“I have a sister, Bryan.”

He shrugged. “Lots of people have sisters.”

Danni took a deep breath, steeling herself. “A twin sister. You’ve…you’ve met her.”

He was getting the picture now. She could see it in his eyes. But his expression was unreadable. She would have preferred his anger, his outrage.

She didn’t know how long they would’ve remained like this, frozen in a dreadful tableau. But then the front door opened, and heels clicked across the oak floor.

“Bryan? Bryan, I hope you’re here—” Kristine appeared in the arch to the living room. And then she, too, froze as she glanced from Bryan to Danni and back again. Bryan faced them both.

Identical twin sisters!

Dear Reader,

What would it be like to have a twin? That’s something I’ve often asked myself. I’m very close to my two sisters, but I can’t help wondering what it would be like to have an identical twin. Would I find the similarities comforting? Or would I rebel against them?

These are the questions I’ve explored while writing Christmas Babies. Danni Ferris has tried as hard as she can to establish her own identity, her own life. But sibling closeness—and sibling rivalry—keep getting in the way. Especially when Danni and her identical twin sister fall in love with the same man…

I hope you enjoy reading Danni’s story—and meanwhile I wish you a joyful holiday season!

Sincerely,

Ellen James

Christmas Babies
Ellen James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

THE MAN WAS even more attractive than Danni had remembered. Dark brown eyes, darker hair…decisive features, a look of unassailable confidence. Bryan McKay also gave the impression that he appreciated the humor in a situation. Right now he was gazing at Danni with the faintest of smiles.

“You work fast,” he said.

She flushed. Maybe she was being a little overenthusiastic. There’d been no answer when she’d knocked at Bryan’s half-open door. And so she had wandered inside his house, started to get familiar with the place. A few moments later he’d appeared and found her in this rather awkward position, kneeling on the floor of the living room, her tape measure skittering out across the baseboard. She became uncomfortably aware of her less than professional appearance—windblown hair, denim shirt, canvas shorts, work boots. Ordinarily she met clients wearing a suit and heels. But today’s business…well, it wasn’t ordinary.

Danni had first seen Bryan a few months ago, when she’d joined Partner to Partner, a volunteer association of San Diego executives. Since then they’d had a few casual conversations at luncheons, charity dinners and the like. Bryan had mentioned the house he’d recently purchased, and its need for remodeling. Danni had mentioned her longtime dream of doing exactly that—remodeling a house with her own two hands. Of course, she’d told Bryan, her advertising career left no time for dreams. He’d told her not to be so sure. And then last week—unexpectedly—he’d called her, proposing this meeting. Maybe Danni could take on Bryan’s house. They would discuss the idea, anyway.

“I guess I got ahead of myself,” she admitted now, reeling in her tape measure. “It’s just that ever since my Grandpa Daniel taught me how to use a miter saw, I’ve wanted to do some real carpentry work.”

Bryan merely stood there watching her, his gaze lingering. She couldn’t deny that she’d been attracted to him during their brief encounters in the past.

“I’m sure,” Danni said, “what you really want is a professional contractor—”

“First rule,” Bryan said. “Don’t sell yourself short. Didn’t they teach you that in advertising school?”

Danni grimaced. “It would be different if I were trying to sell you on an ad campaign—”

“Because it wouldn’t matter to you nearly as much,” he interrupted.

The insight surprised her, and unsettled her, too. “I guess we should discuss specifics,” she said, trying to sound brisk. But suddenly Bryan walked toward her, took her hand and drew her up beside him. He had an air of knowing what he wanted. And his eyes seemed to say that right now he wanted her.

“Ridiculous,” Danni muttered under her breath. Why was her imagination suddenly running away with her? She was usually very levelheaded.

“You are beautiful,” he murmured now. She felt an odd sense of unease, small details intruding on the edge of her consciousness: the warm breeze stirring through the open window beside her, the dusty surface of the oak floors…the look in the man’s eyes. Bryan drew her toward him, and then he put his arms around her and kissed her.

It was a firm kiss, a taking of possession kiss, his lips sending delight to the contours of hers. Her first instinct was, of course, to push him away. Yet somehow she found herself leaning toward him…leaning into him, a swirl of sensations catching her off guard. Desire, longing, confusion…

Impossible. This couldn’t be happening. A man’s arms, a man’s touch…a man she hardly knew, making her feel as if she had come alive more than at any time she could remember.

Something thudded to the floor. It took Danni a few seconds to realize that she’d dropped her tape measure. She pulled away from him at last. He smiled at her. Perhaps the kiss had ended, but his eyes held a promise of more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all day,” he said.

“All day…?”

“After last night, Danni, I’ve been waiting.” He took her into his arms again. But now Danni understood his words—and his actions—all too well. She felt a coldness deep inside, and then she just felt angry. There was only one explanation for this sexy, magical moment.

Kristine.

“I DON’T SEE WHY you’re so upset. It’s only a game, Danni. The same one we’ve always played,” Kristine remarked several hours later.

Danni scowled at her twin sister, studying the face so much like her own she might as well have been looking into a mirror: blue-green eyes, a mouth just a shade too generous, a high forehead resolutely undisguised. In college Kristine and Danni had gone through a phase where they’d tried to minimize their foreheads with bangs. Kristine had been the one finally to let her blond hair grow out. Danni, as usual, had followed her sister’s lead. But she was no longer the follower.

“We’re a little old for that joke, don’t you think?” she said acidly. “Switching places, trying to fool everyone we can. Dammit, Kris, you told him you were me. Used my name—”

“Well, I couldn’t very well use my own, could I? After all, I’m a married woman. Supposedly, anyway.” Kristine used her flippant tone, but she couldn’t quite hide the misery shadowing her expression. Danni felt an unwilling stir of sympathy. Some things apparently didn’t change: the way she hated to see Kristine unhappy for any reason, the fierce protectiveness she’d always felt toward her sister.

“I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong between you and Ted,” Danni said. “What’s the real problem here?”

Kristine glanced away. “Ted is just…Ted. Nothing to be done about him. That’s what Mom always says, anyway.”

Kristine had committed the ultimate heresy in the Ferris clan—she’d married a lawyer instead of becoming one. According to the family view, it was mandatory for the Ferris girls to achieve success on their own. They weren’t supposed to drop out of college one semester before graduation, meander from one job to another and then elope with a scandalously wealthy man ten years their senior. But that was exactly what Kristine had done.

