He clenched his teeth, thinking of Marsha and her insistence that they set up a studio for her here in Princeton, New Jersey. It had forced him to leave Hollywood, where he had friends and connections. It was the place to be if you wanted to make movies. He'd wanted to film the program at the headquarters of Paradine Studios, but she'd insisted she wouldn't leave New Jersey to return to California.
Duncan knew she hadn't wanted to do the show in the first place. She thought she'd ask for the moon and the studio would back out. Her contract terms were outrageous. She'd asked for everything—control of topics, approval of editing, no reruns during season, her own personal researchers, hiring and firing authority over practically everybody from God down to the gardeners. To his dismay the network went for it, everything except hiring and firing. He'd deal with the fallout, but he needed to be sure she wouldn't fire the lot in anger.
It had worked for Marsha, too. Better than she probaby thought, and she thought highly. The show soared in the ratings. Even on the East coast she was the hottest property in television. And now they could be in for a lawsuit over one of the look-alike guests.
The door opened and Aurora came in. Her complexion was a bit pale, but otherwise she looked fine.
"Are you all right?" Duncan stood.
"She's fine," Marv answered, joining them in the small room. "She's a little shaky, and her arm and leg are going to be sore for a day or two, but otherwise there are no physical problems. I think we should get someone to take her home."
"I'll see to it," Duncan said. He didn't mean to stare but he couldn't help himself. Aurora Alexander looked enough like Marsha Chambers to be her twin. The height, the color-of-midnight hair, the nail polish Marsha endorsed, even the smirk on her mouth, were all signature Marsha Chambers. She had the exact same kind of widow's peak at the top of her heart-shaped face as Marsha. Her eyes were different, however. Aurora's were dark brown with the slightest almond shape to them, while Marsha's had been described as melting. Photographers constantly asked her to face the light to show them off. Only the eyes and the disheveled hair and torn clothing separated Aurora from the original.
"Hi," said a voice behind them.
Duncan turned, glad to have a distraction. Joyce stood in the doorway.
"Just making sure everything's all right.” She came into the center of the room, leaving the door open.
"It is," Aurora said.
"Good." She smiled. "I can't tell you how fast my heart beat when I saw you lying on the ground."
"Thank you for the concern. I'll be all right." Aurora’s voice was soft.
Joyce was such a good person. She had the ability to make anyone feel comfortable. He couldn't fathom how she and Marsha had hooked up together and why Marsha never seemed to steam-roll over her.
"Do you need me to call a car for you?"
Before anyone could answer another voice commanded attention.
"What's going on here?"
Marsha Chambers had arrived—more like she made an entrance, Duncan thought. He looked past Joyce. Marsha took a step into the room. Behind her several other people entered, interested in the commotion she invariably caused. Aurora certainly didn't need more attention after she'd been attacked, and Marsha would surely make a circus of her misfortune.
Joyce supplied the answer to her question. "Ms. Alexander had an accident. She's going to be all right."
"Someone tried to kidnap me," Aurora corrected.
"Kidnap!" Marsha seized the word. Her hand went to her throat in a dramatic gesture and she took a step back. Then she glanced around as if looking for someone. Duncan knew she was remembering the last time.
"It was a mistake," Aurora said. "He probably thought I was you."
"Did you see who it was?" Marsha asked in a throaty voice.
"No." Aurora shook her head. "But no one would have any reason to kidnap me."
“We’ve called the police,” Duncan told her.
“Police!” Marsha nearly shouted.
Duncan nodded. “Marsha, someone tried to kidnap someone they thought was you.”
Marsha turned whispered something to Joyce and closed the door, keeping the prying eyes and ears out of the room.
“No police,” she said.
"Marsha," Duncan broke in.
“No police.” It was a don’t-argue comment. Duncan recognized the finality of her tone.
Joyce returned and nodded to Marsha. The crowd was still in the hall. Many moved closer to the now open door to hear what was going on.
“Did she cancel them?” Duncan asked.
“I did.” Marsha’s chin rose daring him to contradict her.
The small room was already full of people and more had gathered outside. The two women obviously didn't like each other, and he didn't need a full scale argument to provide another slanderous story for the tabloids on the checkout counters of grocery stores across the country. "I was about to see Ms. Alexander home."
He put his hand on her lower back and pushed Aurora slightly forward. Marsha stood her ground for a moment, preventing them from passing. Duncan wondered what the situation meant. The two women didn't know each other. Why was Marsha so hostile and Aurora the same? Marsha had asked some unscheduled questions during the taping, but she often did that. The audience hadn't noticed anything out of line. He knew that. He checked audience reaction as if he were a public relations man. He didn't want anything airing that could damage her image. That, too, was part of her contract.
"Excuse me," Aurora said. "I didn't mean to cause such a problem for your show."
Surprisingly, Marsha smiled and moved aside. Duncan knew she felt as if she'd won. He glanced at Aurora. There hadn't been any malice in her statement. She'd sounded royal like a queen who'd learned duty from childhood, or someone with old money who knew when it was time to diffuse a situation. He admired her for it. If she didn't look so much like Marsha Chambers he might want to get to know this woman, but with her face he only wanted to get as far away from her as possible.
