“Ms. Landon! Look this way, please.”

Flash.

“Ms. Landon. Mr. Littrell. Over here.”

Flash.

“How about a kiss for the camera?”

Smiling at the devastatingly handsome man who stood at her side with his arm around her, Genae Landon hissed between her teeth, “Kiss me for these clowns’ benefit and you’ll end up with bloody lips.”

“Darling,” he murmured, a glimmer of laughter in his midnight-blue eyes, “you know how it turns me on when you whisper sweet nothings in my ear.”

A growl rumbled in her throat, but she managed somehow to keep her forced smile in place. For Raylene, she reminded herself. This was all for Raylene.

Another bright flash nearly blinded her and then, to her immense relief, she and Brian reached the limo where a driver waited beside an open door. The paparazzi had already turned their frenetic attentions to the next prominent couple who had just emerged from the theatre.

“Good,” Brian muttered with a glance over his shoulder, “they’ve spotted the Gates. Now Bill can deal with them for a while.”

Gathering her long skirt in both hands, Genae ducked into the limo. She almost whimpered in gratitude when the driver closed the door, and she and Brian were alone in the welcome silence of the vehicle’s luxurious interior. Her fake smile immediately faded, letting her aching cheeks rest.

“I hated that pretentious event. And I think I hate you,” she added, glowering at her escort.

He laughed, showing a flash of white teeth, “You’ve made that clear since the day we met. But you do love your sister.”

She sighed, unable to argue with that. Only her love for her twin could have brought her to this glittering charity even, or involved her in this ridiculous charade she and Brian had been orchestrating for the past two weeks.

She pushed a hand through her spray-stiffened hair, dislodging a crystal-encrusted clip that had been holding a sweep of brown hair from her face. The heavy lock fell onto her cheek, curving below her chin to rest on her shoulder in a semblance of her usual casual layers. Tugging at the low top of her strapless black gown, she nudged off the tortuous high heels she had suffered all evening.

The heavy diamond earrings that had been pinching her earlobes were the next to go; she stuffed them into her evening bag and tossed it aside.

Still immaculate in his crisp tuxedo, Brian watched her shed the sophisticated façade she had grudgingly donned several hours earlier, “Need help unzipping?”

Since she wore nothing beneath the gown but a few scraps of lace, she merely glared at him in response. She thought longingly of jeans, t-shirts and well-worn sneakers--none of which she had on hand at the moment, unfortunately.

“Would you like some champagne?” he asked, motioning toward the built-in bar, “Wine?”

“Got a Pepsi in there?”

“I’ll check.”

A minute later she had a cold can in her hand, having refused a glass. Popping the top, she poured the caffeine-laced, artificially sweetened liquid down her throat. Through the glass partition ahead of her, she could see the back of the driver’s head as he navigated the crowded streets away from the theatre.

After watching her unwind for a moment, Brian asked, “Did you really hate the opera that much? The event was for a good cause.”

“The fund-raiser was certainly worthwhile. Of course, most of the overdressed, anorexic guests preening for the paparazzi could have donated more than the price of a ticket if they’d just tossed in one of the glittering baubles decorating their malnourished bodies--and that was just the men.”

Brian made a funny sound in the back of his throat, but his expression didn’t change, “And the program itself?”

“Opera really isn’t my type of music. I’m sure the performers were very good at what they do, but I can’t say I enjoyed it. Since I didn’t understand the words. I found the story hard to follow--and what I did understand seemed awfully depressing. It just got sadder and sadder and then everyone died.”

“That pretty much sums up the plot,” He murmured, though she suspected he had enjoyed the performance more than she had.

She sighed, “Okay. I’m being ungracious. It’s just that I hate this whole thing. The way everyone watches us and speculates. The catty tittering about Raylene and Jonathan. The security. I really hate the security. Couldn’t we--”

His smiling eyes hardened, “We’ve discussed this. The security is not negotiable. I’m not willing to risk your safety.”

“You don’t really think someone else will decide to try a kidnapping scheme. Do you? Especially since it failed so badly last time, with all three kidnappers now in custody and the mastermind behind the plan still on the run after jumping his bail.”

“I’m relatively confident that Donovan has left the country. I’ve received reports that he was spotted in Mexico and probably has moved to South America. But until I know for sure where he’s hiding, I won’t be entirely satisfied--and neither will Jonathan. And I’m not willing to bet your safety that someone else won’t get the stupid idea of tapping into my money by grabbing someone I care about. So long as we’re together--even if it’s only for the benefit of gossip columnists--you’ll tolerate the security.”

She reminded herself that Brian was a man accustomed to being in command...who wielded a great deal of power in his business and an almost equal amount of influence socially. He was used to giving orders and having them followed without question, so she should get so irritated every time he took that officious tone with her.

It still hacked her off.

“I’ll tolerate the security until after Raylene’s wedding,” she conceded, her voice frosty, “but I don’t have to like it.”

“No,” his smile had returned now, “You don’t have to like it. Or me, for that matter--as long as we keep those feelings just between us.”

The limo hit a bump in the road, causing Genae so slide on the leather seat. Brian reached out quickly to steady her, his hand warm on her bare arm. The strength she sensed in him each time he touched her always surprised her. It belied his appearance of lazy elegance--a façade she suspected he cultivated deliberately so his opponents would underestimate him.

It wasn’t a mistake most people made more than once.

The drive to the Manhattan hotel where they would be spending the night didn’t take long. Genae sighed as the limo glided to a stop at the door. Somehow she was going to have to wedge her feet back into those God-awful heels again.

She groped with her right foot, then scowled when her abused toes throbbed in protest.

“Hell with it,” she muttered, and reached down to scoop up the shoes by their delicate ankle straps, “I’ll carry them.”

Brian’s smile deepened just perceptibly at the corners, irritating her even more. Someday she was going to wipe that smirk right off his face. She was not here to amuse him.

The driver opened the door and extended a hand to her. Ignoring it, she climbed out, clutching her shoes in one hand and the top of her dress with the other. The lock of hair that had escaped the clip tumbled into her face. She blew it back.

She glanced at her perfectly pressed companion, who had moved to her side. Even holding the delicate evening bag she’d forgotten, he looked impeccably masculine--and amused again.

“Now what are you grinning about?”

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes when he gave her a leisurely survey, “You look as though we had quite an...interesting ride,” he said lowly.

Her cheeks flamed as she pictured herself standing there barefoot, her hair and dress in suspicious disarray. The blush probably only reinforced the image of a woman who’d just played tease-and-tickle in the back of a limo. Accidentally catching the eye of a rotund man across the lobby, she saw him raise an eyebrow--apparently in recognition of her escort--and then smile in a way that confirmed her suspicion of the impression her mussed appearance conveyed, “Dammit.”

Even though it was exactly the image they were trying to portray, it still galled her to think that everyone around them was engaged in salacious speculation about what had gone on between her and Brian in the limo--and what would go on between them in the luxury penthouse suite he’d booked for the night. She might have stalked brusquely toward the elevators right then, sending off-putting glares toward anyone who dared catch her eyes, had Brian not slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her firmly to his side.

“We don’t want to give the appearance that we’ve had a spat,” he reminded her, his mouth very close to her ear. Anyone watching them would probably have imagined that he was murmuring suggestions of what he would like to do to her when he got her upstairs, “Play your part,” he added.

She agreed to do this, and she wasn’t going to have anyone--especially Brian--say she hadn’t been good at it. Turning her head just enough so that her lips brushed his jaw as she spoke, she muttered back, “What do you suppose they would think if I ram my elbow into your abdomen right now?”

He chuckled, the sound just a bit husky, “Maybe I’m into the dominatrix scene?”

“Not something I’ve been interested in, myself.” She nuzzled lightly just beneath his ear, “But with you, I just might enjoy wielding the whip.”

He took her completely off guard by planting a firm kiss directly on her mouth, “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said when he finally released her.

He caught her fist an inch from his stomach and, lifting it to his lips, drew her into an empty elevator. He made his moves so swiftly that she was sure no one realized he’d just missed having the breath knocked out of him. But they’d certainly put on a show, anyway, she thought with a stifled sigh.

The moment the elevator doors closed completely, she broke away from him and moved across the small car. Since she couldn’t physically injure him--the darned male was just too fast for her--she contented herself with stabbing him with angry glares.

“Must you look at me that way?” he inquired, “I feel my eyebrows starting to singe…”

“That kiss was completely unnecessary.”

“I thought it added a nice touch.” He actually looked smug as he brushed a nonexistent smudge from his jacket, “I imagine we gave the gossips enough to chew on for a few days.”

“Good. Can we go home now?”

“You wound me with your eagerness to be rid of my company.”

She gave a low snort of exasperation, “And would you please stop talking like a character in a Regency romance novel?”

He laughed and motioned toward the opening elevator doors, “Sorry. Guess I got carried away with the role of devoted suitor.”

“You think?” Holding her chin high--and her shoes tightly--she swept ahead of him off the elevator.

The overall effect was probably diminished somewhat when she stumbled over her long skirt, but she righted herself almost immediately, ignoring the steadying hand Brian held out to her.

Brian had booked a two-bedroom suite. Genae would have insisted on that, of course, but he had done so without asking. She didn’t particularly care what the gossips made of their arrangements, and neither did Brian, apparently. She turned immediately toward the bedroom she had claimed earlier. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No goodnight kiss?”

She threw a shoe at him.

Catching the strappy sandal in one hand, he grinned, “Sleep well, Gen.”

More as a defiant gesture than a belief that the precaution was necessary, she locked her bedroom door after closing it in Brian’s face.

***

Only after changing into an oversized t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, her face scrubbed clean and every trace of hairspray brushed from her hair, did Genae feel more like herself. Now if only she were home...

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she noted that it was past midnight. Yet it was an hour earlier back home. Maybe Raylene would still be awake. She was suddenly almost overcome with the urge to hear her sister’s voice--if for no other reason than to remind herself why she was here.

Sounding wide-awake, Raylene answered on the second ring, “Hello?”

“Hi. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I’ve been going over some paperwork from the store. Jonathan’s helping me.”

Genae imagined that Jonathan’s “help” had only made the task twice as long, but she kept that opinion to herself, “We just got back from that charity opera thing.”

“How was it?”

Dozens of complaints hovered on her tongue, but she settled for just one, “People kept staring at us.”

“Get used to it. Whenever you’re with Brian, people will stare. Even when you’re in a place where no one recognizes him--rare as those places are--there’s something about him that somehow commands attention.”

Genae was well aware of that, of course. She’d often wondered if people stared at Brian because of his extraordinary good looks, or that air of quiet power that surrounded him like a royal mantle. Whatever the reason, it was still unnerving.

“How was the evening other than that? Did you see lots of celebrities in beautiful dresses? Did you enjoy the opera?”

Because the whole point of this charade was to make Raylene happy, Genae had vowed not to complain to her sister. She would save all her gripes for Brian, who deserved them because this whole crazy scheme had been his idea--and just because he was Brian.

“It was fine. And yes, I saw tons of celebrities. I’m sure you would have enjoyed the evening--though I’m not certain Jonathan would have.”

“Probably not. Though he would have gone if he thought I really wanted to be there.”

Genae had no doubt of that. Jonathan Lawver spoiled her sister shamelessly. A battered warrior who didn’t express his feelings easily, Jonathan seemed determined to make a success of this relationship--the first that had truly mattered to him, apparently. Jonathan was almost fanatically loyal to those he cared most about--a very short list topped by Raylene and Brian, his employer and best friend since high school.

Since Raylene’s happiness was paramount to her, too, Genae fully approved of her sister’s choice in men. This time, at least. She hadn’t felt at all the same way when Raylene had been considering marriage to Brian.

The sisters talked a few more minutes and then Genae brought the call to an end. Wandering to a window to gaze out at the colorfully lit city so far and so different from her hometown, she thought about the quiet contentment that was always present in Raylene’s voice these says. Knowing that she was contributing to that happiness, if only in a minor way, gave her mixed feelings. She was glad to be able to help, but now she felt even more trapped in this ridiculous scam.

“Trapped” was a feeling she had grown to know all too well during the past couple of years.

***

So maybe it hadn’t been the brightest idea he’d ever had. Convincing Genae to pretend to be romantically involved with him had been difficult enough--following through with the improbable scheme was proving even more complicated. It didn’t help, of course, that Genae couldn’t stand him.

Sprawled out on his hotel room bed with the TV remote in one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other, Brian mentally replayed the number of close calls he had averted that evening--most notably, the moment when he’d narrowly avoided being drilled in the stomach by her first. She’d packed quite a punch, too. If he hadn’t managed to catch her hand and pull it away, she’d have doubled him over. And wouldn’t that have caught some attention in tomorrow’s gossip columns?

He probably shouldn’t have given in to that impulse to kiss her. But he hadn’t tried very hard to resist. Kissing Genae Landon was something he’d been tempted to do for several weeks now, to his own surprise and her obvious dismay.

After knowing her for nearly six months, he still wasn’t quite sure what it was about him that aroused so much antagonism in her. Her twin had liked him from the moment of their chance meeting last winter when he’d wandered into Mirror Images, the decorating shop Raylene and Genae owned and operated in Little Rock’s River Market district. He and Raylene had struck up a conversation that had continued over coffee and then into several dinner dates.

Less than four months into their relationship, he’d brought up the subject of marriage.

He hadn’t even pretended to be in love with Raylene. He had liked her very much, admired and respected her a great deal. He’d found her attractive, but he knew the difference between simple affection and the passionate love hyped in literature and song. But after carefully observing and studying the few successful marriages among his many acquaintances, he had come to the conclusion that the most enduring basis for a lifelong partnership was genuine friendship.

He’d tried the more popular methods of courtship, letting himself be led by his heart--and other, more primitive body parts. He’d ended up involved in several volatile relationships with beautiful, talented, famous--and usually completely self-centered--actresses and models. He’d thought women already accustomed to fame and fortune would have been more likely to value him for himself rather than what he could give them. He’d been wrong.

Those high-profile disasters had led to embarrassment, disillusion, and the unwelcome attentions of tabloid writers, who had been as intrigued by his dating adventures as they were fascinated by his innate flair for making fortunes.

“I’ve been going about this romance thing the wrong way,” he had concluded to Jonathan during the last Thanksgiving holidays. “I’d never invest in business venture on impulse or emotions. I choose my investments based on rational and carefully determined criteria, all focused on the probability of success. That’s the way I need to select love interests, I guess...someone I like and respect and who feels the same way about me. Someone with similar values and interests, with compatible goals and dreams. Someone who wants a family as much as I do, and who’ll put the welfare of the family ahead of everything else--as I plan to do.”

“What about love?” Jonathan had asked doubtfully, “Passion? All those things that the romantics say should be part of getting married? Not that I ever intend to try it myself...”

That, of course, had been before Jonathan had met Raylene--back when he’d been convinced that he would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life. Brian was the one who had decided he wanted to get married. Who had wanted a family. A home. And when he’d met Raylene, he believed he’d found a perfect potential life mate.

Raylene met nearly every qualification on his carefully thought-out lit--and she had admitted that she, too, had been disappointed with traditional dating rituals. Though only 25, just short of 4 years younger than Brian, she had begun to wonder if she would ever have the children she’d always wanted.

It had seemed like a match made in marriage-of-convenience heaven. According to Brian’s calculations, an alliance between them had better than 80% odds of success--much better than the typical marriage, which stood only a 50/50 chance of lasting.

What he couldn’t have predicted was that Raylene would tumble head-over-heels in love with his second in command--and vice versa--making all Brian’s logical, practical planning worth nothing.

A sudden crash from the other room made him jump to his feet, muscles tensed, senses on full alert. Crossing the room in three long strides, he threw open the bathroom door, poised for a battle if necessary.

Genae was crouched on the floor beside the sitting room wet bar, plucking pieces of glass from the thick cream-colored carpet when Brian burst through his bedroom door. Had she not seen this aspect of him before, she might have been surprised that her rather lazily graceful, studiedly charming companion of earlier had been transformed into this tightly wound, almost dangerous-looking man. Brian had looked just this way when Raylene and Jonathan were kidnapped, scaring the con artist behind the plot so badly that he’d literally feared for his life.

“I dropped a glass,” she said quickly, realizing what had precipitated his tumultuous entrance, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” Moving more slowly now, he crossed the room, bare feet making no sound on the plush carpeting, “Are you okay? Did you cut yourself?”

“I’m fine.” She rose and dropped the shards into a plastic-lined metal wastebasket. They landed with a tinkling, almost cheerfully musical sound.

Though her fuzzy blue slippers protected her own feet, she felt obligated to warn him, “I think I found all the pieces but be careful walking around over here with bare feet.”

He’d changed from his tuxedo into a white V-necked t-shirt and a pair of grey lounge pants. His formerly neatly combed hair was now tousled into unchecked curls. And he looked just as gorgeous as he had in the tailored suit earlier.

She had long since grown accustomed to the unwelcome flutter she felt every time she saw him.

No matter how he was dressed, Brian was undeniably the best-looking man Genae had ever met. Usually she could ignore the sensations, but it was a bit harder in the late-night intimacy of this private suite, with both of them dressed in their ultracasual lounging clothes.

He leaned against one end of the bar, “Having a little trouble unwinding?”

She shrugged and took another glass from the cabinet beside the bar, “I’m just thirsty.”

“There’s a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I like to have a glass before bedtime.”

“Another one of your special requests?” She asked as she opened the door to the small refrigerator built discreetly into the custom woodwork.

“Yes.”

“It must be nice to have everything you want at your fingertips.”

“It is,” he agreed equably. Apparently he wasn’t going to let her push any of his buttons tonight.

He nodded when she motioned with the pitcher, silently asking him if he wanted a glass. She filled an extra one and handed it to him.

He carried the glass to the sofa and sat on one end. After hesitating a moment, she perched on a chair arranged in conversation-group fashion nearby. She thought their casual clothing looked incongruous against the very formal gold-and-cream upholstery, but Brian was obviously accustomed to making himself comfortable in such rooms. He lounged back against the cushions and cross his legs at the ankles on the low mahogany table in front of him.

“Are we still on for our high-profile lunch tomorrow?” he asked, “Or would you rather bail out and go home early?”

She wondered if he suspected how tempted she was to accept that escape, but she shook her head, “You said being seen around town together would strengthen the impression that we’re a couple. That’s what we came here to do.”

“You think you can get through an entire meal without dumping a plate of food in my lap?”

“You think you can get through an entire meal without making me mad enough to dump a plate of food in your lap?” She countered.

He grinned, “I can try.”

Her lips tilted into an answered smile, “Then so will I.”

It was so rare for them to smile at each other that the moment caught her off guard. When she realized that he was suddenly staring at her mouth, her smile faded.

Lifting his gaze to her eyes, he asked, “What is it about me, exactly, that annoys you so much? Just so I don’t end up with food on my lap tomorrow...”

She looked down into her orange juice, “I promise I won’t throw food at you. I know how important it is for us to divert the gossips’ attention way from Raylene and Jonathan so they can plan their wedding in peace.”

“Actually, throwing food at me would be a very effective way of diverting attention to us.”

She wrinkled her nose, “Not the right type of attention, perhaps.”

He shrugged, keeping his gaze on her face, “I’m serious, Genae. What is it about me that you dislike so much? I know you didn’t approve of me as a potential suitor for your sister, but that’s over. So...is it something I said? Something I did? You don’t like the way I walk? Talk? ...Smell?” He chuckled softly at his last thought.

She couldn’t help smiling again, “You smell quite nice, actually.”

“Eternity. It’s all I really wear--my housekeeper picks it up for me all the time when she goes shopping for groceries and cleaning supplies. So I guess I’ve grown kind of fond of it.”

She blinked, “Oh.”

“That surprises you?”

“No...I guess it doesn’t surprise me that you have a housekeeper. Probably one for every house you own.”

“So it’s my money that bothers you.”

She squirmed uncomfortably on the chair, “Let’s just say I’m not accustomed to the kind of wealth and power you command.”

“Would you like me better if I gave it all away?”

Frowning, she shook her head, “No. I mean--”

“So it isn’t entirely the money. It’s me you don’t like.”

She sighed gustily, “I never said I don’t like you.”

“Actually, I believe you said you hated me.”

She gave him a reproachful look, “You know I didn’t mean that. I was just blowing off steam after that awkward evening.”

“So you do like me?”

Making a faint sound of frustration, she set her half-empty glass on the coffee table with a thump, “I barely know you, Brian. You swept into my sister’s life, and almost convinced her to marry you. I didn’t approve of that scheme because I know Raylene deserves better than a businesslike marriage--she deserves the happiness she found with Jonathan.”

“She met Jonathan because of me,” he reminded her.

“She was also kidnapped and put through four days of hell because of you,” She retorted, making him wince, “And now the gossip columnists are titillated by the possibility that Raylene jilted you, one of the richest, most influential men in the country--a man who made the news a year or so ago for breaking up with one of the most beautiful and famous starlets in the world. And now Raylene’s marrying your best friend and business associate, instead. That vicious prattle has mortified Jonathan--who’s so obsessively loyal to you that he almost broke Raylene’s heart rather than risk betraying you with her. And knowing that Jonathan is upset bothers Raylene so badly that it was affecting her joy in planning her wedding.”

“I’m aware that her association with me has caused problems for her,” he acknowledged stiffly, “That’s why I wanted to take some of the pressure off her by leading the gossips away. Since she and I only dated a short time before the press found out about her--so briefly and discreetly that they were never quite such which Landon twin I was with--this seemed like the ideal scheme. Now that Raylene’s engaged to Jonathan and you and I are acting like an established couple, the gossips are beginning to wonder if they had it wrong at the start. If Raylene and Jonathan met and fell in love because you and I were already seeing each other, rather than the other way around.”

“I hope that’s what they believe, anyway,” Genae muttered, thinking that all this trouble would be for nothing if they hadn’t fooled anyone.

"Several are already beginning to speculate in print that the natural confusion that results when two best friends date identical twins is what led to Raylene and Jonathan being kidnapped. They believe Donovan had them snatched because he thought I would pay any amount of money to ensure the safety of my best friend and my fiancée.”

“Which was pretty much what he was thinking. He underestimated you, of course, as well as Jonathan. He didn’t realize Jonathan would escape so quickly with Raylene, or that you had so many resources at your fingertips to track down the identity of the kidnappers.”

“I learned a long time ago that having a lot of money means being targeted occasionally by people who want to help themselves to some of it. That’s why I’ve made security such a priority in my organization.”

“I’m well aware of that,” she muttered, thinking of the discreet, but ever-present bodyguards who had shadowed her so frequently during the past two weeks.

“Cheer up. The wedding’s only a month away. After that, we can cut back on the number of public appearances, and eventually stop them altogether. We’ll simply imply that we’ve drifted apart--though we will, of course, decide to remain friends, since we’ll be seeing each other often through Jonathan and Raye.”

“Once we’ve ended this ridiculous playacting, there’s no reason at all we shouldn’t be friendly towards each other.”

“No reason at all,” he parroted gravely.

She’d amused him again. She supposed she should be used to it by now.

She pushed herself off the chair, “It’s getting late. We’d better be getting some sleep.”

“You’re right,” Following her lead, he removed his feet from the table and stood. He carried his empty glass to the wet bar, stopping to take hers on his way, “I’ll just put these in the sink...”

She had just reached her bedroom doorway when Brian made an odd squeaking sound behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, then grimaced when she saw his expression. She knew immediately what must have happened, “You stepped on a piece of glass, didn’t you?”

He lifted his right foot, leaving a smear of bright red on the cream carpet, “Looks like it...”

***

Brian half expected Genae to chew him out for being careless enough to step on a piece of glass. Instead she hurried toward him, a frown of concern on her face, “Let me see.”

“It’s no big deal. Just a small--”

She already had her hands on him, pushing him toward one of the two tall wooden stools that flanked the bar, “Let me see.” She repeated.

Surprised by her vehemence, he sat and allowed her to bend over his foot. He couldn’t help inhaling rather sharply when she gingerly touched the sharp wedge of glass sticking out of the wound.
Her frown deepening, she pulled her hand back, “I have a small first-aid kit in my room. Sit still and I’ll get it.”

“I’m sure I can--”

Pointing a finger in his face, she huffed, “Do not move.”

He settled more comfortably on the stool, “Yes, ma’am.”

She wasn’t gone long. Returning with a small plastic box, she opened it and laid it on the bar. He could see that it held a thermometer, single dose packs of pain relievers, fever reducer, a small pair of scissors and adhesive bandages in assorted sizes, “You seem to be well equipped for emergencies.”

She had already taken his foot in her hand again, “I like to be prepared. This will probably sting when I remove the glass.”

“I can take it.” Braced for her touch this time, he didn’t even flinch when she eased the glass from his skin. He was somewhat surprised by the gentleness of her touch. Based on his past experiences with her, he might have expected her to be a bit rougher with him. Even when she cleaned the bleeding wound with an alcohol pad, she took such care that he hardly noticed the unavoidable burning, “You’re quite a nurse, huh?”

Reaching for the medicated cream and bandages, she sounded distracted when she answered, “I have some experience. My former fiancé was into rodeo. He thought he was a cowboy,” she rolled her eyes, “I was always patching him up after...”

She stopped midsentence, as if she’d caught herself saying something inappropriate. When she spoke again, it was a brusque, “There. That should keep you from bleeding all over this pretty carpet. The cut wasn’t very deep. I don’t think it will give you any problems.”

He waited until she had turned to close the first-aid kid before asking casually, “Fiancé?”

“Ex-fiancé.” She closed the plastic box with a snap, “And, no, I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Fine.”

“Fine. Can you walk on that foot?”

He stood, paying little attention to the twinge of discomfort. His concentration was focused, instead, on Genae’s flustered expression, “No problem. You’ve patched me up nicely.”

“Yes, well, don’t expect me to make a habit of it. I just felt bad because I was the one who broke the glass.”

He nodded, amused by her gruffly self-conscious tone. Genae was cute when she was embarrassed, though he knew better than to say so aloud. A remark like that could earn him a few more injuries--intentional on her part next time. But it seemed he liked to live dangerously. “I don’t suppose you’d like to kiss it and make it better?”

She lifted an eyebrow and gave him a cool onceover, “Did you just suggest that I kiss your foot?”

He chuckled, “Darlin', you can kiss any part of me you’d like.”

Keeping her chin high, she seemed to make an effort to reply nonchalantly, “Save it for the tabloids, Littrell.”

He was grinning again when she closed her bedroom door behind her with suspicious speed.

Cute, he thought. Genae Landon was definitely cute. Even if she was very likely to drop-kick him if he told her so.

***

“High profile” was definitely the term to describe the lunch Brian treated Genae to just after noon on Saturday. He’d selected a trendy restaurant known for hosting celebrities who wanted to be seen while pretending to be incognito. The chef/owner hosted his own television program and was almost as famous as the majority of his patrons. The most successful gossip columnists had their own regular tables where they could eavesdrop in undisturbed silence.

Brian played to his audience shamelessly, treating Genae to such solicitous attention that she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started spouting sonnets. He kept an arm around her as he escorted her to their cozy little table, sat very close to her, rarely looked away from her. She tried to play her part as convincingly, looking back at him with what she hoped would be perceived as an adoring gaze, but mostly she just felt self-conscious and silly.

“You’re doing fine,” Brian murmured at one point during the meal, as if sensing her doubts. He covered her hand on the table with his own, giving a bracing squeeze, “I doubt that anyone here knows how much you would love to pour your ice water over my head.”

She couldn’t help smiling, “I must be a better actress than I thought.”

Brian was even better. Toying with her fingers with the ease of someone intimately familiar with her body, he murmured, “Love, I imagine you’re very good at anything you put your mind to.”

She hated herself for blushing at that unmistakable innuendo in his tone--and for the shivery little sensations that seemed to be running from her palm, where his thumb was making slow, lazy circles, all the way to the pit of her stomach.

He was entirely too good at this. If she wasn’t careful, she could start believing that he found her very attractive.

She tugged her hand from his, annoyed to realize that it wasn’t quite steady when she reached for her glass, “I think it would be better if--”

“Mr. Littrell. What a nice surprise to run into you today.”

The man who had stopped by their table, interrupting Genae’s words, was tall, slender and very fashionably dressed. His bleached, moussed and sprayed hair swept back from a face tanned in a salon, tucked in a plastic surgeon’s office, and accented with vivid-blue contact lenses and pearly white dental caps. It took Genae a moment to put a name to the striking face; she had seen him a few times on the entertainment channel, where he regularly dished celebrity tidbits and dissed their choice of clothing.

Brian flashed one of his famous smiles, and Genae couldn’t help noticing that he needed no artificial enhancements to make him gorgeous. Nature had taken care of that quite adequately, from his silky blonde hair to those naturally blue eyes in a face that had made many a red-blooded woman go weak in the knees. Genae’s own knees showed a distressing tendency to fail around him--and she didn’t even like him very much. Or so she regularly reminded herself.

After exchanging a few meaningless pleasantries with the other man, Brian turned to Genae, I don’t believe you two have met. Genae Landon, this is Terrence Bishop.”

“Yes, of course. I’ve seen you on television,” she said, extending a hand.

His fingers were cold, his grip a bit weak--or maybe that was only in comparison to Brian’s warm, firm touch. He seemed pleased that she had recognized him, “It’s delightful to meet you, Ms. Landon. Are you enjoying your visit to our city?”

“Yes, very much, thank you.”

She could see him cataloging her simple hairstyle and the scoop-neck cut of her emerald-green blouse and oatmeal linen skirt. He’d also noted the rhythm of her barely noticeable Southern accent, “You’re from Arkansas, aren’t you?” he asked as if he found it hard to believe that anyone would actually choose to live in such a place.

“Little Rock,” she confirmed with a determinedly pleasant nod, “Have you been there?”

“Oh, goodness no.” he appeared to be amused by the very idea, “I seem to always be flying from one coast to the other, with very few stops in between.”

“Then you’ve missed a great many fascinating places,” Brian inserted smoothly, “I grew up in Little Rock, you know, and I still maintain a home there, though I don’t get to spend as much time there as I would like now.”

Bishop’s gaze turned speculative as he looked from Brian to Genae, “I understand you’ve been spending quite a lot of time there lately.”

Brian sent Genae a warm smile, “As much as I can manage.”

“You led the press on quite a chase, you know.” Bishop shook a finger in a gesture of indulgent reprimand, “That was very tricky of you to keep everyone guessing which lovely twin you were actually dating.”

Brian shrugged, “My personal life is my business, of course. Still, I noticed that most got it wrong. You were one of the ones who reported that I was all but engaged to Genae’s sister, weren’t you, Terrence?”

A faint touch of red stained the other man’s throat, but he managed a credible chuckle, “I’m afraid so. And you did nothing to set us straight. You practically confirmed that you were seeing Raylene. But you must admit it appeared as though your old friend swept in and wooed your fiancée away from you. It’s quite a coincidence that you and Mr. Lawver fell for sisters, don’t you think?”

Brian’s grin deepened, “The dreaded love triangle--another bit of gossip fabricated through sloppy reporting. At least you’ve managed to avoid that one--haven’t you?”

“Certainly. I finally remembered how much you enjoy toying with the media. That wicked sense of humor just might lead you into trouble someday.”

“I’ll keep your warning in mind. Yet, while the media was busy trying to figure out the players, Genae and I had a chance to get to know each other in relative privacy, didn’t we, sweetheart?”

She only smiled when he took her hand again.

“So--” Looking searchingly from Brian to Genae again, Bishop asked bluntly, “Can we expect another wedding announcement in the family soon?”

“One wedding at a time is plenty for my family, Mr. Bishop.” Genae replied, “Brian and I are quite happy as we are for now. Isn’t that right, darling?”

He lifted her hand to his lips, “Deliriously.”

Their gazes met and held over her hand. Genae found herself momentarily unable to look away, captured by the gleam of his eyes and the brush of his mouth against her palm. Her fingers curled inward almost instinctively, as if to prevent the kiss from escaping.

Bishop cleared his throat, “Well. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to finish your meal. Perhaps we’ll see each other again soon.”

Brian looked away, breaking that disconcerting moment of connection with Genae, “I’m sure we will.”

“And you will let me know if there are any announcements in the future, won’t you?”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Brian replied with such cheerful insincerity that Bishop was almost sulking when he strolled away.

Brian turned back to Genae, “I think that went well, don’t you?”

His sudden transformation from her loving boyfriend to smug co-conspirator made Genae blink. Pulling herself together quickly, she snarled, “You licked my hand, you degenerate!”

He laughed softly, “I kissed your hand! And you taste delectable--as I suspected you would.”

She scooted nearer to him, gazing at him through her lashes and keeping her voice a low, husky croon, “Brian?”

His gaze fell to her moistened lips, “Mmm?”

Some evil impulse made her lean even closer, well aware that the neckline of her shirt gaped when she did so. In typical male fashion, his gaze dropped slightly lower, “When this is all over--”

“Yes?” He prodded without raising his eyes.

She straightened away from him, “I’m going to have you killed.”

He laughed and reached for his water glass, “It’s always nice to have something to look forward to.”

***

Raylene and Jonathan were waiting at the airport when Genae and Brian arrived in Little Rock early that evening. Raylene rushed forward to greet them, Jonathan following a bit more slowly at her heels.

It still startled Genae sometimes to see the short, fashionably choppy hairstyle her twin had sported for the past few months. They’d always worn similar styles in the paste--and Genae had traditionally been the one to break rank and try something new. They’d stopped dressing alike in elementary school, and had maintained separate apartments for years, but their lives had still been tightly intertwined, both personally and professionally. Genae was well aware that many things would be changing between them once Raylene and Jonathan married and formed their own family.

Raylene hugged her, then stepped back to look at her as though it had been longer than a couple of days since they’d seen each other. “Did you have a good time in New York?”

“It was very nice,” Genae answered without a blink.

Glancing quickly around them, Raylene lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Do you think you accomplished your goal? Keeping the gossips confused about us, I mean?”

Genae smiled with a patience she reserved only for Raylene, “I know what our goal was. And yes, I think we made some progress on that front.”

Brian and Jonathan had greeted each other with slaps on the shoulders--a ritual Genae had always considered the male version of a hug. Brian then turned to Raylene, taking her hand in in both of his and bending to brush a kiss across her cheek, murmuring a complimentary greeting as he did so.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Genae watched the interplay between Brian and her sister, trying to read his expression. Only a few short months ago he had asked Raylene to marry him. Though he’d seemed to accept Raylene’s relationship with Jonathan graciously enough, Genae couldn’t help wondering how he really felt about Raylene now. Surely he’d had some sort of strong feelings for her if he’d actually considered spending the rest of his life with her, raising children with her. Frankly Genae couldn’t imagine anyone not loving Raylene.

