Tempted by the Wrong Twin Read online

  “So now I’m wondering something,” she said, looking up at the clouds.

  “It just so happens that delicious food and good company make me feel like sharing, too.”

  “This place.” She waved an arm around to encompass their surroundings. “Tell me how you found it.”

  Ah. He shouldn’t have been surprised she’d circled back around to the topic. After all, she was a lawyer. He braced himself and exposed a guarded part of his heart. “My dad brought me here. He said it was our place.”

  She rolled to her side, her cheek resting on a palm. “Not Malcolm, too?”

  “Our parents were always careful to let us do things together when we wanted, but to let us have our own experiences, too.”

  “That’s a good tip for a mother-to-be of twins,” she said. “Why did he choose this spot for you and not Malcolm?”

  Good question. In some ways it was such an obvious thing, but how to explain it?

  “Malcolm was always more...social than me. He and our mother are two of a kind. Dad and I, on the other hand—” he glanced around at this place that had always been theirs “—well, we always craved a bit of space. Quiet space.”

  She was silent for long moments, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle. “How long ago did he pass away?”

  “Nine years.” Though it didn’t feel that long at all—occasionally Nick even forgot he was gone. “It was his heart. He’d had problems before, and he was on a transplant waiting list, but it gave out before they found one.”

  “Oh, Nick.” She scooted closer and leaned into him. “I’m so sorry.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and allowed himself the luxury of absorbing the nearness of her and her unquestioning support when he needed it. “In some ways we were lucky. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t make it, so he had time to say his goodbyes. Not everyone gets that.”

  There had been lots of family chatting, teasing and laughing—just as his father had wanted. And there had also been time for his father to have deep, one-on-one talks with each of them.

  One time when they’d been alone, Nick’s dad had gripped his hand and told him—not for the first time—that he was the strong one, and he’d have to look after his mother and Malcolm. It had made a deep impression on his soul, and he’d done his best ever since. When things were hard, he often thought of his father’s face as he’d said those words and it was enough to keep him going, keep him moving forward.

  One thing he was glad about was that his father had seen him in uniform before he died. Swiping away tears, his father had told him how proud he was, and it had been one of the best days of Nick’s entire life. He’d tried to be the man his father had expected him to be, which was one of the reasons he’d found struggling with his PTSD so hard. A strong man—the man his father had wanted him to be—would have handled it, right?

  He glanced over at Harper—an intelligent, brave woman, who had barely blinked when he’d told her about his PTSD, and had even gone out of her way to research strategies to help. Just the thought of what she’d done for him made his chest ache in a way it never had before. An ache just for her. He reached for her hand, gripping it tight, and, as she smiled at him, a sliver of optimism shone through the dark parts of his mind. If she didn’t think he was a lost cause, then maybe, just maybe, there was hope for him still.

  Nine

  It was just past midnight, and Nick was sitting out by the pool, watching the moon, Frank snoring by his feet.

  He hadn’t been able to sleep, so earlier he’d sat up in bed with Frank across his lap and begun, hesitantly, to tell his dog some of the less painful stories from his time in the military. It had been strange at first, but he’d read some articles online about talking through upsetting memories with a dog. As Frank had lain attentively, with no judgment in his gaze, it had slowly become easier. He’d talked for maybe an hour, and his shoulders felt a fraction lighter at the end. Sleep had still evaded him, though, so he’d come out here to watch the shimmering water in the pool and breathe the cool air. Frank—with his job done—had decided to catch a nap.

  Movement at the sliding glass doors caught his eye, and he turned to find Harper in a long nightdress coming over to him. Bathed in the pale blue moonlight, she seemed ethereal, and the gentle night breeze draped the fabric against her body, revealing the growing roundness of her belly. The sheer perfection of her stole his breath. She was a goddess—so much more than he would ever deserve.

  “Did I wake you?” he asked when she reached him. Uncertain if she was a light sleeper or not, he’d tried to be quiet when he’d been near her room.

  She shook her head and grimaced. “Leg cramps. I was hoping walking might ease them.”

  He was instantly more alert. Cramps were no laughing matter—experience from both training and missions had taught him that. “Has the walking helped?”

  “Not so much.” She rocked from her heels to her toes and back again.

  He cast an assessing glance over her. “Is it just your legs?”

  “Well,” she said, drawing out the word as if not really wanting to admit more, “my back is aching.”

  He pushed to his feet. In some respects he might have been a poor choice as a husband, but this was one thing he could do something about.

  He slipped an arm around her waist. “Come on, I have a couple of ideas.”

  As they started walking, she leaned in to him and whispered, “Thank you.”

  “I haven’t done anything yet.”

  “You have,” she said and looked up at him, her sweet brown eyes filled with emotion. “You’re here and you’re willing to help. You have my back. They’re things I really appreciate.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said around a lump in his throat. To have a woman as strong as Harper Lake say that to him...it meant a lot.

