What Lies Beneath

by Andrea Laurence

  She was so beautiful it made his heart swell with pride that she was his. So full of life and energy it made him want to share his life with her. To experience it as her partner. Her lover. Alex was right. Will was lost. Despite his best attempts, he’d allowed himself to fall in love. Hopelessly, desperately in love with a woman who made him happy to come home from work every day. Who made him want to live life, not just write about it in the newspaper.

  In that very moment, he had to possess her, heart and soul, and couldn’t wait another moment. Without delay, he slipped off the last of his clothes, his gaze never straying from the feast before him.

  Cynthia watched him anxiously through hooded eyes as he undressed, but her expression changed when she caught sight of his erection jutting proudly toward her. Her moist lips parted softly, and then the look of pleasure washed over her flushed face. With a smile, she crooked her finger at him to join her at last on the bed.

  He’d waited long enough, and he wasn’t about to deny her request.

  * * *

  Cynthia held her breath in anticipation as Will crawled onto the bed and covered her with his muscled body. The warmth of his skin seared across her exposed flesh, and a chill ran down her spine from the pleasurable contrast. He hovered just over her, her aching nipples dragging across his chest, the firm length of his erection grazing her stomach.

  So close and yet so far away. She reached out to touch him, but he pulled back, moving down her body to settle between her legs. His hands ran up her shins, his palms tickling her as they moved higher. He knelt down and followed his hands with his mouth, first planting a warm kiss on the inside of her ankles and then traveling up her calves to the insides of her knees.

  Knees were hardly an erogenous zone, but Cynthia’s whole body was tense and sensitive to his every caress. As he gently parted her thighs, he exposed her moist core and her legs started trembling. She couldn’t stop it, her body so weak with wanting him as his kisses traveled over her inner thighs, his fingertips tracing lazy circles across her skin.

  By the time she could feel his hot breath tickling her dark, feminine curls, she thought even his slightest touch might send her over the edge. Will explored her with his hand first, running along the edge with his finger before slowly slipping it inside of her. Her muscles clamped down around him, desperate to hold him there, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him.

  He leaned in and his tongue struck her sensitive center without fail, the intimate kiss sending waves of pleasure through her body. Cynthia squirmed under his touch, her hips rising up to meet him and then pulling away when the intensity became too much.

  “I need you,” she whispered.

  “You’ll have me,” he said, his voice deep and gruff with arousal. “I want to have a little fun first.”

  This time she whimpered as his fingers and tongue pushed her closer to the edge. She didn’t want to peak without him. She’d admitted to herself tonight that she loved him. She’d exposed herself to him in every way, made herself so vulnerable she almost couldn’t believe it. She wanted her first cries of pleasure as a woman in love to be mingled with his own. “Not without you. Not tonight, Will.”

  Her pleas were finally heard, and he moved back up her body, nestling between her thighs and looking down at her. He reached to the nightstand for a condom, and Cynthia sighed in relief that he’d thought of it when she’d been too overwhelmed with desire to think straight.

  A moment later, he hovered over her, the tip of him pressing gently at her entrance. Without hesitation, he drove into her, and then he lingered—buried deep inside her. It was a powerful feeling, to finally join with the man she loved. So much so she almost had to fight back tears that the connection brought on. The words she longed to say hung on the tip of her tongue, waiting to be uttered, but he started moving inside her, and the time for talking passed.

  Will dropped his weight on to his elbows, pressing his chest against hers. He kissed her, his lips and tongue melding with her own as he gently rocked back and forth. Every inch of their bodies were touching and molding together. Cynthia could feel every flex of his muscles, every shudder of strain as he fought to hold back the tides. But she didn’t want him to do that. She wanted all of him tonight, leaving nothing behind.

  “Love me the way you want to. Don’t hold back,” she said against his jaw.

  Will didn’t answer but buried his face into her neck. His rapid breaths were hot again her skin, his body stiffening to surge forward harder and faster than before. The delicious movement accelerated every impulse running through her nervous system, the pleasurable sparks lighting up all over.

  It wasn’t long before the tight knot of tension in her belly threatened to explode. Cynthia wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched at his back. The change in angle allowed him to drive deeper, a low roar of pleasure echoing into her ear.

  She couldn’t hold back any longer. “Will!” she cried out, as one long, hard stroke sent her over the edge. Her body was racked with convulsions of pleasure, her muscles tightening and pulsating around his firm heat. Her fingertips dug into the muscles of his back, scrambling for purchase as he continued to pound deep inside. At last, his own release exploded, his groan of surrender vibrating against the damp skin of her neck.

  For a few moments, they lay motionless, their bodies a moist tangle of limbs and sheets. Cynthia struggled to draw a full breath into her lungs, but she couldn’t. Her muscles were too tired and her heart too swollen with unspoken emotions. By the time the last throbs of pleasure subsided, she opened her eyes to see Will looking down at her.

  “You,” he said, propping up on one elbow and brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, “were amazing tonight. You were so worried about fitting in with those people, but it was effortless. You were so elegant and graceful. Every woman in that ballroom wanted to wear your clothing and hoped they’d look half as good in them as you did.

