Body Double (35 page)

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Authors: Alane Hudson

Tags: #love triangle, #millionnaire, #double, #twin, #wedding, #doppelganger, #second chance, #convenience, #marriage, #wealthy

BOOK: Body Double
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“She called just after I hung up with you, said she was between connections and wanted an update. I gave her the news about Harold.”

“Did you happen to mention that we visited him yesterday?”

“Yeah, why? Wasn’t I supposed to?”

The fact that Sarah didn’t immediately call him or Andrea to chew them out was a good sign. Maybe she wasn’t pissed. “No big deal. Just wanted to know. Thanks, man.” Then again, Sarah tended to manage her anger with silence. He wrapped up the call and disconnected, then set the phone down and kissed Andrea’s forehead. “We’d better put on our heat-proof gear today in case Sarah’s mad.”

 
 

 
 

“Don’t talk to me,” Sarah said, holding up one hand. She stared off at something, anything other than the faces of Andrea and Blake. Blake reached for her suitcase, and she jerked it back out of his hand.

“Let me help with your bag,” he said.

“I don’t need your help, Blake. You don’t go barging in on someone’s life. Just lead the way to the car.”

Andrea and Blake shared a wary glance and set off toward the airport exit. Outside, cars fought for spots beside the curb to get arriving passengers. They only had to wait in awkward silence for a couple of minutes before Steven pulled up in the limo. They’d taken a larger one this time, with two backward-facing seats where the televisions were in Blake’s usual ride.

Though Steven’s eyes went wide at the sight of another Sarah Gentry, he greeted her with a crisp bow and welcomed her home. While he loaded Sarah’s bags into the trunk, Andrea, Blake, and Sarah piled into the car. Andrea sat across from Blake, and Sarah sat beside him. She pulled the door shut and glared out the window until Steven shut the trunk lid and got behind the wheel.

“Where to, sir? Ma’ams?” Steven asked over the intercom.

“To my house,” Sarah said.

“Very well,” Steven said and disconnected.

“Are you packed? Did you bring your stuff with you?” Sarah asked, not looking at Andrea, though it was clear that was whom she was talking to.

“Um, no, I didn’t realize I’d be going home right away. I thought maybe we could--”

“Your job is done, Andrea. It’s time for you to go home and butt out of my life.”

“Sarah, we need to talk about what happened.”

Sarah glared at Blake and pointed her index finger at him. “Hush your mouth, Blake. I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I specifically told you not to go see that bastard at the hospital, and you went anyway. And you.” She turned her glare on Andrea, but at least she didn’t stab the air with her finger-spear. “I suppose you went in there pretending to be me. Tried to mend our relationship did you? Gave him what he wanted?”

“Sarah, I only--”

“I’ll bet you even apologized for me being gay, didn’t you? Assured him that Blake had turned me straight? You... you bitch!”

“Sarah,” Blake snapped, “shut the hell up for a minute and listen. We did what we did because it was the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do for him. You didn’t even consider what was right for me.”

Andrea tried hard not to cry. She hadn’t meant to hurt Sarah by visiting her father and giving him a moment’s peace before he died. Why would she loathe him so much that she wouldn’t want that for him?

“I did what I had to do for my mother,” Blake said. “Andrea was only trying to help.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t hire Andrea to interfere in my relationship with my father.” She turned her gaze back to Andrea. “You should have stayed the hell out of it. I have half a mind to sue you for identity theft.”

Andrea was taken aback. Sarah gave her the use of her identity for two and a half weeks. “You put me in the position of having to deal with your father when you hired me for this job.”

“The job. That’s all it was. A job. You crossed the line, Andrea.”

“I did what I thought was best for both of you. I’m a social worker, Sarah. What did you expect? That I’d let the man die of a broken heart without giving him the chance to apologize?”

Sarah blinked in surprise. “You made him apologize?” she asked, her voice much softer.

“I didn’t know,” Andrea said. “I thought he’d wronged you somehow.”

“He did wrong me.”

“You know better than that. You wronged him.”

“Hush your mouth,” Sarah said, her voice low and stern. “You don’t know as much as you think you do.”

“Sadly, I probably know more than you do about what he went through in jail.”

“Hush your mouth. Hush it right now.” Sarah put her hands over her ears as if to block anything else Andrea might have tried to tell her about her father’s ordeal.

Blake was staring at Andrea with wide eyes. “Jail?”

Andrea shook her head to ask him to drop it. It was Sarah’s personal business, and if she wanted to tell him, she could. It wasn’t Andrea’s place, and right now was not a good time to go into it.

He exhaled forcefully and leaned his head back on the seat with his eyes closed. Andrea watched them both in silence for several minutes while each waited for someone else to speak. The miles ticked by slowly and uncomfortably. Andrea tried to apologize again for upsetting Sarah, but the other woman silenced her with a sharp hiss and a seething glare.

At last, the limousine pulled into Sarah’s driveway, and Sarah opened the door before the driver even turned off the engine. She got out, leaving the car door open, and stalked to the gorgeous home’s front door. Andrea and Blake followed her out, calling to her, asking for the chance to talk. Without a word, Sarah unlocked the door, went inside, and slammed it behind her.

Steven got out to take her luggage to the house.

“That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” Blake said, leaning against the limo in defeat.

“Me neither. The calming atmosphere of her home might help.”

“I should talk to her alone,” he said. “Before I send you home, there’s one matter of business to settle.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “Do you have your checking account info with you?”

