Tempted by the Wrong Twin

by Rachel Bailey

  But inside he was smiling.

  * * *

  The next day, Harper was unwrapping a sandwich at her desk so she could work through her lunch break when she thought she heard Nick’s voice float through her open door. She glanced through the plate-glass walls of her office to the open-plan area outside. Sure enough, Nick was wending his way through the desks, heading for her. Her heart stuttered to a stop at the sight of him, and when it kicked back in, it beat faster than before. Oh, the way that man moved—prowled—was a sight to behold, and the movement of each step pulled his clothes against his body, hinting at a physique toned by his daily workouts. She only just managed to restrain a sigh of appreciation.

  A few people greeted him as Malcolm, and, not bothering to correct them, he said a casual “Hey” and kept moving.

  She shook her head. The idea of mixing the two men up was ludicrous. They might look the same, but Malcolm was a warm, sunny day to Nick’s dark, brooding night. Of course if she hadn’t recognized that he wasn’t Malcolm on the night of the masked ball, she couldn’t expect that people who were only seeing him pass by to realize it. Besides, Nick was the silent partner—there were probably a few people working here who didn’t even realize Malcolm had a twin who owned half the company. Still...

  He reached the desk just outside her office, and her assistant, Tom, glanced up to check if she was available then waved through the man he obviously thought was Malcolm. Nick barely seemed to notice that he was being given permission—his gaze was firmly locked on her. A delicious shiver of anticipation raced down her spine at the sparking intensity in his eyes.

  Tom must have noticed something was a little off—perhaps since Nick hadn’t slowed to greet him the way Malcolm normally would have—so he turned and watched as Nick entered her office.

  He gave her a lopsided grin and said, “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself.” She stood and rounded her desk. “This is a surprise.”

  “Since we started dating, I thought I’d drop by and take you to lunch. You know. On a date.”

  “I was expecting we’d do things at night or on the weekends.” And, to be honest, she hadn’t expected anything quite so soon.

  He took her hand and linked their fingers. “It wouldn’t have been much of a surprise that way.”

  She coughed out a laugh. “I guess not.”

  Over his shoulder, she noticed there was something of a scene unfolding on the other side of the plate-glass walls. Several people had dropped by Tom’s desk—some had taken the time to grab some paperwork so they could at least pretend they had a legitimate reason to be watching the events unfold, but others weren’t bothering with trying to be subtle. Of course, office life at Tate Armor was normally fairly routine and boring, so an event like the man they thought was the CEO walking into the company attorney’s office and holding her hand would be an interesting diversion, and word spread fast.

  Normally she was a private person and would cringe at being the center of a scene. But with Nick smiling at her, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead, she looked back to him and murmured, “We have an audience.”

  She looked down at their linked fingers and wanted to just focus on this new feeling of being courted by her husband, but she couldn’t completely ignore her coworkers, so finally she glanced up at Nick again.

  “I haven’t told anyone here yet.”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “About the babies, about the wedding or about me?”

  “Any of it,” she admitted, trying not to wince but probably failing. A couple of times she’d almost told Tom but had changed her mind each time. She’d never shared much personal information before, so she hadn’t known how to start.

  Nick raised an eyebrow. “No one noticed the wedding band?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t tend to hang out at the water cooler.”

  “I seem to have let part of your secret out,” he said, clearly pleased with himself.

  “It seems you have.”

  With a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up to look into her eyes. “Are you sorry?”

  “Not really,” she said, and realized it was true. “I wasn’t deliberately keeping it a secret, I just haven’t told anyone. I’m normally fairly self-contained.”

  He smiled knowingly. “Seems I’m not the only one with hermit tendencies.”

  “I suppose that’s true.” She’d never thought of herself as a hermit or considered cutting herself off from people the way Nick had since he’d returned home, but she had always been a bit of a loner. “You’ve been physically isolating yourself, and it’s probably fair to say I emotionally isolate myself.”

  “Well, maybe you used to emotionally isolate yourself,” he said. “Now you’re married with two babies on the way and stepmother to a three-year-old.”

  “And I’m adjusting,” she said, attempting a reassuring smile before adding, “slowly.”

  “How about we help it along a little?” His voice was deep and smooth and laced with mischief, daring her to put a foot out of line.

  “How?” she asked, equal parts curious and wary.

  Raising an eyebrow and keeping her gaze, he lifted her left hand up to shoulder height and pointed to her wedding ring, then his own. The murmurings floating through her door increased to a buzz.

  She laughed and rested her forehead against his chest. “Not into subtlety?”

  “Not really my forte.” He stepped back, smiled generously at the crowd then placed a hand on Harper’s stomach. The assembled group—which, by now, was almost the entire staff of the company—gave up any pretense of being there for any other reason but gawking. They clearly thought they were at the unveiling of a secret office romance between the CEO and the company attorney—the most delicious piece of gossip all year. Most people were grinning, a couple had their mouths open in a wide O, and Tom gave her a double thumbs-up.

