The Twin Switch (Millionaires Legacy Book 13; Gambling Men)

by Barbara Dunlop

  “Not really.”

  He put a hand lightly on my back and ushered me into the store.

  The gesture should have annoyed me, but it didn’t. Strong, independent, modern me had been left somewhere back on the sidewalk. Fairy-tale princess me was about to buy a dress for the ball.

  A clerk immediately stepped up to offer help, and in no time I had six dresses hanging inside my large dressing room.

  One was opulent, with gold lamé fabric and black beading. It all but screamed expensive. I tried on a pink one instead and decided it wasn’t my color. Then I tried one in a longer length, a pretty dove-gray tulle with a bow on the hip. I thought it made me look old.

  “Are you coming out anytime soon?” Max called through the curtain.

  “I don’t love anything yet,” I answered back.

  “What about the blue?”

  I took the blue dress from the hanger and slipped it over my head. It was satin on the sides with a long dark blue fringe at the midthigh hem, with nude fabric across the front covered in shimmering gold lace.

  I’m not a prude by any means, but it made me look like a risqué pop-music star.

  Still, I pulled open the curtain and stepped outside.

  Max’s jaw dropped. He didn’t say a word, but his expression was comical.

  “Maybe with the right shoes,” I said.

  “Definitely not in public.”

  “I’m not sure where exactly a person could wear this.” Maybe in a stage show.

  “My hotel suite,” Max said under his breath.

  I didn’t think he meant for me to hear it. I pretended I hadn’t, but my skin heated at the image his words brought to mind.

  I felt sexy as he stared at me, and my mind wandered back to our lovemaking.

  His blue gaze hung on to mine until I shook myself free.

  “Next,” I said and turned back to the changing room.

  The final dress was a simple white sheath with jeweled spaghetti straps and traditional white-tassel fringe layers along its length. The final strands of tassel ended above my knee.

  It didn’t look like much on the hanger, but it was a perfect fit. It came with a matching jeweled headband, and my auburn hair set off the white.

  It didn’t strike me as the most expensive of the choices, and that made me happy. Despite my threat to spend Max’s money, I wasn’t at all comfortable being extravagant. Though, judging by the store, nothing was going to be a bargain.

  “Are you coming out?” he called.

  I opened the curtain.

  Max stared at me for a minute.

  “Do you like it?” he asked.

  “I do.” I gave a turn so that he could see it from the back.

  “You have good taste,” he said.

  I wasn’t sure of his meaning. “I hope that doesn’t mean it’s expensive.”

  “It means it looks good.”

  The salesclerk reappeared. “Oh, that looks wonderful.” Her tone was overly enthusiastic, which is what she got paid for. “I have just the right shoes,” she said.

  “Shoes?”

  “You’ll need shoes,” Max said.

  I knew that neither my boots nor my pool sandals were going to do it. But I didn’t want Max buying me shoes on top of everything else.

  “Don’t even think about protesting,” Max said. “The outfit comes with accessories. Got a purse?”

  “I don’t—”

  “Purse,” Max called out to the clerk, who was making her way across the store.

  She gave him a wave to show she’d heard.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said.

  “This is pretty fun,” Max said.

  “I don’t see how it’s fun for you.” I moved to use a three-way mirror.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  The clerk returned with a pair of silver high-heel T-strap shoes with teardrop cutouts. She brought three white-and-silver purses in various styles.

  I took the chair next to Max and tried on the shoes. They fit.

  “This one,” Max said, holding up a small white pleated satin clutch with jeweled silver handles.

  “Your boyfriend has good taste,” the clerk quietly said to me.

  It was a sure bet that coming from the clerk on commission, “good taste” meant expensive. But Max looked intent on buying the purse.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said back in the same undertone. “This isn’t my life.”

  Her expression turned conspiratorial—one member of the sisterhood to another. “You should try to change that.”

  Max came to his feet. “It looks like we’ve got ourselves an outfit. Unless you need earrings?”

  “I don’t need earrings,” I quickly said.

  “Don’t be too hasty,” the clerk said.

  She might have been supporting the sisterhood, or she could have been thinking about her own commission. Either way, I was standing firm.

  Even a fairy-tale princess had to draw the line somewhere.

  “No earrings.”

  Eight

  “Your dress is gorgeous.” Brooklyn took in my outfit, reaching out to strum her fingers through the fringe across my stomach.

  She looked stunning in a fitted, lacy midnight blue, gold-trimmed dress with a fringe brushing her thighs. She wore jewel earrings and a matching necklace that sparkled with both clear and blue stones.

  “Tell me those aren’t real,” I said.

  She touched one of the earrings. “I didn’t ask.”

  “How could you not ask?”

  “I didn’t want to know.”

  “Brooklyn.” I was shocked by her attitude. “How can you accept—” I couldn’t help myself. I reached out to touch the stones on the necklace. I was willing to bet a whole lot that they were real. “This from another man.”