“All right, forget Ted for now,” Danni muttered, the anger washing over her again. “Let’s discuss Bryan McKay instead. Let’s talk about the fact that no matter what’s going on in your marriage, you have no excuse for using my name, my identity to…what? Have an affair? He talked about last night as if…” Danni couldn’t finish.

“Relax. It hasn’t gone that far. Not for lack of wishing, though.” Kristine drew up her knees and clasped her arms around them. She looked like a woman contemplating adultery.

Danni sank down on Kristine’s sofa, the one upholstered in wild geometric shapes. It was like Kristine herself—vivid, excessive, yet rigidly structured.

“All right,” Danni said, “you’d better tell me the whole story from the beginning. And don’t leave anything out.”

Kristine made an attempt at a careless shrug. “Surely you’ve figured it out by now. A couple of weeks ago, when you said you couldn’t make that big event because you were too busy…I went in your place. It seemed harmless enough at the time. I needed…I needed something to forget my own life….I told myself it would only be for a few hours. An escape for just a little while. But then this perfectly gorgeous man came up to me, and he thought I was you…and I didn’t know how to tell him otherwise….”

Danni remembered telling Kristine about the Partner to Partner gala, and how sorry she was that she couldn’t attend. She’d never imagined, though, that her sister would use the opportunity to play the old game. It was the kind of thing Kristine had been guilty of at twelve, or sixteen. Trying to escape whatever trouble she’d been in at the moment…pretending she was Danni. She ought to have outgrown that tactic long ago.

“How many times have you seen Bryan?”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Kristine mumbled.

“How many times, Kris?”

“Hardly any. The night I met him. And then twice afterward, if you count last night.” Kristine was starting to get her defiant look—the one she always got when she realized she’d gone too far but wouldn’t admit it. “I didn’t plan on any of this, you know.”

“Nothing you could do about it, I’m sure,” Danni remarked sarcastically. “It was totally out of your control.”

“Don’t be so damned superior,” Kristine snapped back. “You know why we’ve switched places before. It’s a chance to slip out of your own life and into something more…bearable.”

Admittedly, there had been times growing up when Danni had played the game, too. She’d longed to be someone more daring and reckless and so she’d pretended to be Kristine. But they were both adults now, thirty years old, and the time for pretending was long past.

Now Danni studied her sister. “Is your life really so bad,” she asked, “that you have to escape?”

Kristine stood and moved to the impressive row of picture windows. Night had fallen, but the moon cast a glimmer on the beach and rippled across the ocean waves beyond.

“What could be bad?” she asked, her voice hollow. “Everyone thinks I have the most wonderful husband in the world.”

“Kris, what is going on with you and Ted?”

Kristine folded her arms, and her face got a closed-in look. “Let’s talk about you for a change. Is your life so fantastic that you don’t want to change it—you don’t want to escape?”

“My life,” said Danni, “is perfectly fine.”

“Oh, right. You have a job you hate. The only reason you keep it is because Mom and Dad are thrilled one of their daughters is finally a corporate success. And then there’s your love life. Basically, you don’t have one.”

Now Danni stared out at the restless ocean waves. “I date,” she said.

“Ha. You never get beyond the first date with anyone. You haven’t had anything serious since Peter. And, by the way…let’s not forget you stole Peter from me.”

Danni shook her head. “You know it wasn’t like that. Why do you keep saying it?”

Kristine, stubborn as ever, didn’t answer. Danni thought back to four years ago, when her sister had been seeing Peter Mackland. But then Ted had come along, Kristine had fallen madly in love and eloped with him…and afterward Peter had turned to Danni. At first she’d offered him friendship, nothing more. It wasn’t long, however, before she’d convinced herself that she was in love with him.

“What if,” Kristine continued finally, as if Danni hadn’t spoken. “What if you hadn’t snatched Peter away from me? You were always the one he preferred. I could see it. But maybe…maybe if I’d felt that he truly loved me…I wouldn’t have been so susceptible to Ted….”

“Oh, Kris, stop,” Danni said in exasperation. “You always distort the truth. You dumped Peter, remember? I was just the consolation prize. Besides, he turned out to be an ass. You got Ted—definitely the better end of the bargain.”

“I married Ted,” Kristine said in a clipped tone. “That was my first mistake.”

The two of them had once seemed so in love, lost in their own special world. What could have happened to bring the bitterness to Kristine’s voice, the heartache to her eyes? Danni wondered.

“Don’t ask,” Kristine muttered. “Just don’t.”

It wasn’t the first time Kristine had read Danni’s thoughts. They were twins. They were close…no changing that, it seemed.

“Look,” Danni said. “You have a habit of running away from your problems. And this time—this time you’ve really done it, Kris. If I weren’t so damn furious at you—”

“It’s not like you want Bryan McKay,” her sister interrupted. “Or then again…maybe you do, and you just don’t know how to show it.”

“What I feel or don’t feel about Bryan has nothing to do with it.” Danni was making a supreme effort to stay calm and in control. “You’ve done something very wrong, Kris, and you’ve got to stop.”

Kristine swiveled away from her. “Don’t you think I know that? But I need something. I need the way Bryan makes me feel—”

“No. What you need is to work things out with Ted. After you’ve told Bryan the truth.”

“All I want is a few more days,” Kristine said in a low voice. “Only a few. You can’t deny me that much. After Peter…you owe me.”

Danni battled a growing frustration. “No way,” she said. “Forget it. You refuse to see things the way they really are, Kris. You spin fantasies, you cling to half truths—”

Kristine turned back and gave her a hard look. “If you’re so against deception, why didn’t you tell Bryan the truth yourself?”

At first Danni simply couldn’t answer. She stared out at the moonlit night, remembering this afternoon…remembering the way Bryan McKay had taken her into his arms and kissed her. Just thinking about it, her skin tingled with warmth.

“He is rather hard to resist, isn’t he?” Kristine remarked.

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Sure,” Kristine said. “Nothing.”

Danni curled her fingers against her palms. Why hadn’t she told Bryan the truth, once she’d realized what her sister had done? Instead she’d pulled away from him, mumbled some incoherent excuse, and rushed out the door. It had all been so embarrassing and undignified. Why couldn’t she have handled the matter with some authority?

