Model Behavior

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Model Behavior Copyright © 2008 by Janie Mason ISBN: 978-1-60504-211-4 Edited by Deborah Nemeth Cover by Angela Waters All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com

Model Behavior Janie Mason

Dedication

To David, for your endless love and support. You’re my rock. To Marcia James, for always being willing to critique. And to my editor, Deborah Nemeth, for everything.

Model Behavior

Prologue

Molly Birchfield awoke, aroused and on edge from yet another erotic dream. As she had on previous nights, she rushed to her pad of drawing paper and graphite. Her hand flew over the surface of the page. A smooth line curved from her dream man’s broad back down to a firm, bare ass, then continuing down to outline muscular legs. The pad of her ring finger smeared blackened shadows at the cleft of his tightened buttocks. During these feverish bursts, Molly wished she was a sculptor, able to run her hands along a three-dimensional version of the man’s delicious contours. Working her way up the model’s incredible body, she added higher definition at the trapezius, deltoids and triceps. Not wanting to distract from the musculature, she chose to forgo body hair in these drawings, even though the man who haunted her nights had a masculine layer on his legs, forearms, chest and groin. She decided to add the facial profile to the drawing later, concentrating instead on capturing the perfection of the body. It was always the same face anyway. Scott’s. Near sexual frenzy, she let that first sheet of paper flutter to the floor and began a frontal pose. She illustrated the outer curve of muscular calves, thighs and hips with clean lines. Her heart raced as she sketched the corded muscles of the abdomen that flowed www.samhainpublishing.com

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down to the groin. Male anatomy was no mystery to her, but she allowed herself to savor the mental image of her dream man’s semi-aroused penis before drawing it. Molly swallowed hard and then bit her bottom lip, lusting after his steely male thickness. In her dream she had reached out, weighing him, stroking him with her dusty palms. Then she had dropped to her knees… “Someday,” she whispered.

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Chapter One

It looked like a twelve-story phallus. Molly, a seasoned commercial artist, stared wide-eyed at the paper. What was I thinking? Her rough sketch of Thrillville Amusement Park’s newest ride, the Fall of Fear, too closely resembled a very enthusiastic male organ. How Freudian is that? Probably a safe bet to say this wasn’t the image a family-oriented theme park wanted to project. She glanced quickly over her shoulders. Hopefully, none of her co-workers at K&B Advertising had entered her cubicle and gotten a peek at her erection. Wasting no time, she crumpled the paper, hopped off her ergonomic stool and buried the evidence of her self-imposed celibacy deep in the wastebasket. Horniness aside, between the office’s stifling heat and her fatigue from another night of erotic dreams she was finding it impossible to stay focused on the theme park’s advertising. Even with the deadline a few days away. She closed her eyes to gather her wits, but couldn’t keep from fantasizing about Scott. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and trickled down her cleavage. Between her thighs she pulsed with a familiar, unsatisfied desire. Her hands were white-knuckled and www.samhainpublishing.com

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damp from gripping the edges of her design table, and she shifted uncomfortably on her stool. “Okay, this is a stick-up,” said a voice behind her. “Hand over your purse, nice and slow.” Molly’s eyes flew open as she felt something hard press into her spine. She hoped that, in her horny, daydream state, she hadn’t actually moaned aloud. “Oh, no.” She gasped in a mocking helpless-female voice. “Quiet,” the familiar voice said. “Follow my instructions and nobody gets hurt. Now, like I said, hand it over.” “But I don’t have a purse.” Molly tried her best to sound brainless and breathy. “Nice try, but I know different. I’ve been watching you for awhile now, girlie.” She couldn’t help but grin. “You’ve got a purse as big as a saddlebag, full of all kinds of female doo-dads.” “What?” Molly whirled and deftly slapped the fluorescent highlighter out of Scott McDowell’s hand. “I don’t own doo-dads. Take it back, McDowell.” Scott laughed at her semi-indignation and retrieved the marker from where it had landed in the corner of her cubicle. “Okay, okay, but what would you call all that crap you cart around?” His blue eyes twinkled in devilish amusement and, as he straightened, he ran his free hand through his thick blond hair. “The items in my purse are none of your business.” She pushed her plastic-framed glasses back up the bridge of her nose and pretended to be in a huff. “But, I repeat, there are no doo-dads.” “Jeez, what’s with you? I was just kidding around.” Scott leaned against the edge of her filing cabinet. In deference to the heat, he’d rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, abandoned his necktie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. A few tawny hairs teased her into contemplating the masculine chest beneath. She forced herself not to lick her lips. God, she wanted to jump Scott and rip off his clothes. He wore navy, pleated-front

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trousers, leaving her to wonder how much of the folds were filled with air and how much with…him. She’d been craving a cool shower all morning, and now she needed one for a reason other than the unbearable heat. Hoping he hadn’t guessed her line of thinking, she averted her gaze and dabbed a tissue at the moisture on her upper lip. Temperatures like this made wearing her thick hair in a tight bun sensible, but even it seemed to be melting, lilting slightly to the left of where she’d pinned it that morning. The K&B offices were sweltering, but one would never have known it by looking at Scott. Unfortunately, doing just that increased Molly’s body temperature a good thirty degrees. She looked and felt like she’d been standing all day in front of an open pizza oven, whereas Scott looked like a brand new Ken doll ready for an afternoon picnic with Barbie. “You’re a pod person, right?” she asked. “The air-conditioning is on the fritz, the building is about a zillion degrees, and you look like you just stepped out of a Saks Fifth Avenue ad.” “Bite your tongue. Saks isn’t a client. Yet.” He smiled, and the chill that zipped up her spine almost made her forget about the office’s current sweatshop conditions. “You up for some lunch?” he asked. “I thought you might want to hit Mickey D’s with me. The employees’ lounge is so hot you could fry bacon on the tabletops.” “Definitely. Let’s get out of here. I can’t function in this heat.” Molly’s baggy trousers stuck to her rear end as she stood, and she was horrified to notice circles of sweat under the arms of her blousy taupe shirt. If only Morton could see me now. He’d run the other direction. Molly shook off the threat of unpleasant memories. Trying to remember to keep her shoulders hunched and her arms down as much as possible, she flipped off the light over her drafting table and pulled her over-sized shoulder bag out of the filing cabinet. Scott followed her out of the maze of cubicles and through the front door. They decided on her car, and Molly raced across the lot to crank up the air-

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conditioning in the late model Accord. The initial blast of heat from the vents almost did her in. Now she knew why Scott seemed in no hurry to get in the car. She took her time cruising down Broad Street, giving the interior of the car a chance to cool. “So, what’s with the robbery attempt?” She repositioned a vent to blast cold air in her face. “Actually, I really am in need of some cash,” Scott admitted. “Fast. Got any ideas?” Scott needed money? Although he’d only been with the firm about six months, she’d assumed he made a decent salary. And he seemed to live within his means. “And before you suggest it, a real robbery is out of the question.” Molly had never worried about censoring her questions, so she plowed ahead. “What’s up?” “I’m a little tight on rent this month.” He hesitated, but then continued, “And, since I know you’re going to ask, I had something unexpected come up. Oh, what the hell, I had to bail my younger brother out of jail over the weekend.” “Brother? I didn’t even know you had a brother.” She glanced at him in surprise. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I mention Rob to people I’m trying to befriend. ‘Hi, my name’s Scott, and my brother hops back and forth between rehab and the county jail.’” Scott rested his elbow on the passenger door and gestured with his hand. “Rob isn’t exactly a bad guy, just stupid and irresponsible at times.” His voice trickled off as if he was lost in memories. “I know it’s none of my business, and feel free to tell me so, but what did he get arrested for?” “This time? Disturbing the peace. He insists it was his girlfriend who was making a scene, but he’s the one who got hauled in.” Scott swiped his hand down his face before continuing. “Once the cops had him, they found out about the fistful of parking tickets he’d shoved in his glove compartment.” “Hmmmm.” “Yeah, hmmmm,” he echoed, absently running his index finger in the dust on the dashboard.

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Molly cringed. She had enough trouble getting motivated to dust her apartment, let alone the interior of her car. “How much do you need?” “Five hundred.” Frustration was thick in his tone. She pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot and put the car in park, keeping both the engine and A/C running. “I’ll loan it to you,” she said, as casually as offering him a stick of chewing gum. “No way.” Scott shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t hit up my friends for money. I’d hoped you might have an idea how I could earn some extra cash, shortterm and quick.” “Sell plasma?” Molly gave him a smart-ass grin. “Everybody’s a comedian. I need serious suggestions here, Molly.” He made no move to get out of the car. “I was serious before,” she said. “I’ll loan you the money. I’ve got plenty in savings. It’s not a big deal, Scott. I know you’re good for it.” She attempted to scowl and added in a gravelly voice straight out of The Godfather, “Besides, I know where you work.” “Yeah, but this is new territory. We may eat lunch together almost every day, but you have no way of knowing whether I’d be one of those people who never repays a debt.” “It wouldn’t happen. You’re not like that.” Molly turned off the car. She might not know everything about Scott, but his character had always shown through. He was honest, hard-working and would never blow off a debt. The blast of heat that smacked her in the face when she exited the driver’s door had her hustling across the pavement, with Scott following close behind. She sighed aloud and savored the cool air inside the restaurant. Scott held the door open for an elderly couple and then joined her. “How do you know I’m not like that?” “I just do.” They chose the shortest line and continued talking, even as they studied the overhead menu board.

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“It’s hard to argue with that dazzling reasoning.” He chuckled. “If you were the type to welch on a loan, first you’d have to be the type to take the loan.” “I’m not taking your money. Now, let’s move on. Do you know of any short-term gigs?” Molly did know of one. One that she’d give anything for Scott to fill, but she couldn’t possibly tell him about it. “You could be a Chippendales’ dancer. Would five hundred dollars fit in a Gstring?” she teased, contemplating the restaurant’s combo options and the image of Scott in a G-string. Both had her mouth watering. “Shhhh.” He looked around. “This is a wholesome, family establishment. You know, Ronald McDonald, The Hamburglar, impressionable young children…” “May I help you?” A bored-looking girl behind the register poised her hand over the keys of her register. If her green-shadowed eyelids had been any lower, they’d be closed. Putting their conversation on hold, Molly and Scott ordered lunch and carried their red plastic trays to one of the few available tables. As they ate, she tried one more time to convince him to accept a loan. “I really don’t mind loaning you the money.” “But I would mind. I almost wish I hadn’t told you now.” “Okay, I won’t mention a loan again, but don’t be sorry you told me. You’re my friend, and I want to help you out.” Jeesh, he was stubborn, but she respected his determination not to let someone else bail him out. Twenty minutes later, their appetites were satisfied, but they still hadn’t come up with a tangible solution to Scott’s financial problem. He excused himself, while Molly stayed at the table, sipping her iced tea. There was an ideal solution to Scott’s problem she hadn’t mentioned. She battled her conscience, while idly watching the curly-haired twin girls in the next booth. Ever since Scott had mentioned his need for some quick cash, one thought had been bouncing around inside her head. She’d hired three other people for short-term

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assignments in the previous three months. And she still needed one more. Scott had been the unattainable ideal and, in truth, the reason she hadn’t begun the last piece in her series of drawings. But she didn’t dare risk using him. She had intentionally kept that part of her life secret from her employer and coworkers. No one at K&B knew about Molly Birchfield outside the office. And even though Scott had become her closest friend at work, she’d held her personal cards pretty close to her chest. All through lunch, she’d racked her brain, trying to think of a way to hire Scott and still keep her private life a secret. Suddenly, a rogue French fry whirled past her nose and snapped her out of her trance. “Sorry.” The embarrassed mother at the next table gave her a worn-down expression. One of the little girls taunted her twin by grabbing her French fries. “Megan, that’s it. Let’s go.” The frazzled woman took possession of the French-fryflinger’s Kid’s Meal toy, gathered their trays and emptied them into the nearby trash receptacle. Molly watched in fascination. Although the child followed closely behind her mother, her repeated demands for her toy’s return rose in volume until she was screaming. The other little girl was as quiet and obedient as a fawn. That’s when the idea came to her. It might work. After all, he hadn’t mentioned his brother until today. Molly chewed on the end of her straw, deep in contemplation. But I’d have to be so careful. One slip up and he’d know. Oh, but she wanted Scott for this job. Would he even agree to do it? She couldn’t venture a guess. What would it hurt to ask? After all, he wouldn’t accept her loan. This way, he’d have the money he needed. She could make sure he earned five hundred dollars. “Man, oh, man, is that kid loud,” Scott said as he rejoined her. “What did her mother do, pull out one of her toenails?” “She stopped her from winging fries at me,” Molly said, still debating the insanity of

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her idea. “The nerve of some people.” Scott grinned. “You ready to go?” “Almost.” She tried to muster her nerve. Could she really pull this off? “I’ve thought of something you might be able to do to earn the money, but I’m not sure you’d be interested.” “Are you kidding? Of course, I’m interested.” He spoke with so much excitement, guilt washed over her like flood waters. “Have you ever done any modeling?” “You mean for ads? No, but how hard can it be? You just stand there and smile. Any moron could do that.” “Sometimes, there’s a little more to it.” Molly tried to think of a way to present the offer in a good light. “Oh, like sometimes you have to hold your hand like this?” He mimicked a lifeless, staring mannequin. “Right, well, this modeling job is very specialized.” She blotted her mouth and upper lip with a paper napkin. Had the restaurant’s air conditioning suddenly died too? “Oh, I get it. You’re talking about underwear ads, aren’t you?” He paused, but she was having so much trouble finding the words that he continued before she could respond. “Ordinarily, I’d pass. Even I have some standards. But I really need the money. And it’s not like I’d be making a career out of having my picture taken in tightiewhities.” He leaned in closer. “You’re not talking about the kind of shorts that make a Speedo look roomy, are you?” You wish. “Actually, it isn’t print ad work.” Molly fought the urge to chew her thumbnail and instead rubbed the inside of her ring finger with her thumb. “It would be live modeling for an artist. She’s doing a series of black-and-white sketches for a show.” “Huh. Well, that sounds a lot classier than a Sears insert in the Sunday paper. Hey, this is gonna be perfect.” He looked at her with a bit of confusion in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Why didn’t you mention it a half hour ago?”

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Molly nervously twirled an invisible ring on her finger and wished she’d kept quiet. “Well, there is one thing about the job I haven’t mentioned. You might not be interested once I tell you.” “Is it the pay? I can’t afford to tie up all my free time if I’m not going to make enough before my rent’s due.” “No, actually the pay is quite good.” She wasn’t trying to string it out, but telling him was turning out to be even harder than she’d thought. “Okay, enough mystery. What’s the big deal? It sounds like this gig will save my ass. I want the job. Who should I call?” Just tell him. “I can guarantee the job is yours if you really want it. The only thing is, to do it…” She fidgeted with her purse on her lap. “Molllllyyyyy.” “You’d have to pose nude.”

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Chapter Two

Scott lifted his chin high and laughed. “You’re kidding me, right?” When Molly remained silent and stone-faced, uncertainty began to cloud the amusement in his eyes. “I’m afraid not.” His laughter faded away. “Hey, forget I mentioned it. Let’s go.” She tried to stand, but Scott grabbed her forearm and pulled her back down onto the hard plastic swivel chair. “Now just hold up a minute here. You’re really serious?” He looked around, released her arm and leaned toward her to whisper, “A nude model?” “It was a bad idea. Never mind. Now, can we go?” She bolted out of the seat and dodged his grip. “Okay, but we are continuing this discussion in the car.” They emptied their trays into the trash bin and went back out into the stifling heat. This time Scott followed closely, almost as if he thought she might bolt. Molly got into the driver’s side, started the car and set the air-conditioning to high. As soon as Scott climbed in and closed the door, he started in. 16

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“Okay, spill it. How do you know this artist who does nudes? You said you could pretty much guarantee me the job, so you must be pretty close to this person.” “Actually, no two people could be closer than we are.” Scott’s brows shot up, and Molly realized she’d made it sound as if she’d spoken of a lover. Boy, was that the furthest thing from the truth. “It’s my twin sister.” She pushed her glasses back up her nose, needing to confirm there was no Pinocchio reaction to the whopper she was telling. “A twin sister? You’ve never mentioned having a twin.” “And you’ve never mentioned your brother before today.” Glad to have an excuse not to meet his gaze, Molly pulled out of the parking lot. “True.” He paused before asking, “What’s your sister’s name?” “Mary,” she said, pulling another M name out of thin air. “Molly and Mary,” he said absently, turning to face the windshield. “That’s right. Mary’s an artist.” His gaze darted back to meet hers. “You’re an artist, too.” Her heart did a little flip at the thought of him defending the artistry of her profession. “A commercial artist. Big difference. Anyway, she does fine art. Pen and ink drawings, as well as pastels and graphite. She’s putting together a black-and-white series.” “Do you two look alike?” He sounded as if he hadn’t heard anything else she’d said except that they were twins. “Yes and no. We’re identical twins, but we each have our own styles. You would never confuse us if we were standing next to each other.” Scott sat quietly, his forehead creased in concentration. Molly was surprised that so far, none of his questions had been about the job itself, just about her fictitious sibling. She pulled into the K&B lot and lucked out, snagging a primo parking spot. As they got out of the car he broke the silence. “This is so weird. I don’t know why I assumed you were an only child. A twin…” “So.” She hesitated before opening the door to the building. All afternoon the hellish

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heat of the office would serve as a reminder of the lies she was telling her friend. “Are you interested in the job?” He’d been looking down at his feet but now met her gaze. “Oh, uh, let me think about it. Is it okay if I let you know tomorrow?” “Sure.” She hated herself, and his idiot brother, for putting Scott in this uncomfortable situation. Inside he gave her half a wave and headed in the opposite direction.

