The Right Twin (Times Two Book 2) Page 9

  “How’d you even find me?” he asked.

  Giving him an oh, please! look, she said, “Seeing how this block is the only place for about fifty square miles where you can spend an entire afternoon antiquing, it wasn’t too hard. Find any of your animals?”

  “Not yet, but I have high hopes of Poppy hooking me up.” He winked.

  And Sarah fell a little deeper under his spell.

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK?” she asked an hour later in Past Treasures, trying on yet another funky vintage hat. The pink wool pillbox featured pink-and-white tulle trim, plus what Sarah suspected might be real flamingo feathers.

  He sort of smiled. “Nice.”

  “You really think so? A few of my gal pals and I sometimes wear hats when we go out for Friday-night drinks. I know it sounds goofy, but it’s fun.”

  “The fun factor isn’t in dispute,” he said. “But in all honesty—and please know this comes from a good place in my heart—that particular model isn’t you.”

  For a millisecond she pouted. But then it dawned on her that she’d just been given an amazing gift, and tears sprang to her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you like it that much, maybe you could cut your hair so that it worked better.”

  “This isn’t about the stupid hat,” she said, setting it back on the rack. “It’s about the way, just now, you were honest with me. I never thought I’d trust another man again. And yet…here you are.”

  “It’s just a hat,” he said. “You shouldn’t read too much into my opinion.”

  “I know, but—”

  He kissed her. Nothing fancy—at least not on the outside—but what that sweet pressing of his lips against hers did to her insides? Wow.

  “Sorry,” he said, his expression more stunned than apologetic. “I didn’t mean to do that. Not that I wouldn’t want to kiss you, because I do, but…”

  On her tiptoes, she kissed him back. “There. Now we’re even.” Never mind that her heart was pounding. And that she could hardly breathe.

  “Even works for me,” he said with a devilishly sexy grin. “Now, what were you saying?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Wanna start over?”

  “In what regard?” Her pulse still racing, Sarah very much wished to start over in every regard. Starting with using her real name. She sensed he was such an honest, good soul. What kind of person was she to return his honesty with lie upon lie?

  “Like maybe when this weekend’s over, we could meet up again. Only not with you as my innkeeper but as friends.”

  “I can still be your friend and innkeeper.”

  “Oh, I know. But this way I won’t feel dirty about it.”

  “Dirty?” Oh, God. Had he seen dust bunnies, a smudged spoon or a toilet-bowl ring that she’d missed? Sadie was already going to be upset with her for kissing a guest, but if his accommodations had been less than perfect on top of kissing, well, in Sadie’s uptight book, there was just no excuse. “What’s that supposed to mean? I run a very clean establishment.”

  “I know. All I’m saying is that right now, with me paying you and all to sleep under your roof, something about this whole thing feels a little scandalous.”

  “Thing—meaning us?”

  “Exactly. Only there really isn’t even an us to discuss, you know. More like a future us. That is, if you’d want there to be?”

  She nodded. Smiled up at him. But her throat was too tight for words.

  Oh, she’d love them to have a future, during which they could explore at their leisure the attraction that was brewing between them. Only problem was that once she came clean with him, would he even still speak to her, let alone kiss her?

  Chapter Eight

  “Make it quick,” Hale said over the roar of revving engines. “I’ve only got ten minutes before the start of my next race.”

  “It’s like this,” Heath said from the window seat in his room. “You know Sadie, right?”

  “I don’t know her know her.”

  “You get what I mean.”

  “Time’s a wastin’, bro. What’s up?”

  “I kissed her, man. And I want to do it again, only—”

  “You what? Please tell me too many exhaust fumes have me not hearing right. Surely I didn’t just hear you say you kissed the woman whose inn I’m supposed to be reviewing. The very much engaged woman I’m supposed to be reviewing.”

  “She’s not getting married. The guy turned out to be a lying bum. Just like Tess—only with cojones.”

  “If it’s true that she’s single, I’m happy for you. But seriously, dude, probe a little deeper next week. As for this weekend, she’s off-limits, got it?”