But Brian had managed to move on from several previous relationships without ever looking back--at least according to those gossip columnists who’d been making their lives so stressful lately.

They all pretended not to notice the attention they received from others in the airport terminal, though all four were aware they’d been recognized by at least a few. When Brian draped an arm casually around Genae’s shoulders, drawing her closer to him as they headed for the exit behind Raylene and Jonathan, she knew he was making sure they were seen as a couple. She saw Raylene slant them a sideways glance, but she didn’t return the look. If she was going to bluff her way through this, she couldn’t meet Raylene’s eyes.

They went out to dinner, choosing a restaurant that was popular enough to keep them in the public eye, yet quiet enough to allow them to talk comfortably. Though they chatted about Brian and Genae’s trip to New York, they were careful not to even obliquely refer to the purpose of that excursion. They were always aware of the possibility of being overheard.

Genae wondered how Brian could stand living such a fishbowl existence. The average wealthy businessman could live in relative privacy, but Brian, with his looks and influential, highly visible circle of friends and associates, was hardly average. Something about him had drawn interest of the media from the time he’d broken away from his prominent family’s long-successful business holdings to strike out on his own, finding success at a very early age, even in the era of twenty-something multimillionaires. His predilection for beautiful and famous women had placed him solidly in the gossip columns, even though he’d once told Raylene that he’d long since moved beyond that fascination.

Still, a man with his looks, his money and his access to the most exclusive social circles was bound to stir the imaginations of a celebrity-obsessed society, and Brian hadn’t been able to take himself out of the public eye once he’d moved into it. Rather than running from the attention and becoming a privacy-obsessed hermit, he had learned, instead, to manipulate it--as he was doing now with Genae. There were still drawbacks to the fame, of course--the constant awareness of security among the worst, in her opinion, but he seemed comfortable enough with his life as far as she could determine.

She wondered if he’d given up on finding a suitable girl to share that life with, or if he was only waiting until after Raylene and Jonathan’s wedding to resume his carefully calculated search.

Not that she was particularly interested in Brian’s future private life, she assured herself, even as he asked for the benefit of a hovering waiter, “Would you like dessert, sweetheart? The strawberry cheesecake is excellent here...”

The one thing she looked forward to when this farce was over was shoving his pet names right back in his face. Genae was sure no hint of that rather ferocious fantasy was evident when she smiled and murmured sweetly, “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

She could tell from the gleam in his eyes that he’d guessed at least the essence of her thoughts.

They’d been spending entirely too much time together if they were starting to read each other’s thoughts, she promptly decided.

Raylene was watching them again, and for some reason that made Genae uncomfortable. Though they’d never had that eerie psychic bond some identical twins claimed, there were times Genae had to make a real effort to keep Raylene from reading her too closely. There were aspects of herself that even Raylene didn’t know, and Genae kept it that way deliberately. She had always disliked feeling stifled. As much as she loved her sister, there were times when she felt smothered by being half of an identical pair. She had her ways of rebelling, of breaking loose at times, but she kept that part of her life completely separate.

“Don’t forget about your fitting tomorrow afternoon,” Raylene reminded her as the two couples prepared to part after the meal.

Genae wrinkled her nose, “I don’t know why I need to be measured and pinned and fussed over. Just try on my dress while you’re being fitted for yours. If it fits you, we know it will fit me.”

Raylene sighed, “I know you hate fittings, but it won’t take long. You really do need to try the dress on yourself--just in case. Besides, you haven’t even seen it. What if you don’t like it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I like it. It’s your wedding. That gives you the right to choose the maid of honor’s dress.”

“You see how difficult she is?” Raylene complained to the men.

Genae watched as Brian and Jonathan exchanged a quizzical look, “Difficult?” Brian asked tentatively, “She’s letting you make all the decisions. That sounds pretty cooperative to me.”

“Now you’re being difficult,” Raylene accused him with a shake of her head.

Brian turned a questioning glance at Genae, who shrugged, “Bridal jitters.”

He seemed satisfied by that explanation.

The long, busy day had left Genae tired, so that she was very quiet when Brian took her home. He drove her in a car that had somehow become available to him at the restaurant. She no longer questioned how everything he needed seemed to simply materialize at his fingertips.

He lingered in the hallway outside her converted-loft apartment until she unlocked the door. She suspected courtesy suggested that she invite him in for a drink, but she really just wanted to be alone for now.

He seemed to sense her feelings, “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded and turned her doorknob. That might have been the end of the evening had the door to the stairwell at the end of the hallway not opened at that moment, accompanied by a burst of voices and laughter. Brian seemed to react on sheer instinct, reaching out to pull her into his arms without any warning of his intentions. His mouth was on hers before she could ask what the heck he thought he was doing.

Maybe it was the element of surprise that kept her from resisting. Or maybe it was the awareness of those onlookers and the role she had agreed to play for the next few weeks. Telling herself this was only an act and Brian was merely playing to their audience, she forced herself to relax and appear cooperative.

The problem was that it was all too easy to forget this was only an act. Whatever other problems she might have with him, Brian certainly had a talent for clearing an otherwise intelligent woman’s mind of all coherent thought.

The sounds of voices faded away. Genae couldn’t have said whether it was because the newcomers had stopped talking or her ears had simply stopped working. It seemed all she could concentrate on was the way his lips felt against hers, and the warm strength of his arms around her. She found herself clutching his shirt, the fabric gathered tightly in her fingers as she steadied herself. For some annoying reasons, her legs were proving a bit unreliable at the moment.

She must be more tired than she had thought.

She pushed her heavy eyelids upward as Brian drew his lips from hers. His eyes were very close to hers, their expression intense but impossible to interpret. Blinking to clear her vision, she glanced around the hallway to find that it was empty now, her neighbors having discreetly entered their own apartments.

Brian’s arms were still around her. She took a half step backward, bumping against her door. “Well...” she murmured, irked when her voice came out a croak. She cleared it quickly, “I guess that capped the performance for today.”

Just a hint of a smile touched his face, “How about an encore?”

Groping behind her with one hand, she quickly turned the doorknob, pushed the door open and moved another step backward, “Final curtain.”

With a good-natured smile, he straightened, “Goodnight."

She let herself into her apartment and closed the door behind her. And then she sagged against it, listening until his footsteps faded away and the rumble of the elevator indicated he was gone.

Her lips were still tingling from his kiss, her stomach still fluttering like crazy. It had been a long time since she’d been involved with anyone--not since her engagement had ended a year ago, actually. Maybe when this was all over, she should consider getting out more.

***

“Stand still, Genae. You’re making it hard for Mrs. O’Neill to fit you.”

“There’s a straight pin sticking into my butt,” Genae complained, squirming again.

The exasperated-looking, grey-haired woman kneeling beside her made a hasty adjustment, “Is that better?”

“Some.”

“Then why are you still wiggling?”

Genae made an effort to be still, even though she felt very much like a voodoo fashion doll being poked and prodded and peered at.

“You still haven’t told me if you like the dress,” Raylene reminded her from a few feet away in the fitting room of O’Neill’s Bridal Shoppe.

Glancing at the full-length mirror, Genae shrugged, dislodging a tiny waterfall of silver pins. Mrs. O’Neill grumbled something beneath her breath and gathered them up again, “The dress is fine. It’s pretty.”

And it was--a tasteful column of lavender silk accented with a diagonal sweep of tiny rhinestones across the bodice. Pretty--but not a dress Genae would have chosen herself. But it was Raylene’s wedding, not hers, and the decisions were Raylene’s to make. Genae had no intention of arguing with any of them.

Which didn’t mean she couldn’t complain about a few other things, “Ouch!” she said as another sharp tip pricked her skin, this time at her waist.

Mrs. O’Neill finally scowled, the first time she had let her determinedly polite smile fade, “I never stick any of my clients with pins. But I rarely deal with anyone as wiggly and fidgety as you, either.”

“Genae, please be still.”

Genae exhaled gustily, then made a quick grab for the slipping strapless bodice of the still-unfitted gown.

“Doesn’t anyone wear sleeves anymore?”

With a show of severely strained patience, Mrs. O’Neill stuck another pin into the bodice to hold it in place. Genae had the feeling she’d just barely missed being stuck again--this time on purpose.

“I’m still, okay?” She struck a pose, facing the mirror, “I won’t move a muscle.”

Though she looked doubtful, Mrs. O’Neill went back to work quickly, perhaps trying to get as much accomplished as possible before Genae changed her mind.

Staying as motionless as she could, Genae studied the reflection of the slender woman in the sophisticated lavender dress. To keep it out of the way, she had twisted her hair up in the back, making her neck look longer and emphasizing her bare shoulders.

The woman in the mirror didn’t look like Genae.

She looked like Raylene.

“Are you almost finished?” She asked the seamstress. Her voice was strained with the effort of being still when what she really wanted to do was rip the lovely dress off and run naked for refuge.

“Yes.” Mrs. O’Neill sounded almost as relieved as Genae felt, “You can change into your own clothes now. I’ll leave your sister to help you. I, uh, have things to do in the other room."

Raylene stepped behind her twin to ease down the zipper hidden at the back of the dress. “I think you tried Mrs. O’Neill’s patience.”

“She certainly tried mine. Those damn pins--I’m probably going to spring leaks next time I drink a glass of water.”

“Oh, stop complaining. It’s over now. And you looked gorgeous in the dress, by the way.”

Genae tugged on the t-shirt and jeans she’d worn to the fitting then pulled the clip from her hair. She had to glance toward the mirror one more time just to make sure she was back to normal.

Raylene turned to hang the dress on a hook, close to the lacy white dress that hung nearby. Raylene had been fitted into that dress just prior to Genae’s fitting. It was the dress their mother had worn in her wedding thirty-two years earlier. At 5”5, Raylene and Genae were a couple of inches taller than their mother, which had necessitated the addition of a row of lace at the hem of the dress, taken from the mantilla-style veil their mother had worn. Other than that, Raylene wanted no changes made to the pretty, but very simple gown.

It was going to be a sweet, unpretentious, lovely wedding, Genae mused. It suited Raylene perfectly.

Raylene sat on a tiny, padded chair to put on her shoes. Genae flopped on the floor to slide into her sneakers, “So how’s it going with Brian?” Raylene asked, keeping her voice casual.

With a quick glance toward the closed door, Genae shrugged, “He’s playing his part to the hilt,” she murmured, mentally reliving that mind-scrambling goodnight kiss.

“I’m still not entirely convinced this is necessary. It seems like you and Brian are being terribly inconvenienced by...well, you know.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Genae bluffed, “Brian seems to be getting a kick out of it all.”

“He does have a rather odd sense of humor.”

“No kidding. Anyway--it’s been days since I’ve heard any speculation that Jonathan heartlessly stole you away from his best friend.”

Raylene nodded to concede the point, “It has helped. Even the ones who are suspicious about what really happened between Brian and I are hesitant to openly talk about it now because they look foolish when we continue to deny it and refuse to be drawn into further discussion about it. And the society articles about your trip to New York referred to you repeatedly as Brian’s ‘frequent companion,’ which makes it sound like you’ve been seen together often.”

“I can handle being wined and dined for another few weeks. After that, life can get back to normal--for me, anyway.” Even as she made the airy assertion, Genae knew life wouldn’t be the same for either of them, really. Raylene would be married to a man whose career involved a lot of travel and perfunctory social obligations, though not as much of either as she would have faced had she married Brian. Genae expected to find herself dealing with much more responsibility at the shop. She would be the one with no other obligations to interfere with the job.

Tugging at the neckline of her t-shirt, she asked, “Is it hot in here to you? I can hardly breathe.”

“I’m almost ready.” After checking her watch, Raylene stood in front of the mirror and ran her fingers through her just-off-the-shoulder, tousled hair. In her khaki flood pants and fitted red cardigan, she looked neat and refreshed as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. Her own hair still disheveled from the clip, Genae felt rumpled and grubby next to her sister--as she often did.

She sighed impatiently when Raylene lingered to apply lipstick, “We’re going to your apartment, not to the theatre. Would you c’mon already?”

Raylene smiled as she put the lipstick away, “Okay, so I’m primping because Jonathan’s picking us up. I know it doesn’t matter to him if I’m wearing lipstick, considering he fell in love with me while we were lost in a forest, all torn and scraped and covered in mud. But I still like to look nice.”

Genae tried to smile, but it still angered her to think about the ordeal Raylene and Jonathan had endured at the hands of their kidnappers. Genae had tried to talk Raylene out of leaving home that week; she’d had a bad feeling about it all along. Raylene had agreed to spend a week with Brian at his vacation lodge in southern Missouri, with the specific intention of discussing the possibility of an old-fashioned marriage-of-convenience between them. Genae had been adamantly opposed to that plan, believing her sister deserved more than a calculated merger.

She’d been aware that Raylene felt her biological clock had been ticking away, as crazy as it sounded, and apparently Brian had, too--or whatever the male equivalent could be called. But she hadn’t agreed that compatible goals and dreams were enough to sustain a life long commitment. Besides which, she simply hadn’t considered Brian a good match for Raylene. She didn’t know why--but every time she saw them together...well, she simply hadn’t liked it.

When Brian had been delayed by business problems in New York, he had asked his trusted second-in-command, Jonathan Lawver, to escort Raylene to the lodge, where Brian had hoped to join her quickly. Before he could do so, Raylene and Jonathan had been snatched by three kidnappers, taken to an isolated forest hideaway and held for ransom until Jonathan had orchestrated an escape into a million-acre forest. Several days of stormy weather and other daunting obstacles has slowed their rescue. For four days, Genae hadn’t known where her sister was--or if she was even alive.

She shuddered with the memory of that horror. And she acknowledged--if only to herself--that Brian had helped her through that time. He’d allowed her to vent her fear, impatience, and her anger--and he’d given her strength by being calm, steady and ferocious in his determination to find his friends and the people who had taken them. When he’d uncovered evidence that one of his business competitors, Charles Donovan, had been the mastermind of the scheme, he’d personally confronted him.

Watching the encounter, Genae had seen exactly how intimidating Brian could be when he dropped the affable façade he wore in social situations. Donovan had literally been in fear of his life when he’d been pinned to the wall by the neck, and had reluctantly confessed everything--and Genae hadn’t blamed the man for being concerned for his own safety.

But Raylene was safe, she reminded herself with a glance at her twin’s happy face. She had abandoned the foolish idea of a convenient marriage in favor of a match based on true love. And Genae was doing her part to facilitate a happily-ever-after ending--for her sister, if not for herself.

Following Raylene out of the fitting room, she slung her oversized leather bag over her shoulder and muttered, “I still don’t think it was necessary for Jonathan to drive us here and pick us up. We’re perfectly capable of getting around on our own.”

“He wanted to,” Raylene answered with a shrug, “He’s still being a little overprotective, but that will change after the wedding. I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on it.”

Genae knew she would quickly grow tired of being coddled and protected. She felt stifled enough now; being hovered over the way Jonathan did Raylene would drive her nuts.

Which was why it was just as well she was single and unattached, she assured herself. She needed to be free. She wasn’t the type to be tied down to any man. She’d learned that fact the hard way--with a wannabe cowboy named Kalob.

***

The sidewalks of Little Rock were crowded late Tuesday evening as Brian strolled toward Mirror Images. Tuesdays and Saturdays were the area’s busiest days during the summer. On those days, vendors gathered beneath the River Market pavilions to sell fresh produce, herbs, breads, flowers and other wares. Serving as a backdrop for the activities, the Arkansas River glittered with reflections of the bright July sun overhead. Locals and tourists in shorts and sandals ambled along the sidewalks, some carrying bulging bags of fresh fruits and veggies, others just window-shopping and enjoying the summer day.

A group of children in matching orange shirts emblazoned with the name of a local daycare center dashed toward him, most likely headed toward the Museum of Discovery at the end of the block. Brian sidestepped the chattering herd adroitly, nodding sympathetically to the adults trying to keep them under control.

He paused to study a grouping of paintings displayed on the sidewalk next to the River Market building, which housed several food stands and restaurants and gift shops. The artist, a striking black woman in a flowing dress and a big straw hat, had chosen vivid colors for her scenes of tropical marketplaces and fishing villages. One canvas in particular caught his attention. He stood in front of it for several minutes, enjoying the colors and the overall impression of cheery, bustling activity. It reminded him of a marketplace he’d visited in Jamaica; he could almost hear the lilting voices and the street musicians in the background.

Ten minutes later, he was on his way again, having left directions with the artist to have his newly purchased painting delivered to his Little Rock office. Brian wasn’t usually an impulse buyer, but he knew what he liked when he saw it, and he was fortunate enough to be able to afford what he liked.

Yet all that money hadn’t helped him find anyone with whom to share his interests. In fact, it had proven a definite hindrance, drawing too much attention to his tentative relationships, and raising doubts about the true motives of the women who had shown an interest in him.

Chiding himself for letting such maudlin thoughts shadow his enjoyment of the nice day, he crossed the street toward the entrance of Mirror Images. Big windows on either side of the door were artfully arranged with uniquely shaped mirrors, framed prints, unusual candlesticks and other decorative wares. The display had drawn its share of attention; several potential customers were milling in the shop when Brian entered. In response to the chime of the bell above the door, Raylene approached with a polite smile that warmed him when she recognized him, “Morning, Brian!”

It was easier to tell the twins apart now that Raylene had cut her hair differently--not that Brian had ever had much trouble recognizing them. Their personalities were so different that he had usually been able to distinguish them by their expressions alone. He took Raylene’s hand, planting a dramatic kiss on it, “Morning. You look beautiful, as always.”

“And you’re full of flattery...as always.” She retorted, though she looked pleased by the compliment, “What’s up?”

“I had a rare couple of hours free...thought I’d pop in to visit. If I’m not interfering with your work, of course.”

“'Course not. Justin can handle the sales floor for a few minutes,” Raylene replied with a nod toward her salesclerk, “He’ll call for me if he needs any help. Come have some coffee with me.”

Aware of the attention they were receiving from her customers, he accepted promptly, “Sure.”

The small office Raylene shared with her sister never failed to elicit a grin from Brian. Raylene’s side of the room was neat, organized, not a sheet of paper out of place; Genae’s desk was so cluttered it was a wonder she could find her chair. Above Raylene’s desk hung a framed museum print of a Monet water lilies painting. Genae’s poster depicted a shiny ebony Thunderbird convertible. She’d told him once that she’d love to own one, someday. Brian had impulsively offered to buy her one as compensation for her inconveniences because of his scheme to take media attention from Raylene and Jonathan. Genae had let him know in clear and concise terms that she’d fulfill her own dreams, thank you very much.

His amusement turning wry with the memory, he asked casually, “Where’s Genae?”

“It was her turn to run errands--the bank, the post office, the office supplies store.”

Brian wouldn’t admit to Raylene, of course, that he’d been disappointed that Genae wasn’t there when he arrived. It was disconcerting enough to acknowledge to himself that it was Genae who had drawn him here today, “How’s she holding up?” he asked, “With the scam we’re pulling off, I mean.”

Raylene wrinkled her nose as she removed two mugs from a small cabinet at one corner of the room, “She fusses about it, of course. But Genae does love to fuss.”

He chuckled, “I’ve noticed.”

“And she is not happy that one of your men is following at a discreet distance while she runs her errands.”

“Tough. Fussing won’t do her any good when it comes to her security--not while I have anything to say about it, anyway.”

Genae poured coffee into the two mugs, “Dad used to call us Sissy and Sassy. I was Sissy, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway, he stopped calling us that when we were about twelve. Genae threatened to run away if he didn’t.”

“And, knowing her, she would have followed through on that threat.”

“Daddy must have thought so. He dropped the nicknames.”

There had been a time when Brian had considered Genae’s mercurial, temperamental tendencies annoying. Yet the better he got to know her, the more he enjoyed being with her. And the better he understood her. If from early childhood she had been known as the “difficult” twin, it was certainly understandable that she’d gotten into the habit of living up to the reputation.

There was something else, too. Some hidden part of her that he hadn’t quite figured out yet. He was becoming more determined all the time to try.

“What about you?” Raylene asked, handing him his coffee, “Are you growing tired of the charade yet? You know, of course, that you can stop anytime if it’s becoming too uncomfortable for you. You’ve already diffused a great deal of the gossip that was upsetting Jonathan so badly a few weeks ago.”

“True--but there’s no need to risk having it resurface before your wedding. Besides, I’m rather enjoying keeping the tattle mongers guessing.”

“I know you love playing practical jokes, especially on the tabloid writers, but you’re spending a lot of time with my sister--who, you have to admit, has not been your biggest fan in the past and isn’t shy about expressing her feelings.”

He sipped his drink, then spoke lightly, “I don’t minding spending time with her. She’s certainly...challenging.”

Raylene laughed, “She is that. Gen is rarely boring, you have to give her that.”

“She’s never boring,” he corrected with a smile.

Studying him speculatively over the rim of her mug, she muttered, “You sound as though you’re starting to like my sister.”

“Of course I like her. I’ve always liked her--even when she fantasized about hiring some big beefy guy named Bubba to make me conveniently disappear from your life.”

Raylene laughed, “Now you’re exaggerating. She was simply concerned that we were acting impulsively when we discussed the possibility of marriage--and it turned out she was right. You know full well that you would have changed your mind, but you were polite enough to let me be the one to put it into words.”

Brian had asked himself several times if he would have actually married Raylene had she not fallen in love with Jonathan. It had seemed like a good idea; they had both been eager to be married and have families. He had finally convinced himself that a marriage of minds, rather than emotions, was the only solution. Maybe his background had left him unprepared for anything else.

His own parents’ marriage had been a profitable merger between two business dynasties. Once they’d done their duty and produced an heir to the “throne”, they’d been more than happy to pretty much go their own ways. Divorce had never been an option; since neither interfered with the other, there’d been no need to put an end to their partnership. The marriage had actually been a convenient excuse for both of them, since neither had been interested in marrying again. Brian had grown up knowing that his parents loved him, in their own busy, distracted ways, and tolerated each other when it was socially necessary, though they got along just fine.

The telephone on Raylene’s desk rang suddenly, interrupting his reminiscences. She answered with her professional voice, but then her tone warmed. Brian knew immediately who was on the other end of the line. He’d never seen Raylene react this way to anyone but Jonathan.

She’d never felt even remotely the same way about him.

“I can leave as soon as Genae comes back,” he heard her say into the phone, “It should be no more than half an hour.”

Brian stood, intending to leave her to finish her call in privacy, but she stopped him with a motion of her hand, “I’ll see you in half an hour.” she told her fiancé, then disconnected the call.

“Jonathan just called to see if I’m free for lunch,” she explained to Brian after returning the receiver to its cradle, “You don’t have to rush off.”

He remained on his feet, “I’ve kept you from your work long enough. I just wanted to say hello...” he motioned to his mug as he sat it down in the mini sink along the wall, “Thanks for the coffee.”

She rose and moved closer, smiling, “I enjoyed the visit. You’ve always been a good friend...I’m glad we’ve been able to maintain that relationship after all...this.”

“So am I.” He replied immediately, “And since the man you’re marrying is like a brother to me, we’re almost family anyway.” He allowed a smile.

Her own smile deepened, “I like that.”

“So do I.” Feeling rather as if he was officially sealing the new status of their friendship, he leaned over to brush a kiss against her cheek.

“Sorry. Am I interrupting?”

Genae’s dry question drew their attention toward the doorway. Raylene had left the door partially ajar, so neither she nor Brian had heard Genae open it. She stood in the doorway now with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed as she looked from him to Raylene and back again.

Moving a step away from Raylene, Brian nodded, “Hey, Genae, how’s it going?”

“Fine. Raylene, Justin needs you at the counter. Something about a special order for someone...”

“Oh, right. I’ll go take care of that before Jonathan comes to take me to lunch.”

Still giving Brian a look that made him feel as though he should shuffle his feet and apologize for something--anything--Genae moved out of her sister’s way. She stepped back into the doorway before Brian could follow Raylene out, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too. You look great, by the way. I’ve always liked you in blue.”

Genae’s reaction to his flattery was just the opposite of her sister’s. She seemed to grow even more suspicious of him, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why am I here? I had a couple free hours--okay, actually I ducked a meeting that seemed both pointless and boring. I took a walk through the market district and ended up here. Raylene poured some coffee for me and we had a nice chat. Would you like a transcript of our conversation?”

She didn’t respond to the lame jest except to glare even harder, “It doesn’t look right--you kissing my sister when she’s engaged to someone else.”

“Jealous?” He shot back, holding on to his patience with an effort.

Her cheeks flamed--a response he found quite interesting, “Don’t be an asshole. I’m just thinking about what the gossip columnists would write if someone reported to them that you were kissing Raylene in her office. The whole point of this game we’re all playing is to defuse any talk about you and my sister, remember?”

“It was a friendly peck on the cheek, nothing more. No one saw us except you--and I doubt you’re going to alert the media. And I’m tired of standing here defending my actions to you. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.”

She moved slowly out of his way as he approached, “I simply...”

He didn’t want to hear any more lecturing from her at the moment, “See you around.” He muttered.

On an impulse, he stopped in front of her and reached out to thread his fingers into her hair, pulling her to him. He crushed his lips to hers before she could guess his intentions, “Report that to the media,” he murmured after he released her, then turned and made a hasty exit.

Genae wished she could spend Thursday evening scrubbing floors. Or paying bills. Even cleaning bathrooms seemed preferable to yet another evening socializing with the rich and semi-famous.

This time it was a political fundraiser at an exclusive Little Rock country club. The governor would be there, along with a gaggle of other politicians, several notable business leaders, a few sports heroes and Arkansas-born celebrities, and a military dignitary or two. Genae figured she would be as out of place there as a cat at a dog show, but she had made a commitment and she wouldn’t back out--no matter how badly she might want to.

Dressed in a sleeveless black silk cocktail dress--her limited wardrobe was going to have to force her to go shopping soon if she had to keep attending these glitzy events--she entered the ballroom at Brian’s side. It had been somewhat awkward between them so far. Brian was in one of his annoying, teasing-and-flirting moods, and she was still sulking over that parting kiss on Tuesday in her office. He’d left her sputtering for a snappy comeback and mentally kicking herself for not physically kicking him. And he’d probably guessed everything she was thinking, the jerk.

Conversations in the ballroom were discreetly muted, with only an occasional burst of laughter here and there. An orchestra played elevator-suitable show tunes, and unrecognizable, but probably very expensive, hors d’oeuvres were artfully arranged on tables decorated with candles and ice sculptures--a potentially unfortunate combination, in Genae’s opinion.

Everyone in the room seemed to be on a first-name-basis with Brian--including the governor. They spent what seemed like a few days circling the room, swapping greetings and meaningless pleasantries and incredibly lame jokes.

“You can stop smiling now,” Brian murmured when they had paused in a dim corner after making the obligatory rounds, “No one’s looking.”

“No,” She snapped back, “I can’t. My face is permanently stuck in this stupid expression. It’s going to be like this for the rest of my life, and then I’m going to die and lie in my coffin grinning insanely at all the mourners who pass by.”

He laughed and looped an arm around her shoulders, “Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure I’ll do something to wipe that smile from your face soon.”

“Watch that roving hand.” She growled.

He chuckled again and moved his hand to a more innocuous position, “What did I tell you?”

“Can we leave yet?”

“Darling, we just got here.”

“It feels as if we’ve been here for a week. And do you have to call me darling every ten seconds or so?”

“Of course not. Sweetheart.”

Because punching one’s escort in the stomach was considered impolite, and because she had made a vow to herself to be on her best behavior that evening, Genae decided to let that one pass.

She happened to be looking at Brian when his smile suddenly froze, then slowly faded, “Well, hell.”

Her left eyebrow rose, “What’s wrong?”

“My parents just walked in.”

Turning to follow the direction of his gaze, she tried to spot a likely couple among the well-dressed crowd. She’d never met Brian’s parents, and he rarely spoke of them, at least to her, “I take it you weren’t expecting them?”

“I thought my dad was on a fishing trip in Belize.”

He didn’t seem particularly pleased to find out otherwise. Genae turned to study his expression, which was difficult to read, “You don’t get along with your parents?”

With a slight shrug, he replied, “We get along fine. Dad’s still a little annoyed with me for leaving the family business to go off on my own, but he rather enjoys the bragging rights that go along with my success. My mother has always had a fascination with celebrities, so she’s always nagging me to introduce her to movie stars and supermodels--even the ones I’ve never met. She knows everyone in the local social community, of course, and she’s always fantasized about mingling with the Hollywood elite--something my father couldn’t care less about.”

“Maybe you should have brought one of your starlet girlfriends tonight--for your mother’s sake.”

He responded to her flippant quip with a scowl, “I don’t happen to have any ‘starlet girlfriends’ at the moment.”

“I doubt that would have proven much of a handicap to you. I’m sure there are numbers you could call...”

Something glittered in his eyes that might have been a warning, but his smile didn’t waver when he said, “Why would I want to be here with anyone else but you, darling?”

Before she could answer, a woman’s voice crooned, “There you are, Brian. I wasn’t sure we’d see you here this evening.”

Genae looked around curiously, studying the couple who had approached them. She knew their names--Harold and Jackie Littrell. They were an attractive couple, as she might have expected, considering Brian’s good looks. She assumed they were in their early fifties, but both were in excellent condition. Harold wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he was straight and lean, his slightly silvered hair swept back from a softly tanned and strong-planed face. Brian had inherited his bone structure and piercing blue eyes from his father, Genae decided, but his charming smile had come straight from his mother.

Slender to the point of angularity and a couple of inches shorter than Genae, Jackie had kept her hair a dark ash blonde, worn in short waves around a carefully made-up face that bore few lines. Genae suspected that this woman was on very close terms with at least one cosmetic surgeon, but she couldn’t deny that the efforts had paid off. Jackie certainly barely looked old enough to have a son who was pushing thirty.

“Actually, I’m surprised to see the two of you here.” Brian said in answer to his mother’s greeting.

“Dad, I thought you were in Belize. And, Mom, weren’t you going to France with a group of your friends?”

“My fishing trip fell through,” Harold explained, “Bob Wheatley had a heart attack last week. Since the reservations were in his name, Stephen and I decided it would be better to cancel than to try to rearrange everything.”

It seemed to Genae that he was more irked by the inconvenience of changing his plans than concerned about his acquaintance’s health. Maybe Brian was thinking along the same lines when he murmured, “I’m sorry to hear about your friend’s illness. I trust he’s recovering?"

“Oh, sure, he’ll be okay. The doctors did a couple of bypasses and they’ll be sending him home in a couple of days.”

“And what about your trip, Mom?”

“That’s been rescheduled until next month because of a problem with the tour service.” Apparently losing interest in the conversation, Jackie glanced at Genae then, “I’m sorry, we’re being rude. You must be Raylene.”

Brian sighed, “This is Genae, Mother. Raylene is her sister...she’s engaged to Jonathan.”

“Yes, of course.” Jackie didn’t seem at all embarrassed by her gaffe as she touched her fingers to Genae’s hand, “An understandable mistake, of course. The columnists linked your name with Raylene’s for several months before you corrected them about which twin you were actually seeing.”

“I’ve warned you about believing everything you read about me in tabloids.”

Her smile was tight-lipped, “How else am I supposed to find out about your social life? You certainly never tell me anything.”

“He probably doesn’t consider his personal life any more of your business than the gossip columnists.” Harold said bluntly. And then he nodded toward Genae, “Nice to meet you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with the senator.”

Genae had seen more warmth between Brian and his business associates than he’d shared with his father. She looked at him through her lashes, wondering if his relationship with his parents had always been so strained.

Jackie spoke to her son again after her husband moved away without a backward glance at her, “Have you seen that lovely young actress lately, Brian? The one who won the Academy Award for--”

He pulled Genae closer, “She didn’t win the award, Mom. She was only nominated. And I haven’t seen her--or anyone else--since Genae and I got together.”

“I see.” She eyed Genae speculatively, “Are you originally from Little Rock? Do I know your family?”

“No, I grew up in Searcy. My parents still live there.”

“Oh? What do your parents do?”

“My mother’s an elementary teacher and my father sells insurance.”

“I see.” And she couldn’t have been less impressed.

Brian’s arm tightened around Genae’s waist, his voice was terse when he spoke, “Genae and her sister co-own a decorating accessories shop in the River Market district. They’re quite popular with local decorators because they carry such interesting selections. You would probably love it.”

“I must make a point to drop in sometime.”

“I would love for you to do so,” Genae lied in reply.

“Oh, there’s the first lady. Dreadful color she’s wearing, isn’t it? Ah, well...excuse me, I have to go speak with her. Her feelings will be hurt if I don’t.”

“Actually, I think the poor woman would be relieved,” Brian muttered into Genae’s ear, “My mother is a snob, but she’s not as bad as the first impression she gives.”

“I have a feeling she would have been friendlier if I had an Oscar on my mantle,” she answered wryly.

“She just sulking because I haven’t kept her up-to-date on who I’m seeing, and that keeps her out of the gossip loop. I never discussed Raye with her because I didn’t want to talk about my plans until Raylene and I had a chance to get to know each other.”

What he meant, Genae decided, was that he hadn’t wanted to mention Raylene until he knew whether she would marry him, “So your own mother doesn’t know for certain that you were dating Raylene before she met Jonathan?”

“No.” He said with a quick glance around to make sure she hadn’t been overheard, “And neither will anyone else--unless you broadcast it tonight.”

Fully aware that no one was close enough to overhear, Genae only shrugged, “I suppose you haven’t told your parents why you’re now taking pains to be seen with me?”

“No. I saw no reason to discuss that with them, either.”

“So they probably believe what they hear through the grapevine--that you and I are involved in a serious relationship.”

The discussion seemed to be making him increasingly nervous. He was standing so close to her that she spoke almost directly into his ear; an eavesdropper would have to step between them to overhear. To everyone else, it would probably appear that they were engaged in an intimate conversation. Still, Brian made it clear that he’d rather not talk about their relationship--or lack of one--under those conditions, “Would you like to dance?”

“Not particularly.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

She stifled a sigh and allowed herself to be towed to the dance floor.

***

The one redeeming aspect of the fundraiser, in Genae's opinion, was Brian’s dancing talent.