*** Nude, naked, in the buff, letting it all hang out. Scott made a slit in the clear film of his frozen dinner and tossed it into the microwave. All afternoon he’d wrestled with the idea of posing nude. The artist being Molly’s sister made it intriguing yet, at the same time, embarrassing. Not that his body was anything to be ashamed of. Not hardly. He worked out regularly and had his fair share of women who could attest to the fact that everything was in tip-top shape. But would Mary gossip with her sister, his friend and coworker, about his… He groaned. Twin sisters would be close enough to talk about that kind of thing, wouldn’t they? Hell, he didn’t know. In his opinion, the female mind was one of the world’s biggest mysteries. His stepmother was the classic case. Always playing games, always camouflaging some hidden agenda. But Molly was the exception to the rule. She shot from the hip. He’d never known her to be sneaky or mean-spirited, but she called a spade a spade. That’s exactly why he’d liked her from the first time they’d met. Molly hadn’t pursued anything more than friendship and could always be counted on for the truth. She was also damned funny. And the only unmarried female at K&B under the age of fifty who didn’t flirt and giggle like a twelve-year-old. Molly, well, she was just Molly. The timer on the microwave sounded and, using the tails of his shirtfront for hot 18

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pads, Scott pulled out the plastic tray. As he set his symmetrically portioned banquet on the table, he felt something nuzzle up against his shin. “Hey, Napoleon. It’s about time you got up to greet your lord and master.” Scott bent down to scratch the jowl of the enormous black cat. Napoleon luxuriated in the attention for about two point five seconds and then broke away to stand in front of his bowl. He let loose with a piercing meow. “You really need to work off some of that food I left today before you load up on more, my friend.” Disrespectful green eyes glared at him, and the cat let loose with another obnoxious meeeeeooooooowwwwww. Scott reached underneath the cat’s wide belly and carried him to the sliding glass doors. “How do you expect to retain a firm physique if all you do is sleep? Ladies aren’t interested in love handles. Go slink around the bushes for awhile. You can eat later.” He dumped Napoleon on the patio. The rotund cat gave him one last dirty look and wandered off the concrete slab and into the surrounding boxwoods. Scott returned to his dinner and the problem still at hand. Money. He’d asked around and tried to think up alternative solutions all afternoon, but nothing else had panned out. Molly had said the modeling job paid well and he could easily earn the five hundred dollars before his rent was due. What’s the big deal? You’ve been nude in front of women plenty of times. He twirled his fork in his fingers. But the difference was the women were always au naturel, too. Would Mary consent to working naked, so he would feel more at ease? The initial thought had been in jest, but he found himself wondering what it would be like. Never having seen Mary, he tried to imagine Molly naked. They were twins after all, but it was still hard to picture. Not that Molly was unattractive; she was just always so…covered up. Even though it was late August and downright hot, even for Cincinnati, he’d never seen her dressed in anything other than wide-legged slacks and long-sleeved blouses. He could tell she wasn’t heavy, but maybe she was too thin. At times she appeared lost inside her clothes and her posture seemed somehow stunted, as if she was

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afraid to extend her limbs beyond some invisible confines. Molly always wore her black hair up off her neck in a tight bun. The prim and proper hairstyle made sense in this heat, but just once he’d like to see it down. How far would it flow down her back? It was as dark as Napoleon’s fur, but would it feel silky if he ran his hands through it? Unlike most of the bejangled women he knew, Molly wore no jewelry beyond her serviceable Timex and a pair of tiny diamond stud earrings. If she wore make-up, she’d successfully mastered the “natural look” with a smooth, creamy complexion void of painted-on coloring. Her dark-rimmed glasses had a way of veiling her gray eyes and lashes, but her genuine smile could brighten any mood. He’d never noticed her wearing any perfumes, subtle or overdone. Her scent was clean and guileless. Just like the woman, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit he looked forward to her company at lunch each day. How would she look naked, without all that cloth? Without glasses, her hair up in a bun, billowing blouses and masculine lines? But removing her clothing, even in his imagination, seemed like a betrayal of his friend. Scott shook off the guilt and considered the modeling job once more. It would only be for a short time, and the money would definitely save his ass. Good thing he had less than a year of payments left on his student loans. After those were paid off, money wouldn’t be tight. Assuming Rob kept his butt out of jail. Why not take the modeling job? He’d probably never see Mary again after the drawings were finished anyway. After all, he hadn’t even known she existed before today. But what if Molly saw the drawings afterwards? He groaned. A twin would certainly attend the public showing of her sibling’s artwork. Molly will be cool about it. He’d just have to make sure she didn’t tell anyone at work about the showing. He wasn’t crazy about the idea of having his bosses—no matter what sex they were—examining pictures of him in his birthday suit. And he sure wouldn’t want the office-oglers showing up to check out the old McDowell family jewels. If he took the job, Molly would have to swear to keep the showing a secret.

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***

The next morning, Scott peeked into her cubicle. Even though the air conditioning was working again, Molly’s hair was in its ever-present bun and harpooned with two sharpened pencils. She leaned over her drafting table, concentrating on her sketch. Her low-riding khakis were belted at her hips, and her full white blouse obscured her waistline. The heels of her chunky brown shoes were hooked in her stool, and the only hint of femininity in her attire was the shadow of bra straps under her blouse. That thought gave Scott pause. He’d never made more than a casual note of how she dressed and wore her hair. “Hey.” He stepped inside her cubicle. Molly looked over her shoulder with a smile and pushed her glasses back up her nose. “Hi.” “I just wanted you to know I gave the job offer a lot of thought last night.” He spoke quietly, not wanting their conversation to be overheard. Molly laid down her pen and started to nibble on her thumbnail. Why the heck did she look nervous?

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Chapter Three

“I’ve decided to take it.” Scott did his best to sound determined. “If you’re sure this is cool with your sister.” “Yeah, it’s fine.” Molly looked like she’d swallowed live goldfish. “I, uh, spoke with Mary last night, and she trusts me that you’d be perfect.” “You think I’d be perfect?” He smiled. This was the first time Molly had ever said anything like that. Was her nervousness because she’d been thinking about him naked? Molly blushed. “You know what I mean,” she said, obviously trying to regain her composure. “You mean you think I’d be perfect naked. I didn’t realize you thought about me that way,” he teased, closing the distance between them. “Cut it out, Scott.” She shoved him away. “You’re just trying to embarrass me. All I meant is you’re in good shape and fit within the age range Mary said she was looking for.” She was still pink-cheeked but fighting a good fight, so Scott decided to let up. Flustered was cute on Molly. “So, should I call her?” “No.” She almost tripped on the word. “She’s really bad about picking up.” 22

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Molly rubbed her ring finger with her thumb, still looking a bit rattled from his teasing, he supposed. “Mary said she’d be working tonight. If you were interested, she said to just have you come over.” She paused to adjust her glasses. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were in a pinch for cash and, if you decided to take the job, you might want to get started as soon as possible.” Bam. The reality of what he was agreeing to do caused an unwelcome clenching in his gut. “No, I don’t mind. Nothing wrong with being up front with her.” Molly quickly turned away. “I’ll just draw you a map to her place.” She reached for a piece of paper. “You won’t be there?” He’d kind of hoped she’d be there to introduce him to her sister and then leave when it was time to, ah…get to work. Her brows rose in surprise. “You’d want me there?” “Well, not later, but…” His stomach suddenly felt like it had been pumped full of wet sand. “I’m sorry, Scott. I can’t. I have some plans tonight.” She went back to her map. “Oh, okay.” Scott was surprised by his disappointment. He glanced at the directions she handed him, gaining points of reference. “You two like to stick close, huh? Didn’t you tell me once that you live on the northwest side?” “Yes, we’re pretty close.” Molly speared the bun at the back of her head with a third pencil and resumed her work. He’d make it quick. Her suddenly brusque behavior must mean she really needed to get back to work. “What do you think? Would seven o’clock be okay?” She gave him a quick glance. “I’m sure that’ll be fine. I’ll let her know to expect you.”

***

Molly rushed around her apartment, hiding anything that identified the place as hers

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instead of her fictitious sister’s. The artwork that leaned against walls of the work area in the main room had all been signed M.J. Birchfield. Since the M could also stand for Mary, there was no need to worry about her signature giving her away. Just thinking about the evening ahead triggered a stomach full of butterflies, so she concentrated all her energy on tucking identifying articles out of sight. She stuffed her briefcase and purse inside her bedroom closet and removed all the prescription bottles from the medicine cabinet. Racing from room to room like a pinball inside an arcade game, she hid the day’s mail in a kitchen drawer and her framed photos under the bed. Finally, she made one last sweep, trying to use a detective’s eye. There didn’t seem to be anything else to clue Scott in to the fact that he was really posing nude for his friend and co-worker. Molly glanced at the clock. She’d stopped by the mall on her way home to pick up a few items and was relieved to see she still had forty-five minutes left to make her personal transformation. She stripped off her clothes and tossed them in the tall wicker basket in her bedroom, then replaced the lid and walked naked and barefoot to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she pulled out taupe thong panties and slipped them on. Then, from the bottom drawer, she removed a pair of pale gray yoga pants and a black boat-neck top. Dressing took only seconds. Going into the bathroom, she pulled the bobby pins from her hair and ran her fingers through it, coaxing the winding tresses down her back. Then she tucked her pins inside a black zippered bag and shoved it underneath the vanity. Massaging her scalp with her free hand, she pulled out a basket of makeup. She studied her reflection in the mirror. Wanting to blend into the background, forgoing makeup and jewelry was essential to her at-work disguise. But the real Molly enjoyed playing up her features with a bit of smoky eye shadow, blush and cranberry lip gloss. Perhaps Mary would even be a bit more heavy-handed in her applications. And in an effort to further differentiate the sisters, she’d purchased some temporary tattoos and a magnetic silver stud earring.

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Choosing a small blue butterfly tattoo, Molly followed the package directions and, with a wet washcloth, affixed it to the outside of her right ankle. She was especially pleased with affect of the magnetic earring on her nostril. It was kind of tight and would take some getting used to, but the Molly who Scott was used to would never wear such a funky adornment. She walked back into her bedroom. At her dresser, she removed her diamond earrings, a sweet-sixteen birthday gift from her late parents. Tucking them away inside her jewelry box, she put on a new pair of large silver-tone hoops. She slipped her wide silver worry ring on her finger and, as a final touch, spritzed herself with some of her favorite vanilla body spray. She crossed to examine herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. How she wished she could be the real Molly Birchfield 24/7. No buns in her hair, glasses and hunched shoulders to hide her breasts. No fake tattoos or nose piercing. But the sexual harassment at her last job had made these disguises a necessity. Moisture pooled in her eyes. No, don’t go there. It’s over, and I’m making damned sure it never happens again. She exhaled with a sigh and reached her arms and chin toward the ceiling, enjoying the stretch, and feeling her hair slide further down her behind. He’ll be here soon. Molly walked to her work area and pulled her easel away from the wall. Studying the other drawings in the series, she tried to decide on a pose for Scott. Scott. She still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to model. How many times in the last month had she dreamed about him nude? Modeling in her studio and making love in her bed. The first day Scott had come to her cubicle and introduced himself, she’d sensed he was different. He valued her suggestions and seemed to have a genuine respect for her talent. He was personable, funny and the only man who had gone out of his way to form a friendly working relationship with plain, non-heads-turning Molly. Oh, how she wanted more than a friendly working relationship with Scott, but she didn’t dare change her appearance. Even at K&B, she’d seen how male staff members

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leered at her female colleagues. After all this time, the memories of Edward Morton’s groping hands still turned her stomach, so why take the chance of drawing that kind of attention to herself again? The disguise was working. No way was she going to rock the boat. But by pretending to be Mary, she could be more like herself. Physically, anyway. K&B’s Molly might not be the type of woman Scott was attracted to, but maybe he’d show some romantic interest in her make-believe twin. Molly shook off the notion. First and foremost, she was an artist, and Scott was simply going to help her complete the series of drawings for her showing next month. She’d been waiting a long time for this. Yes, the showing was merely one wall at an obscure little gallery, but it was a milestone for her. When Scott arrived, she would need to stay focused. All business. Besides, if she spoke too much she was bound to slip up. She remembered how different in temperament the young twins who’d given her this idea had been. Talkative, no-holes-barred Molly was free to be Scott’s outspoken confidant, but Mary would have to be the quiet, detached sister. She decided Mary might have a lower-toned voice as well. The sudden knock at the door startled Molly out of her planning. Taking a deep breath, she went to meet her model, supposedly for the very first time.

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Chapter Four

Scott pulled his hands out of the pockets of his cargo shorts and stood a little straighter when Mary opened the door. He hadn’t considered shaving again before coming over, but now he wished he had. Mary is hot. Hotter than he ever would have imagined, and it had nothing to do with the summer temperatures. Her hair color, height, eye color and the shape of her face were probably identical to Molly’s, but the presentation almost knocked him on his ass. Mary’s eyes were dark and sultry and her shiny lips made him think of red wine. A sparkle of silver on the side of her nose drew his attention. A nose piercing? Different, exotic. “Hi,” he said, temporarily unable to articulate anything more intelligent. “Hello. You must be Scott.” Her voice was similar, but deeper, than Molly’s. His coworker was also louder, a little more vivacious. “Yes, and there can’t be any doubt that you’re Mary. You and Molly look so much alike.” He let his eyes roam surreptitiously up and down her body as she stepped back and pulled open the door. The jiggle of her breasts and their budding nipples told him she wasn’t wearing a bra. www.samhainpublishing.com

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Hot damn. He’d been here five seconds, and she already had him drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs. Scott forced his attention back to her face. If she was anything like her sister, she wouldn’t appreciate him checking her out. Molly often criticized men in the office for leering at female employees. “Most people find us very different.” Mary closed the door and turned to lead the way into her living room. Scott studied her from the rear. Her hips swayed and it was almost like she floated across the hardwood floor, making Molly’s determined gate seem almost masculine. Moonlighting isn’t turning out to be so bad. Mary’s pants were unlike any he’d ever seen before, looking more like body paint rather than real fabric. They ended just below her knees and when she turned, a small flash of color on her ankle drew his gaze. A tiny blue butterfly tattoo. Sexy. Her bare feet were slim and delicate. He wasn’t a foot-fetish kind of guy, but seeing the cherry red polish on her toes was giving him some new, imaginative urges. I wonder if Molly paints her toenails, too? The inadvertent switch in female subjects threw him off balance. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath through his nose. Desperate for a new train of thought, he opened his eyes and scanned the large room. Numerous framed pictures leaned against the walls. A variety of lights mounted on stands stood by a large wooden cupboard filled with what looked like art supplies. A wooden easel and a stool claimed the middle of the open space. “Do you have any questions before we get to work?” You mean before I drop trou? Scott winced inwardly and tried not to think about that part of the job. He assumed Mary would let him know what to do as they went, and since Molly had mentioned the salary earlier that day, he really didn’t have any questions. “I’m sure your sister told you that this is a new experience for me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and fingered his key ring. “Yes, she did.” Mary sifted through something similar to a tackle box, not meeting his eyes. “There’s no need to feel self-conscious. And please don’t take offense, Scott,

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but you don’t have anything I haven’t seen and drawn dozens of times.” Ouch. You’re not exactly pumping up my ego, here. “It’ll take me a moment to get ready. Some of my other drawings are over there, if you’d like to take a look.” “Yeah, I’d like that.” He turned away. Nothing she hadn’t seen before, huh? Wow, that still stung. More than it should have. Oh, well. Since he was all in favor of anything that would forestall him stripping to his birthday suit for some non-sexual scrutiny, he crossed the room to her artwork. The situation was almost funny. Mary looked like the kind of woman he’d normally be anxious to get naked with. Ah, but there was the difference. In this case he’d be doing a solo act. And in order to earn his five hundred dollars, it would be for a few extended performances. Mary had gestured toward a collection of black-framed pictures leaning against the far wall. Scott squatted in front of the first one, coming eye level with a man’s dark, piercing gaze. His face, scored with deep crevices, reflected many decades of hard living. Shirtless, he sat in baggy belted trousers on an upturned concrete block. The man’s elbows rested on his knees. The loose flesh on his chest sagged, and dirty nails tipped his thick fingers. “This guy looks like he’s seen an awful lot in his lifetime.” Scott wondered who he was. “Those dark eyes seem to drill right inside your head.” He couldn’t decide whether the man appeared angry or resigned, but either way, the intensity of his gaze was chilling. “Yes. That’s what drew me to him—those onyx eyes,” Mary said, walking toward him. She stopped next to where he knelt, her curving hip near his shoulder. She smelled like vanilla and Scott inhaled deeply, wondering if she would taste just as rich. He felt his dick spring to life and rose to relieve the pressure in his tightening briefs. Damn, all he had to do was smell her lotion, or whatever it was, and he got hard. He glanced at Mary, whose attention seemed concentrated on the portrait. Would she remain as unaffected by him when he was nude as she was now? “That was the feature I wanted to capture,” she explained.

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“You did.” Scott was surprised he’d remembered the topic of conversation. Maybe if he could concentrate on that, and not her alluring scent, his erection would subside. “His eyes are definitely the focal point,” he continued. “Not that the rest isn’t fabulous, but I can’t seem to let my gaze settle anywhere else.” Her silence stretched on for an uncomfortable moment, and Scott felt his anxiety kick up a notch. Keep talking. “I did notice that he got to keep his pants on,” he said, only half joking. “Yes. I wanted the observer to focus on his face, not the body.” “Ah.” Good comeback, dummy. In truth, Scott had made the mistake of glancing sideways at Mary. Her distended nipples underneath the dark fabric of her top had temporarily taken away his ability to speak. The air conditioning in the studio was running full tilt, and Scott realized the twins shared one distinctive similarity, other than their physical features. Molly was always complaining about the heat, setting her car’s A/C on arctic blast. Mary must be the same way. Hot-blooded. What a coincidence. He’d been feeling pretty hot-blooded since he’d arrived. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to get started,” she said. “The bathroom is right over there. There’s a terry cloth robe on the back of the door for you to wear while I decide on the position I want to put you in.” Scott bit back a retort about the position he’d like to be in. With her. Strange, he’d have teased Molly without batting an eye. He could picture her rolling her eyes and elbowing him in the ribs, then moving on to the next subject, never wondering whether the comment held a speck of truth. But this was Mary, not Molly. He shook his head. It was so damned confusing looking at one and thinking about the other. “Whatever you say, Mary.” He walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

Molly slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her groan.

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What position I want to put you in? How Freudian had that just sounded? Thank God Scott had gone into the bathroom and couldn’t see how red her face must be right now. She’d meant pose. Pose, not position. She exhaled slowly, trying to blow out some of the tension that had been building inside her since his arrival. She’d never seen him in casual clothes before, and it was quite a treat. His plain white pocket tee stretched favorably across his hard chest, and his cargo shorts showed off strong, muscular legs. Oh, and her imagination had been right about the sandy hair coating his legs. Not gorilla-thick, but just enough to be erotically masculine. The bathroom door rattled slightly, a clue that the subject of her every fantasy was removing the robe from the hook and would be out any second. She blew out another breath, reminding herself that Mary shouldn’t speak too much. Earlier, she’d almost burst into a litany about the man in the drawing. She had seen him sitting outside a halfway house one sweltering Saturday afternoon. Plunking herself down next to him, she’d been both fascinated and saddened by his tales—surviving the Vietnam War, returning to find his girlfriend married to someone else, and the subsequent years of fluctuating between living on the streets and serving time in prison. The story had been about to gush out of her mouth when she remembered Mary was supposed to be the reserved twin. Mary wouldn’t make that much conversation with anyone. Molly was the outgoing sister who’d plop herself down and swap life stories with a total stranger. Good thing Scott hadn’t asked her any details about the man who modeled for the portrait. It was best if their meeting remained a mystery. The bathroom door opened and Scott stepped out, flipping the switch off as he left. Molly tried not to think about how he was naked underneath the robe and moments away from shedding it completely. Thankful for her outward calm—when inwardly she was as jittery as gelatin—she positioned her pole lighting to shine on a section of exposed brick wall. The rough, segmented surface would present a nice contrast to the defined curves of Scott’s muscles. “Where and how do you want me?” His smile announced that her awkward word

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choice had not been forgotten. She swallowed her response of “anywhere, naked and now” and wanted to punch him for teasing when she couldn’t respond in kind. “Over here, next to the wall,” she said, rather surprised she sounded so businesslike when her heart was pounding like an orchestra’s percussion section. Scott came over to stand next to her. “I’d like to try a pose like this.” She showed him, facing the wall, resting her forearms against it and stacking her relaxed hands. Turning her face in profile, she laid her left temple on her hands, chin slightly down. “Okay.” She backed away from the spot. He untied the fabric belt and, without a bit of hesitation, pulled the robe off.

