The Right Twin (Times Two Book 2) Page 5

  Poor guy. It angered Sarah to think of the misery that woman must’ve put him through. “It’s okay,” she said. “I totally understand.”

  “But anyway,” Heath said with a sigh, “back to the story. The morning after our big celebration, over Starbucks and bagels, Tess told me she was really happy that I’d finished fleshing out my newest game but that I wasn’t her type. Next thing I know, The Kill debuted under Jamestown’s label.” Shaking his head, he added, “They seriously botched it, too. Rush job with crap graphics and a million bugs. The worst part isn’t that I could have made that game into one of the biggest sellers of all time, or even that she stole it from me. The worst part is how I’d trusted her.” He tapped his index finger to his temple. “When your only product comes from your head, messing you up emotionally can really take its toll.”

  “I’m sure,” she said, sympathy building for this man she hardly knew and yet felt as if she’d known for a lifetime.

  “Since then, I’ve had a seriously tough time trusting anyone. You know, not feeling as if everyone’s out to get me or has an ulterior motive behind the nice things they do or say. When you brought me that bottle of water this afternoon, my first inclination was to wonder what you wanted in return.”

  “But, I promise, I was only—”

  “I know, you were being nice. Which is what nice people do. But after getting mixed up with Tess, I forgot there’s another whole part of the world out there that doesn’t lie, cheat or steal.

  “Another confession. During dinner tonight, I had a tough time believing you could look so good and yet produce a meal of that caliber.” He chuckled. “When Mom does Thanksgiving, you’d think she’d been underwater for a couple hours, then dragged behind a horse through gravy-filled ruts.”

  While sharing a laugh with her guest Sarah couldn’t help but think that that was how she truly looked after fixing even an ordinary weeknight dinner. Which was why she usually ordered takeout. On the inside, her tender heart hardened at the thought that lying to Shane Peters as she was made her essentially no better than his ex-girlfriend.

  Oh, sure, she was only doing this to protect her sister. But now that the threat of being reviewed wasn’t hanging over her head, she should come clean with the guy. Without Sadie’s permission, however, she couldn’t.

  Seeing how Sadie would no doubt call before sunrise to make certain everything was okay, Sarah vowed to herself that as soon as she’d talked to her twin, she’d reveal her true identity, be honest.

  Gladdened by the fact that this blossoming friendship would soon be free of lies, she teased, “Your mom would strike you from the Christmas list for dissing her like that.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say her looks in any way affected the food, did I? Everything tastes great. It’s just that by the time she’s done, she doesn’t look half as together as you did.”

  With a playful pose, Sarah teased, “You think I look good, huh?”

  “Strictly in a professional sense.” His rogue’s wink had her pulse racing. Between those flashes of dimple that showed with each grin and the blueberry-colored eyes, Shane Peters was causing Sarah to forget her own troubles. In fact, she was well on her way to becoming a smitten kitten.

  “Good,” she said. “Good, that is, that you’re professional. I appreciate that.”

  “Likewise,” he said with an earnest expression. Leaning forward and taking her hands in his—and in the process setting off fireworks of awareness and hope—he said, “Seriously, thanks for listening. Since Tess and I broke up, I’ve had a tough time reeducating myself as to the fact that not every woman’s intent on running my life. I hardly know you, yet something about your eyes, your smile, tells me you could never cause that much pain.”

  Grimacing, Sarah replied, “Seeing how I pretty much feel the same way about my ex, I’d propose a toast, but at the moment I’m fresh out of anything to use.” She raised her empty wineglass in a salute, praying humor would conceal her galloping heart. Dear Lord, she couldn’t wait to tell him the truth.

  At the very least, he ought to know her real name.

  “Want me to head back to the bar for a fresh bottle?”

  Yes, squeaked the forgotten voice of the woman who actually enjoyed a man’s company. But the part of her that was committed to portraying Sadie politely said instead, “Thank you so much, but I’ve got a big day planned for tomorrow and I should get to sleep.”

