Tempted By The Wrong Twin

Mistaken identity leads to suddenly expecting...only from USA TODAY bestselling author Rachel Bailey!

Harper Lake can’t believe she bedded her boss after a wild night at a masked ball. But then she finds out it was actually his identical twin, Nick Tate! And she’s carrying his babies!

With his own set of twins on the way, Nick knows that proposing to Harper is the only next step. Yet the former navy SEAL is battling some deeply buried demons. Welcoming Harper back into his bed is the easy part. Finding true love and wedded bliss will be the ultimate test...and temptation.

“I’m not Malcolm.”

Harper didn’t take her eyes from the man as she said, “I know.”

He might look like her boss, but there was an intensity in every part of him—from his gaze to the way he held himself—that easygoing Malcolm had never had.

Then she remembered a little-discussed feature of Tate Armor Ltd.—it was jointly owned by Malcolm and his brother.

“You’re twins,” she whispered and he nodded.

All the pieces finally fit into place. She’d been confused about why she’d never been drawn to her boss before the night of the masked ball, and why he hadn’t stirred a reaction in her since.

But she’d made love with Nick that night. Things between them had happened so fast that even though she’d thought she’d sensed something different about him, she hadn’t had time to stop and question it. He’d kissed her and she’d melted and all coherent thought had ended.

And it was also why Malcolm had been able to act like nothing had happened when she saw him the next morning at work. Nothing had happened with him. Nick, on the other hand… Well, he’d rocked her world.

* * *

Tempted by the Wrong Twin is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: Blackmail—No secret—or heart— is safe in Royal, Texas…

Tempted by the Wrong Twin

Rachel Bailey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL BAILEY developed a serious book addiction at a young age (via Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck) and has never recovered. Just how she likes it. She went on to earn degrees in psychology and social work but is now living her dream—writing romance for a living.

She lives with her hero and four dogs in a piece of paradise on Australia’s Sunshine Coast, where she loves to sit with a dog or two, overlooking the trees and reading books from her ever-growing to-be-read pile.

Rachel would love to hear from you and can be contacted through her website, www.rachelbailey.com.

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This book is for Amanda Ashby, who is most excellent at brainstorming, can both cheer and cajole (often simultaneously!), has good taste in TV shows, makes a mean bliss ball and writes amazing books.

Bunches and bunches of thank-you’s to the awesome Charles Griemsman for, you know, pretty much everything. Also, thank-you hugs for Barbara DeLeo and Sharon Archer, who read early drafts of this book and had fabulous suggestions. And to my fellow TCC authors—it’s been fun!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Extract

Copyright

One

When his twin brother’s name flashed on his cell phone screen, Nick Tate accepted the call—it was pretty much the only number he didn’t let go through to voice mail these days.

Before he could even offer a greeting, Malcolm’s voice thundered, “Goddammit, Nick. You slept with our lawyer, didn’t you?”

The blood in his veins froze. There was only one woman he’d slept with since he’d returned from his last tour of duty, and they hadn’t stopped to share life histories. They hadn’t even stopped to exchange names. And now it seemed as though that had been a mistake.

“She’s our lawyer?” he asked. Maybe he’d misheard.

“Harper Lake has been Tate Armor’s company attorney for just over two years.”

Nick winced. That was the problem with being a silent partner in their business—he missed out on all the details. And it turned out that their lawyer was one hell of an amazing detail. It had been three months since their night together and he still hadn’t stopped thinking about her, but he’d had no way to track her down. Until now.

“And,” Malcolm continued, “it seems you didn’t tell her who you were. She thinks she slept with me.”

Nick swore under his breath. Most people couldn’t tell them apart at the best of times, but add a half-face mask—since it had been a masked ball—and his pretending to be Malcolm, and the task would have been virtually impossible. They hadn’t switched identities since they were kids, but when Nick had heard that a disgruntled customer had threatened his twin and would be stalking him at the ball, he didn’t hesitate to step in and make things right. It had been going on for several weeks, and enough was enough. He might not be good for much anymore, but this was something he could fix for his brother. Even if it had meant dragging his sorry ass out of seclusion.

So, yeah, since Harper knew Malcolm, she must have mixed Nick up with him that night. He just hadn’t realized it at the time. Their connection had been instant and explosive, and there hadn’t really been time to explain. Or even make it to the bed.

Despite the annoyance emanating from his brother on the other end of the phone, Nick smiled at the memory. He’d never met anyone remotely like Harper Lake.

But now wasn’t the time for reminiscing. He pulled himself together and addressed the problem at hand. A rare night of letting go had created consequences for his brother, the twin who’d always had enough finesse and charm for them both.