  They reached her bedroom door, and he released her. “You go curl up in bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Once in the kitchen, he quickly made up a hot water bottle. When he returned, he found her already in the bed. He tucked the hot water bottle against her back, then sat on the side of the bed, feet on the floor. “Here, give me the leg that’s worst.”

  She lifted her right leg to lie across his lap, and he went to work, gently at first, looking for any knots and tightness, then easing it with rhythmic hand movements.

  “The pregnancy books said I might get cramps, so I shouldn’t be surprised.” She offered a half smile that made him wish he could scoop her up, hold her tight and protect her against anything that might hurt her.

  Instead, he kept massaging her leg and said, “What else do the books say we should be looking out for?”

  “So many things,” she said, watching his hand sliding along her calves. “Those books are quite scary, to be honest.”

  He’d been home between tours when Ellie was a baby, but he’d been away for a big chunk of Melissa’s pregnancy. He was only realizing now what he’d missed and was determined not to let any details pass by this time. “Okay, so we’ll ignore the books for the moment. Tell me what it’s like for you.”

  As he rubbed the muscle, up and down, gently digging his knuckles in, she opened up about the little things she hadn’t shared before now. At one time he might have thought he was tough as nails, that war had hardened him, but listening to Harper describe the miracle of pregnancy, the ways her body was changing as it grew his babies, he could practically feel his heart melt into a puddle.

  They changed positions so he could do her other leg, and he asked more questions, drawing out her own feelings of wonder about the experience.

  “You can probably stop now,” she said with a soft smile.

  Her eyes were drooping, so he ran his hands one last time over her calf, as much for himself as for her, then pulled the sheet up over her sh
oulders.

  “Sleep well,” he said and reverently kissed her forehead. Reluctantly, he steeled himself to walk away and leave her until morning.

  “Nick?”

  He didn’t dare look back at her, knowing his willpower was already stretched thin. “Yeah?”

  “Stay with me.” She lifted the sheet as invitation. “Just for tonight, stay and hold me.”

  His stomach rolled and sank. He’d been the one to propose marriage, and he’d been the one to suggest their new dating arrangement. No question, he’d been the one pushing their relationship forward. And now Harper was finally asking for something, wanting more...and it was something he couldn’t give.

  “Harper, I’d do it if I could, but you know I can’t.”

  She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, her gaze watchful, uncertain. “Is this just about your nightmares?”

  She thought that he didn’t want to be in her bed? That he didn’t dream of waking wrapped around her warm body? “I promise, nothing else could keep me away from you.”

  “I don’t care about them.” She wriggled up to a sitting position against the headboard.

  God, the temptation of the idea. Of her.

  “Sleep is essential when you’re pregnant.” He said it like it was a mantra.

  “It’s just for tonight.” She glanced at her bedside clock. “Or what’s left of it. I’ll sleep better if you hold me.”

  In asking for this, he knew she was going out on a limb. She’d been so cautious about taking their relationship too far or too fast up until now. And this was the thing she chose to ask of him. The one thing he couldn’t grant her.

  His chest ached from having to deny her, but he had no choice. “Harper, I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  He’d have given anything in that moment to climb into that bed and lie with her all night. If he ever healed from this damn illness and was able to spend his nights wrapped around her, he’d never take it for granted. Not even once.

  “Harper, I’m so damn sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, but there was hurt in her eyes. Hurt he’d put there with what was, in effect, another little abandonment, and that pierced something deep in his chest. He squeezed his eyes against its power, brushed a kiss over her forehead and walked away before he could change his mind.

  * * *

  Nick sat on the end of Harper’s bed, looking at the paint swatches she’d taped to her wall. They’d spent the evening measuring the nursery for furniture, and thinking about colors and decor.

  “I’m not sure I can look at another yellow swatch. I might have reached my limit of yellow.”

  “Not a problem,” she said, her voice holding a note of teasing. “This one isn’t yellow. It’s lemon sorbet.”

  He groaned, then chuckled and fell backward to lie across the width of her bed. “Just come and sit for a few minutes and give me a break.”

  “Would you rather look at the seven swatches of various whites for the trims?” she said, but she came over anyway and lay down beside him.

  As he stared up at the ceiling, he felt her hand sneak into his, and he squeezed it tight. And though he never would have predicted it a few months ago, there was nowhere he’d rather be than lying side by side with this woman, talking about setting up the nursery and holding hands. It was scary how much he simply wanted to be near her.

  “How do you think us dating is working out?” he asked mildly.

  Two days ago he’d thought he might have blown it by not staying the night when she’d invited him. Thankfully, she’d been fine the next morning, acting as if nothing had happened, and he’d been beyond relieved. They’d gone out to a movie and dinner last night and talked the whole way home about the movie’s plot, so he hoped they were back on solid ground again. But Harper was sometimes hard to read, and he knew he had to check in with her.

  “I think we’re doing fine,” she said.

