Falling for the Wrong Twin (2 page)

She bit her lip, seeing the tension in his body and making a guess at the reason why. “Gotta be hard, being an identical twin and all. He goes on to professional athletics and supermodels and you get stuck helping strange women by the side of the road.”

“Don’t mind the women--strange or otherwise,” he said with an attempt at a flirtatious look. But the expression didn’t make it to his eyes.

“What do you mind?”

His chin lifted, and his gaze became wary. She’d seen that look before--had probably worn it no more than twenty minutes ago--it was a who-are-you-and-what-do-you-want face. So she did what he’d done earlier. She held up her hands and tried to explain.

“Look, I’m not trying to pry. Honest. I’m an only child and sibling issues fascinate me. The good, the bad, and the ugly just make life interesting. No need to share if you don’t want to.”

He cocked his head, his gaze becoming intense. “I can see you as a prima donna child.”

She snorted. She’d been anything but. “I think I’m insulted by that.”

He smiled. “Fair enough. And to answer your question, yeah, maybe I had some why-didn’t-I-go-pro moments in college, but believe me, I’m long over that.”

“Really?”

He nodded firmly. “Really. I know how much Rick’s sacrificed to get where he is, and I know how much it’s killing him now.”

She blinked. “Killing him? Like literally?”

“Not literally. The strain on the body is only one factor. There’s the whole lifestyle and the constant media attention.” He gestured disdainfully at the magazine. “It’s exhausting on us, and we’re just his family. Imagine how hard it is on him.”

“Yeah, supermodels can be so tiring.”

“Actually,” he said coldly, “I believe they can be.”

She bit her lip. Okay, so he was either a horribly jealous twin or a protective brother. Given that he was wearing a pink polo and had a glitter barrette in his car, she guessed he was a family-man, deeply into the defense of his absent brother and looking forward to a tea party just as much as he dreaded it.

“Having never hung out with supermodels, I’ll defer to your judgement.” She held out her hand. “Pax?”

His expression softened, the brackets around his mouth eased, and he reached out with his large and very handsome hand.

They connected. Palm to palm and eye to eye. She felt the heat from his skin, saw the interest in his eyes, and then watched his nostrils flare slightly as his gaze dropped to her lips.

He was thinking about a kiss. So was she, but now came the decision moment. Did she? Didn’t she? She barely knew the guy.

She was still deciding when her body took over. Her lips suddenly felt dry and without even realizing it, she wet them with her tongue. Oops. Or not oops, because this was vacation after all. There were worse ways to pass the time while waiting for a tow truck.

He tightened his grip, tugging her closer as he stepped into kissing range. She tilted her head up, he angled his down.

And the clouds broke open, drenching them in seconds.

…

Mike Smithson generally thought of himself as a smart man. He had a graduate degree in engineering from the University of Michigan. He had a really good job at Caterpillar involving highly complex machinery. And he managed to do difficult Sudoku puzzles all the time. But right now, his brain was reduced to one thought:

Anna Lopez had some really good curves.

If he worked his brain really hard, he could drum up another one: Rain was bad when it interrupts a near-kiss.

The sudden downpour had sent them both diving for cover. She’d ducked into her car, but her passenger seats were filled with luggage and stuff. So he’d run to his car, then the tow truck had shown up. Damn Joe for being fast. Then there was all the business with her car and he hadn’t been able to get her alone except for the 2 minute drive to the B&B. They’d barely managed to get beyond their chattering teeth before arriving at Miranda’s Place B&B. And now that Miss Lopez was dripping wet and standing in the lobby as she handed over her credit card to Bethany, the B&B manager.

He stood a step to the side, passing the time by noticing how Anna’s wet clothing clung to her body. Which circled him back to the first thought: she had some very nice curves.

He tried to be a gentleman and not look. Tried and failed because, hell he was a red-blooded male. The woman had a lush figure that made his dick throb with lust. Nice breasts, tight waist, rounded hips and legs long enough to look good on her frame. Plus she had some muscles on her which he always found appealing. If her lips weren’t turning blue, he’d throw her over his shoulder and take her back to his mancave to ravish her for the next decade.