***
Duncan kept his hand pressed against Aurora's waist. She felt the warmth of his fingers spread through layers of clothing to her skin, and she didn't mind it at all. Initially she'd left the room without limping, but when Duncan rounded a corner out of sight of the crowd, her knee hurt too much for her to keep up the pretense. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I forgot about your leg." They took it slower as he led her back to his office, where he gathered his suit coat and keys. It was a large office with bookshelves covering most of two walls. Three Emmy Awards sat on one of the shelves. On the other walls were pictures of him with various Hollywood stars and certificates of achievement from several creative associations. His desk was a huge, carved mahogany structure that was covered with papers and scripts. Aurora had never heard of Duncan West before the job offer for the show came along, but obviously Hollywood was well acquainted with him and his achievements.
He pulled his jacket on and turned back to her. "Ready?"
"I thought you were going to call a car." She knew the other look-alikes had been brought in by limousine. She assumed he was going to have a secretary call one for her. She didn't live very far and she'd driven herself to the studio. Her own car was still in the parking lot. "I can drive myself home. I didn't come in a limousine."
"Marv said someone should take you home, and I need to get out of here for a while. If you don’t mind I’ll drive you."
Aurora didn't argue.
Duncan picked up the phone. "I'll arrange to have your car delivered." He spoke quickly and efficiently, lowering the mouthpiece to ask for her keys. Aurora handed them over. Duncan replaced the receiver and led her to his car. It was black, sleek, and fast as she expected it would be. With the touch of a doctor, he helped her inside. His hands no longer felt warm, as they had during their walk to his office. Somewhere between the examination room and his office he'd turned cold.
He drove with the same efficiency he'd used in speaking on the phone. His move
ments were tight, controlled, and without effort or flare. She remained quiet until they reached her house in Rocky Hill.
"It's the third driveway." She pointed to a two-car driveway flanked by waist-high rows of hedges. The driveway curved in a circle in front of the house, and the hedges gave way to flowers. Chrysanthemums and roses bloomed in colorful profusion, giving a welcome greeting each time someone came out or went into the large, white house with green shutters.
Duncan stopped the car in front of the door. Aurora reached for the handle, but he was already out and coming to her side. He helped her to her feet then turned toward the house.
"This is a big house," he commented.
She nodded. She'd grown up here, and it was the only house she'd ever lived in. Her parents had lived here before their divorce. She, her sisters, and brother had grown up here, dated, married, and then left to pursue lives of their own. With her mother in a nursing home, the sprawling colonial was now hers alone.
"Would you like to come in for a moment?" she found herself asking. Even though he now seemed cool toward her, she had the feeling he was not looking forward to confronting Marsha Chambers before it was necessary.
Aurora unlocked the door and turned off the security alarm. Duncan closed the door, and she noticed him looking around. The house had a center hall foyer with stairs at the far end. Rooms sat on both sides of it. Aurora dropped her purse on the circular table, which had always held fresh flowers when her mother was in residence. Now it held a large crystal vase with colored marbles and stalks of silk flowers that needed dusting.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Coffee?"
"Hazelnut?" Aurora smiled.
"Fine."
"Why don't you wait in there while I get it?" She pointed toward the living room. Duncan walked toward it.
In the kitchen she quickly set up the coffeemaker, then hobbled up the back stairs and dumped the ripped, bloodstained clothes for a pair of loose-fitting slacks and a white cotton blouse. The fabric whispered against her sensitive skin, but did not irritate it.
When she joined Duncan carrying a tray, he was looking at the photos of her sisters on the mantelpiece. He didn't mention her change of clothes. She placed the tray on the coffee-table and sat down, stretching her leg out under the table.
"It's good you have an alarm system," he said.
"Why?" she asked. "You don't really think that guy was trying to kidnap me?"
"No, but it's better to be cautious." He sat down in the chair opposite her and took his cup.
"She's been kidnapped before, hasn't she?"
Duncan's head came up and he stared deeply at her. "How did you know that?"
"Her reaction to the word. People who have never been kidnapped would be surprised. Marsha Chambers had fear in her eyes, a horrible fear."
Duncan set his cup on the tray and leaned forward. His tie hung loosely in front of him. "Three years ago, Marsha was kidnapped by two fans. She was leaving her apartment in New York to go to an exercise club. A limousine was sitting by the curb and she got in, as she did every morning. The fans took her for a ride around the city, kept her with them all day, served her a nice dinner of her favorite foods, and returned her unhurt to her apartment. The whole thing was done in less than eighteen hours."
"That sounds like a publicity stunt." Aurora knew they didn't do those anymore. "Or at least great copy."
Duncan smiled. It was the first time she'd seen him do that, and a small tingle started in her stomach.
"Marsha was livid. She moved out of New York and refused to allow any of it to be publicized. Not even the tabloids got wind of that story."
"What happened to the fans? Marsha doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would forgive and forget. How did she keep them from spreading the news?"
"You're amazingly perceptive," Duncan said. "I thought the same thing myself, but Marsha only said she wanted the incident behind her. No one has mentioned it since. Today, however, it must have all come back to her."