Despite her initial rejection of his offer, she loved to dance, and wasn’t able to do so very often. It was nice to have a skilled partner who seemed to enjoy the activity as much as she did.

They danced the rest of the evening away. Maybe it was because Brian was trying to avoid further stilted conversations with his parents--or trying to spare Genae from the chore. Or maybe it was the novelty of finding something they could enjoy together without underlying friction that usually existed between them. They even laughed together while they experimented with intricate dance steps. And when the movements brought them close, their bodies brushing as they moved slowly to some blatantly romantic arrangement...well, that was nice, too.

A bit too nice, as far as Genae was concerned. She had to keep reminding herself not to confuse make-believe with reality.

“You never told me you were such a good dancer,” Brian murmured into her ear as the orchestra played a sultry rendition of “You Go To My Head”.

“Should I have included dancing on my résumé for you?”

He chuckled, making his chest vibrate pleasantly against her, “I have a feeling there are several tidbits on that résumé that I would find interesting.”

“I doubt that mine would be half as interesting as yours.”

“Maybe we’ll compare notes someday.”

She decided to let that suggestion pass.

Looking over his shoulder, she said, instead, “I see your father is dancing with the senator’s wife.”

A muscle twitched in Brian’s jaw, “Is he?”

“You find that surprising?”

“Not really. My father has always had a thing for staying on friendly terms with his exes. Too bad I didn’t inherit that talent--my relationships all seem to crash and burn.”

“You and Raylene have certainly remained good friends.”

“But Raylene and I were never involved in what you would call a real relationship.” He reminded her in a low voice.

Because other couples were dancing nearby, she said no more about her sister, asking instead, “So your father dated the senator’s wife before he married your mother?”

Brian nodded, “Yes.”

“Oh.” She looked again at the attractive brunette dancing with his father.

“My parents have a very modern and sophisticated marriage,” Brian added dispassionately, “Discreet dalliances are allowed--even encouraged--as long as they’re conducted quietly and carefully.”

Genae gave Brian a hard look, “If that’s what your family considers a marriage, I’m even more relieved that Raylene met Jonathan.”

“I said it was my parents’ idea of marriage, not mine.”

She thought about that as the music ended and they moved a few steps apart. Brian implied that he wanted a more traditional marriage than what his parents had, and yet he’d never pretended to be in love with Raylene, even when he’d proposed to her. He’d described a marriage based on friendship, affection, a mutual desire for children--but romance had nothing to do with it.

From what she’d seen of his parents, it was no wonder he was confused about what a real marriage was supposed to be. She thought of her own parents who had recently celebrated their thirty-second wedding anniversary. They’d married for love and had kept the promises they’d made to each other through good times and inevitable hard times. And they were still the best of friends.

That was the type of marriage Genae wanted for Raylene and Jonathan. It was what she had hoped for when she’d become engaged to Kalob--until she’d belatedly realized that his idea of a wife was someone who catered to his every whim, and made herself over to suit him. Genae had found herself incapable of becoming that person--not even to please the man she’d thought she loved.

“All this dancing has made me thirsty,” Brian commented, “Why don’t I find us a couple glasses of champagne?”

She nodded, “I’d like to freshen up a bit. I’ll rejoin you in a few minutes.”

His wicked smile made a sudden reappearance when he caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, “I’ll be counting the moments until you’re with me again. Hurry back.”

She sighed, “Stuff it in your ear, Littrell.”

His low laugh followed her as she turned and marched away.

She was standing in front of a gilt-framed mirror in the crystal-and-marble appointed ladies’ lounge with a tube of lipstick in her hand, when a tall brunette approached her, “You’re here with Brian Littrell, aren’t you?”

After recapping the lipstick, Genae dropped the tube back into her tiny black evening bag, “Yes, I am.”

“I’m Katherine Stanley.”

“Genae Landon. Are you a friend of Brian’s?”

“Oh, no, I don’t travel in his circles. I’m a financial reporter for the state newspaper. I’ve written quite a bit about his business ventures, and I met him once at a business seminar, but I doubt that he would even remember me.”

“You might be surprised. Brian has a phenomenal memory for names and faces.” Especially, Genae would guess, if the face in question was this pretty.

Katherine shrugged modestly, “Perhaps. Anyway...what’s it like being involved with him?”

Genae concentrated on fastening the clasp of her purse, “I, um...”

“Oh, I’m not angling for gossip to print in my column. That’s not what I write. I’m afraid I simply let curiosity overcome good manners.”

Genae gave the other woman a slight smile, “I’m getting used to that, I guess. Brian seems to arouse a great deal of curiosity.”

Katherine nodded, then broke into a rueful grin, “You have to admit the man is flat-out dazzling.”

Genae laughed softly, “Okay, I’ll give him that.”

“It must be difficult for you--being the center of so much attention, reading all that silly tabloid gossip about whether Brian was dating your sister before you.”

“It does get tiresome,” With one last glance in the mirror, Genae turned toward the door, “Nice to meet you, Katherine.”

The other woman spoke quickly, “You might mention to Mr. Littrell that you met me. I would love to interview him for the financial section sometime. No gossip, just straight business talk.”

Genae shrugged and motioned toward the door, “Come ask him yourself.”

Looking suddenly nervous, the reporter cleared her throat, “You mean now?”

“He’s here, you’re here. Why not now?”

“Well, I, um...”

Genae had never expected to meet a shy reporter. Apparently Katherine had used all her courage by introducing herself to Genae. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you again.”

If there was one thing she could guarantee about Brian, it was that he was unfailingly gracious in social situations. Even if he preferred not to be interviewed for Katherine’s newspaper, he would decline politely. He might be surprised that Genae was helping a reporter after she’d been so careful to avoid them lately, but Katherine was hardly a tabloid tattle monger. Genae rather liked this one.

Brian had commandeered a small table. He waited there with two flutes of champagne and a dessert plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries--one of Genae’s favorite treats. He rose when he spotted Genae and her newfound companion.

Plucking a strawberry from the plate, Genae said, “Brian, this is Katherine Stanley. She’s a financial reporter.”

Flashing one of his patented smiles, Brian reached for the other woman’s hand, “Yes, we’ve met. It was a the Arkansas investors’ seminar last spring, wasn’t it?”

The young woman seemed stunned that he had recognized her, even though Genae had predicted that he would, “Yes, my editor introduced us in passing.”

“Would you like some champagne?”

“No, thank you. I have to get back to my friends. I met Ms. Landon in the ladies’ lounge and when I mentioned that I would like to do an interview with you sometime, she invited me to accompany her.”

Brian glanced at Genae, who was thoughtfully enjoying the biggest, sweetest strawberry she’d ever tasted and pretending not to listen to his conversation with the reporter, “My schedule’s rather full at present, but I’m sure I can make time for a brief interview. Call my office next week and talk to my assistant. I’ll tell her to expect your call.”

Visibly delighted, Katherine thanked him and then thanked Genae, “It was so nice to see you both. I think you make a great couple,” She added artlessly as she turned to rush away.

Brian lifted his champagne flute to Genae in a mini-salute, “To us--a great couple.”

“A compatible team,” she amended, “at least for now.”

She sipped the champagne, telling herself she would be glad when there was no further need for this temporary partnership. And trying very hard to believe it.

Despite her perfunctory assertion that there was no need for him to walk her all the way to her door, Brian escorted Genae to her apartment after the fundraiser. He hadn’t forgotten the last time they had stood outside this door, when the sudden appearance of her neighbors had generated an impulsive goodnight kiss between them. Judging from Genae’s posture, she hadn’t forgotten, either.

He’d thought of that kiss--and the reasons behind it--several times since that night. True enough, they’d agreed to keep up the charade of an intimate relationship whenever outside observers were around. Her neighbors would have expected him to kiss her before leaving her for the evening. And yet, he was fully aware that he’d wanted to kiss her then, and had seized the first excuse to do so.

He wanted to kiss her again now.

“I had a very nice time with you tonight,” he said, testing her mood in the elevator.

She blinked a couple of times, as if the sound of his voice had roused her from deep thought, “I, um...what did you say?”

Wondering what she’d been pondering so intently, he repeated his comment.

“Oh. Well, the evening wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. I enjoyed the dancing.”

It was exactly a glowing endorsement of the event, but coming from Genae, it was close. “I was a bit surprised that you brought a reporter to our table.”

“I kind of liked her. Besides, she’s a real reporter, not one of those sleezy tabloid writers. Maybe if the media starts concentrating on your business again, they’ll stop focusing so intently on your private life.”

“I agree. Most of that attention came from the ‘America’s Most Eligible Bachelors’ article that was published last year. It was right after that absurd list that gossip started going around that I was seriously dating someone here in Little Rock, thinking about getting married, maybe. Now that so much of the columnists are feeling foolish because they can’t say with absolute certainty which twin I met and dated first, they’ve almost stopped saying anything at all about me.”

“Great,” she said a bit too heartily as the elevator doors slid open, “Then we’ve accomplished what we set out to do.”

He followed close behind her down the hallway toward her apartment, “That’s true--but we don’t want to abruptly stop seeing each other now, especially not before the wedding. That could start the gossip all over again.”

She sighed, “I guess you’re right,” she conceded grudgingly.

“So...what next? Do you have any upcoming special events at which we could be seen together?”

“I have no special events,” she replied, shoving her key into the lock of her door.

“I’ve noticed that you haven’t talked much about your life away from your shop. Other than dancing, what do you like to do for fun?”

“Oh, this and that. Goodnight, Brian.”

She’d slipped inside her door as soon as she opened it, and would have closed it in his face had he not reached out to block it, “I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

She frowned, “Well, I...”

“We need to talk about our plans for the next couple of weeks,” he added, “While we have a chance to talk in private, I mean.”

Hesitating only another moment, she nodded and held the door open for him.

“I really do like your apartment,” he remarked, masking his satisfaction that she had allowed him inside. He wandered across the big, open main room to gaze out the window that dominated the back wall of her living room. Reflections of the moon and the city lights glittered like diamonds scattered across the black satin surface of the Arkansas River. The apartment itself was rather modest, containing the living room, an eat-in kitchen, a single bedroom and bath--maybe eight hundred square feet total--but the view was impressive.

“Thanks. I like it, too. Raylene prefers the suburban setting of west Little Rock, but I like being downtown. It’s been interesting seeing the area transform from a row of abandoned warehouses to a thriving neighborhood. I’m close to the main library and the Arkansas Repertory Theatre and the Alltel Arena is just across the river...so I can easily attend concerts and sporting events.”

He knew all this, of course, being a Little Rock native, himself. He could only assume she was babbling because it made her nervous to be alone with him in her apartment.

She must have realized what she was doing at the same time he did. “I’ll make the coffee.” She said, and hurried into the kitchen.

He moved to sit on the couch, his attention lingering for a moment on the intriguing shaped pottery pieces arranged on her glass-topped coffee table. Trying to find hints of her other interests, he looked around the colorfully decorated room, paying particular notice to a built-in bookcase crowded with an eclectic assortment of paperback novels and movies on DVD. Did she spent all her free hours alone here to her apartment, reading and watching films? That didn’t seem to mesh with what he knew of her, yet he saw no evidence to the contrary.

He knew Raylene had interests outside work; she enjoyed volunteering through several community service organizations and she had been taking pottery classes at the Arkansas Arts Center. He wondered if the pieces on Genae’s table included any of Raylene’s work. Raylene also enjoyed traveling, one of the mutual pastimes that Brian had considered a sign that he and Raylene had a great deal in common.

But Genae was still a mystery to him. Raylene had chatted openly about herself during their few discreet dinner dates; Genae had revealed almost nothing to him. He’d learned only this evening how much she enjoyed dancing, for example.

He wondered why she was so reticent about revealing anything about herself to him. Was it because she didn’t expect to spend much time with him after Raylene and Jonathan married? Or did she simply dislike him so much that she didn’t want him to know much about her?

If it was the latter, he’d have to see what he could do to change her attitude toward him. He had grown rather spoiled to having other people--of both genders--like and respect him, and he was well aware of that small conceit. But why wouldn’t she like him? He was a nice guy. Good company. A more than decent dancer. He wasn’t trying to charm her into falling desperately in love with him, of course, but he would like to think they could become friends in addition to reluctant co-conspirators.

She carried two mugs of coffee when she rejoined him. Handing him his mug, she settled into a chair with her own, eyeing him somewhat warily over the rim, “What did you want to talk about?”

He certainly had his work cut out for him. For whatever reason, she didn’t trust him entirely. That was a problem he would have to overcome before they could establish any sort of friendship, even a casual one. “The wedding is still three weeks away. I think we should probably be seen publicly together two or three more times prior to the wedding, and then a few more times afterward before we drop the pretense. Just to be on the safe side. Do you agree?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

He might have wished for a little more enthusiasm but he would settle for what he could get, “So far we’ve only been seen together at events that are related to my business dealings. Don’t you think we would be more believable as a couple if you introduce me to some of your friends? Don’t you have a party or a bowling team or something we can attend together?”

“A bowling team?”

He shrugged, “Just an example.”

“No, I don’t belong to a bowling team.”

“No upcoming parties? Club meetings? Business-related social functions?”

She kept her gaze focused on her coffee, “My calendar is fairly clear at the moment. I’m open to your suggestions about things we can do together.”

He had plenty of suggestions, but he doubted that many of them would appeal to her at the moment. Since she seemed to have no intention of voluntarily sharing her life with him, it looked as though it was up to him to keep trying to come up with ideas. “What do you like to do for fun? If not bowling, I mean.”

She shrugged, “Lots of things. Nothing in particular.”

She was one of the most elusive women he had ever met. Getting a straight answer from her was like trying to grab a handful of smoke, “I know you work Saturday, but are you free Sunday?”

“I can be.”

He nodded, “Then I’ll pick you up Sunday morning around 10:00. Dress very casually. Comfortably.”

“Where are we going?”

He hadn’t a clue--but he was sure he would come up with something, “I’ll surprise you.”

If she had looked nervous before, she appeared doubly so now. “Um...”

He flashed her a grin, “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Not as far as I can throw you,” she answered without hesitation.

He laughed and set his empty mug aside, “It’s getting late. I’d better go.”

She sprang out of her seat and hurried to the door as if anxious to see him out, “I’ll see you Sunday.”

“You could try sounding a little more enthusiastic,” he said as he moved toward her.

“I said I would cooperate with this plan, and I will. You think we should be seen together a little more for Raylene and Jonathan’s sake. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Very noble and self-sacrificing of you.”

A light blush tinted her fair cheeks, “There’s no reason for you to make fun of me.”

“I’m only teasing.” He paused in front of her to stroke her flushed cheek with his fingertips, “Raylene is very lucky to have you for a sister.”

Her color deepened, “She would do the same for me.”

“Yes, I know. You’re lucky to have each other.”

“You’re doing all this for Jonathan,” she reminded him.

“Of course. But it hasn’t really been such a hardship for me to spend time with you. I’ve enjoyed it, actually.”

The compliment only made her frown deepen, “Thank you...I guess.”

Shaking his head, he feigned a sigh, “Even if you are rough on my ego,” he added in a mutter.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Bolstering your ego was not part of the deal.”

“True. But you can’t blame a guy for wishing.”

She put a hand on the doorknob, “Goodnight, Brian.”

He slid his hand around her neck, leaning closer to her.

He didn’t manage to catch her off guard this time.

She jumped away from him as if she were avoiding an electric shock, her scowl warning him off, “There’s no one watching us now. That isn’t necessary.”

“Practice?” He suggested hopefully.

She shook her head, “You hardly need any practice.”

Giving her a resigned smile, he said, “I’ll take that as a compliment. Thanks.”

She opened the door, “Go away, Brian. You’re giving me a headache.”

“You’d better stock up on aspirin. I’m going to be around for a while.”

As her door closed behind him, he thought he heard her mutter, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He was chuckling when he headed for the elevator--and looking forward to Sunday.

***

“Is something wrong with your shirt?” Raylene asked, “You keep pulling at the collar.”

“I, um...think it must have shrunk last time it was cleaned. Feels tight.”

“It doesn’t look too small. Anyway...would you like to join Jonathan and I for dinner and a movie tonight? He wants to get away from the wedding plans for a few hours. He’s picking me up here.”

Spending an evening as a third wheel on a date with the lovebirds? “Thanks, but I have other plans for the evening.”

“Oh? Are you seeing Brian tonight?”

“No, he and I have plans for tomorrow--at least he has plans. I’m just going along as a prop.”

“Should I remind you that you can call a halt to his anytime you like?”

“No reminders necessary.”

Raylene spent the next few minutes straightening her already-immaculate desk. Genae made a halfhearted, distracted attempt to bring some order to her own. Jonathan arrived, and Raylene left with him after Genae offered to lock up and set the security alarms.

Jonathan seemed a bit hesitant about leaving her there alone, but she reminded him dryly that she was hardly ever alone these days. She rarely saw Brian’s security people, but she knew they were usually hovering somewhere in the background. She doubted they hung around twenty-four hours a day, but someone was usually making sure she arrived home safely after work. She was growing accustomed to an itchy, nagging feeling of being watched by unseen eyes--but she hadn’t learned to like it.

Her plans for the evening did not include a bodyguard.

She made two stops on her roundabout trip home--a video store and the drive-through takeout window of a Chinese restaurant. She wanted to give every indication of a woman who planned to spend her Saturday night alone with egg rolls and Antonio Banderas.

Back at her apartment, she ate the egg rolls, and washed them down with a Pepsi, then changed from her work clothes into a skimpy, scoop-neck t-shirt and low-riding jeans. A round brush and a curling iron changed her sleek professional bob into a more rumpled, younger looking hairstyle, and sultry make-up altered her usual, everyday appearance.

Satisfied that she looked different from the responsible, practical businesswoman who reported to work every day, she slipped out of her apartment. She knew the building very well; there were two ways to get out that wouldn’t be expected by anyone who’d grown used to her usual routines.

There were times when Genae simply had to escape the imaginary cage she lived in for most of her life.

The last time Brian had been this anxious was when Raylene and Jonathan were kidnapped a few months earlier. The hours had passed with excruciating slowness during that ordeal when he hadn’t known the whereabouts of his friends, or if he would ever see them again. This evening seemed to creep by just as slowly while he paced Genae’s apartment, wondering where the hell she had gone.

When he’d phoned Raylene immediately after being notified that Genae was missing, she had downplayed his fears. She had assured him that slipping off for a few hours--or even for a few days--was nothing new for Genae. She had been doing so on an irregular and unpredictable basis since she’d finished college. She didn’t even tell Raylene where she went during those absences, only that sometimes she just had to “escape the cage,” whatever that meant.

Brian’s concerns has not been assuaged by that information. “You think she deliberately gave my security guy the slip? Even though she’s well aware of the reason for the extra precautions at present?”

“I think that’s exactly what she did,” Raylene had answered, her tone resigned, “I thought she acted a little funny earlier when I asked if she wanted to spend the evening with Jonathan and me. She was very evasive about her plans. I should have realized then that she was up to something.”

“You have no suggestions of where to look for her?”

“I’m afraid not. Besides, she would be livid if we track her down when she wants to be left alone.”

“I’m not really worried about annoying her right now. I’m more concerned about her safety.”

“I’m sure she’s fine, Brian. She just needed some time to herself. The past few weeks haven’t been easy for her.”

She spoke confidently about Genae’s safety, but Brian thought he heard just a hint of anxiety in her voice. Raylene, of all people, knew the risks of being publicly involved with a multimillionaire. The very wealthy always had to be mindful of security, and as long as the mastermind behind the earlier kidnapping was at large, there was added reason for Genae to be careful. The chances were slim that Donovan would risk pulling the same criminal stunt a second time, but Brian considered the possibility just credible enough to warrant extra precautions. Wandering off at night on her own without telling anyone her whereabouts was no way for Genae to cooperate.

“I’m going to wait at her apartment while Jason and his men look for her,” he announced abruptly into the phone.

Raylene made no effort to hide the reservation in her voice, “She won’t like that.”

He was already moving toward his door, his car keys in the hand that wasn’t clutching the wireless phone. “Tough. You want me to call you when we find her?”

“Please. No matter what hour it is. Even though I’m sure she’s fine.”

If Genae had deliberately shaken the bodyguard he’d assigned to her just to prove she could, she wouldn’t be fine by the time Brian finished with her. She would have several strips of hide missing--at least figuratively.

He just hoped he would have the opportunity to yell at her.

Two hours after completing that phone call, he prowled the few rooms of Genae’s apartment, his temper increasing in direct proportion to his concern. It was after 1:00 a.m.; where the hell was she?

More to the point, who was with her?

Needing to do something at least semi-productive, he pushed the send button on his phone, which redialed the last number he’d called only twenty minutes earlier. Jason Colby, head of security for his enterprise, answered on the first ring.

“I still haven’t found her,” Colby said without waiting for his employer to identify himself.

Brian knew Jason was impatient with this assignment. Brian had pulled his security chief off another project as soon as he’d been notified that Genae was missing. Jason had suggested that his subordinate could look for Brian’s faux-girlfriend. Brian had suggested in return that Jason could look for another job--a threat that was only partially bluff.

Jason had taken over the search for Genae without further protest--as Brian had known he would.

After being updated on the details of the search, Brian ordered Jason to keep looking, then disconnected and resumed his pacing. He was tempted to call the local authorities and ask for assistance--an APB on Genae’s car, maybe--but he knew that wasn’t warranted at this point. Genae had only been gone for a few hours, and there was no evidence that she hadn’t simply taken off on her own.

He had an equally strong urge to go out looking for her himself. But his place was here, coordinating the search from behind the scenes.

Here, where he would be on hand to greet her if--when--she wandered back in. And that had damned well better be soon, he thought, tossing the phone on the couch in a fit of pique.

He snatched it up again when it rang half an hour later, “What?”

“We’ve found her car,” Jason announced.

“Where?”

“She’s driving into her parking space right now.”

“Do you know where she’s been?”

“No. I just spotted her a couple of blocks from here and followed her back. Want me to escort her up?”

“No. Stay around until she gets into the elevator, then head back to your place for some rest. Send everyone else home, as well. Have the guard back at the usual time in the morning. She won’t be going out again tonight.”

“Right. I’ll talk to you later, then. And, uh, boss--”

“Yeah?”

“Keep that temper of yours under control, okay? You don’t want to end up behind bars for disturbing the peace.”

“I won’t yell,” Brian replied stiffly. He was fully capable of expressing his displeasure without raising his voice.

He heard Genae’s key in the lock less than five minutes later. He waited in the center of the room, his feet spread, his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl on his face. Genae had taken only a couple of steps into her apartment, swinging the door closed behind her, when she spotted him.

She gasped loudly and dropped her purse and keys, both of which landed noisily on the hardwood floor at her feet. “Geez, Brian, you nearly gave me a heart attack. What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

And then her eyes widened and the color drained from her cheeks, “Has something happened to Raylene?”

“Raye’s fine,” he reassured her automatically, even as he took in her appearance. She looked...different. Her hair was tousled, her eyes were emphasized with smoky shadow and liner, and her abbreviated t-shirt clung a bit too faithfully to her chest. Its hem ended a couple inches above the top of her hip-riding jeans, revealing a well-toned midriff.

She looked great. Which only made his frown deepen, “Raylene is fine,” he repeated, “Where the hell have you been?”

Her relief was palpable, “You just took ten years off my life. When I saw you standing there, I thought something must have--”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he cut in flatly, “Where have you been?”

Her chin rose as her eyes narrowed, “I’ve been out. And you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing in my apartment? How did you get in?”

“We can stand here the rest of the night--what little there is left of it, anyway--hurling the same questions at each other, but you might as well know that you aren’t getting rid of me until I get some answers. I want to know if you intentionally threw off the security detail I assigned to you--and if so, why.”

“I had plans for the evening. If your bodyguard missed seeing me leave, that’s not really my problem, is it?”

“It is most definitely your problem if you deliberately slipped away from him. And considering that you must have left the building in a roundabout way that let you get away unnoticed, my bet is that you knew exactly what you were doing.”

She bent to pick up her purse and keys, a movement that allowed her to avoid his eyes, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long.” He opened his phone and began to punch in Raylene’s number, “I have to call your sister. She’s worried sick about you.”

Genae looked at him skeptically, “I told Raylene I had plans. The only reason she would be worried is if you got her all upset.”

His back teeth ground so tightly together that he could hear his jaw pop, “Raylene understands the reason I’ve provided security for you, whether you like it or not.”

Jonathan answered the call, “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. She just walked in.” Brian watched as Genae tossed her things on a table, then moved into the kitchen to fill a glass with water.

“She’s okay?”

“For the moment.”

Jonathan chuckled, “Take it easy on her, Brian. Raylene told you she was probably fine. But I’ll let Raylene know she’s home.”

“Do that.” Brian disconnected the call, then followed Genae into the kitchen, “Do you know it’s 3:00 a.m.?”

She set her empty glass in the sink, “I’m perfectly capable of reading a clock. I hope you didn’t wake Raye and Jonathan.”

“They weren’t asleep. They were pacing the floor with worry about you!” Dammit, now he was shouting. But she frustrated him to no end with her refusal to answer his questions and her lack of reaction to his temper--or the genuine concern that lay behind the anger.

Once again, the look Genae gave him was disbelieving, “They were pacing the floor?”

Because he knew Raylene would mention that she hadn’t been overly worried about her sister on this occasion, Brian growled, “Well, they should have been. Anything could have happened to you out on the streets by yourself at this hour.”

“I’ve been living on my own for several years. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“You purposefully eluded the security guard, didn’t you?” It seemed important to make her admit it.

She shrugged, which he took as an affirmative answer.

“Why?” he demanded, “You’re free to go anywhere you want and stay as long as you like. The security guard has instructions to remain totally in the background unless you need assistance, so neither you nor anyone else would even be aware of his presence.”

“I’m always aware of their presence,” she snapped back, “I hate being followed around all the time, knowing that everything I do is being reported straight to you.”

“I don’t get reports of everything you do. Hell, Genae, I don’t care what stops you make as long as you’re safe. The only reports made to me are when the guards go on and off duty, and whether anyone suspicious tried to approach you at any time.”

“Then how did you know to come here tonight? If, as you said, no one saw me leave or knew where I was, how did you know I wasn’t in my apartment?”

“The guard noticed your car was missing when he made his final round before leaving for the night. He knew the car was there earlier and it concerned him that he hadn’t seen you emerge from the usual exit. He realized the only other way out was the service entrance, which wasn’t being watched since it was assumed you were safe in your apartment for the night. He contacted me, as he’d been instructed to do. Because I couldn’t believe you would be foolhardy enough to pull a stunt like this, I operated on the assumption that you were in trouble.”

“And you overreacted.”

“Dammit, Genae.” He stepped forward and caught her forearms in his hands. It was all he could do not to shake her, “I was worried about you. You know Donovan is still out there somewhere, and that he still hates me for putting an end to his crooked business practices.”

“You told me you were confident that he’d left the country. And that he’s too cowardly to come after you or anyone else you care about again.”

“I said I was pretty sure that was the case. If I’d been completely confident, I wouldn’t have been so insistent about security.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine. I’m safely home and I’m sure you’ll make certain I don’t have a chance to slip out on my own again.”

The somberness of her words made him shake his head, “It’s only for a little while longer. Just a few more weeks, and this will all be over.”

She turned her head away so he couldn’t see her expression, “As you pointed out, it’s very late, and I’m tired. I’m sorry I worried you, and I’ll try not to do so again. I just needed a few hours to myself.”

He made a deliberated effort to loosen his grasp on her, though he didn’t release her. He wanted to ask her again where she’d been. He bit the words back because he knew he had no right to ask. He would insist on providing her with security, but as long as she cooperated in that respect, she was free to go wherever she wanted. With whomever she wanted.

Instead he said, “If this is getting to be too much for you, we can find a way to end it now. We’ll have a public spat or something.”

“The deal was, we have our so-called ‘break-up’ after the wedding so we don’t attract any negative attention beforehand. I’m not backing out on my part of the arrangement.”

“But if...”

She broke away from him, her face set in stubborn lines, “I’m sticking with it--unless you want out.”

“No,” he said quickly, “I still think it’s a good plan.”

“Fine. Now go away and let me get some rest.”

“You aren’t planning to leave again tonight, are you?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s three in the morning. The only place I’m going is to bed.”

“I don’t suppose you want company...”

“Go home, Brian.”

He managed a weak smile. She assumed, of course that he’d been joking. This wasn’t the time to let her know he’d been quite serious. One sign from her and he’d have her in bed so fast her head would spin. Maybe it was a culmination of his emotions during the past few hours--but he suspected this has been building a lot longer than that. He wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d decided he wanted her, but he had no doubt of it now.

Trouble was, she didn’t want him. And he didn’t know where she had been this evening--or with whom. All in all, his chances with her weren’t looking too good at the moment.

Deciding he’d better leave before he dug himself any deeper, he turned toward the door, “Lock the door behind me.”

“Locking the door didn’t keep you out.”

He only looked at her over his shoulder, waiting until she sighed and joined him at the door. He opened the door, then paused in the doorway. Studying her closely, he saw signs of her weariness--a smudge of purple beneath her eyes, a slight droop to her shoulders. His voice softened when he spoke again, “I really was worried about you, Gen.”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue before murmuring, “I...um...appreciate the concern. It just wasn’t necessary.”

He would have liked to kiss her then, just to reassure himself that she was all right. But since he’d spent the past several minutes chewing her out, he doubted that she would be receptive to a kiss from him. He cheered himself up with the reminder that he would be spending the next day with her, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at ten.”

There was little expression on her face when she nodded, “Goodnight, Brian.”

He heard the lock click into place after she closed the door between them. It gave him the depressing feeling that she was locking him out of her life.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned toward the elevator, reminding himself that even Genae had acknowledged that he wasn’t an easy man to lock out.

***

Even though she was exhausted by the time she crawled into bed, Genae didn’t rest well. Her emotions were still in a turmoil from her confrontation with Brian. She was still angry with him for challenging her right to go out without his assigned escort, yet she couldn’t help remembering that there had been genuine concern for her in his eyes.

She told herself not to read too much into that. Brian was the overly responsible type; he’d promised that no harm would come to her because of her association with him, and he would go overboard in his efforts to keep that promise. He would do the same for anyone.

As for the other overtures he’d been making to her lately--the kisses, the long looks, the unexpected offer to join her in bed, which may or may not have been in jest--she would have to keep those in perspective as well. Flirting came as naturally to Brian as breathing; she’d seen him work that same natural charm on blushing senior citizens.

What really concerned her was the possibility that he was beginning to see her as a substitute for her sister. He’d been attracted to Raylene, and so impressed by her that he’d actually considered marrying her. Was it really so farfetched that he could be transferring those abruptly derailed feelings to Raylene’s identical twin?

Brian had been drawn to Raylene’s gentle, peaceful, competent and dependable nature, seeing in her the ideal potential mate for a wealthy, powerful, socially prominent man, and future mother of his children. Except for appearance, Genae was nothing like her sister. Nor was she willing to change to suit anyone’s image of what she should be like. Not again.

The best plan of action, therefore, was to continue to demonstrate to Brian that she wasn’t the type of woman he’d been searching for. If he was making the mistake of seeing her as a convenient substitute, he had to be shown the error of that thinking. And there was no better way to show him than to be herself around him.

The problem was, she had to keep reminding herself, as well as Brian, that they were all wrong for each other. There were times when it was a bit too easy to pretend that the charade was real.

***

The telephone woke Genae up at 8:30 a.m. She felt as though she’d only managed a couple hours of sleep, and she answered the phone with a yawn, “H’lo?”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Raylene asked.

Genae wriggled to an upright position, pushing her tumbled hair out of her eyes with her free hand, “It’s okay. I have to get up, anyway.”

“So I take it you’re uninjured?”

“I’m fine. Sorry Brian worried you last night with his tantrum.”

“Maybe you should have told him you planned to go out last night?”

Ganae sighed, “I’ve already gotten this lecture from Brian. Don’t you start, too.”

“He was pretty mad, huh?”

Genae remembered the moment she had first spotted Brian standing in the center of her living room, his expression forbidding, his posture letting her know he was poised for battle, “You could say that.”

“It hasn’t been that long since Jonathan and I were kidnapped. The nightmare is still fresh to Brian. I figured you’d just slipped off with some of your friends, but Brian doesn’t know you as well as I do. He was half convinced that Donovan had resurfaced and snatched you for ransom--or revenge.”

“He overreacted, obviously. But I’ll try not to set him off again.”

“You’ll cooperate with his security measures?”

“Within reasonable bounds.”

“That sounds like another argument waiting to happen--but I’ll leave you and Brian to work it out between you. You’re still seeing him today?”

“He’s picking me up at ten.”

Raylene cleared her throat, “He was very worried about you last night. It really shook him to think you could be in trouble.”

“As I said, he overreacted.”

“He seems to be growing quite fond of you. I can tell he’s enjoyed the time he’s spent with you.”

Uh-oh. Genae frowned into the receiver, “Brian and I have a common interest--making sure you and Jonathan have a pleasant, problem-free wedding. That’s all there is to it.”

“I don’t know. I think you’re kind of nice together. Brian thrives on challenges--and you certainly challenge him.”

“And I think you’re getting carried away with your wedding planning. You’re seeing everything through a romantic haze.”

“Still...”

“Forget it, Raye. I don’t want you playing matchmaker between Brian and me. You’d be wasting your time.”

“Weren’t you and Brian the ones who conspired to bring Jonathan and I back together after we were rescued from Donovan’s men?” Raylene retorted, “The two of you went so far as to strand us together in Mom and Dad’s vacation cabin because you decided it was the only way to get Jonathan to admit his feelings for me.”

“That was different. You and Jonathan were obviously in love with each other. You were both too timid and befuddled to do anything about it without a little nudge.”

“So maybe you need a little nudge?”

“That’s the last thing I need,” Genae answered flatly, “Brian and I are nothing more than co-conspirators. Casual friends with a mutual interest, at most. Promise me you’ll stop trying to make any more out of it than that.”

“I just--”

“Raylene.” Genae spoke sternly this time, making it very clear the matter wasn’t open to discussion, “Promise me.”

Sighing heavily, Raylene conceded, “Okay. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, okay? Brian doesn’t need my help, anyway. He’s not in the least bit timid about expressing his feelings.”

Genae decided to let that statement pass, “I’d better start getting ready. Thanks for calling to check on me.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later. Call if you need to talk. About anything, okay?”