Maybe her sister was right. Maybe she hadn’t told Bryan the truth because she did find him attractive…very attractive. But slowly another answer came to her. Perhaps deep down she’d known it all along. The main reason she hadn’t enlightened Bryan was because, quite frankly, she’d felt an odd, surprisingly intense disappointment. If a man was going to kiss her the way he’d done, she wished that he could have told her apart from her sister. Kristine and Danni were different. And for once, just once, Danni wanted a man to see without being told.

“What I find most interesting of all,” Kristine said astutely, “is that during your little social tête-á-tête you neglected to tell Bryan you even have a twin.”

“We were just casual acquaintances. The subject of twins never came up. But he needs to know the truth now,” Danni said. “All of it. And if you can’t tell him, I certainly will—”

“No,” Kristine said urgently. “Just give me a few days. I promise I’ll tell Bryan—but just let me do it in my own way, my own time.”

Danni pressed her hand to the window. Waves glided across the sand, surged and fell back.

“Just two days, Danni. That’s all I’m asking.”

Maybe, deep down, Danni was a coward. Because she certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell Bryan he’d been tricked. She didn’t want to see the look on his face when he found out.

“Two days, Kris,” she said at last. “You have forty-eight hours…and not a minute more.”

BRYAN HAD EXPECTED his mother to be taking it real easy. That had been the first thing he’d suggested. It had all happened so quickly. Son gets the midnight call. Son drops everything, flies out to Saint Louis to arrange things. Son transports mother, mother’s belongings and mother’s three cats back to San Diego. Thus son fulfills his dying mother’s plea to live out the last few remaining months of her life in the city of her birth. So what the hell was the old gal doing perched on a high stool, dusting the pantry cabinets?

“I’ve hired a service, Mom. Cleaning’s done three times a week. Meals are Monday through Friday. The weekends we’ll have to fend for ourselves, but that shouldn’t be a problem—”

“I’m not dead yet, Bryan,” his mother said, still chasing phantom cobwebs and imagined dust bunnies with a damp cloth. “I’ve cooked and cleaned and looked after myself since I was ten years old. That’s fifty-seven years of managing things—”

“59 years, Mom. You were sixty-nine last May.”

“I know when my own birthday is,” she muttered. She strained to reach a far corner of the pantry shelves, teetering dangerously on the edge of the stool. Bryan stepped forward, ready to stop her from toppling off. She scowled at him.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just fine.”

She was anything but fine. She’d lost too damn much weight, seeming to shrink right before his eyes. Her once-thick hair hung listlessly, and new lines had etched into her face. The cancer seemed to be whittling away at her. He’d talked to the doctors in Saint Louis, rounded up the best he could find here in San Diego. They all used the same words, the same phrases. Incurable. Inoperable. We’ll make her as comfortable as we can.

Bryan wasn’t ready to give in just yet. And neither, it seemed, was his mother. She swiped her cloth along another shelf.

“You found me a very nice apartment, Bryan, even if the neighborhood is a bit upscale for my taste.”

The remark was typical of her—paying him a compliment but being sure to throw in a little criticism at the same time. Ever since he was a kid, his mother had operated on the “don’t let your son get a swelled head” theory of parenthood. Namely, she’d done everything in her power to ensure that Bryan didn’t turn out like his father: conceited and cocksure, self-important and self-indulgent.

Not that Bryan had ever had much of a chance to imitate his father. He’d only been seven when Randall McKay was killed in a boating accident. In all the years afterward, his mother had freely elaborated on her dead husband’s faults. She’d dwelled on his inconsistencies, his many annoying habits…never quite able to hide how much she’d loved him in spite of his flaws or how angry she was at him for leaving her. Her complaints about him were her way of keeping him alive. Bryan had long since figured that out.

Funny thing was, lately she hadn’t talked much at all about him. That worried Bryan. Of course, everything about his mother worried him these days.

“I’m not sure an apartment was the right way to go,” he said now.

“I know you wanted to stick me in a nursing home, Bryan. Or, even worse, have me live with you. A parent should never live with a grown child. It’s not good for either of them.”

Elizabeth McKay had a lot of rules. She was not a woman who tolerated shades of gray; she cherished absolutes.

“Okay,” Bryan said, “so you won’t move in with me. But what I really had in mind wasn’t actually a nursing home. More of a…cooperative living arrangement, with nurses on duty—”

“Nursing home,” said his mother flatly. “Doesn’t matter what you call it, or how fancy it is.”

Another of Elizabeth’s absolutes: she would not end up in a nursing home, no matter what the circumstances. So Bryan was playing it her way, trying to give her the dignity of spending her last few months as she wished.

He felt a heaviness inside. His mother had raised him single-handedly, with virtually no help from anyone. Among his father’s failings had been improvidence. Randall McKay had left his widow with no insurance, no assets and a pile of bills. After his death, she’d struggled along on a secretary’s salary. And—unknown to Bryan at first—she’d cleaned houses in her off hours in order to afford a few luxuries for him. Basketball shoes, a guitar when he went through his music phase, even sailing lessons “so you’ll learn not to kill yourself on the water like your poor reckless father.”

Bryan still remembered the jolt he’d had at the age of twelve when, emerging from youthful self-absorption, he’d finally figured out what his mother was doing. Her long hours weren’t all spent at the office typing reports and financial statements. Instead, she spent a good portion of her time mopping other people’s floors, scrubbing their kitchen sinks, scouring their bathroom tiles. Pride had kept her from telling Bryan. Pride…and not wanting him to feel guilty. The day he’d learned the truth had been the beginning of manhood for him. It had given him a hearty dislike for deception, and it had made him vow someday he’d be rich enough so that his mother wouldn’t have to work at all.

Of course, he hadn’t counted on her stubbornness, or her independence. She’d kept right on working, well past the time when he could have supported her several times over. It had been something of a coup when at last he’d convinced her to retire. She’d chosen Saint Louis, to be near one of her girlhood friends. But now…now she was back in San Diego, trying to arrange the end of her life as neatly as she was arranging the cans on her pantry shelves.

Having set down her cloth, she’d lined up the potato soup next to the cream of tomato. “It would be nice,” she said, “if you could meet someone, Bryan. Someone besides those dreadful businesswomen you usually surround yourself with.”

Another backhanded compliment. “Actually,” Bryan said, surprising himself, “I have met someone.”

His mother perked right up. “Oh—who is she?”

