The Twin Switch (Millionaires Legacy Book 13; Gambling Men)

by Barbara Dunlop

  “I think Nat really wants to see exotic dancers,” Sophie said to me.

  I refocused my attention on Sophie. “No way.”

  Nat was the most straitlaced of the four of us. She was James, only in female form. She was literally a librarian.

  “I think she might be ready to burst out of that shell.”

  “That would be entertaining,” I said, thinking it really would.

  Nat’s long-term boyfriend had split with her a few months back. I knew she hadn’t dated anyone since. I also knew Henry had been hard on her self-esteem.

  Sure, Nat wore glasses. But they were cute glasses, and she had the sweetest spray of freckles across her cheeks. Her brown hair might not be the most exotic of shades, and she wasn’t glam like Brooklyn, but she had the most beautiful smile that lit up her pale blue eyes.

  “She’s chatting up a guy right now.” Sophie inclined her head.

  I turned to surreptitiously follow Sophie’s gaze.

  Sure enough, Nat was at a corner table, head leaned in talking to a guy in a nicely cut suit jacket and an open-collared white shirt. He looked urbane attractive, but more fine-featured than appealed to me. But then I wasn’t Nat.

  Something banged above us.

  I reflexively ducked as my adrenaline surged.

  The room suddenly turned black, garnering audible gasps and a few high-pitched shrieks from the crowd.

  It went quiet.

  “Whoa.” I blinked to focus.

  “What was that?” Sophie asked into the darkness.

  “Something broke.”

  “It sure did.”

  My eyes adjusted, and I could see the candles now, little dots of light on the tables illuminating the faces closest to them. They reflected off the windows. Beyond, across the bay, I could see the lights of ships and sailboats in the distance.

  “Nothing but a power failure, folks.” It was the bartender’s hearty voice. “It happens sometimes. Please sit tight and enjoy the ambience. I’m sure the lights will come back on soon.”

  “At least we’re not waiting on our drinks,” Sophie said, lifting her glass to take another sip.

  “I wonder if Brooklyn will be able to find us.” I looked around, but I couldn’t see much of anything beyond the candlelight.

  “Hey, guys.” Nat appeared and hopped up on the stool next to Sophie.

  “What happened to your man?” Sophie asked.

  “When the lights went out, he squealed like a little girl.”

  “That’s disappointing,” I said.

  Sometimes I wondered if there were any good men left in the world. I had a list of qualities. I mean, it wasn’t a long list, mostly to do with integrity and temperament. But squealing like a little girl was definitely not on it.

  “So not the type to rescue you from a bear,” Sophie said to Nat. She sounded disappointed.

  There was laughter in Nat’s voice. “Who needs rescuing from a bear?”

  “I might go camping,” Sophie said.

  “You?” Nat asked.

  Five-star restaurant manager, downtown high-rise-dwelling Sophie was definitely not the outdoor type.

  “Well, maybe you,” Sophie said.

  Nat had been known to spend time outside—at least in her rooftop garden.

  “Then that’s definitely not my guy.” Nat took a two-second gaze back over her shoulder.

  I realized then, that after a mere five minutes I’d wondered if Nat’s guy would be the guy. It could have been a really romantic story—Nat meeting the love of her life while spending a girls’ weekend in San Francisco celebrating Brooklyn’s wedding.

  We were all single. Well, Brooklyn wouldn’t be single for long. But Sophie, Nat and me hadn’t had a lot of luck meeting men.

  Good guys were hard to find. I could list the flaws in each of my dates from the past six months: too loud, too nerdy, too intellectual, too moody.

  I knew how it sounded. And I realized perfectly well what I was doing with that list. If I focused on the guys, I didn’t have to explore the possibility that it was me—which, of course, deep down, I knew it was.

  I’d love to live in denial. And I would if I could figure out a way that I didn’t know denial was denial.

  So far, I hadn’t been able to make that work.