Come to think of it, he could still do that. After all, there was more than one way to warm a woman’s lips.

Meanwhile, Bethany was handing over a key to room 1. It had been reserved by his brother, but the douche bag had cancelled at the last minute. Good for Anna because she got his room. Not so good was the frisson of worry that skated down Mike’s spine whenever he thought of the last second change.

Less than a week ago, his brother had confessed on the phone how much he needed the break from the media attention. He’s said he missed the family, hated that he’d left right after their father’s funeral six months ago, and now really needed to kick back for a bit. Hell, the man had said he’d missed Aunt Tilde, and wasn’t that a sign of the impending apocalypse? And then, bam, two days ago he’d cancelled his trip without explanation.

Well, Mike had called him about a dozen times until he’d managed to grab the guy for five minutes. Five minutes while the soccer star was hiding out in the women’s bathroom, no less, as he tried to duck some journalist.

Mike’s first words had been
What the hell?

His twin’s answer: I’m dying. I hate this. I don’t even like playing anymore.

And again, Mike responded with a big
WTF?

The answer, as far as he’d been able to piece together, was that fans were making his brother nuts. Rick was being stalked not just by the usual paparazzi, but by a few dozen lonely women. And not the usual I’d-love-to-bed-the-superstar woman, but insane women who hid out in his garage or chased him through hotels. The kind that boiled bunnies as a warning.

The team had tripled security but Rick wasn’t the kind of guy to take 24/7 supervision easily. Add in a knee injury and a demanding supermodel girlfriend, and his brother was clearly buckling under the strain.

Mike had known a little of this, of course. He’d been the one to throw out the press at their father’s funeral, and then again at his brother-in-law’s memorial. Every one of the immediate family had been interviewed for people-behind-the-athlete stories, but at the time, Rick had thought that all publicity was good.

Not so anymore, and he very much feared that his brother was melting down from the strain. He’d meant to talk with his twin this week, but then the douche had cancelled. Which left Mike with an extra measure of concern and a horn-dog’s thrill that Anna would be one thin wall away from his amorous attention.

And now, thank heaven, Bethany was finishing up the check in paperwork. Finally, he’d able to get Anna alone. Maybe re-establish some of the flirty banter they had going before. He smiled as he grabbed her two massive suitcases. “Let me carry these to your room,” he offered.

“Thank--”

“Michael! There you are! Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

Mike winced at his Aunt Tilde’s strident tone. Jesus, wasn’t it the woman’s nap time? One glance at the clock told him he had seriously misjudged his schedule. Seeing Anna’s car towed to the garage before driving her here had thrown him off. It was, in fact, just past early dinner and time for Board Game night.

Shit.

He plastered on a smile. “Aunt Tilde, how nice to see you.”

“My goodness, you’re both soaked!” she cried as she waved him back from the obligatory kiss. “You should change out of those clothes immediately. You remember when you were a kid and thought swimming in the lake was a good idea? Parasites!” the woman exclaimed loud enough for the whole of St. Louis to hear the tale. “It was disgusting, let me tell you. And all because he hadn’t showered--”

“Thank you, Aunt Tilde,” he said before the woman could start giving more details. He really didn’t need Anna thinking of him with a parasitic rash. He glanced at Anna. “I was ten. The infection is long gone.”

“But he learned his lesson, I tell you--” began his aunt.

“Thanks, Aunt Tilde. We better get upstairs and to that shower.” He hefted Anna’s two bags--no mean feat considering the weight of the things--and started up the stairs.

“But I haven’t met this young woman--”

“I’m Anna--”

Mike fake sneezed as he not-so-subtly maneuvered Anna up the stairs. Sadly, his aunt was nothing if not chatty.

“Oh dear. I hope you’re not coming down with something serious. My friend Linda had a sneeze and the next day, dead as a doornail.”

Mike didn’t respond. What he did do was shoot Anna a desperate plea to move faster. Her response: she giggled. She tried to hide it, but failed. And while her eyes were dancing with laughter, he all but shoved her up the stairs.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to her room. She fumbled slightly with the key but got it open quickly enough. Then he ducked inside to set down her suitcases which had to be lined with lead. But once they were on the ground--and he got some feeling back into his fingers--he turned to her and tried to regain the flirty mood from before Mother Nature had turned on them.

