B008KQO31S EBOK (42 page)

Book 2 in the Coxwell series

Two Sisters. One Disaster.

First things first: I’m the bad twin. While my sister, Marcia, has the perfect family in the perfect suburb, I’ve been making my living as an Internet advice columnist and designing Web sites in my downtown loft. I always thought I had the right answer—and hair color—for any occasion.

That is, until Marcia ran up loads of debt and ran out on her husband and kids, and I was left helping to pick up the pieces. Her husband, James, is a lawyer who I hate on principle alone.

But for a guy who’s just lost his job, his marriage, and his expensive toys, he’s keeping it together—and making me rethink my feelings toward him. It’s not that he’s traded in his conservative suits for sexy jeans. It’s that he’s not giving up what’s important to him, and oh baby, I’m a sucker for a guy who hangs tough.

That doesn’t mean I’m ready to step into Marcia’s designer shoes now that she’s gone A.W.O.L.

And it doesn’t mean I’m going to fall for James’s easy charm... not again, anyhow. Besides, I’ve had a lifelong policy of not being mistaken for my twin and I’m not backing down on that one now—no matter how convenient it might be for a certain sexy (and persuasive) man...

Chapter One

Subject
: what to do dating blues

Yo Aunt Mary -

Ancient uncle kicked, Mom says all 2 go 2 funeral FRIDAY NIGHT!

=8-o

lame.com -- I could be meeting Mr. Right instead. Wah!
:-(

Yr advice?

Hot_Chic

----

Subject
: re: what to do dating blues

Dear Hot_Chic

Go... in something sleek and black.

The heir might need solace -- and yr Fri PM might not be wasted after all.

;-)

Aunt Mary

***

Uncertain? Confused? Ask Aunt Mary!

Your one stop shop for netiquette and advice:

http://www.ask-aunt-mary.com

I propped my chin on my hand and stared at the message. Maybe I was getting bored with this gig. Aunt Mary certainly had lost a bit of her sparkle—she was sounding more like a cranky old bitch than an irreverent livewire these days.

But then, it was only nine at night and I was just waking up.

I saved the response without posting it to the board—just in case lightning struck in the wee hours of the morning—yawned and stretched. The truth of it was that I shouldn’t even have been out of bed yet, but I hadn’t slept well. Something had kept me awake today. Guilty conscience, maybe. Ha. Hole-digging types in the street below, more likely.

I was still warm and fuzzy, halfway between sleep and wake. But there were lots of messages for that sage of netiquette, Aunt Mary. Time for some rocket java to fuel the keyboard merengue.

The phone rang when I was elbowing some space on the cluttered counter for the coffee bean grinder. You’ve got to grind your own, you know, if you want a decent cup of brew.

“Auntie Maralys? Is that you?”

It wasn’t such a weird time for my nephew to be calling, but something about his tone made me forget my coffee. I would have bet my last buck that this ten-year-old kid was never uncertain of anything, but he sounded... lost.

He had my attention but quick. In fact, he was giving me hives. I don’t do kids. Don’t handle dependence and vulnerability real well. The only reason I can deal with my nephews is that they’re getting older—I think of them as very small adults and it’s okay.

Mostly.

But now, Jimmy was doing a “make my boo-boo better voice” and I felt my bile rising.

“Sure, Jimmy, it’s me. How’s it going?” Maybe I sounded a little more cheerful than necessary, but it seemed to reassure him.

It certainly reassured me.

“Houston, we have a problem,” he said, slipping into a routine we often used. In this scenario, I was NASA control and he was captain of the intrepid space voyager,
Calypso
. To say that Jimmy was a space nut would be the understatement of the century.

It worked out all right—kind of a meeting of the minds in technogook land.

“Roger,
Calypso
. I copy.” A problem to which I was the solution. I was already making a good guess as to what the deal might be. My sister, in case I haven’t mentioned it, is a selfish hare-brained idiot. “What are your coordinates,
Calypso
?”

“Um, at the pool.”

“You have swimming lessons tonight?”

“Roger, Houston. Exercise maneuvers have been completed.”

A long pause followed. Time for those latent psychic abilities to kick in. Sadly, they missed their cue. “Can you describe the nature of your problem,
Calypso
?”

“Um. Auntie Maralys...”

His voice quivered and I shivered right to my toes. Just having clutchy, needy people on my phone—well, one person really, but it was enough—made me want to break and run.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to guess what was up. Eenie meanie jelly beanie. “Have you made contact with your shuttle,
Calypso
?” I was thinking that my twin and I were going to have to have a serious talk if she couldn’t even remember to pick up her kids from swimming.

“Uh, no, Houston. There is no sign of the shuttle. Rendezvous may have been aborted.”

Now, I was mad. This was typical Marcia, imposing on everyone else and scaring the crap out of her kids, just so she could... what? Get her nails done? Probably something stupid, feminine and frivolous like that.

“And your back-up shuttle,
Calypso
?” I tried to keep the edge out of my voice because we all knew that James worked more hours than any human alive. “Do you have its coordinates?”

Jimmy faltered. “California, I think.”

I bit back a scream, then took a deep breath. It wasn’t Jimmy’s fault that morons were allowed to breed. “Okay,
Calypso
, I copy. Let’s review the checklist—are you currently at the scheduled rendezvous point?”

“Roger, Houston.”

“How long have you been at the rendezvous point,
Calypso
?”

“Since eight-thirty, after class ended.”

“At my mark, your shuttle is precisely thirty-two minutes late. Please confirm,
Calypso
. Mark.”

“That is correct, Houston. Thirty-two minutes and counting.”

“Please confirm,
Calypso
, whether you are on a solo mission. Your mission orders are inaccessible to me at this juncture.”