“I’ll handle this, don’t worry.” Now that he knew her name and where she worked, he’d be able to talk to her. Maybe he could wait for her after work tomorrow. Or perhaps he could drop in at lunch and offer—

“This isn’t some simple glitch that you can ride in on your white horse and sort out, Nick.”

Something in Malcolm’s voice had Nick’s SEAL training kicking in, and his entire body went on alert. “What do you mean?”

“Harper’s pregnant.”

The power of the word hit him square in the chest. Pregnant? Only his training kept him on his feet as the world tilted around him.

Harper was pregnant with his baby.

And then a second wave hit him with even more force than the first. Ellie. His three-year-old daughter—the only reason his heart still beat after the horrors of war had pummeled it—could suffer the fallout of his behavior. His ex-wife’s lawyers would use this to further their case that he was an irresponsible and unfit father. Especially if they knew the circumstances of how he’d swapped identities with his brother. His temples throbbed, and he rubbed them with his free hand.

Dammed if he was going to let them take Ellie from him. He’d fix this. Fix it for all of them.

He jerked his wrist over to check his watch. It was almost seven. “Are you at work? Is Harper still there?”

“She just left,” Malcolm said. “She waited until everyone else had gone for the day and came into my office. She said she wanted me to know and offered to do a paternity test if I wanted.”

He could see the scene playing out in his mind, and he hated it. Hated that he’d put his brother in that awkward position, but mostly hated what he’d done to Harper. What must she be feeling? Cursing him—or the Malcolm version of him—at the very least. She was probably overwhelmed.

He had to swallow hard to get his voice to work. “Did you tell her you weren’t at the masked ball? That it was me?”

“I said I had to go, apologized and promised we’d talk about it in the morning. She seemed taken aback, but I figured it was your job to tell her.”

“You figured right.” This situation was complex enough without her getting the details from his brother.

“You know how dangerous this is, don’t you?” Malcolm said, his voice a note lower than it had been. “You’re an owner of the business, and sexual harassment cases are no laughing matter.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Nick had always been responsible, even when he was a kid, so he’d never thought he’d be the guy his brother would have to give this talk to, and it sat uncomfortably.

“Plus, with this Maverick guy going around town spilling everyone’s secrets, don’t count on this situation being private for long. He might already know.”

Nick frowned. He might have been out of the loop, but even he had heard about the blackmailer causing headaches and heartaches for people all over Royal. Still, it was a little premature to be thinking about interference here.

“How could he possibly know when I only just found out?”

“How did he know that Wes Jackson had a kid with Isabelle Grayson? How did he know about Cecilia Morgan’s background? He’s obviously got some serious hacking and investigative skills.”

“True,” Nick said on a sigh. Local businessman and manufacturer Wesley Jackson was a friend of Malcolm’s and Nick had met him a few times. Wes and Isabelle were decent people who hadn’t deserved what Maverick had put them through.

“Also, all Maverick’s targets seem to be in the TCC, and since you and I are both members, we can’t discount the risk.”

“Hell.” Malcolm had a point. And the new proposals he’d been working on for the supply of body armor were all for security agencies. Given the nature of their business, handing Maverick ammunition to use on them in the form of a scandal like this would make them look like amateurs.

He blew out a breath. “Our clients need to know that any information they give us about their organizations is secure and not susceptible to a hacker.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm said, sounding weary. “Now is the time to have everything aboveboard. No secrets that could make us vulnerable.”

“I’m on it.” Nick grabbed his Kevlar riding jacket and slid his arms in, one at a time, switching the cell to his other hand as he went. “I’m going to need her home address.”

“It’s in Pine Valley. I’ll text it to you.”

“Thanks. And Malcolm?” he said, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Yeah?”

Nick drew in a long breath and held it for a moment before replying. “I will handle this. I’ll make everything right.” There was no other option. He’d make things right for Ellie, for Harper, for Harper’s baby, for Tate Armor—for everyone.

“Good luck.”

Nick disconnected the call, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out the door. Hell would freeze over before he’d ever let down someone he was responsible for again.

But by the time he’d reached Harper’s place—a “country cottage” that was far too impressive to deserve such a description—he was having doubts. How was he even going to convince her that he, not Malcolm, was the father of her baby?

Hi. You might be interested to learn that Malcolm has an identical twin brother.

Nope.

Hey, Harper. Remember that night you thought you were with Malcolm and conceived his baby? Well, it was me. Surprise!

Not even close.

Harper, I have something to say and you might want to sit down. My name is Nick, and I was impersonating my twin brother when we met. I should have told you before things got out of hand, and I apologize.

He’d need to find much better words in the next thirty seconds or risk having the door slammed in his face.