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Chapter Five

Yowzah. “Here, I’ll take that.” Molly turned away while she tried to swallow the bowling ball creeping down her esophagus. God, this is really happening. Oh yeah, she’d been a big talker, all right. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen and drawn dozens of times. Well, maybe she’d drawn other men, and maybe she’d drawn what she imagined Scott would look like, but this was worlds and away different. Scott was here, with her, totally naked—the most beautiful male specimen she’d ever seen. He rolled his shoulders before lifting his arms to the wall. The muscles in his back rippled, and his buns were lean and taut. Good enough to eat. Mary was supposed to be the demure, professional artist, but Molly felt as if she might faint dead away from horniness. Scott mimicked the pose she’d demonstrated. His feet were in a more natural-looking position than hers had been, so she didn’t ask him to adjust. On the contrary, she found herself hard pressed to…oh, would she ever like to be hard pressed…naked…between Scott and any surface. What had she been thinking? Oh yeah, how it was impossible to find anything about www.samhainpublishing.com

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the image before her that wasn’t absolute perfection. Maybe she could have mussed his hair a little with her fingers, but she didn’t trust that she’d be able to pull away. Her fingers itched to glide over his skin. She mentally scolded herself and tried to regain some semblance of professionalism. It was time to use a constructive eye. The lighting needed no further adjustment. By luck, it shone perfectly on the tight skin of his upper back and his ass, casting slight shadows in all the right places. Molly had never realized before this moment how much she loved the male butt—or maybe it was just Scott’s—but the indentation on the outside of his cheeks screamed for her touch, her tongue. She wiped the perspiration off her upper lip. Had the air conditioning died? The urge to rip off her clothes, rub herself over his naked body and lick every exposed inch of him was almost overpowering. Her mouth went dry at the thought of the friction they could make together, bare skin against bare skin. “How’s this?” His question startled her out of her fantasy. “That’s fine. Just hold that pose.” Thank God she’d decided to start with a recreation of the rear pose she had frantically sketched a few mornings earlier after one of her erotic dreams. This way he wouldn’t see how affected she was, and just from his bare butt. She was definitely going to have to work her way up to a full frontal pose. It would take every bit of acting ability she could summon not to let him see the hunger in her eyes. She wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her pants, picked up her graphite and began to draw. Forty-five minutes later, she was still working intently. “Mary,” Scott interrupted. “I’m really going to have to take a break. There hasn’t been any blood flowing into my hands for half an hour.” “Oh. I’m sorry. Go ahead and relax.” She felt terrible about his discomfort. “I tend to forget about the time while I work. I’ll get us something to drink.” She cleaned her hands with a baby wipe and crossed to the kitchen. While Scott was distracted, putting on the robe, she discretely rubbed the side of her nose. This darned earring hurts. She pulled cans of Cherry Coke and seltzer water from the fridge.

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He had just finished tying the robe closed when she handed him the chilled can. “Did Molly tell you I was addicted to Cherry Coke?” “Oh, uh, yes,” she said, her mind racing. She had picked up a twelve-pack of his favorite beverage, forgetting that Mary wouldn’t know he liked it. “Well, it was nice of you. Thanks. Molly hates the stuff. You probably don’t drink it either, do you?” “No.” She remembered to keep her voice lowered and her answers short and sweet. If handing him a drink had almost given her away, imagine what her big mouth could do. Scott popped open the top and took a long drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, the up and down movement totally masculine and strangely erotic. Then, he paused to rotate his shoulders, reminding her of the reason he’d asked to take a break. “Why don’t you sit down?” She gestured toward the ivory canvas sofa. “Thanks, that’d be great.” Scott sank into the overstuffed couch cushions and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. This has got to be the most comfortable sofa I’ve ever sat on.” “I’m glad you like it.” Trying to maintain her Mary persona, she carefully measured each word. Molly would love to tell him about the fantastic deal she’d gotten on it. How it had been custom-ordered for a local day spa and the owner had refused delivery once she’d seen the texture under the salon’s lighting. The next day, Molly had wandered into the interior designer’s shop on a whim. She’d been in the right place at the right time, so they say, and had fallen in love with the piece. The designer, who’d been hard pressed for floor space, had given her a deal too good to pass up. But Mary couldn’t prattle on with Scott the same way Molly could. She suddenly felt a twinge of something similar to jealousy, which was just shy of crazy. How could she be jealous of herself? She tried to look busy so she wouldn’t have to make, or in this case, avoid small talk. Twice, she had the uneasy feeling Scott was watching her, but when she casually turned her head to check, his eyes were still closed. Eventually she heard him drain his soda can and stand.

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“I’ll just be a minute and then we can get back to work.” Scott set his can on the kitchen counter and went into the bathroom. Molly forced herself to take several deep breaths. In another minute or so, he’d be coming out and taking off the robe again. Perspiration beaded on the back of her neck. She wanted to pull up her hair in an effort to cool off but decided against it, fearing that might make her look too much like Molly. How was she going to make it through the next half hour? Drawing and admiring Scott’s naked body without being able to touch was absolute torture. She rushed to the wall thermostat and cranked it down another four degrees in an attempt to avoid a total meltdown.

Scott splashed cold water on his face, neck and chest. Even though the apartment was chilly, watching Mary putter around during their break had him burning like toothpicks in a bonfire. She moved smoothly, like a dancer. And those curves and that hair…man, she was so damned sexy. He’d sat on that pillowy sofa and fantasized burning it up with her…under him…on top of him…bent over the back for him… He shouldn’t be thinking this way, doing this to himself, but damned if he could stop it. He’d already determined she wasn’t wearing a bra, a little fact that had immediately kicked his pulse into overdrive. Then, after surreptitiously studying her from behind, he wondered whether she had on panties either. Those tight pant-things she wore left nothing to the imagination. No stone unturned, so to speak. And his stones were definitely turned. On. The subsequent hard-on, which had him hiding in the bathroom like a pubescent kid, rivaled the Washington Monument. He’d made a beeline there and was trying everything to cool himself down, short of hopping in the shower. That might prove difficult to explain.

Molly finally heard the water in the bathroom turn off. If she hadn’t been so nervous about Scott coming back out and shedding his robe, she might have been concerned about

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what was taking so long. The door suddenly swung open and she looked up to see him, fully dressed. “You know, I’m not feeling all that great.” He walked toward the door as if he thought the place was infested with rats. “Those Vienna sausages I had for dinner must have been older than I thought. I hope you don’t mind, Mary, but I’m gonna have to call it a night.” Molly wasn’t sure what to say, he’d caught her so off guard. By the time she got her mouth working, Scott already had his hand on the knob. “Of course. Are you going to be okay?” This was so frustrating, not being able to express her concern to its fullest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. How about tomorrow night?” “If you’re feeling better.” In a way she hoped he wasn’t. Then Molly could stop by his place to check on him. “I’m sure I’ll be okay by then. See you around seven.” He was out the door before she could reply. What was that all about? He’d seemed fine when they’d stopped to take a break. A little achy from posing, but fine. Vienna sausages? Molly cringed. Could food poisoning hit you that fast? She’d never had it, so she wasn’t really sure. Maybe she should have offered to drive him home. Wait, no, it’s a good thing she hadn’t. How could Mary have explained Molly’s car in her spot of the basement garage? That’s just the kind of impetuous reaction that could blow this. But she was worried about him getting home in one piece. I’ll call him later to make sure he’s okay. Molly removed the magnetic stud from her nostril and rubbed the side of her nose. Ah, that’s better. She wished she’d bought the stick-on rhinestones instead, but with her luck it would have fallen off without her knowing. She picked up her graphite to add some finishing touches to the drawing. While she worked, she considered Scott’s next pose—a frontal view. The problem would be trying to remain professional and draw, when she knew she’d be dying to rip off her own

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clothes and wrap herself around him like a vine on a stake. Part of her was glad he’d cut their session short tonight. It had been physically draining, struggling to maintain her concentration and keep working. Her mind had flipflopped back and forth between serious artist and horny sex kitten. Because of that, it had taken much longer than it should have to complete what she had of this sketch. She stood back to appraise her work. It was good, but that was because of the subject. She studied the other drawings she’d completed for the show and then swung her eyes back to Scott’s. Although she liked the pose, a bit too much perhaps, she wasn’t sure it worked with the others. Molly looked at the clock and saw that an hour had passed since he’d left. She wanted to call and see how he was. As she washed her hands, she considered which sister should telephone.

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Chapter Six

Scott let the meowing Napoleon in through the sliding glass door. The hefty feline made a beeline to his dish, similar to the way Scott had headed to the shower when he’d arrived home. He popped open a beer and leaned against the counter wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off sweats. As he watched Napoleon devour his late-night meal, the phone rang. He went into the living room, sat down on the sofa and picked up the cordless phone. “Hello?” “Hi, Scott.” He was surprised to hear Molly’s voice. “Hi, Molly.” Had she already spoken to Mary about the modeling session? “I stopped by Mary’s place, and she said you’d gotten sick.” “Oh, uh, yeah.” He tried to remember what he’d told Mary. “I popped open a can of Vienna sausages for dinner. They must have been bad.” Good thing she couldn’t see the frozen lasagna box sticking out of the kitchen’s overflowing wastebasket. “Are you okay? Do you need me to bring you over some Pepto?” Molly’s concern was nice. Mary obviously didn’t share it since she hadn’t been the one to call. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“No, that’s okay,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I was just about to go to bed.” He felt like a class-A jerk, lying to his friend, but he didn’t want to admit the real reason he’d had to leave her sister’s apartment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t keep you then. I just thought I’d make sure you got home okay and didn’t need anything.” It was so weird. The sisters’ communication styles were as glaringly different as the way they dressed. Scott would like nothing better than to continue talking with Molly, since the conversation at Mary’s had been as sparse as hair on Popeye’s head. “No, that’s okay. I’m not tired. As a matter of fact, I’m feeling a little better since I lay down.” He swung his legs up and stretched out on the sofa so it wouldn’t be a total lie. “Well, then, how was it?” Since this was Molly, he wouldn’t pretend he didn’t know she referred to his mooning her sister for a chunk of the evening. “It was weird at first,” he said. “I don’t usually flash.” “Well, that’s good to hear. Say, what did you think of Mary?” That’s a weird thing for her to ask. He wasn’t sure how to respond. “She was…nice. I looked around at some of her work. She’s good.” “Thanks.” Scott thought that sounded strange, too, but Molly interrupted his scrutinizing. “I mean, I’m really proud of her. I’m glad you think she’s talented.” “It must run in the family. After all, you’re the most talented commercial artist I’ve ever seen.” “You keep talking like that and my head’s gonna swell.” Scott could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s the truth.” Just then something else occurred to him. “You said you stopped by Mary’s place. Did she happen to show you the drawing she did tonight?” He hated to admit it, but he was getting kind of turned on thinking about Molly seeing the portrait. “Yes.”

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Scott sensed more than heard a bit of hesitation. “And?” He sat up. What had she thought of the nude drawing? Had she looked at it with only an artist’s eye? Would she look at her daytime buddy differently now? “Nice buns.” Molly’s comment broke the tension knotted in his stomach, and her voice warmed his heart. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks. Did you think it was good?” He wasn’t even sure what he’d like her to say. “Yes, it’s very good. I’m not sure the pose works with the other drawings in the series. I told Mary I thought she needed a full frontal pose.” Full frontal nudity. Scott’s penis twitched in excitement and he broke out in a sweat all over again. “No secrets, huh? Are you sure you just aren’t curious about my…” He let the last word drop. “Not entirely, but now that you mention it…” she teased back. “Well, if you’re that curious, maybe you could drive over here and see for yourself.” The tent in his sweats was proof positive he was only halfway kidding, and no one was more surprised about that than he was. Wow, this whole situation was doing crazy things to his brain. And his dick. “It’s a good thing I know you’re all talk,” Molly scoffed. She immediately changed the topic to an ad campaign at work. Napoleon, in a rare demonstration of affection, came over and curled up in a large ball next to Scott. He mindlessly stroked the cat’s fur while he and Molly talked about this and that. Over an hour passed before he knew it. “Ohmigosh,” Molly said suddenly. “I just glanced at the clock. It’s almost midnight. I’ve got to get some sleep or I’ll be totally worthless tomorrow.” “Me, too.” Although he didn’t really feel tired. Their conversation had invigorated him. “I’ll see you in the morning.” “Are you sure? Are you feeling well enough to go to work?”

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Busted. He’d forgotten he was supposed to be sick. “Yeah. Talking to you has been like a tonic.” He rolled his eyes at how lame that sounded. “You must have a clothespin on your nose and your shovel close by.” She chuckled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Molly disconnected and set the phone in its base on the night stand. As she changed for bed, she wondered about Scott’s quick recovery. Was it possible he really hadn’t been sick at all? But why would he lie about that? One minute, he’d seemed fine, and the next, he’d bolted for the door. Had she done something to suddenly cause him to want to leave? If so, she couldn’t imagine what. She was still pondering the situation as her head hit the pillow and she drifted off to sleep.

***

It seemed like Molly had just closed her eyes when the alarm began its harsh blaring. She slapped at it in a desperate search for the snooze button. After allowing herself one nine-minute reprieve, she dragged her body out of bed. She started coffee, showered and dressed in a pair of black chinos and a long-sleeved white shirt. After winding her damp hair into a tight twist, she secured it with a handful of bobby pins. Before leaving her apartment, she slipped on the glasses and checked her reflection. God, how she hated the way she had to hide the real Molly, but after her experience with her old boss, Edward Morton, this daily transformation was the best solution. As she drove to work, her thoughts returned to Scott’s hasty retreat the previous evening. The more she thought about their telephone conversation, the more she was convinced he hadn’t been sick. The only reason she could come up with for his hasty exit was embarrassment. But the first time he’d taken off the robe, he hadn’t seemed a bit nervous. Then again, she’d avoided looking directly at him until he’d been ready for her

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to begin. Even then, he’d been facing away from her. Molly turned into the K&B parking lot and, out of habit, scanned the lot for Scott’s late model SUV. There it was. So, he’d made a full recovery, or had his claim of illness simply been a cover for nervousness? Maybe during their break, he’d realized she’d want a frontal pose next. The prospect was certainly something she’d been apprehensive about. Heck, she’d been so wrapped up in her own fears, she hadn’t considered Scott’s. She pulled into a parking space, turned off the ignition and allowed herself another minute of contemplation before heading inside. Maybe Scott hadn’t felt as calm as he’d appeared. That idea made her feel worse than when she’d thought he’d been ill. He shouldn’t continue posing if it made him uncomfortable. There was only one way to find out the truth. Ask. Mary didn’t dare, but Molly did. She may lust after him every minute of every day, but she was, first and foremost, his friend.

***

Scott waited until eleven-thirty before he ducked his head into Molly’s cubicle and asked her to lunch. As usual, she was leaning over a drawing, deep in concentration. He noted the marked differences from Mary—the shapeless clothing and tightly wound hair. Nonetheless, he was surprised to find himself semi-aroused at the sight of her. Damn. Which sister had really brought that on? Standing halfway out in the corridor, he decided to remain partially hidden. “Hi, Molly. I just got your email. I’ve been out at a client’s all morning. I need to check in with Sharon, but then do you want to do lunch?” She looked up at him and smiled. Mary might be the hot one, but Molly’s smile just about melted his heart. “Sounds great. As usual, I was too lazy to pack anything.” “Okay. How about you come rescue me from Sharon’s office in about ten minutes?”

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Their boss, Sharon Baldwin—the B in K&B Advertising—was well known for turning a five-minute update into an hour-long discussion. “You’ve got it,” she said, winking.

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Chapter Seven

Sharon was dressed in her navy blue power suit and, as usual, was perfectly coifed. If Scott hadn’t known for certain that she arrived first each day, he’d think his boss had spent half the morning at a salon. “I’m very impressed with the relationship you’ve established with Mr. Lee. His company’s account will help establish K&B in the international market.” “Thanks again, Sharon. I—” Three staccato raps cut him off just before Molly appeared from behind the wooden door. “Sorry to interrupt, but your assistant isn’t at her desk.” Scott glanced at the crystal clock on the corner of Sharon’s mahogany desk. Right on time. “What is it, Molly?” His partner-in-crime gestured in his direction. “Scott, Richard Landis is on hold for you. I offered to take a message, but he said it was important and he’d prefer to hold.” Molly gave them both a chagrined look and retreated. “If it’s okay with you, I’d better see what he wants.” Sharon waved him away as if he was a child late for the school bus. “By all means. www.samhainpublishing.com

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Don’t keep a client waiting.” When he reached his cubicle, Scott found Molly seated in his desk chair with her ankles crossed, her black clodhoppers resting in the middle of his blotter. “Bravo, Bravo.” He circled the desk, lightly clapping his hands in praise of her performance. “Now let’s get out of here.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her out into the hallway before anyone could waylay them. Molly’s delicate hand felt warm and soft in his. As they rounded the last turn in the hall to pass the receptionist’s desk, she pulled her hand away. Was she afraid someone at the office might get the wrong idea about their relationship? Although she followed quickly behind him, Scott felt a weird sense of loss at their broken connection. “What’s the big hurry, and where are we going?” “Number one, boss lady was droning on, as usual. I want to get out before she spots us. Answer number two, I don’t care where we go. What are you in the mood for?” Since the previous evening there was something he was definitely in the mood for, and pictures of the various ways he could satisfy Molly suddenly popped into his brain. What is it with me? He’d never had erotic thoughts about Molly before this moonlighting gig. “How about gyros?” She seemed unaware of the sexual subtext to his question. And that was just as well. Hadn’t last night proven he should clean up his imagination? “Sounds good. I’ll drive.” They got in his Explorer and headed toward a favorite Greek fast-food restaurant. Surprisingly, the place was almost empty. Molly chose a big booth in the corner while he placed their orders and brought their plastic tray of food to the table. “I forgot about you being sick last night. I hope this doesn’t upset your stomach.” He avoided meeting her eyes, regretting the lie he’d fabricated. After being on the receiving end of more lies than he could ever count from his stepmother, Scott hated doing the same thing to Molly. “No problem. I feel fine now.” He sat opposite her and removed the paper wrapping from his gyro.

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“Scott, I want you to tell me the truth. Do you regret taking this modeling job? Because all it takes is one word, and I’ll call Mary and tell her you’ve reconsidered. She’ll understand, really.” Damn. She didn’t even need to look into his eyes to know he’d been lying. What could he say? Scott didn’t want to back out on the job; the money was heaven-sent. And it wasn’t that he was embarrassed to be seen nude. But the thought of being unable to control a raging hard-on while Mary stood by, unaffected, was downright disconcerting. “Why would you say that?” Molly gave him a knowing look. “Didn’t I tell you I’m psychic? Seriously, am I wrong?” He suddenly felt like he’d been seated under blinding lights and Molly was the Gestapo’s top interrogation officer. There’d be no peace, or gyros, until he spilled it. “Yes and no.” Her questioning gaze forced him to explain. “No, I don’t want to reconsider. I need the money.” He held up his hand to cut off the loan offer he knew was on the tip of her tongue. Her mouth had looked poised and ready, but she closed it. “I’m not backing out, and that’s final.” He paused. How he could say this without sounding like he was fourteen years old? “I wasn’t sick last night. I was kind of…God, this is weird.” He picked up his iced tea and took a cool drink, hoping the right words would flow in its wake. Molly looked sympathetic. “From what I saw of Mary’s drawing, you have nothing at all to be embarrassed about, if that’s the problem. And it’s not like you’re posing for a Playgirl centerfold.” “I know. Mary’s a serious artist, and she was very professional about the whole thing.” He could tell Molly wasn’t going to let it drop. After all, she was just doing what any other friend would do, giving him a safe place to confide his feelings. And damn it, he did need some advice. Even knowing the certain awkwardness that would follow, he was going to have to tell her everything if he wanted to come up with a solution.

