Chapter Two #2
Did he really expect a kiss?
Licking suddenly dry lips, her gaze moved to his mouth. His lips quirked in a half smile. For a second Emma wondered what they’d feel like against hers.
She snapped her gaze back to his, and shook her head.
“In your dreams.”
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and infectious. His eyes danced in amusement.
“For a moment I almost thought you’d call my bluff,” he said.
She shook her head again, giving thanks for a touch of sanity.
Yet the longing to offer a kiss remained strong.
His green eyes blazed down at her as she stepped a bit closer to him.
She felt his heat, breathed in a disturbingly erotic male scent.
She took a deep breath, held it as her eyes searched his.
Slowly he put his cup on the counter, never moving his gaze from hers.
The amusement in his eyes confused her. Was she behaving totally foreign to Lily?
Striving for some composure, hoping he didn’t see how wobbly her knees felt or notice the stain of color in her cheeks, she smiled and shrugged.
“Have a good trip?”
Her heart beat rapidly as she frantically tried to think as her sister would, to act like a cosmopolitan jet-setter who knew how to handle a man as dangerous as this one.
“People don’t go to work on software snafus to have a good trip. It would have been cheaper and easier to devise the special effects they needed and forget about their doing it themselves. But, yes, the trip went okay. The food was great. Italian hotels leave a lot to be desired, however.”
This was Lily’s neighbor, the one she’d said would be gone for weeks. The relief he wasn’t Pierre coursed through her in a tangible wave. But she wasn’t safe yet. What was his name?
Stalling, hoping she never had to call him by name, she poured herself a cup of coffee and went to perch on the edge of a chair at the table set in the bay window. From here she had a fantastic view of the ocean.
The kitchen came furnished with all the gadgets and equipment for a gourmet cook.
Did her sister cook? Somehow they’d never discussed it.
The cupboards were stocked with food, as was the refrigerator, most of the food acquired last night after dinner.
They’d eaten at a quiet little restaurant, then Lily drove to the huge supermarket that remained open all night.
Shopping for groceries at eleven o’clock at night had been a novelty, Emma thought. And the way Lily had questioned her on every item had her wondering if Lily expected Emma to do the cooking while she visited.
How odd to know so little about her own twin.
“You’re home earlier than planned, aren’t you?” she asked, trying desperately to remember everything her sister had said about this neighbor.
“Pete’s still over there, but we found the problem right away. They shouldn’t have messed with the basic software. Want me to fix breakfast?”
Emma looked up at that, surprised.
“If you hadn’t come down, I planned to serve you in bed,” he said audaciously, grinning. “If I found your room, that is.”
“I can fix it.”
“Then hop to it, Lil, I’m starving.”
“Inviting yourself over?”
He drained his cup and replaced it on the counter.
“No food at my place. You’d think that new service would provide better for their customers.
I don’t think highly of your recommendation.
And don’t tell me I need to give them a chance.
They had one and blew it. If they can’t handle the job they shouldn’t misrepresent themselves in their advertising. I’ll look for someone else.”
“You might try asking them why they didn’t do what you wanted and give them a chance to explain,” Emma said as she rose and headed for the refrigerator, glad for something to do.
It was obvious the man didn’t plan to leave anytime soon.
He fascinated her. She wanted to learn more about him, but should she continue this charade? Sooner or later he’d discover she wasn’t Lily, and she’d probably feel like a total idiot.
He stared hard at her for a long moment. Finally he nodded and looked away.
“Yes, I guess I could. Not taking umbrage at my opinion about your recommendation?”
Obviously Lily would. Emma shrugged her shoulders and remained silent.
“I want French toast,” he said as he pulled a chair from the table and sat down, rocking back on two legs. “And don’t burn it.”
Did that answer her question about her sister’s cooking? Who burned French toast?
“Have any meat—bacon or ham?” he asked.
Emma scanned the contents of the refrigerator.
She remembered Lily buying a package of bacon and found it in the meat drawer.
She loved bacon, yet rarely indulged. Her mother prided herself on being a nutrition freak and insisted her children eat only the best, which meant low-fat, low-calorie foods.
Emma lived on her own, but still followed many of her mother’s dictates in food. Some habits were hard to break.
But she was on vacation, she reminded herself, time to do things differently. She was three thousand miles from anyone who knew her. Why not?
“What have you been up to lately?” he asked when Emma began to soak the bread in egg batter.
For an instant she froze. It was one thing to play at being her sister when it involved merely wearing her clothes or driving her car.
But to convincingly impersonate Lily around her friends would be impossible.
And from what she’d seen of her sister since arriving, Lily would laugh at her feeble masquerade.
Yet she wasn’t ready to admit that she was Emma. Smiling, Emma tossed her head and glanced at him over her shoulder with what she hoped would pass as a provocative smile.
“I’ve been busy—shopping, dancing, the usual.”
She hadn’t a clue what her sister did for “the usual,” but maybe he would.
“Want to go out tonight to dinner?” he asked easily. “We can go to that restaurant we tried a few months ago. I won’t be much company, I’m so tired from traveling I can hardly see straight, but I promise to stay awake long enough to eat.”
She hesitated. Not a good idea, spending more time with this man. Sooner or later he was sure to catch on.
“Hot date?” he asked when she didn’t respond.
She shook her head, trying desperately to come up with an excuse to avoid dinner.
“Then say yes and cook breakfast. I’m hungry.”
“Okay. What should I wear?”
He looked puzzled for a moment.
“What you usually wear, I guess. It’s just dinner at Garcia’s.”
“Right.”
She flipped the bread into the pan. What did Lily usually wear?
Was Garcia’s some posh restaurant that would take four hours to work through a meal, or some trendy place where they’d meet dozens of friends?
She was crazy to even try this. She had to tell him.
Yet, embarrassment froze her tongue. How in the world would she explain without looking like the world’s biggest idiot?
“Are you all right, Lily?” Logan asked.
“Of course, why?”
She flipped a piece of batter-coated bread, afraid to turn around.
“You seem different, somehow. Not like yourself.”
“I...uh, I think I’m coming down with a cold,” she quickly improvised.
“What you need is a day lying in the sun, bake out the germs. We can go out later and laze around the beach all day and I’ll tell you about my trip.”
She piled the golden-brown French toast on a plate, added several strips of crisp bacon and turned to hand it to him. He stood right beside her. She almost tipped the plate down the front of him.
“Oh.”
“Thanks, looks better than last time.”
He reached around her to open a cupboard door, almost encircling her with his body and his arm. He crowded against her as he reached for something. Emma gave way until she pressed against the counter.
Paralyzed, she couldn’t move, her legs wouldn’t respond.
Breathing in the scent of bacon, cinnamon and tantalizing male, her eyes traced his jaw, the brown column of his throat.
Every nerve ending in her body tingled as he leaned in against her.
The plate was the only thing that separated them.
She swallowed hard, her eyes on his mouth.
Her knees threatened to buckle. She might not be able to move away, but she might just sink into a puddle right in front of him.
Her imagination soared. What would it be like to be flirtatious like her sister, wild and uninhibited? To kiss him, to have him kiss her?