He smiled a little. “You could say she’s a carpenter.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “That’s different, at least. About time you got away from those icy corporate types.”

Bryan had to smile again at that. Danni was indeed a “corporate type,” but hardly icy. Maybe she’d been standoffish at first, but at their last few meetings all that had changed.

“What’s her name?” Elizabeth asked.

“Danni. Danni Ferris.”

“Go on,” his mother said impatiently. “Is it serious?”

There was only so much he was willing to share. He didn’t tell his mother a whole lot about his personal life; that was one of his rules.

“Bryan,” said his mother, “don’t keep me in suspense. Is it serious?”

Maybe there was no point in hiding the truth. Especially since his mother was so ill. And so he gave a grudging nod.

“Could be,” he said. Finally, Bryan saw a smile ease the pain and weariness on his mother’s face.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS GOING TO BE a long night at the offices of Nolan, Williams and Beck. A new account had just been dumped on Danni’s desk, deadline yesterday, and she was brainstorming with the two members of her team. At least, she was attempting to brainstorm while one half of her team sat slumped over a notepad, making non-sensical doodles, and the other half rambled on.

“Mr. Nolan told me personally this was a very important assignment,” said twenty-one-year-old Michelle in a reverent tone. Michelle was discoursing at length on her favorite subject: Mr. Nolan, chief partner in Nolan, Williams and Beck.

Larry, still doodling on his notepad, conveyed an air of world-weary cynicism. It didn’t fool Danni, though. She knew all about his long-term crush on Michelle. The wonder was that Michelle didn’t know.

“Mr. Nolan,” said Michelle, “is putting his full trust in us to do a first-rate job. That’s exactly what he told me. His full trust.”

Larry rolled his eyes. Michelle gave him a suspicious glance.

“Mr. Nolan,” she said, a bit more forcefully, “is the type of person who expects a person to rise to the occasion. I won’t let him down. He’s counting on me.”

Larry rolled his eyes even more expressively this time. He didn’t need to say anything, but Danni knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing she was thinking: the very rich and powerful, very good-looking Mr. Nolan probably didn’t even know Michelle’s name.

“Speaking of the job,” Danni said, “let’s get going. We need to come up with ideas fast.” She rubbed the crick in her neck, and frowned at the file on Hobbyhorse Toys. The company was a regional business, brand-new, rushing to launch its grand opening in time for Christmas. Apparently there had been “creative differences” with the previous advertising firm, and Danni was pinch-hitting late in the game. Make that very late. She needed some major inspiration.

A familiar tension coiled through her body. This was the nature of the business—always struggling for that one perfect idea that would excite the client and sell the product. After so many years, she ought to be used to the process by now…the endless late nights, the gallons of coffee, the deadlines threatening, the panic—followed by elation when the idea came. And then the whole cycle beginning again with another client.

Danni pulled a blank sheet of paper toward her and started doodling herself. Think, she commanded. What’s the angle on this one? What’s going to save us this time? She scarcely paid attention to what she was drawing until Michelle leaned over to peer.

“Designing a dream house?” she asked with interest.

Danni stared at her rough sketch. A porch with arches, a garden gate, a trellised passage-way…it looked very much like Bryan McKay’s house. Danni crumpled the sheet and lobbed it toward the trash can on the opposite side of the room. She kept it over there on purpose so she could practice her set shot. This time she missed. The crumpled sheet of paper landed at the feet of someone who had just appeared in the door-way—Bryan McKay. He picked it up and took his own aim. It landed neatly in the trash. Then he regarded Danni, his expression impassive.

Her heart pounded uncomfortably. She could think of only one reason he would be here. Kristine no doubt had spoken to him…and now he probably wanted Danni’s explanation as well.

“Larry,” she said. “Michelle. You can take a break.”

The two trooped out the door. Michelle, as she went, gave Bryan an interested glance—her devotion to Mr. Nolan notwithstanding. Of course, what woman could avoid looking at Bryan? Tonight he wore a charcoal suit of understated sophistication, his tie loosened just a bit. With his dark eyes and darker hair, he was far too handsome for anyone’s good.

When they were alone, Danni nodded toward the door. “You might as well close it,” she said. “And then we’ll get this over with.”

He gave her a quizzical glance. “It’s going to be that unpleasant?”

“After what Kris told you,” she muttered, “it’s bound to be.”

“Who’s Kris?”

She sank back in her chair. So he didn’t know…Kristine hadn’t talked to him yet. Danni felt the oddest mixture of despair and relief. The forty-eight hours she’d given her sister were only half over.

“Bryan, why are you here?” she asked, trying to sound as businesslike as possible.

He closed the door after all. Then he came to her desk and drew her up beside him. He put his arms around her and traced his lips across her cheek.

Unfair…so unfair. To have a man touch her like this, hold her like this, and to know it was all a mistake. She felt herself tremble.

“Danni, what’s wrong?” he murmured against her ear.

She closed her eyes briefly. Then she lifted her head and gazed full at him. See me, she commanded silently. See who I am.

But he didn’t see. He just brought her close once more and kissed her.

It was a very long moment before she pulled shakily away from him. She’d never known a kiss like that, not even in her dreams. Tender, sensual…possessive. Claiming her, even when he didn’t know who she was.

Danni retreated to the other side of her desk. “We can’t do this,” she said.

“Why not?” he asked in a reasonable tone.

She folded her arms against her body, and gazed at him as steadily as possible. “By tomorrow night you’ll know the answer. I’d tell you myself, but…well, I made a promise. And I always do keep my promises.”

He gave her a long, considering look. “What gives, Danni?”

“I told you—you’ll find out soon enough. Twenty-four hours from now…it will all be too painfully clear.”

Bryan seemed about to argue, but then seemed to think better of it. He changed tack. “So we’ll talk about my house,” he said.

Danni took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Bryan, but I can’t do the remodeling for you.” She waved at the papers and folders strewn across her desk. “As you can see, my schedule is already overextended.” She was telling the truth. Her advertising job didn’t exactly leave a lot of time to spare. She had no business considering moonlighting as a carpenter. Much as she loved the idea.

“Yesterday you couldn’t wait to get to work on the place,” Bryan said. “I saw it in your eyes. So why are you backing off now?”

Danni gave what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I can’t deny it’s a wonderful house. But you know that—you bought it.”

