Tempted by the Wrong Twin Page 14

  “No,” she said, her voice low. “I’m upset about the lie. We’re in the middle of this intense situation together—we married to protect your custody of your daughter from your ex-wife and her fiancé. To protect our babies’ relationship with both their parents. To protect Tate Armor from Maverick. All while you’re dealing with the aftereffects of fighting a war on the other side of the world. Plus we can’t tell anyone about our marriage arrangement except Malcolm, just in case Melissa finds out. In the midst of this, all we have is each other.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “We do have each other.”

  “The thing is, we never had a bond of love to hold us together. This was always a partnership between two people who have mutual goals, and any feelings and intimacy that developed were a bonus.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “We’re in agreement about all of this.”

  “All right, then. Here’s my point. What we have is a shared situation, as well as respect and trust. And if you take out the trust, you undermine the agreement that everything else was built on.”

  It suddenly all clicked into place. “Okay, I get it.” Being completely open with the mess that was in his head wasn’t second nature to him, and it wasn’t an appealing thought, either. But he’d committed to this marriage, and he had a lot to lose, starting with relationships with his three children. He needed to step up his game. “I’ll keep you in the loop with what’s going on for me. And if I slip up, just ask. I promise I’ll do my best to explain.”

  “Thank you.” The word was whispered so softly, he barely heard it. “And I promise not to pressure you to give more than you feel you can. If you want to go back to sleeping in your own room, that’s okay with me. And the alternative is okay, too—staying the night with me, risking that you’ll have a nightmare and trusting that I’ll be able to handle it.”

  The fear rose up and threatened to overwhelm him, but he wanted to do this. Wanted to try. Could he? Dare he?

  He moved over to her sofa and sat beside her. Then he stepped over the edge of the cliff. “If you really mean it, I’m willing to try actually sleeping with you.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I really mean it.”

  He pulled her tighter and hoped like hell that he hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  * * *

  It was a few hours later, when they’d had dinner and were ready for bed, that Nick found himself in Harper’s room, wanting desperately to climb under the covers with her but still not sure if he could risk it.

  Causing Harper pain or distress went against everything he believed in, and yet, he’d already agreed to stay the night with her. And actually sleep. Breaking his word also went against everything he believed in...

  She stroked a hand over the sheet and smiled at him. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

  At war with itself, he took a step, then another until he reached her. “Are you sure?”

  “Nick,” she said, her gaze steady, “you need to trust me. And trust in my capacity to cope.”

  Still torn, he sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.”

  Her expression changed, and he saw glimmers of the courtroom lawyer. “When you were in the military, you were part of a team. Everyone had a job to do, and you had to trust one another to do your jobs, right?”

  “Right,” he said, warily.

  “This is the same. You need to let me play my part.” She pulled his shoulder until he lay down beside her. “Promise you’ll trust me and you’ll go to sleep?”

  He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was a turning point in their relationship—tonight could bring them closer or push them apart.

  He let out a long, controlled breath. Whatever the outcome, he’d made the decision earlier when he’d agreed to sleep with her, so it was time to step up to the plate and put his words into action.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I promise.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered and snuggled her back into his chest.

  He pulled her closer, adjusted the pillow under his head and let his eyes drift shut. After a few minutes of listening to Harper breathe and trying to relax himself to sleep, the world began to fade.

  * * *

  A flash of light amid the dirty dark of night... Ground shaking, walls shaking... Diving for cover... Screaming from all directions... Another flash... Noise filling the air leaving no room for anything else, not even oxygen... Screams of the dying... Trying to shout orders but smoke stealing his voice... His men. Where were his men? Searching... The stench of vomit and blood...a pile of clothes—no, a man. Gregson. Lifeless... No! Oh, God, no... So sorry... Flames... Shouting... An arm. Moving rubble. Adams. Alive... Dragging to safety, going back in... Flashes and noise... More dead... Screaming... Sorry, so sorry...

  A soft voice floated through the darkness, soothing, telling him he was safe. It was a beautiful voice, one that stirred his soul and drew him away from the horrors still clinging to him. But the darkness wouldn’t release its grip that easily, and the place between sleep and wakefulness was the worst...

  In dreams, there was still a small hope that he’d find more of his unit alive this time. That he’d save them. He would have thrown himself between his team and danger to protect them, no question. But each time present-day reality intruded, he’d remember all over again that he hadn’t saved them. And there was nothing he could do to fix it now. Adrenaline pumped through his system, urging him to act. To do something.

  The voice was still there, anchoring him. Harper’s voice. And another sound. Soft whining from his other side.

  Heart thudding against his ribs, he pried his eyes open to see Harper filling his vision, her achingly beautiful face surrounded by a soft halo of light.

  “Hey,” she said gently.

  He couldn’t yet form words, and he didn’t know what he’d say anyway, but he did know she was the only person he wanted to see right now. The only one who could make the darkness inside seem a little more bearable. Though, even as his arms wanted to reach for her, he locked his muscles tight to stop them. Dragging her further into his darkness would be selfish.