  “Where’s Brooklyn?” Nat asked.

  “Ladies’ room,” I said.

  Sophie craned her neck to gaze across the dim room. “She should be back by now. I hope she’s not stuck in an elevator.”

  “I’m going to go look for her.” I slid off my bar stool.

  “You’ll get lost, too,” Nat said. “Or you’ll trip and break your ankle.”

  I remembered my black-and-gold sling-back stilettos. They were stylish, but not the most stable footwear in my closet. Nat made a good point.

  Instead, I retrieved my phone from my purse and shot Brooklyn a text.

  I climbed back up and took a sip of my drink.

  We all stared at my phone for a few minutes, but Brooklyn didn’t text back.

  “Stuck on an elevator,” Nat said in conclusion.

  “Or in an ambulance,” Sophie said. “I bet she was rushing to get back to us in the dark, and it all went bad.”

  “Don’t even joke about that,” I said. “There are five hundred people coming to her wedding.”

  “And it’s a long way up the aisle at St. Fidelis’s,” Nat said. “What if she broke her leg?”

  “She didn’t break her leg,” I said and then realized I was tempting fate. “I mean, I hope she didn’t break her leg.”

  Brooklyn with a broken leg would be an unmitigated disaster.

  * * *

  It was thirty minutes before the lights came on. When they did, conversation around us spiked for a moment, and there was a smattering of applause.

  The bartender went back to work, and the waitresses began circulating around the room. Brooklyn still hadn’t returned from the ladies’ room, and I looked at the lobby entrance, trying to spot her.

  “There she is,” Sophie said.

  “Where?” I asked, disappointed in my powers of observation.

  “Left side of the lobby. Talking to a guy.”

  I leaned in for a better angle, but I still couldn’t see her.

  “It looks like she got more support from random men than I did,” Nat said.

  “He’s hot,” Sophie said.

  I got down from the bar stool so I could see more of the lobby.

  “Whoa,” both Sophie and Nat said in unison.

  “What?”

  I saw a broad hand on Brooklyn’s shoulder, and I could almost feel the touch myself. The rest of the man was blocked from view by the lounge wall.

  She smiled, and then the hand disappeared.

  I surged forward, but whoever he was walked away too fast.

  “Seriously?” Sophie said. “The three of us are all single, and she ends up with him in the blackout?”

  “Fate is cruel,” Nat said.

  “What did he look like?” I asked.

  “Hot,” Sophie said.

  “Tall,” Nat said.

  “Tall and hot,” Sophie said.

  “Thanks for that specific detail,” I said.

  Brooklyn was coming toward us.

  “Who was that?” Nat called to her.

  “Can I meet him?” Sophie asked.

  “You don’t get to call dibs,” Nat said.

  “Dibs,” Sophie said.

  Brooklyn was smiling and shaking her head as she drew closer. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was an odd brightness to her eyes.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “The power went off,” she said.

  “Did you get his name?” Sophie asked.

  Broo
klyn shook her head. “Can’t help you with that.”

  “He squeezed your shoulder,” I said.

  From my vantage point, the touch seemed intimate. That tanned, strong hand squeezing down on Brooklyn’s shoulder had sent a shiver up my own spine.

  I tried to imagine how James would feel about someone touching Brooklyn that way. He wouldn’t like it. Of that, I was sure.

  “He was saying goodbye,” Brooklyn said.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sophie asked me.

  “Who squeezes a strange woman’s shoulder?” I asked.

  “Who doesn’t?” Sophie returned.

  “It’s not like he kissed me,” Brooklyn said.

  For some reason, her words didn’t make me feel any better.

  “He can kiss me,” Sophie said.

  It suddenly occurred to me that Brooklyn might already know the man. That would explain the touch.

  But if that was true, why wasn’t she saying so? Was the guy an old boyfriend? Not that she could have an old boyfriend without me knowing. It was impossible.

