Double Take (2 page)

Kait was one second away from whipping the Porsche into a U-turn and fleeing. Instead, the last lines of Lana’s letter resounded in her mind.

Kait, I am desperate. I would never ask this of you if I weren’t. You’re my sister, my twin, and even after all of these years, I know that bond can’t be severed. I know I can count on you.

Lana was never desperate. Lana was always cool and calm, always smiling, always filled with confidence. But she was none of those things now. Now, she was scared.

And from the sound of things, rightly so.

Kait drove between the two brick pillars.

Summoning up her courage, absolutely willing her nerves to be steady—and reminding herself that no one could possibly suspect the switch, at least, not yet—Kait drove slowly up a long gravel driveway lined with more sparkling white paddocks and a succession of stately oak trees.
Could she deceive everyone?
Wouldn’t someone be able to see through her superficial disguise? After all, she and Lana were nothing alike!

Kait wanted to retch. But she hadn’t been able to eat all day, so she knew it was only her overwrought nerves. She had to be more like her sister now. She had to be charming, extremely confident, naturally sexy.

But surely Lana’s own child would be able to tell the difference between her aunt and her mother, even if they did look alike. But Lana had felt certain that Marni would not know and she had said so in her letter. She had also written that Coleman had a teenaged daughter from his first marriage, Samantha, and she had left a description of the house, the housekeeper, and the staff. Kait wanted to believe as Lana did that they could pull off this deception; she wanted to turn the car around and drive away.
No matter the trouble Lana was in, everything that they were doing was so terribly wrong.

But Kait couldn’t take a chance on Corelli hurting either her sister or her niece and it was as simple as that.

Suddenly a band of long, lanky yearlings raced by on her left. Surprised, Kait started, but then she slowed, and before she even knew it she was watching the beautiful young Thoroughbreds playing gracefully in the adjacent paddock, distracted. The band of yearlings, all chestnuts and one black, turned and galloped away, tails high, manes flying, and Kait felt herself smile. She simply had to watch them until they disappeared from sight. Lana had to be the luckiest woman in the world, to have a man like Trev Coleman fall in love with her, to have a daughter—a family—and a fairy-tale home like Fox Hollow.

Kait started the Porsche down the drive again. She had her window wide open, and now she sniffed the crisp, fresh country air with a deep appreciation. And as she drove past an outdoor riding ring and six state-of-the-art whitewashed barns, one of which was probably a huge indoor arena, her heart quickened, this time with anticipation. A part of her could not wait to walk through the front door and get settled in.

Kait quickly had to remind herself of what she was doing and that this was not her home. But on the other hand, a few days from now, she would be a legitimate family member and undoubtedly from that point on a frequent guest. Then she saw the house.

It was a brick colonial, built in the late eighteenth century, with a high temple pediment and six huge white columns supporting it. The beautiful residence sat above the rest of the estate on a hill. As she drove up the drive toward it, her anxiety returned. A dusty black Land Rover and a big, brand-new cobalt blue pickup truck sat off to the side of the house, in front of a garage that was so beautifully designed that it looked like a residential wing. The hood of the Land Rover was up. Her heart skipped as she braked and turned off the ignition; a man slammed down the hood and looked at her.

This was it.

The point of no return.

She had parked beneath a huge oak tree, out of the sun; now, she lifted her gaze with real trepidation and met an intense blue stare. Kait relaxed, because for one instant she had feared the worst—that Coleman had changed his plans and was at home. But this was not Trevor Coleman. Trev was darkly blond and tanned, and Kait knew he was in his mid-thirties. This man was in his early forties and he had dark, short hair. He wasn’t short, but he wasn’t tall and he had the physique of a boxer or a weightlifter; Coleman was tall and his build was average. Besides, this man was wearing a very worn and faded pale blue T-shirt (which revealed bulging biceps and rock-hard abs) and rather stained jeans with a pair of work boots. Kait felt certain Coleman ran his estate in tan breeches and knee-high riding boots. This was not, thank God, Lana’s husband.

Kait felt certain that this was a recently hired employee, Max Zara, part handyman, part stable boy. Kait realized she was gripping the wheel. She took a deep breath, forced a smile, and grabbed her purse, stepping out of the car. She stumbled in Lana’s high heels and winced.

