Twin Scandals

by Fiona Brand

  Since time was of the essence, Sophie smiled at the assistant, a young well-dressed man who seemed pleasant enough until she indicated that she wanted to try the earrings on. Infuriatingly, he glanced at Ben, as if his approval was required before he would open the cabinet. Ben compounded the issue by nodding his head.

  The sales associate, whose name was Henley according to his name tag, took the earrings out of the cabinet and placed them on a bed of lush black velvet on the counter, where they glittered in all of their showgirl splendor. Suddenly hating the whole idea of Ben buying the lushly beautiful earrings, which were too big and too garish, and not for her, Sophie nevertheless slipped the turquoise chandeliers she was already wearing out of her lobes and fitted the diamond-and-pearl earrings.

  She could hardly bring herself to glance at her reflection in the mirror on the counter. In any case, with her sunglasses on, it was difficult to make out details, for which she was glad, because all she wanted to do was rip the earrings out and return them to Henley.

  Before she could do that, Ben reached over and lifted the sunglasses off the bridge of her nose. “You’ll see better without these.”

  Feeling suddenly naked and exposed, Sophie found herself caught in the net of Ben’s gaze. Tension gripped her. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. Physically, her disguise was perfect.

  Ben frowned. “Maybe you should try on something else.”

  Before she could protest, he directed Henley to open an adjoining cabinet. He pointed at a classic pair of diamond studs that occupied their own piece of plush black velvet real estate, and that didn’t have a price tag.

  Henley looked startled, which confirmed that the price was astronomical.

  Feeling more and more miserable by the second, Sophie removed the showgirl earrings and fixed the diamond studs to her lobes. Each pear-shaped diamond was large and distractingly gorgeously beautiful, with a quiet, glimmering fire that she completely adored, even while she had to hate them because Ben wasn’t buying them for her: he was buying them for Francesca. According to the salesman, the stones were flawless, which meant they were extremely expensive.

  She shook her head. “They’re beautiful, but—”

  “We’ll take them.”

  Sophie froze. Crazily, she found herself fixating on the way Ben had said “we” as if they were a couple. Then a fiery spurt of anger banished the weakening moment.

  They were so not a couple, and never had been during all the time she had thought he was attracted to her. He had never once given her a gift, unless she counted the roses he’d had delivered to her suite, and she most definitely did not count them. They had been a cheap, cowardly way of fobbing her off after yet another convenient night of casual, meaningless sex. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said flatly. “You were right, we don’t need the earrings and, more to the point, I don’t want them.”

  But Henley had already run Ben’s platinum card through the machine and was in the process of handing it back to him. Ben dropped the small leather case that went with the diamond earrings, and which now contained her cheap turquoise earrings, in her tote.

  His hand cupped her elbow, sending an electrical tingle through her as he steered her toward the door. “The earrings are yours.”

  The hurt she had felt when Ben had been aroused by the hug escalated. She stared at Ben’s tough jaw, his cool blue eyes fringed by dark lashes, the intriguing nick on his cheekbone, but before she could say anything they were out of the store and stepping into a high-speed elevator with a group of Japanese businessmen.

  Minutes later, she stepped out on a rooftop and saw the helicopter. Up until that moment she had been so busy focusing on Ben and the charade, she hadn’t thought closely about the helicopter ride. One of the differences between her and Francesca was that Francesca adored flying and Sophie hated it.

  She didn’t know why. Francesca maintained it was because she was a control freak, and she had zero control over how an aircraft stayed up in the sky. Whatever. Since her accident, the most harrowing part of which had been the helicopter ride to the hospital, the phobia had gotten worse.

  Mouth dry, heart pounding too fast, she climbed into the seat Ben indicated. Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on fastening the safety belt. When Ben swung into the pilot’s seat, she realized that he was the pilot, which made sense since it was such a short hop and they would be on the island for several hours.

  Still feeling tense and faintly sick, she fitted the headset he gave her.

  Ben glanced at her as he flicked switches and started the engine. His voice came through the headset, unnaturally loud. “Are you all right? You’ve gone white as a sheet.”

  She stared straight ahead, which was a bad idea, because the helicopter was small, little more than a plastic bubble with a tail and rotors, and she was staring over the edge of the Atraeus building at a sheer drop to the street. She didn’t know if, during the time Ben had worked with Nick, her brother had ever mentioned her fear of flying, but right now she didn’t care. “I hate flying.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me. I flew choppers during my time in the military, so I’ve got a lot of hours. You need to put your phone on flight mode.”

  She drew in another lungful of air and concentrated on switching her phone over. As she did so, it occurred to her that if Ben had flown combat helicopters that meant he had flown under all sorts of adverse conditions, including at night. A small hop to Sail Fish Key would barely register. She was so distracted by the notion that she almost missed takeoff.

  Ben began pointing out landmarks along the coast, the low timbre of his voice oddly soothing. She realized he was doing it to keep her mind off the fact that the helicopter was skimming out to sea, and the tactic was working. She wasn’t loving being up so high, but her heart had stopped pounding. It occurred to her that she hadn’t been able to trust Ben for a relationship, but she trusted him to fly safe.