He knocked on her front door, still having no idea how he could possibly explain everything. Then the door swung inward and she was there and he had no air left to form words anyway. Her almond-shaped brown eyes widened at the sight of him, and he knew he had to say something. Anything. But her haunting beauty overwhelmed him. He’d barely been able to stop thinking about her since that night, and now here she was in real life. Filling his vision. Smelling like heaven.

“Malcolm?” she said, her voice breathy, and instead of explaining, he found himself mute, reaching out to feel the silky-soft skin of her cheek. His palm cupped the side of her jaw, his fingers feathering over her cheekbone, and he was lost.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she took a small step back, out of his touch, but her gaze didn’t falter. He waited a beat, waited in agony, waited until she swayed back toward him, and then he reached for her again. Her lips parted as she tilted her head into his palm. The world around them faded, and he took an infinitesimal step closer, being drawn by the magnetic force that had been there since he’d first laid eyes on her three months ago.

He was supposed to say something, tell her something, but there were no words in his mind, only Harper and the way her eyes had darkened as she looked at him. Breathing ragged, he lowered his head and speared his fingers through her long, glossy hair. This was wrong, so wrong, yet the rightness of it overwhelmed him, crushing all other thoughts.

She lifted herself on tiptoes and met him halfway, her mouth finding his, her lips soft, welcoming, wanting, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and gripping tight. With a groan of surrender, he slid his tongue along hers and hauled her flush against him.

This.

This was what had driven him crazy the night they’d met. This was what had kept her in his waking dreams since. This was what was making him dizzy now.

Of course, a little voice at the back of his mind whispered, this was also what had led him into trouble in the first place.

He had to stop kissing her. To find the strength to pull away and explain everything. Oh, but her mouth and what it was doing to his was divine...

Reluctantly, he eased back a little, then brushed his lips over hers one last time before straightening. She dropped her hands—all contact was broken—and he blinked hard to make his mind work. She gazed up at him, her eyes unfocused and her lips rosy from their kiss, and previous thought deserted him. In that moment, all that mattered was that Harper Lake knew she’d kissed him. Knew she’d made love with him. Nick Tate.

So, with his voice as rough as gravel, all he heard himself say was, “I’m not Malcolm.”

* * *

Harper gripped the edge of the door for balance but didn’t take her eyes from him as she said, “I know.”

If there was one thing for sure in the world, it was that the man in front of her was not the man she’d spoken to less than an hour ago. He might look like her boss, but there was an intensity in every part of him—from his gaze to the way he held himself—that easygoing Malcolm had never had.

And now that she was paying more attention, his hair was shorter, and there was a tiny scar in one eyebrow. But how was that possible? Then she remembered a little-discussed feature of Tate Armor Limited—it was jointly owned by Malcolm and his brother, Nick. A brother none of the staff had met and many of whom wouldn’t know existed.

“Twins,” she whispered, and he nodded.

All the pieces finally fit into place—her world made sense again. She’d been confused about why she’d never been drawn to her boss before the night of the masked ball, and why he hadn’t stirred a reaction in her since. But she’d made love with Nick that night. Things between them had happened so fast that even though she’d thought she’d sensed something different about him, she hadn’t had time to stop and question it. He’d kissed her and she’d melted and all coherent thought had stopped.

And it was also why Malcolm had been able to act like they hadn’t shared a night of passion when she saw him the next morning at work. At the time she’d been surprised—and relieved—that Malcolm had been able to carry on working with her as if they had an unspoken agreement to never mention their night together again. The first day had been awkward, but he hadn’t batted an eye when she’d walked into his office with contracts for him to sign.

As if nothing had happened.

Because nothing had happened with him.

Nick, on the other hand...well, he’d rocked her world.

She drew in a long breath and gripped the door a little tighter.

Nick was watching her warily, waiting to see what her reaction would be. Or perhaps he’d been as disoriented by their kiss as she had. Either way, they needed to talk, and standing on her porch was not the place to do it.

“You’d better come in,” she said as she opened the door wider and stepped back into the hall to let him pass.

Once they were in her kitchen, she made him a coffee and herself a peppermint tea—something that seemed to be keeping the morning sickness steady.

Nick accepted the steaming mug, set it on the counter beside him and blew out a long breath. “Look, about the ball—”

“No need,” she said, cutting him off. It wasn’t something she wanted to revisit in the cold light of day. “We’re beyond that now.”

He shook his head sharply. “I have to say it. I should have been up front. Told you who I was.”

Looking at him now, dominating her kitchen with no effort at all, she wondered how she could have confused the brothers, but hindsight was twenty-twenty.

