"What's there to worry about now? You're safe, you're home, you're alive. That's all that's important. I've worried and cried enough for the next decade." She pulled back slightly and Paul could see her eyes shimmering beneath the last brilliant rays of the sinking sun.
A golden glow from that radiant light seemed to envelop them, illuminating her unusual violet eyes, making them resemble uncut amethysts. For a moment Paul's determination wavered. Was that genuine love he glimpsed in those eyes? Was the relief in her voice true?
"It was worth every moment of anguish, every tear, every prayer," she continued. Again she touched him almost reverently. "I didn't want to give up hope—" her voice broke "—but I almost did. It seemed impossible that you could still be alive." More tears burst free, fat drops that rolled down her cheeks unchecked.
Paul struggled with the emotions that clawed at him. Was he being impossibly cruel? Unable to stop the motion, he gently wiped the tears away. Then he tucked a wayward strand of silky black hair behind her ear.
She made a choking sound, one that wavered between a sob and a laugh, the laughter dominating. "You never could stand the serious stuff."
He blinked, filled again with suspicion. Her mood had shifted quickly. Too quickly for him to believe her sincerity.
"You must be tired!" she cried suddenly. "Here I am rambling on and we need to get you to bed."
Paul's head jerked up. Another detail he hadn't thought of.
Katherine slipped her arm around his waist as she tilted her face toward his. Her brows rose and her unusual eyes darkened to a shade somewhere between coy and alluring. "You deserve a proper welcome. I want you to know just how much you were missed." Her full lips quivered again, then curved in a smile. "How very very much you were missed."
Belatedly it occurred to him that this was no minor detail.
* * *
Chapter 2
«^»
"I'm not all that tired," Paul began as Katherine led him inside. He was facing a line that, while not anticipated, certainly couldn't be crossed.
"You need your rest – no dancing on the tables tonight," she chided him gently as they passed a room that appeared to be a study. She steered him, instead, into an inviting family room with a soaring beamed ceiling, a rock fireplace, rows of built-in cherry-wood bookcases and a cozy window seat that looked out on the ocean. "I know you love being the life of the party, but tonight you'll have to settle for being pampered and spoiled beyond your wildest expectations."
"They made me rest plenty in the hospital," Paul explained, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him that impersonating his brother meant sharing a bed with his bride. The shock of Matthew's accident apparently must have stolen his edge.
"You have a concussion," Katherine reminded him. She turned to him suddenly, burrowing close, surprising him again with both her words and actions. "I almost lost you once. I don't want to take any chances."
Paul purposely ignored how soft she felt in his arms. He tried not to be obvious as he pulled back. "I'm safe now."
She took his hand in hers. "Thank God." Her fingers were moving over his left hand when suddenly they stilled. "Your wedding band's gone!"
Paul couldn't prevent a glance at the telling emptiness on his ring finger. "It must have been lost with my other things."
"Other things?"
"My wallet, keys…"
"Oh. No wonder your clothes are different, too."
He shrugged, much as he knew Matthew would have. "I was pretty much at the mercy of the hospital for a new shirt and jeans."
"The other things can be replaced," she murmured, "and you can't, so I'm glad you're the one thing that made it home." She tightened the pressure of her arm around his waist, almost as though she was hanging on for support. "You didn't tell me how you survived the crash."
Luckily Paul had thought that one out before meeting her. "I parachuted out before the crash. Since the plane's in about a thousand pieces, it was hard to find something to hang on to in the water. I wound up washed ashore pretty far down the coast. Like I said, I was disoriented – that's why it took a while to get to a hospital."
She grasped his hands, hers curling naturally within his palms. "It's a miracle you survived." Her voice trembled. "If you hadn't thought to parachute… Oh, Elliott, what would I have done if you hadn't made it?"
Paul stared at her. If this was an act, she was damn good.
"I know I'm being silly," she added, blinking away fresh tears. "I should be celebrating, not weeping. I thought I was cried out by now. Instead, I can't seem to stop." She pressed close. "I'm just so happy you're safe and you're home." She wiped at the tears that escaped her eyes.