Genae was well aware that Raylene was always available for her, and she said so before she disconnected the call. Because she was tempted to curl back up in bed and pull the covers over her head, she made herself swing her legs over the side and stand before she changed her mind.

Forty-five minutes later, she had showered, eaten a light breakfast of a bagel and Pepsi and dressed in a ruched cotton tank in a melon color with brief denim shorts. Brian had told her to dress casually and comfortably, and she’d taken him at his word.

It was going to be a hot, clear day, and the temperature predicted to rise into the upper nineties, and the humidity almost as high. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail, making no effort to restrain the short tendrils that escaped at the back of her neck. She wore minimal make-up and no jewelry other than her functional silver-toned watch. She completed the ensemble with a pair of sneakers.

She looked very different from the elegantly dressed and carefully accessorized woman who’d accompanied Brian to his fancy shindigs during the past few weeks, she decided with a glance at her reflection. This was the real Genae Landon. No designer labels, no fancy jewelry, no sexy--and excruciatingly painful--high-heeled shoes. If Brian wanted to be seen with a fashion doll, he could go back to dating his supermodels.

She spent the remainder of her time before he arrived pacing and giving herself a pep talk about how to behave with Brian today. Not too combative--there was no reason they shouldn’t make the best of this outing--but not meekly agreeable to everything he said, either. If he flirted--as he quite likely would--she would respond with unencouraging stares or chilly half smiles.

She would cheerfully discuss Raylene’s wedding, current events or business matters, but she would firmly refuse to talk about last night, making it quite clear that her personal life was none of his concern. They should be able to spend a cordial and pleasant day together for the benefit of whatever tabloid gossips were keeping track of them, and then they would go their own ways again until the next time they decided a public appearance was in order.

It sounded like a good plan--if Brian would cooperate.

When the doorbell rang, she jumped to her feet, smoothed her hands down her shorts and composed her face into what she hoped was a blandly polite smile. Only then did she open the door, “Good morning.”

Dressed in a pale blue polo shirt and faded jeans, he was almost hidden behind an enormous bouquet of sunset-orange roses. “Morning, Genae.”

She couldn’t help but be impressed by the flowers. They were magnificent, so vividly colored she almost blinked from their brightness. Trust Brian to choose such an unusual shade rather than the more traditional pink, white or red roses--and to know that this more exuberant color suited her better, “They’re beautiful.”

“They reminded me of you.” He placed the big bouquet in her hands. “Consider them an apology for yelling at you last night. I still disagree with your decision to go off alone the way you did, but I shouldn’t have ambushed you about it.”

Apparently she wasn’t the only who had vowed to get along today. Studying him over the top of the roses, she noted that his smile didn’t quite reach his glittering blue eyes. It was the practiced smile that pushed faint dimples into his cheeks and revealed a lot of gleaming white teeth. A smile most people instinctively responded to, even though it revealed absolutely nothing of the thoughts that lay behind it.

She’d always thought of it as the sort of smile a shark would wear when he invited someone to join it for a little swim.

“Thanks. I’ll go put these in water.” She turned toward the kitchen.

“Nice shorts,” he said from behind her.

Now was the time for one of those unencouraging stares or chilly half smiles. Instead she blushed, stumbled over her own feet and fled to the kitchen.

She seemed to need another quick pep talk.

Her composure reestablished, Genae carried the roses, now arranged in a clear glass vase, back into the living room a few minutes later, setting them prominently in the center of her glass-topped coffee table, “Have you decided yet what we’re doing today? I assume you want to go out in public so we’ll be seen together.”

“Of course. I thought we’d spend the day in Hot Springs, if that sounds okay to you.”

“Hot Springs?”

“Where better than to be publicly seen in a town full or tourists?”

She couldn’t argue with that. An hour’s drive south of Little Rock, the sidewalks of Hot Springs National Park were often crowded with tourists on nice summer weekends. Even dressed in jeans and sneakers rather than one of his expensive tailored business suits, Brian would draw more than his share of attention. As he always did.

It sounded like and innocuous enough day. They would wander lazily among the other tourists, pretending to be two lovers on a Sunday outing, giving Jonathan and Raylene the privacy to make their plans and enjoy their time together. All in all, it wasn’t going to be such a hardship for Genae. Because he seemed to be feeling somewhat remorseful about his middle-of-the-night temper tantrum, Brian would probably be extra charming today, making sure she had a good time.

All she had to do was play her role--and keep in mind that it was only make-believe.

Among his many other talents, Brian seemed to have a special aptitude for drawing the attention of the media. There should have been nothing particularly noteworthy about a couple spending a summer afternoon strolling the sidewalks of a tourist town. Genae was enjoying the relative anonymity--until they were suddenly thrust once again into the spotlight.

After having a delicious brunch at a local hotel, they wandered through the town on foot for a while. They had just stepped out of one of the many delightful little galleries and were arguing the merits of the featured artist whose works they had just studied in detail. Genae liked them; Brian thought they were too derivative.

A smattering of other tourists moved slowly around them, pausing to gaze at the eclectic merchandise displayed in the shop windows. The high heat and humidity made the air feel a bit thick, as if it required a bit of effort to push through it. Genae was accustomed to Arkansas summer temperatures, of course, but she could spot a lot of the tourists who were having a bit more difficulty ignoring the broil-factor.

“So what would you like to do next?” Brian asked. “A bath house tour? The wax museum? Or we could rent a boat and take it out on Lake Ouachita or...”

“Magic Springs,” Genae cut in, because it could take him a while to list all the possibilities available to them.

Brian’s eyebrows rose, “The amusement park?”

She nodded, “I like to eat park junk food and ride the roller coasters.”

“In that order?” He chuckled, “Sounds a little dangerous.”

“Only for someone with a weakling’s stomach,” she scoffed.

“Okay, if you want junk food and thrill rides, then that’s what you’ll have. Never say I don’t--”

The rest of his words were lost in a crash so loud it reverberated through Genae’s body. One minute Brian was standing at her side, and the next he was gone. Spinning toward the street to look for him, she gasped in dismay at the sight of a twisted pile of metal in the four-lane intersection.

It looked as though a big SUV had run a red light and slammed into the passenger side of a smaller car. The smell of gasoline was heavy in the air, along with another, more insidious odor--smoke.

And Brian was right in the middle of it.

Only vaguely aware of the shouts and cries around her, Genae ran forward to see if she could help. She had just reached the crumpled car when Brian thrust a crying child into her arms, “Take him and get back on the sidewalk,” Brian shouted over the pandemonium.

Someone else pushed her out of the way as two strong-looking young men hurried over to assist Brian. Other spectators hovered in the background, afraid to get close to the mounting heat and smell of fuel.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Everything’s going to be all right,” Genae murmured automatically to the little boy clinging to her neck and sobbing. She guessed that he was about four years old; she had seen Brian pull him out of the left side of the car. Brian was now fully inside the car, and she couldn’t see him for the smoke and movement surrounding them.

Everyone seemed to be talking at once around her, snatches of their words drifting toward her.

“It’s going to blow up!”

“I called 9-1-1.”

“The SUV’s driver is okay. That’s him over there. Hardly looks old enough to drive, does he?”

“Sure hope that car doesn’t go up in flames while those people are still in there.”

Genae swallowed hard and tightened her hold on the child, maybe seeking comfort as much as offering it. The boy’s face was buried in her throat; she could feel wet tears against her skin, “I want my...mama,” he whimpered.

Genae patted him again, “Hang in there a minute, buddy,” she murmured, her attention still focused on that car, from which flames could now be seen quite clearly climbing up the left side from underneath.

The driver was out, being supported by one of the men who had rushed to help Brian. The woman, whom Genae assumed to be the child’s mother, was crying and trying to get back to her burning car. The young man had his hands full restraining her. Someone stepped up to help him. Other people were yelling, some motioning for bystanders to stay back, some running around in seemingly aimless circles. In the distance, the sound of sirens could be heard growing louder as they moved closer.

Genae tried to remind herself that Brian hadn’t been in the car very long. Scant minutes had passed since he’d disappeared inside. It only seemed much longer.

A couple of loud pops were followed by a new spurt of flames from beneath the car. A collective gasp came from the crowd around her, and Genae felt her heart stutter. What was Brian doing? Why wasn’t he coming out?

Her vivid imagination conjured up a picture of the car exploding into a fireball with Brian trapped inside. She flinched from the awful image, telling herself fiercely that it wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t happen. Brian wouldn’t allow it.

Her knees nearly buckled in relief when he finally emerged from the vehicle. He was immediately pulled away from the car and then surrounded by people. She’d seen that he was holding something, but the bodies between them kept her from seeing what It was. The woman who had been driving the car gave a cry and broke away from the hands that had been holding her back.

A moment later, the car was fully engulfed in flames, despite the efforts of a couple of shop owners who had appeared with fire extinguishers that they were emptying on the vehicles. Brian would have been in that fire if he’d hesitated even a little longer, Genae realized sickly.

The frantic mother was now holding a tiny bundle in her arms. She turned, searching the crowds around her, “Jamie? Jamie? Has anyone seen my son?”

The child in Genae’s arms responded immediately to the call, “Mama?”

Genae hurried toward the woman, “I have him. He’s fine.”

“Thank God.” The woman broke down into tears again.

Brian put his right hand on the woman’s shoulder, “There’s a bench beside that shop door. You should sit until the ambulance arrives.”

He spoke quietly, but Genae noted that his words were carried easily through the babbling of the crowd and the wails of the woman’s children. A police car came to a stop in the intersection, and a fire truck wasn’t far behind it. Settling Jamie more securely on her hip, Genae stayed close to his mother while Brian escorted her and the baby to the bench. The crowd automatically made way for them, of course, after only a glance from Brian.

What was it about him? Even in jeans and sneakers, his hair all tousled, and his face smudged, he still wore an air of competence and authority that people seemed to instinctively recognize and respond to.

Brian murmured something to the woman that was lost in the chaos. Genae thought she heard his name repeated several times around her, and then the police and emergency workers took over. The crowd was efficiently dispersed, the fire was extinguished, and the badly shaken woman and her children were loaded into an ambulance and taken away for observation.

A reporter from the local paper arrived, and someone mentioned Brian’s role in the rescue. Genae could hear details being embroidered as she stood there. She was greatly relieved when Brian had given his statement to the police, answered a few questions from the reporter--downplaying his own part in the rescue, of course--and then turned to Genae to say, “Ready to go?”

“Yes.”

The fervency in her reply drew a wry smile form him, “Sorry. I know how you hate being the center of attention.”

Aware of all the eyes still focused on them, she cleared her throat and fell into a quick step at his side. “Let’s just find your car.”

Brian was unusually quiet as they made their way to the parking lot, leaving the noisy gossip and street clean-up behind them. Genae was startled when he turned to her at the car and said, “Would you like to drive?”

“You’re offering to let me drive the Beamer?” She frowned at him, studying his face to determine if he was simply making a nice gesture or if there was something more to the offer. The paleness of his face and the sheen of moisture on his upper lip gave her the answer, “Where are you hurt?”

Looking him over, she saw that he was holding his left arm, which was tucked to his side; she realized now that he’d kept it there since emerging from the vehicle with the baby girl, “Let me see your arm,” she demanded.

He winced when she grabbed his wrist, “Careful.”

“Brian!” She stared in dismay at the outside of his left forearm, which was obviously burned, the skin an angry red with small blisters just becoming visible. “When did this happen?”

“I was having trouble unsnapping the buckles on the baby’s car seat. A lick of flame came up the inside of the door and I shielded her with my arm until I could get her out.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, making it sound like no big deal that he’d used his own arm as a barrier between a spreading fire and a helpless infant. And he hadn’t mentioned the injury since, even though his arm had to hurt like hell.

“Why didn’t you show this to the paramedics?” she scolded, “These burns need to be treated immediately. Do you want to get an infection? It’s a wonder you didn’t get yourself killed, diving into that car like that.”

“I saw the baby in the car seat and I knew the car was starting to burn. Would you have had me leave her in there?”

His calm question didn’t soothe her frayed nerves, “Get in the car,” she snapped. “I’m taking you to the nearest emergency room.”

“Maybe we should drive into Little Rock to get away from the attention here.”

“Little Rock is too far. You’re just going to have to deal with the attention.”

“I really think I--”

“Brian, get in the damned car!”

He sighed, “Fine.”

The sheer pleasure of driving Brian’s car was lost in her urgency to find treatment for his arm. She chewed him out almost continuously during the brief drive, and he meekly allowed her to do so. She didn’t know if he was being so agreeable because he knew she needed an emotional release from the intensity of the ordeal, or because he was in too much pain to argue with her. Nor was she sure if she was so upset because the whole incident had been so frightening--or because Brian had been hurt, and could have been killed.

Because it seemed safer to continue lecturing him than to give much more thought to her feelings for him, she started in on him again for not immediately reporting his injuries.

***

“I can’t believe that reporter was the first person we saw when we went into the ER.” Brian muttered, not for the first time.

“He said he’d driven straight there to check on the condition of he woman and her children. Apparently it was a slow news day.” Genae adjusted the rearview mirror of the BMW and guided the car into the left lane to pass a slower-moving car. Now that Brian’s injuries had been treated and she knew that he was going to be all right, she could enjoy the novelty of driving the gleaming black Beamer.

Brian rested his head against the high back of the tan leather seat. “Maybe the story will be confined to the local paper he works for. It probably won’t be picked up by the wire services.”

“Maybe,” she said, but she wasn’t particularly optimistic. Brian’s name alone would be enough to propel the story into national news. Add his heroic rescue of a baby in the mix, risking his own life and sustaining injuries in the process, and she could almost guarantee headlines.

He just seemed to have a special talent...

Brian plucked irritably at the bandages on his arm, “I don’t know why they had to truss me up like this. The doctor even said I wasn’t burned that badly.”

She could hear the effects of the medication that had been pumped into him; his words were just a bit slurred, his tone uncharacteristically petulant, “The doctor said you were lucky you didn’t end up with third-degree burns.”

Brian had been instructed to see his own doctor on Monday, and to take very good care of his burns to keep them from becoming infected. He’d been given painkillers and a list of instructions before being released into Genae’s care.

“Sorry about the amusement park,” Brian murmured, his eyes closed, “I know you wanted to ride the roller coasters.”

“That’s okay.”

“Rain check?”

“Sure.”

“Good. I’d like to take a wild ride with you.”

Because she wasn’t sure if that was him or the medicine speaking, she let the comment pass, “I’m just glad no one was seriously hurt in that wreck--including you,” she commented. “As violent as the impact was, I was afraid someone had been killed.”

“Might have been, if the woman and her kids hadn’t been properly restrained. She was wearing her seat belt and both kids were buckled into car seats. They were all bruised and shaken, but not hurt. The SUV’s driver--as inattentive as he was to the traffic signals--was at least smart enough to wear his seat belt.”

Brian still hadn’t opened his eyes. He was so still that she might have thought he was sleeping had he not been talking, “Rest awhile,” she said, “I’ll let you know when we’re home.”

“How can I relax when you’re driving my baby? Someone has to make sure you’re careful with her.”

She sniffed, “Go to sleep, Littrell. The meds are making you delirious.”

He chuckled, “Just be careful.”

A minute later, he was asleep.

Reaching over to make sure his seat belt was securely fastened, Genae patted his knee, “Sweet dreams, hot shot,” she murmured.

She suspected he needed his rest. She would bet that his heroic deeds that day would draw more attention than he expected.

Because she had no intention of leaving Brian alone on painkillers, Genae drove him to her own apartment so she could keep an eye on him for a few hours. He was still asleep when she parked his car next to her own in the garage. Apparently the medication he’d been given had been quite strong.

“Brian?” she said, touching his shoulder. She hoped she could rouse him; she couldn’t see herself carrying him into her apartment.

His eyes opened, “Mmm?”

“Let’s go up to my apartment, okay?”

Blinking, he glanced around, taking in their surroundings, “We’re at your place?”

“Yes. I’ll come around and help you out.”

“I can manage.” He reached over for his door handle, but didn’t get very far since he had forgotten to unbuckle his seat belt.

Shaking her head, Genae rounded the front of his car and reached for his door. She decided she’d made a good call bringing him home with her. He was still pretty loopy.

She stayed close when he stood, in case he was dizzy, but he seemed steady enough. He hissed a curse between his teeth when his left arm bumped against the car door, proving the painkillers hadn’t taken all the sensation from his wounds.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just sore.”

Neither of them said anything else on the way up to her apartment. Genae ushered him inside and closed the door behind them. “Would you like to lie down on my bed?”

“Only if you’re offering to lie down beside me.”

She gave him one of those chilly smiles she’d been practicing, “Apparently you’re still delirious from the medication.”

“Maybe...but I’m not an invalid. I don’t need to go to bed--not to rest, anyway.”

Obviously she had piqued his male ego by being a bit too solicitous. Oh, well, she wasn’t very good at that sort of thing, anyway, “How about something to eat, instead?”

He shrugged, “If I can’t have you, I suppose I’d settle for a sandwich.”

“You’re in luck. You picked one of my culinary specialties.” She waved him toward the couch, “Sit. Watch TV or something. I won’t be long.”

She heard a baseball game playing on the TV as she moved into the kitchen to make sandwiches. They ate in front of the television. Simple fare, but Brian seemed to enjoy it. Genae half expected they would root for different teams--it seemed they were always moving in opposite directions--but it turned out they were both Braves fans.

Somehow they ended up side by side on the sofa, feet propped on the coffee table, enthusiastically cheering their team. Genae found herself laughing often at Brian’s acerbic comments about the plays that didn’t work, the calls he disputed, or some of the more inane remarks from the announcers. If his arm was bothering him too badly, he didn’t allow it to show.

It was hard to believe that a day that had taken such a dramatic turn could end up so cozily on her couch.

There was a break in the game and a silly beer ad filled the television screen. Genae glanced at her watch, “You need to take another painkiller in a few minutes. Can I get you anything else to drink?”

“No...I still have half a can of soda left.”

“Is your arm hurting?”

He shrugged, “It’s making itself known, but it’s tolerable.”

She glanced at his bandages, “It has to hurt. I’ve burned myself before and it’s awful.”

To illustrate, she twisted her left leg and pointed to a whitish oval scar on the back of her calf, “I did this on the exhaust pipe of a motorcycle when I was sixteen and too dumb to know it was hot. That sucker hurt like hell for weeks.”

He looked intrigued, “Were you driving the bike?”

“No, I was riding on the back--barefoot and wearing shorts. I did have on a helmet.”

“That’s encouraging, I suppose. So who was driving?”

“The high school bad boy. His hair was spiked, his ears were pierced. He was the first guy I actually knew who had a tattoo. It was a skull with a snake coming from the mouth.”

“Charming...” he paused, “so did you like that? The tattoo I mean.”

She shrugged in a helpless manner, “On the right people. Yes, I guess I’ve always thought they have a certain sex appeal.”

The grin on his face only widened, as if he knew something she didn’t.

She wrinkled her nose, remembering the thrill of riding that powerful motorcycle with a boy everyone considered dangerous. She’d had to sneak around to see him, since her parents practically went into spasms everytime his name was mentioned.

Brian eyed her speculatively, “So far you’ve mentioned dating a biker and a rodeo cowboy. Drawn to the rebel type, are you?”

She looked intently at the television screen, where the baseball game was back in play, “I suppose I was--once.”

“What about Raye? Did she ever tiptoe on the wild side?”

She gave a short laugh. “Raye dated the president of the chess club. In college, her boyfriend was the vice president of the College Republicans. Jonathan is the most dangerous man she’s ever been involved with--and he’s a white-collar rebel.”

“An interesting way to describe him.”

“A former soldier turned bodyguard turned corporate executive. What would you call him?”

“I just call him my friend.”

She took a sip of her soda, then nearly spewed it across the room when she felt Brian’s fingers on her bare leg. She lowered the aluminum can to look at him, “What are you doing?”

“Just looking at your scar--in case mine ends up the same way.” He traced the outline of the scar with one fingertip--and it was all she could do not to shiver in reaction.

She tried to speak coherently, “I, uh...maybe you’ll luck out and you won’t have a scar at all.”

“I could always cover it with a tattoo...would you find that irresistibly attractive?”

She had no intention of admitting that she already came all too close to thinking of him that way, “I told you, I outgrew that sort of thing a long time ago.”

He smiled, pulling his hand from her leg to push the sleeve of his polo shirt up his arm, speaking all the while as he revealed a strongly cut bicep inked with an elaborate cross, “I guess it was my attempt to walk on the wild side.”

She nearly gulped, laying eyes intensely upon the artwork that he’d so happily produced to her, not noticing his movements until he returned to stroking her leg--very lightly, his fingertips barely grazing her skin, “What would it take for you to find me irresistible?”

“A miracle.” She snapped, shifting her weight on the couch.

He gave her a smile that should have been illegal, “I’m rather good at arranging miracles.”

As he spoke, he tickled the back of her knee, a spot she had never realized was particularly erotic--until now. A quiver ran just beneath her skin from that point of contact to the center of her abdomen. She gulped and swung her feet to the floor, “I’ll get your pills. I think you need to be medicated again.”

“I can wait a while longer.”

But she couldn’t. She needed something productive to do before her hormones mutinied against her common sense and caused her to do something really stupid.

She stood and hurried into the kitchen, thinking of how ironic it was that she had brought Brian to her apartment because she thought he needed someone to take care of him. Turned out that Brian was just as hard to handle injured as he was in perfect health.

Brian wouldn’t have admitted it to Genae for anything, of course, but his arm hurt like the devil. The burns weren’t serious--he’d scorched off a thin layer of skin--but the abused nerve endings had been punishing him in throbbing waves all afternoon. Especially now that the painkiller had worn off.

The doctor had instructed him to keep the wound clean and dry, and to see his own physician for further care instructions. He had added that the burns were mostly superficial and shouldn’t cause any long-term effect. Genae was making too much of the incident, actually, but he couldn’t say he disliked being the focus of her solicitude--as endearingly awkward as she was in offering it.

The newest glimpse into her past--her long-ago attraction to the local “bad boy”--intrigued him, as so much about her did. The more time he spent with Genae, the more he became aware that there were many layers to her, some of them hidden so deeply beneath the surface that it would take persistence and determination for anyone else to uncover them.

Funny. When he’d first met her, he had thought of her as a slightly more irritable version of Raylene. Now he understood just how erroneous that impression had been.

He admired Raylene a great deal. She was intelligent, witty, kindhearted, competent and serene. A pleasure to be around. She would make his sometimes difficult friend Jonathan very happy.

As for her twin--Genae was more complex in some ways than Raylene. Moodier, more reserved, more suspicious--traits that had initially taken him aback, but now made him more interested in learning everything about her. He was curious how a woman so similar to Raylene in appearance, raised at the same time by the same parents, could turn out so differently. It could possibly take years to fully decipher the puzzle that was Genae.

Maybe a lifetime.

The errant thought made him clear his throat as she came back into the room carrying a glass of water. Damn, she looked good in those shorts. And now that he knew exactly how silky her legs felt, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on them again.

She held out one hand to him, revealing two white pills in her palm, “Take these.”

“I’ll take one of them. You can put the other back in the container.”

“You’re supposed to take two.”

“I don’t like that fuzzy-head feeling. And it doesn’t hurt that badly, anyway.”

“But...”

He settled the issue by plucking one of the pills from her hand and popping it into his mouth. Taking the glass of water, he washed the pill down, “There,” he said, lowering the glass. “That should do it.”

She shook her head, but didn’t try to insist that he take the other. After returning it to the container, she stood at the end of the couch, looking as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do next. “Would you like me to call one of your people to drive you home?”

“My people?” He repeated, amused by her wording.

“Should I have said one of your minions?”

“Cute. But, no, I don’t need one of my ‘minions’ at the moment. I can drive myself home when I’m ready.”

“You aren’t supposed to drive or operate heavy equipment while you’re taking those pills.”

“I’m not planning to use a forklift this evening. I’m just driving home, which is only a few miles from here, I should point out. I would be on the road all of ten or fifteen minutes.”

“That’s plenty of time to get into an accident and hurt yourself...or someone else. At least let me call Jason or someone to give you a lift.”

“Jason is my security officer, not my chauffeur. He has much more important duties to attend to.”

“Then who is your chauffeur?”

“I don’t have one. I prefer to drive myself.”

“Then I’ll drive you and call a cab to bring me home.”

“Are you so anxious to get rid of me?”

She crossed her arms and looked away from him. “I simply thought you might want to rest. You’ve had a rather stressful day.”

He decided he’d had enough of her benevolence, charming as it was. It was time to point out to her that it would take more than a couple of burns to get the best of him. Rising to his feet, he paused just a moment to let the medication-induced dizziness subside, making sure he gave no sign of the condition. And then he moved toward Genae.

“I haven’t found the day particularly stressful. It was very nice, actually. I enjoyed having lunch with you and wandering through the streets of Hot Springs with you. I’ve had a nice time sitting here watching baseball with you, too.”

“Did you enjoy almost being trapped in a burning car?” she asked cynically, “Having your arm burned? Spending a couple of hours in a hospital emergency room?”

He shrugged. “I’m glad I was able to help that family--though if I hadn’t, someone else would have. As for the ER, I didn’t particularly enjoy being swabbed and swaddled, but it was worth even that to spend the day with you.”

She rolled her eyes. “There are no microphones hidden in my apartment. You can drop the phony sweet talk.”

“Maybe I mean it.”

“And maybe you’re full of hot air.”

He chuckled and reached up to stroke his knuckles against her jaw line, “I really do love being with you.”

Her cheeks darkened. It always fascinated him that she blushed so easily with him. And it pleased him that he could make her do so. The stern frown she gave him didn’t quite diminish the effect of the blush.

“I’ll drive you home now.”

“Not just yet. First I want to thank you for taking such good care of me this afternoon.”

Her reply was brusque, “You’re welcome.”

He bent his head closer to hers, “I haven’t thanked you yet.”

“You don’t--”

He smothered whatever she intended to say beneath his lips.

He had kissed her before--to play his part, or to prove a point, or just to shake her up. This time he kissed her for no other reason except that he wanted to.

Had she made any effort to push him away, he would have backed off immediately. He gave her every opportunity to do so, holding back at first until he could tell if she was going to respond. At first she froze, holding herself very still for what seemed like forever, and then very gradually, she began to respond. Her lips moved tentatively, experimentally. And when he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, she parted her lips just slightly.

The result was powerful enough to almost rock him back on his heels. If Genae kissed this well when she was hardly even trying, he couldn’t imagine how it might be when she gave it her all. He couldn’t wait to find out.

It seemed there was still a bit of the rebel left in her.

He knew he should draw back before the kiss got out of control--as it so easily could. Already his hands itched to caress and explore. The blood was beginning to heat up and surge through his body. It was only a kiss, but it could so easily develop into more.

He found the resolve to pull away by reminding himself that Genae would probably bolt if he tried to move too quickly. He would have to start all over winning her trust--what little he had gained thus far.

He half expected her to turn away when he ended the kiss--to either pretend it hadn’t happened or to bluster and blame him for initiating it in the first place. He’d figured out that bravado was her way of hiding insecurities that she didn’t want anyone else to see.

Instead her gaze held his as she smoothed her hands down her hips and cleared her throat, “Well,” she said after a moment. “I supposed that was an emotional release, of sorts. It was a more traumatic day than you’ve admitted, wasn’t it?”

So she had decided to be calm and analytical about it. He would almost prefer one of her fiery flashes of temper. At least that would indicate that he wasn’t the only one who’d been affected on an emotional level. “That’s what you think we were doing? Letting off steam?”

She did turn away then, her expression half-hidden from him. “Of course. What else?”

What else? He didn’t think she was ready to hear his theories about that yet. “Maybe I’d better go now,” he said instead.

She turned back to face him. “I’ll drive you.”

“If you insist. You can bring my car back here. I’ll have it picked up tomorrow.”

Her eyebrows rose. “You would let me keep it overnight?”

“Of course. If anything happens to it, I’ll simply take it out of your hide.”

That made her smile, as he had hoped it would. As much as he liked his car, it wasn’t quite as important to him as Genae implied. He could buy a fleet of cars if he wanted. But he enjoyed watching Genae’s pleasure with the vehicle--not that he was stupid enough to offer again to buy her a car.

There was no more talk about the kiss during the drive to the house he maintained in a gated neighborhood on the Arkansas River. In fact, there was very little talk at all. Brian leaned back against his seat, trying not to be too obvious about watching Genae as she drove. And while they might not have talked about the kiss, that didn’t mean he stopped thinking about it, replaying it in his mind, wondering what might have happened if he’d taken the risk of carrying it further.

He’d kissed Raylene a couple of times during their few dates. They had been friendly kisses at the end of the evenings. Warm and affectionate, but hardly passionate. At the time, he’d considered himself holding back until Raye had a chance to decide what she wanted from their relationship. Only now did he realize that he’s subconsciously sensed that they weren’t right for each other, no matter how diligently he had tried to convince himself that they were.

It had been easier with Raylene, in some ways. He’d known exactly where they stood and what he had thought he wanted from her. He had liked her, admired her, respected her. She’d met almost every qualification he’d listed.

When she’d been kidnapped, he had been frantic with worry about her, and guiltily furious that her association with him had put her in danger. But even then, Genae had occupied his thoughts almost as much as Raylene. He’d spent those days reassuring her that he would bring her sister safely back to her, and dealing with her fear and anger. He’d sat quietly while Genae had released her roiling emotions by yelling at him, and he had watched over her when stress and exhaustion finally caught up with her and she’d fallen asleep on his couch.

His resigned acceptance when Raylene told him there would be no future for them had proved his heart had never been involved in their experimental relationship. The quiet pleasure he’d felt when he’d realized that Raye and Jonathan had fallen in love demonstrated once and for all that he’d never thought of Raylene as more than a good friend.

His feelings about Genae weren’t nearly as clear-cut. Nor was he at all confident about how to proceed from here with her.

***

Genae was always uncomfortable in Brian’s house. Though there was nothing she would describe as ostentatious about the place, she saw signs of his wealth everywhere she looked. The strict security measures established by the community. The marble and crystal and fresh flowers in his foyer. The awareness that he could have almost anything he wanted at the touch of a button. And, even more incredible to her, the knowledge that this wasn’t his only home. He maintained apartments in at least two major cities--that she knew of, at least.

“Is there someone here to take care of you if you need anything?” she asked, moving around the quiet entryway, “A housekeeper or bodyguard or valet, maybe?”

“My housekeeper doesn’t sleep over. I don’t employ bodyguards for myself, and I’ve never in my life had a valet,” he replied, his expression a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

Feeling a bit foolish, she shrugged and handed him the plastic container of pills he’d been given at the hospital. “Take these when you need them. They’ll help you rest tonight. And don’t forget to see your doctor tomorrow, just to make sure there are no complications.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Do you want me to take your car to work in the morning? You can have someone pick it up there and I’ll hitch a ride home with Raye.”

“That’ll be fine....are you going straight home?”

She gave him a look. “Don’t worry. I’m not going joyriding in your car.”

“That isn’t what concerns me and you know it.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m going home. I plan to spend the rest of the evening doing laundry and watching mindless TV programs, okay? I’ll lock myself in and I won’t open the door to strangers. You can give your security guy the night off.”

He looked at her for a moment as if he were trying to decide whether or not to believe her--which only annoyed her more, of course--and then he nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She turned toward the door.

His hand was on the knob before she could reach for it. “Genae?”

Instinctively she tensed, anxious about what he might say now, “What?”

“It was more than blowing off steam.”

She didn’t have to ask him to clarify the quietly spoken remark. He was referring to the kiss she had been trying hard not to think about. Nor did she intend to ask him why he had kissed her, if not as an emotional release. When it came to Brian, she had decided that her new motto should be, “Better safe than sorry.”

Because she couldn’t think of anything at all to say, she kept her mouth shut, simply gazing at him until he smiled ruefully and opened the door for her. “Drive carefully.”

She nodded and stepped through the door, saying over her shoulder. “G’night, Brian. Take care of your arm.”

She almost ran to the car. She couldn’t help glancing in the rearview mirror several times on her way home to make sure Brian wasn’t having her followed--for her own good, of course.

He was becoming entirely too embroiled in her life. If she wasn’t very careful, he could invade it completely.

***

The rescue made the headlines. Genae heard about it the minute she walked into the shop Monday morning.

“I know Brian’s trying to make sure you and he are in the public eye, but does he have to be quite so dramatic about it?" Raylene asked, looking up from the newspaper spread on the counter in front of her.

“Very funny.”

“Jonathan almost went nuts this morning when he heard about this. He had to leave immediately to make sure Brian was okay. He’s probably still chewing him out for playing the hero and getting himself hurt.”

“I already gave him that lecture. He scared the shit out of me. But, really, Raye, what else could he have done? He pulled a little boy out of the car and then went back for the baby. If I’d been the one who’d gotten there first, I’d have done the same thing. Who wouldn’t try to save a helpless baby?”

“A lot of people wouldn’t--not if it meant risking their own lives.”

“Brian never even hesitated. I don’t think he gave a thought to his own safety.”

“He wouldn’t.” Raylene smiled and folded the paper. “He wasn’t acting the hero, he was simply being himself.”

“Let’s not get carried away with his praises.” Genae walked into the office to stow her purse and place the keys to Brian’s car in her desk drawer. She assumed someone would be along soon to collect it.

Raylene followed her into the room, “How is Brian, really? He told Jonathan on the phone that the burns were only superficial, but the newspaper accounts made them seem much worse.”

“I think you could say the truth lies somewhere between those two reports.”

“Did his arm look very bad?”

Remembering Brian’s raw, red skin, Genae nodded. “I’ve seen worse, but yeah, it looked painful.”

“You know, Justin and I can handle things around here today if you think you should spend some time with him.”

Genae looked at her sister blankly. “Why would I do that?”

“You know--to take care of him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Raylene made a face. “Honestly, Genae, he’s been hurt. He was burned saving lives. It just seems like it would be a nice gesture if you spent some time with him today.”

“He has plenty of people to take care of him. You said yourself that Jonathan rushed to his side this morning. Heaven only knows how many others did so.”

“I just thought you--”

“Don’t you start believing the stories, Raye. None of this is real.”

Raylene frowned, “His injuries are real. Even for the sake of the charade, don’t you think it looks odd that you aren’t with him today?”