  “We’re going to be late for our dinner reservation,” Nat said.

  “Was my drink ever served?” Brooklyn asked.

  “I think it got lost in the excitement,” Sophie said.

  As if on cue, the bartender arrived. “I think you’ll like this one. I call it an icy wave.”

  The drink was in a tall glass, blue green in color, with lots of crushed ice and a strawberry garnish.

  “Thank you,” Brooklyn said to him.

  He waited while she took a sip.

  I waited impatiently to ask her another question.

  “It’s good,” she said.

  The bartender beamed.

  Before I could speak up, shaggy-neat-hair guy walked back into the lounge. The sight of him sent a jolt of electricity across my chest. I sucked in a breath.

  He seemed to hear me, or maybe he just felt me staring, because he turned, and we locked gazes. This time there was no mistaking it.

  His mouth crooked into a half smile. I couldn’t tell if he was greeting me or mocking me. It could be that my lust was obvious to him even at this distance.

  No, not lust, I told myself. Lust made my reaction sound salacious.

  This was interest, no more, no less. And there was nothing wrong with being interested in a good-looking guy across the bar.

  “We have a reservation in the Moonside Room,” Nat said, interrupting my musings.

  I forced myself to break the gaze.

  And I was absurdly proud of breaking off the look first this time. I found myself smiling in satisfaction. I had to resist the urge to check shaggy-neat-hair guy’s reaction to my shift in attention.

  “I can have your drink brought up to the restaurant for you,” the bartender said to Brooklyn.

  No mention of my drink, or Sophie’s. But then that was the way of the world.

  “Thank you so much.” Brooklyn flashed her friendly blue eyes.

  “Not a problem.”

  I could tell the bartender thought he had a shot—despite the big diamond ring on Brooklyn’s left hand. She had a knack for that—for doing nothing in a way that ever so subtly led men on.

  Sophie was very pretty. Nat was girl-next-door cute. But none of us could hold a candle to Brooklyn’s allure. Men tripped over their own feet when she was in the room. She invariably got us great tables and great service from earnest waiters and maître d’s.

  Mostly I just took the perks without bothering to be jealous of Brooklyn.

  “Through the lobby?” she asked the bartender.

  “Straight across to the gold elevator. It will take you to the fifty-eighth floor. Mandy can show you.” He beckoned one of the waitresses.

  “Just in case we can’t read the sign,” Nat whispered to me.

  “Just in case he misunderstood the diamond ring,” I whispered back.

  “Men have no consciences.”

  “Luckily for James, Brooklyn does.”

  My best friend, and an only child with two distant, busy parents, Brooklyn had spent countless weekends and holidays with my big extended family. She’d had a crush on James since we were old enough to know what a crush was. He’d finally invited her to the junior prom, and there’d been no going back.

  Their relationship made such perfect sense for everyone, including me. I’d been testing the term sister-in-law inside my head for months now. I couldn’t wait to use it in real life.

  As we walked to the elevator, I looked around for shaggy-neat-hair guy.

  He wasn’t in the bar, and he wasn’t in the lobby.

  Ah, well. There was always tomorrow.

  The sauna and spa lounge were coed. He could be a spa guy.

  Or maybe I’d check out the exercise room. He definitely looked like the weight-training type. And I could see him on an elliptical machine...or rowing.

  I could definitely picture him rowing.

  Two

  I wasn’t a morning person at the best of times.

  It was doubly hard to wake up with the daylight filtered by an opaque blind, the air in the room cool on my face and cozy in a bed that was softer than a cloud.

  Reluctantly giving up my state of sleep, I reached for the last wispy threads of my dream. There’d been a blue-eyed man on a surfboard off the beach of a tropical island. A dog was playing in the sand while the palm-frond room of a nearby hut rustled in the floral breeze.

  I’d felt safe and warm inside the hut, but I couldn’t remember why. I struggled to find the details, but the synaptic connections evaporated, locking me out of my subconscious.