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“Then, I’m confused. What’s the problem?” He looked around to confirm no one else was close enough to overhear. Luckily, the two businessmen who’d been eating nearby were on the way out the door. “I was…I couldn’t help but be…aroused.” Molly’s eyes flared with understanding. “Ohhhhh.” Pink began to color her cheeks. She reached for her ice water and took a long drink. “Yeah, ‘ohhhhh,’” he mimicked. They ate a moment in silence. Finally, Molly wiped her mouth with a napkin and cleared her throat. “You know, it isn’t the first time Mary’s seen an erection.” She lowered her voice to a whisper on the last word. For some reason that reassurance made him even more defensive. “Well, it sure-as-hell isn’t the first time a woman has seen me that way either. Far from it.” He knew he sounded like an ass, but he couldn’t help it. Molly would understand. He picked up his iced tea then set it down again without taking a drink. “But this is an entirely different situation. Listen, no offense, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He forced himself to take a big bite of the now-unwanted sandwich. If he was chewing, he wouldn’t have to talk. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the modeling job to you.” Scott almost choked. He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Stop, right there,” he said. “I needed money and asked you for help. Yeah, you knew of an opportunity, but I’m the one who decided to go for it. I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you, Molly.” He looked through the thick glasses and into her eyes. They glistened, but before he could determine whether he spotted unshed tears, she blinked. “Since I came to K&B, you’ve been my best friend. I’m glad you set me up with this job with Mary. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back from me, ever. Okay?”

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Molly opened her mouth to speak then closed it again. She nodded and pulled her hand away to pick up her cup of water. Had his holding her hand again made her uncomfortable? He liked the warm feeling, but maybe she didn’t welcome the physical contact. He was about to mentally delve deeper into that possibility, when she spoke up. “Well, as your friend, I want to help. Uh, obviously I have no first-hand knowledge in dealing with this kind of problem.” Molly paused a moment and then buried her face in her hands. At first, as he saw her shoulders do little hip-hops, he thought she was crying. But then he heard muted giggling. His concern transformed into irritation. “I’m glad you’re getting a good laugh from this.” Molly raised her head, her lips pursed in an effort to hold in the laughter, and held up her palms in mock apology. “I’m sorry,” she finally squeaked. “I’ve just never discussed this particular problem before. Okay, no more giggling. Give me a minute to think about this.” She took a bite of her gyro and looked pensive as she chewed. Resigned to the fact that he had now bared everything there was to bare, Scott sighed and resumed eating. “Is there some kind of food you could eat to make you…you know?” she asked. “Like the opposite of oysters?” Scott tilted his head, giving her an are-you-kidding-me look as he finished chewing. “Well, if someone has come up with canned impotence, I don’t think it was a big seller.” He shook his head and took another bite. “Okay.” Obviously, she was not willing to give up. “How about if you think of something really sad? Or gross? You know, like somebody dying, or French-kissing your great-aunt Millie.” He cringed. “That might work for a while, but probably not for an entire sitting.” “How about alcohol? Does that…you know…put a damper on things?” “Not usually. But I don’t normally drink too much when I’m planning…” He paused, took a drink and cleared his throat. “When I’m planning to have an intimate evening with

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a woman.” Then he offered an idea that hadn’t occurred to him earlier. “Maybe if I’m exhausted.” “Yeah.” She jumped on that. “How about you work out beforehand?” “That might work. I could go to the gym after I get home.” “You could eat a big dinner. That carb crash might help.” A group of teenage girls entered the restaurant and Scott was glad for an excuse to change the subject. He leaned closer to Molly and spoke softly. “And now, if you don’t mind, could we please talk about something else?”

***

Molly did mediocre work that afternoon, unable to concentrate, to forget how wonderful it had felt the two times Scott had held her hand. Dangerously wonderful. But she’d made herself pull away. And then there had been his surprising lunchtime confession. Last night, when he’d been at her apartment, he’d become aroused. So aroused, he’d felt he’d had to leave. She was sorry for his embarrassment, but the situation also made her tingle with excitement. Okay, so he hadn’t come right out and said he found her, or in this case Mary, attractive. But what else could have caused it? She knew she was jumping to a conclusion, but it didn’t seem like that big a leap. After all, when she wasn’t in disguise, she often attracted the attention of men. She hadn’t asked Scott if he was interested in starting a personal relationship with Mary. The possible ramifications still needed to be considered. She was Molly, but she was also Mary. She could only lay claim to being one sister, and she didn’t know if she wanted Scott dating the other one. The whole dual-identity thing was getting so confusing. Molly checked the clock and cleaned up her work area for the day. On the way home, she stopped at the grocery and put together a large salad from their salad bar. At the last minute, she added a bottle of Chardonnay to her basketful of purchases.

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At home she let down her hair, changed out of her work clothes and applied her makeup. She’d avoided scrubbing her temporary tattoo in the shower that morning and was pleased to see it didn’t need to be replaced. Since it was uncomfortable, the magnetic stud for her nose would wait until the last minute. She sat down to eat her salad, replaying their lunchtime discussion in her mind. Was it really necessary for Scott to exhaust himself and eat a heavy meal just to avoid becoming aroused? What if Mary let him know she reciprocated his sexual interest? Would that be so terrible? After all, Molly had been fantasizing about him since they’d met. On the other hand, not telling him the truth if they became physically involved made her deception an even greater sin. She’d have to give it some more thought, and there simply wasn’t time. She’d specifically dressed down tonight, wearing loose cotton lounge pants and an old tee shirt. Still, a selfish part of her was pleased by his predicament and wanted to attract him. There was a knock at the door before she had a chance to change her mind, or her clothes. You’re going to have to play this by ear. Stay in character. She took a quick glance around the room, fitted the silver stud in her nostril and went to answer the door.

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Chapter Eight

“Come in.” Molly opened the door, wishing she didn’t have to screen and alter the tone of every word out of her mouth. “Hello, Mary.” Scott’s smile made her heart flutter, and he held her prisoner with his gaze. Normally she hated when a man stared, but this man brought out feelings she never knew existed. Then the prophet of doom swept through her mind like a dark cloak, taunting and whispering in her ear. It’s Mary who Scott admires. He never looks at Molly that way. Molly is a pal, but Mary is the woman he desires. This dichotomy of Mary versus Molly, pleasure versus jealousy was unnerving. She wondered if it was guilt, self-destruction or evil itself making her want to give away her secret. “Are you certain you’re feeling well enough this evening?” She closed the door behind him. She hated reminding him of his lie, especially with the major deception she’d fabricated, but Scott had sworn her to secrecy. Mary wasn’t to know the true reason for his early departure the previous evening. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” He broke eye contact and walked further into the 52

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room. Her heart ached both for his discomfort and her own guilt. Scott’s sandy hair was still damp from a shower, and she smelled the light scent of his aftershave as he passed under the air-conditioning vent. Stimulating and spicy. She inhaled again before he turned. Tonight, he wore navy Dockers and a tan pullover that stretched across his firm pectoral muscles. Jeesh, she was the one who needed help remaining sexually unaffected. “I’m glad. Would you care for something to drink before we get started?” “That’d be great.” He sounded—if she wasn’t mistaken—somewhat relieved. As Molly turned toward the kitchen, she spotted her purse on the counter next to the refrigerator. Damn. She’d set it down in order to put away groceries and then forgotten it was still out. It was the same brown bag Scott had teased her about, and he would definitely recognize it. Trying to mask the panic coursing through her, she positioned her body to block his view and hastily made her way to the counter. She opened the fridge and quietly slid the bag into an empty crisper drawer while she pulled out the wine bottle with her other hand.

Scott watched Mary glide to the kitchen counter. Lord have mercy, she was luscious. She had covered up a bit more this evening, wearing loose drawstring pants and a paintsplattered green tee shirt, but the image of every one of her curves and mounds was still clearly imprinted in his mind. And that hair. He wanted to bury his face in those long locks and push his fingers through them to cradle her head. Easy, big fella. As she uncorked a bottle of Chardonnay, Scott blinked the way out of his fantasy. She hadn’t offered alcoholic beverages the night before, so he was a bit surprised when he saw her pouring wine. Maybe the combination of his intensive workout, a heavy meal and wine would keep the old yang at DEFCON Five. He hoped so. Having done all he could and already feeling exhaustion setting in, he sank into her sofa. Ahhhhh.

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“Here you are.” She offered him the stemmed glass. “Thanks.” The wine was good, but he was far from a connoisseur. “You can change anytime you’re ready.” Mary tasted her wine and then set the glass on a stool next to her easel. “I finished last night’s drawing after you left. I thought we’d start out with a different pose tonight.” Scott took a longer drink and tried to mentally psych himself up. No big deal. Think about the five hundred dollars. After tonight, he’d be two-thirds of the way there. Molly had told him Mary would pay him that much for three sessions. So let’s get to it. Scott tried to rise to go change, but the pillowy cushions seemed to grip his tired body with magnetic force. “I don’t think I can get up.” His head fell back and his eyes closed. He heard the pad of her bare feet on the wooden floor. “Come on.” Scott cracked open his eyes and saw Mary’s hand extended toward him. He grasped it with his free hand, and she yanked. A familiar giggle burst from her with the effort. He popped up to his feet and managed to stop short of bumping into her. He held his right arm away from his side to keep from spilling the wine on his clothes. “Careful.” He looked up to meet her gaze. There was a sparkle there that he hadn’t seen before. Molly had it, or at least he thought he’d seen it peeking out through her glasses. But this was the first time he’d detected a playful side to Mary. “You laugh exactly like Molly.” Mary spun away. “Yes, people tell us that all the time.” She headed to one of her supply cupboards. Scott admired the sway of her hips and the way the thin cotton swirled around her legs. Molly sure as hell didn’t walk that way. He wondered again how a pair of identical twins could be so dissimilar. When she reached up for something on an upper shelf, her old tee shirt rode higher, exposing a strip of creamy-looking skin. Hot damn. He took a deep breath and downed the remaining wine in his glass. With luck, the alcohol might douse rather than detonate his desire.

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“I’ll go get ready.” Scott set his glass on the counter. No use putting this off. He walked to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. In less than no time he was clad in only the robe. Mary glanced up as he strode back into the living room. “I thought I’d have you do a reclining pose.” Thank God. He was ready to drop. “Fine with me.” In his absence, she had swung out one end of the sofa and covered it with a black drape. She instructed him to sit half-reclined in the corner of it, with one of his legs extended and the other bent at the knee. Scott took a deep breath and removed the robe. As he sank onto the stuffed cushions, his spent muscles sighed. Mary made some small adjustments to his hand positions, played with the lighting, and then crossed to her easel, seemingly unaffected by his nudity. Despite his mild uneasiness over his nudity, he was relaxed, thanks to the exercise and wine. After a quarter of an hour, his lids grew heavy. Mary glanced up and then back at her paper, too intent in her work to engage in conversation. In the quiet, he did his best to remain alert, but exhaustion overtook him and his eyelids slid closed.

Still feeling guilty about losing track of time last night, Molly was glad she’d decided on this pose. Scott had planned on going to the gym before their session, so he would be too worn out to stand for a long period of time. She cocked her head slightly and studied her drawing, then added shading to the arch of his foot. Her gaze slid up his well-defined legs and momentarily lingered on his sex. Although she’d seen numerous male models throughout her training and career, Scott affected her in a way that no other man had. Hoping he hadn’t noticed her pause, her gaze moved on to his stomach, chest and head. That was when she noticed his eyes were closed. She waited, but he didn’t stir. He’d fallen asleep.

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Molly let go of a breath she seemed to have been holding since he’d arrived. Since he was sleeping, she had a temporary respite from having to act the total professional. She cleaned her blackened hands on a baby wipe without taking her eyes off him. Aroused by the sight of his nude body, she moistened her bottom lip, knowing she couldn’t be trusted to take a step toward him. Even unconscious, the man made her a total sex maniac. This isn’t right. He only agreed to pose because he needed the money and thought you were a professional. This is an invasion of his privacy. Molly made herself look away and then crossed the room to study her other drawings. The man with the obsidian eyes stared back at her as if he could see right through her flimsy charade. She felt a shiver of guilt, then turned his knowing face to the wall. She moved on to the drawing of the mother with a baby at her breast. The woman’s eyes were lowered, her attention focused solely on her nursing child. Her lips were curled up at the corners and Molly smiled, remembering the sessions she’d had with the new mother, a seasoned model. She pulled another frame out from behind that picture and studied the image of a middle-aged woman. Molly had partially draped the seated model with black silk across her lap. She had asked her to pull her hair up into a bun, not unlike the one Molly wore to work each day. The skin on the woman’s hands and elbows was creased and wrinkled, and her breasts sagged low and full. Her expression was solemn and distant, which Molly remembered was quite the opposite of the woman’s naturally joyous countenance. Scott’s picture—whichever pose she decided on—would complete the set of four. She looked back at him, so masculine and desirable, even in sleep. Suddenly an idea came to her. A couple. But there was no way she would ever hire another woman to complete a couple’s pose with Scott. She might want the best possible subjects for her drawings, but she wasn’t that much of a masochist. As she studied him lying there, she superimposed herself next to him.

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Too bad there wasn’t some way she could lie with him. She imagined the drawing. Her coloring would complement his. Her dark hair and fair skin, his blond hair and sunkissed tan. Her heart pounded at the thought of lying naked in Scott’s arms. Suddenly she felt as if someone had turned up a burner inside her body. A rhythmic pulsing throbbed between her legs, and her professionalism slipped yet another notch. She couldn’t pose and draw at the same time, and drawing a detailed portrait without some concrete imagery would be difficult and time consuming. A photograph. The idea excited her so much she almost squealed. Molly walked over to the sofa and whispered. “Scott.” He didn’t awaken, didn’t even stir an eyelid. He must be in a deep sleep. The combination of wine, exercise and a comfortable resting place had been too much. She stood silently for another moment, pondering. “Scott?” This attempt to awaken him was only marginally louder than the first. Still no response. As if she’d really expected one? Her gaze slid to the camera equipment on the lowest shelf of her cupboard. It would only take a few minutes. She wouldn’t even wake him. After all, she wanted to portray a simple loving embrace, not one of the steamy images that filled her personal fantasies. I’ll tell him later about the picture. If he was against it, she could drop the whole idea and use the drawing she’d already begun. As she moved to the cupboard, something nagged at her conscience. In a hurry, she refused to consider her motives long enough to identify anything other than artistic inspiration. Hadn’t Scott always said he admired her determination? But as she noiselessly set up her tripod and checked the angle, Molly wondered what he would think when he found out about Mary’s sudden boldness.

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Chapter Nine

Scott was cradled in a dark cloud. Floating. A sudden flash of light pulled him…toward what, he didn’t know. He dreamt. The sensation of pleasurable warmth that had surrounded him quickly morphed into a cold emptiness. He tried to make his way back to the comfort of the cloud. An enigmatic sound barely registered at the outer edge of his consciousness, and then the warmth returned. Soft and velvety, sliding alongside him and surrounding one of his legs in blissful capture. Even before he opened his eyes, Scott realized this was no dream. Perhaps it was her light vanilla scent, or the feel of slender fingers resting on his chest. But the stirring in his groin was definitely due to Mary’s real-life touch. He blinked his eyes open just in time to be blinded by a bright flash. Instinct caused him to clutch her to him. He heard her gasp, and Mary met his gaze with clear gray eyes. In a heartbeat, two very different areas of his brain were fighting for control of his body. One part was ready to inundate Mary with questions. What the hell was that flash? Why are you lying here with me? The other part wanted nothing more than to immerse itself in pleasure; to drink in the feel of a very naked Mary in his arms. This side of his brain didn’t give a damn why she was there. It was satisfied to touch the silk of her skin, to inhale her feminine scent and 58

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hope for a chance to taste her sweetness. As the moments passed, his vision cleared enough to focus on her face. Mary’s lips parted, but she offered no explanation for her nudity or the fact that she lay next to him with one leg wrapped around his. Her eyes clouded and grew stormy, and he felt her fingers slowly sift through the hair on his chest. Then as her hand glided down his abs the warmth inside him flared to the heat of a starburst. He grabbed her fingers, somehow knowing her goal before she reached it. Wide awake and now fully aroused, he raised Mary’s hand above her head and flipped her onto her back. With one leg he pinned her between himself and the back of the sofa. Now would be the time to ask what the hell was happening, but the hunger reflected in her eyes told him she had even less interest in conversation than usual. Scott lowered his head and covered her mouth with his, meeting no resistance. On the contrary, Mary opened her lips and issued an invitation with her soft moan. He accepted, savoring and tasting her tongue, the slick interior walls of her mouth, the even ridgeline of her perfect teeth. He pulled away, longing for a taste of the soft slope of her neck. She arched her head back into the cushions as if to extend the boundaries of his exploration. Her free hand cupped his nape as his kisses trickled along her collarbone and dipped to the satin valley between her breasts. Then his tongue glided over one mound to flick her taut nipple. “Ohhhhh.” Her fingers gripped his scalp. Scott paused to blow cool air over the puckered areola, admiring the luscious pink. Wanting to taste its sweetness again, he drew it into his mouth. Mary increased the pressure of her fingers at the back of his head and arched in what he interpreted as blind ecstasy. “Oh, yes.” He gave her nipple one last, playful lick before turning his attention to her other breast. “Oh, Scott, that feels so good.” She wasn’t afraid to tell him what she liked. Even as his mouth suckled her, the corners of his lips turned up in a smile. He loved her enthusiasm, and this was just the

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beginning. She writhed underneath him, pressing his granite erection into the soft skin of her thigh. God, he was closer to coming than he’d like to admit. “I want you inside me.” Man, oh, man. Scott found himself teetering on a very precarious edge. “My wallet. I’ve got to get a condom out of my wallet.” He’d never been so irresponsible as to not use protection, but this woman sorely tempted him to be a selfish bastard and thrust into her without it. “Hurry.” He pushed himself up and half-stumbled, half-ran to the bathroom to fish the single packet from his wallet. As he hurried back, Mary rolled over onto her tummy with her face buried in the cushions. She groaned in what he assumed was frustration. The woman has one spectacular ass. He was tempted to lift her hips off the cushions and enter her from behind, but that would prevent him from looking into her smoky gray eyes as he eased his way into her hot depths. As he stood above her sheathing himself, Mary flipped over and her legs fell apart in anticipation. Her gaze swept from his face to his feet and then returned to his groin. She nibbled her bottom lip for a moment, leaving it wet and enticing. “Mary, are you sure about this?” Scott couldn’t believe he’d actually thought it, let alone said it. Here was a beautiful, talented, sexy, naked woman with every bit of her body language screaming, “Let’s do it,” and he’s asking her if she’s sure? Who was having doubts here? “Absolutely. Positively.” She smiled and reached for him. Doubts be damned. He lowered himself on top of her and covered her mouth with his. Mary met him, kiss for kiss. He held part of his weight on his elbows, and she wrapped her arms around his back. Her fingers stroked the definition between his delts and traps, down his lats and then on to his ass. She squeezed his tightened buns and then lightly scored them with her short nails. He growled in her ear. “Damn woman, what are you trying to do to me?”