  More than that, he didn’t deserve the comfort. The nightmares were a fair penalty—reliving the horrors was the least he deserved. After all, some very fine people hadn’t made it through to be able to remember it.

  This was his penance.

  His father had told him to stay strong. Good advice. No matter what was in his memory banks, he should be able to handle it. He drew another shuddering breath and clenched his hands to stop them shaking. He had to be honest with himself—he was clearly not handling it. Worse, Harper could see his failure. She was bearing witness to his shame.

  Something wriggled on his other side, and he became aware again of the soft whining in the background. He turned to find Frank on the bed, stretched out alongside him, burying his face in Nick’s side.

  “I didn’t invite him,” Harper said. “When I woke up and realized you were having a nightmare, Frank was already here, leaning in to you, making those noises.”

  Nick put an arm around Frank, and his dog settled against him, feeling solid and reassuring. The presence gave more comfort than he would have expected. There were treats in that dog’s immediate future. Just as soon as Nick mastered basic things like breathing and moving again.

  He began to silently count his breaths, a technique he used to calm his body and slow his pulse, relying on the steady strength of both Harper and Frank to help. Three breaths in, Harper lay down and wrapped her arms around him, holding him. It was more than he deserved. She was always more than he deserved, more than he should accept, but, God help him, he couldn’t bring himself to push her away. Pathetic as he was, he wrapped his arms around her and took th
e comfort she offered, grateful she at least hadn’t been horrified this time.

  * * *

  As Harper watched her husband beside her, she was determined not to let the tears pressing at the back of her eyes form. He wouldn’t want them. Instead, she lay quietly, letting him deal with whatever was in his mind at his own pace, trying to be a calm presence.

  Calm was a big ask when she was torn between despair at seeing him in pain and hope because he hadn’t shut her out this time. She rubbed his tense shoulders and settled for calmish.

  After long minutes, he pulled himself up, but still he didn’t push her away—he sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low, as if he was still trying to regain his breath. She swung her legs around to sit beside him, laying a hand gently on his back so he knew he wasn’t alone.

  Without looking at her, he reached out and snagged her other hand, bringing it to rest on his thigh, their fingers tightly entwined. Her heart stopped dead at the meaning in the simple gesture, then roared back to life, flooding her body with emotion. By reaching for her instead of pushing her away, Nick had let her though a major barrier.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” she whispered. “For sharing the parts of you that I know you’d rather keep hidden.”

  He didn’t look at her, barely moved beyond his chest rising and falling more roughly than it should. “I’m still not feeling great about dragging you into this mess.”

  He might not feel great about it, but she was happy to be dragged anywhere with him. It was being left behind that hurt.

  She stood and drew him to his feet. “Together, we can face this.”

  “I’m starting to believe we can face anything together.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Pulling gently on his hand, she led him into the attached bathroom, and once they stepped past the door, she lifted onto her toes and kissed him. He returned the kiss—not one of passion, but sweetness, trust, bearing witness to the depth of their relationship. Tears stung at the backs of her eyes, but she didn’t realize one had fallen until he wiped it from her cheek with his thumb.

  Wordlessly, she stepped back and turned the shower on, testing it with her hand as the water warmed to the perfect temperature. Then, their fingers again entwined, she stepped in, tugging his hand to bring him in after her. One corner of his mouth lifted in a shadow of a smile, and he followed. Her pulse kicked up a notch. She released his hand and placed her palms on his chest, gently pushing him under the spray.

  As she soaped him up, she allowed herself the luxury of admiring his body, loving the ridges and hollows, the scars as well as the smooth perfection. And he allowed her—turning when she nudged him, letting her take the lead.

  “No need to think,” she said. “Just feel.”

  His shoulders relaxed a fraction more as he gave himself over to her. His body followed her movements as if they were in a dance, his breaths becoming fast and shallow, matching hers.

  She wanted to give him this—the mindlessness of his body’s reaction, all traces of the images that had haunted him banished under the weight of desire. So she touched him the way she’d learned he liked to be touched, lightly feathering her fingertips over his abdomen, kissing along his collarbone, scraping her nails over his back.

  “Harper,” he rasped against her throat. Her skin felt too tight for her body, and his hands roaming only made her restless for more.

  With a hand under one of her knees, he picked her leg up and brought it around his waist, then gripped her hips and lifted her. She leaned her weight against the cool tiles at her back and wrapped her other leg around him.

  As the shower spray fell against her skin, Nick thrust forward, filling her, moving in a rhythm that quickly took her to the brink, then higher, building, higher, past the point she could contain it anymore, until she was bursting, flying free, and even before she could land, she felt him follow her, shouting her name. And in that moment, she felt more connected to him than she had to any other person, and she could believe that nothing would ever tear them apart.