His face tightened. “I didn’t buy the place for its charm.”

Danni knew she was stalling for time, but she would probably never see him again after today. Could a few more moments really matter?

“Why did you buy the house, Bryan?” she asked.

He got a brooding look. “Let’s just say it was…a promise I made to myself. A promise fulfilled.”

It occurred to Danni that she wasn’t the only one with a secret at the moment. “Come to think of it,” she said, “I didn’t see much furniture around. No boxes to be unpacked…I thought you’d moved in. Unless you intend to wait until after the remodeling.”

He made an impatient gesture. “I’m not moving in. I bought the place as a sort of…investment.”

“If it were my house,” Danni said, “I’d move right in. I’d let the remodeling happen all around me. I know that would drive a lot of people crazy, but I’d want to be right in the thick of it, figuring out what the house needs as things go along.”

“I don’t exactly want to get personal with the place,” Bryan said dryly.

“You almost sound as if you don’t like the house.”

“Let’s just say it brings back memories,” Bryan said, almost as if to himself.

Danni was more puzzled than ever, but she knew she’d delayed long enough.

“Thanks for stopping by and all,” she said, “but I really do have to get back to work.”

“Let’s see. You ran out on me yesterday—and now you’re showing me the door.”

“That’s the basic idea,” she said. “Goodbye, Bryan.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You act like you’re not just refusing my house, you’re refusing…me.”

Suddenly Danni felt impatient to have it over with. “I don’t really see that we have much of a relationship,” she said coolly.

“That’s not what you told me a few days ago. You told me you thought this could be serious.” Bryan gazed at her so intently that she had to glance away.

Kristine. What else had Danni’s sister told Bryan? Told him while pretending to be Danni?

“You can’t run out on me now,” he said softly. “I’ve been advised to try something new in my life. No more corporate-type women. In fact…I’ve been told it’s good for me to be dating a carpenter.”

“Well, I am a corporate woman, aren’t I?” Her only claim to actual carpentry experience were those long-ago summers when she’d been in her teens, and she’d helped Grandpa Daniel build his house. The summers when she’d been truly, uncomplicatedly happy.

Bryan glanced around her office, then brought his gaze back to her. “I like you better in a tool belt.”

If she listened to him another second, she’d be lost. She’d find herself right back in his arms….

“Bryan, there’s so much you don’t know about me.”

“I’m listening.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll find out soon enough. Right now there’s nothing more to say except goodbye.” Quickly she went to the door and opened it. Bryan gave her another long, thoughtful glance. And then he left.

Yes, it was going to be a long night.

KRISTINE WAS FLOORING IT—and Danni hung on as the golf cart went thumping up a rise of the Sugar Beach Country Club. As it reached the crest, the view was admittedly magnificent—the green sweep of the golf course merging into white-gold sand, the Pacific shimmering pure blue to the horizon. But then the cart went charging downward again, and Danni berated her sister.

“Stop. Enough already. You’ve made your point.”

“And what point would that be?” Kristine asked, paying no attention to the golf clubs rattling in the back.

“That you’re nothing at all like the other society wives at Sugar Beach. You don’t play it safe. You live dangerously.”

Kristine stopped the cart so abruptly that Danni almost tumbled out the front. Kristine just sat there, hands clenched in her lap, staring at the ocean. Her oversize sunglasses made it impossible to read her expression.

“Kris,” Danni said at last, breaking the unnatural silence. “You haven’t answered my first question yet.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean. When do you plan to tell Bryan the truth?”

Kristine went on staring straight ahead. “You said you’d give me two days. My time’s not up yet—”

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon. Your time’s running out fast. And after the things he said last night—I want to make damn sure he learns the truth as soon as possible.”

Now Kristine turned to look at Danni, her mouth narrowing. “You saw Bryan last night?” she asked a moment later.

“He showed up at my office. Said he thought things were getting serious between us.”

“Just how serious did things get last night?” Kristine asked in a tight voice.

“I wish you’d listen to yourself,” Danni burst out in exasperation. “You try to have an affair, pretending to be me, and then you act jealous because…I can’t even go on. It’s too ridiculous, and too awful at the same time.”

“Just say it. I’m awful.” Kristine was suddenly all motion. She clambered out of the cart, grabbed a golf club seemingly at random, and started off across the fairway. Danni had to hurry to catch up to her.

“Kris—”

“I don’t blame you for hating me. Sometimes I hate myself. But I got so crazy when Ted…when Ted…” She couldn’t seem to finish. Instead she found her golf ball and took a forceful whack at it.

“If Ted’s the problem,” Danni said, “Bryan McKay isn’t the solution.”

Kristine marched away again, club in hand. She was wearing a very fashionable ensemble—cream-colored slacks, matching cashmere sweater, perfectly coordinated spiked shoes. You didn’t live in exclusive Sugar Beach, just north of San Diego, without exhibiting the proper fashion sense. The town wasn’t quite Beverly Hills in status, but it was close enough. Danni didn’t much care for the Sugar Beach crowd, herself. She suspected her sister didn’t either, but that was something else Kristine wouldn’t confess.

Now Danni trailed after her sister. “Okay, so you won’t talk about your husband. Just let me know when you plan to talk to Bryan.”

“I already arranged to see him, all right?”

“Make sure you tell him everything—”

“I’m fulfilling my part of the bargain. So why are you hounding me, Danni?”

“I want…” Danni struggled with frustration. “I want to put this whole mess behind me. The mess you made, by the way.”

Kristine stared at her from behind the protective barrier of her sunglasses. “I wish I could go back in time,” she said in a low voice. “All the way back to Peter. If I’d stayed with him—if you hadn’t ended up with him instead—everything would be different. Everything would be better.”

Danni told herself to remain rational and objective. “Kris, why are you bringing up old history again? After you met Ted, you told me how glad you were that you hadn’t ended up with Peter…that you’d broken off with him before it was too late.”

Kristine went back to the cart, climbed in and sped off before Danni could catch up. Then she chugged along at a most annoying pace—just fast enough that Danni had to jog in pursuit. At last Kristine glanced over her shoulder at Danni.

“I’ll tell you why I’m bringing up old stories. I think there’s a pattern here. I think whenever I find a man who could actually mean something to me, you decide he has to be yours. Call it sibling rivalry, call it whatever you want—but I’m surprised you never went after Ted. Or maybe you did, behind my back.”