  “Colton isn’t another man.” She got a determined look on her face. “Layla, I have to tell James.”

  Panic welled up inside me. “You can’t.”

  “I know I promised I’d think about it. But this isn’t fair to either of them. It’s not right.”

  “You can’t know yet,” I said. “You can’t be completely sure.”

  Her tone and expression were firm and a little angry. “I’m completely sure.”

  Colton appeared, and I glared at him.

  He did a double take of my expression, but then looked to Brooklyn. “Dance?”

  “I have to go to the ladies’ room,” she said.

  “I’ll come—”

  “Don’t,” she said with her own glare at me.

  I rocked back from her sharp tone.

  And then she was gone, and I was standing there facing Colton.

  “She’s terrified of hurting you,” Colton said.

  I felt my hackles rise. I didn’t need this stranger telling me about Brooklyn’s emotional state. I knew Brooklyn’s emotional state. I always knew her emotional state.

  Right now her emotional state was terrifying me.

  “We’ve been best friends our whole lives,” I said to Colton.

  “She told me. She loves you a lot.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked him.

  “I offered to walk away,” he said.

  I found it impossible to believe that. “Sure you did.”

  “Did you?” a third voice asked.

  I looked up to find Max beside me.

  Colton shifted his attention to his brother.

  “More than once,” he said.

  “Maybe you should insist,” Max said.

  I hadn’t really expected Max to back me up when push came to shove. I felt good that he was on my side. I felt less alone in the fight.

  “If I thought it was best for her, I would,” Colton said.
<
br />   “It is best for her,” I said. I believed that with every fiber of my being.

  “Are you going to marry her?” Max asked.

  Colton’s tone was incredulous. “We’ve known each other for four days.”

  “That’s my point. You’re taking away her happily-ever-after to offer what? A fling?”

  “Don’t insult Brooklyn. This is not a fling.”

  Max shifted a little closer to his brother. “What is it?”

  “It’s two people discovering each other and realizing they might not be able to live apart.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said.

  It wasn’t my most eloquent argument, but it had the advantage of being true.

  “You’re not being fair to her,” Max said.

  Brooklyn reappeared in time to hear Max’s words. “You know nothing about me,” she told him tartly. To Colton she asked, “Can we please dance?”

  “Yes, we can.” Colton took her arm.

  “Don’t call James,” I called out to Brooklyn.

  “I’m going to dance,” she replied, walking away.

  “What do I do?” I asked myself as much as Max.

  The image of James getting a breakup call from Brooklyn was too much to bear. I thought about rushing home so I would be there when it happened. But there was nothing I could say or do to soften the blow.

  “They seem really sure,” Max said.

  “You’re giving up already?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Max nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to Colton.”

  “Thank you.”

  “In the meantime.” He glanced around the big ballroom. “We might as well dance.”

  I didn’t much feel like dancing. Then again, I didn’t much feel like standing here worrying, either.

  “You look beautiful,” Max said.

  The soft glow of his gaze made me warm.

  I felt beautiful. I felt guilty for feeling beautiful, but there it was.

  I was at an amazing event, in a really fun outfit, with a superhot guy. And there was nothing I could do this exact moment to help either James or Brooklyn.

  I knew enough to know that particular rationalization was true. But I couldn’t decide if I was being logical or self-centered.

  I was probably both. But it didn’t change any of the facts.

  “You look great yourself,” I told him.

  He looked genuinely pleased by the compliment, even though he had to already know he was the best-looking guy in a very crowded room.

  It occurred to me then that he must always be the best-looking guy in the room. There wasn’t much competition for him anywhere on the planet. Maybe Colton. But when you took in the subtleties, Max easily beat Colton.

  “Let’s dance,” I said, and I linked my arm with his.

  “Now you’re talking.”

  The band was playing a slow song, and I nestled into Max’s arms. It felt good to give in and accept that I’d done my best. I was tired now, and I had to take a breather.

  My world shrank to Max, the warmth of his skin, the movement of his body and the beat of his heart.

  He was a better dancer than I’d expected. He was tall, and he was sturdy and muscular. I was surprised he was also graceful.

  “You’re good at this,” I said, gliding along, happy to follow where he led.

  “You’re very easy to dance with.”

  “It’s more than just that. You’ve practiced, or maybe had lessons.” I tipped my head to look up at him. “Did you take dance lessons?”

  “Guilty. My parents insisted.”

  “Why? I mean, of all things, why would they insist you learn to dance.” I indulged myself in tracing the contours of his bicep and shoulder. “You’re not exactly built to do it professionally.”

  “My grandparents thought socializing was important for the business. Colton and I were constantly conscripted to entertain teenage girls.”

  “Boo-hoo. That must have been such a hardship.”

  “Most of them were a foot taller than us.”

  “Late bloomers?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I find that hard to imagine.” I couldn’t picture Max as a short teenager.