  “You have to get up early for all that kitchen work?”

  “Yep. Chopping and dicing and kneading. Then, after breakfast, the housekeeping begins. You haven’t met Kim Foster—she’s the person I thought you were when you helped me with the towels. Anyway, she gets here at the crack of dawn and she sets a tough toilet-scrubbing pace to keep up with.”

  “Sounds exhausting.”

  He had no idea!

  “What led you to this kind of work instead of some nice, dull office job?”

  What led me here? Sarah suppressed a laugh, hating the fact that she was once again on the verge of lying through her teeth. “I, um, always liked playing house as a kid. Hosting elaborate tea parties for my dolls and my friends. When I was a little older, I was always rearranging and decorating my room. What can I say? I love making people feel warm and relaxed when they’re in my home.”

  Nodding, her companion said, “From the happy campers I played cards with, it looks like you’re doing a great job.”

  “Thank you. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

  “You’re welcome.” He pushed himself to his feet. “By the way, I’ll send my bill for suffering through two hours of cards with the Standridges and the Helsings. Now, that widow Young, she’s a hottie.” He grinned and then stepped off the back porch and into the night.

  Sarah knew she should get to bed. Even with Helga and a full substitute crew arriving early, she’d still have to be sharp to meet Sadie’s rigid expectations.

  But then again, maybe not.

  Now that the inn was for sure not being reviewed, surely her sister could relax her standards enough to allow Sarah this shot at happiness? It’d been so long since she’d even thought it possible to fall for another man, and yet now she realized it wasn’t just possible but entirely probable.

  With that in mind, Sarah couldn’t resist lingering a while longer in the floral-scented night air, settling her feet up on the bench beside her and hugging her knees.

  She’d have liked nothing better than to have opened that bottle of wine and then stayed outside talking with Shane Peters until they both got the yawns. Too bad that for the time being, until she’d been given the all-clear by her twin, what she’d like to do and what she was allowed to do were two very different things.

  SATURDAY MORNING Heath found himself searching for Sadie Connelly from the moment he left his bedroom. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on why, but something about the woman lured him like the night crawlers he’d brought for an afternoon’s fishing on the lake.

  Granted, he’d hoped to catch a nice bass and not a woman. But then, wait a minute. Seeing how he was the one being drawn to her, maybe his logic was backward. Kind of like his senses, since in the capacity of his brother, he had no business looking at anything but the woman’s pastries.

  Why, after the hell he’d been through with Tess, had he finally met a woman he was not only attracted to but who could even relate to his misery in having come out on the losing end of relationship roulette? Why did she have to be off-limits?

  Heading down the mammoth front staircase, Heath realized that at no point during Hale’s initial endless speech about what he could and could not do had he ever mentioned not hooking up with the inn’s comely proprietress.

  Duh. Wasn’t it kind of obvious?

  Seeing how, if the two of them did end up together and then Heath recommended a five-spoons rating, it could be construed as not playing fair. Even if the inn totally deserved it. But then, with Sadie, nothing was fair. Starting with the fact that he suspected that, as much a
s he’d like getting back into the dating pool with a quick fling, nothing about her would be quick.

  She was a lady through and through, and as such she deserved consideration above and beyond the kind a “liberated” woman only out for a single wild night might expect.

  By the time he reached the sunny dining room, all the other guests were present, including Mrs. Young, who waved a yellow linen napkin in his direction, gesturing for him to sit across from her.

  “I’ve wondered what’s been keeping you,” she said as he pulled out the chair opposite hers. While he would have enjoyed nothing better than dining alone—preferably on the stone patio, away from the blond temptation who was just beyond the kitchen door—in his role as the reviewer, he figured that joining the widow was the professional thing to do. “I thought maybe after breakfast we might play another round of cards.”

  “It’d be my honor,” he said. “But could I have a rain check until later this afternoon? After breakfast I was hoping to get in some fishing.”

