Oh, and the boots didn’t hurt. His first thought was to strip her out of the lace and mini and leave just the boots.
Yeah, there was an image. But which twin? He wanted to say Maddie . . . “You’re not triplets, right?”
She put one hand on her hip in a stance that was self-explanatory. Pissed off female alert. Whether she didn’t use both hands because she’d been shot on the job, his job, or because she didn’t want to expend any more energy than necessary, he had no idea.
“So you’re still here,” she said.
Okay, she looked like Maddie and sounded like Maddie . . . but did she taste like Maddie? He squelched that inappropriate thought the best he could, which wasn’t very well. “I can’t leave.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“Yeah. That one.”
Looking sizzling hot, she blew out another breath. “You’re more stubborn than my sister.”
Yes. Yes, he sure as hell was. She was speaking quietly, so quietly he practically had to cup his ear to hear her.
Very un-Maddielike.
Maddie wanted him gone. Enough to have her sister pretend—again—to be her while she escaped?
Probably.
Standing, he went to the window and looked out, seeing nothing but forest. “You could have avoided me coming here.” He turned back to her. “You know that, right?”
She arched a questioning brow. “Are you fishing for a hint to which twin you’ve got?”
He decided to plead the Fifth on that one.
“We’re completely identical, you know. Except for only one of us having a small birthmark on the back of the right thigh.”
A most interesting image, one he tried to forget as he eyed her body, trying to tell if she was favoring her arm. “I know another difference.”
And Maddie did, too. At least the real Maddie did.
“What’s that?”
“The tattoo.” And if she’d just turn around and bend over, her skirt was low enough on her hips that it might reveal enough of her heart-stopping ass to show at least some of the highly stylized inked Chinese symbol she had there, the one that translated to Dream Big.
She’d never said, but he had a feeling that once upon a time, dreaming big had been all she’d had, something he most definitely empathized with.
They were definitely kindred survivors, but with the way she practically screamed high class and him hardly even knowing what class was, that’s where their similarities ended.
“Right,” she said. “The tattoo. But that’s not for public viewing.”
Now see, Maddie would have just flashed him the ink; he was sure of it. She’d done it before, to him and Shayne both, and he’d nearly had to kill Shayne for drooling over the sight.
Maybe he could grab her hand, pull her over his knee, and tug down her skirt to see for himself, but as much fun as that would be, he valued his life very much. “I’ve seen the tattoo. You showed it to me yourself.” He waited for a reaction. Yeah, there, that flash of heat and temper. Maddie. It was all in the eyes, the undeniable awareness of him, even though she was trying to fight it. Join my club, babe.
“I’m going to ask you nicely this one last time,” she said. “And then you’re going to be sorry.”
“Actually, you’re not asking all that nicely.”
“Oh, forget it.” She shoved up her sleeves. “I’ll kick you out myself.”
Ah, a threat. Definitely Maddie. “I can help you. I can help you both.”
“How? You don’t even know which twin you have.”
And that made her mad. It was in the tight lines of her gorgeous, kissable mouth. And damn, she was holding her arm close to her side as if her shoulder hurt. Rising out of his chair, he moved toward her.
She gave one startled squeak and took a step back, right up against the wall now.
Good one, he thought. She might have been Leena right down to that unhappy glint in her eye, except for the I’ll-kick-your-ass tilt of the chin. He definitely knew which twin he had, and wondering how he’d ever doubted it, he stepped up close and personal, toe-to-toe, flattening his hands on the wall on either side of her head.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. Leena.”
Steam came out of her pretty ears at that. Oh, yeah, his gorgeous, strong, stubborn-as-hell Maddie was good and ticked off now.
Which made two of them. Why the hell wouldn’t she trust him enough to let him in on what was happening? Did she think he couldn’t sense that this was serious, deadly serious, and that she was in danger? It scared him. She scared him.
Frustrated and hot under the collar, he leaned in, wishing she didn’t smell so damn good . . .
“Maddie’ll—”
“What?” he murmured, watching the pulse at the base of her neck race. “Maddie’ll what?”
Her eyes narrowed as she clearly fought between admitting that she wasn’t Leena and her own damn pride, which wouldn’t allow her to admit anything. Neither could she fully squash the flash of hurt that he hadn’t known her.