"There's no need to cry," he said awkwardly, uncomfortable with her unrestrained display.
"They're tears of joy," she explained with a radiance that shone through the weeping. Then she tilted her face upward to press her tear-wet lips to his. Surprised by the fire in the caress, Paul didn't immediately respond.
"Mommy?" The small voice startled him, upsetting his already tumultuous thoughts.
Mommy? Paul jerked around. She has a child? Matthew definitely hadn't mentioned this little addition.
"Dustin!" She hurried toward the little boy, kneeling down when she reached him. "Mommy's sorry she forgot about you, sweetie," Katherine told him as she scooped him up, and rested him on one hip. She brushed at the dark hair on his forehead, smoothing it away, exposing his round chubby face. "Look who's here – Elliott."
It struck him as odd that Matthew's bride didn't prefer a more intimate term. He and Matthew had used their surname since junior high, when few people could tell them apart. It had been easier to go by Elliott, and the moniker had stuck.
The child struggled to get down, and Katherine set him lightly on his feet. Without hesitation Dustin ran to Paul. "Elly-ut?" he asked, holding out his arms.
Taken aback, Paul stood frozen in place as he stared at the toddler.
"Up!" Dustin demanded.
Disarmed, Paul managed to unbend enough to awkwardly lift the toddler. Warm, soft and smelling of talc, Dustin snuggled in his arms. Huge eyes, the same amazing color as his mother's, blinked up at Paul. Pudgy fingers moved to touch his face. "You home now?"
Paul stared down at him. What had this child meant to his brother? Could this be his son? But Matthew had said he and Katherine had only known each other for a few months before their marriage and they'd only been married three months. This little guy was at least three, maybe four years old. Paul cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm home now."
"We going in the plane?" Dustin asked.
Paul felt the hitch in his chest as he thought of the plane's fate – of what he feared was Matthew's fate. And at the same time he wondered what role his brother had played in this child's life. "I don't think so."
Katherine was at his side immediately. "Dustin, Elliott doesn't want to talk about the plane right now. He's got a boo-boo on his head."
Dustin reached for Paul's head. "Boo-boo?"
Katherine linked her hand with her son's and gently untangled his fingers from Paul's hair. "We have to be careful with Elliott for a few days, punkin. He's had a rough time."
"Mommy cried lots when you were losted," Dustin informed him.
Startled, both adults stared at him.
"I didn't think he saw me," Katherine muttered in an aside to Paul. She held out her hands. "Ready for bedtime, sweetie?"
Shaking his head, Dustin clung a moment longer to Paul. The gesture caused an unfamiliar, unsettling, completely unexpected feeling. But then, he'd never had any experience with children. Especially a child who might be the last link he'd have with Matthew.
"I think tonight calls for some cocoa," Katherine told them both.
Denny's mutinous expression faded. "Okay."
Katherine stared for another moment at Paul and Dustin, puzzlement shadowing her eyes. "You look pretty wiped out. Why don't I take Dustin?"
With the ease of fam
iliarity, Katherine shifted the child into her arms and Paul realized he must have looked as uncomfortable as he felt.
Katherine set Dustin on the floor. "Punkin, why don't you get your Silly Putty and I'll put on the kettle." As the child scampered off to get one of his favorite toys, Katherine turned back to Paul, concern filling her face. "Elliott, I'm serious. Don't be brave for us. I'm worried about how you look – you're so pale. I think the hospital may have released you prematurely." She stepped closer to stroke his jaw. "They say the brain's a funny thing."
"Mine usually is." He tried to quip the way Matthew would have.
"Quite the comedian, aren't you?" She led him to an overstuffed chair. "I want you to plant yourself and grow lots of roots." She pulled up an ottoman to scoot beneath his legs. "I know you like to make a joke out of everything, but…" Her voice began to tremble again. "You don't know what it was like, waiting, wondering… hoping. And now that you're home I can't stand the thought that you might not take care of yourself and you could still…" Her voice trailed off as she bent her head, waves of shiny black hair hiding her face.