“I don’t think anyone’s paying that close attention to us,” Genae returned. “Besides, he really wasn’t hurt that badly. It was hardly worse than a very bad sunburn. Painful, but not life-threatening.”

Raylene looked dissatisfied, “It’s your decision, of course.”

Genae saw no need to admit that she had tossed and turned for most of the night reliving those long minutes when Brian had been in the car and the smell of gasoline and smoke had been heavy in the air. She wouldn’t admit that his burned arm had been the first image in her mind when the alarm had awakened her from a fitful sleep.

Confessions like that would only encourage the disquieting matchmaking urge Genae had seen in her sister lately.

She glanced at her watch. “We’d better get to work. It’s almost time to open.”

She thought she did a fair job of hiding her distraction as she worked. Only a few times did someone have to say her name repeatedly to get her attention. She only stocked items on the wrong shelves twice, and incorrectly answered only a few customer questions. More than once she found herself standing beside the phone, one hand on the receiver, even though there wasn’t anyone in particular that she needed to call.

She worked through her lunch break, explaining that she wasn’t hungry when Justin offered to make a food run. Finally, at just after 2:00, she went into her office, picked up the phone and dialed Brian’s cell number. It was the number he’d given her to use whenever she needed to talk to him; he kept that phone with him at all times, answered it himself, and gave the number out only to a very few.

He answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Brian, it’s Genae.”

His voice changed instantly from brusque and businesslike to warm and intimate. “Hi, Gen...how are you today?”

She wished she knew what it was about him that even the sound of his voice made a shiver run through her. Sometimes she felt like a silly schoolgirl around him, foolishly impressed by his looks and his charm. “I’m the one who should be asking that question. How are you? Did you see the doctor?”

“First thing this morning. Jonathan accompanied me to the clinic.”

Genae laughed. “From your tone, I would guess that he dragged you to the doctor’s office.”

“That’s another way of phrasing it. But either way, I’m fine. My doctor assures me I’ll heal completely. Probably won’t even scar permanently, except for maybe a couple of small spots.”

“So I guess you won’t need that tattoo, after all.”

“Only if you want me to get it.”

She wrinkled her nose, even though he couldn’t see the face she made. “I think we’ve covered this territory already.”

“Right. Just let me know if you change your mind. I was thinking of something along the lines of a skull with a rose between its teeth.”

She remembered the word he’d used when she’d described her “bad boy’s” tattoo. “Charming.”

“It could even have your name printed beneath it.”

“Gee, thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, the reason I called...”

“You mean it wasn’t just to hear my voice?”

“The reason I called,” she repeated firmly, “was to ask about your car. No one’s come by to collect it yet.”

“There’s no rush. My doctor doesn’t want me to drive for another few days, anyway, because of the meds I’m taking. And I have the Navigator if I need a car for any reason.”

He probably had access to half a dozen cars, she thought wryly. Which didn’t answer her question. “So what should I do about the Beamer?”

“Drive it,” he replied. “Keep it a week or so.”

She frowned, torn between the temptation of having his car at her disposal for a few days and suspicion of his motives for offering it. “What if something happens to it?”

“The car’s insured. Just make sure you don’t hurt yourself. Drive carefully and wear your seat belt. Oh, and don’t touch the exhaust pipe. It gets hot.”

“Very funny,” she muttered as he chuckled at his own witticism.

“Really, Gen, I don’t need the car right now and you enjoy driving it. So why not? I’ll take it back as soon as my arm’s better.”

She wasn’t made of stone. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be careful with it.”

“I know you will. So how about picking me up for dinner tomorrow night? I’d ask you for tonight, but to tell the truth, my arm’s throbbing like crazy after the doctor messed with it today, so I think I’m just going to crash at my place and catch up on some paperwork.”

“Um--dinner? Tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’d like to go someplace public to show everyone I’m up and about. I’ve heard there are rumors going around that I practically toasted myself yesterday. That sort of gossip is bad for business.”

It made sense. She, of all people, knew how quickly rumors could get out of hand. “Okay, but let’s not make it anyplace fancy. I’m not in the mood for snooty.”

He chuckled again. “We’ll pick someplace busy and casual. Lots of visibility, plenty of background noise to cover our conversation. We could even have Raye and Jonathan join us and make it a party. How does that sound?”

Very safe. She didn’t quite trust herself to be alone with Brian at the moment. Not with the memory of his kisses so clear in her mind. “Perfect.”

“So you’ll pick me up around seven?”

“Fine.”

“Great. I’ll make arrangements with Jonathan.”

“See you tomorrow, Brian.”

“I’ll be counting the moments, darling.”

She hung up on him. And then she couldn’t help laughing ruefully at the sheer brass of the man.

To fulfill Genae’s request to keep the outing public and casual, the foursome chose a popular Italian chain restaurant in west Little Rock for dinner. The place wasn’t as crowded on this Tuesday evening as it was on weekends, of course, but most of the tables were still full.

Genae noted that several of the other diners recognized Brian, some greeting him by name. Little Rock was a relatively small community and the Littrells had been a familiar part of local society for years. Wearing a lightweight long-sleeved shirt to hide his bandages, Brian moved through the restaurant with his usual brisk confidence, showing no sign of weakness from his adventures Sunday afternoon.

Raylene and Jonathan were waiting at a table when Genae and Brian finally made their way across the room. Jonathan glanced up from the menu he’d been studying, “Well, if it isn’t ’millionaire investor Brian Littrell and his frequent companion.’”

“Very funny,” Genae said, sliding into the chair Brian held for her.

“Isn’t it strange that every article phrases that exactly the same way?” Raylene mused. “Is there, like, an official stylebook that tells reporters how to refer to well-known people?”

Brian shrugged as he took his own seat. “It just becomes habit. Once someone has been ’labeled’ by a reporter, the others repeat the label by rote.”

“Just as Jonathan is always referred to as Brian’s ‘close friend and business associate,’” Genae pointed out, repaying Jonathan for that “frequent companion” reminder.

Jonathan nodded. “Better than some things they could call me. I’m hungry. Anyone have a recommendation for a good dish here?”

They spent the next few minutes discussing the menu, then placed their orders. While they waited for their food to be served, they carried on the conversation over glasses of wine and slices of herbed bread dipped in olive oil and pepper.

Genae noted that Brian quickly changed the subject whenever his injuries or the rescue during which he’d incurred them were mentioned. It was obvious that he wanted to put that incident behind him. He was certainly not one to bask in his own heroics. He successfully diverted the conversation by asking Raylene how the wedding plans were coming along. Raylene happily obliged.

They were all well into their meal when someone suddenly slapped Brian on the back, hard enough to nearly knock him from his chair. Because they’d been so involved in their food and conversation, none of them had noticed the man’s approach until he struck Brian. Jonathan started to rise, his expression dark, his body poised for trouble, but Brian motioned him back to his seat after a glance over his shoulder.

“Hello, Peter,” he said, and Genae detected little pleasure in his voice.

“Littrell. Hope I didn’t hurt you just now. I forgot you got yourself injured over the weekend.”

Genae raised an eyebrow. She disliked the man on sight. Pompous and phony were the first words that jumped into her mind when she looked at him with his designer emblazoned clothes, his flashy gold jewelry and his fluffed-and-sprayed hairpiece. He looked familiar, she thought, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully at him and wondering if she had met him before.

“Everyone, this is Peter McMillan,” Brian said for etiquette’s sake. “Peter’s a local attorney I’ve had some dealings with over the years. Peter, these are my friends Genae Landon, her sister, Raylene and Jonathan Lawver.”

Genae knew who the guy was now. His tacky get-fast-money-for-every-imagined-injury television ads ran frequently on local cable channels. They were so annoying that she always pressed the mute button on her remote control when they came on.

Too bad she didn’t have such a button now.

McMillan looked from Genae to Raylene and back again. “Now, let’s see,” he said. “You were dating this one--” he pointed to Raylene “--and then you switched to this one, right?” His stubby finger stabbed in Genae’s direction.

He was talking to Brian, of course, but everyone stiffened. Jonathan started to rise again; Raylene rested her hand quickly on his arm. He subsided with a low growl and a glare at McMillan.

“Been reading the tabloids, Pete?” Brian asked quietly.

After glancing rather warily at Jonathan, the other man shrugged. “That’s where I find most of my clientele.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. But as it happens, Genae and I have been seeing each other for some time. You’ve made the same careless mistake others have--mixing up the twins.”

“Did I?” McMillan didn’t look convinced, but since there was no way he could prove differently, he settled for a cap-toothed smile. “That’s not hard to do when they’re so identically lovely.”

If he’d hoped to please anyone, he failed. Only stony silence greeted his compliment.

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around the courthouse, Littrell. Enjoy your dinner.”

Brian nodded and turned back to his food, apparently putting the other man completely out of his mind.

“I don’t know how you could be civil to that slime,” Jonathan muttered, his own appetite seemingly ruined. “I wanted to punch his smarmy face in.”

“And that would have landed all of us right in the headlines of the gossip rags again. And you in jail.” Raylene reminded her temperamental fiancé. “Brian handled the guy exactly right, cordially sticking with the stock response we’ve all been using for the past few weeks.”

“That rodent is a friend of yours?” Genae asked Brian in disbelief.

“Hardly. I’ve crossed paths with him a few times when his clients tried frivolous lawsuits against some of my business holdings. He’s never won, but I doubt that he’s given up. It galls him that I have money he can’t seem to get his hands on.”

“I’m with Jonathan,” Genae said. “I’d be tempted to punch his teeth down his throat.”

Brian smiled at Raylene, “Bloodthirsty pair we’re involved with, aren’t they?”

Raylene laughed and agreed. Genae turned her frown toward Brian. She started to remind him that he and she weren’t involved, especially not in the same way Raylene and Jonathan were, but the server appeared just then to ask if they would like dessert. The guys ordered sweets; Genae and Raylene both passed.

“I have to fit into a wedding gown in less than three weeks,” Raylene said with a smile.

“And Ill be wearing a snug-fitting bridesmaid’s dress.” Genae agreed.

Brian mugged for Jonathan. “You don’t think this piece of cheesecake will make me look fat in my best man tux, do you?”

“I don’t know.” Jonathan twisted in his chair to look over his shoulder. “I just hope my dessert doesn’t go straight to my butt.”

Because it was so rare for Jonathan to be silly, and especially so soon after he’d been glaring in anger, the others all burst into laughter. Several heads turned at nearby tables to look at them, and Genae was wistfully aware that they must look like two very happy couples. It was unlikely that anyone could tell only one of the pairings was real, or that she and Brian would go separate directions soon.

The thought made her amusement fade, though she made an effort to hold on to her smile--for the sake of the other diners and her companions.

They separated a short while later in the parking lot outside the restaurant. Jonathan and Raylene left in his car, leaving Genae to drive Brian home in the Beamer. She had planned to drop him off at his door and drive away without going inside the house herself. She should have known better than to make any plans where Brian was concerned.

“Come on, Genae, just for a minute.” Brian said as they sat in the car in his driveway. “I would really like you to see the painting I told you about.”

She sighed and turned off the car engine. “All right. But only for a little while. I have some things to do this evening.”

“Of course. It’s just that we can’t discuss the painting unless you’ve seen it first.”

That was true, of course. One of the things she and Brian had in common was a pleasure in art, and they frequently discussed the work of various artists. More often than not they even agreed on what they liked, though when their tastes differed, it was radically. She supposed there was little harm in looking at the painting he wanted her to see, as long as she was careful.

She’d been inside Brian’s house only two or three times, and had never gone beyond the front rooms. She glanced covertly around her as he led her down an art-lined hallway toward the back of the exquisitely decorated house. Each framed work was lit with cleverly placed spotlights, making her feel almost as if she were walking through a museum. Yet there wasn’t a cold or institutional feel to the place; she could rather easily picture herself decorating in just this way--if she had the money, of course.

He led her into a room that made her catch her breath in a wave of sheer envy. She thought of it as a combination library and gallery, with ceiling-high shelves of books interspersed with paintings and sculptures. A cursory glance at the book titles revealed an eclectic mix of titles, just as the artworks represented several artistic styles and disciplines.

“This room is fabulous,” she breathed.

“Thanks...I spend a lot of time in here.”

She glanced at the deep leather chairs scattered comfortably around the room, each accompanied by a reading light. “I imagine you do.”

He crossed the room and motioned to a painting above an antique mahogany library table. “This is the painting I told you about.”

Done in the impressionistic style, the painting depicted the historic Old Mill in nearby North Little Rock, an architecturally significant site that had been shown in the opening scene of the movie Gone With the Wind. The greys and browns of the concrete used to make the mill blended into the blues and greens of the surrounding water and trees. A touch of color in the background hinted at the onset of fall, as if the scene were poised at the brink of changing seasons. The sun seemed to be setting; long shadows deepened the corners of the canvas. “This is wonderful. You said it was painted by a teenager?”

“The son of one of my employees. I was his first paying client.”

“But you won’t be his last,” Genae predicted, imagining the generous sum Brian must have offered for the painting. “He’s very talented.”

“He’ll be even better when he finds his own voice. He’s still experimenting with styles. But I have no doubt he’ll be an important member of the art world in a few years.”

Genae found her attention turning from the painting to the man who owned it. Brian was a study in contrasts. This room was a prime example--mysteries and thrillers spine-to-spine with works on philosophy and economics, master paintings and sculptures displayed alongside the work of an ambitious teenager. It reminded her of the many roles she had seen Brian play--shrewd businessman, charming suitor, smooth operator on the social scene. She thought of his slick handling of the press, his cool rebuff of the obnoxious lawyer at the restaurant, the warmth of his relationship with his friends, and the dangerous look in his eyes when he had confronted the man who’d arranged Raylene’s kidnapping.

He fascinated her. Entirely too much. She pushed her hand through her hair and turned toward the doorway. “Thank you for showing me the painting. I guess I’d better be going now.”

He caught her arm. “What’s your hurry? Wouldn’t you like to stay and have a cup of coffee?”

“No, really. I need to...”

What? She was sure there was something pressing she should do, but nothing was coming to her at the moment. The closer Brian leaned toward her, it seemed the blanker her mind became.

How did he do that to her?

“The truth is,” Brian murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek, “I’m reluctant to see you leave. As I’ve said before, I enjoy being with you.”

She swallowed and told herself to look away from him, but his sparkling sapphire eyes held hers captive. “Brian--”

“Genae,” he said, and lowered his head just a couple inches more, so that his mouth rested lightly on hers.

Her lips brushed his when she tried to speak. “I really should--”

“Stay a little longer? Definitely.”

She shook her head slightly--which turned out to be a mistake since it only increased the pressure of his lips against hers. “I don’t--”

“Want to leave? Then stay.” He ran his hands down her arms, drawing her nearer.

Her mind seemed to be swirling, her thoughts getting all jumbled and confused. “This really isn’t--”

“A time to talk? I absolutely agree,” he said in satisfaction.

He pressed his mouth firmly against hers before she could stammer out any more unfinished inanities.

She could have resisted, of course. She could have pushed him away or turned her head or bolted from the room. All those possibilities, along with a few dozen more, flitted through her mind, but she didn’t act on any of them. Instead she just stood there, her eyes closed and her hands dangling uselessly at her sides.

He kissed her gently at first, his mouth warm and persuasive against hers. It occurred to her that tilting her head just a little to the right would give him better access. She discovered a moment later that she’d been right; this angle was definitely better.

He wrapped his good arm around her and increased the pressure of the kiss until her lips parted instinctively. She should have anticipated that Brian would take immediate advantage of that slight concession. He deepened the kiss, a bit tentatively at first, and then more boldly when he was met with no resistance.

Genae raised her hands to his chest, clutching his shirt. It wasn’t that she was trying to hold him there, she assured herself hazily. It was just that she needed the support; she was suddenly feeling a little dizzy.

Even as she allowed herself to linger in the embrace--even to participate in it--a distant part of her mind searched for rationalizations. She wasn’t sure she could get away with the emotional release excuse again--there hadn’t been any great crises to pump them up today. And she certainly couldn’t claim that Brian hadn’t given her a chance to turn away; he’d certainly initiated the kiss, but he hadn’t forced it. She could have stopped it at any time, and they both knew it.

She hadn’t wanted to stop it.

As it happened, it was Brian who finally lifted his head. He wasn’t smiling when he searched her face. He looked as though he was trying to decide what to say, which she found surprising because words always came so easily for him.

She bit her lower lip, at a loss for words herself. It was getting harder and harder to blithely ignore their kisses, harder to deny the fact that there was an attraction between them that only seemed to grow stronger as they spent more time together. What she didn’t know was whether that attraction was merely physical, at least on Brian’s part. If so, her identical appearance to her sister was definitely a troublesome factor in the equation.

She made herself release his shirt and step back, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’d better go,” she said, wondering why he was so suddenly being quiet.

“It is getting late,” he agreed, which surprised her all over again because she had expected him to urge her to stay a little longer.

She told herself she wasn’t disappointed that he hadn’t--and knew that she was lying.

Brian had already turned toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

Hadn’t she just observed to herself that he was a man of contradictions? She studied his back as she followed him down the long hallway, wondering why he had suddenly turned distant and unreadable. What thought had entered his mind to convince him that they should draw back before things got out of hand between them? It depressed her to wonder if he had been thinking of Raylene at the same time Genae had.

“You’ll drive carefully on your way home?” He asked at the door.

“Of course. Don’t worry about your car.”

“You know I’m not concerned about the car.”

“I’ll be careful,” she repeated.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. We need to talk soon.”

At that moment, she didn’t even want to know what he thought they should talk about. Right then, she just wanted to escape.

She needed to have a long, stern talk with herself.

***

Something had changed. Brian wasn’t sure when it had happened, but suddenly he found himself thinking of Genae in an all-new way. He’d already been aware of his physical attraction to her, but he had tried to convince himself it was a passing fancy.

The attraction wasn’t passing. Just the opposite, in fact.

After he and Raylene had parted ways, he had decided to reevaluate his plan to marry and start a family within the next year. He’d convinced himself that if it hadn’t worked out with Raylene--the ideal candidate--then it probably wasn’t meant to be at all. Maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a family man. He should be content with his success in business.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t have female companionship when he wanted it. He just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with any of the women he had dated in the past--not even the one he had proposed to before Raylene. The lovely starlet had seemed so crazy about him--until he’d pulled out the prenuptial agreement his lawyers had prepared. She’d certainly shown her true colors then, making it very clear that she had been more intent on winning his fortune than his heart.

Hadn’t he humiliated himself enough when it came to his awkward attempts at a serious relationship?

When he’d first met Genae, he would have said he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with her, either. Now...

Now he needed to do a great deal of thinking about what he really wanted with her.

***

Genae drove her own car to work on Wednesday. In a funny sort of way, Brian’s car had begun to represent the man, himself. Sexy, powerful, expensive, eye-catching, addictive. It wasn’t easy going back to her ordinary, functional economy car after driving Brian’s BMW for a few days. And it wasn’t hard to extend that analogy to her collaboration with Brian.

She was getting much too accustomed to having him in her life. To seeing him frequently, hearing his voice on the telephone. Having him touch her. Kiss her. It wouldn’t be easy to go back to her former life without him in it. A life that had been frequently stifling and vaguely unsatisfying before. She didn’t even want to think about what it would be like to return to those predictable routines now.

She had been at work for only an hour or so when her mother called. Raylene had made a bank run, so Genae left Justin in charge of the shop while she took the call in her office. “Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, honey,” Evelyn Landon, a native of Birmingham, Alabama, replied in her slow, soft drawl, “How’s the business going?”

“Great. We’re putting Bob on full-time starting next week, and we’re hiring another part-time clerk.”

“That sounds good. Maybe with more help, you and Raye can have a little more free time.”

“Maybe. Raylene’s going to want to spend time with Jonathan, of course, and she’ll need the freedom to travel with him when he has to go out of town. Justin and Bob and I will be able to run things when she’s gone, especially if we hire someone else for a few hours a week. We interviewed a woman yesterday who’s looking for ten to twenty hours a week, just to give her something to do while her kids are in school. Raylene and I both liked her, so we’ll probably give her a call later today and offer her the job.”

“Be sure you manage some free time for yourself,” her mother warned. “Raye doesn’t expected you to take on too much responsibility just because she’ll be a newlywed. You have a life of your own to live.”

Really, Mom? And what life is that? The cynical question flashed through Genae’s mind, but she kept it to herself, merely replying, “I know. I won’t overdo it.”

“See that you don’t.”

Genae smoothly changed the subject. “How’s everything there?”

Genae’s parents lived in Searcy, a medium-sized town an hour north of Little Rock. “Your daddy’s arthritis is acting up some, but everything else is fine here. Everyone’s getting ready for the big party.”

Secure in the privacy of her office, Genae made a face. Since Raylene and Jonathan had decided to be married at the church Raylene attended in Little Rock, some of her mother’s long-time friends had decided to hold a pre-wedding party in Searcy this weekend. It would be a big event, to be held at the country club their golf-obsessed father had joined years ago. It would be much more casual than the events Brian attended so often, but Genae wasn’t looking forward to this gala any more than she had the others.

She would know most of the people at this event, unlike the ones she had attended with Brian, at which nearly all other guests were strangers to her. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. People who had known her since she was in diapers showed no hesitation to comment on her personal life. She expected to field a lot of nosy questions about her relationship and her future with Brian--who, of course, would be accompanying her.

She predicted that several would point out that her 26th birthday was only a few months away, and that she didn’t want to wait too long to start a family. She would hear plenty of broad hints that she and Brian should quickly follow Raylene and Jonathan’s matrimonial example.

She hadn’t minded so much deceiving the press or the society gossips. But she was not looking forward to lying to the people she’d grown up among, talking about a future that wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t sure her acting skills were good enough to convince her old friends that she and Brian were in love, and had been involved for some time.

Her parents knew the truth, of course. Jonathan had insisted on telling them everything when he and Raylene announced their engagement. Raylene had been very closemouthed about her discussions with Brian before she met Jonathan, and her parents weren’t pleased to hear that she’d been considering a marriage that would have been little more than a convenient, businesslike arrangement.

They had reminded Raylene that they had raised her to understand the purpose and the sanctity of marriage. Just because a man and a woman liked each other and shared a mutual desire for children didn’t mean they should take marriage vows together. It was their mother who had added that a ticking biological clock was no substitute for a rapidly beating heart. Raylene had groaned in response to that overly fanciful analogy--as had Genae--but Raylene had finally convinced their parents that she had come to her senses. She and Jonathan were marrying for all the right reasons.

Like Genae, their parents weren’t happy about the elaborate charade Brian had concocted to divert gossip from his and Raylene’s former relationship, but they understood the reasons behind the scheme. They had seen how bothered Jonathan had been by rumors that he had disloyally pursued a woman who was already involved with his best friend. No one else could have known how hard Jonathan had resisted his feelings for Raylene for that very reason.

Evelyn and Daniel Landon had understood that embarrassment and concern for Jonathan’s feelings had dimmed some of Raylene’s sheer joy in her engagement. They had reluctantly conceded that Brian’s plan was worthwhile if it would draw media attention away from Raylene and Jonathan--and if Genae didn’t mind being the subject of public scrutiny, herself. They had known even as they spoke that Genae would do almost anything for her sister.

“Genae?” Her mother prodded, reminding her that it was her turn to speak. “Are you still there?”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, Mom. I got distracted for a minute. You said something about the party?”

“Yes. Everything seems to be on track, from what the hostesses have told me. They’re really going all out. Not that it will be anything like those fancy shindigs you and Brian have been attending, of course. I doubt this one will make the national society pages.”

“Good,” Genae said fervently.

“I hope Brian will manage to enjoy himself. He won’t know anyone, of course, and I’m not sure he’s used to small-town society. We aren’t exactly New York City around here. Heck, we aren’t even Little Rock.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. Brian has a good time wherever he goes. And he might have grown up rich, but he still grew up in Arkansas.”

“How is his arm? I’ve been so concerned about him.”

“He’s healing just fine,” Genae assured her, as she had the last two times he’d talked to her mother since Sunday.

“Did you see the new article in the state newspaper today? The interview with that woman whose children he saved? She thinks he’s practically a saint. She went on and on about what a hero he was to risk his own life to save her babies. And she said he’s called to check on them and he’s sent gifts to the children. I’m sure the national media will jump on this story.”

“They already have. And they’re probably embroidering it was we speak,” Genae said wryly. “By the time the tabloids report it, Brian will have saved a dozen kids and suffered grievous injuries, himself.”

“You’re probably right,” Evelyn agreed with a sigh.

“But he really was a hero on Sunday,” Genae added, for honesty’s sake, and because she knew her mother would like hearing it. “I’ve never personally seen a braver act in my whole life.”

“Have the reporters been calling you to ask about what happened?”

“A few called. I’ve simply told them that I’m glad the children are okay, and that I’m also relieved Brian wasn’t seriously hurt. Other than that, I have no comment--which frustrates them to no end, of course.”

“I must say you’re handling all this media attention better than I expected. I was afraid you might grow impatient with the silly speculation and lose that famous temper of yours.”

“It’s been a close call a few times,” Genae admitted. “I just keep reminding myself that this is all for Raye’s sake.”

“And you would do anything for your sister--just as she would for you.” Evelyn obviously took great satisfaction from that observation about her children’s loyalty to each other.

“I’d really better get back to work, Mom. Is there anything else you want to discuss before I go?”

“No. I just wanted to catch up with you. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Yes. Friday.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, Mom. Bye.”

Genae hung up the phone, then hid her face in her hands. She had known from the beginning that this plan of Brian’s wasn’t going to be easy. She just hadn’t realized exactly how complicated it would be.

Genae was almost relieved when Brian was summoned out of town for a business crisis late Wednesday afternoon. He called her at the shop to tell her he had to go, and to promise that he would be back in time for the party Friday evening.

“Are you sure you’re up to making a trip like that?” Genae couldn’t help asking.

His reply was tinged with exasperation. “Give me a break. A minor burn is hardly going to keep me bedridden. Despite your concerns--and Jonathan’s and Jason’s--I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”

She knew that, of course. Even if he did tend to downplay his injuries, and to deny the discomfort he must still be feeling, there was no reason Brian couldn’t handle a routine business trip. And his being gone for a few days would give her a chance to get her feelings about him under control. She had trouble thinking clearly when he was too close.

“Take care of yourself,” she said simply.

“You, too. And Genae...”

“Yes?”

“Promise me you won’t try to ditch the security detail while I’m gone.”

She groaned. “You’re going to have me watched the whole time you’re out of town?”

“Watched over,” he corrected her. “It will be public knowledge that I’ll be in Seattle for the next couple of days. I’m not leaving you completely unprotected while I’m gone.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe. I’ve been watching over myself for years.”

“Yes, but that was before I came along to complicate your life,” he reminded her. His cheerful tone didn’t hide the fact that he had no intention of allowing her to change his mind.

“You got that right,” she muttered.

“I’ll miss you, Gen.”

She frowned at the telephone, not sure if he was still teasing. He’d sounded serious that time. But he was a very talented actor, she reminded herself. “Well...um...have a good trip.”

He sighed heavily, the humor back now. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’d miss me, too. But that’s okay. I’m not one to give up easily once I set my mind to something.”

Now he was making her nervous. “Goodbye, Brian.”

“Bye, darling.”

She hung up before he could add whatever blarney he came up with next. And, dammit, she was going to miss him.

***

“I hope Brian gets here in time for the party.” Evelyn Landon looked out her living room window for the seventh time in the past hour.

“He said he would do his best,” Genae reminded her from a doily-decorated wing chair across the room. She glanced at her watch. “He still has nearly and hour to get here before we need to leave, and I gave him directions to the club if he misses us here.”

“I’m sure he’s trying his best.” Patting her spray-stiffened silvery hair, Evelyn stepped away from the window. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything, honey? Don’t you want a drink before you change for the party?”

Genae shook her head. “There will be plenty to eat and drink once we get there.”

A mixture of voices preceded three people into the room. Raylene, Jonathan and Daniel Landon had been out in the back yard to examine Daniel’s prized new bass boat, which Genae had already seen and dutifully admired.

“Brian hasn’t called?” Jonathan asked Genae.

“No. I guess he’s running a little late.”

“I hope he hasn’t been detained by a business problem,” Raylene frowned.

The seemingly casual remark fell rather heavily into the room. Genae imagined the others were remembering the same thing she was. The last time Brian had been detained on a business trip, he’d asked Jonathan to give Raylene a lift to his vacation resort. Before Brian had been able to join them there, Raylene and Jonathan had been kidnapped.

Realizing what unpleasant memories she had unintentionally invoked, Raylene spoke again quickly. “I’d better go change.”

Genae stood. “Yeah, me, too.”

Leaving Justin and Bob to close the shop, they had left early that afternoon, bringing their party clothes with them. Jonathan’s things had been stashed in Raylene’s old room; Raylene and Genae would dress in Genae’s former bedroom.

Genae and Raylene and both brought cool and casual dresses for the party. It was nice to be able to dress comfortably for a change, Genae reflected as she buckled the strap of one kitten-heeled sandal. Her feet were particularly relieved.

“You’re sure you’re okay about tonight?” Raylene asked as she stood in front of the mirror, fastening her silver hoop earrings. “I know it will be awkward for you, having to pretend in front of everyone that you and Brian are a couple.”

“We’ve been participating in that pretense for several weeks now.”

“Yes, but that was for strangers. This is different.”

Since Genae had just been thinking very much along the same lines, she couldn’t argue. “I’ll get through it. We don’t have to lie, really. Brian and I have been dating--we don’t have to explain why. We’ve never implied to anyone that we’re engaged or even discussing long-term relationships. All we have to do this evening is act like very good friends and answer any questions politely but vaguely.”

“You and Brian have become friends, haven’t you? I’ve noticed that you seem to enjoy being together.”

“Raylene...”

Her sister gave her an innocent look. “I’m not matchmaking. It was only an observation.”

“Huumph.” Unconvinced, Genae stood and stepped to the mirror, and picked up the hairbrush that had been lying on the dresser top.

There was an eerie sense of déjà vu to getting dressed in her old bedroom with Raylene. Evelyn had changed the décor of the room during the past 7 years since Genae moved out, transforming it from a teenager’s room to a guest room, but the furniture was the same. It didn’t take much imagination for Genae to see the room as it once had been, decorated with beads and stuffed animals and posters or singers. Raylene’s room had been “prissier”--lace and porcelain and Degas prints. The twins had always made an effort to express their individuality, and yet the bond between them had always been strong.

Things were changing, Genae mused wistfully. Not so long ago, she had been the most important person in her sister’s life. She was fully aware that she had now taken second place. When Raylene and Jonathan had children--and Raye wanted them soon--Genae would slip even further down the priority scale. As it should be, of course. She and Raylene would always be close, but Raylene’s first loyalty must be to her own family.

Evelyn’s voice cut through Genae’s temporarily melancholy, “Genae, honey, there’s a call for you. It’s Brian.”

Raylene frowned. “I hope he isn’t calling to say he can’t make it. Jonathan and I really want him to be with us this evening.”

Genae didn’t mention that she felt much the same way. As awkward as it would be for her to try to deceive her old friends and neighbors, she suspected that it would be even more problematic going to the party without Brian. There would be questions about him to field, speculation about whether they’d broken up, concerned reminders about how quickly time passed for a single woman approaching her thirtieth birthday. This was still an old-fashioned community in some ways. Women Genae’s age were expected to be married--or at least putting a great deal of effort into attaining that goal.

She walked to the kitchen to take the call, since there was no extension in her old room. “Brian?” she said while her mother hovered in the background, quietly unloading the dishwasher. “Is something wrong?”

“My plane was delayed a couple of hours in Dallas. I’m in Little Rock now, just leaving for Searcy. Do you want to wait for me there at your parents’ house or should I join you at the party?”

Because she knew what her mother would want her to do, Genae answered, “You can meet us there. Don’t rush. There’s no need to risk your safety trying to get here too quickly.”

“Okay. Sorry about the hold-up.”

“It isn’t your fault. Are you having someone drive you?”

“I’m driving myself. My arm is much better, hardly even sore now. Jason picked me up at the airport and dropped me off at my place, so I’ve got the car.”

Genae had convinced Jonathan to return the Beamer to Brian’s house while Brian was away, telling him--and herself--that there was no need for her to keep it any longer. “Be careful,” she urged again.

“I will. See you soon, gorgeous.”

For some stupid reason, she was blushing a little when she hung up the phone--and she was quite sure her sharp-eyed mother noticed. “Brian’s going to be a little late. He’ll join us at the club.”

“I’m glad he’ll be able to come. How is his arm?”

“He said it’s much better. It’s probably still more sore than he’ll admit, but he seems to be healing quickly.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Evelyn studied Genae’s black-and-white color-blocked sleeveless dress. “I like that outfit. Is it new?”

Genae lifted her arms and made an exaggerated runway model’s turn. “Found it on a clearance rack.”

“It’s very flattering. I’m sure Brian will like it.”

Uh-oh. Not her mother, too. “Mom, don’t forget Brian and I are simply putting on an act to draw gossip away from Jonathan and Raye.”

Genae knew now where Raylene had gotten that innocent-little-me expression she’d used earlier.

Her hazel eyes wide, Evelyn said sweetly, “I know, honey. I was just making a comment about how pretty you look this evening.”

“Right.” Genae didn’t believe her mother any more than she had her sister earlier. What was with her family today? Was the imaginary scent of orange blossoms clouding their thinking?

Surely they understood that she and Brian were completely wrong for each other. Genae had no interest in sharing his social fishbowl, watching everything she said or did in case it appeared in a gossip column the next day. And Brian was undoubtedly looking for someone more patient and biddable, more gracious and tactful than Genae. Someone like Raylene.

Daniel marched into the kitchen, frowning at his watch. “Shouldn’t we be going? We’ll be late. Genae, where’s your sister?”

Struck by nostalgia again--her compulsively punctual father had spent most of her life hurrying the family to one event or another--she smiled and said, “I bet she sneaked into Jonathan’s room.”

Daniel scowled, “Well, go tell them to hurry up. Folks are waiting for us.”

She kissed his weathered cheek as she passed him. “Yes, Daddy.”

***

There was already a good-sized crowd at the country club when they arrived, Genae following the others in her own car.

“See?” Daniel muttered when they gathered outside the entrance door. “I told you we’d be late.”

“We weren’t expected to be the first ones here,” Evelyn replied mildly. “Everyone will want to greet Jonathan and Raylene when they enter.”