  He rolled his head to the side so he could see her. “You seriously mean that?”

  “So much.” She leaned in to him and brushed her lips over his. His eyes drifted closed to savor the feeling. Harper had been so adamant about not adding intimacy into their arrangement that he wouldn’t push. But then her lips brushed past his again, and he kissed her back.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d come so close to not having this woman in his life. If he’d gone in to the Tate Armor office at any time in the past two years that Harper had worked there, he would have met her. Instead, they’d met at a masked ball where he hadn’t known who she was and she’d thought he was his twin brother.

  That very first time he’d laid eyes on her, every thought in his mind had fled. All he could see, all he could register, was her. She’d worn a gold mask that she held in front of her face by a long stick that served as a handle. She’d lowered it for maybe a minute while she ate a canapé. No one else was watching, but Nick was. She wasn’t just beautiful; there had been something else that called to him. Something he couldn’t name but that was soul-deep and unable to be denied.

  And she’d been watching him. The realization at the time had damn near stalled his heart.

  “Do you remember when we met?” he asked, running a lazy hand up and down her arm.

  She snuggled closer into him. “I’ll never forget that moment.”

  He wanted to believe it but refused to let fantasy get tangled up with their real story—not when their real story was already enough—so he had to call her on it. “You thought I was Malcolm.”

  “My mind thought you were Malcolm. But the rest of me thought you were...”

  “Yes?” he whispered in her ear, then sucked the lobe into his mouth.

  “Mine,” she said on a sigh.

  She reached up to cup the side of his face, the motion making her top ride up. His fingers found the exposed stretch of skin along her side, across her stomach.

  His eyes drifted closed again. He was lost in the feel of her under his hands now and the memory of her then. “You were wearing a glittering gold mask at first.”

  “And you had a black mask that covered half your face,” she said, her breath coming a little faster and her hands slipping under his shirt.

  He had a brief thought about their agreement not to bring lovemaking into their marriage, but surely they were past that by now? And Harper didn’t seem to be slowing down. They’d agreed that their dating would be a trial, so he decided to give in and let what had been building between them play out this once.

  Needing more, always needing more, he pulled her top higher, then, as she raised her arms, lifted it over her head before quickly dispensing with his own shirt. He settled back, satisfied his hands now had a wider range of skin to explore.

  “I love it when you do that,” she said, turning over to face him, then kissing him lightly, her lips brushing over his, teasing, luring.

  “I aim to please,” he murmured. He stretched out on the bed and adjusted her so she was lying along his body, gravity ensuring their skin-to-skin contact was firm, just the way he liked it. “You wore a dress the color of autumn leaves.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “A dress you had off me in less than an hour from first sight.”

  “Which was no disrespect to the dress,” he said as he unhooked her bra and threw it over the edge of the bed. “I dreamed about that dress every night until I found you again.”

  And that would have been a whole lot sooner if she hadn’t run before he could get her number. The day he’d discovered she was pregnant and they’d reconnected, she’d admitted that she’d freaked out that first night, thinking she’d just slept with her boss. It was understandable, but still a shame that they’d lost those months.

  A smile slowly spread across her face, even as she pushed his trousers and boxers down his legs. “You dreamed about
me?”

  “Oh, yeah.” They had been most excellent dreams—almost enough to make him not hate falling asleep at night. He stroked his hands down her bare back, still marveling that he didn’t need those dreams anymore. She was here with him. Touching him with as much urgency as he touched her. “And you weren’t just in my dreams,” he continued. “Thoughts of you filled most of my waking moments as well.” He unsnapped the clip at the back of her skirt and tugged it, then her underpants, away, leaving all her glorious skin available to his roaming hands.

  “Tell me,” she said as she kissed a trail along his collarbone.

  When her tongue flicked out and joined her lips on their mission, he had to pause and find his breath before he could reply. “When I was jogging, I could hear the sounds you made.” She lightly bit his shoulder, and his breath became jagged.

  “Tell me more,” she said, moving down his chest.

  “Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see your eyes, and the way they burned with wanting.” He speared his fingers through her hair as she kissed his abdomen. “When I stood under the shower spray, I could feel the smoothness of your skin.”

  “Keep going,” she said, but then her teeth grazed across his abdomen and he stopped being able to talk at all.

  Deciding to even things up a little, he rolled so she lay beneath him. She gasped, and he grinned. Surprising Harper was one of his favorite things to do. Then, supporting himself on one arm, he snaked a hand down to the juncture of her thighs, moving in rhythm until she whimpered—another of his favorite things to do.

  “Now you tell me,” he practically growled. “Did you think about me?”

  Finding his gaze, she nodded. The emotion in her warm brown eyes melted something inside him, and he slowed his hand.

  “I was confused,” she said, “because I’d see Malcolm at work and not feel anything, but when I was home, in those moments between sleeping and waking, where my mind wasn’t in control...it was you.” He saw her throat work as she swallowed. “Everything was you.”