  “And all the men…” he continued. “Well, let’s just say I got to live out their fantasies tonight.”

  “I got to live out my fantasy tonight, too.”

  Will smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips. Her body responded to his touch, but her brain chased the heat out of her veins. It was time to sleep, at least for now.

  He reached down to pull the duvet up to cover them, and then tugged Cynthia up to curl her back against his chest. Wrapped in the warmth of the blanket with Will beside her, they fell asleep, the lights still on, their clothes still strewn around the apartment.

  Sometime before dawn, Cynthia woke up, still tucked in Will’s strong embrace. She squirmed slightly to free herself from his grasp and sat up on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice sleepy and rough.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m just thirsty, and I never brushed my teeth. Do you want some water?”

  “No, I’m okay.”

  Cynthia pushed up from the mattress and walked nude into the bathroom. At the doorway, she paused and looked back at Will. She expected to catch a glimpse of him as he fell back asleep, but he was propped up on his elbow. He was watching her walk away, but the expression on his face was not what she was expecting. His brow was furrowed, his gaze burrowing into her backside, of all places.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Will shifted his gaze to her, the intensity only increasing as he studied her face just as thoroughly. “No,” he said pointedly, although his contemplative tone made her wonder if that were really true.

  Cynthia was too sleepy to worry much about it. She went into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She chugged a cup of water, finished removing her makeup and went about her nightly beauty regime. Her body was aching, but fulfilled, and she was eager to crawl back under the covers and sleep in Will’s arms until noon.

  Returning to the bed, she switched off the lights and slipped under the sheets. Will had rolled onto his back and his eyes were closed. She snuggled into
him and laid her head on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, she realized she’d never been so happy. Finding a passion in sewing and design was nothing compared to finding a passion and love for Will. Tonight had been everything she hoped and wished for when she gave him back her engagement ring—a chance for them to start over and be happy together.

  “I love you,” she whispered into the dark once the rise and fall of his breath became steady and even against her and she was certain he was sleeping. Then she turned onto her side and closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep.

  * * *

  Although he was lying in bed with his eyes closed, Will was far from asleep. Ten minutes ago, he would’ve told anyone he was exhausted and content with the woman he loved in his arms. His business was doing well and his love life was better than ever. Somehow, all of that was snatched from him so quickly that he couldn’t feel the pain of it being ripped away at first. There was just a mix of confusion and denial swirling around the sleepy fog of his brain. What he’d just seen was impossible. Incomprehensible. And yet there was no way to deny the truth.

  The rose tattoo was gone.

  He’d hated that thing from the moment she’d gotten it. Cynthia had gone off on a spring break girls’ trip to Cancun their senior year at Yale. Sometime amongst the sun and surf and tequila, she’d decided it would be a great idea to commemorate the trip with a tattoo on her ass.

  It was pretty and well done, but in the end, it was a red rose inked into her left butt cheek. He’d done his best to ignore it over the years, and when their love life fizzled, he’d forgotten it was even there.

  Until it wasn’t.

  When he watched her walk away, the realization hit him like an iron fist to the gut. There was no tattoo. And not even the faintest hint of where one might’ve been removed by a laser without his knowledge. There was nothing. He didn’t know what to say when she asked if something was wrong.

  Yes, by God, something was very wrong. She was not Cynthia Dempsey, and that was a problem.

  In an instant, his entire world came crashing down around him. The best relationship he’d ever had was built on nothing but lies. He could feel it disintegrating around him. Everything she’d said and everything they’d done in the past few weeks meant absolutely nothing.

  Who had he just made love to? This woman, this Cynthia imposter…who was she, and how had she ended up living another person’s life? The doctors said she had amnesia. Did she even know she wasn’t Cynthia? Was this all just one tragic mixup, or had this woman deliberately taken advantage of her circumstances? Was it possible that despite her outward appearance, she was as manipulative as Cynthia?

  All this time he’d been afraid to let his guard down because he didn’t think he could trust Cynthia not to hurt him again. But he took the leap and found there was a greater pain he hadn’t felt yet. The woman he loved, the one who’d gotten under his skin and made him question the way he lived his life, wasn’t Cynthia at all. Cynthia never had the power to hurt him this badly because he hadn’t allowed it. This time he’d let down his protective walls and permitted his mystery lover to shatter his heart, whereas Cynthia had merely cracked it.

  It took every ounce of strength he had to keep his jaw clamped shut and swallow the hurt, confused words in his throat when she snuggled into his chest, completely oblivious to his discovery. The woman in his arms was not Cynthia. It was nearly impossible to wrap his head around the idea. His mind bounced around frantically, reliving every discussion, every touch, trying to determine if it had been obvious but he’d been too blinded by her light to see it.

  No wonder Cynthia had cheated on him. He’d been with her since college but he barely knew her anymore. They’d become so disconnected from their relationship that he couldn’t even tell her from someone else. He, of all people, should’ve been able to tell the difference regardless of what some plastic surgeon’s knife had done. He was a fool.