  * * *

  Lunch was served on a huge patio overlooking the water. Sophie ate canapés, sipped iced water and chatted with a number of people, most of whom she knew through Nick. But only part of her brain was engaged with social niceties.

  Apart from the first ten minutes or so after their arrival, when Buffy Holt had managed to practically glue herself to Ben’s side, so far Ben had spent most of his time closeted in the resort office talking figures with his business manager, Hannah, Malcom Holt and a couple of other men Sophie recognized as subcontractors. Apparently, they were holding the meeting now instead of after lunch because a summer storm was brewing, evidenced by dark clouds on the horizon. That also meant the party would have to be cut short.

  Meantime, a string quartet was playing and the champagne was circulating. Included on the guest list were a number of rich and connected socialites, and the gorgeous wives and daughters of a number of Ben’s business associates. There was also a media presence, which she hadn’t expected. Buffy Holt, who was dressed in a pale blue pantsuit that highlighted her golden tan, had spent most of the party chatting with various media personalities and posing for photographs. She was presently with a woman Sophie recognized as the editor of a high-end lifestyle magazine.

  Ben strolled out onto the patio and, despite wanting to stay cool and a little distant, Sophie locked gazes with him. As he started toward her, her heart sped up. Dragging her gaze free, she swallowed another mouthful of water and tried to ignore the hum of connection that had been her downfall all along.

  The next time she looked at Ben, Buffy had both her arms around his neck and was doing a great impression of a clinging vine. The fiction that Buffy was being pressured by her father to go after Ben died. From where she was standing Buffy looked like the online version of herself as portrayed on her social media pages. Pretty, rich, entitled. Never heard the word no.

  But all of that was mere detail. If Buffy had been Ben’s date for the day,
then she would be allowed to touch Ben. The problem was, Sophie was his date, and Buffy was trespassing.

  Setting her glass down on the nearest table with a sharp click, Sophie started toward Ben and Buffy. A little dimly she noted that she was overreacting but suddenly she was over the charade. Clearly Buffy hadn’t gotten the message that whatever she had shared with Ben was over, and now it was someone else’s turn.

  By the time she reached Ben, he had disentangled himself, but impervious as ever, Buffy didn’t take the hint and move away.

  Sophie kept a smooth, cool smile on her face as she strolled up to Ben and slipped her arm around his waist.

  Ben gathered her in against his side in a possessive move that sent a small thrill down her spine. Another neat move and she found herself turned fully into his arms. Her palms ended up on his chest, preserving a small amount of distance between them, but she could feel the heat of his skin burning through the thin linen of his shirt, the steady thud of his heart. She stared at his jaw and tried not to remember what it had felt like to be kissed by Ben. “You should have worn the fake tattoo.”

  A glint of humor surfaced in his gaze. “And gotten the fluffy toy.”

  She blinked, still too annoyed to be amused. “Don’t let her do that again.”

  Ben’s gaze dropped to her mouth. “Or what?”

  She drew a swift breath. “This.” Lifting up on her toes, she cupped his face and kissed him on the mouth. She felt his brief tension, then his mouth softened and he pulled her close. Distantly, she heard shutters clicking as photos were snapped.

  Her phone rang, breaking the spell. Ben’s hold loosened and she released herself completely and slipped her phone out of her back pocket. It was Francesca. Turning and stepping away so Ben wouldn’t hear, she answered the call.

  “I think he knows you’re not me.”

  Sophie froze. “How?”

  “What time did you get to the Atraeus Mall?”

  Sophie took another step away and stared out over the terrace at the sea. “Around twenty past eleven.”

  “That’s around the time he first called. But he rang once more after that.”

  While she had been with him. “And my phone didn’t ring.”

  There was a brief silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, but I’ve only just figured out why he would have rung twice like that.”

  Somehow, when he had seen her he had known, and the call was a confirmation. The breeze got up, whipping Sophie’s hair around her face.

  “Sophie, if you weren’t answering the phone and he knew it was you all along, why did he continue with the date?”

  The word that came to mind was practicality. He wanted to pick up where they’d left off the day before, and deal with Buffy’s harassment. It was called killing two birds with one stone.

  When Sophie hung up she found herself back at the table where she had left her glass of water. It had to be providence, because, peripherally, she was aware of Ben strolling toward her.

  His gaze glittered into hers as he came to a halt beside her. “Babe—”

  “Don’t you mean Sophie?” Her fingers closed around the glass.

  This time she wasn’t quite so scientific about chucking the water. Most of it splashed harmlessly over his shoulder and onto the patio, but a fair amount hit his chest. Placing the glass on the table, she turned on her heel and threaded through a group of guests. One of them, she was embarrassed to see, was Hannah, Ben’s business manager. She was also aware of a couple of media hounds who were tracking her with their phones, which were no doubt set on video.