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“I’m doing something I’ve wanted to do ever since I first laid eyes on you. Shall I stop?” Why should he be surprised? Not only was she sexy as hell, she could be a tease when she wanted to. “Don’t you dare.” He took possession of her mouth again. She had his blood boiling, and he plundered her with wild kisses even as he ran one hand down her soft tummy. He feathered the springy hair on her mound and, when she raised her hips, sank two fingers inside. She was dewy and more than ready for him. As much as he wanted to slide into her right this moment, he’d prided himself on always taking his partner to the moon and back first. “Scott, please,” she pleaded, as he dipped and swirled around her swollen nub. Mary’s hips rolled under him, and her breathing quickened. He could feel her climbing toward that towering precipice, the tension in her body building. “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let it go.” Then her fingertips dug into the flesh of his biceps. “Scott!” She called out his name over and over again as she came. It had taken all his concentration to hold back, and he couldn’t wait one second longer. He quickly positioned himself and thrust into her. She was hot and tight, and he knew he was lost. His second thrust took him deeper, and her feminine muscles still convulsed around him. “Ohmigod!” Her climax was still going strong. She was amazing, a sexual dynamo. He pulled back and slid in again, trying to slow his body. Sweat beaded on his forehead and a drop rolled down his temple and splashed onto her breast. In an attempt to delay his own release, he concentrated on that bead of moisture gliding over her flesh and settling between her creamy breasts. As it glistened and quivered to the rhythm of his thrusts, he finally lost the battle of mind over body. Even as he froze inside her, Mary continued to sigh and sing her pleasure. It wasn’t until he had come back to earth and collapsed on top of her that he felt her tension ease. They lay there, still joined and panting.

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He allowed time for his pulse to slow before he spoke. “You certainly had me fooled. I guess you’re not so quiet and shy after all.” Molly forced herself not to tense in reaction to his comment. In their current position, he’d definitely notice. When Scott excused himself to dispose of the condom, she threw her forearm over her eyes. She’d blown it. Mary wouldn’t have been so…so vocal during love-making, but it had been impossible to maintain her role in the throes of passion. Scott had already commented on Mary’s sudden personality change. She prayed he’d leave it at that, a casual comment. As much as she’d love to cuddle and talk about what a magnificent lover he was, she knew it was essential she resume her part. “Hey.” He rejoined her on the wide-cushioned couch, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “That’s got to be, without a doubt, the best wake-up call I’ve ever had.” What to say? She couldn’t erupt with joy and share her feelings as Molly would, but neither could she totally dismiss what had just happened. “I know that must have come as a big surprise.” “Oh, yeah. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I just must have slept through the chapter that explained how you ended up naked and horizontal with me.” “Well,” she began. This was going to be tricky. She pushed away from his chest, rolled off the sofa and grabbed her tee shirt off the floor. Scott tried to pull her back down, but she avoided his grasp. “Hey, where are you going? If I’d known bringing it up was going to spook you, I would have taken it to the grave.” He sounded earnest. “It’s okay. I just want to explain.” She held the shirt in front of her. “After you fell asleep I was studying the other three drawings. Suddenly, it came to me. What the series needed was a couple.” Scott seemed to be watching her closely, as if to make sure she wasn’t going to run off and lock herself in another room. Then, slowly, he returned to his original pose, half reclining on the sofa, listening. He seemed so at ease with his nudity. Was it because

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they’d become lovers, or had he already gotten over his discomfort? Whatever the reason, guilt prevented her from being as comfortable, so she pulled the tee shirt over her head. She stretched it down, although it didn’t quite conceal her bottom, and then sat on the only other chair in the living area. “I tried to wake you,” she said, but his raised eyebrow made her add, “sort of.” She felt the true Molly slipping through and attempted to steel herself to his probing expression. “I didn’t really think I’d wake you though. I was just taking a few photographs to work from.” She bit the inside of her cheek in order to keep herself from rattling on. “I see. And what if I hadn’t approved of being photographed in such a…questionable pose.” “If you’d objected, I would have destroyed the pictures,” she said. “And the pose was innocent. A simple embrace.” “A nude man and woman—a horizontal nude man and woman—doesn’t sound so innocent to me.” Scott raised his brow again, and she finally admitted to herself how weak her reasoning had been. “I think we also proved that such a pose is far from innocent. Don’t you agree?” He had a point. When she’d felt his arms tighten around her and had looked up into his eyes, innocence had gone the way of the dodo bird. “I…I,” she stammered. “Listen.” Scott rolled off the front of the sofa and stalked her on his hands and knees like a tiger. His muscles rippled with each movement, and delightful shivers ran up her spine and down her extremities. “I’ll forgive all your sins in exchange for one thing.” He reached her and put a hand on each armrest, effectively trapping her in the chair. Being held prisoner by Scott was the kind of punishment fantasies were made of. “What?” She focused her gaze on his full lips as they curved into a seductive smile. “For the rest of this assignment, whenever I’m naked, you have to be naked, too.” There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Deal?”

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Oh, she was going to regret this somewhere down the road, but she couldn’t resist him. “Deal.” “Effective immediately.” And he reached for the hem of her shirt.

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Chapter Ten

Molly didn’t bother fighting as he whisked the shirt over her head and tossed it across the room. Thankful the discussion seemed to be at an end, she slid her hands over his broad shoulders and locked them behind his neck. Scott leaned into her, pushing her back into the cushions and spreading her knees with his abs. His mouth devoured hers and then left to nibble a hot, wet trail down her neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair, as his head moved lower still to where her breasts ached for his attention. His warm breath on her sensitized skin had her close to whimpering. Her distended nipples were like flowers straining for sunlight, and she instinctively arched her back to close the distance. He laved her right nipple once with his tongue before suckling her. “Yes,” she cried, so aroused by the sensation that part of her wanted to be swallowed up whole. Then his mouth left her breast and, before she could protest, he began kissing his way down her tummy. When he reached her mound, he glanced up at her with navy blue eyes darkened with passion. Although she’d always felt awkward during oral sex, the idea of Scott pleasing her this way was wildly erotic. He slid his hands around the small of her back and then down to cup her bottom, www.samhainpublishing.com

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gripping her flesh and lifting her to his full lips. His heated breath between her legs melted any trace of hesitation, and she likened this intimate kiss to having warm molasses rain down on her naked flesh. She gasped and sighed, pressing her hips closer to him and biting her bottom lip to keep from screaming in ecstasy. Lost to baser instinct, she rocked her hips to the lazy rhythm he set with his tongue. Then, like a tube of paint being slowly squeezed from the bottom, her orgasm built inside her. His oral caresses engulfed her in a rising tide of ecstasy. Finally the cry of delight she’d been suppressing burst from her lungs. She’d been holding his head in place for dear life but now she released him and reached above her head to grip the chair. “Ohhhh.” She almost screamed as she rose to the crest of the wave, then his increased energy and tempo lifted her high above the clouds.

I love you? Had he really heard Mary speak those words on the thinnest wisp of air? Scott put one hundred percent into her easy landing, which was one hell of a feat, considering the emotional blow she’d just dealt him. He gave one last, tender kiss to the silky inside of her thigh before rising. He switched places with her, smoothly lifting her and sliding her liquid body onto his lap as he sat on the chair. Mary’s cheek rested against his chest, which underneath the layer of sandy curls was damp with perspiration. Her head was tucked under his chin, and Scott wasn’t entirely certain she knew she’d spoken the words aloud. She had, right? He hadn’t mistaken what she’d whispered? He didn’t think so. But where had that come from? They’d only met yesterday. Sure, a couple other women had said it to him in the past—his signal it was time to move on—but in all those cases, they’d been dating steadily. He stroked a section of Mary’s long hair that lay along the length of her arm. Her breathing had slowed to long even pulls of air, causing her ribcage to expand and contract against his other palm. Only the feather-light touch of her finger twirling in his chest hair

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told him she was awake. For once he was relieved by Mary’s silence. He needed time to consider what he was going to do. Maybe she says that whenever she has an orgasm. The ultimate high had certainly been known to account for loose tongues before, but her whispered confession had come out of nowhere, catching him completely off guard. His friend, Molly, didn’t seem like the type to take love and commitment lightly. Wouldn’t Mary, as her twin, have similar values? Wouldn’t she feel that love meant more than mind-blowing sex? The sisters might not be identical when it came to style and social ease, but he figured something of this magnitude would stem from the basic morals instilled by their parents. Mary sighed and rested her delicate fists in the mat of hair on his chest. She fit him, her contours almost interlocking with the shape of his body. Scott fought the unwelcome arousal that pressed against her delicious bottom. Damn. What am I gonna do? He knew what his body wanted to do. It wanted to lay her down on the floor and slide into her velvety folds, all within a matter of seconds. But then what? That was the million-dollar question he would have to face, be it now or thirty minutes from now. At least with Mary half-dozing he had time to consider his options. That floor thing wasn’t gonna happen. Couldn’t happen. At least not tonight. He was fresh out of condoms. And brilliant ideas. He closed his eyes, wishing he could turn back the clock. This sucked. Not the mindblowing sex part; that had been frickin’ awesome. No, it was analyzing his options, when all he’d wanted to do was enjoy some mutually satisfying sex with a beautiful woman. Jeez, if he’d known he was going to have to deal with a post-coital “I love you”, he’d have hightailed it out of her apartment the second he’d woken up and found her sprawled out, naked and soft… Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t have left. But he wasn’t in love with Mary. And her whispered confession was mind-boggling, to say the least. It was like the tale of Rip Van Winkle, only he was the one who’d slept through the time period where he and Mary had

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gotten to know each other. Hell, I barely know her. He grimaced at the unintended pun. Sure, now he knew her in the biblical sense, but he hadn’t made any plans to get serious with Mary. And she hadn’t exactly seemed interested in getting to know him. She gave a gentle snuffle and snuggled against his chest. God, she looked so much like he’d imagined Molly would without glasses and with her hair down. Minus the nose piercing and gypsy earrings. Scott took advantage of Mary’s apparent slumber to play devil’s advocate. Sure, she was beautiful and talented, and tonight he’d only whetted his sexual appetite. She was obviously interested in a physical relationship, but her passionate confession had him doubting whether she could leave it at that. What if he worked his tail off to get to know her and never felt anything more than physical arousal? Would that kind of relationship be worth it? Mary certainly hadn’t been much for conversation. In that regard she was the polar opposite of Molly. Scott could talk to Molly about anything and everything. He liked that. No, more than liked. She made him laugh, she made him think, she helped him relax, she… A dorky grin spread across on his face before the corners of his mouth took a freefall. Shit, he had a full-blown hard-on. And he wasn’t convinced it was due to the gorgeous woman nestled in his lap. This was just too frickin’ weird. It was getting hard—no, nix that word. It was becoming difficult to make the distinction between the sisters. After all, they were identical twins with identical features. The difference was how they displayed them. He looked down and studied what he could see of Mary’s face. Dark lashes and gray eye shadow bordered the gentle curve of her lids and were in stark contrast to her ivory skin. Her succulent lips formed a tiny smile, and Scott felt an odd sense of…déjà vu. An awful lot like Molly’s smile… He glanced at the silver stud in Mary’s nostril and squashed the rest of that crazy

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thought. No. This identical twin thing was playing major head games with what was left of his functioning brain cells. Mary stirred and then slowly sat up, straightening her spine. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was so relaxed I fell asleep on you for a minute.” Her hands had risen to rest on his smooth shoulders, and the blush on her cheeks rivaled Molly’s when they’d discussed his erection dilemma. A tingling sensation ran up his spine. You’re doing it again. They’re identical twins—of course they look alike when they blush. “No problem. I’m wiped out myself.” He was mentally drained, but he didn’t want Mary to sense his confusion and almost desperate desire for escape. “Of course.” She climbed out of his lap. Judging by her hasty retreat, Scott feared his poker face was slipping. He stood, not quite ready to release her hand. “Do you think the photos you took will work out?” “I think so.” Mary looked as if she felt the same awkwardness he was dealing with. “Maybe we should call it a night.” Yeah, so you can go home, get your head out of your ass and try to figure out what the hell you’re gonna do. “Yes.” Simple, concise, back to the same pre-sex Mary. How could he confuse the two? Molly would probably talk a guy’s ear off after making love. Irritation at the sudden image of Molly with another man had his head spinning. He had to get out of here. After carrying the robe back to the bathroom, hanging it on the hook and dressing, he still didn’t know what to say to Mary. She saved him the trouble of fumbling for words. “Will the same time tomorrow evening be convenient for your third session?” Her cool tone chilled him to the core. “That’ll be fine.” He was content to take the easy way out and leave. But later, as he lay awake in his bed, he was still racked with confusion. Mary had

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awakened his body to sexual feelings unlike any he’d ever experienced, but when it came to the kind of closeness his soul craved, all he felt was a void. According to the deal Molly had arranged, tomorrow would be his last night modeling. After that, he wouldn’t have to see Mary again if he didn’t want to. Or would he? Would his conscience let him forget her and simply walk away with his five hundred dollars? And would he be able to walk away from—without a doubt—the most desirable woman he’d ever laid eyes on? A woman who satisfied his sexual cravings as if she’d been created specifically for his pleasure? But was pleasure enough? He turned over, punched his pillow, and stewed.

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Chapter Eleven

At the office, without her worry ring to spin, Molly had chewed her left thumb nail down to the nub. For the millionth time since breakfast, she lambasted herself about last night. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she conjure up such a half-baked plan and jumpstart a sexual relationship with Scott? She’d certainly made a train wreck of things. Why, oh, why hadn’t she taken the time to think it through? She winced when she drew blood and switched her nibbling to the right thumb. Wondering about Scott was making her crazy. She yearned to hear how important last night had been to him. Yeah, right. Men didn’t think that way. Was it possible that the most wonderful experience of her life been nothing out of the ordinary to him? He hadn’t had much to say afterward. And what had she done to send him packing a second time? Had her falling asleep injured his male pride? She didn’t know but the two of them needed to talk about their sudden intimacy. Her insides felt like a shaken can of soda, and Scott was the only person who could pop the top. He had become her best friend long before he’d become her lover. She ached for the chance to confide in him, to spill her guts about the whole, idiotic twin idea. www.samhainpublishing.com

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Mentally chiding herself, Molly pinched the bridge of her nose under her glasses, waiting for the two aspirin she’d swallowed to take effect. Scott wouldn’t have told their co-workers about her private life, if she’d asked him not to. Too bad she hadn’t been smart enough to figure that out two days ago and avoided this colossal mess. Now, when he found out how she’d deceived him, he’d probably never forgive her. She checked her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last half-hour, wondering where Scott could be. She’d dropped by his cubicle a couple times throughout the morning, finally leaving a note about going to lunch together. To avoid becoming the latest tidbit in the always-plentiful diet of office gossip, she hadn’t asked anyone where he was. It was almost one o’clock now. Lunch wasn’t going to happen. Trying to ignore her growling stomach, Molly wondered if Scott was deliberately avoiding her. Resigned to dining alone, she made her way to the glossy bank of employee lounge vending machines and selected a package of peanut butter crackers and a diet soda. Taking her so-called lunch back to her cubicle, she ate at her drafting table while the previous evening kept replaying in her mind. At first, it had been smooth sailing. Scott had been comfortable, and she’d managed to stay a little more focused on her work than on the first night. But when she’d paused to watch him sleep, she’d allowed her desires to override her professionalism. She had come up with yet another hairbrained scheme. Had she really thought he wouldn’t wake up? But she’d been so determined to make herself the woman in her vision, skin-to-skin, embracing her lover. She couldn’t believe how she’d rushed in, not allowing even a moment to think ahead, knowing her actions were unethical. Never before had a man driven her to be so out of control. She should have fought to regain focus, finished the drawing and hired two other models for the lovers’ pose. But even now, no matter how much she regretted her impetuousness, she would always savor their lovemaking. In all her dreams, both daylight and nighttime, she had never come close to comprehending how extraordinary it could be. Her previous sexual endeavors had had her thinking people romanticized what was

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simply a very pleasant experience, but now she understood what romance writers described. Deep down in her subconscious, had she used the couple’s pose merely as a convenient excuse? The memory of their intimacy had her smoldering, and one touch from Scott could easily send her up in flames. It was a good thing he wasn’t around. She closed her eyes, held her cool soda can to her cheek and then slipped open two buttons on her cotton blouse in order to run the bottom edge of the can along her collarbone. “Phew.” “Take it all off, baby.” Molly set down the soda and immediately began buttoning her blouse, not bothering to hide the look of disgust on her face. “Is there something you need, Boyce?” The egotistical advertising executive was one of the last people Molly wanted to have walk in on her when she had more than one square centimeter of skin exposed. “Now, don’t get snippy. I’m paying you a compliment.” He gave her one of his canned catalogue smiles. She’d seen firsthand how Boyce used his GQ good looks to charm female clients and employees, but she’d been spared from them until now. “Well, I’m not flattered. And I’d appreciate you restricting your comments to business matters. Now, what is it you need?” His smile faded only marginally as he presented her with a copy of some notes from one of their client meetings. Feeling as if his smarmy gaze was still upon her even after he’d gone, Molly reproached herself for letting her guard down, even for a moment.

*** Scott eyed the crumpled-up note in his otherwise empty wastebasket. It was Molly’s invitation to lunch, and he was still trying to convince himself it was okay to pretend he hadn’t seen it until it was too late. Guilt was eating at his gut, along with the Inferno Special he’d had for lunch at La Mesa’s with a few other guys from the department. He’d been thinking he should work a little harder at forming friendships with some www.samhainpublishing.com

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of his male coworkers. Okay, so it had only occurred to him when he’d seen Molly’s message. Truth was, he wasn’t ready to face her. Would Mary have told Molly that they’d become lovers? He’d never been into kissing and telling, but he wasn’t so sure about the sisters. He’d seen enough chick flicks on dates to know some women shared everything. What will I say to Molly? He hated to think all this would negatively impact his relationship with her, but wasn’t avoiding her proof that it already had? She was bound to become angry if he broke her sister’s heart. Yet, if he continued to see Mary, he feared working with one sister and sleeping with the other would lead to nothing but trouble. He glanced at his desk clock and decided to pack it in for the day. There was still one more modeling session tonight and he wanted to avoid Molly until afterwards. By then, he hoped he would’ve decided whether to pursue a relationship with Mary. That very subject consumed his thoughts during his drive home, and then through a quick workout at the gym and frozen dinner du jour. But time didn’t help. When Scott arrived at Mary’s building, the only thing he’d decided was to follow her lead. Perhaps conversation wouldn’t be so strained tonight. If she opened up, maybe he’d find out she was just as much fun as her sister. Molly’s candor and liveliness, Mary’s body and sexuality. Scott winced. There I go, merging them again. He had to stop playing Pygmalion; it wasn’t fair to either of them. But as much as he knew he shouldn’t, he’d spent way too much time fantasizing about a woman who didn’t really exist. He paused outside the door to her apartment and took a deep breath. Just follow her lead and keep it honest. He knocked. As if she’d been waiting just inside, Mary suddenly swung the door open and backed away. “Hello, Scott.” Good. At least she’s smiling. “Hi.”