Daniel tugged at the tie his wife had made him wear. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jonathan looked almost as enthusiastic as Daniel at the prospect of the evening ahead. Genae sympathized with both men.

The ballroom had been decorated in white gauze and gold lamé. Gold and white balloons floated serenely above the floor. Creamy candles and magnolia blossoms filled nearly every available surface. Genae could see the hand of Cassie Barnum in the decorations. It had been Cassie who had decorated for every dance and homecoming party when they’d been in high school together. Since graduation, Cassie, now a florist and mother of three, had decorated numerous weddings, parties, pageants, proms and other local festivities.

Cassie rushed forward to greet them first. She had gained forty pounds or so since high school, but her smile was still bubbly and infectious. “Raylene!” she squealed, hugging her old classmate. “You look beautiful!”

Raylene returned the warm squeeze, the motioned toward her fiancé. “Cassie Barnum, this is Jonathan Lawver.”

Genae almost laughed at Jonathan’s expression when Cassie promptly threw her arms around him. She hoped Raylene had warned him that their old friends tended to be a “huggy” bunch. He was going to be embraced by total strangers and welcomed like a long-lost son. For a reserved, undemonstrative man like Jonathan, it was going to be a long evening.

While the rest of the family was surrounded by friends, Genae became the point of Cassie’s attention. After the customary hug, Cassie asked, “Isn’t Mr. Littrell going to be here this evening?”

“Brian’s been delayed. He’ll be joining us shortly.”

“Oh, good. I can’t wait to meet him.” Cassie leaned closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is he really as handsome as he looks in photographs?”

“Better,” Genae answered candidly, thinking of the impact of his beautiful blue eyes when see up close and personal.

Cassie sighed, “Oh, my goodness. I just hope I don’t embarrass myself by stammering when I meet him.”

Genae’s response was dry. “I’m sure he’s used to it.”

Within the next fifteen minutes, it seemed that everyone in the room had asked her where Brian was. There was plenty of attention given to Raylene and Jonathan, of course, but Brian was considered the real celebrity. It wasn’t every day that a man who had been discussed in People, Forbes and Newsweek mingled among them. A man who had dated supermodels, dined at the White House and hobnobbed with captains of industry. Not only that, he was a real-life hero who rescued small children in his free time.

She stayed close to her parents as they worked the room, after discovering that people were less likely to get too personal about her relationship with Brian when her mother and father were standing beside her. There were several comments about Raylene’s new short hairstyle and how much easier it was to tell them apart now.

“You girls still look just alike, though,” he mother’s old friend Elsie Carpenter remarked, “It’s no wonder all those gossip columnists got the two of you mixed up.”

It made it easier for Genae to keep playing the part of Brian’s “frequent companion” when she had such validation that the plan had been successful. Among their friends, at least, it seemed to be taken for granted that the media had been wrong, and that the couples had been paired off this way all along.

She was chatting with her old history teacher, Mrs. Kinnelly, when a stir from the other side of the room caught her attention. Unless she was mistaken, her date had just arrived.

A moment later, she spotted him being escorted across the room by her mother. Evelyn clung to Brian’s right arm, looking so comfortable with him that one would have thought she’d known him forever rather than having met him only recently, “Look who finally made it,” Evelyn sang out cheerily.

Her pulse racing through her veins, Genae cleared her throat in an attempt to make her voice sound normal when she greeted him. She could only assume that her sudden attack of nerves was due to the knowledge that everyone in the big room was watching them. It surely wasn’t only excitement at seeing Brian again--even if he did look spectacular in his pale grey jacket, charcoal slacks and crisp white shirt. His bandages were hidden, and he looked completely healthy. His satin tie was a geometric print of greys and white, and had probably cost more than Genae’s clearance-rack dress.

Cassie wasn’t the only one who was in danger of stammering at the sight of him.

She was pleased when her voice came out steadily, “Hi, Brian...”

She should have been prepared for his next move--but she hadn’t been. She was in his arms with his mouth on hers before she could brace herself for the impact.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it still turned her knees to gelatin. She had to cling to his right arm for support when he finally drew back. She knew her cheeks were flaming. He’d kissed her right there in front of everyone--including her mother and her old history teacher!

She could tell from his wicked smile that he knew full well what he had done to her. “Hi, darling. Miss me?”

“Of course.” She lifted her chin and gave him a look that ordered him to behave. “How was your trip?”

“Much too long.” He turned his high-voltage smile on Mrs. Kinnelly, who was watching them avidly, “Hello. I’m Brian Littrell.”

Proving that even seventy-year-old women weren’t immune to his charms, the retired teacher tittered a little as she replied, “I know who you are, of course. And I’m Helen Kinnelly.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Kinnelly smiled at Genae’s mother. “Both of your daughters have found such polite young men, Evelyn. But I knew they would. You raised them well--even if Genae did raise a few eyebrows when she was a teenager.”

His arm around Genae’s shoulders, Brian chuckled. “I’ve always admired women with spirit. I bet you raised a few eyebrows in your day, as well.”

Mrs. Kinnelly blushed like one of the hundreds of schoolgirls she had taught during her career. “I got into my share of mischief.”

Brian winked at her then turned to greet someone else who was trying to get his attention, leaving the older woman smiling and fanning her face with one had.

“Can you believe this guy?” Genae asked her sister a short while later. “All he has to do is walk into a roomful of strangers and he suddenly has everyone eating out of his hands.”

Raylene looked across the room to the refreshments table where Brian and Jonathan had gone to fetch drinks. “He really is amazing.”

Following her sister’s gaze, Genae studied the two men. They made an impressive sight as they crossed the room. Brian so sleek and polished, Jonathan so solid and powerful. She doubted that many would have the courage to take them on.

There was no mistaking, in her opinion, who was the leader and who the second in command. Jonathan seemed to walk a half-step behind Brian, as if constantly guarding his back. Genae had never thought of herself as particularly drawn to powerful men--but she was definitely drawn to Brian.

She wasn’t the only one.

Cassie Barnum clutched her arm from behind. “Oh. My. God,” she murmured, staring at the men who had been delayed by conversation. “You were right. The photos don’t do him justice.”

Genae smiled. “I know.”

“And he’s obviously just crazy about you. You’re so lucky.”

Genae’s smile faded. Brian was a very talented actor, she could have said--but, of course, she didn’t. Brian joined them before she had to come up with a reply. “You aren’t talking about me, are you, love?”

Genae shrugged, “Actually we were talking about balloons and other things that are filled with hot air. I think your name might have come up in the conversation."

Cassie gasped, then giggled.

Knowing full well that he’d just been insulted, Brian grinned and lifted his punch cup in an implied “touché.” He turned then to Cassie, whom he’d met earlier. “Someone told me you’re responsible for the lovely decorations.”

She beamed, then said modestly. “Of course it’s nothing like you’re used to seeing.”

Brian assured her that he much preferred simplicity to ostentatiousness. Genae simply stood back and watched in resignation as he made another fan for life.

The more Brian impressed Genae’s friends, the more they seemed to become convinced that she should make sure she didn’t let him get away. Jonathan was unanimously approved as a mate for Raylene; and everyone seemed to agree that Brian suited Genae.

She lost count of the number of times she was asked if Brian had proposed to her yet. She found it especially ironic that many seemed convinced they were waiting to announced their engagement because they didn’t want to draw attention away from Raylene and Jonathan. She wondered what those same people would have said if she informed them that she and Brian were together specifically to draw attention away from the other couple.

The trapped feeling was growing in her again--trapped in a lie, and in a future that seemed to hold little excitement. It became more of an effort to keep socializing, to keep smiling and chatting and blithely deflecting personal questions.

She thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her real emotions. Though she didn’t try to convince herself she was as good at that sort of thing as Brian, everyone appeared convinced that she was having a lovely time at the party. Even her family seemed unconcerned. She should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to deceive a master deceiver.

“Need to get out of here for a while?” Brian asked in her ear.

She turned her head to find him standing very close to her, his expression entirely too knowing. “I don’t think we can leave yet,” she whispered. “There are going to be some speeches made for Raylene and Jonathan later and it will be rude if we leave before hearing them.”

“We could step outside for a few minutes. You can show me the gardens--maybe even scream a little, if you need to.”

She laughed at the thought of the attention a loud, unexpected scream would attract. “That would liven things up.”

“At least your smile is real now,” he observed, eyeing her in satisfaction. “Come show me the gardens.”

The temptation to get out of this room, if only for a few minutes, was simply too great. She turned to her mother. “Brian and I are going to step outside for some fresh air. We won’t be long, but send someone for us if the speeches start before we get back, okay?”

Evelyn smiled. “I wondered how long it would be before you would have to escape.”

So apparently she hadn’t fooled her mother very well, either. Was she really fooling anybody?

Genae was aware of the eyes that followed their path toward the exit doors. Everyone probably thought she and Brian wanted to be alone because he had been out of town for a couple of days. They would be surreptitiously checking out her hair and makeup when she returned, imagining invisible handprints all over her body.

She didn’t care what they thought. She had to get out. She was suddenly having trouble breathing in here.

They passed a crowd of older men swapping fishing lies in the lobby--Genae spotted her father among them--and then walked through the outside doors into the warm August evening. A group of smokers clustered under the awning just outside the door. Genae held her breath as she walked quickly through the cloud of smoke, merely nodding in response to their greetings.

Softly lit paths crisscrossed the gardens behind the club building. Planted with ornamental trees, rose bushes and a variety of other blooming plants, the gardens lay between the club and the golf course. Moonlight washed the landscape in a soft glow, glittering off the small lake in the center of the golf course. The scent of roses surrounded them, pleasantly replacing the smell of cigarette smoke.

A night for romance, Genae mused. And the perfect companion to share it with, she added with a sideways glance at Brian.

Be very careful, Genae.

Brian led her to a small bench set in a shadowy grotto formed by two spreading, lacy-leafed Japanese maples. The bench was just large enough to hold them both; he sat on her left so that his good arm was next to her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “I needed to get away from the crowd for a few minutes.”

“I could tell.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Was I that obvious about it?”

“Not to everyone else, perhaps. But I must admit I was watching you rather closely.”

Because that comment made her self-conscious, she looked away from him. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight. Raylene would have been disappointed if you couldn’t come.”

He ran his fingertips lightly down her bare arm. “Is Raylene the only one who would have been disappointed?”

Genae cleared her throat. “I’m sure Jonathan is glad you’re here, so he isn’t the only one having to deal with so many strangers.”

A faintly reproving note entered his voice. “You mean you wouldn’t have missed me at all?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted. Then, when his hand closed over hers, she backtracked quickly. “It’s nice to have an excuse to escape the crowd.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment--whether it was intended as one or not.”

His fingers were intertwined with hers now, their hands resting on his knee. Holding her hand in a moonlit rose garden. Creating a memory of a perfect romantic moment. She might never forgive him for this.

Genae slanted a look up at Brian, only to find him studying her face. His face was shadowed by the moon behind him, but she could see his eyes, steady and clear. “You really are beautiful,” he murmured.

“I look just like Raylene,” she answered gruffly.

“You do, of course. And yet there’s still a difference. Even when you wore your hair the same way, I could always tell you apart.”

She couldn’t really doubt him. It had always surprised her that he could tell them apart so easily, from the first time he’d met them. More than once he had breezed into the store, taken one glance at her before she’d had a chance to say a word, and said, “Hello, Genae.”

There were people who had known them for years who still couldn’t identify them with just a glance.

She clearly remembered those first few times he’d strolled into the shop, soft sandy blonde hair windblown, his bright blue eyes gleaming, his cheeks a bit reddened because it had been winter when he’d first started coming around. Everytime she had seen him, her heart had shown an infuriating tendency to flip over in her chest. Because she had known each time that he was there to see Raylene, she had greeted him with frowns and growls.

She’d told herself she didn’t trust this slick-talking, sweet-smiling Playboy millionaire as far as she could throw him. She didn’t like him hanging around her sister, and she nearly went ballistic when Raylene confided in her that Brian had been talking of marriage only months after he and Raylene had first met. Apparently he had developed a prosaic list of qualifications for a bride, and Raylene met every one.

Raylene had briefly considered taking Brian up on that offer. She’d told Genae that she would be foolish not to at least consider. She wanted marriage and children, and she had found a nice, successful, financially secure man who wanted the same things. Raylene hadn’t fallen in love with Brian--nor, she’d added, did he ever claim to be in love with her--but they had become very good friends.

Genae hadn’t bothered to closely examine her own passionate opposition to Brian’s calculated courtship of her sister. She had simply insisted that it was wrong, that Raylene deserved better than to be married because she fit some esoterically compiled profile. She’d pointed out Brian’s widely recorded history of short-lived relationships, and asked Raylene what made her think he would stay with her any longer than he had the others. She’d been convinced that Raylene would end up disappointed, disillusioned, and very publicly humiliated when he lost interest in her and moved on to someone else--another supermodel, perhaps.

She had been prickly and surly and outright rude to Brian when he’d dated her sister. He had been unfailingly patient and courteous to her in return. Which, of course, had only made her more disagreeable.

And now he had turned his attentions to her. She looked down at their clasped hands and frowned.

This just wasn’t right.

She made an effort to pull her hand away from his. “We should be getting back inside.”

He didn’t immediately release her. “What’s your hurry? We’ve only been out here a few minutes.”

“Yes, well, I don’t want to be gone too long. People might notice.”

“They’ll probably assume we’re out here enjoying a few kisses in the moonlight. Which is pretty much what we want them to think, isn’t it?”

She cleared her throat and tugged at her hand again. “Jonathan would probably appreciate it if you’d go back inside and talk to him. I can tell he’s getting a little stressed out by being examined and interrogated by so many people.”

“Jonathan’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.” Brian lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. “Don’t you like being out here with me, Genae?”

The caress made her shiver. And because that made her mad, she snatched her hand away. “I don’t want you to do that anymore.”

“What? Kiss your hand?”

“No. I mean, yes. That, too. Any kisses. It has to stop.”

“Is that right?”

She sprang to her feet. “Do not be all calm and soothing and polite to me. It drives me crazy when you do that.”

He laid his right arm along the back of the bench and gazed up at her. “I’m sorry. Would you like me to be agitated and impolite?”

“And don’t patronize me. I hate it when you do that, too.”

He rose and took a step closer to her. Standing with the moon behind him, he looked taller and dark and a little intimidating. She almost moved back a step, but wouldn’t give him that much pride. “What’s going on, Genae?”

“Nothing. I just think this is all getting out of hand. Reality is getting mixed up with fantasy, and I don’t like it. This is entirely the wrong time and place to discuss it, anyway, because anyone could come out here and overhear us and then all our efforts would be wasted.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. She couldn’t see his face, but his tone was somber. “This isn’t the time or place. But we do need to talk. Soon.”

Definitely something she wanted to avoid.

“There’s really nothing to say. We both know our parts. We both know what’s going to happen after the wedding. Why complicate things?”

He reached up to touch his fingertips to her flushed cheek. “It’s already gotten complicated.”

“Then we have to...what now?”

He had dropped his hands on her shoulders and was pulling her closer. “Someone’s coming,” he murmured. “Don’t want to be caught squabbling, do we?”

“I don’t know--”

She stopped in resignation when he kissed her. No one could accuse Brian of not fully playing his role. In fact, he kissed her with much more enthusiasm than was necessary to fool an incidental bystander. His mouth moved firmly over hers, warm and insistent, giving her little chance to resist. Or even to respond.

There was a new element to this kiss, she noted even as her mind began to cloud with that now-familiar haze. Not quite anger--but a new assertiveness that was likely a response to her efforts to take control of their temporary relationship.

As she had feared, Brian wasn’t going to be cooperative. She shouldn’t have been surprised, she supposed. He’d been a challenge to her since she’d first met him.

He lifted his head, took a quick breath, then kissed her again before she could step away. She couldn’t help responding this time, if only a little. Only for the sake of whoever was watching, she assured herself as her eyelids drifted downward. She would not be the one to ruin everything they had accomplished during the past weeks.

The undercurrents of irritation were gone now. Brian’s lips were more gentle on hers, more persuasive. Clinging to the lapels of his jacket, she tilted her head a bit to one side, changing the angle.

She didn’t know quite how much time passed before Brian finally drew back. She was chagrined to realize that he was the one who ended the kiss, without any urging from her. She blinked a couple of times--had the moon suddenly gotten brighter?--and looked around. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“My mistake,” he murmured and disentangled her hands from his jacket so he could step back.

She scowled at him, wondering if he’d ever really heard anything. Or had he been trying to prove his point that they had already crossed the line between playacting and actuality? “Dammit, Brian--”

He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “We’d better go back inside for the speeches. We’ll finish our talk later.”

As far as Genae was concerned, their talk was over. She hoped he’d gotten her message--but she had a feeling it had fallen on deliberately deaf ears.

***

It wasn’t possible for Genae to avoid Brian for the remainder of the party, of course--not without arousing curiosity in the other guests. She stayed close to his side, smiled at him and chatted with him, doing her best to look like one half of a very happy couple.

Raylene and Jonathan were called to the front of the room, where Raylene looked radiant and Jonathan uncomfortable as one old friend after another stood to wish the couple well in their marriage. A local videographer taped the entire proceedings as a gift for the couple. Genae held on to her bright smile even when several broad hints about the joys of wedlock were aimed directly at her and Brian. She really should be nominated for some sort of acting award this evening.

Whenever the strain became too great, she had only to look at Raylene and remind herself why she was doing this. Raye looked so happy. Even Jonathan, beneath his embarrassment, seemed to almost radiate contentment. He didn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but every time he looked at Raylene, it was obvious to anyone with only a modicum of perception that he was deeply in love with her. He wasn’t acting--Genae had no doubt that Jonathan’s feelings for her sister were real and lasting.

She was delighted for her twin. She really was. She believed that fate had brought Raylene and Jonathan together, and she hoped they would share a long, happy life. She said something along those lines when she was pressed into giving her own brief speech.

Brian’s words were saved for last. He took the microphone with the ease of someone who was quite comfortable speaking in front of crowds.

“My parents only had one child,” he said, smiling at Jonathan, “but fate brought me a brother several years ago. Now my honorary brother is getting married, giving me an honorary sister. I look forward to spoiling several honorary nieces and nephews. There’s also an old Irish blessing I know of that seems particularly suitable this evening. Raylene and Jonathan, ‘May God go with you and bless you. May you see your children’s children. May you be poor in misfortune and rich in love. And may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.”

She should definitely receive some sort of award, Genae mused again, her smile stretched across her face as she applauded along with everyone else. If there was a tear in her eye, she knew it would be attributed to sentimental joy for her sister. Which, of course, was the only reason she felt the urge to cry, she assured herself.

What else could it be?

***

Because Genae had brought her own car, she had the drive home to herself. Brian insisted on following her since it was rather late when the party ended. She was aware of his headlights in the rearview mirror all the way, but at least she didn’t have to try to make conversation with him during the ride. She turned the radio to a classic rock station, turned the volume up, and let the beat of the bass drown out her thoughts.

Brian parked beside her in the garage. She was already out of her car before he could turn off his engine. “There’s no need to come up,” she told him as he opened his car door. “It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired after your trip.”

“I thought we were going to talk.”

Clutching her things to her chest, she took a step backward. “Maybe you aren’t tired, but I am. I’ve been running all day and I have to work tomorrow.”

He must have seen the desperation in her face--or heard it, perhaps, in her voice. He didn’t press her this time, merely saying, “All right. Get some rest. We’ll talk later.”

“Right. Later.”

Much later, she told herself as she turned and hurried toward the elevator. Much, much later.

If she was lucky, that was one potentially awkward talk that she would be able to avoid for a long time.

***

Genae disappeared again Saturday night.

While it didn’t particularly surprise him this time, Brian was still furious that she would take such a risk again after implying that she wouldn’t. He wasn’t as worried this time that someone had grabbed her on her way home from work; he had no doubt that she had deliberately taken off again. Maybe just to prove to him that she could.

He never should have eased back on security, but he’d thought he’d made his point to her about being extremely careful during the next few weeks. He hadn’t expected her to ignore his warnings.

Aside from his very real concern for her safety, what was really eating at him was the question of who she was with. Picturing her with another man made a wave of fury crash through him, clenching his fists and tensing his muscles.

They were going to have to talk soon. Very soon.

He needed to make it clear that as far as he was concerned, the acting was over. He meant everything he said to her now--whether she chose to listen or not. He needed to make sure she understood that. And he needed very badly to find out if he was the only one imagining that she was having as much trouble separating fantasy from reality as he was. Hadn’t she said those very words in the garden outside the country club last night?

Was she really so opposed to the possibility that something could be developing between them? Was her disappearing act this evening a panicky reaction to the tension that had been building every time they were together?

He considered breaking into her apartment again, being there to confront her at whatever hour she came dragging in. He would demand to know where she had been, and refuse to leave until he had a satisfactory answer. She would be furious, of course. There would be a heated shouting match, which would allow him, at least, to vent some steam.

But he was getting to know Genae very well. She was looking for excuses to push him away, and he didn’t want to give her any more at the moment. He was going to find out what was going on with her, but he wouldn’t accomplish anything by fighting her. Not just yet, anyway.

Instructing his security detail to let him know when Genae was safely home, he prepared to spend the hours until he received that call pacing the carpets of his house.

He’d always considered himself a man of great patience--but Genae could try the patience of a saint. And he was definitely no saint. If he ever got his hands on her again, he would prove it.

***

Genae was expecting Brian’s call Sunday. She had half expected to find him waiting at her apartment when she’d gotten home at just after 1:00 a.m.

Since she didn’t believe for a minute that she had managed to slip away without him being notified, she was fully prepared for another lecture from him. She even rather looked forward to it. She’d been practicing her own responses all day. Such as how he had no right to ask her where she went or what she did. How hard she had been working to make his crazy plan work out, and how she deserved an occasional break from the pressure of that charade.

She almost hoped he would start something. It was easier to fight with Brian than to hold hands in the moonlight with him. She was more comfortable yelling at him; she knew what to do, what to say, and how to bring it to an end. She could slam down the phone or turn and storm away--actions she did well from experience.

She didn’t hear from him until late Sunday. She thought maybe he had called while she was shopping, but there were no messages on her answering machine when she returned home after lunching with a few friends. Feeling as if she were waiting for a shoe to drop, she spent the next couple of hours doing laundry, cleaning her apartment, replacing a missing button on one of her favorite blouses. Just typical weekend chores--and yet she kept listening for the phone to ring or someone to knock on her door.

For some reason, the longer Brian waited to contact her, the more annoyed she became. She knew he was going to chew her out about it. Why didn’t he just go ahead and do it?

By the time the phone finally rang early that evening, her nerves were a bit frayed--as he probably knew they would be, the rat. She answered the phone with a clipped, “Hello.”

There was a momentary hesitation, and then Brian asked pleasantly, “Is this a bad time?”

“Not really,” she said, setting aside the book she had just opened. Might as well get this over with.

“How has your weekend been?” he asked, the question sounding casual.

She shifted in her chair. “Fine, thank you. And yours?”

“Nothing special. I’ve been catching up on some work.”

“Same here.” Okay, could this conversation get more stilted and banal?

“Did you have a nice lunch with your friends today? I understand you tried out that new Mexican place. I heard it’s good.”

“Yes, it’s--wait a minute.” Annoyed with herself for being so slow on the uptake, she pounded her fist on her knee. “Dammit, Brian, you’re having me followed again.”

“Only since 1:00 this morning. I’m glad he was inconspicuous about it. I’ve given instructions for the security people to stay close, but to keep out of your way.”

“And just how often am I being followed?”

“As of 1:00 this morning, they’re operating in three eight-hour shifts.”

“I’m being watched twenty-four hours a day.”

“Discreetly. You’ll hardly notice.”

Her hand gripped the receiver so tightly that the muscles in her arm quivered. “You have no right to do this.”

His answer surprised her. “You’re probably right. I suppose I am crossing the line by assigning bodyguards to you against your will.”

“Then why--”

“Because Donovan has disappeared again,” he cut in bluntly. “We don’t know where he is or what he’s up to, and I won’t be comfortable about your safety until we know whether he’s in this country.

“When did this happen?” she asked, just as skeptically.

“We had a report on him last Thursday. It was believed he was still in Mexico. The authorities there were closing in on him, then he simply disappeared. The guy is slime, Gen, and he hates me. You know that. If he thought he could hurt me by hurting you, he would.”

As angry as she was about his methods, it was hard to yell at him for trying to protect her. Even if she did think he was overreacting. Even if she did believe he was being arrogant and high-handed in making decisions on her behalf without consulting her. Even if she did have a secret suspicion that he was more annoyed about her taking off without his permission than he was worried about Donovan.

While she appreciated the concern he expressed for her, she would not apologize for clinging to the last remnants of her privacy. This collaboration would end in a few weeks, and she would then have to go on as a single businesswoman facing her 26th birthday and trying to decide what to do with the rest of her life.

“I’ll be careful,” she told him. “Even though I sincerely doubt that Donovan is going to show up here, I’ll use common sense.”

“The bodyguards will leave you alone,” he promised. “They won’t interfere with any of your plans. But I’m going to have to insist that they watch over you for the next few weeks. Think of it as another measure to make sure nothing interferes with the wedding.”

Low blow. She sighed, knowing that further argument would serve no purpose. She had known when she’d impulsively slipped off again last night that there would be repercussions. Brian had been adamant from the beginning about the need for security as long as they were pretending to be lovers. And since Raylene had been kidnapped just for being associated with him, Genae couldn’t even accuse him of having no justification for his paranoia.

“I’ll be glad when this wedding is over so we can bring an end to all this,” she grumbled.

After a rather lengthy pause, he replied. “I’m sorry this has been so difficult for you.”

His tone was a bit stiff--as if, perhaps, she had hurt his feelings. And now she felt guilty on top of everything else. She hadn’t even realized she could hurt his feelings with a careless remark. “What I meant was--”

“Never mind. Now that we’ve gotten the security issue out of the way--once again--there’s something else I need to discuss with you. It’s a favor, actually, so feel free to decline.”

“What sort of favor?” she asked warily.

“It concerns my parents. There was an article in a national business journal last Friday comparing my business style to my father’s. The writer implied that my parents and I have been estranged since I went into business for myself. There was even a throwaway comment that my parents are elitists who don’t approve of my current relationship with a mere shopkeeper.”

“That would be me, I presume?”

“I’m afraid so. Anyway, as you know, I was quite busy Friday finishing up my business in Seattle and getting back to the party in Searcy, and I never had the chance to see the article. Apparently, my father just got around to reading it this morning. He was outraged by the assertion that he resents me because I’m a better businessman than he is. He phoned my mother, who took great offense at being labeled as a snob. Even though she is, and she’s well aware of it.”

Shaking her head at his matter-of-fact description of his parents, she asked, “So what’s the favor you want to ask me?”

“My parents want us to have dinner with them tomorrow evening. I’m quite sure they’ll make arrangements for a society reporter to just happen to wander by with a camera during the meal, at which time my father will make a grand gesture like toasting our happiness with my mother smiling mistily at us from his side. It will be an excruciatingly uncomfortable meal, but it won’t last more than a couple of hours at the most. Will you go?"

“You want to go?” Genae asked in disbelief.

“I would rather have a root canal. Without anesthesia.”

Now she was really confused. “So why are you asking me?”

“Because they’re the only parents I have,” he answered simply. “The article embarrassed them, and they’ve asked me to help them counteract it. They rarely ask me for anything, so I don’t mind doing them a favor every once in a while.”

How could she turn him down after that, even if she was still annoyed with him? Although she’d almost rather have oral surgery herself, than to participate in a just-for-show dinner with Brian’s difficult parents, she supposed she could suffer through it as a favor to him. He had gone to so much effort to make it to the party for Raylene and Jonathan Friday evening, and he’d been nothing but polite and gracious to her parents and their friends.

This guy was something else, she thought with a shake of her head. During the course of this one phone call, she’d gone from being furious with him for his arrogance to admiring him for his thoughtfulness.

“All right. What time are you picking me up?”

“You’ll do it?” He sounded surprised.

Had he really doubted that she would? “Yes.”

“Thanks, Genae. That’s more than kind of you.”

Even though he couldn’t see her, she shrugged. “I just get tired of the gossip--even in business magazines, which should be above that sort of thing. Your relationship with your parents is nobody’s business but yours.”

“I agree.”

She didn’t add that she found his filial sense of obligation rather touching, especially considering the pain his self-absorbed parents must have caused him in the past. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the family she had. Her sister, of course, and their parents who might not have been wealthy or socially prominent, but had always provided them with whatever they needed in addition to unconditional love and support.

So she would have dinner with Brian and his parents. After that would come the wedding, and then a few more public dates. They would keep the act going for a few weeks after the wedding, and then they would bring it to an amicable end, answering media questions with vague smiles and polite, “no comments.”

And then it would be over. As it had to be, she assured herself. No regrets.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as a root canal, I suppose.” Brian murmured as he drove Genae home from the exclusive downtown restaurant where they had spent the past two very long hours.

Genae ran her tongue experimentally over her teeth. She had never had a root canal, but she wasn’t sure it could be much worse than dinner with Brian’s parents. Her cheeks still ached from the fake smile she’d worn all during the meal. It hadn’t been easy--especially when his father continuously spoke to her as if she had the IQ of an average five-year-old and his mother asked a string of utterly inane questions about the shop.

Normally she would have let anyone else know exactly what she thought of their patronizing behavior. But these were Brian’s parents. She had restrained herself for his sake--and because she had solemnly promised Raylene that she would behave.

It had been a struggle, but she’d managed. She was rather proud of herself, actually. And thoroughly relieved that she would never have to go through that again.

“You really were great this evening,” Brian commented, proving that he’d been thinking along the same lines. “I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t too bad.”

He laughed and reached over to give her a companionable pat on the knee, through the thin fabric of her summery, cream-colored slacks. “You’re a liar. But I still appreciate what you did tonight.”

“I just hope we accomplished something. Except for the photographer who stopped by our table to snap a photo of your father toasting us--you predicted that to the last detail, by the way--no one seemed to pay much attention to us.”

“Don’t you believe it. Nearly everyone there saw us and recognized us. The ones who didn’t were informed of our identity by the serving staff and other diners.”

“And you think they’ll talk about seeing us all together?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ll suspect the dinner was specifically arranged for tonight because of that journal article, but it was obvious that we were all being pleasant and cordial. We might not have looked like a Norman Rockwell family, but we obviously aren’t estranged, either.”

His hand was still on her knee. Genae picked it up and set it firmly on the steering wheel. “Are you ever going to tell your parents why you and I have been seen together so often during the past few weeks? That we aren’t really a couple?”

Still grinning at the byplay with his hand, he shrugged. “Probably not. They aren’t really that interested in my social life. Who I see, or why. Unless, of course, there’s a chance that I could introduce Mom to someone from Hollywood. You know how she feels about anyone who’s ever been on a movie screen.”

“Yes, she makes that clear enough.” It hadn’t escaped Genae that his parents hadn’t even asked how his injuries were healing. She hoped they had asked during telephone calls, at least, or had expressed some concern for their son’s well-being.

After a moment, she asked a question that had been bothering her all evening. “How did you end up so different from your parents?”

He shrugged again. “I didn’t spend time with them. I was raised by a series of nannies and housekeepers. Spent some time with my maternal grandmother until she died when I was eleven. Mostly I just raised myself.”

She would not feel sorry for him, she told herself. It would be a tremendous waste of time to feel sorry for Brian. Instead she said merely, “You spoiled yourself rotten.”

He laughed. “You aren’t the first to say that.”

He pulled into the parking space next to her car and killed the engine. “Are you going to ask me up for coffee, or are you going to bolt again?”

She gave it only a moment’s thought. “I’m going to bolt,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt and reaching for the door handle.

He caught her arm, holding her in her seat. “What are you so afraid of, Genae? What do you think will happen if I come up?”

“We’ll fight,” she said promptly. “You’ll start lecturing me again about how reckless and irresponsible I am when it comes to the security measures you want me to take, and that will make me mad and we’ll start yelling at each other.”

“What if I promise not to fight with you? We’ve already settled the issue of security as far as I’m concerned.”

“Right. You have someone following me twenty-four hours a day whether I like it or not, and I’m supposed to accept that without complaint.”

“Exactly. So there’s nothing to fight about, right?”

“If you say so,” she muttered.

“Which brings us to what you’re really afraid of--that we won’t fight.”

She scowled at his hand on her arm. “Wanna bet?”

Ignoring her, he continued. “You’re afraid we’ll be alone up there together--not fighting--and things will start getting intense again.”

“That’s not--”

He reached up with his free hand to slide his fingers beneath her chin and turn her face toward him.

“We’d start kissing again--and you’d enjoy it. Again. And that scares you all the way down to your toes.”

“You obviously had too much wine with dinner.” She said, trying to sound haughty instead of panicky, “It’s gone straight to your head.”

“I had half a glass because my dad ordered a wine he knows I don’t like. You know I’m right, Genae.”

“About the wine? How could I know--?”

“About the kisses,” he interrupted with strained patience. “That’s what really scares you, isn’t it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Brian.”

His face was very close to hers now. “Then maybe you’re afraid of your own feelings.”

“That’s redicu--”

The man had an exasperating habit of kissing her right in the middle of her sentences. She had swallowed so many words lately, she’d probably gained an extra pound or two. He made her so damned crazy that she wrapped her arms around his neck and almost angrily kissed him back.

Twisting in his seat, he enveloped her in an embrace that nearly squeezed all of the air from her lungs. His mouth was hard and demanding on hers. There was nothing tentative about this kiss, no holding back on either side.

Brian had always been very careful to control his hands when he kissed her before; this time he let them roam. And, oh, was he good with them!

Her figure-skimming gauze top proved no hindrance to his explorations. For the first time, she felt the heat of his palms on the bare skin of her sides and her back. She’d fantasized about having him touch her more often than she cared to admit. And he was right--it scared her senseless.

Because she had also fantasized about touching him, and because this seemed like the perfect opportunity to do so, she unlocked her arms from around his neck and slid them down his chest. Her fingers flexed against him, testing the solid feel of him, and she marveled again that he was more firmly muscled than his slender build would indicate at first glance.

Her imagination was definitely in high gear now, as she imagined how he would feel beneath his finely tailored clothes.

She shuddered when his hands finally moved up her stomach, his thumbs moving lazily, yet skillfully, over the thin fabric of her bra. A sound escaped her, muffled by his mouth against hers.