  “I was skinny, too,” he said with a laugh.

  “I thought you played second base.”

  “Not in junior high. What about you?”

  “Skinny, yes. And I had braces. Plus with the red hair and freckles.”

  He smoothed a hand over my hair. His touch sent a warmth flowing down my spine.

  “I like this color,” he said.

  “I like it now, too, but I sure didn’t like it in high school.”

  “And I like your freckles,” he said on a smile. “They’re subtle, but interesting...pretty.”

  “They faded a lot.”

  “Well, you’re perfect now.”

  I couldn’t help a short chuckle at that. “You’re the one who’s perfect. I expect the girls couldn’t get enough of you after you made it through puberty.”

  “Volume has never been a problem.”

  “A little full of ourselves, are we?”

  “That’s not the way I meant it. It’s easy enough to get a date. The hard part is finding someone you want to spend more than an evening with.”

  “You must have had girlfriends.”

  “A few.”

  “When was the last one?”

  “I’m not going to talk to you about my girlfriends.”

  “Come on. Dish.”

  “You tell me about your boyfriends.”

  “All imperfect. Every one of them had a fatal flaw.” I was only half joking. “It turns out I’m very fussy.”

  “Yeah? How am I stacking up so far?”

  I couldn’t read his voice, so I looked up to see his expression. I couldn’t read that, either.

  “You’re not my boyfriend.”

  “Not yet.”

  Now I knew he had to be joking.

  “I’m gone tomorrow, next day at the latest,” I reminded him.

  I was reminded of Brooklyn, and that brought a wave of worry and sadness.

  Max seemed to sense my mood, and he drew me closer.

  “You really are going to have to give her space.”

  I knew it was my only choice. Brooklyn was angry with me right now. Anything I said was going to make it worse.

  I pushed her from my mind.

  Instead, I marveled at how perfectly I fit in Max’s arms. I mean every curve, every nook, everything about me matched perfectly with him. I’d never felt such a huge, encompassing, incredible hug in all of my life.

  I didn’t want to move. I just wanted to stand here molded against him while I absorbed his essence.

  I remembered being naked in his arms. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent, taking myself back to those few hours in his hotel suite. Arousal pulsed through me, tickling my skin, heating my core. I wanted him all over again.

  He kissed my neck, his hot tender lips sprinkling shivers of delight from the curve of my shoulder to the tip of my breasts.

  I barely stopped myself from moaning out loud.

  I wanted his kiss. I wanted his mouth. I wanted the deep soul-satisfying kisses that had guided me to paradise.

  “Kiss me,” I whispered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His lips unerringly found mine. They touched lightly at first, then firmer, then harder.

  I squeezed my arms around his neck, and he pressed the small of my back, arching me against his hard thighs.

  His tongue thrust into my mouth and I answered with enthusiasm. I knew where this was leading, and I couldn’t wait to get there. Max was a fantastic lover. I
wanted nothing more than to stop time and be swallowed all over again by his spell.

  A warning ticked at my brain. I ignored it, but it became insistent.

  Something was wrong. I was missing some vital piece of information.

  The music swelled, and I remembered we were in a ballroom. We were in public, surrounded by other people.

  My eyes flew open with my gasp.

  “What?” he asked.

  I looked frantically around us to see who might be watching. But Max had danced us into a dark corner. No one could see us. I didn’t need to worry.

  My fear disappeared. But Max still held me, so my arousal was strong as ever. I throbbed where we touched. My lips tingled from his kisses. I wanted everything we’d had that night—all over again.

  Our gazes locked. Heat seemed to leap through the space between us.

  It was odd the way it happened, like we had some kind of cosmic connection. Make that a solar connection, or microwaves or something. It was hot and magnetic and irresistible.

  “Layla.” His voice was strained.

  “Can we go back?” I asked. My voice sounded breathless, like an Old Hollywood movie star posing provocatively in a long silhouette dress.

  “You mean to the hotel?” he asked.

  “Yes.” That was exactly what I meant. “Your room. Now.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He was moving for the exit before the words were out of his mouth.

  * * *

  There was a privacy screen in the limo, and I could only hope the intercom was turned off because Max pulled me straight into his lap. I willingly picked up the kisses right where we’d left off.

  His jacket was stiff and boxy, so I reached underneath. I felt my way up his chest, over his pecs.

  I felt his heartbeat. It was deep, strong and fast.

  My heart was racing, too, pumping energy, sending hormonal messages to every corner of my body. I loved the feel of arousal, the heightened senses, the tingling waves of heat that left my body begging to be touched.

  I found Max’s hand. I set it on my bare thigh.

  His touch was hot and sure.

  He slipped his palm higher, which was what I wanted. It was exactly what I wanted.

  I arched and moaned into our kiss. I teased his tongue with mine, clinging to his broad shoulders, shamelessly enjoying the stokes of his fingertips going higher and higher.