“If I’d known Malcolm’s brother was his identical twin, I might have put two and two together on the night. I’ve worked with Malcolm. He’s attractive, sure, but he never made my knees go weak.”

“And I do?” Nick said, a cocky grin forming on his lips.

“I think we’ve proven that. Twice now. But that’s not what you’re here to talk about.”

The grin widened, then faded again. “I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t deliberately deceiving you.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You were there on Malcolm’s ticket. That’s pretty deliberate.”

“That’s a fair point,” he said, wincing. “There was something I needed to do for Malcolm.”

“Deal with his stalker?”

Nick’s head jerked up and he met her gaze, surprise clear in his eyes. “You saw that?”

The whole staff at Tate Armor knew about the guy—an ex-customer—who’d been so angry at Malcolm personally that he’d begun to make threats. Malcolm, nice as ever, had been trying to use diplomacy to defuse the situation. No one else had believed that had a chance of working. And the fact that the entire town was on edge thanks to the blackmailer Maverick only made things worse. There were whispers in the office that the guy might be working for Maverick, but Harper had always thought it was unrelated—Maverick’s modus operandi was completely different. Which had left them with a run-of-the-mill jerk who wasn’t responding to Malcolm’s way of dealing with the situation.

Then, at the masked ball, Harper had been fascinated when the man she thought was Malcolm had calmly but firmly laid down the law for the man. He hadn’t even had to say much. It had been in his slightly menacing stance. In his lethal tone of voice. The troublemaker hadn’t been happy, but he’d clearly known he was up against a brick wall and had let it go.

“Yes, I saw you. You were...formidable.” He hadn’t had to do anything sinister, but it had been obvious to both Malcolm’s stalker and to her that Nick was almost entirely composed of tightly coiled energy only just held under control. It had scared one of them off. Harper, however, had pulled him out onto the dance floor and made love with him soon after. “But you still could have told me.”

“I wasn’t sure if you knew Malcolm. You never called me by his name, so I thought you were meeting me just as me. Besides,” he said, his cocky grin back in place, “neither of us seemed to be in the mood for chitchat.”

She sipped her peppermint tea and hoped he’d attribute the heat in her cheeks to the steam curling up from the drink and not from blushing at the memory.

“And I would have told you afterward, but you left in a hurry.” He let the statement hang in the air—not quite an accusation, but clearly waiting for an explanation.

For a moment, she was back in the suite Nick had rented in the hotel where the ball was being held, straightening her clothes, mumbling an inadequate “I have to go” and trying not to break into a sprint, hoping Malcolm—Nick—didn’t get his trousers on and catch up to her before she made it out to her car.

She didn’t even meet his eyes as she said, “I suddenly realized I’d slept with my boss. There may have been some freaking out happening.”

He considered that for a moment and waited until she looked at him before replying. “I get that. Although, at the time, not knowing the background, you could say I was somewhat surprised.”

“It might have been different if I’d known you weren’t my—” She didn’t complete the sentence as the logic tripped her up. “Actually, you’re still my boss. Just the silent partner at the company.”

“True, but let’s leave that aside for the moment.” He took a mouthful of coffee, then put his mug on the counter and dug his hands in his pockets before meeting her gaze. “No excuses. I should have told you, and I apologize.”

“Accepted,” she said and blew out a breath, glad to leave the topic behind.

Nick picked up his coffee mug again and downed another mouthful. The silence was heavy with all that still sat unresolved between them, but she wasn’t sure how to start now.

Finally, he said, “We’d better talk about what we’re going to do.”

She pushed off the counter she’d been leaning on and headed for the living room. “Come in and sit down.” This conversation could go well or could be a disaster, and the only thing she had to help smooth the process was comfortable seating, which wasn’t particularly reassuring.

“So, we’re having a baby,” he said without preamble once they were settled on the sofa.

She nodded, glad he’d brought the subject up. He’d obviously known she was pregnant—the timing of his appearance was too coincidental to mean anything else—but she was relieved not to have to announce the news for the second time in one night. “We are.”

“I assume since you sought me—well, Malcolm—out, when you didn’t have to, that you’re planning on keeping it?”

“Yes.” She’d turned in her seat so her back was against the armrest. She wanted to be able to see his reactions more easily and also create a little distance. Clearly she needed all the help with that she could get. “Are you on board with that?”

“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation. “Don’t doubt for a second that I want our baby.”

Unease prickled across her skin. His gaze was deadly serious, and she didn’t know him well enough to read him. Did he just mean that he didn’t want her to end the pregnancy, or was there a more ominous message? Was Nick Tate the sort of man who might try to claim sole custody? This man was a stranger, and to a certain extent she was at sea in knowing how to handle him.