Excitement and a growing need for oxygen were making her dizzy. She clutched his forearms, and she couldn’t have said whether her intent was to pull his hands away or to hold them more tightly against her.

This time it was Brian who made a choked sound. She knew immediately that it was not a murmur of pleasure. Realizing that she was tightly gripping his left forearm--she could feel the bandages beneath his jacket sleeve--she gasped, tore her mouth from beneath his, and immediately dropped her hands. “I hurt you arm. I’m so sorry--”

Shaking his head, he steadied her when she would have jerked away from him. “It’s okay,” he said. “You just happened to brush against the only small part of my arm that’s still a little raw. It was an accident, and no damage was done. I hardly even feel it now.”

She felt terrible that she had gotten so carried away with her own sensations that she’d forgotten about his injuries. “Are you sure you’re all right? Maybe you should--

“Genae,” he cut in firmly. “I’m fine. Really. It was just a twinge.”

Hastily rearranging her clothes, she wondered how on earth everything had gotten so out of hand.

Hadn’t they been arguing? Hadn’t she been intent on getting out of this car and safely locked inside her apartment to avoid any more kisses or serious conversation? Hadn’t she told herself before she’d left for this dinner tonight that if Brian did try to kiss her again, she would let him know firmly and finally that she wasn’t interested?

So much for even trying to pretend that she was completely unaffected by his kisses.

Brian shifted back into his own seat, carefully lifting himself away from the gearshift that must have been digging into him during their embrace. “I think I’m getting too old for make-out sessions in a little car,” he murmured. “Maybe I should buy a mini-van.”

Her hands were shaking when she lifted them to her tumbled hair. “Don’t bother on my behalf. This is not going to happen again.”

“You’re probably right. From now on, we’d better keep this sort of thing behind closed doors. We never know when a tabloid photographer might pop up.”

She groaned at the thought of seeing a front-page tabloid snapshot of herself and Brian groping each other in his car. And then, after processing everything he had said, she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. From now on, unless it’s necessary for the sake of our public act, no more kisses. Period.”

“And why is that?” He asked genially.

“Because there’s no purpose in it. No future to it. You and I will be going our separate ways in a few weeks, and I’m not interested in a temporary dalliance during that time.”

“And if I were to reply that I’m not interested in that either?”

Was he implying that he was thinking long-term? That he wasn’t planning to disappear from her life when the wedding was behind them and the need for deception was no longer an issue?

If so, he needed to be set straight about that, too. “Then I would say, good. I’m glad you aren’t going to be giving me any problems.”

He studied her in a way that made her wonder if he could see the nerves shimmering just beneath the surface of her deliberately stern expression. “I’m not sure you understood what I meant.”

“Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t understand,” she countered.

“And maybe we should wait and have this discussion another time. After the wedding, when some of the pressure is off.”

The only thing she intended to say to him after the wedding was, “So long, Brian. It’s been interesting.”

Keeping that thought to herself, she reached for her door handle. “I’ll see you Friday night at the rehearsal. I’ll be pretty busy until then.”

“I understand. You need some time to think about what’s happening between us.”

“Nothing is--” She stopped and drew in a deep breath, aware that nothing would be accomplished by an argument now. Not while her emotions--and presumably his--were still running so high. “Goodnight, Brian.”

“Goodnight, Genae.” He didn’t offer to walk her up, most likely because he knew she would refuse. She grimly suspected that he would know when she arrived safely to her door. He probably had someone posted in her hallway to report to him.

She climbed out of the car and started to close the door behind her. With a sigh, she paused and looked back inside. “Are you okay to drive? Your arm, I mean.”

His smile made her sorry she’d given in to the impulse to ask. Obviously he misinterpreted her very natural concern. “I’ll be fine, darling. But thank you for asking.”

She stepped away from the car and shut the door firmly. She didn’t slam it--no matter how irritated she was with Brian, she couldn’t bring herself to mistreat that beautiful vehicle--but she made her frustration clear. And then she turned on one heel and marched toward the elevator, her chin high, her shoulders squared.

“Do a guy a favor and look where it gets me,” she muttered under her breath, stabbing at the call button with her forefinger. “I sat through that God-awful boring meal with his parents, I smiled for that stupid photographer so they could pretend to be a happy family and what do I get for my kindness and generosity? A headache.”

Massaging her temples, she stepped into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. It wasn’t only her head that ached, she thought with a scowl, rubbing at another ache in the center of her chest. And that was one pain she was afraid would only get worse during the next few days.

***

Jonathan was unbelievably calm on his wedding day. Brian watched his friend in amazement, wondering why he wasn’t sweating or stammering or something.

Brian knew his old buddy didn’t like dressing up or being the focus of attention. And yet, here he was, dressed in a tux and preparing to step out in front of a church full of people--and he didn’t even look nervous.

He actually looked happier than Brian had ever seen him.

“You’re sure you want to go through with this, John?” Jason Colby asked as he adjusted the sleeves of his own tuxedo jacket. “I can smuggle you out of here before anybody catches on.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Thanks, but I haven’t changed my mind. I’m staying.”

Jason heaved a heavy sigh and looked at Brian. “She’s brainwashed him, boss. Got him thinking he wants to give up his freedom.”

“I’m thinking Jonathan’s not giving up anything. But he’s gaining a hell of a lot.”

Jason groaned. “Damn. You’ve been brainwashed, too. Next thing I know, you’ll be buckling a ball and chain around your own ankle.”

Smiling a little in response to his security chief’s broad Texas drawl, Brian thought of how closely he had come to standing in Jonathan’s shoes.

Twice he had proposed marriage, and twice his plans had fallen through. Now he couldn’t imagine himself waiting at the end of an aisle for either of the women he had considered marrying before, not even as fond as he was of Raylene.

He supposed he should consider himself lucky to have avoided making such a monumental mistake.

The minister entered the room, tapping his watch. “It’s time to line up, gentleman. We’ll walk into the sanctuary together as soon as the organist gives us the signal.”

Brian was amused that Jonathan stepped forward so quickly. “I’m ready,” he said.

The minister smiled. “I see that you are.”

Brian and Jason fell into step behind their friend.

A short time later, they stood together in front of the church. Groom, best man, and groomsman, standing straight and stiff in their tuxedoes as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

Brian didn’t know many of the guests, only a few business associates of his and Jonathan’s.

Raylene’s family and friends and members of her church made up the rest of the cozy assemblage. Her mother was already sniffling into a lace-edged handkerchief. She happened to catch his eyes; he winked at her, eliciting a watery smile.

The little flower girl, the five-year-old daughter of one of Raylene’s cousins, came down the aisle dropping rose petals from a beribboned basket. Her angelic face was creased in an adorable frown of concentration. There was no ring bearer; the rings were stashed securely in Brian’s pocket. At least, he hoped they were...

A quick, discreet exploration reassured him that the rings were exactly where they were supposed to be. He gave a small sigh of relief and turned his attention back to the wedding procession.

Another cousin of Raylene’s, Angie Parrish, served as bridesmaid, her curly auburn hair clashing cheerfully with her lavender dress. Brian had met her at the rehearsal last night. A resident of Birmingham, Alabama, she had a slow drawl and a quick sense of humor. He followed Angie’s progress down the aisle, and watched as she took her assigned place at the front of the church, opposite Jason.

When he glanced back down the aisle, he had the sensation of being kicked solidly in the chest.

Genae was coming toward him, her steps measured and timed to the music, her long, lavender dress fluttering at her ankles. She wore her hair up, baring her slender neck and shoulders, and she carried a small bouquet of white roses in front of her.

She looked so beautiful it made him ache.

He had the feeling she was deliberately not looking at him as she came up the aisle; she seemed to be focusing rather intently on the altar straight ahead of her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He was struck by the utter rightness of this moment--waiting for her at the front of a church.

What, exactly, did that mean?

Still without looking at him, Genae took her place. The organ music swelled and the audience rose to their feet as Raylene entered on the arm of her father. Brian glanced that way, noted that Raylene did, indeed, look beautiful--and then his eyes turned back to Genae.

Maybe she felt his attention on her. Or maybe it was only happenstance that she finally looked his way. Their eyes met, and held for so long that others must have noticed. But this was no act. It wasn’t romantic posturing for the sake of anyone who might be watching them. They looked at each other because they couldn’t look away--at least, he couldn’t.

The ceremony proceeded, and Brian and Genae managed to perform their responsibilities as best man and maid of honor. Brian got a lump in his throat when the minister pronounced Jonathan and Raylene husband and wife. He swallowed, then broke into a big grin when Jonathan kissed his bride. Genae, he noted, had a sheen of tears in her eyes, but he knew her too well to think she would let them escape.

He still remembered the day less than a year earlier when he had confided in Jonathan that he wanted to marry and start a family. Jonathan had listened to Brian’s carefully thought-out plan for finding the ideal bride and then had said it sounded to him like a disaster waiting to happen. He hadn’t understood why Brian was in such a hurry to get married or to have kids. As far as Jonathan was concerned, he and Brian were both better off being free of marital ties, able to concentrate on business, to travel at will, and to spend their time doing exactly what they wanted without worrying about checking in with anyone else.

Who would have believed then that only a few months later it would be Jonathan taking marriage vows while Brian, still single, looked on?

Jonathan and Raylene turned to walk back down the aisle together. Brian stepped up behind them, offering his arm to Genae, while Jason and Angie fell in step behind them. He doubted that anyone else noticed Genae’s momentary hesitation before she rested her hand lightly on his arm. She was avoiding his eyes again. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“You look stunning.”

“Thank you.”

“Think we could bribe the minister to perform another ceremony? I’m game if you are.”

Her steps faltered a moment. Through a frozen smile, she hissed at him. “That isn’t funny. Behave yourself.”

He wondered what she would say if he told her that he wasn’t entirely sure he’d been teasing.

***

Genae never expected that Brian would be a lifeline she would cling to during the wedding reception. She had planned to avoid him as much as possible while still carrying on the pretense that they were a couple. But as the evening wore on, she found herself using him more and more as a buffer between her and everyone else.

Brian was so good at this socializing thing. He knew exactly what to say in response to even the most trivial small talk. He was particularly adept at diverting questions he didn’t want to answer without offending the asker. Genae envied his tact and forbearance; she could have used a little of it herself.

She had developed a strategy of her own for coping with too-personal remarks. Every time someone asked about her plans for the future, she smiled, took a sip of champagne and let Brian field the question. Might as well make use of his talents for this one last big event, she rationalized.

“The band is very good,” Brian commented to Raylene and Jonathan after the cake had been cut and the first dance was behind them.

Raylene nodded in satisfaction. “They are, aren’t they? The lead singer is an old friend from Searcy. The band’s getting quite popular locally. I was lucky to get them tonight.”

Brian listened for another minute, his foot tapping in time to the beat, and then he asked, “Do they have aspirations of going national?”

Jonathan gave Genae a wry smile. “Apparently he’s considering getting into the music production business now.”

“I was just wondering,” Brian answered mildly.

Raylene put a hand on her sister’s arm.

“Genae--you will sing for me tonight, won’t you? You promised you would, you know.”

Genae took another quick gulp of champagne, “Um...”

Her twin smiled, not without sympathy. “Don’t try to weasel out of it now. I know you and the band have practiced and I’m holding you to your promise. For me.”

For Raylene. “Of course,” Genae replied. “I’ll sing for you.”

Having overheard her, Brian turned to look at her in surprise. “You’re going to sing?”

“Genae has a beautiful voice,” Raylene informed him proudly, “I sing well enough, but she got the real talent in the family. It’s just rare that anyone can talk her into using it.”

Self-conscious now, Genae shrugged. “Raye has always overstated my talent.”

“She promised to sing my two favorite songs,” Raylene said, leaning happily against Jonathan’s arm. “I begged, of course. Shamelessly.”

“And, as usual, Genae consented as a favor to you,” Brian returned.

Both Raylene and Genae looked at him in question at his tone. Jonathan frowned at his friend, apparently also hearing something that bothered him.

“Brian, you make it sound as though everything Genae does is for me,” Raylene said a bit hesitantly. “I certainly don’t--”

“Brian is well aware that I do exactly what I want,” Genae cut in, giving him a stern look that dared him to say anything to upset her sister this evening.

“And tonight you want to sing for your sister’s wedding?” He asked, his tone hard to read.

She lifted her chin. “Exactly.”

With a wry expression, he motioned toward the stage.

Draining her champagne, she set the empty flute on a table and moved toward the band, her long skirt swishing about her feet. Seeing her approaching, the lead singer, after finishing the number he’d been singing, motioned for her to join them.

“As a special gift for the newlyweds, the bride’s sister would like to sing two of the bride’s favorite songs,” he announced into the microphone. The statement was greeted by murmurs of pleasure and anticipation from the guests, who immediately gathered around the stage, led by the twins’ proud parents.

Genae wasn’t usually nervous when she sang. She’d been singing in public since her Bible School debut when she was four. She’d sung for big crowds and small groups, for close friends and total strangers--but she had never performed in front of Brian before. That made it different.

She looked at Raylene as she began. Her twin appeared so delighted that it encouraged her to put everything she had into the performance.

Standing on the stage in the dress her sister had selected for her; she sang the songs her sister loved. “Open Arms” and “It’s Your Love.”

It was sometime during the first song that Raylene stopped watching Genae and turned her eyes to her new husband’s face. He smiled down at her, and their eyes locked. Genae finished the second number with a wistful ache in her chest.

Her audience erupted into enthusiastic applause when she finished. Giving them a little bow of gratitude, she handed the microphone back to the band’s lead singer and moved to the three steps that led down from the stage.

Brian was there to take her hand and assist her down the steps, even though she could, of course, have handled them on her own. He leaned over to kiss her lightly when she stood beside him.

Because she knew that would be expected of them, she didn’t try to resist the kiss, though she didn’t exactly respond, either.

“Raylene didn’t overstate your talent,” he said. “You have an amazing voice. Absolutely beautiful.”

As talented an actor as Brian was, Genae had learned to tell when he was being sincere. He was now. Because that sincerity touched her, she smiled up at him. “Thank you.”

He squeezed her hand, them moved to stand just behind her while she accepted hugs from her sister and her parents and glowing compliments from the others there.

The approval was nice, of course, but it quickly became overwhelming. Somehow Brian knew the exact moment when it became too much for her. He moved to her side and slipped an arm around
her. “You must be thirsty after singing. Would you like another glass of champagne?”

She gave him a grateful nod. “Yes, I would. I’ll go with you to get it.”

As always, the crowd parted to allow them through.

“You really do come in handy occasionally,” Genae told him as she accepted a glass from him.

He lifted his own in a mock toast, “Just keep that in mind, okay?”

She sipped the champagne rather than attempting to answer him.

“We haven’t danced yet,” he reminded her as the band began to play again.

She was aware of that. She’d rather hoped to avoid it, even though she’d known the chances of doing so were slim. People would expect to see her dancing with Brian. And they did dance well together. The problem was, she enjoyed it entirely too much.

She downed several more swallows of champagne before Brian gently removed the glass from her hand and set it aside. “I think you’ve had enough of this for now. Come dance with me, Genae.”

She just hated it when he spoke in that particular tone. That low, sexy, intimate growl that made her knees go weak and her stomach all quivery. Really hated it, she thought as she moved into his arms.

You are such a liar, Genae.

“Raye looked so beautiful tonight.” Genae sniffled a little as she made the pronouncement, her voice muffled by the two bouquets she held to her face.

“She was spectacular. Watch your skirt.”

Obligingly lifting her long lavender skirt, she stepped out of the elevator. “That was so sweet when Jonathan kissed her just before he helped her into the car while everyone threw birdseed at them.”

“I’m surprised they weren’t attacked by a flock of hungry sparrows. Where’s your key?”

“Hmmm? Oh, it’s in my purse. Somewhere. I can’t believe my sister is married. Raylene Lawver--that sounds a little strange, doesn’t it?”

He dug into the tiny beaded bag she had carried to the wedding. “So she is taking Jonathan’s name?”

“Oh, sure. Raylene’s very traditional about things like that. Wasn’t she beautiful?”

Chuckling a little, he unlocked her door and opened it for her. “Almost as beautiful as her sister.”

“Mmm. She threw the bouquet right at me, you know. I had to catch it or get clobbered by it. Really made Angie mad--she was hoping to catch it.”

Ushering her inside, Brian closed the door behind them. “Why don’t you just sit down while I make some coffee?”

“I’ve got to get out of these shoes.”

Taking the bouquets, he moved toward the kitchen. “I’ll put these in the refrigerator so they’ll stay fresh. You take off your shoes and get comfortable.”

“Thank you,” she said very politely, sinking onto her couch.

His mouth twisting, he answered gravely. “You’re welcome.”

After stashing the flowers, he rummaged for her coffee and filters. It was a bit late for coffee, but Genae had sipped quite a lot of champagne during the reception. He understood what had made her do so. She’d been uncomfortable in her role as maid of honor, in addition to the continued part as his lover. And it had been an emotional day for her.

Raylene and Jonathan weren’t the only ones whose lives had been changed by their wedding, he mused. Genae had been accustomed to doing things with her twin, having Raylene as her best friend as well as her sister. Now they didn’t even share the same last name. While their feelings for each other hadn’t changed, their relationship would never be quite the same. Brian had seen the wistfulness in Genae’s expression when she’d watched Jonathan’s car drive away from the reception.

He’d been aware of similar feelings, himself. Jonathan had been his best friend since high school. They’d been through a lot together, raised some hell together, and built his business together. Brian had been accustomed to having Jonathan available to him at any moment’s notice. Having Jonathan’s first loyalty be to him.

That, too, had changed tonight.

“Brian?” Genae called from the other room.

He stepped to the doorway. She was sitting on the couch, her bare feet propped on the coffee table, her hair disheveled around her face. Apparently she had pulled the pins out, giving her a rumpled, just-out-of-bed look that made him have to clear his throat before he asked, “What is it?”

She frowned as though trying to remember. And then she nodded, “I just wanted to tell you there’s a plate of brownies on the counter if you’re hungry. They’re covered with aluminum foil. I made them myself--with pecans.”

“Sounds good. I’ll bring us both some.”

“Okay. You want me to make some coffee?”

He grinned. “I’ve got it covered. You just sit tight.”

“Okay.” She sighed and wiggled her bare toes.

Torn between laughing and groaning, Brian turned back to the kitchen, and reminded himself that a true gentleman would never take advantage of a woman who’d had too much champagne.

He knew Genae drank her coffee with cream and sugar. He balanced two filled mugs and the plate of brownies when he rejoined her in the other room.

“You’re pretty good at that. Don’t tell me you ever worked as a waiter,” she said, reaching out to help him set the things on the coffee table.

“Actually I did. The summer I was sixteen, I took a job at a pizza parlor because a girl I liked worked there--and because it ticked my father off that a Littrell was schlepping pizza. He made me quit after a few weeks. To be honest, I was relieved. I hated the job and I had discovered that the girl had the most annoying giggle I’d ever heard. Drove me nuts.”

Genae laughed, and he thought of how different it was with her. He loved hearing her laugh. He would like to hear it more often.

Sitting on the couch beside her, he placed a coffee mug in her hands. “Drink,” he ordered. “But be careful, it’s hot.”

“I’m not really intoxicated, you know,” she muttered into the mug. “Just a little buzzy.”

“I know. But drink the coffee, anyway.” He bit into a brownie. “This is great! You’re a good cook.”

Leaning close to him, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I used a mix. All I did extra was throw in a handful of chopped pecans.”

“They’re still good.” He finished the brownie and washed it down with a couple sips of coffee. And then he sat his cup on the table and leaned back, draping an arm casually across the back of the couch.

“Long day, wasn’t it? The best man gig was more exhausting than I expected.”

She gave him a pat on the knee. “You did very well. And your toast was great. I’m particularly pleased--for my sake and for Raylene’s--that you were able to announce that Donovan was captured in Texas and will be brought to justic for his part in Raye and Jonathan’s kidnapping.”

Apparently the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. She was still entirely too friendly to him. While he enjoyed it, he’d like to believe her affability was generated by more than champagne. Maybe food would help.

He reached for another brownie, broke off a corner and held it to her lips. “I thought you would like that. It definitely means we can ease off on the security a little. Not entirely, of course, since some crackpot could still try to emulate his scheme, but that’s unlikely. Here,” he added before she could attempt to argue that she no longer needed any sort of security. “Try some. It really is good. And you didn’t eat anything at the reception.”

“I was too nervous,” she admitted before taking the tidbit he offered her.

As a result of the feel of her lips against his fingertips, he had to clear his throat again before he asked, “Why were you nervous?”

She swallowed, then replied, “Lots of reasons.I was afraid I would trip over this stupid long skirt and fall flat on my face. I was worried about saying something stupid and embarrassing Raylene on her wedding day. I knew she wanted me to sing, and I was a little concerned about forgetting the words, since I didn’t know the songs very well.”

“You never told me you had such a gorgeous voice.”

She arched an eyebrow over the rim of her coffee mug. “The subject never came up.”

“I loved hearing you sing. You were wonderful.”

“Thanks. But, um, how much champagne did you have?”

He smile. “The champagne had nothing to do with my appreciation of your voice. Have you ever performed professionally?”

“Thinking of signing me as the second client for your music production company?”

“Jonathan was only joking about that. He knows I’m not really interested in starting a music production company.”

“All that hobnobbing in Hollywood, and you aren’t interested in the entertainment business?”

“I’ll stick with science and technology investments for now. You didn’t answer my question. Have you ever considered performing professionally?”

She shrugged and looked away from him. “I’m sure every young girl dreams at some point of being a famous singer. I did my share of posturing in front of my bedroom mirror with a hairbrush for my microphone. But I grew up.”

“You seemed to enjoy singing.”

“I like to sing occasionally,” she agreed offhandedly, setting her cup on the table beside his. “Not necessarily the songs Raylene selected, of course.”

“Oh?” He broke another bite of brownie off and offered it to her. “What type of songs do you prefer?”

Distracted by the conversation, she took the brownie. Again there was that pleasant fisson of sensation when her lips moved against his fingers. He watched her swallow before she answered vaguely, “A little of this, a little of that. Do you sing?”

“Teenage boys don’t perform with hairbrushes. We stood in the shower with a bar of soap pretending to be rockstars. In high school choir, I sang tenor--got a standing ovation for a few solos, actually.”

She’d tensed a bit when he’d pressed her about her singing. He was glad to see his self-mockery relaxed her again. “I bet that was something,” she murmured.

“I made musical history.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, letting his fingers linger to stroke her cheek. “I hope you’ll sing for me again sometime.”

A wave of pink stained the delicate skin he touched. “Well...you never know,” she murmured. “Um, do you want some more coffee or...or something?”

His fingers were tangled in her hair now, his other hand rising to her cheek. “I definitely want something,” he said, his mouth close to hers. “But not coffee.”

He heard her breath catch. Wide and wary, her eyes met his. He was glad to see that they were clear, no longer clouded by the champagne or residual wedding sentimentality. She knew exactly what he meant, and she was fully aware of what was happening--or could very easily happen--between them. She knew, as well, that he was leaving the next move up to her. He sat very still, their gazes locked, his mouth an inch above hers, just waiting for her signal.

He groaned in satisfaction when she lifted her mouth to his.

Genae wasn’t thinking clearly, but she couldn’t blame it on the champagne. The effects of that had mostly worn off by now. This lapse was due entirely to having Brian’s arms around her, his mouth on hers.

Common sense told her to put a stop to this right now, to pull herself out of his arms and to send him on his way before things could get out of control. And she would do just that, she promised herself. In a minute.

Her fingers slid into his hair. He kissed her until she could hadly breathe, and then he turned his attention to other parts of her, kissing her temple, her cheeks, the hollow behind her ear, and then trailing his lips down her neck to her bare shoulder.

He lightly nipped the skin there and she shivered. He was so very good at this.

He kissed the hollow of her throat, where her pulse raced so rapidly that he couldn’t possibly have misinterpreted her excitement. She knew it would be a waste of energy to pretend she wasn’t attracted to him, or that she didn’t respond to his kisses and touches. Only a fool would have believed her will-power wasn’t very shaky when it came to him--and Brian was no fool.

Emotions that had been simmering inside her for hours erupted to the surface, melting her control. All day she had been entirely too aware of him. She had felt his eyes on her as she’d walked up the aisle ahead of her sister, and all during the ceremony. He’d watched her as she sang at the reception and as she mingled with the other guests. And when they had danced, he’d held her within the bounds of propriety, but close enough to remind her how it felt to be pressed fully against him.

It felt fabulous.

His mouth was on hers again, moving more urgently this time. His hands raced over her, stimulating every nerve ending, leaving her quivering and aching for more.

They weren’t in his car this time. No one was watching them, and there was little chance of anyone interrupting them. Brian was making his feelings clear about how he would like the evening to end. It was up to her to decide if she wanted to spend the rest of the night alone.

Her hands cupping his face, she drew back to look at him. His face was a bit flushed, his soft hair tumbled from her hands, his eyes glittering and heavy-lidded. She felt the tension in him, the faint quiver of muscles held tightly under control. She was sprawled across his lap and the hardness against her thigh told her how strongly he, too, had been affected by their kisses.

There was no doubt in her mind that he wanted her, at least for tonight. And there was no question that she wanted him, either--or that she had wanted him for longer than she cared to admit.

She wasn’t sure she had the strength to send him away this time. Not tonight. But if she was very careful, she should be able to give into impulse just this once without having her life forever changed or her heart broken. It was simply a matter of keeping in mind that she and Brian were together for only a little while. That there was no future for them. Only tonight.

Tonight would have to be enough.

Still framing his face with her hands, she leaned forward to kiss him lightly. “Have I ever shown you the rest of my apartment?” she asked.

“No,” his voice was husky. “I don’t believe you have.”

“There’s not much,” she said, dropping another kiss on his firm chin. “Only a small bedroom. But the bed is big enough for two.”

Emotion flared in his eyes, but he remained still, speaking doubtfully. “You’re asking me to stay?”

“Yes. If you want to.”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Then stay,” she said simply.

“We need to talk.”

She kissed him again, letting her tongue sweep his lips, “We’ve talked enough tonight,” she murmured against his mouth.

His arms tightened spasmodically around her. “I hope this isn’t the champagne speaking.”

“It’s not the champagne,” she assured him, wriggling out of his arms. She rose and held out her hand to him, “Let me show you my bedroom, Brian.”

Holding her gaze with his, he rose very slowly and took her hand.

Genae soon found out that her imagination had been woefully inadequate. She had known he would look gorgeous beneath his clothes, but actually seeing him without a shirt made her breath lodge hard in her throat. Running her hands over his smooth, sleekly muscled chest, she reveled in his warmth. He still wore a small bandage on his left forearm, mostly, she suspected, to protect the raw skin from rubbing against his clothes. Even that looked enticing on him.

She placed her mouth against his throat, nibbling a line of kisses from his jaw to his shoulder and down to his chest. She felt the rapid rhythm of his pulse, and heard the increase in his breathing, and she smiled. It was nice to know she could affect him with her touch--after all, turnabout was fair play.

His hands moved behind her, and she felt cool air on her back as her long zipper parted. Moments later, the dress fell to her feet in a swath of glittery lavender fabric. She stepped out of it, leaving her clad in only a strapless bra and a lace panties.

She’d bought the sexy undergarments only the day before, even though she’d had other, more practical choices that would have sufficed. She supposed she’d suspected even then that Brian might be seeing them.

She was glad now that she’d gone to the extra effort. Brian’s eyes all but glazed over when he stepped back to look at her. Talk about a boost to her ego...

He moved quickly. One minute she was standing in front of him, and the next she was lying beneath him on her bed.

Her breathless laugh was smothered beneath his mouth. Her arms went around him and her bare legs tangled with his still-clothed ones. She was going to have to get those tuxedo pants off him--in a minute, she thought as she arched into his roaming hands.

Scraps of lace flew, baring her completely to his leisurely exploration. She couldn’t be still as he touched her with his fingertips, his lips and the tip of his tongue. She had to touch him, to move against him, to press her lips against whatever part of him she could reach.

Her hands finally found the fastenings of his pants and he cooperated as she unsnapped them, and then the pants joined her clothes on the bedroom floor. When the soft black cotton of his boxers followed, she thought she might very well hyperventilate.

She’d known from the first day Brian had strolled into her shop that she’d never met a man like this before. She’d been aware even then that he could be dangerous.

But this was no time for fear, and too late for hesitation. She pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and melted into him.

Passion flowed between them, so heated she wouldn’t have been surprised if steam rose from their dampened bodies. Their breathing was labored, their movements frantic.

Genae had never seen Brian when he wasn’t in control--not even when he lost his temper. He wasn’t in control now. While his actions were still skillful enough to drive her to the point of insanity, there was nothing calculated or premeditated about them.

For once, they weren’t putting on an act or performing for an audience or following a predetermined plan. They were just Brian and Genae, letting instinct and emotion guide.

Nothing had ever felt more right to her.

She pulled him to her with eager hands, her mouth fusing with his as he settled between her invitingly upraised knees. They fit together perfectly--but she shouldn’t read too much into that, she reminded herself, trying to retain a modicum of perspective even at that emotional moment. And then she couldn’t think at all. Didn’t even try.

She would have plenty of time to think later.

“Genae,” he gasped into her ear, body stiffening against hers.

Just hearing her name on his lips sent her over the edge. She was unable to speak coherently enough to return his name, but it echoed in her mind as she floated on waves of sensation.

Brian was the first to be able to move again, though she couldn’t have said how much time had passed before he did so. With a slight groan, he shifted to roll onto his back beside her, relieving her of his weight. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d stayed a while longer.

Scooping her against him with his right arm, he settled her into his shoulder, his other hand stroking her side, soothing her as she tried to steady her pulse and her breathing. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

“I’m fine.” she managed to say, though her tongue still felt thick and unresponsive. “Your arm?”

It seemed to take him a moment to understand the question, and then he replied, “Feels great. Just like the rest of me.”

She didn’t quite believe that he felt no discomfort at all after using his arm so strenuously, but she wouldn’t press him about it. She supposed he would tell her if he’d done any lasting damage.

Maybe.

The extremely eventful day seemed to be catching up with her. She was suddenly so tired she could barely hold her eyes open. A yawn escaped her before she could stop it.

Brian laughed softly and dropped a kiss on her temple. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured. “Don’t feel obligated to stay awake for my benefit.”

“Mmm.” she snuggled her face into the pillow when he slid out from beneath her.

She felt him return to the bed a short while later, but she didn’t rouse enough to try to speak to him. She needed to escape into sleep just then--away from the emotions left over from her sister’s wedding and the tumultuous romp she had just shared with Brian.

She could handle everything, she assured herself. She could move on with her life, get back to the way things had been, emerge unscathed from the events of the past few weeks.

But first she needed some rest. She fell asleep with her cheek on his shoulder and his arms around her. Just this one night, was her last coherent thought before blessed oblivion claimed her.

***

Even still half-asleep, Genae sensed that there was a reason she didn’t want to open her eyes Sunday morning. She burrowed deeper into the covers, trying to cling to sleep a little while longer, but something felt wrong. She always slept in an oversized t-shirt and panties, never naked. She wasn’t wearing a stitch now.

With a low moan, she finally opened her eyes, squinting against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. She was alone in her bed, thank goodness. She hadn’t heard Brian leave, but he must have slipped out sometime during the night. Whether it was to give her some privacy this morning, or because he hadn’t wanted to be stranded there with nothing to wear but a rumpled tuxedo, she couldn’t have said.

It chagrined her to realize that her bed felt suddenly big and empty without him in it. After only one night. It was just as well that there wouldn’t be any more.

She didn’t bother berating herself for her actions last night. She thought of that decision with a sense of inevitability. They had been moving toward that step ever since she had agreed to pose temporarily as his love interest. Call it curiosity or propinquity or at monumental lapse in judgement, but she had known it would happen eventually. Just as she’d known that once they had satisfied their curiosity--or whatever it was--they would have to move on in separate directions.

She didn’t spend a long time brushing her teeth, showering or pulling her damp hair back into a ponytail, but she didn’t waste a minute. She used that time to pull her composure together, lecture herself about keeping her feelings under control, and rehearse the things she would say next time she spoke to Brian.

She would be calm, collected and courteous as she explained to him that last night had been very nice, but it wasn’t going to happen again. Their lives were too different--they were too different--to maintain even a casual relationship. And as for anything else--that was entirely out of the question.

Not that she really believed he was considering anything permanent. She knew about that infamous list of his, and she was well aware that she met very few of his qualifications.

Dressed in a short t-shirt and long-slung jeans, her feet bare, she headed for the kitchen.

The sight of Brian standing in the sunlight streaming through the window over the kitchen sink drove most of her carefully practiced words from her mind. The sizzling smile he gave her effectively erased the rest of them.

“I brought breakfast,” Brian said, motioning toward a fragrant-smelling bakery bag on the table. “And I just started coffee.”

She cleared her throat. “I thought you’d left.”

“I did for a while. Ran home to shower and change,” he said, motioning toward his polo shirt and khakis. He’d left the bandage off this time, and while she could still see the reddened, burned areas on his forearm, they already looked much better than they had the last time she’d seen them.

She moved toward the cabinet where she stored coffee mugs, pulling two of them out to give herself something to do while she reminded herself of all the sensible things she’d intended to say to him. She only hoped she didn’t forget them again, she thought as he advanced on her with a gleam in his eyes.

“Do you realize that you haven’t even given me a smile yet--much less a good-morning kiss?” he asked.

She smoothed her hands down her jeans. “I, uh...”

He leaned over to plant a firm kiss on her mouth.

“Now how about the smile?” he asked when he drew away.

She gave him a quick, stiff smile in response. “That bag smells delicious,” she said, seizing on the first innocuous topic that came to her mind. “What did you bring us?”

He dropped his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place when she would have moved toward the table. “Gen, I know you’re a little nervous--that awkward morning-after thing, and all.”

“You’re right. It is a bit awkward. Maybe we should just have breakfast.”

“Fine. We can talk while we eat.”

“Talk?” She drew in a deep breath. “Maybe we should wait a few days before we get into a serious discussion. You know, just to regain some perspective after the wedding and...and everything.”

He shook his head. “Has anyone ever told you that it’s very difficult to pin you down for a serious talk? One way or another, you’ve been putting me off for days.”

“I really don’t see what we have to talk about. We’ve accomplished everything we set out to do. Your plan worked great. The wedding went off beautifully and with very little media attention since there was no juicy best-friend-betrayed angle to keep the tabloids interested. You and I had a nice little celebration of our success, and now it’s time to wind it down.”

