by Day Leclaire
“I’m game, if you are.” He levered himself upward, his fingers just glancing off the receiver. He half rose and tried again. Behind him, he heard her coffee mug clatter into the bathtub.
“Oh. God.”
At first he thought she’d scalded herself and whipped around to help. And then he knew.
Time was up.
Chapter Five
“Who the hell are you?” Caitlyn demanded.
“Your husband.”
“Don’t treat me like a fool. You’re not Lazz.”
She forced down the surge of hysteria battering to escape. But she couldn’t keep herself from folding in on herself in an attempt to hide her nudity beneath the scant covering of rapidly dissipating bubbles. Though why she bothered after what the two of them had done last night, she couldn’t say.
“Lazz has a scar on his hip. I saw it when we went swimming. You don’t have a scar.”
“No, I don’t. And no, I’m not Lazz.” He slowly rose, water sheeting off him as he stepped from the tub and snagged a towel. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m your husband.”
It took every ounce of self-control to keep from totally losing it, tremors of fear ripping through her. She felt hideously exposed, and more than a little frightened. She’d married this man—a complete stranger—and didn’t even know his name. She’d made love to him all through the night. Frolicked like a child in a bubble-filled bathtub. But she didn’t have a clue who he was, other than a dead ringer for Lazz.
She fought to apply reason to insanity, to use what little logic and common sense remained at her disposal, while all around her bricks and mortar crumbled. “Since you look exactly like Lazz, I’m assuming you’re related. His brother?” Her brain gave a kick-start. “His twin brother?”
“Yes.”
“Lazz never mentioned a twin,” she stated tightly. “Is this your idea of a joke? Is he in on whatever amusing little scam you’re trying to pull? Or is this all your own idea?”
“This isn’t a joke or a scam. And if you’ll look closely, you’ll see I’m not the least amused. Here.” He ripped another towel off the glass-and-wrought-iron rack and held it out to her. “I suspect you’ll be more comfortable having this conversation if you aren’t naked.”
She struggled to hold tears at bay. “I can’t believe I’m having his conversation at all. I want to know who the hell you are and what sort of hideous game you’re playing.”
Clutching the towel to her breasts, she stood and wrapped the thick length of cotton around herself. Lazz—no, not Lazz—cupped her elbow to steady her as she climbed out of the water. She almost thanked him before catching it back at the last instant.
“Cara—”
She yanked free of his hold. “Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that. Now, who are you?”
“Marco Dante.”
“Marco.” She recognized the name. Hadn’t she heard Britt rhapsodize endlessly over the past six weeks about the “charming” one of the Dante brothers? Why, in the name of everything holy, had her friend neglected to mention that Marco and Lazz were twins? “How did this happen? Why did it happen? Does Lazz know what you’ve pulled?”
He removed a terry cloth robe from the back of the door without answering and handed it over. She didn’t want to appreciate his thoughtfulness. She didn’t want him doing or saying anything that would make her feel kindly disposed toward him. She shrugged on the robe and belted it tightly around her waist before allowing the towel to drop to the floor at her feet.
Lazz—Marco—didn’t bother with a robe but exited into the bedroom with the towel slung carelessly around his waist. She desperately wanted him to cover up, to hide the impressive chest she’d peppered with kisses. To conceal those amazing arms that had held her with such tender strength. To turn from mind-blowing lover back into a normal, average man, despite the fact that there wasn’t, and never would be, anything normal or average about him.
To her relief, once they’d reached the sitting room, Marco gave her some much-needed breathing space. “First, this is no game,” he began. “And it happened because Lazz gave me no other choice. At least none, given the limited amount of time I had to work with.”
She held up a hand to silence him, wishing she’d chugged that coffee instead of losing it in the bathwater. Spying the coffeemaker and—hallelujah—a half pot of coffee remaining, she crossed the room and poured herself a cup. Then a second. Satisfied that her brain was firing on at least half its cylinders, she faced the man she’d married only hours earlier.
“I need you to explain things, but I need them explained in a way I can understand. So, I’m going to ask the questions and you’re going to answer them, simply and concisely. Got it?”
He lifted a sooty eyebrow. “Logic, Caitlyn?”
She resented the knowing look in his eyes, a look accompanied by a familiar flash of humor. She lifted her chin to a combative angle. “It’s what I do best. Or did, until recently,” she corrected.
She struggled to come up with a logical first question, but for some reason it hovered just beyond her reach. All she could think of was that she’d been tricked into a bogus marriage by this man so that he could . . . Could what? Get her into bed? That didn’t make a bit of sense. He didn’t have to go through this sham of a wedding in order to accomplish that. Hit out at Lazz? Possibly. But, why?
She rubbed at the tension headache forming behind her temples, wishing with all her heart that she wore a business suit, had her reading glasses to hide behind, and a pad of paper and pen to help organize her thoughts.
“Okay, first question. Is there a rational beginning to all this? Someplace we can start from?”
“You’d like a point A?”
The poignancy of the question ripped into her, making it almost impossible to keep her voice steady enough to answer. “Yes. Point A would be an excellent place to start.”