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He took a few steps into the apartment and turned as he heard the door click shut. He was about to ask her something safe—like how her day had been—when suddenly, his words were cut off by her lips. Her arms coiled around his neck like man-eating vines, and their bodies fit together from chest to knee as perfectly as matching puzzle pieces. Mary nipped his bottom lip with her teeth and then licked it playfully. Hot damn. Scott’s brain cells reengaged and he was about to return her fervor, when Mary broke the kiss and took a determined step away. “I decided to take Molly’s advice,” she said. “Now I can work with a clear head. I won’t be wasting time wondering whether or not we’re going to kiss.” Scott shook his head in amazement. Leave it to Molly to tackle a problem head-on. “I take it your sister knows what happened between us last night?” Suddenly, with this realization, disappointment flooded him. Molly knowing about his sexual interlude with Mary gnawed at his gut. “Yes, she does.” Mary broke off her smile and cleared her throat. Hadn’t it occurred to her that he might not have wanted Molly to know? Just forget it. Don’t make this so complicated. His body clamored to head back down the path Mary had started it on with that kiss. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get right to work,” she said. “You’re kidding, right? You just got my pistons firing.” Then he remembered the deal he’d made her agree to the previous evening. “Wait, you’re absolutely right. I’ll go get ready.” Scott headed straight into the bathroom, enjoying the look of confusion he’d seen on her face at his swift acquiescence. He quickly undressed, donned the robe and emerged. Mary set one of her stools in front of a lighted backdrop. “I’d like to try this pose tonight.” She sat on the stool and modeled the desired pose, resting a leather-bound book on the top of one thigh. Her right heel hooked on a rung of the stool while her left leg was extended, foot flat on the floor. “I thought you wanted a pose with a couple?”

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She shifted her gaze away from his. “I want to try this last pose.” She made no mention of the previous evening’s sofa session. Scott felt no hesitancy as he handed her the robe. But he wondered whether Mary would comply as easily.

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Chapter Twelve

“All set?” Molly took his robe and laid it across the back of the sofa, fighting to keep her gaze from his sex. I can do this. She’d gotten that kiss out of her system and should be able to concentrate on drawing. Two hours max, and Scott will have completed his modeling assignment. “No.” The negative response had her struggling to recall what she’d asked. Oh, yes. Was he ready? “What’s the matter?” She looked around for some clue as to what was wrong. “You seem to be forgetting something.” His expression gave nothing away. Molly ticked through a mental checklist but came up empty. “What?” “Don’t you remember the deal we made last night?” Her brows furrowed in bafflement. She remembered a lot about last night, but… “I guess not,” he answered his own question. “You must have been as tired as I was. Think back. You took some photographs without my consent. I promised to forgive you on one condition.” She twirled her worry ring with her thumb, thinking. After replaying that portion of www.samhainpublishing.com

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their conversation, her cheeks grew hot with the recollection. “Ah, I see it’s coming back to you.” His grin widened. “You weren’t serious, were you?” She tingled all over at the prospect of Scott calling in his marker. “Totally serious. You can start drawing as soon as you take off your clothes.” There was a devilish look of desire in his eyes. “Scott,” she began. Molly had no doubt she could talk her way out of this situation, but tight-lipped Mary had two choices. Comply or refuse. “Don’t trust yourself?” He raised one eyebrow. Molly couldn’t let his challenge go unaccepted, and she was honest enough to admit she hungered for more of what they’d shared last night. Actually, had thought of nothing else since then. Without a word, she set down her graphite and took a step away from the easel. She may not be able to verbally taunt without giving herself away, but damned if she wasn’t going to tease him in a way only Mary could. She began a very slow, very deliberate striptease. Scott’s self-confident grin lost some of its oomph as she slid open the top button on the front of her oversized shirt. Button by button, she taunted him as the V opening spread wider and lower. His jaw came unhinged when she peeled the shirt from her shoulders, revealing her bare breasts. She was certain Scott was holding his breath as she untied the drawstring of her cotton lounge pants, loosened the waistband and let them drop. She stepped out of the rumpled cloth and made a 180-degree turn, allowing him a rear view of her hot pink thong and all it didn’t cover. This is too much fun. Turning in profile, she hooked her thumbs under the top of her panties. Then, with the speed of chilled honey, she dragged her panties down, down, down. By this time, Scott’s penis had awarded her performance a standing ovation. Molly licked her lips in anticipation, hungering for him in a way she had never wanted any man. But this was just a preview of things to come, so to speak. First, they needed to work.

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“Does this fulfill my end of the bargain?” She was totally turned-on but, as long as Scott didn’t regain his composure and turn up the heat, she thought she could maintain control. “Oh, yeah,” he replied, standing. She forged ahead. “Good. If you’ll just sit back down in the correct pose, I’ll get started.” She picked up her graphite and waited with one brow cocked, giving Scott a silent reminder that he’d initiated this showdown. Bluff called and looking pretty darned frustrated, he settled back onto the stool. “You don’t play fair,” he said. “Unlike some people, I can’t turn myself on and off like a light switch.” Molly took no offense, knowing he was venting a bit of sexual frustration. “Your idea,” she reminded him, and then set to work.

“How about a break?” Molly asked. The drawing was done. Her hand had flown over the page at an amazing speed as if synergized by some unknown cosmic force. Tonight, she’d maintained focus, finished in record time and was pleased with the outcome. “Sounds great.” She had encouraged Scott to roll his shoulders and neck during the sitting. He stood and set the book on the stool, flexing his stiffened leg muscles and making his way over to the easel. “Wow, I can’t believe how much detail you captured. It’s dead-on.” She could tell he really admired her talent, just as he always had with her work at the office. “I was inspired.” She smiled. Scott looked from the drawing to her face and—in the flash of only half a second— his smile faltered and then reset itself. “Is something wrong?” She had to remind herself not to pull a response out of him

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the way Molly would. “No, I’m just kind of thirsty.” He looked around the room. “Do you mind if I help myself?” “Go ahead.” Molly knew full well that being thirsty was not what had so briefly shadowed his expression. Had she said something to give herself away? Praying she’d read too much into his expression, she averted her eyes and wiped her hands on a baby wipe. Scott pulled a chilled bottle of spring water out of the refrigerator, chugging most of its contents. Unable to resist, she watched his Adam’s apple as it rose and fell. I must be the only woman in the free world who gets hot and bothered by a man drinking water. She walked over and leaned on the counter next to him, unsure of herself for the first time all evening. Scott wiped his lips with the back of his hand and took a deep breath, his eyes sweeping the room. “I’ve noticed you don’t have any pictures of you and Molly out anywhere.” Her fingers tightened against the edge of the counter. “I’ve never been much for photographs.” She needed to get his mind on something else. And with both of them naked as newborns, she couldn’t believe his thoughts hadn’t returned to her earlier striptease. “That’s pretty fancy camera equipment you’ve got for someone who isn’t into photographs.” Damn. Why did he have to pick now to notice? Good luck talking yourself out of this one. She reminded herself not to run off at the mouth the way Molly would. “My parents bought both of us that stuff for graduation, but Molly’s the real shutterbug.” “Uh, huh.” Her pulse quickened. This wasn’t going well, and he looked as if he was formulating

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yet another question. Time for a distraction. And way past time to do what she’d been thinking about doing all day. After all, their work was done. And she, for one, hadn’t forgotten they were both naked. She reached for Scott’s water and took a drink, purposely leaving her bottom lip moist. Then she ran the sweating bottle down her neck and between her breasts. She watched his gaze follow the trail of moisture along her skin. “Hot?” Finally, his tone and expression signaled interest. “Very.” Molly touched the bottle to one of her nipples. A drop of condensation clung there as she moved the bottle to her other hardened nipple. She closed her eyes and arched her back, issuing a wordless invitation. “God, you are so damned sexy. It’s taking every ounce of self-restraint I have not to toss you up on the counter and push my way into you.” Molly wished she was on the pill. She would have dared him to do it. Instead, she set the bottle on the counter, cupped the weight of his sex with one hand and circled his length with the other. “You’re killing me.” He took hold of her forearms and pushed them behind her back. “I need to get a condom out of my wallet.” “No, you don’t. Not if I—” He cut her off. “As much as I want your hands and mouth on me—and believe me, babe, I do—I’m still not going to be able to forego sinking myself into you.” A groan of half-lust and half-frustration escaped her. “My bed, then. I’m giving you thirty seconds to get there with that condom.” In apparent agreement, he released her and headed for the bathroom. Molly opened the door to her bedroom, wondering whether she’d left something out in plain sight which could give her away. When Scott met up with her and slid his hand around her to grasp her breast, all thought and worry scattered like dandelion seeds in a summer breeze. His firm penis

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pressed against her bottom and she had to concentrate to keep her legs from buckling. “Your skin is so soft,” he murmured in her ear. Then he nibbled and licked the lobe. The urge to press her bottom back into him was so strong Molly didn’t consider fighting it. The condom package landed on the bed, as Scott ground his pelvis against her backside. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I aim to please.” One hand slid down over her tummy to her core. His fingers parted her folds and lingered in the moistness of her sex. “Oh, Scott.” She gave an impassioned sigh as his first two fingers circled her clit. His other hand alternately kneaded her left breast and tweaked its beaded nipple. The combination was her undoing, and Molly wanted nothing more than to meld into him. “Next time will be slow and easy, baby,” he said, “But you’ve got me so far gone already.” He nudged her over to stand next to her bed, and then his hands returned to petting and delighting. His erection pressed firmly against her back. She wanted him. Now. This way. From behind. Molly leaned over and braced her hands on the bed. Looking back over her shoulder, she watched Scott quickly rip open the condom package and cover himself. Totally in sync with her desires, he positioned the head of his penis at her entrance. She faced the bed and pushed back against him, wanting him inside her with an intensity that shot any modicum of shyness into oblivion. “I want you,” she said. “Hard.” And Scott complied, filling her with his first thrust. But the ecstasy was paired with teasing as he withdrew and then pushed his way back inside. Molly turned her head to the side and laid her cheek on the bed. She gripped the comforter in her fists as Scott’s thrusts drove them both higher. Then his right hand released her hip and snaked around to find the center of her desire. “Come with me,” he said, as much in demand as in plea. His talented fingers issued their own invitation as the head of his penis pounded her womb. The combination of physical sensations snapped her inner coil and Molly felt herself rocket skyward. She was soaring, high above all deceptions and fears. And then she felt

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Scott join her in climax. Together they flew higher and higher, where nothing could touch them. “Molly,” he called out on their way to heaven. But hearing her real name sent her crashing down to earth.

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Chapter Thirteen

Shit, shit, shit. Scott wanted to wind the clock back. Just one minute would do it. One frickin’ minute would be enough to avoid the catastrophe he’d just brought about. Tossing the used condom into a wastebasket next to the bed, Scott watched Mary turn away and curl up on her side. He deserved her wrath and disdain. But—God help him—he’d rather face big, fat tears than silence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, clueless as to how to set things right. He was totally pissed at himself and confused as hell. And in love with the best parts of both women. But at the crucial moment, he’d called out Molly’s name. Wrong sister, asshole. Scott looked at Mary’s back, almost wishing she’d scream at him to get the hell out of her apartment. But she lay so still. With no idea what to say, he forced himself to reach out and touch her shoulder. She was stiff as a marble column. “I’m sorry.” That was the pitiful best he could come up with. Maybe she’d forgive him. She hadn’t slapped his hand away, which granted him a small measure of hope. Mary sat up and slowly turned to face him. Moisture pooled in her eyes, and his stomach plunged into a freefall. How could he have been such an idiot? He might not be in love with this woman, but he would have cut off an appendage rather than hurt her. 84

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And Molly. Molly was never going to forgive him for breaking her sister’s heart. “I’m so sorry.” Scott held her gaze. “I’m not sure what to say.” Had he missed something? Wasn’t that his line? If he’d been the wronged party, he could have thought of plenty to say. You’re scum. Get the hell out. Or, sorry, jerk, wrong sister. Take your pick. “Do you believe in forgiveness, Scott?” One tear spilled from the corner of her eye, but Mary didn’t wipe it away. God, he wished he’d never taken this job. Then this fiasco wouldn’t have happened. Her frozen expression reflected neither rhetoric nor sarcasm. It was damned tempting to say “yes”, but she deserved the truth, not some quick answer to get himself out of the doghouse. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. Mary sat deathly still, and he took it as a sign to explain. This was a sore topic for him, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “My stepmother is a habitual liar. Rob and I have put up with a lot from her over the years.” He looked past Mary’s shoulder, the recollections bitter. “She lied about other men. She lied about the money my dad had saved for our college educations.” Scott realized his fists were clenched in tension. He spread his fingers wide and planted them on his knees. “She lied when she said she loved us. Love doesn’t look like what we lived through.” More tears escaped Mary’s eyes, and they felt like the pounding of a sledgehammer to his chest. “She’s never asked me for forgiveness. But even if she did, I don’t think I could give it. She’s the reason Rob is so messed up.” Mary gazed at him and he wasn’t sure if it was hurt or pity filling her expression. He sure as hell didn’t deserve pity. And hurt… Ah, shit. He just wanted to get out of here. “Maybe I’d better go.” As he left the bedroom, she still didn’t move; just sat there still and silent, which was

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the polar opposite of the way he felt. He needed a punching bag. When he came out of the bathroom, Mary had already pulled on her clothes and was standing by the sofa. “There’s something I need to tell you. Can we sit?” Here it comes. She’d had a chance to think, and now she was going to let him have it. He was so pissed at himself that he was ready to explode. So, masochistically, he hoped she’d do a thorough job of reaming him. He sat in the armchair, ready to absorb her anger. “Scott, I have no right to ask this, but will you promise to hear me out?” No right? Is she nuts? As much as he wanted to be anywhere else, he’d sit here and take it, even if she pulled out a baseball bat. “Yeah.” Mary sat down on the edge of the sofa, nervously spinning her ring with her thumb. The unconscious gesture caused Scott a sudden wave of nausea. She took what appeared to be a fortifying breath while he struggled to swallow the bile rising in his throat. “You have been the victim in all of this, Scott.” Blood began pounding in his ears. “I’ve lied to you from the beginning and, although I didn’t think anyone would get hurt, I was fooling myself. I’ve manipulated you, and I never should have done that.” He locked his jaw, bracing himself for the coming blow. “Now, I know you’re not going to believe I did it for you, but I did. Sort of. And for me. Oh, it’s just that I wasn’t sure I could trust you, but I should have known I could.” As she rambled, the urgency and tone of her voice rose. She rose and began pacing, her abrupt turns and determined gait becoming painfully familiar. Scott felt the hot rush of anger burn in his belly. “You needed the money and were being so stubborn about earning it, rather than taking a loan. I needed a male model for my drawings, and you were perfect.” She made one last turn and faced him, fear, pleading, guilt and—damn it—beauty radiating from her.

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Molly. Scott couldn’t believe he’d been so damned gullible. There were no twin sisters. Molly and Mary were one and the same. And take your pick; they’d both played him for the biggest sucker in the world. He stood, not sure he could make it outside before putting his fist through a wall. He wanted to hurt her as much as he was hurting. “I hope you’re satisfied with the stud service. Was it worth five hundred?” Molly’s wince let him know his blow had hit its mark. He headed for the door. “Wait,” she called. “You promised you’d hear me out.” Scott stopped and turned, furious that she’d tricked him—yet again—into giving such an oath. His word was sacred and, by God, he’d keep it, but there was no way in hell he was going to make this easier. He wordlessly crossed his arms and let his gaze bore into hers. She looked like she’d expected him to come back and sit. No frickin’ way. She walked toward him and stopped an arm’s length away. “I’m sorry I lied. If I could do it all over again I would have thought of some other way.” She was struggling to keep her voice, Molly’s voice, calm. “It was the only way I could think of for us to both get what we wanted.” The unshed tears glistening in her gray eyes were far from enough to penetrate his anger. “Yeah, five hundred for me and a couple good lays for you.” It was a damned good line, said for the express purpose of hurting her. Molly’s stunned look should have offered some measure of satisfaction, but it didn’t. Then her expression transformed into one of anger. “I’m tempted to deck you for that one,” she said through clenched teeth. “But I guess I deserve it.” He clenched his teeth right back. “And more.” She ignored the barb and that pissed him off even more. He was primed for a fight. “I’d like to be able to explain why I needed to deceive you.”

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“Deceive me?” he said. “Baby, take a look in a mirror. You haven’t been straight with anyone at K&B.” The whole disguise thing was nuts. Baggy clothes hiding a body that could kill, glasses, the librarian hairdo… The way she’d pretended to be his best friend. Ha. “You’re right, but I had no choice.” “Oh, is making yourself as dowdy as possible part of your job description? Sharon may not have liked hitting the big Five-O this year, but I doubt she insists that you dress the way you do so men will look her way instead.” “Of course not, but I’ve had trouble with male coworkers before…when I worked for Morton Advertising in Chicago.” He gave her a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “A simple ‘buzz off’ works wonders.” “It didn’t. Believe me, I tried. But when you’re fresh out of college and it’s your boss making the passes, it’s like trying to jump rope on the edge of a razorblade.” Scott had seen her verbally overpower more than one jerk at the office. It couldn’t have been so bad as to make her live a lie. “If you want to pretend to be someone else, that’s up to you, but I resent being conned into participating in the whole charade.” He turned and reached for the doorknob. “I did what I did to protect myself. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt.” He swiveled back to face her. Several barbs came to mind, each meant to wound mercilessly. “You’re something else, you know that? Here I’d been thinking I was the shit in this. Lusting after a combination of two women.” He shook his head and chuckled quietly, disgust and fury giving it a maniacal air. “What a fool.” “Don’t, Scott. You’re not a fool.” Scott ground his teeth, doing his damnedest to forestall a violent reaction. He took a deep breath, studying her. Suddenly hate was like a tornado, swirling all around him, and he’d stepped into the calmness of the eye. “The fake nose piercing was a nice touch.” He’d bet money the tattoo was fake as well. He turned to leave.

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“Scott, please stay and we’ll talk.” Nothing on earth could keep him there. He opened the door, crossed the threshold and spoke without looking back. “You know, since Mary was better at screwing than talking, and the Molly I knew doesn’t really exist, we’re all done.”

The unbearable burden of despair had her sinking to her knees. Staring at the closed door and wishing that Scott would come back, but knowing in her soul he wouldn’t, Molly gave in to tears. She’d never seen him so angry. He would never forgive her. His parting words were so cruel that when he’d said they were done, she’d known he meant it. Regret tried to offer a trace of consolation, but her guilt was a potent attendant and pushed away any hope of comfort. Warm tears soaked the neckline of her top and dotted the wood floor as she leaned forward, hugging herself. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He hates you. You’re a liar and a fraud. Minutes passed as she cried, letting herself drown in sorrow. She couldn’t stop picturing the hurt and anger in Scott’s eyes. And when her tears finally ran dry, she pushed herself to her feet. Exhaustion made rising and walking a formidable task but she numbly went through the motions of locking up, getting ready for bed and laying out clothes for the next morning. Out of habit, Molly pulled a pair of her wide-leg slacks out of her closet. She froze as more of his words came back to taunt her. “You haven’t been straight with anyone at K&B.” He was right. She hadn’t only lied to Scott, she’d misrepresented herself to all her associates and her boss. Her female boss. Suddenly she felt like the biggest coward. All this time she’d convinced herself that wearing a disguise was the smart thing to do. After all, proactive people were intelligent. But she’d conveniently forgotten the old saying, “The easy way is the coward’s way”. And with this new realization, she recognized a third emotion in addition to the hurt

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and anger of Scott’s words. Disgust. Feeling dead inside, she draped the slacks over her bedroom chair and lay on the bed. Any naive hope that they might someday work things out had just extinguished completely.