  “Oh,” the widow said with a sage nod. “Of course. I hadn’t realized fishing was an option here.”

  “Where there’s water, there’s usually fish. At least that’s my motto.”

  Hands to her chest, the older woman leaned back and giggled. “My Charlie used to say the same thing. Hope you catch a big one.”

  Mercifully, breakfast moved along, but unfortunately with a freckle-faced teen doing the serving instead of Sadie.

  The conversation was pleasant enough, with lots of cute snapshots of the widow’s kids and grandkids over a meal of fancy eggs with a rich cheese sauce, along with prettily cut pieces of melon and a seriously decent potato side dish. Thick bacon and flaky croissants were big hits, as well. All of which made Heath more confident than ever that he’d made the right decision in going fishing. The inn’s five spoons were a given.

  “Thank you,” Heath’s dining companion said, setting her napkin beside her plate, then pushing back her chair. “This has been delightful, but after all this food so early, and with you off on an excursion, I think I’ll lie down.”

  “You’re not sick, are you?” he asked, placing his own napkin on the table and eyeing her with concern. An ill guest wasn’t a good thing, and he’d probably need to make a note of it in Hale’s little black book.

  “Not a bit. Just feeling fat and lazy.” She smiled, patting his shoulder on her way out of the room. The Standridges and the Helsings had already left, leaving Heath on his own, at least until Sadie hustled out of the kitchen looking more like a frazzled chef than a genteel innkeeper.

  “Oh,” she said, hands against her flushed cheeks. Her loose ponytail was streaked with flour. And her jeans and white T-shirt, covered by an oversize utilitarian white apron weren’t exactly designer fare, although on her they looked great.

  He thought about how long it had been since he’d had a Saturday-night sleepover, waking up Sunday morning with someone to share breakfast in bed. Was Sadie the type who’d occasionally be happy with a Pop-Tart or a bagel? Or was she one of those unique individuals who rose every day actually wanting to produce a big breakfast spread?

  “I thought you’d have been done eating a long time ago.”

  “I was,” he said, rising from his seat. “Just been hanging with Mrs. Young. She seemed lonely.”

  “That’s awfully sweet of you,” she said, adjusting her ponytail.

  “What can I say? I’m a sweet guy.” He shot her what he hoped was a semiattractive grin. Of course, it had been so long since he’d thought about using any of his male charm, who knew if he could even pull it off? Not that he was supposed to be charming the woman, but she was so cute that it was tough focusing on anything other than the adorable flour smudge just to the left of her chin.

  Grinning, she shook her head.

  “You disagree?”

  “It’s not that I disagree,” she said. “It’s just that…”

  “Uh-huh. I’m so charming I’ve got you flustered, huh?”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re incorrigible?”

  “My mama.”

  “Figures.” Her teasing smile told him he must be on the right track. “Only a mother could appreciate the likes of you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Only that you, Mr. Shane Peters, are a flirt.” She sidestepped him to bus the Helsings’ table.

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  Stacking the dirty dishes, she said, “Depends on who you’re flirting with.”

  “How about you?”

  “Mmm…gimme a sec to think about it.” Arms full, she sashayed right past him and back through the swinging kitchen door, leaving him alone with his thoughts in a fog of what he now recognized as Essence of Sadie. An exotic yet homey blend of eggs and bacon and something sugary and sweet with a hint of floral sophistication. But not fancy floral. More like simple. Like a just-picked daffodil. Damn, but he was starting to like this woman.

  Which, considering how he was supposed to be his brother, presented a problem. Not necessarily an insurmountable problem. Just something he’d have to finagle his way through.

  His hostess popped back through the door empty-handed. “You still here?”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “How about dreaming up some new ways to charm me?” she sassed, already at work on the Standridges’ table.

  “Interesting,” he said, tapping his lips with his index finger. “But seeing how the sun is shining, I figured on something a little more outdoorsy.”