This woman was far, far from what Paul had expected. Still, he had to behave like Matthew. "Okay, you win. No more taking chances."
She lifted her head, wiping at errant tears. A ghost of a smile emerged. "Good. This chance was enough to last me until we're ninety, maybe a hundred."
"Planning that far ahead?"
Her smile grew as she rose. "Of course. Those vows we took didn't come with an expiration date. You're stuck with me, heartthrob, until you die."
A chill raced through him at her words. "Elly-ut!" The child's cry rang through the air as Dustin ran into the room and launched himself at Paul again.
"Dustin!" Katherine chided. "Remember, we have to be careful with Elliott."
"Careful," Dustin agreed, his little head bobbing. Then he pulled a stuffed toy from behind his back. "For Elly-ut's boo-boo."
Taken aback, Paul gingerly accepted the teddy bear. "Don't you like to play with this?" he asked, awkwardly holding the toy and wondering what to do with it.
"Well, it is his favorite, you know," Katherine told him, that same look of puzzlement crossing her face. Then she glanced down at her son. "Do you think Bobby Bear will help Elliott get better?"
Dustin nodded soberly. "Bobby will fix him." Despite his deception, Paul felt an unexpected warmth as he met Dustin's unblinking gaze. His mother might be a black widow, but the child was an innocent. "You may be right, Dustin." Paul held the bear closer. "I think I'm already feeling a little better." He rubbed the imaginary lump on his head. "Yep, I'm definitely feeling better."
Katherine's grin lit her face, transforming it. Up until then all he had seen was concern and relief. The way she looked now was something else. Something unexpectedly appealing.
"My best guys," Katherine murmured. Blowing kisses, she backed away, leaving the room.
Dustin continued staring at him.
"So…" Paul began. What did you say to a kid this size? Paul was vaguely aware of some purple creature that drove parents crazy, and he guessed kids still liked cartoons. But what cartoons were popular now? It occurred to Paul he knew more about genetic research than he did about what interested children. And that wasn't much.
"Bobby Bear wanted you to come home," Dustin announced.
Paul cleared his throat, knowing he was on unsteady ground. "I'm glad, 'cause I wanted to come home, too."
"You won't go away anymore?" Dustin asked, his brows pulled together in concentration.
Very unsteady ground. "Why would I want to do that?"
"My daddy did. Before I was borned."
A little piece of Paul's heart fractured. Jeez, why did people do stuff like that to little kids, anyway? "Well, that was him, not me."
Dustin snuggled closer for a moment, then he pulled back. "Play trains?"
"I don't see why not. We—"
"None of that," Katherine interrupted, returning to the room with a tray. "Dustin, Elliott can't play trains until we're sure he's all better. I imagine the doctor will want to give him a checkup tomorrow or the next day and then we'll see, okay?"
The doctor? Damn. He would have to get a physician secured through the agency.
"The water was already hot," Katherine explained. "I'd just had some tea. So the cocoa's all ready. Dustin, go hop on your mat."
Dustin obliged without complaint, waiting while Katherine handed him his special cup with a lid.
"What kind of medication are you on?" Katherine asked as she stirred the cocoa.
"Medication?"
"You know, little pills that come in all shapes, colors and sizes." She smiled teasingly. "From the pharmacy, also known as the drugstore."
"Sure. Um, actually I'm not on any medication."
"Still, I'd better keep your cocoa unspirited," Katherine replied, recapping the bottle of amaretto she'd brought with the cocoa.
Paul sighed, knowing he couldn't put up a valid argument since he'd invented the concussion. Accepting the thick stoneware mug, his glance lingered longingly on the amaretto. But when he sipped the warm brew, he pulled back in surprise, expecting the usual insipid cocoa that came in packets, the kind he always avoided, preferring the bitter bite of black coffee. "This tastes great – not like the cocoa I'm used to."