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Chapter Fourteen

“Scott, my man, you’re never gonna believe this.” Tom Franklin ducked into Scott’s cubicle and hiked a khaki-clad thigh across the corner of his desk. Scott closed his BlackBerry and tucked it inside his briefcase. He was tired and hungry—having been unable to sleep or eat since the previous evening’s emotional tsunami—so he was in no mood to play guessing games. “Tom, my man, I’m kind of busy.” He wasn’t, but maybe the guy would take the hint and hit the road. Tom waggled his eyebrows with promise. “But I’ve got a major surprise for you.” Scott sighed. Any hint short of a wrecking ball to the head was lost on Tom. “Then spill it and get out.” “Touchy, touchy,” Tom goaded. “And speaking of touchy, just wait ’til you get a load of Molly Birchfield today. Man, you’re gonna want to touch and taste every square inch of the chassis that woman’s been hiding.” Tom pinched his fingertips together at his lips like a cartoon chef savoring a succulent dish. Scott’s instincts went on full alert. Suddenly the guy was much more than an irritation and Scott had the overwhelming urge to separate Tom from his teeth. But since that could prove hazardous to his job security, he shoved his fists into his pants pockets. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“I take it Ms. Birchfield looks different in some way?” “Ms. Birchfield? Since when have you called Molly that?” Tom asked. “Say, what’s with you?” But rather than answer, Scott wordlessly pushed past the other man and headed toward the employee lounge. So, Molly had come out of the closet. Well, fine for her. She’d be happier in the long run because of it. Not that he was concerned about her happiness. No way. But living a lie eight hours a day, five days a week must have been a real bitch. As the vending machine cup dropped into position and filled with coffee, Scott went through the litany of names he’d called himself since last night. Idiot…moron…lame-brain…dumb-ass… How could he have been so stupid as to ignore the nagging sensations he’d had about Molly and Mary? All that bullshit twin confusion. The truth had been staring him in the face. To think he’d once believed Molly to be the most honest person in the world. And he was supposed to be smart. Ha. Scott tried to redirect his anger back at her by calculating how many other lies she must have told before this debacle. But their lunchtime conversations had usually revolved around jobs, coworkers, current events and entertainment. She really hadn’t told any bold-faced lies—that he knew of—until she’d concocted a twin sister. But, boy, was that a doozey. And she’d claimed that if he had accepted a loan from her, the whole fabrication might not have been necessary. Right, like this whole nightmare is my fault. He pulled the cup out of the coffee machine and took a sip, scalding his tongue. Damn it. Add that to the list of rotten things happening to him because of her. He paused to blow on the coffee before taking his next sip. It tasted like sludge and he felt like roadkill, having spent the entire night justifying how much he hated her. But in this state of exhaustion, he was beginning to vacillate between certainty and shades of doubt. She’d definitely lied when she’d claimed to be Mary, but before that? Did omitting details about one’s personal life equate to lying? Yes… Well, maybe… If so, he might

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have been guilty a time or two. But after a sleepless night, he was barely sure of his name, let alone the answer to such philosophical debates. This whole situation was so ironic. To find out his best friend was the perfect woman at the exact same time when that friendship was shattered by mistrust. After a long night of deliberating, Scott did believe she felt herself the victim of past harassment—he’d seen the pain in her eyes when she’d spoken of it. But his judgment wasn’t reliable. He’d also believed, without a doubt, that Molly Birchfield wore thick glasses and had the figure of a two-by-four. No doubt about it, his brain was one watt short of popping the circuit. He carried his cup through the maze of cubicles, stopping once in a while in his wanderings to sip, desperate for a caffeine surge. The leisurely pace would also let him cool down before he ran into Tom again and did something he’d regret. If the guy, or any one else, made more lewd comments, Scott didn’t know if he could hold the reins on his temper. When he noticed his path had taken him into the area of Molly’s cubicle, he wondered again about his sanity. He’d intended to avoid her entirely, unless business forced them together. I’ll just walk by, he told himself. And he did. Was it his fault he had the hearing and peripheral scope of an owl? Both senses had him frozen two steps past the opening and listening to the hushed conversation going on inside. “I don’t want your compliments, Boyce.” Molly spoke in an angry whisper. “Who are you kidding? Women crave compliments. I just can’t understand why you’ve been hiding that luscious body all this time. I never would have fought you so hard on the Nibbles Cat Food ad, if you’d have been dressed like you are today.” Scott backed into the empty cubicle next door and set his coffee on the metal desk. He was going to need his hands free in order to pull Boyce’s intestines out through his nostrils. As he retraced his steps, he heard Molly again. “I don’t appreciate your advances, and I want you to leave.” Yeah, like that’s gonna work. A guy like Boyce was stupid enough to think she was playing hard to get.

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As the thought registered, Scott felt like he’d been pole-axed. Last night, he’d told Molly that all she had to do was tell a guy to back off. Well, she had. She’d told Boyce, in no uncertain terms, to get lost. But even Scott knew the man wouldn’t take her seriously. He didn’t need to see Boyce backing Molly up against her file cabinet to know he was the kind of jerk who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Scott stepped into the opening of her cubicle, but both occupants were so focused on each other neither one noticed. An odd sense of déjà vu flickered through him. Molly was in this place almost every day, and yet she’d never appeared this way. Her long hair hung in a riot of curls over her shoulders and down her back. Her cream-colored knit dress clung to the curves of her breasts and hips. Gone were the clunky man-shoes. Instead, her cherry-painted toenails peeked out from strappy, high-heeled sandals. Hose and a discreet hemline made the outfit suitable office attire, but Scott understood why Tom had been so animated in his gossipspreading. Any man would think she was knockout. But that didn’t mean she should be harassed. Scott decided Boyce was due for a bloody beating and would have initiated it, had Molly not taken a ramrod-straight stance and raised her voice above her previously discreet volume. “Boyce, what you are doing is considered sexual harassment. If you don’t leave my work space right now, I’ll file a complaint.” Her gaze was direct and cold. Scott knew how much courage it had taken for her to give up her disguise, let alone deal with this asshole. “Now, Molly, don’t be like that.” Her threat had halted the man’s physical advance, but he gave no hint of leaving. “I think you and I just need get to know each other a little better. You know, improve relations.” The suggestive lilt in Boyce’s voice had fire surging through Scott’s veins. I’m going to kill him. “What a wonderful idea, Boyce.” Sharon Baldwin placed her hand on Scott’s shoulder and came around to stand at his side.

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He hadn’t heard her approach and, from the look in her eyes, it was obvious she, too, knew what Boyce had really been suggesting. “As a matter of fact, a little community-building would be good for the entire staff. Boyce, I think you’re just the person to head up planning the autumn picnic.” The boss’s hand on Scott’s shoulder, paired with the knowledge that Boyce had just been assigned the task from hell, kept Scott from planting his fist in the man’s stunned face. “Uh, Sharon,” Boyce stuttered. “I was just talking to Molly about team-building.” “I thought so.” Sharon’s tone made it clear she didn’t believe a word of his crap. The guy was doomed. “Let’s go back to my office, and I’ll give you a few suggestions I have for the picnic.” She backed up and motioned for Boyce to precede her. Dead man walking. “Molly, Scott.” Sharon nodded to each of them as she followed Boyce out. Which left them alone. Staring at each other. Barely breathing. “Get out.” Anger reignited in Molly’s smoky gray gaze. “What the?” Scott took a step toward her but Molly’s arm swung up, her index finger pointing in the direction of the exit. “I didn’t invite you into my work space. Get out now.” “Now wait a minute. I just wanted to—” “Fine. Stay. I’ll leave.” She grabbed her purse off the floor and stormed past him.

***

“Who is it?” Molly called through her front door. She was pretty sure Sharon had taken measures to ensure Boyce wouldn’t bother her, and if it was Scott, she wasn’t interested in any more of his insults. His parting words last night could still bring tears to her eyes. “Delivery from Justine’s Flowers.” The voice was female so Molly put down her graphite, grabbed a baby wipe and headed toward the door. When she opened it, a

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beautiful bouquet of gerbera daisies, roses and freesia captured her attention. She signed the designated spot on the delivery girl’s clipboard and was about to take the vase in hand from her helper when her common sense kicked in. Helper? As the girl grinned at Molly and took off down the stairs, Scott’s face peeked out from behind the flowers. Molly stepped back in order to close the door but, even with his hands full, Scott was too quick for her. He thrust a leg in the doorway and she didn’t have the heart to slam it on his knee. “Do you remember how you tricked me into hearing you out?” He slowly maneuvered his upper torso into the opening, trying not to topple the arrangement in the process. Molly knew exactly what he was talking about, and angrily could see that she owed him at least the same. Probably more, but she wasn’t about to admit it. She held the door partially closed, with Scott half-in and half-out of the apartment. “All right, I’m listening.” Molly bit back a smile at his struggle to get inside and not drop what was probably a ninety-dollar arrangement. “Come on, Molly. Let me in.” His repentant gaze made her breath catch. Was it possible he’d been as miserable as she had? She pulled the door open and backed away, granting him access. Scott crossed the room and set the vase on the dining table. He was still dressed in his business casual attire, but his blonde hair was mussed and there were dark circles under his eyes. Had he too been unable to sleep? The tiniest spark of hope came to life in her heart, like the first tip of a crocus peeping through the late winter snow.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Molly was beautiful. Molly, not Mary. Molly, his friend, his confidant, his you-can-have-the-rest-of-my-fries lunch buddy. “Well?” Her gaze was direct but lacked the intense hatred he’d seen in it earlier that afternoon.

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Scott searched for the appropriate words as he came back and stood before her. She wadded the used baby wipe in her left hand and twirled her ring with her right thumb. That silly ring, or rather her habit of spinning it whether it was on her finger or not, should have been the biggest giveaway in her dual identities. He reached for Molly’s hands, taking the wipe from her and shoving it into his pocket. She didn’t meet his gaze, but neither did she pull away. “I’m sorry.” He let his regret and apology flow through their physical connection. “If Sharon hadn’t shown up when she did, Boyce would be in the hospital right now.” Molly’s only reply was a wet sniffle. He lifted her hands to rest on his heart and she raised her eyes. Unshed tears glistened there. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously last night when you told me about what happened at your last job. It shouldn’t have taken Boyce backing you into a corner to get me to believe that some men won’t take no for an answer.” “You’re right, it shouldn’t have.” Ouch. Was his apology too late? Before he could think of a retort, she continued, “But for the record, I wasn’t backed into a corner. I was prepared to knee him in the groin if he took one more step.” Her defensive expression betrayed a hint of a smile. “That’s my girl.” He released one hand to chuck her lightly under the chin. Her smile faded. What did I do now? “Am I?” It was an expression he’d used many times with his friend, Molly, but Scott suddenly realized that in this case, the meaning should be literal. That is, if she agreed. But why would she want to be with him? He’d avoided her most of the day, and last night he’d left her with no hope of ever being forgiven. Why should he expect better treatment? It was time to ante up. “If you can forgive me for the terrible things I said.” He held his breath. “But have you forgiven me?” She was thinking about his stepmother and doubted his

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willingness to forgive. The hours since last night had been tortuous. Losing his best friend…the one person he looked forward to spending time with. Losing a lover who fulfilled his every desire. Wondering what she felt and what would happen to her, and yet trying to fool himself into thinking he didn’t really care. Realizing he’d lost the only person he could ever see himself devoted to. “Yes, but I’m ashamed to say it took me until a few hours ago to admit it to myself. I think, deep down, I forgave you the minute I walked out your door. I was just so angry. I needed time to cool off.” Scott didn’t want to add that seeing Boyce’s harassment firsthand had been the kick in the ass he needed to get over his poor-me-I’ve-beenwronged attitude. “So, you understand why I created Mary?” Scott heard it in her voice, in the little lift at the end of the question. He grabbed onto that tiny bit of hope, determined to hold on tight. “I do now. With your history, I understand your fear. Case in point, there was Boyce, thinking he could charm you even after you told him to get out. And what else would he have done if he’d learned you work with nude models? Someone like that equates nudity with casual sex.” Molly relaxed her hands in his, and he could feel some of her tension dissipating. “I’m so glad you understand. And I’m sorry I doubted whether you’d be discreet…about my art and about me.” Now it was Scott’s turn to feel relief, and it almost made him laugh. Were they beginning one of those I’m sorry, No I’m the one who should be sorry discussions? “But your hesitancy was well-founded. I know now why you dressed as you did, and why you made up Mary. That’s all that matters.” He kissed her knuckles. “Now, can you forgive me for the cruel things I said?” “Yes. You’re not the only person to lash out when they’re hurting.” And without another word, he understood she was talking about how she’d spoken to him earlier. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you about how serious the problem of sexual

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harassment can be. If it wasn’t for me daring you to come out of the closet, so to speak, that situation with Boyce wouldn’t have happened today.” “True,” Molly said. Then a smile bloomed across her face and, without those awful glasses, her gray eyes sparkled like diamonds. It was the most beautiful thing Scott had ever seen. “But I owe you my thanks.” “How do you figure?” Would this woman ever stop surprising him? “I never would have done it on my own. You forced me to be true to myself. Do you know how hard it has been, keeping parts of myself secret from everyone?” She released his hands and took a step back, arms down and palms up. “I like the way I look. And I like not having to weigh whether something’s safe to say. Whether I’m divulging too much about myself.” Her joy added a new radiance to her face. “My name is Molly Birchfield.” She slowly turned as if introducing herself to a room full of strangers. “I’m a commercial artist, but I also enjoy drawing portraits. And, sometimes, the people I draw are nude. But that doesn’t make me a sleaze.” Scott could picture Molly speaking right into Boyce’s flushed face, enunciating each word. He grinned. “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I enjoy sex. But I’m extremely particular. I don’t sleep around. As a matter of fact, there’s only one man I want to share my bed with.” Feeling happier than he could ever remember, Scott played along. “Oh? And who’s the lucky guy?” “Sorry to disappoint you. But that would be my current model. He’s got quite a bod.” Molly waggled her eyebrows. “He’s also a wonderful lover.” “Does this guy know how damned lucky he is?” The inches between them dissolved and Scott slid his hands down her hips and squeezed. He loved these skin-tight pants that she wore during leisure time. “I’m not sure.” Molly walked her fingers over his shirtfront. He wondered if she could feel the way his heart threatened to pound its way out of

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his chest. “Maybe I should ask him sometime.” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness. “How about right now?” He pulled her snugly against him, wanting her to feel the evidence of his arousal. “Okay. Do you know how damned lucky you are?” Teasing, she rocked against his groin. “I’m the luckiest man alive. I want you in my bed. But more than that, Molly, I want you in my life. As my lover, but also as my best friend. I need both from you. Forever.” Scott lowered his head and kissed her. Molly responded without hesitation, eagerly entwining her tongue with his. He slid his fingers through her long, luxurious curls, fisting his hands at the bottom and holding on as if he’d never release her. When they came up for air, both were breathless and panting. “Let me make love to you.” Scott nibbled on her neck below her ear. She sighed with satisfaction. “Yes.” With a squeal from Molly, Scott swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. There, he set her on her feet and whipped the comforter down to the bottom of the bed. Then he focused his attention, and his hands, on her, squeezing her bottom. “I’m curious. Are these things really considered pants?” She smiled and pressed her tummy against his engorged sex. “Yes, they’re yoga pants. I wear them to exercise in, or when I’m drawing or hanging around the apartment.” Scott nuzzled under her hair to her neck. “Even though you’re out of the closet, you’re not planning on going out in public in them, are you?” He loved them on her, but didn’t relish the idea of other men enjoying the same view. “No, these are strictly for your eyes only.” She leaned her head back, exposing the front of her neck for his exploration. “Or an occasional aerobics class.” “Glad to hear it. But for right now, they’ve gotta go.” He hooked his thumbs under the waist and swept the soft knit fabric down past her hips, thighs and knees. Already

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barefoot, it was easy for her to kick away the small puddle of cloth. She crossed her arms in front of her and whipped her tee shirt over her head. Standing in front of him, clad only in a pair of white lace thong panties, Molly was his every fantasy come true. “Now it’s your turn.” She started unbuttoning his shirt, so Scott went to work on his belt and trousers. In a matter of seconds he was naked and she shaped herself against his body. Their uninhibited and frenzied kisses slowly calmed. At first their hands were everywhere, frantically exploring each others bodies. But as Scott realized he was in no hurry for this evening to end, he forced a more moderate pace. With every stroke, he committed to memory the slopes and hollows of her body. And Molly did the same to him, stoking the fires of his arousal with her fingertips. When he tried to slide her thong down, she trapped his hands under hers. “Not yet.” Her sensuous tone let him know she wasn’t having second thoughts. Scott let her maneuver his hands to his sides and his pulse surged as she dropped to her knees. His brain blipped and then went blank as Molly took him in hand and slid her fist to his root, cupping his balls with her other hand. He closed his eyes and let her touch fill his consciousness. Her warm breath on his penis, her soft kisses on the head, the wet stroke of her tongue along his shaft. Then she spoke, her words making him swell even more. “You’re so big, and so hard.” Scott’s legs quivered and he locked his muscles to keep from collapsing. She alternated between loving him with her mouth and hands, driving him to the edge of madness. “Stop.” He didn’t want to climax all alone. Not this time. His first time with Molly. With a gargantuan effort, he pulled away and lifted her. Once on her feet, he pressed her onto the bed with his body. “Now it’s you turn.” He lay partially on top of her and laved one of her budding

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nipples. Then he sucked her dimpled areola into his mouth. “Ohmigod.” Her fingers raked through his hair and she held his head to her breast. Scott suckled her and imagined he could taste the sweet richness of her vanilla scented skin. Molly squirmed. “That feels so good.” No doubt, she was turned on. And no aphrodisiac on earth could be more effective than her passionate exaltation. He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer before having her. “I’m going to give you all night to stop that.” Her one-liner made him chuckle as he turned his attention to her other breast. He sucked, at the same time stroking the tip with his tongue. “Oh, Scott.” Her legs shifted again and he interpreted her agitation as a very good sign. “I want you inside me.” Molly’s urgent cry was half-plea, half-demand and all the invitation he needed. Scott snagged the square package he’d tossed onto the nightstand as he’d undressed and covered himself. Within seconds he pushed his way deep inside her. “Yes.” Her exclamation echoed his thoughts. The second thrust buried him to the hilt. Molly’s moan caused him a moment of concern and he froze. “Am I hurting you?” “Yes. No. In a good way. Don’t stop.” She lifted her hips and dug her fingers into his ass, urging him back into action. Scott slid into her again, hesitantly at first. But the expression of bliss on Molly’s face and the sounds of her approval spurred him on to what became a driving rhythm. He was so close. “Yes, yes, yes.” Her body stiffened as she climaxed and, with one final thrust, Scott accompanied her. Joined in the most elemental way and locked in each others arms, he knew they shared every sensation of ecstasy. Later, they quietly lay entwined. Scott would be happy to stay that way all night

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long, which was a first. He’d never considered it. Not even with sexy Mary. “That was awesome.” Molly turned her head enough to kiss his shoulder. Then she met his gaze. “It’s not going to freak you out if I talk now, will it?” She smiled and he chuckled in response. “No. As a matter of fact, that’s one of the things I love about you, Molly.” He met her halfway for a chaste kiss. “Well then, will you marry me?” Surprised, he pulled back slightly and met her twinkling gaze. “Mary might have been too timid to ask, but Molly isn’t.” Like I was saying… “I love you, Molly.” He’d never said the words to anyone, and he was surprised how easily they flowed from his lips. “I love you, too. So, is that a ‘yes’?” Could this woman possibly make me any happier? “On one condition.” “It’s not about my drawing in the nude, is it? All I’d be thinking about is making love with you.” Scott buried his fists in her long tresses and pulled her lips to his for a hot, demanding kiss. “No,” he said a moment later as they came up for air. “This one’s easy. Never put your hair up in that bun again, unless you’re in the mood to play horny librarian.” Molly waggled her eyebrows and gave him a smile that said he’d planted a seed. “Deal.”