Ah, Maddie. I know you. I know you inside and out. Watch me prove it . . .
Their noses were nearly brushing, and that wasn’t the only thing. Her breathing had changed, quickened, and with each shallow little pant, the tips of her breasts slid against his chest. He tried not to notice that or the way her nipples had hardened into two tight points, but was a complete failure at both.
She was softening, melting for him, and God, he loved that. Loved when she let him see the real her . . .
Failing at keeping his damned distance, he lifted his palms from the wall and slid his fingers into her hair.
Another sound escaped her, this one different from the first, low and uneven, which shot straight to his groin.
“What are you doing?” she asked, so breathy he nearly moaned.
What was he doing? He hadn’t a clue. All he knew was that he’d planned on getting her to agree to come back to work and then hightailing it out of here. But now, that was the furthest thing from his mind.
Which he’d apparently lost.
Yeah, his mind was gone, and he was crazy because he was going to kiss her. “I already know how Maddie kisses,” he murmured and slid the tip of his nose along her jaw, slowly exhaling in her ear, absorbing her shiver. “I thought I’d find out how you kiss.”
She gasped, but he shifted infinitesimally closer, letting his gaze drop to her sweet as sin lips, letting her know that he was thinking about much more than kissing.
And then she was thinking more, too, he could tell. Heat swirled in those baby blues as certain as it swirled in his gut.
And lower.
Christ, this was stupid. Spectacularly stupid. They’d kissed once before, and he’d barely recovered. He’d dreamed about, thought about, obsessed about that single kiss.
Now he wanted to do it again. Was going to do it again, stupid or not, mostly because his head wasn’t in charge. At least not the one on top of his shoulders. If it had been, he’d be still sitting at her desk, making her tell him what the hell was going on from a distance.
A healthy distance.
Instead, here he was, pressing her to the wall, practically inhaling her. And then his mouth was on hers.
She could have stopped him if she wanted to, and for a breath, he waited for her to do just that.
Instead, she let out a surprised, pleasure-filled sigh. She slid an arm up and around his neck, her other hand going to the small of his back as if to hold him in place.
And just like that, he was lost, lost in the feel and taste of her, lost in the sensation of being with her like this after fantasizing about it night and day.
No one could destroy him with a single kiss like she could, no one . . .
And then she said the word he’d hoped not to hear.
“Stop.”
Damn. With shocking reluctance, he lifted his head.
Mouth wet, she stared up at him, desire a
nd yearning pouring off of her in waves.
He glided his thumb over her full lower lip. “What?”
Her lips parted, but no words came out, just a soft sound, one filled with desire and confusion and frustration.
Leaning forward, he swallowed the next one with his mouth, kissing her again, and then again, his breath catching in an almost painful knot in his throat as he absorbed the gratifying, alluring warmth of her mouth, her hands tightening on him, running over his chest as if she had to touch him or die.
A goner.
He was a complete goner, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, falling headfirst into his own seduction. God, it was sweet, sinking into her, feeling her tongue slide alongside his, the scent of her hair teasing him, the feel of her hands gripping him so tight.
Tight was good, tight was fan-fucking-tastic, and going with that, he spread his fingers wide to touch as much of her as he could, knowing that this was a dream, one that he could be deprived of any time, and he wanted to be able to remember this. Wanted to remember every second.
She was tight, toned, but had curves in all the right places, lush, soft curves he wanted to bury himself in, and given the way she arched into him, those whispery pants in his ear, she felt the same. He slid his hand down over her sweet ass and the backs of her thighs, his other skimming beneath her top to the warm, sleek skin of her back, coming around to touch her belly, which was rising and falling with her quick breath.
“Brody.”
He heard it in her voice—she was going to stop him again, and he didn’t want her to. He could tell himself it was because it had been so long since he’d held a woman, but that would be an excuse. It was her.
He couldn’t stop touching her.
He slid his fingers over her ribs and was working his way north as his other hand continued the march on the southern territory, his fingers catching on . . .
Ah, Christ, yeah, a thong. “God, you feel good, so damn good.” His hands were busy, very busy, and so were hers, under his shirt, too, digging into the muscles of his back . . . “I want you naked,” he murmured. “Naked and all over me.”
