“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.