  “What do you mean probe deeper? How much deeper does it get than going to the source? She told me to my face she broke it off with the guy.”

  “Again, that’s swell, but you made a promise. No fraternizing. Not with Sadie Connelly. This is my career we’re talking about. If anyone ever found out we switched, that’d be a hard enough bullet for me to take. But if it also came out that not only did I not do my own review but that the guy portraying me slept with my reviewee?” He made a choking sound. “It’d be lights-out for my day job.”

  “But, Hale,” Heath complained, standing up to pace the highly polished maple floor. “I seriously like this woman. If I told her the truth, I’m sure she’d…”

  “You so much as hint at the truth with her,” Hale warned, “and we’re not brothers.”

  “YOU LOOK BEAT,” SARAH said when Heath took a stool at the inn’s bar. The rest of the inn’s ambience was light and airy, but in here, in keeping with the old-world pub theme, the setting was suitably dark and atmospheric. Suiting Heath’s mood just fine. A rowdy group of six sat in the far corner, while several couples occupied intimate tables lining the wall. One lone woman had her back to the nearest of three velvet-draped windows. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he said, forcing a smile while once again lying through his teeth. Sadie had already been hurt so badly. Sure, at the moment they were just friends, but at the rate he’d been lying to her, once he was finally able to come clean, would she even want to talk to him? “Nothing, that is, that one of your dark beers can’t cure.”

  “Coming right up,” she said with a wink.

  He took a long swig. “After loafing all afternoon, I figured you’d be elbow-deep in dinner prep. What’s up?”

  “Hey, I wasn’t loafing,” she protested, swiping at the counter with a damp rag, “but engaging in guest relations.”

  “Call it what you want,” he said with a teasing grin, “but if I don’t get a damn good dinner—” and a couple dozen more kisses for dessert “—you’d better believe management’s going to hear about it.”

  “Hear about what?” Mrs. Young wandered up to the bar.

  “Sadie here is making a feast. I was, um, just telling her that if dinner tastes as great as lunch, then I’ll have to report her to the management.”

  “But she is management, dear.”

  He and Sarah shared a look.

  “Mrs. Young,” Sarah asked, “what can I get for you?”

  “White Zinfandel, please.” Nodding over her shoulder at the crowd, she said in a hushed tone, “Who are all of those people? I was under the impression the inn was quiet and only had six rooms.”

  “It’s very quiet,” Sarah assured her, handing her the wine. “Most of these folks are just here for drinks and dinner. Although, as of this afternoon, all six rooms are booked. Four by you regulars,” she said with an easy smile, “and one by that couple kissing over there. Then the other by Gretchen Oliver.”

  “Wonder why she’s all alone?” the widow asked. “Mr. Peters, you should go talk to her. Make her feel welcome.”

  He blanched. Not that he had anything against making a woman happy, but at the moment only one woman in the room interested him, and that was their hostess.

  “Mrs. Young,” Sarah said, “the thought is awfully sweet
of you, but I’m pretty sure the woman is an undercover reviewer for Zodor’s.”

  Heath choked on his latest swig. “Wh-what?”

  “Oh, dear,” the widow said, patting his back. “Are you okay?”

  “F-fine,” he croaked.

  “Sure?” Sarah asked. “Want some water?”

  “No, no,” he said, urging her along with her story. “What makes you think she’s from Zodor’s? That’s a pretty prestigious publication, isn’t it?”

  “Only the best inn-and-hotel guide in the country,” Mrs. Young said. “Getting five of their coveted silver spoons guarantees an inn’s success.”

  “Really?” Heath said with mock surprise.

  “Oh, yes,” the widow said. “If the Blueberry Inn were to receive five spoons, our Sadie would be so busy that none of us would ever again be able to speak with her casually like this.”

  Sarah had now wiped the same spot on the counter for a full thirty seconds.

  Understandably, Heath was freaked out by the notion that she thought the mystery woman was from Zodor’s. But what did she have to be upset about? Sure, getting reviewed was stressful, but could there be anything more to her suddenly pensive mood? Did he dare hope the lovely Ms. Sadie was a tad jealous because of the widow’s suggestion that he make a new female friend?