“That’s easy enough.” His hazel eyes grew watchful and intent, while the color darkened to autumnal flashes of gold and brown. “You and I met the morning you started at Dantes,” he surprised her by saying. “In the lobby near the reception desk.”
She blinked in surprise. “That was you?”
“Yes.” He kept his voice even, though she sensed it cost him. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but apparently you thought I was Lazz.”
“The receptionist,” Caitlyn explained. “He told me you were Lazz. And since the head of personnel had already pointed out your brother to me during my interview. I assumed . . .” She trailed off with a tired shrug.
“A natural mistake.”
She inclined her head. “There’s no reason why I’d think there might be two of you, especially since no one’s mentioned anything about a twin in the interim. Maybe they thought I already knew.”
“If I’d realized that, I’d have corrected the misunderstanding right then and there and it would have saved us—” he swept a negligent hand through the air “—all this.”
He couldn’t be more wrong. She’d heard stories about Marco, stories that ensured she’d have given short shrift to any advances coming from the sort of man cut from her grandfather’s cloth. “Just to be clear? I would never get involved with a man like you.”
“But we are involved, cara. More than involved,” he replied gently. He didn’t give her time to argue his statement. “I think I know the next part of the story. Lazz didn’t bother straightening out the mix-up in the lobby. And I was sent off on a sudden emergency. A very convenient sudden emergency.”
She caught the ripple of tension whenever he mentioned his brother’s name. Something had happened there, and somehow she’d been put in the middle of it. Before this ended she’d find a way to change that. “You believe Lazz is responsible for your change in job assignment? Why?” She read the answer in his gaze and shook her head in disbelief. “Because of me? You must be joking.”
Marco leaned against the archway between the bedroom and sitting area and folded his arms acr
oss his chest. “He wanted you,” he said with a shrug. “He didn’t realize you were already taken.”
“Taken!” Her temper flashed like wildfire. “Let me clarify something for you, Mr. Dante. Despite current evidence to the contrary, I’m not some brainless object to be picked up or discarded or, even worse, fought over by a pair of schoolboys. I make my own choices. I always have and I always will.”
“I’m relieved to hear that, since it means you won’t give in to whatever demands Lazz makes when he hears about our marriage. I won’t have him coming between us again.”
She sucked in a breath and felt her face go white with shock. “Dear God. Are you saying that the events of the past twenty-four hours are your way of retaliating against your brother?” Her voice rose despite her best attempts to control it. “Are you kidding me? Just because he succeeded in dating someone you’d chosen for yourself? You did this to me so you could hit out at Lazz?”
He straightened, a wash of color sweeping along his elegant cheekbones. “You chose Lazz because you didn’t realize we were the ones who connected that morning in the lobby. Who bonded.”
“We shook hands, Marco! That was it.”
“And experienced The Inferno.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s The Inferno?”
“It’s a connection all Dante males experience when they first touch their soul mate.” He sank his thumb into the itch centered in his palm. “A burning that never goes away. We experienced the first time we touched.”
So it had a name, came her first thought, before she downed the last of her coffee, praying it would help her make sense of what had to be total nonsense. “And you actually believe in this superstition or fantasy or whatever?”
He took instant exception. “It’s not superstition or fantasy. All the Dantes believe in it. Well, except for Lazz.” He considered for an instant. “And possibly Nicolò. The jury’s still out on my cousins, only because they haven’t had it happen to them, yet. But that’s not the point, damn it. It’s real. It happened to us. And before long you’ll believe, as well.”
She glared at him. She didn’t want to accept a single word he said, even though it helped explain how she’d ended up here, married to a complete stranger. For some bizarre reason—other than The Inferno—she’d decided to chase after Zorro and gotten herself in this mess, all in the name of a little excitement. This was why steady and predictable won the race every time. Still . . .
She shook her head, more for her own benefit than his. “I don’t believe you. Not that it matters, because after today I’m never going to see you again.”
He simply smiled. “And why would you want to do that? We’re married. Did last night mean so little to you?”
To her embarrassment, the tears she’d managed to hold at bay earlier escaped. “It meant everything to me.” The words escaped in tight rush, emotion threatening to close her throat. “Or it would have if you hadn’t lied to me. You committed fraud. You knew full well that if you’d introduced yourself as Marco, I’d have had nothing to do with you. So you pretended to be Lazz in order to trick me into marriage. To trick me into bed. I guarantee a good lawyer will put a fast end to our marriage.”
To her dismay, he approached, rousing emotions she had no business experiencing. “Yesterday your friends warned you Lazz planned to propose at Primo and Nonna’s anniversary party. Tell me, Caitlyn. What answer would you have given him if he had?”
She couldn’t quite bring herself to meet his intense gaze. “I don’t see what that has to do—”
“You would have refused him, wouldn’t you?” he pressed. “At the very least you would have asked for time. You told me as much last night.”
“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “That’s what I would have done. So?”
He hooked her chin and forced her to look at him. Passion vied with angry frustration. “Why did you change your mind? Why did you agree to marry me?”
She jerked free of his touch. “Temporary insanity combined with too much champagne,” she blatantly fibbed.