  Once she regained her breath, she lowered one leg to find the shower floor again—even slumped against her, he’d still been holding her weight. He released her, placed a tender kiss on her lips, then ducked his head under the water. This time he soaped up his hands and washed her, then when they were done, he dried her off and wrapped her in a thick towel.

  “Thank you,” he said, his gaze holding hers. She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He wasn’t thanking her for what she’d done with her body—it was more than that. He was thanking her for looking after him. For caring. For accepting him.

  “We’re in this together,” she said. “We’re a team.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded before gathering her against him and holding tight.

  Eleven

  Harper arrived at Natalie Valentine’s bridal store at the Courtyard Shops five minutes late for their lunch date with Sophie Prescott.

  Natalie met her at the door, her shoulder-length red hair swept up in a messy ponytail, and handed her a glass of champagne.

  “Sorry I’m a little late,” Harper said as she slipped inside.

  “Don’t worry.” Natalie smiled. “I’m running even more behind than that. The champagne is to make up for it. It’s nonalcoholic for you and Sophie.”

  Harper tasted the cool drink. “Random glasses of champagne make up for just about anything.”

  “Come on, Sophie’s already over here. I’m doing a fitting for Chelsea Hunt’s bridesmaid’s dress, and she said she doesn’t mind if you two are here while I finish up.”

  Natalie showed her over to a set of sofas where Sophie—her own glass of champagne in hand—was already sitting with a gorgeous woman with glossy honey-brown hair around her shoulders. Harper had never spoken to Chelsea before, but she’d heard nice things from other people, so she was pleased to have the chance to meet her.

  “Harper, this is Chelsea. She’s Brandee Lawless’s maid of honor, and I just need to make a couple of quick alterations to her dress before we can go.” She turned to the other woman. “Chelsea, this is Harper Lake. She’s an attorney over at Tate Armor.”

  “Nice to meet you, Harper,” Chelsea said, holding out her hand. “Tate Armor. Isn’t that Malcolm Tate’s company? That man is seriously gorgeous.”

  Caught off guard, Harper felt heat creep up her neck to her cheeks as she shook the other woman’s hand. Though it wasn’t Malcolm she was thinking about.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, her gaze roaming over Harper’s face. “Did I put my foot in my mouth? Is there something between you and Malcolm?”

  “Not Malcolm,” Sophie said. “His identical twin brother, Nick. Who one assumes must be just as seriously gorgeous.”

  Just as seriously gorgeous. Harper almost laughed. How did she explain that the two men were identical, yet looked nothing alike? One was easy on the eyes. The other made her burn with want and fire and need and love...

  She stilled. As soon as the word formed in her mind, she knew it was true. Hard to believe she’d fallen in love so quickly, but there was no other way to describe the intensity of her feelings for him. The way her heart skipped a beat whenever she saw Nick or heard his voice. Or even thought about him.

  The other women were still looking at her, waiting for her to confirm that Nick was as gorgeous as Malcolm. She gave a quick nod and slipped into a seat on the sofa.

  Natalie took a step back. “Can you just excuse me a minute? I need to check a couple of things on the dress.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow. “We don’t get to see it?”

  “Not until the wedding, along with everyone else,” Natalie said with a smile, then disappeared into another room.

  “So, the last time we were together, there was lots of j
uicy gossip,” Sophie said good-naturedly. “I’m hoping for at least as much today.”

  Chelsea glanced up. “Juicy gossip? You can’t say something like that then not explain.”

  “Well,” Sophie said, grinning, “the juiciest of all was that Harper here got married since we’d last seen her less than a couple of weeks before.”

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. “To Nick Tate?”

  “Yes,” Sophie confided. “And they’re expecting twins.”

  “Okay, that is juicy.” She turned to Harper. “I’m impressed—you make good gossip.”

  Chuckling, Harper raised her glass to her, said, “Thanks,” and sipped the amber liquid, hoping the conversation would flow in another direction. She was in no state to chat coherently. After all, she’d only just realized she was in love with her husband.

  “Now, Chelsea,” Sophie said, “your turn. What have you got that will go well with this glass of bubbles?”

  “Okay, there is something.” She took a mouthful of her champagne, then grinned.

  Harper grinned back, feeling a little light-headed. The drink was nonalcoholic, so it had to be from her realization about Nick, but she liked Chelsea already, so she was happy to share her good mood. “Anything you say won’t go any further,” she said and touched a finger to her lips. “Our lips are sealed.”

  “Well—” Chelsea glanced around, clearly trying not to smile “—I’ve been seeing a fair bit of Gabe Walsh since we’ve been doing the best man–maid of honor duties for the wedding.”

  “Gabe is another man who’s seriously gorgeous,” Natalie said, poking her head around the door from the other room.

  Chelsea bit down on her lip and seemed to lose herself for a moment before continuing. “We were out at Brandee’s Hope Springs Ranch the other day, doing a few things for the wedding, and there was...how about we say there was a little extracurricular activity.”