She made a little sound that he decided was agreement, and he actually craned his neck to see where they could do this whole naked and all over him thing. “The desk.”
She followed his line of vision and choked out a laugh, sliding her hands around to his chest. “Oh, no.”
“It’ll hold—”
“No way. Seriously. Don’t even think about it.” But he was thinking and thinking hard. “Brody, listen to me.”
He turned to her. “Oh, I’m all ears. Maddie.”
She gaped at him. “You knew all along?”
“Did you really think I would kiss Leena like that?”
“This isn’t about the kiss.”
“No. It’s about me knowing you. And I do know you. Which is why you need to listen. I’m sticking, okay? Until the bitter end. So you might as well start talking.”
Chapter 8
Leena stood by herself upstairs, staring down at the picture of her and Maddie as little kids. Back then, they’d been equal in strength.
Then, slowly, she’d somehow let her faults run her life—that’s what had happened. And there’d been many. She’d been weak. Selfish. So damned selfish. Yes, she’d stayed with Rick and done his bidding out of habit, and certainly fear.
Lots of fear.
But if she was being honest, then she had to admit all of it. The lifestyle hadn’t hurt—island fun, the gorgeous house, traveling on Rick’s credit card whenever the fancy struck her . . . all luxuries she’d never have known otherwise.
But there’d been a price for those luxuries, and not just her self-esteem. She’d somehow managed to compartmentalize the bad, but that particular compartment had broken down. She could no longer ignore the facts. She’d screwed up. Made mistakes.
Bad ones.
She’d let herself be bullied into living a life that she never should have lived, and what made it worse was that she had come here to Maddie, expecting her to be willing to pick up and go with a ten-year-old plan, without thinking about what she’d be asking of her twin.
But she was thinking now.
She’d seen how Maddie looked at Brody. Seen, too, the brief hesitation on Maddie’s face when they’d talked about going away together and starting over. It’d been so brief Leena might have imagined it, but she hadn’t.
Maddie would never say so, but she liked the life she’d made for herself, and she deserved that life. She shouldn’t have to give it up.
And suddenly, she recognized and understood the new emotion inside her. Strength. Because maybe Maddie was right. Maybe she was stronger than she’d thought. And maybe . . . maybe she could do this all on her own so that Maddie didn’t have to give up her life.
Leena could follow The Plan on her own. It could work. Rick couldn’t do anything to Maddie because one, her sister wasn’t a jewelry designer, and two, if he even thought about getting the authorities involved, he’d be implicating himself.
Yeah, Leena really could vanish on her own. She could vanish and let Maddie live her life.
Maddie would never let her do it, of course. Never. Knowing it, knowing there was no better time than now, she grabbed her bag and then at the last moment, took the photo, too, slipping it into her bag next to her cell phone before quietly heading outside.
Maddie’s lips were still tingling. She didn’t take her eyes off Brody as confusion and heat flowed through her veins instead of blood. So much damn heat. . .
He’d kissed her.
Holy smokes, he’d nearly kissed her right into a spontaneous orgasm. Her pulse couldn’t seem to recover, nor could the rest of her. Her skin felt too tight, her breathing still labored.
Brody hadn’t taken his eyes off her, either. His own breathing didn’t seem any too steady, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough, his expression as baffled as she imagined hers was.
“I can’t believe you could kiss me like that,” he said. “With all that tongue and heat, and still not tell me what the hell is going on.”
“I thought that you thought that you were kissing Leena.”
“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.”
Okay, so he wasn’t slow. She knew that. He was a pilot, a man with sharp reflexes and a sharp mind.
But she was sharper.
She’d had to be.
All her life, she’d had to be.
Not Brody. Brody flew planes for a living and hung out with friends for a pastime. On weekends, he played basketball like a pro and gravitated toward big, stupid muscle cars. He was kind to old ladies and dogs. He liked pizza and loud music. When he dated, the women were usually warm and sweet, and vanished as fast as they appeared.
He did not, as a rule, worry or stress or angst about his existence, and if his past ever bothered him, he never let on. It certainly did not come back to bite him on his ass. Even thinking about him being a little boy was absurd because he was a man, a big, tall, rough-and-tumble man who made her hormones stand straight up and tap dance, damn it.
But she could set that aside. She would set that aside. He had