“Kris!” Danni exclaimed, stung—and furious. She stood still. Kristine bounced along in the cart for another few yards, but then circled back. Danni glared at her. “How could you even imagine something like that? You know me, and you ought to know how much I care about you. That’s why I’m going to forget you ever said that. You’re terribly unhappy, and you’re taking it out on me.”

Kristine maintained her bravado for another few seconds, but then her face crumpled. She took off the sunglasses, and Danni saw her reddened eyes. She looked as if she’d been crying for hours.

“Oh, Kris—”

“Danni, if you ask me what’s wrong, I swear I’ll hit you with a three wood.” Tears spilled down Kristine’s cheeks, and she swiped at them. “I can’t have anyone here see me like this,” she mumbled. “You don’t know what they’re like, Danni. They’re always watching, waiting for one little misstep, one little show of vulnerability they can use against me. And all the while they’re pretending to be my devoted friends. I never feel safe anymore.”

“So much for high society. Come on,” Danni said, climbing into the cart beside her sister. “Put the sunglasses on, and no one will be able to tell.”

Kristine replaced the protective barrier, but her mouth had a pinched look. “I’m sorry for what I said, Danni. You’re the only real friend I do have left.”

Danni sighed. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m ticked at you, big time. It’s bad enough that you pretended to be me. But letting Bryan believe things could be serious—”

“All right, all right, I know it’s impossible.” Now Kristine sounded miserable again. “I don’t want to hurt Bryan.” And then, in a low voice, she added, “There’s been enough hurting already.”

“Kristine—”

“No more questions, Danni. I told you I’d come clean with Bryan, and I will. Tonight, in my own way.” The cart took off again at a good clip. Kristine gripped the wheel, staring straight ahead, and Danni no longer had the heart to chastise her. Besides, she had a niggling feeling inside, a fear that there might be a grain of truth to what Kristine had said. Was it possible that Danni did have some destructive need to compete with her sister when it came to men? And, if it was true, how could she ever have a sound relationship with a man…an enduring relationship…

“Oh, no,” Kristine said. “It’s him. He’s coming right toward us.”

For a wild moment, Danni thought Kristine was talking about Bryan McKay. But no…Bryan wasn’t in the golf cart approaching them. Instead her sister’s husband was at the wheel.

Kristine floored their own cart all over again—speeding away from Ted.

“Kris, this is ridiculous,” Danni said, hanging on for dear life. “At least, think of what your Sugar Beach friends will have to say about this.”

After a moment, the cart came to a jolting stop. Ted rode up beside them.

“Hello, Danni,” he said. And then, after an awkward pause, “Hello, Kris.”

At forty-one, Ted was still an extremely handsome man—tall, well-constructed, solidly built. Even if he was starting to gray a bit around the edges, settle a bit, the look suited him. However, right now his face was strained in a way Danni had never seen before.

“Kris, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” he told his wife. “But you’ve got to stop.”

“I asked you to leave me alone.” Kristine’s voice wobbled. “Can’t you do that much for me?”

“No. Why should I? You’re mad at me, but you don’t even know what’s going on. You won’t even listen—”

“I don’t want to hear! Can’t you understand? That will only make it worse. Listening to all the reasons. The explanations, the excuses…”

“No excuses,” Ted muttered. “When you’re ready to hear me out, you let me know. When you’re ready to stop thinking about yourself, you let me know. I’ll be waiting…for a little while.”

“A little while?” Kristine’s voice was clogged with tears. She and her husband stared at each other, locked in their own private torment. Danni felt like an intruder, but there was nowhere to retreat. The golf course spread out all around them in its lovely emerald green…offering no reprieve anywhere. Nonetheless, she started to climb out of the cart. Kristine reached out a hand to her.

“No, Danni—please,” she implored. “Don’t leave me.”

Ted looked from one sister to the other. “Oh, hell,” he said heavily. Then he turned his cart around, and drove back the way he had come. Kristine waited until he had left before she broke down. Danni put an arm around her sister, and tried to comfort her.

The twin who infuriated her…the twin whom she loved.

CHAPTER THREE

THE THRILL of the hunt. That was the main thing Bryan liked about his work. It was his job to put money and people together for big projects, big dreams. In the process, he got called a lot of different names: venture capitalist, risk taker. Gambler. Damn fool, even, according to one client, until the client’s investment came back twentyfold.

And now Bryan was on the hunt for new game. It had taken him over three weeks to set up this appointment with the evasive C. J. Whit-field. At last the man had agreed to meet Bryan in this small restaurant in the heart of San Diego’s Old Town.

Bryan ordered a beer, sat back and listened to the haunting flute playing somewhere outside in the cool air. It was music that put him in mind of Danni Ferris. Of course, just about everything put him in mind of Danni lately. He was still thinking about her when someone slipped into the chair across the table.

“Mr. McKay.” It was a statement, not a question, spoken by a slender brunette in her thirties. She gazed at him appraisingly, almost challengingly. It only took him a second or two to figure out who she was.

“The C.J. is misleading,” he said.

She ordered a cappuccino. “For some reason, people just assume C.J. is going to belong to some stodgy good old boy. Beats me why they don’t figure it could stand for Candace Jennifer as well as anything else.”

She didn’t look like either a Candace or a Jennifer. She looked like…a C.J. Someone who enjoyed hiding behind an air of mystery and then taking others by surprise. Bryan wasn’t impressed. He considered all the delays he’d gone through to get this appointment—the cancellations, the rearrangements. It was too elaborate. Too devious, in the end.

“Well, Mr. McKay. Start convincing me why I should do business with you and your friends.”

Bryan tried to remind himself that this was the part he liked, working to match the money with the dream. And it was a very good dream this time, belonging to a group of local architects and artists who wanted to revitalize a section of the San Diego-Tijuana border zone. An ambitious building project was in the offing—an innovative cluster of apartment buildings, a commercial district, an artisans’ compound. Bryan explained it all to C. J. Whitfield over broiled bass and asparagus soup. The soup was a mistake. And so, too, it seemed, was C.J.

“Tell me, Bryan. Why did you come to me on this one?”

“You have a reputation for imaginative thinking.”

“I also have a reputation for being filthy rich,” she remarked.

“That, too,” he said easily.