“Anna--” he began only to be interrupted by his mother’s voice. Oh double shit.

“Mikey! Tilde said you have a stuffed nose. I’m going to run to the store to get some vapor rub. I’ll be back in two shakes and then I can put some on your chest just like when you were a kid.” He heard her top the stairs and start banging on his door. “Mike? Mikey, are you in there honey?”

Mike made a strangled noise, then rushed to the Anna’s door. If he didn’t respond soon, his mother would call the paramedics thinking he’d passed out.

“I’m in here, mom. Just helping Anna with her luggage.”

“Oh! There you are dear--” his mother said as she appeared in Anna’s doorway. “As I said, I think I’ll pop out and get you some rub--”

“It’s storming, mom. And you don’t drive so well in the rain.”

She pulled herself up to her full 5’ 2” height. “Well, I never! As if a little thing like that would stop me from getting medicine for my son!”

“I don’t need any rub--” he tried.

“Don’t be macho dear. Stubborn men all die young of colon cancer, you know. “

“Mom, I don’t have--”

Anna quickly interposed herself. “I think I have a solution,” she said, her voice trembling on the edge of laughter. She quickly unzipped her suitcase and popped open a plastic bag of toiletries. In it, she pulled out a tube of IcyHot. “I know it’s not menthol, but this will probably work to prevent … prevent…
ah
–
achoo!
”

“Goodness dear! What was Mike thinking making you stand around dripping wet? Quick, quick, into the shower! And you, too Mike! Come on. Let the girl get undressed.”

His mother had nails like talons as gripped his arm and tugged. He could have resisted. Truthfully, he could have picked his mother up bodily and set her outside the door. But he really shouldn’t do that to a woman in her seventies. Which meant he had to allow her to pull him out of the room.

“Anna, how about I take you out for dinner--”

“No, no Michael! Not in this storm. Besides, you promised Darla a tea party and she’s been waiting all afternoon.”

He groaned. He had promised. Meanwhile Anna winced on his behalf.

“Do you have another pink shirt?” she asked. “You can’t wear that one. It’s sopped.”

God, no. He didn’t.

She laughed, actually laughed at him. “I guess that means you’ll have to wear the barrette. “

“I forgot it in the car,” he sigh, only half regretting the mistake. “And I’m not going out in a thunderstorm just for a--”

“Not to worry!” Anna said with an evil grin. “I saw it there and grabbed it just before we got out.” She popped open her purse and drew it out. “Here, let me.”

And then the most exciting woman he’d met in a decade stretched up on her tip toes to put a sparkly pink barrette in his hair. He felt like a freaking idiot, but she and his mother clapped their hands in delight.

“Someone get a camera!” his mother cried.

“Got it!” Anna said as she whipped out her phone and pointed. The flash nearly blinded him. “Does he have a facebook page?”

That was it. That was the final tipping point as he lost his temper. “Don’t you dare!”

“No problem,” she said with a giggle. “I’ll post it on mine. Anyone who cares can look there.”

Great. Public humiliation combined with an act of nature. Par for the course during a family reunion, he supposed. But what he absolutely refused to do was suffer these indignities while planning a seduction. There had to be some way to escape his family while he spent time with Anna. But before he could think of one, Aunt Tidle’s loud voice cut through the room.

“Is he showered yet? Darla has the teaset all laid out.”

God. Five minutes to ask her out to dinner. That’s all he needed. Five minutes without interruption. “Anna--” he began, but she shook her head.

“Go shower,” she said firmly. “Be with your family. I’m wiped anyway and just want to go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“But--”

His mother tugged on his arm. “Come along, Michael. You both need to get out of your wet clothes.”

“What are you all doing in here?” Tilde asked

Bloodyfuckinghell! He planted his feet, he shook off his mother, and he turned to face Anna. He took a breath, determined to get the words out. But then he stopped as any words he’d planned suddenly felt very lame. Especially as everyone looked at him. All three women (Tilde had joined the party) were staring at him with varying degrees of patient expectation.

Shit.

“Anna,” he began, choosing his words carefully.