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About the Author

Janie is married to her own romance hero, David. They live in central Ohio with their two teenaged children and loveable mutt. To learn more about Janie Mason and see photos of her author friends’ own Happily Ever Afters, please visit her website, http://www.janiemason.com/.

Look for these titles by Janie Mason

Now Available: Servicing Rafferty

One night. One set of handcuffs. Can lovers remain friends?

Servicing Rafferty © 2008 Janie Mason Auto mechanic Heidi Callihan is tired of her boss treating her like one of his younger sisters. After seven years working for Rafe, what began as hero worship has grown into love—not that he’d notice. When an attractive young widow throws herself at him, Heidi’s had enough. It’s time to put herself in the driver’s seat. Rafe only recently came to think of Heidi as more than his “Little Buddy,” but he’s determined to mask his growing attraction to her. At nine years her senior, he’s certain they’re not right for each other. He was forced to become the head of his family at a young age, and he’s determined not to let her miss out on all the fun of being a young adult. But Heidi’s about to teach him the definition of determination—and she’s armed with a set of handcuffs. One turbo-charged night later, Rafe is left with a decision: Lose her friendship…or lose her love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Servicing Rafferty: Time to move on to Plan B. She took a long drink from her wineglass, summoning both her courage and a much needed poker face. “Well, since you’re not hungry,” she said, setting down her glass, “and you have nothing better to do, you might as well help me out with something.” Still no response. No problem, Heidi tried to reassure herself. She’d get his attention. She moved his wineglass from the steamer trunk to the floor where he could reach it, all the while careful to position herself out of his reach. “You just sit there and relax. When you’re done pouting, help yourself to pizza.” Heidi lifted her glass, finished her wine in one gulp and then crossed to her bedroom door. Going inside, she left the door open. Rafe couldn’t see her from where he sat along the front wall.

“I need some help deciding which outfit to wear to Gigi’s brother’s wedding,” she called. In truth, she’d planned on wearing the same blue dress she always wore to such occasions, but Plan B involved borrowing a few outfits from her free-spirited friend. Already barefoot, Heidi stepped out of her fatigues, pulled her shirt over her head and stood before the clothes-covered bed in her pale pink bikini panties and matching bra. “I’m not sure which dress I like better,” she said, slipping into Gigi’s crepe black sheath. She pulled up the zipper and stepped into a pair of black strappy heels. The classic black dress had seemed out of place in Gigi’s closet, but Heidi understood its presence once she saw how it conformed to every bump and curve like a coat of onyx paint. Something a high-priced callgirl might wear to a funeral parlor. Heidi glanced at herself in the mirror. She’d never been into wearing feminine clothes, but tonight she liked the sexy way the dress made her feel. She wanted Rafe to like it, too. She had even put on a little makeup before he arrived. Heidi wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her before today—maybe if she dressed more like a woman, he might see her as one. Ninety-nine percent of the time, Rafe saw her in dirty coveralls and steel-toed boots. How sexy was that? “Well, Rafe’s about to see a whole lot more of me,” she whispered to her reflection. She’d managed to scrub her nails clean, although they were still short and masculinelooking. Oh well, some things couldn’t be helped. Mechanics and manicures just didn’t go together. Heidi applied a quick layer of gloss to her lips, scrunched her short curls for good measure and took a deep breath to try and calm the nervous jitters. “Action,” she whispered and headed out into the hallway toward the most important performance of her life.

“What do you think?” Heidi asked, taking the three small steps to reach the edge of the living room. Rafe didn’t move or even lift an eyelash. Ah, so he thought he could refuse to play the game. Not this time. She had gone too far out on a limb for this to go anywhere but forward. Heidi crossed to stand in front of him, just out of reach.

“Rafe, is this what you want?” He opened his eyes as she reached inside the scooped neck of her dress and pulled a tiny silver key out of her bra. Rafe’s eyes darkened with the intensity of a tornado. His predatory gaze scrolled down her body, singeing a hot trail in its wake that almost had Heidi melting into a puddle right there on the carpet. If Rafe wasn’t at least a little bit turned on, Heidi gave up the hope of understanding human nature. And if she was right, if it was excitement in those obsidian eyes, she hoped it was out of a desire to get his hands on her, not the key. Heidi slipped it back into the right cup of her bra, the metal cool on her radiating skin. Although Rafe’s pupils followed her smallest movement like a stalking jaguar’s, his steady expression seemed to be carved out of granite. Breathe. Breathe and focus. This won’t work if you turn into jelly just because he stares at you. Heidi turned her head at an angle and fluffed her hair, more in an attempt to break eye contact and gather her wits than any real need to primp. With a deep but silent breath, she found the fortitude to get back into character. “I thought that might get your attention,” she said, pasting a smile on her lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll only keep you locked up for about another hour. Why don’t you just relax? You’ll see how the time will fly by. Besides, I really do need a male opinion.” Heidi prattled on in her best airhead impersonation. “What do you think of this dress?” She did a milder version of a runway model’s walk and turn, stopping at the spot where she’d begun. Rafe sat stone silent, frowning. “You don’t like it,” she said as a statement, hoping the opposite was true. “That’s okay. I wasn’t sure about it either. I’ll try on another one.” She returned to the bedroom, adding an extra sway to her hips as she walked in the form-fitting dress. The digital clock on her nightstand read seven thirty-three. Heidi breathed a small sigh of relief. Barbara might already be on the prowl for a stand-in bed partner. “You’re probably right, Rafe, it’s not me,” Heidi called out, a satisfied smile on her face. “A simple black dress is so conservative, and we both know I don’t come from a conservative family.”

A drunk for a father and a mother who deserts her husband and seven-year-old daughter—not exactly Carol and Mike Brady. Although, Heidi admitted to herself, there were more similarities between her and any of the Brady boys than the girls. Which is why it was good that her best friend was a clotheshorse and wore the same size, otherwise Plan B would have included modeling her own khaki collection. She tossed the black dress on the bed and pulled a fuchsia knit dress over her head. Much like the black one, the hot-pink tank dress was as formfitting as a sausage casing. Heidi had planned to leave the black heels on but—used to wearing work boots most of the time— her ankles were already plotting a mutiny. She pulled off the sandals and headed to the living room in bare feet. Heidi felt Rafe’s eyes latch on to her the second she stepped out of the bedroom. Not sure how to interpret the dark scowl still on his face, she decided to ignore it. “How about this one? It definitely isn’t conservative.” Refusing to focus on Rafe’s menacing look, Heidi concentrated on her modeling routine. She turned and swayed, paused and posed. That sexy feeling was back, and she was having fun pretending to be an international supermodel at a photo shoot. “You’re not saying anything. You hate this one, too?” Deep into her role-playing, Heidi had been avoiding Rafe’s eyes. Now she saw them focused on the dress, their intensity almost powerful enough to vaporize the fabric right off her skin. Aroused, Heidi’s nipples pebbled through her thin bra, showing Rafe the effect he had on her. His heated gaze melted any embarrassment she might have been feeling. Then Rafe’s eyes shifted to meet hers, and there was no mistaking the desire smoldering there. She felt the electricity pulsing between them. “Heidi, you need to let me go right now.” He didn’t bark the order as he had before. His voice was soft, and yet infused with power. “Why?” she asked, trance-like and dangerously close to complying with any demand he might issue. “If you don’t let me go right now, I might do something we both know would be a mistake.” Heidi took one step toward him, placing herself only inches out of his reach.

“What might you do?” she whispered, so turned on her entire body hummed. More than anything, she longed to hear Rafe say he wanted her. “I might not leave when you unlock me,” he said, causing the pounding of her heart to mimic the throbbing between her legs. She took a tiny step toward Rafe.

A feisty auto mechanic and a hunky chef cook up chaos!

Kitchen Matches © 2008 Marianne Arkins Cori Weathers is a wizard with a torque wrench, but the moment she lays eyes on her cooking teacher, Micah DePalma, her lessons turn into a klutzy symphony of flying poultry and burning aprons. It makes no sense. He couldn’t be less her type: tall, skinny, and born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So why is her heart sputtering like a badly tuned engine? Despite family pressure to date only women of his own social class, something about the cooking-challenged spitfire lights all Micah’s burners. Cori’s a complex dish inside a deceptively simple coating, one he’s willing to risk tackle football and jealous exboyfriends to sample. His every attempt to crack her stubborn heart strikes sparks. Will they ignite the flame of love—or explode into just another kitchen disaster? Warning: This story contains flying poultry, annoying older brothers, the occasional quote from Shakespeare, and enough sexual tension to overheat ovens—and engines.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Kitchen Matches: Corinne Weathers, Cori to her friends and family—but not to her very proper cooking class teacher, Micah DePalma—gave a squeak of fear at the flames creeping up her apron. She slapped at them with her potholder, but it didn’t help. Her throat was so tight with panic, she couldn’t cry out for help. With one last futile whack at the growing fire, and desperately trying to remain calm, Cori reached behind her neck to untie the apron straps. Her trembling fingers fumbled with the bow and pulled it into a good, solid knot. A brief hissing sound was the only warning she got before clouds of whatever white stuff lurked inside a fire extinguisher smacked into her gut like a fist and drifted in a halo around her head. She coughed and waved a hand in the air in an attempt to clear it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A familiar male voice threaded through the cloud. Cori grimaced. Ack. Saved by Micah DePalma, her handsome-but-cranky cooking teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone—anyone—else? She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for something to rescue her from his wrath. She knew a lecture was on its way, knew she deserved one for setting herself on fire, but she really didn’t want to hear it. “Are you okay?” Micah’s low voice rumbled over her, as did one firm hand as he checked for injuries. “No burns?” Cori ignored the warmth of his skin on hers and cracked open one watering eye to look at him. He really seemed genuinely worried. Not angry. How had that happened? She’d done nothing but annoy him since this course had started. “I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She shrugged off his hand. “And no thanks to you,” he replied, tossing the small fire extinguisher back and forth and giving her a lopsided smile only slightly tinged with irritation. Uh oh. Here it came. She scrunched up her face, prepared for the worst. Maybe if she apologized before he yelled, it would help. “I’m sorry.” “I imagine you are.” He set down the small red metal tube and stared at the disaster area that was her stove. “However, I’d say you failed this lesson. You may spend the rest of class cleaning up this mess.” Without a backward glance to make certain Cori obeyed his royal decree, Micah turned and walked away. She took a quick look at the horrified faces of her classmates. Her face burned as hot as the flames had on her apron, but she refused to give in to the tears that threatened. Instead she snatched up a wet rag and rubbed at the spilled oil and other goop on the stovetop. When class was finally over, she put away the cleaning supplies and tossed her dirty rags into the laundry. By the time she’d finished and grabbed her leather jacket, most of the class had already left. She dipped her head and tiptoed toward the door, wanting to sneak out before she did anything else wrong. “Ms. Weathers,” Micah called. Her heart jumped at the sound of her name on his lips. Now what? Cori hated that he

had the ability to both arouse and annoy her, so she opted to grab hold of the annoyance with both hands. She turned and glared, tapping her foot while she waited for him to speak. Too bad he was such a jerk to her, because he really was kind of a hottie, if a bit too slick and tidy. He had “high class” written all over him, in the way he dressed and the way he talked. That was enough to take him right off her list of potential dates, despite the way her body reacted when he got too close. She didn’t have a good history with high-class guys. She remembered the night his mother—a slim, brittle-looking woman—joined them in class. One look at her perfectly manicured fingers and precisely coiffed hair, and Cori felt certain the woman hadn’t cooked a day in her life. She probably had some fancy French chef who lived in her mansion cooking up perfectly balanced and attractive meals for her. Still, Mrs. DePalma made all the right noises over the masterpiece Micah had created, taking the smallest bites Cori had ever seen someone eat. No wonder the woman was so thin she’d disappear if she turned sideways. She oozed class and money, just like her son. So, yeah. Micah was so far off the list it wasn’t funny. “I’m too busy to walk you out,” he said without looking up from the papers in front of him. “Please let Jimmy do so.” She rolled her eyes at his suggestion. Sure it was late. Sure it was dark. And, yeah, the parking lot was pretty well deserted. Despite all that, she could take care of herself. She’d been doing so ever since she turned sixteen and began to work nights at the garage. She had to admit, though, she really didn’t mind letting Micah walk her to her car. It was a strange sensation, being looked after and she thought it rather nice to have him nearby. For safety, she hedged. She also didn’t stop herself from thinking that, maybe one day, he might try to kiss her goodnight. Her heart pounded just a little harder at the thought. Gah. She had a crush on her teacher. She gave a small shake of her head, disgusted. She was a cliché.

’Tis the season to get deadly…

Still Waters © 2008 Kate Johnson It’s a week before Christmas. Sophie is out of work, out of love and out of her depth—literally. Stuck in Cornwall on the holiday from hell with her ex-boyfriend, her boyfriend’s ex, and two intimidating colleagues. If that’s not enough, Sophie’s got her hands full trying to prevent her best friend’s perfect engagement from blowing up in her face. When a corpse turns up in the local harbor it’s the perfect distraction…at least until someone tries to add Sophie to the body count. Tangled love, tangled lives, tangled clues. Now there’s a holiday menu Sophie can’t resist. Warning: This title contains bad language, bad behavior and bad puns. There are scenes of violence, gore, and unashamed sentimentality.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Still Waters: Here’s a piece of advice, direct from me to you: it’s never a good idea to go on holiday with your ex. Especially if you’re behind the wheel, or you have a habit of getting lost easily. Or he’s navigating. Or all of the above. The roads were hardly wide enough for a bicycle and so steep the accelerator was getting decidedly jealous of all the attention my foot was paying to the brake. The village seemed to be spelled differently on every sign we came across, and we frequently took the wrong turn because “Turn right towards Polzeath” can mean a lot of things when there are a million right turns on the road. All signposted Pol-bloody-zeath. Eventually I snapped and stopped the car, ramming the handbrake on so my right foot could have a bit of rest. “That’s it.” I turned to the back of the car. “Maria, will you navigate for me?” “Maria?” Luke said in tones of disgust. “She’s a girl.”

“I’d quite forgotten.” Maria was already heading to the back door. “If it’s good enough for the SBS…” Luke was immovable. “Look, if you’d just do what I tell you—” “Since when did she ever do that?” asked the fourth occupant of the car, a big black man called Macbeth. He was covered in dog hairs from Norma Jean, the beautiful but incredibly stupid dog I’d been saddled with for the week. Norma’s father had been a retriever and her mother, apparently, a ball of cotton wool. She tended to leave a film of blonde hair over everyone and everything she went near. Maria was at the passenger door now and she’d opened it. She tapped her foot on the road and arched a perfect eyebrow at Luke. If I didn’t like her so much, I’d really hate her. She’s stunning to look at—all toned curves and glossy dark hair and big brown eyes and perfect clear skin. Cow. But she is so nice. And she’s a good navigator. And Luke, for want of a better expression, was getting right on my tits. Not that he’d been near them for months. Maybe that was the problem. “Look,” Maria said, “either you get in the back or you stand in the road and make your own way there.” “Or home,” I added helpfully. “Whose bloody idea was this sodding holiday anyway?” Luke fumed. “Do you want to be a part of the SO17 team or not?” Maria asked perkily. “Sometimes I wonder,” Luke replied, his tone dark. I said nothing. Luke glared at me and, with a final mutter of “for God’s sake,” he stomped out of the car and round to the back, slamming the door shut behind him. “Why’d we bring your stupid car anyway?” he asked bad-temperedly, glaring round the interior. I patted the steering wheel of my Land Rover Defender to comfort him. “It’s okay, Ted. Ignore him.” In the back, Norma Jean made a muffled noise somewhere between a bark and a howl.

“You tell him, Norma.”

Port Trevan was one of those little Cornish villages that would be impossible to modernise completely. Ted, my lovely, battered old friend, could hardly get down some of the streets, which were narrow and so steep I really thought we’d just plunge straight into the sea if the brakes failed. Which they never would. Ted might look like he’s in bad shape, but that’s just surface scarring. He’s a trooper. “It’s down here.” Maria pointed, looking almost as excited as Norma Jean, who was jumping around in the back of the car while Luke and Macbeth tried to hold onto her. “How does she know?” Maria asked, twisting round to look at Norma Jean, all fluffy and blonde and heartbreakingly pretty. “Instinct. She always knows when we’re getting to the end of a journey.” “One of those animal things,” Macbeth said, catching Norma’s collar and trying to get her to lie down, or at least sit. “Bitches always know.” “So how far are we, Sophie?” Luke asked, and if the road hadn’t been so tricky, I’d have reached back and hit him. Eventually we found the cottage, hiding away on a little alleyway that was, according to the sign, Rose Street. “That’s a street?” I said in disbelief, staring at the gap between two buildings that were about six feet apart. “Narrowest in Britain,” Maria said with some pride. “The locals call it Squeeze-eebelly Alley.” “No kidding.” I parked the car at the entrance to the alley, and we unloaded as quickly as possible so I could remove Ted to the harbour just down the road, where he would be less of an obstruction. When I came back and walked in through the stable door, I found a little hallway with a bedroom off to one side, and stairs leading straight up. I followed the stairs past a pretty, white bathroom to a large living room with a small, open kitchen. Maria was there, opening cupboards, checking the fridge.

“You’re downstairs,” she said. “Don’t I get a choice?” “Well, no.” She stood up and smiled. “Because it’s my aunt’s house I get first choice, right?” “Right,” I said, “but there are—” And then I realised, and I smiled too. There were two doubles, one of which Maria had obviously earmarked for her own. The other held twin beds. And since I wasn’t likely to share with either Macbeth or Luke, and they wouldn’t sleep in the double, that meant they got the singles. And I got the double. “Excellent,” I said. “I put your case in there. Where should we put the dog basket?” “Kitchen. She hates being out on her own.” Norma Jean was scrambling up the steep stairs that led off from the living room, and I followed her. Up here were the other two rooms: Maria’s large, pretty double and the boys’ twin, which already looked crowded and it only held Macbeth. “Floral duvets, huh?” I said. “You don’t want to swap?” I shook my head rapidly. “Can you honestly say you think it’s a good idea for me and Luke to share a room?” He looked me straight in the eye. “Yes,” he said, “and you know it.”

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