  “You really think my, um, business would increase that much?” Sarah asked the older woman.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I guess I’d better see if anyone else—especially our single new guest—needs a refill.”

  “Want help?” Heath asked for some unfathomable reason. Maybe guilt? Maybe because she suddenly looked wide-eyed and overwhelmed, and because he, not the mystery woman, was really the person holding the fate of her inn in his hands?

  With a light shake of her head, she cast him a faint smile. “You’re a dear for asking, but I’ve got everything under control.”

  Mrs. Young said, “If you ask me, the best way to ensure a flawless review is with a little romance. Sadie, dear, I know it’s none of my business, but accept this young man’s offer. Let him help by wooing the lady in question. Not only will she have fun but he will, too. It’s a win-win for everyone.”

  “IT’S A WIN-WIN FOR everyone,” Sarah mocked under her breath. Taking her frustrations out on the poor carrot lodged beneath her butcher knife, she sliced and diced and vowed to give her twin a few of her more pointed thoughts just as soon as she returned.

  “Careful,” urged Dahlia Sky, the guest chef Sadie had recommended. “You’ll bruise their auras.”

  “Sure. Sorry.”

  The blond twenty-something chef was supposedly a legend in macrobiotics, and from what Sarah had seen she was doing a pretty amazing job with dinner. But with fresh daisies wound through the four braids that dangled down her back and a pale yellow chef’s hat and matching dress, she wasn’t exactly the norm. Which was probably the reason Sadie had instructed Sarah to keep the butcher paper over the window as before.

  While the chef returned to preparing a Japanese-inspired dish that smelled strongly of ginger, Sarah sulked.

  About a number of topics.

  Foremost was the undeniable fact that instead of being stuck back here she’d much rather be by Shane’s side. Second, for orchestrating a seating arrangement that put Shane alongside Gretchen Oliver—aka Undercover Zodor’s Reviewer—Mrs. Young was next on Sarah’s tongue-lashing list.

  She knew the woman meant well and all, but not only was there potential disaster in Shane inadvertently sharing details of his stay that Sarah would rather not have mentioned, what if he actually enjoyed the woman’s company? Worse yet, what if Gretchen had done her homework and knew that Sadie was happily engaged? What if she and Shane compared notes?

  Head spinning, Sarah tried focusing on the zucchini that Dahlia had asked her to mince, but how could she chop when her head—and Sadie’s—were potentially on the chopping block?

  She’d already begun formulating an explanation for the weekend’s twin switch to Shane. Her plan was to break it to him in stages. First, she’d let him know that Sadie was her twin and then she’d let the whole story unfold naturally. Maybe even add a comic spin. Lord knew, if she heard a friend share this nutty story over a bottle of Chianti, Sarah would find plenty to laugh about.

  Being such an honest and caring man, surely Shane would see how Sarah had been forced into this situation. Never would she have willingly lied to him.

  Sarah glanced up and caught Dahlia wincing. “Careful. Food is a gift. Our dearest friend. Never should you so callously wound its wholesome goodness.”

  Scowling, Sarah vowed that when Sadie got back, for having put her through such emotional stress, she’d be the one who was wounded!

  EYES MOMENTARILY closed, Heath savored the amazing blend of flavors that came with his first bite of Sadie’s spring-roll appetizers. Wow, could the woman cook—almost as great as she kissed. Not that their all-too-brief lip-lock had given him a full sample of her talents. Just that, like this predinner treat, the kiss had been a hint of good things to come. Assuming he ever escaped his current companions. To accommodate the extra dinner guests from town, he and the rest of the inn’s overnight guests were sharing a table. Mrs. Young had insisted that he and the chatty woman he now dubbed Gabby Gretchen be seated side by side.

  This would have been a bad thing had he wanted to talk himself, but since he didn’t have much to say that didn’t involve Sadie, it was probably just as well he kept his mouth shut. Plus, the downtime gave him plenty of opportunity to formulate just the right tone for the inn’s glowing review.