Andrea’s eyes went wide and her knees weak, and she put her hand on the limousine to steady herself. He’d been serious. He was paying her the five million dollars he’d promised simply for having the most amazing two weeks of her life. It was like a fairy tale come true, and yet her gut twisted, and her eyes watered. That meant this was really over. Her time with him was ending here and now, and he was paying her as if she’d been nothing more than an employee.

But she wasn’t his employee. She’d done this for the girls in Colombia, and for Sarah, and yes, for the one million that Sarah had promised her. Of course, now that Sarah was so angry about the hospital incident, there was a good chance Sarah would refuse to pay her. Andrea had put her own life on hold, had put her heart in jeopardy—even suffered the wound of falling in love with a man she clearly couldn’t have. Blake’s money would at least get her out of her financial mess. With five million dollars, she could start a new life far away from the two men who had broken her heart.

She dug her checkbook out of her purse while Blake spoke into the phone and asked someone named Carl to set up a wire transfer to an external account. He read off the numbers for her bank’s routing number and her account number into the phone.

“Five million dollars,” he said. “That’s right.” He thanked the person on the phone and ended the call. “If it’s not there in an hour, let me know.”

Andrea struggled to keep it together. She stood tall and squared her shoulders, ready to conclude her business with Blake Thomas.

The garage door rose slowly with a mechanical rumble, revealing Andrea’s faded, old Ford Focus. The car that she’d been so happy to receive eight years ago now embarrassed her. After pretending to be a wealthy heiress and bride for the last two weeks, her true identity as a lower-middle-class social worker was revealed like Cinderella’s mouse-driven pumpkin carriage at the stroke of midnight.

Her face burned with shame as she hurried to it, rummaging in her purse for her keys. This car didn’t unlock with the press of a button or her mere approach like Blake’s car did. She had to guide the key into the slot with her trembling hand.

“Andrea, wait,” Blake said. Just as she got the door unlocked, he caught up to her and looked over the car, probably calculating her net worth in the triple digits. “Don’t run off.”

“Isn’t this it? Isn’t this where we say good-bye?” Andrea started to cry. She couldn’t help it. Her shame and sorrow and love all coalesced into a cloud of pain inside her chest.

“No! Jesus, babe. No.” He pulled her into an embrace. “We’ll get it worked out. Trust me. I’ll make Sarah see reason.”

She closed her eyes and drew in his faint musky cedar scent, relishing it. This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Then I’ll swing by and pick you up. Assuming you want to stay at my place tonight.”

She nodded, wiping the tears from her face. How could she not trust him when his presence was so comforting, his arms so safe? “Of course I do. Tonight and forever.”

Sarah stormed into the garage carrying the knapsack stuffed with the clothes Andrea had brought with her in case Sarah’s hadn’t fit. She shoved the bag into Andrea’s arms. “Take off my dress and put on your own clothes.”

Andrea stood stunned for a moment. “Okay. May I use your bathroom?”

“You two look comfortable with each other. Change here.”

“Sarah,” Blake said, “don’t be a bitch. Let her change inside.” He took Andrea by the hand to lead her into the house, but Sarah blocked the door.

“Stay out of it, Blake. This is between Miss Busybody and me. She can’t go into my house.”

“If this is how you want to punish me,” Andrea said, “fine.” She unzipped the dress and pulled the straps off her shoulders, then let it fall to the garage’s cement floor. Blake turned around and blocked any view of her from the driveway, but Steven had taken Sarah’s bags to the house and hadn’t yet returned to the car. No one could see her from the street or even from a neighboring house, but he protected her state of undress all the same. Andrea yanked a pair of jeans from the backpack and pulled them on, as well as the first shirt she found.

“Shoes.”

Andrea stepped out of the ballet-style shoes and stood barefoot on the cold cement. “Satisfied?” Her sneakers were at Blake’s house, but she had an old pair at home.

“Not even close. Give me my rings back, and my debit card.”

Andrea took the engagement and wedding rings from her finger and handed them to Sarah, as well as the debit card in her wallet and the duplicate driver’s license. “Sarah, listen. I’m sorry. I never—”

“You’re fired.”

Blake turned around, looking confused.

Heat flooded Andrea’s face. She’d assumed, now that Sarah was back, that her job as power of attorney was finished. That probably wasn’t what Sarah meant. “Do you mean—”

“The social worker position at The Lighthouse, yes. Don’t bother showing up.” Sarah slid the two rings onto her left ring finger before picking up the dress and shoes and storming back into the house.

Though Blake had given her enough money to live on for perhaps the rest of her life, she’d looked forward to helping the shelter residents and couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

Blake’s brow fell low over eyes that burned with fury. “She’s going to be sorry.”

“Blake,” Andrea said, putting a hand on his arm. “This situation needs one rational person. Don’t let her goad you out of being that guy.”

He brushed a lock of hair away from her forehead with his middle finger and trailed it down the side of her face, then leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll call you as soon as this is settled. I love you, Andrea.”

With those four words, her heart swelled and she knew everything would be okay. “I love you too.”

 
 

 
 

Blake kissed Andrea goodbye and watched her back down the driveway and drive off. He took a deep breath and went inside.

He found Sarah in the kitchen, seated on one of the bar-height chairs at the counter and nursing a glass of golden liquid. He pulled out a chair beside her, picked up her glass, and took a whiff. Scotch served neat. He took a sip, swished the biting liquid around his mouth and swallowed, then set the glass down.

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