She realized that posing as Lana even for two days might have technical problems—like the three- and four-inch heels her sister favored. Hoping Zara had not seen her little faux pas, Kait slung Lana’s Gucci bag over her shoulder and went carefully to the back of the car. She flipped up the Porsche’s tiny trunk lid.

The back of her neck began to prickle. Kait had the awful feeling of being watched; she stiffened automatically and turned with dread and a lurching sensation in her stomach. Max Zara was staring at her. His regard was so fixed that Kait flinched. Had she just remarked hostility in his eyes?

Perhaps this wasn’t Zara after all.

His brilliant blue eyes slipped over her coolly. “Pleasant trip, Mrs. Coleman?” he asked with an accent that had to be Brooklyn or Queens. He was certainly no native Virginian. And he did not smile, not even slightly, and his eyes were ice cold.

Kait had not mistaken his hostility—he reeked with it. She pulled herself together, bewildered and taken aback. “It was wonderful,” she said as warmly as possible.

He continued to stare.

Kait hesitated, as he offered no reply. What was going on? She knew she was missing something—because she saw speculation as well as enmity in his eyes. Why hadn’t Lana mentioned that they were at odds? Were he and her sister at odds? And, if so, why? He was only a hired hand—how much could Lana have to do with him? She forced a smile. Lana had told her husband she was going to New York to do some shopping. “I found a lot of sales,” she said brightly. God, she sounded as panicked as she felt! She had to get a grip.

He sauntered over, his gaze never wavering, and the closer he came, the more she tensed. “Not a lot of bags for a shopping spree,” he remarked, finally glancing away from her and into the trunk where she had Lana’s single garment bag and one shopping bag from FAO Schwarz.

His eyes were so pale that they were unnerving—especially when they settled coolly on her again. “I’m having everything sent,” she said, turning. She felt shaken, but she had just been caught in her lie. She reached into the trunk and hefted out the garment bag.

Instantly, his hand brushed hers, closing on the bag as he took it from her. “Now why would you go taking your own bags from the car?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

Their gazes smacked into one another. Kait could hardly think, much less respond, and then it hit her—she was a wealthy woman, she was waited upon. She had a role to play, and she had better start playing it now.

Zara’s pale blue gaze pinned her; he did not reach for the shopping bag, and he waited patiently for her answer.

But what answer could she possibly give? “My feet are killing me and I am desperate to change my shoes,” she said quickly, managing a smile and feeling a flush, but actually, it was the truth.

He was unmoved. “I’ll bring your bags right up, Mrs. Coleman,” he said, and his eyes slid over her again, this time in a sexually disparaging manner.

Kait was so stunned by his rudeness that she turned and fled toward the house, tripping again in Lana’s high-heeled boots. She heard the trunk of the Porsche slamming. She wanted to throttle her sister for not warning her that there was some kind of intense conflict going on with one of the estate’s employees. But was it a conflict or something else? That man had undressed her with his eyes, and of that she had no doubt.

She reminded herself that her sexy sister often provoked such reaction in men. Lana had begun flirting as a child—as a teen, she’d had boys begging for her attentions. She had always been naturally coy; without any effort, she had always attracted men. While Kait recalled all this in a flash, now her own mental excuses for her sister felt feeble.

Hopefully Lana had not been flirting with Max Zara right beneath her husband’s nose.

Kait composed herself, finding her balance and looking up. Someone was standing on the porch, framed by the massive columns holding up the temple pediment of the house. As Kait approached, she saw a tall, shapely older woman clad in riding breeches, paddock boots, and a crisp white shirt with a navy blue sweater draped over her shoulders. For a woman dressed to be in the stables, she had not a speck of dirt upon her. Very serious, square tortoiseshell glasses framed a square face with high cheekbones and some interesting lines; her graying blond hair was pulled tightly back into a chignon. Kaitlin knew this was the housekeeper, Elizabeth Dorentz. She was smiling politely, impersonally, at her.

Kait smiled back, her heart racing with fear, and began up the wide, steep stone steps to the porch of the house. “Mrs. Dorentz,” she began. “Am I glad to be... home.” She tripped over the last word.