  Will wanted to shake her and start throwing angry accusations, but it was 3 a.m. and he knew the answers wouldn’t come. In the morning he would uncover the truth and then see what she had to say for herself. For now, all he could do was try to fall back asleep and hope the heartburn-like pain in his chest didn’t keep him up all night.

  It was then, as he lay in the dark praying for sleep to dull the pain, that the woman lying in his bed quietly declared that she was in love with him. And to think, up until that point, he’d thought the situation couldn’t get any worse.

  Ten

  When morning had finally come around, the arrival of the sun did not make Will’s outlook any brighter. In fact, he’d lay there wide awake the entire time. With each second that ticked by, the pain and confusion had slowly morphed into anger and suspicion. He got out of bed around seven and told her there was a pressing problem with the Sunday edition. He couldn’t very well tell her he didn’t want to be around her, pretending to bask in their post lovemaking glow. He wasn’t a very good actor, and he wasn’t ready to confront her until he had all the information. He wanted to have the advantage, and that meant doing the necessary research to figure out who she was and what she was after.

  She—he couldn’t think of her as Cynthia anymore—pouted appropriately and gave him a kiss to help keep her on his mind all day.

  Oh, yeah, she’d be on his mind, all right. But probably not the way she imagined.

  When he got to the office, he asked his weekend admin to pull any articles the local papers had done on the plane crash. He spent two hours at his desk poring over the pieces published in his paper and other papers around town. There wasn’t much information aside from details of the accident itself, the short list of survivors and what the airline was doing to ensure the tragedy would never happen again.

  None of that was helpful.

  Going down the hallway into the bullpen, where a large group of journalists worked in cubicles, he sought out the guy who had written all the articles for the Observer.

  “Mike? Do you have a second?”

  The journalist spun in his chair, a look of surprise on his face when he realized the owner of the paper was in his cubicle and not the guy across from him looking to borrow a stapler. “Yes, Mr. Taylor?”

  “I’m looking for some information on Cynthia’s plane crash. Do you happen to have any research materials left over that I can see?”

  “Sure thing.” Mike spun back around to his file cabinet and pulled out a green file labeled “Chicago Flight 746.” “Everything I have is here, including any official faxes the airline sent.”

  “Is there a list of passengers and seats included?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Mike.”

  Will took the file back to his office and flipped through the pages. According to the information from the airline, Cynthia was in 14A, a window seat in coach. That was unusual. A look at the first-class passengers explained it. Looked like a large group of Japanese businessmen traveling together. She probably hadn’t realized what seat she was assigned until it was too late to change it.

  Turning back to Cynthia’s row, he noted the person beside her in 14B was a woman named Adrienne Lockhart. She had not survived the accident. Few had.

  Firing up his laptop, Will pulled up his internet browser and searched for this Adrienne Lockhart. The first link was adriennelockhartdesigns.com, a site for a SoHo-based fashion designer.

  A fashion designer. Will’s stomach started to churn with dread. He was certainly on the right track. He’d hoped for a moment he’d find she’d sat beside a middle-aged attorney named Harold.

  He opened the website up and saw on the homepage an announcement that the store was closing and thanking her patrons for their support. The announcement was dated the day before the crash.

  Will clicked on “About the Designer,” and before the page had almost fully loaded, he knew he had come to the right site. There was a photo of a smiling, dark-haired woman posted there. They could’ve been sisters with like features
arranged in a slightly different way. She looked to be a similar build to Cynthia, but facially, there were differences. Adrienne’s face was a touch rounder, her nose slightly wider. She didn’t have Cynthia’s high, prominent cheekbones or expensive, perfect teeth. Her hair had a sort of wavy kink to it, although it was the same dark color.

  Clicking on the picture, it enlarged and he was able to zoom in on the feature he was most interested in. The eyes. He’d convinced himself that the gold in Cynthia’s eyes had always been there, but he’d avoided her gaze so long he’d forgotten. Now he realized it was because it hadn’t been there before. But it was certainly in this photo. If he enlarged the picture enough to show nothing else but the pair of green-gold eyes, it was like looking at Cynthia.

  The Cynthia he’d made the mistake of falling for.

  Cynthia Dempsey was not in his apartment. That woman was most certainly Adrienne Lockhart.

  But why? How had this happened?

  There had obviously been some kind of mistake at the accident site. Either the bodies had been thrown from their seats or they’d switched seats for some reason. He knew Cynthia hated the window, so he had no doubt she would needle the person next to her into trading. As badly as they were hurt, the women looked similar enough to be confused by rescue crews.

  If Adrienne had woken up in the hospital, her face reconstructed to look more like Cynthia…it was an easy mistake for everyone to make. She had looked horrible, nothing like Cynthia at first despite Dr. Takashi’s best efforts. They believed she was Cynthia because the doctors told them she was. But it was also an easy mistake to correct. All she had to do was say, “I’m not Cynthia Dempsey” the minute she could talk. But she hadn’t. She’d feigned confusion and was diagnosed with amnesia.