Aurora almost felt sorry for the talk show hostess. She should have been flattered by the attention, yet Aurora had the feeling she wasn't. Something more than she'd let on had happened. She knew that. It had been her job to read between the lines, know the body language, search for telltale signs of lying, and Marsha Chambers had all the signs of a woman keeping a terrible secret. She didn't think Duncan knew it
She tested him. "Do you think that's all that happened?"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know," she lied. Aurora's experience in dealing with runaways and distraught women had taught her to see and hear more than appeared as face value. She felt Duncan was telling the truth, but she also felt Marsha was hiding something. "Since the act was so benevolent, I'd have thought she'd want the publicity."
"Marsha doesn't need publicity."
Not now, Aurora thought, but three years ago she did. Her show was just beginning and she wasn't in the news all the time. Why did that incident go untold?
Pulling her leg up, she had to use her hand to reposition it. Shifting to a more comfortable seat, Aurora poured more coffee into her cup. Duncan declined when she offered him more. He was quiet for a moment. Aurora felt uncomfortable under his stare.
"What?" she asked when it went on so long.
He hesitated, looking intently at her. "I wonder."
"Wonder what?" Aurora felt as if she had lipstick on her nose, or something. His gaze roved over her face. She saw him checking her hairline.
"Do you and Marsha know each other?"
She frowned. "You mean before we met today?"
He nodded.
Aurora shook her head. "When she was the weather girl for WNJP we happened to be in the same place one afternoon. We were having lunch in the same restaurant. Her table was filled with studio executives and I was across the room with a friend. She never saw me that I can say. When I left the restaurant, she was still there."
"The two of you seemed to dislike each other so intensely that I thought you'd met before."
Aurora dropped her head. The anger threatened to return, but she tempered it. "She assumed I'd had surgery to look like her. I haven't. I don't even know any plastic surgeons."
She knew plenty of doctors, orthopedists, psychiatrists, psychologists, physical therapists, and dental surgeons, but she'd never come in contact with a plastic surgeon. With the women in abusive relationships, it almost never progressed as far as needing plastic surgery. In the severest cases the progression passed any kind of surgery at all. Usually the abuse went over the edge, and they were killed by the men they professed to love and who professed to love them.
"Her assumption today that I'd physically altered my appearance angered me. Marsha appears insecure, but that's to be expected in her field."
"You're younger than she is."
"Only by four years. Not enough for her to feel threatened. I have no intention of being a talk show hostess. If I let logic prevail, I can assume her questions come from jealousy because someone else is reaping the benefits of her hard work. If that's the case, then I owe her a sincere apology. I have no doubt that she worked and sacrificed to get where she is, and I come along with a face that matches hers and get job offers for that reason only."
Duncan checked his watch. "I have to go now. Do you have someone to help you?" He stood up.
Aurora thought of her mother. Even if she were here she would be no help.
"I'm fine, Duncan." She moved to get up, grimacing as her knees argued with her decision. Duncan took her hand and helped her to her feet. His face was only inches from hers. She could feel his breath and smell his aftershave. The warmth between them threatened to turn to fire. She didn't dare look into his eyes or he'd see the confusion his touch had thrown her into. "You needn't worry about me," she whispered.
Duncan released her, and to her surprise her knees locked to keep her from falling over.
"You look tired," he said. "I'd feel better if
you had someone with you."
Was she dreaming, or had she heard a catch in his voice? He looked directly at her. Was he seeing her or Marsha Chambers? Aurora was still wearing the makeup that highlighted her cheekbones to give them the same shadows Marsha had.
"I live here alone."
"Isn't there someone you can call? What about one of the people in the photos?"
"They're my sisters, and they don't live nearby." She hobbled along with him to the door.
"A neighbor, then." He paused. "You're going to need help getting up those stairs."
Aurora wasn't looking forward to climbing the steps, but she could do it. She'd already gone up and down them once. "If I need anything that I can't do for myself I promise I'll call someone."
Duncan shrugged and opened the door. Three bells sounded, and he looked up.
"It's the alarm system," she explained. "It tells me a door has opened. It will also signal if the windows or the sliding glass doors are opened. So you see, I'm quite all right."
"It can't signal anyone that you're stuck in the bathtub and drowning."
"I don't take baths. I shower." Again the chemistry between them began to burn. She felt as if the air was heavy, that it was pressing on her.
"Today you need a good soak." His voice was hoarse.
"Yes, Doctor."
He left with another of those smiles that made the flutters in her stomach take precedence over the pain in her knee. Aurora closed the door as he pulled around the driveway. She didn't know what to make of Duncan West. He wasn't like any of the men she'd met in the past, especially men in show business. She was leaving show business. So Duncan West was only a small diversion on her way out of the limelight.
Hobbling across the foyer, she thought of his suggestion that she soak her leg and decided that was the best thing for it. Her progress was slower, since her leg had tightened from sitting. She had only reached the bottom step when the doorbell rang. Had he forgotten something? Hope sprang unbidden in her chest as she went slowly back. Pushing the curtain aside, she didn't see Duncan but her neighbor, Megan.
Mirror Image (Capitol Chronicles Book 4) Page 2