when she finally had a real chance at the answers she craved.

  Then she read his message, and it was as if the floor fell away beneath her feet.

  I’ll be by at seven to pick you up for supper with the Steeles. Be ready to help me make nice with all your family members on the board.

  So much for keeping a lock on her emotions. Her body was already on fire at just the thought of seeing him again.

  * * *

  Ward knew he was pushing it with the impromptu dinner out with the Steeles. But he’d wanted to see Brea, and this was the fastest, easiest way to lock that down. He didn’t want to think overlong about how damn much he looked forward to seeing her. Better to keep it simple. This was a short-term thing between them. He was married to his work.

  So he could just enjoy the moment, and yes, this potential for a fling. By the time she figured out he had set up the get-together, it would be too late. She would already be sitting at the table.

  Would she be mad?

  Almost certainly.

  Was she sexy when riled up?

  Absolutely.

  He’d been surprised by how much he wanted to see her again. How his intentions had shifted so quickly from wanting to keep an eye on her to wanting to follow through on their attraction. Now he saw that his dating idea had no doubt sprung from the heat that flared whenever they were near each other. But if that played out into a fling, he could handle it. His emotions were locked down tight after the number his ex had pulled on him.

  He guided his SUV through the night, headlights striping bands of illumination into the snowy air ahead, Brea in the passenger seat, quiet since he’d picked her up. Likely there were other ways to keep watch over her, but this was far more...entertaining.

  Snowflakes sprinkled down, glinting in the beams. Brea looked stunning sitting beside him in a royal-blue wool coat and black leather boots. Her hair was draped over one shoulder in an appealing onyx waterfall. She sat so still and regal, he would have thought her unaffected by this evening together if not for the way she picked at her short fingernails.

  Low music played from the speakers, his playlist of classical guitar music.

  Brea sighed heavily.

  He stifled a grin. “You seem angry, my dear.”

  “My dear?” She turned in her seat toward him, the dash lights casting her face in seductive shadows. “Are you serious? No one’s watching us.”

  “But you are my dear, new girlfriend.” Flicking his eyes from the road, he met her eyes.

  “Fake girlfriend. And since no one’s around, let’s make some ground rules.”

  “Such as?” He gripped the leather steering wheel as he accelerated. The sound of the exhaust mingled with the few other trucks on the road.

  “You could start telling me about these plans of yours—the whole dating thing and going to the family dinner—earlier than a few minutes ahead of time.”

  He didn’t bother noting that he’d given her a few hours to prepare. He got her point. “If I had given you too much advance notice, would you have come along?”

  “You’ll never know, will you? You didn’t give me the chance to decide.” She crossed her arms, head turning away from him to look out the window at the snow lightly falling from the sky.

  “I do know,” he retorted without hesitation. Then felt the need to own up to planning this. His gut served him well in business. He would think of this arrangement with her like business. “If I’d made the reservations for later in the week, you would have come up with excuses.”

  “That’s my right.”

  “Yes, it is.” SUV idling at a stoplight, he waited, knowing she would come to the obvio
us conclusion.

  “All right, but if I decline, then I don’t get the inside scoop on my family. Fine.” She huffed in exasperation. “So how about from now on, you give me the opportunity to say yes or no and see what happens.”

  “Fair enough. I will take that under consideration.”

  Mouth twitching into a satisfied smile, he approached the one-story brown cottage, which had been turned into a restaurant, more eager for her approval than he wanted to admit.

  The historic brown building with cream trim seemed bright against the gray backdrop of February skies. Guiding the SUV into the parking lot, he readied himself for this next encounter.

  A favorite place of his. Simple from the outside, like a small home, but the restaurant boasted top-notch Alaskan seafood cuisine, the menu changing weekly. With only a dozen tables, it offered an intimate setting. He’d booked the place for the entire night to avoid prying eyes as they became comfortable with other.

  He passed the keys to the valet and joined Brea under the covered walk leading to the front door. He clasped her elbow to make sure she didn’t slip, even though the path had been shoveled and salted. The simple touch launched a wave of heat through him. Her quiet gasp told him she wasn’t immune either. The pace of her breathing increased, puffing tiny clouds of air into the night.

  He paused outside the door, turning to face her, her eyes locking with his. He lifted a curl of her hair and stroked the length of it, testing the silky texture between his fingers. Her eyes went wide with awareness. He understood the draw well.

  More than this ruse, than her family, it was that draw that had brought them both here tonight.

  The door swung wide, a host greeting them with a smile as the warmth gusted out. “Welcome to Chez Louis, Mr. Benally. Most of your party has arrived. They’re enjoying drinks in the lounge. Ma’am, if I could take your coat?”

  The small crowd of Steeles and Mikkelsons already filled the dining area, most of them standing beneath vintage antler chandeliers. Conversation wafted over in murmurs.