Elizabeth nodded. “How was your trip? I have lunch waiting.” Her eyes narrowed and slid over Kaitlin. “You cut your hair.”

Kait wet her lips, running her hand through the Meg Ryan layers. “I did. At Bergdorf ‘s. It was time for a change.”

Elizabeth didn’t respond. She turned and walked into the house.

Kait blinked, once again thoroughly taken aback. Had she just been rebuffed? But what had she done? Lana had said that Elizabeth had been with the family for decades—ever since Trev Coleman was a little boy. Surely she had imagined the other woman’s rudeness. Maybe she was curt and brusque by nature. And then Kait felt eyes on her back, right in the center of her rigid shoulder blades. She glanced back. Max Zara’s stare was as cool and unflinching as earlier. Kait simply could not bear the tension—she hurried into the house after Elizabeth Dorentz, perspiring.

And the moment she stepped over the threshold, she entered another world, another time, another place.

Kait halted, breathing deeply, the scent of pine and lilac strong.

She stood in a spacious foyer. Smooth oak floors were underfoot, pine beams overhead, and a wide staircase led to the upper floors of the house. Kait was certain that the house had been built in colonial times, which meant that the interior had been completely renovated in the recent past. Directly ahead was a huge living room—clearly several walls had been knocked out to accommodate the designer’s aims. The décor was old-world elegance: antiques vied with tweeds and leather, nineteenth-century paintings hung on the walls in old and faded gilded frames. As Mrs. Dorentz had disappeared, Kait found herself walking into the living room, where a wall of huge windows looked out on the pastures and horses below, with rolling blue hills framing the horizon.

Her chest was tight. It was so beautiful—the view, this room, the house—and she could imagine being curled up in that huge stuffed tan suede chair at night, the one not far from the massive stone fireplace, her feet on the matching ottoman, the brown-and-green paisley throw on her lap, a book in hand, a glass of wine at her elbow. Because, while this room was clearly for entertaining, it was as clearly designed for family comfort. She smiled when she saw a small horse model peeking out from the sofa’s plush throw pillows. A tiny rider doll was on the horse’s back.

Marni would be at pre-K now.

Kait had to close her eyes and pinch herself.

Lana’s life was like a dream come true.

The rich, deep timbre of a man’s voice drifted through the house, reaching her. It was a voice she had heard only once and years ago, but it was a voice that she would never forget. Kait stiffened impossibly, stunned, her eyes flying open, her heart racing with alarm. The unseen man now approaching in the hall was Lana’s husband, Trev Coleman, and Kait simply knew it.

Her throat went dry. Her worst fear had just been realized. She became paralyzed.

He would take one look at her and demand to know who the hell she was and just where the hell his real wife was.

His words became distinct. “I mean it.... Couldn’t have done it without you...If ever I can...Yeah... Thanks again. Great job.” His voice was a bit scratchy, very distinctive, and completely sensual.

And as his voice became clearer, as his footsteps sounded, she felt herself turn into a block of ice. Trev Coleman had changed his plans. He was there, at Fox Hollow, in the house. They would meet at any moment. Oh, God, what should she do now?

An image of Lana assailed her. Her blue eyes were filled with fear.

His footsteps halted. Kait knew he stood behind her, on the threshold of the living room and foyer. Kait didn’t move—because she could not. Lana and Marni were in danger. She had to go through with this. And slowly, her mind turning oddly blank, hardly able to draw a decent breath, Kait turned.

He was backlit by the sun. For one moment, Kait only saw a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. For one moment, she prepared to blurt out the truth. For one moment, she felt the way she had at Le Cirque, sitting there in her best black dress, in brand-new sexy shoes, waiting for him to appear, to smile at her. Then he took another step, from sunshine into shadow, and she saw his face. He saw her and halted in midstride, as if surprised.

Their eyes met.

His were green.

Kait forgot to breathe. The two photographs she had seen years and years ago hadn’t done justice to this man. Oh, no, he was drop-dead good-looking, with movie-star sex appeal.

Trev Coleman didn’t move. Neither did Kait. They simply stared unblinkingly at one another, and Kait felt that her expression had become as unreadable as his.