  It was morning.

  I opened my eyes to see the bathroom light on, the door partially closed.

  I listened, hoping Brooklyn would be done soon so I could take a turn.

  I looked to the bedside clock and found it was nearly nine.

  I’d slept a long time.

  I was hungry.

  As I waited for Brooklyn, I weighted the cost-benefit of eggs Benedict. It was my all-time favorite breakfast. But the béarnaise sauce meant extra crunches next week and maybe some extra laps in the pool.

  My bridesmaid dress was exactly the right size, and too much indulgence this weekend would blow the lines. A custom-fit dress deserved the flattest stomach I could muster.

  Still, one breakfast of eggs Benedict—how much would that hurt?

  “Brooklyn?” I called out. “Are you almost done?”

  My bladder capacity wasn’t unlimited.

  She didn’t answer, and I got up out of bed.

  We’d come back to the room together after dinner last night.

  While we ate, she’d been alternately chipper and chatty, and then suddenly lost in thought. She was the first of my close friends to get married, so I couldn’t tell if this was normal. It could easily be normal, but something seemed off.

  I’d planned to talk to her once we got in bed. There was nothing like girl talk in the dark to get to the heart of a matter.

  But I’d gone out like a light while she was still in the bathroom.

  Now, I found it empty.

  I was both surprised and relieved. I wouldn’t have to wait any longer, but I did wonder why she didn’t wake me up for breakfast.

  I hoped they all hadn’t eaten without me. I’d be more willing to dive into a plate of eggs Benedict if I had coconspirators in the indulgence. Hey, if the bride was going all out, I wasn’t going to be a wet blanket.

  I changed quickly, ignoring my makeup bag, and threw my hair into a ponytail. I climbed into a pair of jeans and a casual blue blouse along with a pair of ankle boots and some earrings. I was good enough for breakfast.

  I headed for the Sunriser dining room on the main floor.

  There I found Sophie and N
at. Like me, they’d decided it was a day to go for it with plates of gooey Belgian waffles and steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

  “Where’s Brooklyn?” I asked as I sat down on a cushioned seat at the table for four.

  The room was West Coast elegant, with gleaming wood beams soaring above us and a high wall of windows looking onto the bay. Sunlight streamed in across leafy plants and navy-colored tablecloths, glinting off the glassware and silver.

  “We thought she was with you,” Sophie said.

  “She wasn’t in the room when I woke up.”

  The waitress offered me coffee, and I gratefully accepted, finding the cream in a little silver pitcher in the middle of the table.

  “Did you check the spa?” Nat asked.

  “No. Don’t you think it’s too early?”

  “She’s probably working out,” Nat said. “Her wedding dress doesn’t leave any room for error.”

  I found myself rethinking my eggs Benedict.

  Nat cut into her waffle, releasing a wave of the delicious aroma.

  “Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked me.

  “Eggs Benedict,” my mouth said before my brain could mount a decent argument against it.

  Once made, I was happy with the decision. I could work out at the hotel gym sometime today. It was going to be worth it.

  “The woman has willpower,” Sophie said of Brooklyn.

  I smiled at that as I sipped my sweetened coffee. It was true.

  Thanks to Brooklyn’s insistence, we swam to the far floater and back every time we drank a milkshake at the Lake Washington Beach. I didn’t gain an ounce over summer breaks. To this day, I used swimming to stay in shape.

  I should thank her for that.

  I’d have plenty of time in the future.

  She and James were shopping for houses in Wallingford. The area was close to my apartment in Fremont. After the wedding, we’d be able to see each other even more often than we did now.

  While I waited for my breakfast, I shot her a text.

  “At least we know she’s not stuck in an elevator this time,” Nat said.

  “Are we shopping this morning?” Sophie asked.

  “Do you need something?” I glanced at my phone, but there was no symbol to indicate Brooklyn was answering.