Another look of puzzlement flickered over her face. "It's the way I always make it—" she gestured toward the firmly capped amaretto "—minus the added fuel." She tilted her head as she studied him. "You've always said you loved the way the European chocolate makes it taste like dessert."
He told himself to behave like Matthew. "Right. I guess I just forgot how good it was."
"No, that's not it."
His gaze flew to meet hers. Had she found him out?
"You're angling for the amaretto, but flattery won't get you anywhere, bud. I'm sure they told you concussions and alcohol don't mix. Talking up my cocoa won't help."
Paul barely managed to withhold a sigh of relief. "Although reminding me about dessert is never a bad idea," she added, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.
Paul felt his stomach sink. Why couldn't she be a cold fish with a perpetual headache? But no, a smart mover wouldn't fail to kiss the breadwinner. He simply had to find a way to avoid her.
And that wasn't going to be easy since they were to share the same bed.
* * *
Katherine tried not to stare at Elliott as he moved awkwardly around the bedroom. He was behaving as if he'd never set foot in the place.
And it was more than just that. He acted like a stranger in his own skin, as though it no longer fit properly. His tall muscular build had always seemed so at ease. Yet he'd been skittish and jumpy ever since he'd come home, nothing like his normal self.
Katherine glanced at the dark hair with its unfamiliar cut, the bare upper lip. Even his blue eyes weren't quite the same. So much about him seemed different. But then, perhaps almost being killed did that to a person.
Suspecting Elliott had suffered more than he admitted, Katherine wondered if the trauma was as much emotional as physical. There was a haunted wary look in his eyes, one she'd never seen before.
Something primitive deep inside rang an answering need, but Katherine tamped it down. She didn't want him to change. She was more comfortable with the way he'd always been – fun, playful.
She wondered if he was viewing everything with fresh eyes, newly valuing what he'd previously taken for granted.
But surely the changes wouldn't last. No doubt he'd be back to normal by breakfast.
* * *
Chapter 3
«^»
Hurdles. His prodigal return, then meeting Dustin. They were a bitch, Paul decided, but he could handle them. Spending the night in his brother's bed with his brother's wife, however, was a hurdle of another nature.
He glanced toward the large breezy kitchen, making certain she was still cooking breakfast. He needed time alone, time to get a grip on how Matt
hew would behave.
And time to make a thorough search of the house. The room he had glimpsed last night was indeed a study. He hoped it held the account books he wanted to examine. Having seen Katherine's puzzled looks, Paul wondered how long he could pull this off before she pitched him out on his identical face.
Katherine turned just then and, seeing him, waved. Halfheartedly he waved back. She gestured toward the dining room. So much for time alone.
Still, he needed to act the way Matthew would. Yawning, he stretched largely as he entered the dining room, spying a plate of steaming pancakes and an assortment of jellies and syrups. "Looks great. I'm starving."
"I was hoping you would be. That's why I made so much." She held up a skillet. "I also made your favorite."
"An omelette?" he asked with genuine pleasure.
Her smile faltered. "No. Eggs Benedict."
Paul wanted to kick himself. He should have realized Matthew's tastes might have changed. He reached toward his head, feigning sudden weakness. "Of course. Omelettes haven't been my favorite for quite a while."
She placed the pan on a trivet. "How do you feel this morning? You don't look too well."
"I guess I'm not back to my old self yet." That had been his explanation the previous night when he hadn't wanted to share anything more than a chaste kiss. If Matthew was alive, Paul certainly didn't want to find himself explaining why he'd slept with his wife.
And the sight of the eggs Benedict staring up at him like a pair of accusing eyes made his stomach feel as though he'd just eaten a load of lead. "You know, I'm really not as hungry as I thought."
Katherine stopped in the process of sliding fresh melon onto his plate. "Shouldn't you have a little something?"
"Just coffee for now. I can eat the eggs later if I get hungry – I'll pop them in the microwave."
"The microwave?" she uttered in a tone that indicated he'd suggested warming his breakfast in something unspeakably foul. "Later this will taste like warmed-over rubber."
THE WRONG BROTHER Page 2