  “How about this—you make a list of ways to charm me while you’re outdoors.” She cast him a supersized cornball grin.

  “Sounds doable, but I’d still rather fish. Wanna come?”

  “Fish?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Um…” She nibbled her lower lip. “Sounds like big fun, but once I finish up here there’s laundry to do and beds to make and lunch to get started on and—”

  “While I’m sure all of that’s necessary in order to have the place in tip-top condition, shouldn’t keeping guests happy be your top priority?”

  “Ordinarily I’d say yes, but if we’re seen together too often, don’t you think the other guests might get jealous?” She’d finished with the last stack of dishes, then turned her back to the kitchen door, using her luscious derriere to bump it open. “I don’t know,” she said with a shake of her head. “It could be bad for business.”

  He trailed after her. “On the other hand, it could be great for business—especially mine. Oh, hey,” he said, finding himself face-to-face with Helga, who was wielding a lethal-looking wooden spoon.

  “No guests in kitchen,” she said with her thick middle-European accent. “Even you, Mr. Handsome.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “No exceptions.”

  “Come on,” Sadie said after leaving her load alongside the sink, dishrag in hand. “I’ll show you the way out.” Back in the dining room, she muttered, “Sorry—again. What Helga lacks in a sense of propriety, she makes up for in being the best assistant ever.”

  “No problem.” Bracing his hands on the back of the nearest chair, he said, “So? Have you thought about it? Going fishing?”

  Sighing, hands on her hips, she said, “As much as I’d love to wile away the afternoon with a fishing pole in one hand and a bologna sandwich in the other, do you honestly think my guests would understand?”

  “The question you must ask yourself is, what’s more important? Those other guests or me?”

  Her expression was unreadable. Until she grinned, then walked away.

  Chapter Five

  On the inn’s back porch, with the cool breeze working wonders on her flushed cheeks, Sarah took a series of deep breaths. Soon, she promised herself, the weekend would be over.

  Translation: her crazy craving to spend time with this man she hardly knew would also be over. And then her life would again be perfect.

  Reality check. Was it actually so perfect?
>
  Sure, work was great, but what else was there? Night after night she sat at home moping about what had happened with Greg. It was not just about what he’d done but about how much she’d hoped he’d been the one. That special one-in-a-million guy with whom she’d happily spend the rest of her life.

  So what did any of that have to do with why she was so upset about Shane Peters asking her to go fishing?

  In her heart she knew by his light, flirty tone that all he wanted was to spend the afternoon with her—not a lifetime. He wasn’t Greg. And she was no longer the person she’d been when she knew Greg. She was no longer trusting and she could now sniff out liars from a hundred yards away.

  That said—or at least thought—why was her pulse still racing?

  Because, plain and simple, she wanted to go fishing. She wanted to chuck her responsibilities at the inn and spend the afternoon and the evening that followed getting to know Shane inside and out. Because he, for the first time since she’d been devastated romantically, had been the only man to make her feel even remotely interested in the opposite sex. Which presented a pesky problem.

  The second the weekend was over, she could come clean with him. But what then? He despised liars. How was she supposed to broach the subject of them maybe going out for drinks or coffee or bowling? Then top off what would undoubtedly be a blissful evening with, Oh, by the way, everything you thought you knew about me? All lies. Right down to my name.

  Yeah. That’d go over real well.

  Especially since her morning call to Sadie hadn’t exactly gone as planned.

  “You want to what?” her twin had screeched. “Absolutely not! You are not going to tell him what we’ve done. He might not be the reviewer, but what if the reviewer just happens to pop in? They do that, you know. You can never be too careful.”

  Sarah, always having been the more logical of the two, didn’t believe for one second that a reviewer was just going to appear. But in that one in a thousand chance that he or she did? Then what? How would she ever forgive herself if her blossoming romance somehow messed up Sadie’s chance to have her inn positively reviewed in a national publication? Not only would Sarah be back at the beginning in her search for a great guy but Sadie would never speak to her again.