She almost smiled. “Funny thing is, Bryan McKay, you have a reputation for picking winners. But this time…I just don’t see it. For one thing, it’s a lousy location. Nobody wants to go anywhere near that part of town anymore. Nothing you build there is going to change that.”

“This group is going to change a lot of things,” he argued. “They have a certain vision—”

“Oh, no. When people start getting visionary, it always means trouble. Bryan, I’m as idealistic as the next poor schmuck, but I also believe in confronting reality. From what I’ve heard, so do you. Why this fanciful turn of yours?”

She was getting on his nerves, but he didn’t actually have a good answer for her. This wasn’t the first time he’d gambled on an idea that seemed impractical or even impossible at first. But there was something special about this project, something that captured his excitement in a way few other ideas had.

C.J. thumbed through the prospectus he’d handed her. “Sure, all the figures look fine on paper,” she said disparagingly.

Bryan found himself comparing her to Danni, and couldn’t imagine two women more different from each other. Maybe Danni was elusive in her own way, but she was also completely…genuine. Bryan liked the sound of that word. It suited Danni. He couldn’t imagine her deliberately creating an aura of mystery, couldn’t picture her staging an entrance or an exit for effect. Which was what C.J. was doing at the moment—staging her exit. She flicked her hand in the air, and a younger woman who had remained unobtrusive until now materialized to stand a respectful distance away. Bryan wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d curtseyed to her boss.

C.J. tossed the prospectus toward her assistant; the woman turned out to be a good catch.

“I’ll look the figures over again as a personal favor. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up, Bryan, if I were you.”

“Message received,” he said. “I won’t hold my breath waiting for your call.”

She treated him to another of her challenging looks. “Oh, I will call you,” she said. Was she actually flirting with him? Then she rose from her chair and swirled out of the restaurant, assistant in her wake.

Bryan finished his beer, paid the tab and wandered outside. Old Town was best at night like this, the ancient adobe buildings mellow in the golden spill of lanterns. He paused at the tiled fountain in the plaza where passersby tossed their coins for wishes and good luck. The flute music still played from somewhere just out of sight…wistful, restless. Reminding Bryan of Danni Ferris all over again.

When he let himself into his apartment a short time later, the phone was ringing. He picked it up, said hello, and heard her voice. It was oddly subdued.

“Hello, Bryan. I…can’t make it tonight, after all. I’m sorry.”

“What gives, Danni?” He seemed to say that to her a lot.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. And then, all in a rush she continued, “I was supposed to tell you something tonight. But I chickened out. I know that as soon as I tell you…you’ll despise me. And I don’t think I can bear it.”

She had a habit of speaking in riddles. “Come over,” he said. “We’ll talk it out. Nothing can be as bad as you make it sound.”

She was quiet at that, so quiet he almost thought he’d lost the connection.

“Danni,” he asked, “still there?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice low. She paused again. “Bryan what made you show up at my office last night?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“And when you saw me,” she continued, “didn’t anything seem strange to you? Didn’t anything seem different?”

He couldn’t figure out where she was headed. “You seemed,” he said honestly, “more beautiful than ever.”

If he thought he was going to flatter her, he was wrong. The silence on the other end of the line was now potent.

“Danni—”

“Goodbye, Bryan. I can’t see you anymore.” She hung up abruptly, without another word.

He gazed thoughtfully at the phone and then he, too, hung up. “What the hell was that all about?” he muttered.

DANNI FOUND HER SISTER kneeling in the garden, digging up bulbs. Kristine wielded her spade with rather more force than necessary, the rich dark earth building up around her and the poor bulbs tossed aside unceremoniously.

“Didn’t you and Ted plant those together?” Danni asked. “The first year you were married.”

Kristine pushed aside a strand of hair, leaving a dirt smudge on her face. “I’m sick of these damn tulips,” she muttered.

“Kris, you always loved those flowers.”

“It’s time for a change.” Another bulb went flying. “Why, it’s almost Thanksgiving. And then Christmas…and then a brand-new year. A perfect time to completely overhaul my life.”

Danni knelt beside her sister. “Kris—talk to me.”

Kristine ducked her head, the blond hair falling forward again to obscure her face. “No doubt you want to know every little fact about last night. You want to know all about how I confessed to Bryan, and what he said in return, and…and every humiliating detail.”

Danni regarded her sister. “I would like to know that it’s taken care of at last.”

Kristine didn’t even seem to be listening. “Can you imagine what it’s like, Danni? To have a husband who no longer wants you.”

“From what I saw yesterday on the golf course,” she said, “you and Ted may still have a lot to work out. But he still cares about you a great deal. No one could get that angry, and not care.”

“You don’t know, Danni. You don’t know what a man can do to make you feel…completely undesirable. Completely unwanted. After that, there’s not much he can do to convince you otherwise.”

“Kris, what happened? What did Ted do to make you feel this way?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Kristine said, gripping her spade. “I just can’t. I can’t say it out loud…don’t ask me to, Danni.”

Danni had never seen her sister like this. Kristine had been many things in her life—impetuous, thoughtless, self-centered…extravagantly penitent when she realized she’d strained the limits of a friendship. But she had never been this way—so despairing, and so unsure of herself.

“Kris, if you’d only talk to me,” Danni said gently. “Maybe I can help—”

The spade was digging again. “Don’t even try, Danni. All you really want to know right now is what happened with Bryan. Well…I’ll tell you.” She sounded defiant, her words recklessly gathering speed. “I went to meet Bryan last night, and I told him the whole sorry situation. I told him how I’d pretended to be you, and how you hadn’t known anything about it until it was too late. I asked him not to blame you at least. But he wouldn’t listen. He told me…he told me he was disgusted with both of us, and he never wanted to see either one of us again!”

DANNI JUST KNEW it was going to be a lousy Thanksgiving. Of course, that was a safe bet—Thanksgiving at her parents’ house always turned out to be a dismal failure. Every year her mother and father tried a different combination of guests. And every year the result was the same: discreet yawns, embarrassed excuses for leaving early. Of course, Jay and Leah Ferris would never admit that their get-togethers were…well, boring.

Now Danni stood on her parents’ front porch, balancing her usual offerings of sweet-potato casserole and mushroom-sage stuffing. Her mother swung open the door and gave her a hug that almost upended the sweet potatoes. If nothing else, Danni could count on an enthusiastic greeting. She knew she was the success story of the family, the one who had fulfilled all her parents’ expectations. They didn’t even mind that she was thirty and still unmarried. Plenty of time for that later, they always told her. Solidify your career before slowing yourself down with a family.