  It troubled him that Sadie was visibly shaken by having a reviewer present. If it weren’t for the stupid promise he’d made his brother, he’d come clean with her. Assure her that not only would the weekend net her a great review but a great guy. At least he hoped she still thought he was great after he let her in on the little matter of being duped.

  “So, Gretchen,” the widow said, daintily pressing a green cloth napkin to her lips, “how is it that a lovely woman like you is all alone on a Saturday night?” She spoke so faintly she could barely be heard above the other diners’ chatter and the soft classical music.

  “Lovers’ quarrel,” the green-eyed brunette said. The woman was good-looking, but Heath considered himself taken. At least until Sadie learned the truth about him, at which point he’d no doubt be single again. “It’s just as well, though. I don’t mind being alone. Gives me time to gather my thoughts.”

  The widow nodded and made a few sympathetic clucking noises.

  “You know, though,” Mr. Helsing noted, “sometimes the best medicine is a fresh dose of the dog that bit you. Our Shane just happened to have been unlucky in love himself. Told us his date backed out on him at the last minute.”

  Heath choked on his latest sip of the night’s second martini. “Um, with all due respect, I’m sure Gretchen here needs her space. Not that you’re not lovely,” he tagged on, “just that all this matchmaking has gotten a little out of hand.”

  “I agree,” the brunette said. “Not only that, but Shane’s not exactly my type.”

  “Oh?” Mrs. Standridge said, eyebrows raised. “Do you prefer a more rugged blue-collar sort?”

  Hello? Heath wanted to shout. I’m sitting right here.

  Spring roll poised at her lips, Gretchen said, “Actually, I can go for either color collar—as long as the collar’s attached to a blouse.”

  Mrs. Young swallowed hard. “Oh.” After a few more seconds, her blue eyes widened. “Ooooooh.”

  The subject immediately changed to cruise wear—was it becoming too informal?

  Having never been on a cruise, Heath happily munched four more spring rolls. Man, they were good. Someday he’d have to get Sadie to make him a batch of his own.

  “Don’t you agree, Shane?” asked Mr. Standridge.

  “Huh?” He glanced up, only to find all eyes focused on him.

  “Haven’t you been payi
ng the slightest bit of attention?” Mrs. Helsing released a put-upon sigh.

  “I have, ma’am, but the predinner snack is so, uh, scrumptious I guess that I lost focus.” Probably had something to do with his fantasy of rolling one of those spring rolls along Sadie’s flat stomach, then licking off the sweet sauce.

  “The gist of it is,” Mr. Standridge said with his fingers steepled beneath his chin, “that from a man’s point of view, would you be more comfortable wearing a tuxedo or a suit?”

  “Oh, a tuxedo. Definitely.” Having apparently answered correctly, at least to the older man’s way of thinking, left Heath free to return to fantasyland. Now that he’d had a few minutes to think more about Sadie and her bare stomach, blood rushed uncomfortably to another part of his body that seriously had no opinion on tuxedos—unless it involved everyone else in the room hitting the road so that he and Sadie could have the place to themselves. Yeah…she’d fit nicely on top of the table. Wonder if it’d bear his weight, too?

  “Mr. Peters,” Mrs. Young prodded. “We’re waiting.”

  “I, um…” Heath cleared his throat. Dear Lord, what was he doing? One more mental image like that and he’d have to excuse himself, then run upstairs for a cold shower. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “With my cruise-ship-surprise-buffet theory as to why the kitchen window’s been covered?” Mrs. Standridge asked, eyebrows raised optimistically, as if she stood to win a prize.

  “Absolutely,” Heath said, shifting to a more comfortable position. “Sounds absolutely plausible.”

  “I’ll bet our Sadie’s preparing a magical chocolate forest,” Mrs. Young suggested, “complete with deer and squirrel families and a gurgling chocolate stream into which to dip strawberries, bananas and the like.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Mrs. Standridge said, “but highly unlikely, seeing how she’d need more prep space than she’s got. After all, I hardly think it likely she’d set up a sumptuous buffet in the kitchen, then expect us to partake there.”

  The door bumped open, and the same young woman who’d served lunch hustled through bearing a silver platter and a red face.