Marcia’s boys are just two years apart, spitting images of their father, and practically joined at the hip. I always thought it was weird for them to be so close—Marcia and I nearly murdered each other when we were kids, after all—but maybe my sister found it more convenient to keep them at the same place at the same time.

Maybe they secretly did hate each other’s guts in healthy sibling fashion. The prospect always cheered me.

“No, Houston. Lieutenant John is also aboard this mission. His class is done, too.” Jimmy’s voice dropped with uncertainty and he sounded like a lost little boy again. “Auntie Maralys, everyone has left.”

I damned my sister silently to hell and back, then wished that there really was something to the psychic bond between twins. At least then I could make a guess as to what Marcia was up to.

On the other hand, I really didn’t want to know more than I already did about how she thought. My very own twisted sister. I must have beat her to the line when they were handing out common sense.

Which was why she was married and had two kids, while I wasn’t and didn’t... and never would. These periodic crises were enough to keep my biological clock from ringing its alarm.

Along with a lot of other things, now neatly buried in my paleolithic past, and destined never to be exhumed.

“Roger.” I really had only one good choice, even though it was incredibly inconvenient. Almost as if Marcia planned it that way.

Hmm.

“Hold your position. Repeat: hold your position,
Calypso
. We have a technical complication on this end—there is no vehicle available for immediate rendezvous. Do you copy,
Calypso
?”

“We copy, Houston.” There was Johnny. I guessed that the boys were sharing the receiver.

“Mission control suggests you enter low orbit,
Calypso
, from which you can watch your designated position. In the event that your shuttle does appear, please hold your position until the second vehicle arrives to rendezvous. Repeat your orders,
Calypso
.”

Jimmy did, then Johnny whispered. “The janitor’s office is right over there, Auntie Maralys.”

“Roger,
Calypso
. We will rendezvous ASAP at your selected alternate coordinates.”

“Roger, Houston.”

“Over and out.” I flung on my battered leather jacket, ran for the door and vowed to break every bone in my sister’s body when I found her. Maybe I’d snap those perfect nails one at a time. I flagged down a cab, and the cabbie thought he’d died and gone to heaven when he discovered I was going all the way out to Lexington.

Might as well be Canada. Or California. Haha. I could pick James up myself and give him a telling-to about the responsibilities of parenthood. That would be fun.

As if I knew anything about it.

The fun would have to wait though. The boys were my first order of business. I rummaged surreptitiously through my pockets and hoped like hell that I had enough cash on me for the fare.

One thing was for sure—Marcia was a dead woman.

* * * * *

Double Trouble

Now available in a new edition.

* * *

Deborah also writes as Claire Delacroix

Keep reading for an excerpt of

Once Upon A Kiss

A Time Travel Romance

by Claire Delacroix

For over a thousand years—so legend has it—the brambles have grown wild over the ruins of Dunhelm Castle. Many believed that the thorns were a sign that the castle was cursed, so no one dared to trespass, and the secrets that they protected and concealed have remained hidden—until now.

Armed with a pair of gardening shears, Baird Beauforte is determined to clear away the brambles that hinder the development of his resort, and he won’t let local superstition deter him. Dunhelm Castle is supposed to be the latest jewel in the Beauforte Resort chain, but the renovations can’t be finished if the workmen are frightened of a so-called curse. To dispel any lingering fears, Baird decides to vanquish the briars himself. What he never expects is to find a mysterious slumbering beauty...

Aurelia is like no one he has ever met before. Upon awakening, she demands to know his identity and why he is in her father’s castle! Bemused by her claim of being a king’s daughter, he is certain he had never met this “princess” before, although something about her rouses a haunting sense of familiarity. Soon, dreams plague this by-the-book businessman... dreams that feel more like memories. And Baird begins to wonder if he can claim his heart’s princess—now and forever—with a kiss.

Chapter One

T
he thorny brambles had no chance.

The hedge clippers Baird had borrowed from the groundskeeper were fiercely sharp and he wielded them with characteristic determination. The brambles, though, refused to surrender without a fight. Baird had never seen brambles grow so big, so tangled or so robust.

They must be ancient, like everything else at Dunhelm Castle.

Another massive thorn bit at him and Baird cursed under his breath. No wonder the groundskeeper had refused to clear this corner! Talorc could blame local superstition but the truth was that he was just avoiding a miserable job.

It was raining this morning, as it had rained every day since his arrival at his new holding, but the light drizzle didn’t bother Baird. He was getting used to Scotland’s wide variety of rains, as well as the national refusal to let poor weather change plans for the day. After all, the skies could change in the blink of an eye.

What wasn’t changing was the way Baird felt at Dunhelm, and he wasn’t having an easy time getting used to that. He felt as though nothing else mattered in the world except Dunhelm and his being here.

Baird felt at home in the old ruins.

For a man who had never had a home, who had been certain he never wanted one, and who had always made a point of not settling anywhere for any length of time, this was more than unusual.

It was downright weird.

Baird meant to put a stop to Dunhelm’s strange effect on him, and he was going to do it today.

Dunhelm Castle—or what remained of it—occupied a jagged point of an island dropped into the misty gray of the North Sea. Although the grass was as level as a bowling lawn where Baird worked, rocky cliffs fell unevenly to the crashing sea beyond the encircling stone walls. There was a beach on the east side of the peninsula, though the wind was cold enough to flay the skin of anyone foolish enough to swim there.

All around Baird were the walls, the crumbled ruins that once had been towers and halls and kitchens. The wind from the west whistled through the ruins, and at dusk, the castle seemed alive with whispers of forgotten times. Baird did not consider himself an imaginative man, but Dunhelm seemed to pulse with the heartbeats of all the people who had lived here over the millennia.