  Harper blew out a breath and caved in—she gave her coworkers a little wave and then put her hand over Nick’s on her stomach.

  “You know,” she said, “it’s going to be impossible to get any work done for the rest of the day.”

  “Worse things have happened.”

  “You should care about this, as a co-owner of the company.”

  “As a co-owner of the company, I find this scenario more amusing and satisfying than a few extra hours of completed work.”

  The elevator pinged, and the doors slid open, revealing Malcolm. The murmuring stopped as the actual CEO walked through, glancing around, clearly wondering why the people he paid to work at these desks weren’t actually doing that.

  Then he caught sight of his brother, and understanding dawned on his face. He headed over to them. The silence dissolved, and the gathered people realized that they hadn’t just witnessed a scene between Harper and Malcolm—which was juicy enough—but this was, in fact, a rare sighting of the fabled identical twin. The buzz began again, people not even bothering to whisper anymore as they shared tidbits of information they had about the other partner in Tate Armor.

  “So,” Malcolm said as he reached Harper’s office door, “the newlyweds can stop traffic. That’s as good an omen as any for a marriage. Though I’d be careful with these displays of unprofessional behavior in the office, Nick. One of the company owners is ex-military, and I hear he takes the professionalism of his staff very seriously.”

  Nick rested an arm around Harper’s shoulders. “Our marriage doesn’t need good omens—it’s doing fine on its own. In fact, I’m here to take my wife out to lunch.”

  Malcolm checked his watch, his face deadpan. “Is it that time already? I haven’t had lunch, either. I might join you.”

  Harper was enjoying the banter between the brothers, but Nick clearly wasn’t in the mood. “This is a private lunch date,” he said and tugged on
Harper’s hand.

  She grabbed her bag and let him lead her to the elevator. Nick hit the down button, the doors whooshed open and they stepped in. As she turned, she saw all her coworkers and boss gathered together, having been thoroughly entertained by her and Nick, and instead of finding it intrusive or a nuisance, as she would have a few weeks ago, she felt stirrings of mischievousness. Like she was playing hooky by going out to lunch...and enjoying it. Just before the doors closed, she bit down on a grin and gave another little wave to the crowd.

  * * *

  When they reached the security desk just inside the building’s front doors, Nick stopped to thank Steve, the guard, and pick up Frank, who’d been sleeping behind the desk.

  The dog even looked a little pleased to see him. When Nick had left him there on his way to get Harper, Frank had seemed to accept it as if he was being handed to yet another owner. The fact that he seemed to be moderately pleased to be back with Nick was an improvement.

  Harper gave Frank a hello pat and waved to Steve. Once they were outside, she said, “I’ve never seen any of the guards here provide dog-sitting before.”

  “We knew each other in high school. Besides, he’s a navy vet, and when I told him Frank’s story, he offered to help out with him if we needed it.”

  He didn’t need help for Frank, but he’d been thinking about organizing some fund-raising for a charity he’d read about that looked after the dogs of military personnel while they were on deployment. Maybe he’d come back another day and see if Steve was interested in getting involved as well.

  “So,” Harper said when they reached his car, “I’m guessing with Frank tagging along, we’re not going to a fancy restaurant?”

  He opened the back door, and Frank jumped in, turned a couple of times and lay down.

  “If it’s okay with you—” Nick closed Frank’s door and turned to Harper “—I had the kitchen at the TCC clubhouse put together a gourmet picnic basket.”

  Her eyes lit up. “That sounds perfect.”

  Feeling pretty happy that he’d planned something for their first date that put that look in her eyes, he held her door as she slid into her seat, then rounded the car and settled in on the driver’s side. Before he started the ignition, he reached for her hand again.

  “I want to show you a special place. We might not make it back in the hour that Malcolm allots for lunch, but we shouldn’t be too late.”

  “As you pointed out,” she said, grinning, “I have quite a bit of vacation saved up, so a little late will be fine.”

  Nick drove them to a spot just outside town that not many people knew about. It was pretty much still in its natural state, with a small waterfall—nothing too spectacular, but the rhythmic sound of the water was one of the few things that helped center him. And he wanted to share that with her.

  He parked, let Frank out and grabbed the picnic basket and a blanket from the trunk while Harper took in the setting.

  “This place is amazing,” she said, resting her hands on her hips, watching the waterfall. “I’ve never been here. How did you know about it?”

  His lungs cramped tight. He’d known the question was coming—anyone would have asked in this situation—yet it still managed to blindside him. He carefully took a breath, then another. Harper turned curious eyes to him.

  He cleared his throat and gave half an answer. “I’ve been coming here for years. Sometimes there are other people, especially on weekends, but often it’s deserted.”

  “Well, I love it.” She smiled, seemingly satisfied with only half an answer, and his lungs released their tension, allowing him to draw in blissful gulps of fresh air.

  Frank trotted over, sniffed around a little and relieved himself on a tree trunk, then came back to where Nick was setting up the blanket and curled up on a corner. Watching the simple, practical movements of his dog helped Nick regain his equilibrium.