Leah ushered Danni inside. “Thank goodness you’re finally here. When I found out Kristine and Ted couldn’t make it—”

“Kristine isn’t here?”

“Darling, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Apparently they’ve had some sort of…altercation. Ted flew out to be with his family in Sacramento, and Kristine simply refused to say where she’d be.”

Danni felt a letdown. No matter how angry she got at her sister, she always counted on Kristine to be at family functions. It was the one thing that made these occasions bearable.

Now Danni went with her mother to the kitchen, and set down both casserole dishes.

“Are you all right?” her mother asked with a worried frown. “You don’t seem very chipper.”

At times her mother could be quite observant although her quaint terms often irritated Danni. This time, however, Danni had to admit she did not feel chipper. Ever since those few days ago, when she’d learned that Bryan never wanted to see her again…it had put a damper on her enthusiasm. Regret and sadness would wash over her at the most inconvenient times.

“I’m fine, Mom,” she said with an effort.

“Everything going okay at work?”

Danni had a wild urge to lie—to say that she’d walked out on her advertising job and that she’d decided to become a full-time carpenter. She didn’t say anything, though. She just busied herself at the sink, rinsing the lettuce for the salad. Her mother gave her a sharp look, but then hurried out to the living room to try entertaining her guests.

Two hours later, it was painfully clear that the guests refused to be entertained. Danni glanced around the dining room table. She sat among a few of her mother’s law partners, several more of her father’s management associates, two of the neighbors from down the street. It was not a congenial group. Conversations proceeded in fits and starts, then faded to nonexistence. The turkey was dry, the cranberry sauce tart, the pumpkin pie bland. Danni saw the look of chagrin on her mother’s face, but also knew that she would refuse to give up. Leah was no doubt already calculating a brand-new guest list for Christmas.

Danni picked at her mincemeat pie, only to set down her fork at last. She saw the elderly man on her left give a rather desperate peek at his watch. She knew she should be trying to liven the party; she owed her parents that much. But all she could think about was Bryan. She tried to remind herself that they’d only been casual acquaintances until Kristine had stepped in and distorted everything. But the sense of loss continued to assault her.

Fool, a voice mocked in her head. Maybe it’s true. Maybe you only care about men your sister wants.

She clenched her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to care about Bryan McKay. She scarcely knew him.

“Danni, are you sure you’re all right?” Leah asked. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yes…I’m fine.”

“She works too hard,” Leah confided to someone across the table. There was a note of pride in her voice. Leah herself had worked hard all her life, the first one in her family to get a college degree. No wonder she took her career so seriously, and expected Danni to do the same. If only Danni’s career could provide all the answers…if only it could make her stop thinking about a man she couldn’t have….

She stood abruptly. “Mom, Dad—I’m sorry, but I have to leave.”

The gentleman to her left stole another glance at his watch. “Sorry, but I have to be on my way, too,” he said. There were other relieved murmurs and rustlings around the table.

Danni knew she was responsible for breaking up the party even earlier than usual. Her mother sent her an accusing glare, and she felt guilty. But she just had to get out of here.

Somehow she had to outrun her thoughts of Bryan McKay.

IT HAD BEEN a bad day for Elizabeth. She’d insisted on trying to make Thanksgiving dinner—only to overexert herself, and ending up huddled on the sofa with her famous cornbread dressing and her pumpkin pies only half-done. Bryan had been grateful for the nursing service he’d hired against all her protests. This afternoon, the nurse on duty had come to the rescue—finishing up the dinner, making Elizabeth as comfortable as possible. But Bryan still blamed himself. He shouldn’t have let his mother do all that work. Never mind that she’d been looking forward to it for days. It was up to him to make certain she didn’t overdo it.

Night had fallen, and he’d finally left his mother asleep in her apartment, the nurse still in charge. Now he climbed out of his car and went up the walk to his own apartment. A shape emerged from the darkness next to his door. Danni. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather see. After the way she’d hung up the phone on him the other night, this was an unexpected pleasure. Before she could protest, he put his arms around her.

“You smell good,” he said. His hands moved over her back.

“Bryan, I shouldn’t be here,” she answered. “It’s a mistake. But somehow…somehow I can’t help myself.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said. He unlocked the door and drew her inside. When he turned on the hall lamp, light spilled over her blond hair. Her face had an unhappy look, but he intended to do something about that. He held her close again, kissing her, and he could sense the tension begin to leave her body.

“Bryan…I’ve wanted this….”

“Me, too,” he murmured against her throat. He was impeded by some long, silky scarf she had draped around her neck. She was all dressed up, but he liked her better when she wore jeans. Not to mention her tool belt. He went on holding her…he went on touching her.

She tensed all over again and pulled away.

“Bryan, this isn’t supposed to happen. I just thought if I could see you again…if only for a moment…if I could ask you…”

Clearly she was in turmoil, and Bryan tried to help her. “Ask me anything,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “Bryan, do you find me…desirable?”

“You know I do.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. Not really.”

“I’ll show you.” He brought her into his arms again. And he proceeded to show her. It was a very long while before she broke away again. Her face was flushed.

“No,” she whispered. “I can’t do this! It’s not right.”

He didn’t agree. As far as he was concerned, nothing had ever seemed more right.

“I want to make love to you, Danni,” he said. “I think it’s time.”

She took in a deep, quavering breath. “Oh, Bryan…”

It was several kisses later when he began un-buttoning her dress. Too bad they were very small buttons, and there were so many of them. Meanwhile, the scarf thing kept getting in his way.

“We have to stop,” she said, placing her hands over his. “This isn’t right.”

“It’s right,” he said. “Trust me.” He finally got rid of the scarf. It drifted to the floor, allowing him much better access. He kissed the places he’d managed to expose, and was rewarded with a sigh from Danni. She curled her fingers in his hair.

“Bryan, if you knew what it meant to me…to have a man want me…a man like you…”

“Yes,” he said. “I want you.”

Something sparked in her eyes, a flash of spirit. “It can’t really be wrong. Not when…It just can’t be wrong.”

She was talking in riddles again, but he figured the time for talking was past. He drew her toward the bedroom. She hesitated another second, but then she gave an almost imperceptible nod—as if she’d just won some argument with herself.

And then she came to him.

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