“Ah, cara,” he murmured with a laugh. “You can’t lie to me. Last night had nothing to do with too much wine and you know it. You left the party with me, married me, made love to me, because you recognized on a visceral level that I’m the man with whom you belong. And you planned to refuse Lazz for the same reason. Just as you sensed the connection between us, you felt the lack with him.”
“Why didn’t you simply explain about the mix-up?” It was a cry from the heart. “Why resort to subterfuge?”
“I ran out of time,” he said simply. “Lazz planned to propose and even if you’d refused him, you would have refused any advances on my part, as well. Don’t you understand? He doesn’t love you, sweetheart.”
“And you do?”
“I’m not going to answer that because you won’t believe anything I say at this point. Only time will convince you whether or not we’re meant to be together. Lazz has decided that you two have enough in common to make marriage a logical choice, but that’s not reasonable grounds for marriage.”
“It’s more reasonable than the way you went about it,” she retorted. “Until last night, we’d been in each other’s company for a whole five minutes. And now you’ve locked us into this bogus marriage.”
“It’s not bogus,” he corrected calmly. “My legal name is on the marriage license. The priest used it during the ceremony.”
She stared in dismay. “He did?”
He hesitated. “I might have distracted you about then. It’s possible you weren’t paying strict attention.”
“Oh, Marco.” Satisfaction flared to life in his eyes, brought on, she suspected, by her use of his real name. “This isn’t going to work. You realize that, don’t you?”
“You’re right.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when his comment sank in. “I am?” she asked, a tad shocked that he’d given so easily. Or was it disappointment?
“It’s not going to work if you’re unwilling to take a chance.”
He wrapped his arms around her. She shuddered at the familiar feel of his arms, at the scent of the oils from their bath that still clung to his bare chest. More than anything she wanted to close her eyes and return to those magical hours they’d shared the previous night. To tumble into bed with this man and sleep, secure in the certainty that all was right with her world.
Only it wasn’t. Not any longer.
“I can’t stay married to you. I don’t know you.”
“Yes, you do.” He settled a hand over her heart. “In here you know me better than anyone. Or do you think that’s not enough? That what we shared last night won’t last?”
“It can’t. We’re strangers, Marco.”
“We’re lovers, Caitlyn. And in time we’ll be friends and companions as well as lovers. In time we’ll learn each other’s secrets. We’ll fight on occasion and adjust to accommodate each other. We’ll talk and laugh. And all the while this bond we share, this Inferno, will bind us together until we think and feel as one. All you have to do is give our marriage a chance.”
“You’re asking me to build a life with you based on fairy tales and wishful thinking. There’s no foundation here,” she said desperately. “Sex isn’t enough.”
“We’ll create that foundation together over time.”
“What about Lazz?”
A change swept over him. Where before he’d been the ultimate charmer, now a toughness tautened muscle and sinew and struck like flint in his voice. “I’ll deal with Lazz.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” she urged. “He was attracted to me, just as you were.”
“Don’t.” He moderated his tone slightly. “Don’t defend him to me. What he did was carefully calculated. He knew I wanted you and deliberately intervened to keep us apart.”
She rested her palms against the warmth of his chest, a small plea entering her voice. “I can’
t believe it was deliberate, Marco.”
“I won’t discuss this with you, Caitlyn. I just want your promise to keep your distance from now on.”
“Because I’m yours now?” His silence said it all, and she fought free of his embrace. “You realize that’s going to be difficult since both Lazz and I work in finance? Our paths cross on a regular basis.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
That didn’t sound good. “You’ll take care of it how?”
But he simply shook his head. “He’s my brother, Caitlyn. My twin brother. He’s my problem from now on.”
If she were smart, she’d put an end to things right now. Walk—hell, run—in the opposite direction. But memories of their hours together intruded. Of the picture-perfect wedding and a night unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. As much as logic and reason warned her to end things, irrational desire drew Caitlyn to Marco.
As though sensing her weakness, he captured her hand in his and gave a gentle tug. “Kiss me, Caitlyn. Just once. Kiss me. Marco. And not my brother.”
She could read between the lines. He was asking for what amounted to a first kiss, because in a way that’s what it would be. Hurt and anger warred with a desire she couldn’t suppress, no matter how she might long to. The connection he’d referred to, a connection she wanted to deny, continued to link them. Not that she believed his superstitious nonsense about The Inferno. All it did was gave a name to the uncontrollable emotions she’d experienced in the lobby. It was a pretty bow used to dress up a battered box. This was lust, not love, no matter how bright and shiny the ribbon.
Caitlyn stared at Marco, determined to turn away. But it was almost as though her body divorced itself from her brain. Without a word she wrapped her arms around his neck. She watched him closely, waiting for a glint of satisfaction or triumph. But the only emotion that came through was a stoic longing and a barely banked heat. Slowly she pulled his head down to hers and gave him the kiss he’d requested.
She’d planned to make it fast and passionless. To prove that whatever had existed between them had been destroyed by his duplicity. And she would have, except for one small problem. The instant her mouth touched his, she lost total control.