  Harper slipped off her heels, knelt on the blanket and helped unpack the basket. She held up a small container of mixed olives. “This all looks fabulous. Did you choose the food?”

  “I left that to the clubhouse kitchen.” He reached in and came out with a sealed plastic bag that contained a silver bowl, a small bottle of spring water, some dog treats and a ball. He chuckled. He’d asked for a picnic basket, and when they’d asked how many were going, he’d said just him and his wife. He’d added, “And my dog,” as an afterthought, simply because he liked saying he had a dog, not thinking they’d include anything for Frank. It was nice of them. He appreciated attention to detail in customer service—he’d have to send them another tip later.

  He poured the water into the silver bowl and offered it to Frank, along with one of the treats. The Labrador sniffed the treat then carefully took it from him and chewed. It tore at his heart that Frank still felt the need to be so careful about everything.

  Gaze on his dog, Nick casually said, “I’ve been wondering something.”

  As Harper pulled the last contents from the basket—china plates and thick, luxurious napkins—and laid them out, she threw him a look over her shoulder. “It just so happens that plying me with delicious food is a good way to get me to answer just about anything.”

  He grinned. “I’ll file that away for future reference.”

  She settled back on the blanket, stretched her long legs out in front of her and leaned back, resting her weight on her hands. “What do you want to know?”

  “The other day you said you’d heard about a dog and we had to rescue him.”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

  He reached over and rubbed Frank’s soft ears. “How, exactly, did you hear about him?”

  “Ah.” She busied herself serving food onto their plates. He wasn’t sure if it was a strategy to avoid eye contact or not, so he waited until she sat back and met his gaze. “Well, to be honest—”

  “Always the best policy,” he interjected, amused.

  “—I called the Royal Safe Haven Animal Shelter and asked Megan to tell me about their special needs dogs. She ran through a few, then when she mentioned Frank’s history, I asked her to hold him for us.”

  “Right.” He’d started to suspect as much. Something in her story had always been a little suspicious. “So, why make the call to the shelter in the first place?”

  “Because the wait was too long for a trained service dog.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. She’d lost him in that last leap of logic. “You know, this might be easier if you just start from the beginning.”

  She handed him a plate piled high with food, then took hers and put it down on the blanket. But she didn’t start eating. She stared at her food for long moments, then lifted her gaze to him. Totally open—no avoidance, no games.

  “I wanted to do something to help you with what you’re going through. So I did some research into PTSD.”

  He stilled. The last thing he wanted was Harper thinking he was a charity case or pitying him. “Learn anything interesting?” he asked, trying for a casual tone and unsure if he’d achieved it.

  She nodded, clearly warming to her subject. “I saw some really good outcomes for veterans with a trained service dog. The dogs could head off anxiety attacks and wake their person from a nightmare.”

  He’d heard similar things. “A friend mentioned once that he knew a couple of guys who had them.”

  “But there was a waiting list, so I kept researching.” Her eyes were shining with enthusiasm, so he bit into a roll and lost himself in her light as she talked. “Another piece of advice I found was to do something for someone else. To help someone. But I knew you were worried about letting someone down again, and you already felt your plate was full with me, Ellie and the babies, so that wasn’t a great plan. It could make things worse rather than better.”

 
He winced. That was a harsh but fair assessment. Still, he didn’t want her feeling like she was a burden to him. “Harper, I don’t think of you as—”

  But she interrupted him. “It’s okay, Nick. I know what you mean. And anyway, then I had an idea—what if the someone you helped wasn’t a person? What if it was a dog who needed you as much as you needed them?”

  Her plan finally made sense. “So you called Megan and asked about special needs dogs.”

  “And you met Frank and fell for him at first sight. Now that I think about it,” she said, her mischievous smile peeking out again, “you seem to have a habit of committing to people and dogs before getting to know them.”

  “Since it worked so well with you, I thought it was worth a shot with Frank.” He glanced at the dog, who carried the weight of hope and expectation on his furry shoulders. It was a lot for a boy dealing with his own issues. “Harper, what if he doesn’t help me?”

  Her gaze didn’t falter. “Then we’ll have a gorgeous family pet for Ellie, the babies and us.”

  “Sounds like a perfect plan,” he said.

  She popped a juicy olive in her mouth and chewed, watching him carefully, and when she’d swallowed, asked, “Are you mad at me?”

  She’d lied by omission and had been poking around, researching something he found intensely personal. He should be annoyed. Strangely, he wasn’t.

  “I’m grateful. That you researched it and came up with a strategy, and for Frank himself.” Frank looked up at his name, probably hoping for some cheese, and Nick ruffled the top of his head. “I think he’s already helping.”

  She’d been right—it had been good to have someone else who needed him during the day when Harper was at work and Ellie was with her mother. He’d even taken to talking to him on their daily walk. Frank was a good listener.

  They sat in companionable silence as they ate their picnic lunch and listened to the waterfall. When they were done, Harper lay back on the blanket, her hands behind her head, and Nick stretched out beside her, feeling surprisingly content.