  Maybe walking out on Ben wasn’t the smartest thing, because she was aware that he was right behind her, but if she was going to embarrass herself further, she would rather it was in private. She found the patio steps and made it down to the vast pool area, which was thankfully empty. Increasing her pace, she passed a newly planted garden, thick with palms and subtropical plants, and jogged down a set of steps to a white sand beach that was strewn with driftwood and seaweed. Taking her shoes off, she tossed them onto the ground and walked down to where the sand was hard packed, courtesy of the waves gliding smoothly back and forth.

  Ben fell into step beside her as she strolled farther down the beach, but he didn’t make the mistake of trying to touch her. The wind whipped her hair around her face. She sliced him a detached glance. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”

  “Because I wanted you with me. If you had known I’d seen through the disguise, you would have walked.”

  She stopped in her tracks. There was a definite relief in knowing that Ben had always known it was her, because it meant that everything that had happened had been for her; his arousal, the diamond earrings.

  She had wanted to throw the earrings into the sea, but now that she knew he had always meant them for her, they were precious and she wouldn’t part with them. “Would it have been so bad if I’d walked?”

  “I knew if you walked, I wouldn’t get you back.”

  She frowned. “Then why didn’t you just ask me to be your date, instead of Francesca?”

  “I was trying to avoid what happened just now.”

  A scene. But that wasn’t all, because if Ben had only confided in her, she would have handled things so much more smoothly. And suddenly the reason Ben had asked Francesca and not her was crystal clear. “You needed some time.”

  He caught her hands, drawing her close. “You have to know that if we’re in an actual relationship, that means marriage.”

  Ben talking about marriage, as if it was a real possibility, somehow took the sting out of the fact that he had to think about it. She couldn’t help loving that he was considering her in that way since it meant that he truly did value her, but the other half of her was offended that, after two-and-a-half years, he still had to weigh things in the balance.

  But when it came to Ben, it was always terrifyingly difficult to think logically. And the reason for her lack of objectivity was suddenly blindingly clear.

  She had never been just fatally attracted to Ben: she had fallen in love with him.

  That was why she had slept with him in the first place, and why she hadn’t been able to forget him or move on. That was why she had forgiven him and slept with him again.

  She stared at the strong line of his profile, the faintly battered nose and mouthwatering cheekbones. His gaze locked with hers for an uncomplicated moment and out of the blue emotions swamped her, making her heart squeeze tight.

  Ben’s gaze rested on her mouth. “I’m sorry that I hurt you; dealing with emotion has never been my strong point. Can we start again?”

  “What do you mean by ‘start again’?”

  “A relationship.”

  Her heart began to pound. They were talking relationships and marriage. A year ago, just a few days ago, she would have been over the moon. Now she wasn’t quite sure what she felt. All she knew was that she couldn’t say no. “Okay.”

  Abruptly Ben swung her into his arms and the surprise of it made her laugh. She was suddenly caught on a crazy, giddy high because, against all the odds, she and Ben were together. She wound her arms around his neck and hung on as he carried her up the beach. He set her down in a grassy hollow beneath a tree and sprawled beside her. Sophie propped herself on her elbow and kissed him. One kiss followed another, as they undressed each other and made love. And as they clung together, for the first time she felt they had a chance.

  Thirteen

  Ben’s phone rang, rousing him from the doze he’d fallen into after making love. He dug it out of the pocket of his pants and connected the call. The conversation with Hannah was brief and to the point. She had kept the media and curious guests away from him and Sophie so they could have some privacy, but it was time to leave now.

  The weather was deteriorating a lot more quickly than the forecast had predicted. Mo
st of the guests were in the process of flying out and the catering crew were already cleaned up and boarding their launches.

  Ben quickly dressed and roused Sophie, who had fallen asleep. He kissed her on the mouth. “We need to leave, now.”

  Grabbing her hand, he pulled her up from the sand. By the time she had dressed and found her tote, the clouds were building overhead and the wind was gusting.

  He found his phone and checked the marine weather forecast. It wasn’t good. The forecast had been upgraded to a severe storm warning. They should have left an hour ago.

  He hurried Sophie along the beach, up the steps and out to the parking lot. When they had arrived, they had landed in a small airfield a mile or so from the resort and driven to the resort using one of the contractor’s trucks. The truck was parked where he’d left it.

  Ben opened the passenger-side door of the truck for Sophie. As they drove along the dusty road to the airfield, he checked the resort’s small marina. Hannah had managed the evacuation of the guests, so everyone had left in an orderly fashion, which was good news. The charter launches that had brought the catering people were just pulling out, and Holt’s superyacht was nowhere to be seen.

  He turned into the airfield and braked to a halt beside the hangar. He glanced at Sophie, who was checking her watch. She took out her phone and started texting.

  When the text didn’t send, she frowned. “We’re late. I need to change my appointment with my hairdresser.”

  “I thought you’d just been to the hairdresser.” The instant he said the words, he knew they were wrong. “What I mean to say is that your hair looks, uh, good as it is.”

  Her gaze narrowed on his. “Because it’s blond?”

  He frowned, suddenly wondering where this was going. “I liked it dark best. I don’t know why you changed it, but it’s okay blond, too.”