She turned to pour herself a cup of coffee, speaking with her back to him. “Seems to me like the only thing left to talk about his how many more public appearances we need to make before we can quietly drift apart. Maybe if you start dating another cute little starlet in a few weeks, everyone will naturally assume you’ve lost interest in me and moved on to more interesting pursuits.”

Brian had remained silent while she made that extremely painful speech. “Are you finished?” he asked when she paused to take a bracing sip of caffeine. He spoke very quietly, no expression at all in his voice.

She set her cup down and braced herself on the counter with both hands. “I’m finished.”

“Good. Because that was the biggest load of garbage I’ve heard in longer than I can remember.”

Stung, she swung around to glare at him. “What?”

“You’re right. The ‘plan’ worked great. I’m glad we were able to take some of the pressure off of Raylene and Jonathan. The wedding was beautiful, they’re married now, and I’m sure they’ll live happily ever after. But to be quite honest, I’m not really interested in discussing their future right now. I’m much more concerned with ours.”

She shrugged. “We already know our future. I just described it.”

“I’ve already told you what I thought of your description. Garbage.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he surged on before she had a chance to speak. “Last night was not a casual celebration of the successful conclusion of a brilliant plan. It was a hell of a lot more than that, and it’s been building for a long time.”

“I--”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish--which was just as well, because she didn’t have a clue what she would have said.

Looming over her, he continued in clipped tones, “As for your clever suggestion that I take up with some ‘cute little starlet’--that’s not even worth the breath it would take for me to respond. Concerning the rest of your comments, I see no need for us to have any more public outings just for the sake of the media. We’ve put that gossip to rest and everyone has moved on to more juicy speculation.”

“Oh. Well, then.” If he really thought there was no need for further outings, then she could just end it now. It would be a great relief, she assured herself, not to have to deal with any more high-society events--wondering what to wear, how to wear her hair and make-up, what to say, or not to say. If she never heard another bored photographer call her name for a fake smile, she wouldn’t be at all disappointed. All in all, it would be beset to just call it quits right now.

She could deal with the aching hollow left inside her later. She would certainly have plenty of free time to do so once her fake relationship with Brian was over.

“From now on,” Brian added, “you and I will be together for no other reason than that we want to be. The media will have nothing to do with it.”

A dull pounding began somewhere in the back of her skull. So it wasn’t going to be as easy as she had hoped to break this off. And this was exactly why she had kept putting this talk off. Now she realized she should have made her intentions clear several days ago, before she’d given in to temptation.

It wasn’t going to be easy to convince him that she wasn’t interested in him when she had been all over him last night. And especially since she knew very well that she was head over heels in love with him--and probably had been from the first time he had walked into her shop. But that was something she could not allow him to see, since loving him did not make her right for him.

She chose her words carefully. “I’m sure we’ll see each other through Raye and John. Raylene enjoys entertaining, and we’ll be invited to dinner parties and that sort of thing.”

He was shaking his head long before she finished speaking. “I’m talking about us, Genae. You and me.”

“There is no us, Brian. It was all an act. Don’t start confusing that with reality.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Last night was no act.”

“Last night was...” she almost called it a mistake. She bit that word back because she didn’t really think of it that way. Maybe it had complicated things between them, but she had no regrets. She was going to savor those memories for a very long time.

“Last night was a one-time thing,” she said instead.

“You really think so?” he asked, his voice silky.

She lifted her chin. “I know so.”

“I’m wondering which of us is really denying reality now?”

She sighed and planted her fists on her hips. “Just what the hell is it you want from me, Brian?”

“I want you to marry me.”

Genae sagged for a moment against the kitchen countertop, needing its support. Of all the answers she had expected to her exasperated question, a proposal had not been one of them.

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked in a gasp.

Brian pushed a hand through his hair. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Then let’s just pretend you never said what you just said.”

“I’m tired of pretending, Genae. This is real.”

Taking a few steps away from him, she shook her head. “I think you should leave now. It’s obvious that we need some time apart--just to clear our minds and to put some distance between us.”

He watched her without making any move to follow her. “You think my mind is clouded?”

She took another few steps away from him. “I think you’ve gotten carried away by everything that’s been going on lately. You know, spending so much time together. You getting hurt. Dinner with your parents. The wedding. And, uh...well--after the wedding.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, an odd half smile playing around his lips. “Genae?”

Now she really was getting nervous. Why the hell was he smiling? “What?”

“Where are you going?”

She realized that she had inched so far away from him she was almost entirely out of the kitchen.

Embarrassed, she stopped and looked up at him. “I’m not going anywhere. You are.”

“I know you’re afraid...”

Her shoulders squaring, she drew herself taller. “I am not afraid of you.”

“You’re afraid of how you feel about me. I understand. It’s safer to protect yourself. To follow your predictable routines, keeping your parents and your sister happy, ignoring your own dreams and wishes.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think I haven’t gotten to know you during the past year? Everything you do is for Raylene--making sure she and Jonathan are together, going to so much trouble to see that the wedding was unspoiled. Even the shop was Raye’s dream, not yours--but you’re the one who’ll be doing much of the work there now that she’s married.”

That stung. She glared at him, almost quivering with temper and suppressed emotion. “And I suppose you consider yourself the well-adjusted one between us? You’re the one who went shopping for a wife as though you were looking for a promising new business investment. You’re the one who left a string of busty blondes to start tracking down a woman who fit some stupid list of wife requirements because you’re such an arrogant control freak you thought you could just order up a woman the way you would a pizza. And then, when it doesn’t work out with your first choice, you just switched over to her twin sister!”

She had effectively removed the smile from his face. When he moved toward her, she was unable to stop herself from taking another step backward. Not that she was intimidated by his fierce glare, she assured herself. She was simply moving out of his way if he was trying to leave.

He stopped directly in front of her. “I do not consider you to be a convenient substitute for Raylene,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Don’t you?”

“You know damned well I don’t. You’re using that as an excuse because you’re afraid to say what you really want.”

“What I want is for you to leave. Now,” she added, pointing toward the door.

He ignored her gesture. “I can’t believe you would imply that I would ask you to marry me just because Raylene chose Jonathan. Do you think I’m that shallow and...and idiotic?”

He was so mad he was shaking, she realized in amazement. As much as they had been through in the past few months, she had never seen him reduced to stammering. “I don’t think you’re shallow and idiotic. I think you’ve just gotten carried away. Everything’s been so hectic and Jonathan is so happy with Rayl--”

Brian held up a hand. “You’re right about one thing,” he cut in. “We need some time to calm down and get our tempers under control. I’m going to leave now. I want you to do some hard thinking about the time you and I have spent together. And I want you to remember that I have never confused you with Raylene.”

“Just go,” she whispered, horrified at the possibility that she might cry in front of him. “Please.”

“I’ll go. But I’ll be back.”

It sounded more like a threat than a promise.

Expecting him to walk out then, she was caught by surprise when he stopped in front of her, leaned down and planted a hard kiss on her slightly parted lips. “I will be back,” he said again, staring into her eyes for a moment.

And then he was gone, leaving Genae alone.

She missed her sister, she thought, sinking to the floor with her face in her hands. She missed all the dreams she had once had. Most of all, she missed Brian.

As badly as she hurt now, she knew she had done the right thing to send him away. Not even for Brian could she pretend to be someone she wasn’t. She wouldn’t repeat the mistake she had made with Kalob, trying to change herself to fit the image he had of the ideal woman. And unless she changed, she would never fit into Brian’s high-profile, socially conscious world. It was a disaster waiting to happen, and she wanted no part of it.

She was sure once Brian had time to think about how different she was from the woman he had hoped to marry, he would agree that she’d been right to send him away.

But it hurt---as nothing had ever hurt her before.

***

Brian couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so angry. He was known for having a coldly dangerous temper, soft-spoken and effective. Only Genae could push him into yelling.

He tried to spend some time working at home that afternoon, but he found himself unable to concentrate Instead he paced, muttering to himself as he did so. He still couldn’t believe Genae had accused him of using her as a substitute for Raylene. He knew she was scared and uncertain about their relationship, but that had been a low blow.

If he thought she truly believed it, he’d really be upset.

“Um...boss?” Jason looked up from his folder containing a report of Donovan’s capture at the Texas border. “Are you sure you want to discuss this today? You seem a little...agitated.”

Brian whirled to face his security chief. “Am I arrogant? A control freak?”

Jason looked bemused by the questions. “Just how do you want me to answer?”

“Honestly.”

Clearing his throat, his subordinate drawled, “Well...if by control freak you mean someone who’s sort of obsessed with having everything just the way they want it, someone who likes all his ducks in a row and doesn’t leave anything to chance, then yeah, I guess you’re a bit of a control freak.”

“And arrogant?”

Jason shifted in his chair. “Well...maybe just a tad. Not in a bad way, of course.”

“And do you consider me an idiot?” Brian demanded.

Jason looked intrigued. “Genae called you an idiot? You must have really hacked her off.”

“She didn’t actually call me an idiot. She just implied that I am one. Can you believe she accused me of thinking she was interchangeable with her sister? She implied that I’m interested in her now only because Raylene married John.”

“Well, aren’t you?”

“No, dammit!"

Jason tilted his head to one side, obviously interested by seeing his employer and friend so agitated. “No, I see that you aren’t.”

“What kind of man do you people think I am?”" Brian ranted, throwing up his arms as he spun to pace again.

“I take it Genae broke up with you?”

Brian didn’t usually unload his personal problems on his employees, or even his friends, with the exception of Jonathan. But Jonathan wasn’t here, and Brian needed someone to talk to. “I asked her to marry me.”

“Did you?” Jason didn’t look particularly surprised.

“She turned me down. She accused me of swapping her for her sister. And she called me an arrogant control freak.”

Jason smiled a little. “She does have a temper, that one.”

“Yes, she does. Entirely unlike Raylene, who is very slow to anger. Other than their appearance, they’re almost nothing alike. I certainly didn’t propose to Genae because she reminds me of her sister.”

“Then why did you propose to her?” Jason asked mildly.

That took him aback. Stopping in his tracks, Brian shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”

Leaning back in his chair, Jason laced his hands behind his head. “Yep. Why did you ask her to marry you?”

“For the usual reasons, of course. I enjoy being with her. I admire her and respect her. I think we’re very compatible.”

“She fits the list?”

“This has nothing to do with any list,” Brian growled. “This has to do with Genae, and the way I feel about her.”

“And how do you feel about her?” Jason asked patiently.

“I’m in love with her,” Brian snapped. And then he repeated it more slowly as the words sank in. “I love her.”

“Did you tell her that?”

Grimacing, Brian shook his head. “No.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I just told her I wanted to marry her. And that it had nothing to do with Raylene.”

“And you expected her to accept that without question. Even though you made the newspapers less than two years ago for being engaged to that bathing suit model. And only a few months ago you were talking to Raylene about getting married. Hell, I can’t imagine why Genae would have thought she was just next in line for a proposal, can you?”

Brian groaned. “You’re fired, Colby.”

Jason chuckled, not without sympathy. “For answering you honestly?”

“For making me realize that I have, indeed, been an idiot.”

“I wouldn’t say you’ve been an idiot. A little misdirected when it comes to romance, maybe, but how many men do you know who aren’t clueless when it comes to this sort of thing? I’m divorced, myself, you know. And it wasn’t so long ago that Jonathan was swearing he was never going to get married, and now he’s off on his honeymoon. So we are capable of changing--with the right incentive.”

Brian sighed. “I’ve got my work cut out for me, don’t I?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s going to make you crawl.”

Nodding in resignation, Brian turned toward the door. “I’ve got to do some thinking. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, sure. Um--you want me to keep going through this report, or should I be looking for another job?”

“Go through the file. You’re hired again--until the next time you show me up for the fool I am.”

“Nice to have job security,” Jason grumbled sarcastically, but Brian didn’t pause to respond.

He had to come up with a whole new plan.

***

The roses arrived at the shop on Monday. Two dozen of them. They were vivid yellow, tinged with fuchsia edges, the most unusual Genae had seen in a long while.

Nearly hidden behind the enormous bouquet, Justin carried them into her office. “Are these delicious or what?” he demanded, looking rather enviously at the blooms. “They must have cost a fortune. That man sure has a thing for you, Gen.”

Because Justin was one of the few people who knew the truth about why Brian and she had been dating, she made a face at him. “He’ll get over it,” she muttered, watching as he set the vase carefully on Raylene’s empty desk. “Just like he did all the others.”

“Mmm. I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve been watching the two of you.”

“Go tend to our customers, Justin.”

He grinned impertinently and flipped her the envelope that had been tucked among the roses. “Chicken,” he muttered as he left the office.

Genae felt decidedly cowardly as she held the small envelope in her hands, working up the courage to open it. When she finally did, she frowned as she read the words.

Genae, Raylene prefers pastel roses. These are much more suited to your tastes. Brian.

He was right, of course. Raye would have found these colorful roses a bit gaudy. Genae adored them. So what was Brian trying to prove? That he knew what sort of flowers she liked, just because he’d twice given her roses that she found beautiful?

Hardly a basis for marriage, she thought with a sniff, annoyed with him all over again.

But they really were beautiful, she thought, unable to resist leaning over just to inhale their fragrance.

***

On Tuesday he sent her a two-pound box of dark Swiss chocolates. And she suspected that he was well aware that Raylene didn’t like dark chocolates. Raye preferred milk chocolate, because she thought the dark kind was too rich. As far as Genae was concerned, the darker the better when it came to chocolate.

So Brian knew her tastes in flowers and candy, she thought, glowering at the beautiful gold box of sweets. So he noticed things like that. Was she supposed to be impressed?

***

The gift she received Wednesday was harder to brush off.

She carried the wrapped package to her office to open it away from her employees’ avidly curious eyes. What would it be this time? Jewelry? If so, she was sending it back immediately, she decided with a scowl. Surely Brian was aware that she couldn’t be bought.

Lifting the lid of the small box she had unwrapped, she frowned and lifted out a beautifully carved wooden box. Not just a box, she realized, turning it over. A music box. She wound it up, then opened the lid. Two intricately detailed plastic figurines inside began to twirl to the tinkling notes of “You Go To My Head.”

It was one of the first songs they had danced to together, she remembered. She had almost forgotten. It stunned her that Brian had remembered.

She closed the lid abruptly, stopping the music in mid-note. And then she picked up the phone and dialed his number without having to look it up.

“This has to stop,” she said when he answered, not bothering to identify herself. “No more gifts.”

“You haven’t liked them?”

“That isn’t the point, and you know it. It’s over, Brian.”

His reply was smooth. “Not by a long shot, darling.”

She hung up on him.

She wasn’t at all sure what she had accomplished with that terse phone call, but something told her it hadn’t been what she’d hoped. Just hearing Brian’s voice again had renewed the dull ache that hadn’t completely gone away since she’d all but thrown him out of her apartment last Sunday. And it had been clear from his tone that he had no intention of quietly giving up and going away.

She groaned and rested her face in her palms. Just what had she gotten herself into when she’d agreed to that crazy plan of his? And how was she going to get out of it without having her heart shattered in the process. Or was it already too late for that?

Genae didn’t bother trying to hide her actions as she left her apartment Friday evening, her car keys in hand. Now that Donovan had been captured and she and Brian weren’t seeing each other, she doubted that he was having her watched as obsessively as he had been before the wedding.

She hadn’t seen him since last Sunday. Nor had she received any more gifts from him since she’d called him Wednesday. Maybe he’d finally gotten the message. And maybe she would survive if she never saw him again, and there were times--particularly in the middle of the long, lonely nights--when she doubted it.

She couldn’t stand another quiet, solitary evening in her apartment, which was now haunted by his presence, especially in her bedroom. So, she had changed into a lace-trimmed black satin camisole and a short denim skirt that flared at her thighs and a pair of knee-high boots. She tousled her hair, applied smoky make-up and sparkling jewelry, and headed for the door. There was one place she could always go when she felt trapped or depressed, and she knew she would be welcomed there with open arms and no particular expectations.

It was exactly what she needed tonight.

She parked between two pick-ups outside a rustic looking establishment on the outskirts of Little Rock. Being a late summer evening, it was still light at nearly 8:00 p.m., but even in the dark she didn’t worry about entering this place alone. She spent a lot of time here, and she knew she always had an escort if she wanted one. This was where she had come when she’d needed a temporary escape from the stress of pretending to be involved with Brian, when she’d twice managed to elude his security guards for a few precious hours to herself. Several other patrons were in the parking lot, a few leaving, most just arriving. She nodded to the ones she knew and a few that she didn’t. It was that sort of place--impersonally friendly.

Inside, the lights were bright and the noise earsplitting. The décor was a cheerfully chaotic mixture of western and primitive--wooden floors, numerous wall-mounted shelves holding pottery, antique tools and dishes, and a clutter of other curiosa, mirrors framed in ox yokes and barbed wire. Patrons sat on stools at the long bar at the back of the room or at the many tables and booths scattered in the big, open dining space. At the far side of the room was a small stage where a band performed a loud mix of rock oldies and contemporary country hits. Through a big arched opening another room was visible, that one filled with pool tables and pinball machines.

The place was packed on this Friday night, as it usually was on weekends. The clientele here was rowdy, blue collar and proud of it. Genae felt right at home.

Curvaceous young women in tight t-shirts and tighter jeans moved among the tables carrying trays and taking orders. One of them spotted Genae and grinned broadly, her bleach blonde hair shining almost blindingly in the overhead lighting. “Hey, Sassy!” she called out. “You want a beer?”

“Sure.” Genae moved toward the bar, where she smiled at the burly bartender. “Hey, Joe.”

“Hey there, beautiful. Glad you could make it tonight. You gonna sing for us?”

“I might. First I want to play some pool.”

Joe nodded knowingly. “Stump’s back there. I bet he’ll take you on.”

She smiled and accepted a mug from him. “Thanks. Run a tab for me. I’ll find Stump.”

“It ain’t like he’s easy to miss,” Joe called after her, laughing heartily at his own wit.

Stump was definitely hard to miss, Genae mused as she entered the game room where a six-foot-six, three-hundred-pound former linebacker loomed beside a table, a cue stick in one ham-sized hand. He wore a faded, camouflage-patterned t-shirt that shrunk a couple of sizes in the wash, and a pair of jeans that dipped low enough to reveal a bit too much when he leaned over the table to make a shot.

Genae didn’t bother to modestly look away. She’d seen that particular view on more than one occasion.

She waited until he’d completed his shot, winning the game, before he spoke. “Hey, Stump.”

Having gloated his soundly defeated opponent, Stump turned with a broad grin splitting his ruddy face, “Hey, Sassy. Ain’t you pretty tonight?”

She lifted her face for his smacking kiss. “Thanks, Stump.”

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He searched her face with eyes that were much more perceptive than his appearance might have implied. “You okay?”

Her lower lip quivered just a little before she could stop it. “I guess you could say I’m suffering from a broken heart. I need some pool, some music...friendship...to console myself.”

She tried to speak lightly, to downplay her pain, but she must not have done a very good job.

Stump’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Who’s the jerk that hurt you, Sassy? It ain’t that wannabe cowboy again, is it?”

She shook her head. “No. I got over Kalob long ago. This was someone else. Another foolish mistake on my part.”

“Me and Paul will go have a little chat with the jerk, won’t we, Paul?”

The skeletally thin cowboy who had just been soundly defeated at pool nodded enthusiastically. “We can take him.”

Genae smiled and shook her head. “Never mind. How about a game, instead?”

Taking her hint to drop the subject, Stump shook his head. “You got your heart broken and now you want me to stomp on your pride?”

She reached for Paul’s pool cue. “We’ll just see whose pride gets stomped, won’t we?”

Stump slapped his friend on the back hard enough to rattle Paul’s prominent bones. “Rack ‘em up. I gotta give this sassy little lady a lesson in humility.”

Rolling her eyes in response to the over-the-top drawl, Genae picked up a square of cue chalk and prepared to forget her troubles for just a few hours.

She hadn’t realized that trouble had followed close on her heels.

***

Brian looked around curiously as he entered the restaurant/bar he’d been directed to by the bodyguard who had been assigned to discreetly follow Genae that evening. Funny. As well as Brian knew Little Rock, he’d never even known this place was here.

A busty brunette greeted him with a flirty smile. “Well, hello. I haven’t seen you here before.”

Brian gave her one of the smiles that rarely failed to achieve the results he wanted. “I haven’t been here before. Looks like a great place.”

Raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the band, she replied, “It can be, when things really get going. You want a table?”

“Actually I’m looking for someone. Genae Landon. Do you know her?”

The woman frowned a bit and shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe she isn’t here yet?”

According to the employee who had called him, Genae had entered this establishment just over half an hour ago. Brian shook his head. “I’ll just look around for her, if you don’t mind.”

The woman shrugged. “Help yourself. You can order at the bar, and if you decide you want a table, just give me a sign. There’s pool in the back room if you’re in the mood for a game.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded and moved away in response to a summon from a table crowded with three thirty-something couples who looked ready to place their orders. Not wanting to look more conspicuous than he already did in his pressed khakis and neat, buttercup yellow polo shirt, Brian moved to the bar, where he ordered a beer from an almost stereotypically jolly bartender and perched on a stool to survey the crowded room. He didn’t usually drink domestic beer, but that seemed to be the beverage of choice here. Had he been warned what the place was like, he’d have changed into jeans and an old t-shirt before coming.

He didn’t spot Genae among the diners or the few dancers crowding a postage-stamp-size dance floor. He couldn’t see into the other room from this angle; was it possible that she hustled pool in her spare time? At this point, nothing would surprise him.

Carrying his barely touched beer, he made his way across the room to the archway. A few women blatantly checked him out, sending him inviting smiles that he pretended not to see. Some of them were old enough to be his mother, others damn near young enough to be his daughter.

Where the hell was Genae?

He spotted her the minute he paused in the game room doorway. She was bent over a pool table, her short skirt just this side of decent as she expertly lined up a difficult shot with her pool cue. Half a dozen men stood around her, watching--no surprise, he thought with a scowl. She seemed to be pitting her skills against a man who was roughly the size of a redwood tree--he was even dressed in a foliage-print shirt.

With a sharp crack, her cue ball hit its target, and her audience cheered, sloshing beer and slapping each other on the backs.

“Damn,” her oversized opponent growled, shaking his head. And then he grinned and pulled Genae into an enthusiastic, one-armed hug that must surely have left a few bruises on her tender skin. “You are one hell of a pool player, Sassy.”

Sassy? Wasn’t that the name her father had called her when she’d rebelled as a child? Brian stared at her as she grinned up at the big man who held her. “Thanks, Stump,” she said. “But then, you taught me nearly everything I know.”

“That I did, kid,” he agreed, planting a smacking kiss on her nose before he set her back on her feet.

A man in a black and red Western shirt, so thin he almost rattled when he moved, stepped out of the group of watchers. “Play me next, Sass! I’m tired of getting beat by Stump. It’d be nice to be beat by someone prettier this time.”

“Give me a minute to finish my drink, Paul,” she replied, reaching for a half-filled mug sitting on a convenient ledge behind her. “Playing Stump always makes me thirsty.”

Brian moved swiftly, the mug in his free hand before her fingers closed around it. She turned in question, and her face went pale as her eyes widened almost comically.

“I believe this is yours?” he asked silkily, holding her mug out to her.

“What are you--how did you--you followed me here, didn’t you?!” she sputtered, her face suddenly flooding with vivid color.

“Well, to be accurate, I had you followed. Interesting place. Come here often?”

“Go away,” she ordered him, more desperation than anger in her voice now.

The huge man who’d hugged her moved close behind her, looking mean enough to intimidate a tank. “Is this the guy, Sassy? The one who broke your heart?”

Brian figured there was a very good chance that he was about to die. But he found some solace in the other man’s words. “She told you I broke her heart?”

“What makes you think I was talking about you?" Genae asked with a toss of her curled hair.

He smiled, “Darling, I know you were.”

Stump moved another step closer, and Brian could have almost sworn he felt the floor tremble just a bit beneath his feet. “Me and the guys here don’t like it when people hurt our friends, do we, boys?"

“No, we don’t,” Skinny Paul stood with his feet spread and arms akimbo to his nonexistent hips, trying to look as fearsome as his large buddy. “What did he do to you, Sassy?”

“He asked me to marry him,” she snapped, still glaring at Brian.

That was obviously not the response they’d been expecting. The men looked at each other and then at Genae. “Um...?”

“He asked my sister first.”

Half a dozen heads nodded in sudden understanding. “That was just stupid,” someone said.

Brian sighed. “Yes, I know. I made a mistake, okay? I was looking for the sort of woman who would have been completely and totally wrong for me. I know that now.”

“Anybody would be a moron not to want to marry Sassy,” an older man with a grizzled beard and a kindly smile offered from the other side of the room. “I’ve asked her myself about a dozen times, but she always says no.”

“Maybe ‘cause you already got a wife, Ernie?” Paul inquired.

The bearded man sighed. “I like to think that’s the only reason she turned me down,” he acknowledged.

“You don’t want to marry me,” Genae told Brian fiercely, green eyes unnaturally bright. “I’m all wrong for you. I don’t fit in with your fancy friends and your elegant parties. This is where I’m happiest.”

“Then we’ll spend lots of time here and avoid as many of those fancy parties as we can,” he assured her, loving her more every minute. “Personally I think you fit in quite nicely wherever you are. I, on the other hand, might have some adjustments to make. Stump, do you know where I can get one of those camo shirts?”

“I got mine at Wal-Mart,” the big man volunteered.

Paul sighed in disgust. “It was a rhetorical question, Stump. Be quiet and let the man finish begging.”

“I will beg, you know,” Brian said softly, still holding Genae’s gaze with his own. “I’ve never begged anyone for anything--I’ve never had to, nor wanted to--but I will this time. Nothing else has ever mattered this much to me.”

“I dunno, Genae. I think he’s serious,” Stump said in a stage whisper. “Did he beg your sister, you think?”

“She knows I didn’t,” Brian said flatly, setting both mugs on the ledge. “She knows full well that it never got that far between her sister and I--and that it never would have. Raylene and I knew we were wrong for each other even before we finally put it into words. She was in love with my best friend. And I was in love with Genae.”

The men looked confused again. Genae nearly choked. “You weren’t in love with me!”

“I think I’ve been in love with you for months,” Brian countered. “But, as both you and my friend Jason pointed out, I was too stupid and arrogant to realize it. And, besides, you said you hated me when we first met, remember?”

“I did hate you--I still do,” she added recklessly.

Stump shook his head and patted her on the shoulder, the friendly gesture nearly knocking her off balance. “Now, Sassy, you know you don’t mean that. He couldn’t have broke your heart if you hated him.”

“He has a point there,” Brian suggested hopefully. “Obviously a very intelligent and insightful man.”

Stump nodded amenably.

“I love you, Genae,” Brian repeated, moving so close to her that the others would have had to strain to hear his words above the background noises--and most of them seemed to be trying.

He watched her swallow, watched her eyes flood with tears. “I--”

“Sassy, come sing for us,” the waitress who’d told Brian she’d never heard of anyone named Genae Landon called out from the doorway. “The band’s all ready for you.”

Genae look dismayed. “Oh, no, I can’t--”

From the other room, a chorus of voices whistled and shouted.

She looked helplessly at Brian. “I--”

He leaned over to kiss her softly, then drew back. “Sing for us...Sassy. We all want to hear you.”

She moistened her lips, then turned and fled.

Genae was wondering if there was any chance that she was dreaming. Things like this just didn’t happen to her in real life.

Had Brian really followed her? Had he really just told her he loved her in front of a game room full of men? Had he really said he was willing to beg, if necessary? The thought of Brian Littrell begging for anything was enough in itself to boggle her mind.

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sing a note, but she was almost dragged onto the stage before she could pull herself together enough to protest. She was welcomed warmly by the band--the same ones who had performed at her sister’s wedding. Their old school friend, Jack, the lead singer for the increasingly popular band, smiled at her and handed her the mic. “What do you wanna sing, Genae?” He asked, the only one there other than the band members and Brian who even knew her real name.

“I, uh..." her mind was blank.

“How about ‘Down at the Twist and Shout?’”

“Yeah...that’ll be fine.” She cleared her throat and somehow found the mental resources to launch into the rollicking number made famous by country singer Mary Chapin Carpenter.

Brian was sitting at the table with Stump and Paul now, looking like one of their lifelong pals, which only added to the air of unreality that accompanied her performance. He was grinning and lounging with the ease of a man in his natural environment. Even here, all he had to do was walk in and he had a dozen new best friends, she thought in resignation.

Thundering applause followed the last note of her song, and while she enjoyed the ovation, she was well aware that generous mugs of beer fueled the enthusiasm for her singing. Brian was on his feet, clapping and whistling and generally making a fool of himself. She sent him a repressive frown and automatically followed along when the band began the next number, “It’s a Little Too Late.”

This was the music she truly enjoyed singing. Hard rocking tunes or foot tapping contemporary country. She loved bopping with the band, holding the microphone, hearing the audience cheering and clapping along. This was when she flew, free of the restraints of her everyday life. Jack sang backup for her; the leaned toward each other as they harmonized the lyrics about being up all night wondering what to do--and then acknowledging that it was “a little too late” to do the right thing and walk away.

A little too late to turn her heart around, she sang--and realized that the words were absolutely true. It was entirely too late for her to stop loving Brian. Entirely too late to do the right thing and forget about him.

She’d given him his chance. Now he was stuck with her. And he better not change his mind this time, she thought as she finished the song and watched him cheer again with his newfound buddies. She couldn’t help smiling as Stump slapped him on the back so hard Brian nearly tumbled flat on his face.

She turned to her friend and whispered into his ear. And then, while he talked to the band, she spoke into the microphone. “I would like to dedicate my final number to someone who’s waiting for an answer from me,” she said, looking directly at Brian. “I hope you find it in this song.”

The band played the opening notes to a blatantly romantic song made famous by an incongruously violent movie. First recorded by Trisha Yearwood, it was entitled “How Do I Live?” The lyrics asked how she could live if the man she loved left her life, taking with him everything that mattered to her. Without him there would be no joy, no sunshine--no love, she crooned.

She had previously considered the song a bit too syrupy, too dramatic. She sang it occasionally only because the band liked playing it for her. Now she sang it because she meant it. Maybe she could live without Brian--but she had discovered during the past few days that she really didn’t want to.

The applause was a bit more muted when she finally finished the number--or maybe she had just tuned out everyone but Brian, who was standing across the room, watching her without taking his eyes from her face. She handed the microphone to Jack and stepped off the stage, murmuring incoherent responses to the compliments she received as she crossed the room.

She stopped in front of Brian and gazed up at him fiercely. “Well?”

“I can’t live without you, either, Genae,” he said simply. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she murmured. “And if you change your mind, I swear I’ll...I’ll...”

“I’ll take care of him for you if that happens,” Stump offered, shamelessly eavesdropping.

“There you go,” Brian told her with a grin. “I have no choice but to love you for the rest of my life.”

“No,” she said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him toward her. “You don’t.”

She kissed him right there in front of the entire room full of people, sealing the deal.

“YEEEEEEHAW!” Stump shouted, waving an arm in the air. “Sassy’s done got herself engaged. Drinks all around to celebrate--and the rich guy’s paying,” he added, thumping Brian on the back.

Brian seemed delighted to oblige--or maybe was just scared not to, Genae thought with a happy laugh. She couldn’t really blame him.

***

“Gen?”

Arching into Brian’s lazily stroking hand on her bare, damp back, Genae responded without opening her eyes. She didn’t have the energy to do so. “Mmm?”

“How did you find that place, anyway?”

She smiled against his bare chest, her own hand making a leisurely foray down his hip. “I used to go there with Kalob. When we broke up, I got custody of the hangout and our friends there. Kalob quit showing up there when Stump threatened to use him for a pool cue.”

Brian chuckled. “Remind me never to get on his bad side.”

“No problem. By the time we left tonight, he was ready to marry you, himself.”

Laughing, Brian pulled her more snugly into his arms, nuzzling her temple. “Why didn’t you ever take me there before?”

She opened her eyes to look somberly at him. “I didn’t think you would be interested. And I didn’t want to face memories of you in the last place in my life you hadn’t touched. I thought it would hurt too much when you were gone.”

He shook his head. “You had so little faith in me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “Jason helped me understand why you found it hard to trust me at first. You do believe me now that I never loved Raye, don’t you? I only kissed her a couple of times, and I always had the unsettling feeling that I was kissing a cousin or sister. It never would have gone any further, no matter what I thought at the time.”

“I know. I can’t blame you for wanting to love her, though. Raylene is very special.”

“Raye is no more special than you are,” he said firmly. “I don’t know where you got a different idea, but it’s wrong.”

She smiled and kissed him lightly. “Thank you. And I do believe you, by the way. I’m not jealous of you and Raylene. I know you never cared about her this way. You never pretended to love her. And you aren’t pretending to love me. You really do, Heaven help you.”

He grinned and settled her comfortably on top of him. “I really do.”

She was already making some experimental moves--maybe she had a little energy left, after all--when he spoke again, “Genae?”

Looking up from the skin of his chest where she’d been lavishing attention with her lips and she asked distractedly, “Hmmm?”

“Do you want to sing? Professionally? Because if you do...”

“You would arrange it for me,” she finished, shaking her head. “I don’t want to sing professionally, Brian. I’m a shopkeeper who likes to sing as an occasional sideline. Maybe I’ll sing more often now that you’ve unmasked me, as it was, but I have no desire to tour or spend hours in a recording studio or anything like that--even if I were good enough to make it in that cutthroat business, which I doubt.”

He looked as though he would have argued that point, but she didn’t give him the chance.

“We’ll make our adventures together,” she assured him. “I think you’re going to find it as challenging to be married to me as I will to be Brian Littrell’s wife. Because I’m not going to change who I am--I couldn’t change even if I wanted to. But I think we’re up to the test.”

His hands moved eagerly on her, drawing her back down to him. “I’m definitely up to it,” he assured her.

She smiled against his lips. Somehow, she thought that old familiar trapped feeling was gone for good. Brian had freed her from her “cage”. Just as she had freed him from the baggage he had carried from his own past, the fears and insecurities he hadn’t realized he had when it came to love.

It was going to be a very interesting ride, she decided happily, but she had no doubts it’d last a lifetime.