by Fiona Brand
There was only one viable decision.
She had to finish with Ben. Forever.
She met Ben’s patient gaze and tried not to be mesmerized by the fact that his T-shirt was plastered to his chest and abs.
“Thanks for offering me a real, live date some time when it suits you,” she said with steely sweetness. “But I think I’d rather fling myself off the nearest cliff and die a watery death in the Atlantic Ocean than attempt another date with you.”
* * *
Feeling abnormally calm, Sophie drove back to her apartment. As she stepped in the door, she texted Francesca that she would be a few minutes late. Francesca texted back to say no problem, Nick was going to be late, too, so she would rebook for seven.
Walking through to the bathroom, Sophie dragged off her damp, rumpled clothes and threw them in the laundry basket. She never wanted to see those particular items again.
After a cooling shower, she changed into a white camisole and a pair of loose white linen pants. Five minutes to apply makeup and fix her hair in a loose knot, and she was ready to go.
It wasn’t until she walked into Alfresco’s that her calm began to disintegrate. She was early and the first to arrive, so the waitress showed her to one of the tables out front.
While she was waiting, instead of checking Buffy’s social media pages the way she usually did in her downtime, Sophie decided to check up on Francesca. What she found was interesting. Normally Francesca posted multiple pics of whomever she was currently dating, but there were no snaps of Ben. Even more telling, there was not one mention of him. In terms of Francesca’s online social life, Ben did not exist.
Which all seemed to confirm that Francesca didn’t even particularly like Ben. As far as Sophie knew, she wasn’t attracted to him, either. Francesca’s type was Ben’s polar opposite; someone who was kind, friendly and open, and who possessed manners.
Something was definitely off.
The clincher for Sophie was that for Francesca to break their pact to keep their hands off each other’s guys by dating Ben meant that something had happened that Sophie was not aware of, or Francesca was being pressured in some way.
She closed the page and slipped her phone back in her bag. Seconds later, Nick arrived, still dressed for the office and looking harassed.
A pretty young waitress materialized, delivered glasses and water, and dropped menus in front of them.
Nick handed his back, and said curtly, “Thanks, I won’t be staying.”
Francesca hadn’t yet arrived, but Sophie knew what she liked, so she went ahead and ordered the tapas and the homemade lemonade for which the café was justifiably famous.
Nick waited until the waitress had left before giving Sophie a blunt look. “You know what I’m going to say.”
Nick had his stern look on, but it was a fact that he never scared her. She had seen him at age eleven, chubby, with glasses. That was twenty or so years ago, but still... “If it’s about John Atraeus, don’t bother. There is no relationship. There is no problem.”
He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “And Ben?”
She kept her expression bland, all the while wondering exactly what Nick had heard. “Ditto.”
“That’s not what the media are saying.”
Deciding to completely ignore what the media might be saying about her and Ben, she briefly told him about John’s head injury and the meeting with the Japanese businessmen.
Nick shot her an irritable look. “Why didn’t you ring me? I would have helped him out, without the headlines.”
Sophie studied Nick’s set jaw. He had a thing about car accidents, because years ago he had been the first on the scene of the fatal accident that had killed their father. The accident, and the loss, had stunned them all, but Nick had always been haunted by the fact that he had not gotten to his father in time to help him. “I was on the spot. It was no problem to help John.”
“That’s the second accident in the past year,” he growled. “And you didn’t tell me about the first one, either.”
“You were out of the country at the time. Besides, I wasn’t badly hurt, just a sprained wrist and a couple of bruised—”
“I know exactly what happened to you. Aside from the wrist, you had a few minor cuts and bruises and an injury to your lower back that was serious enough that you were lifted out in a stretcher and helicoptered to Whangarei Hospital. You spent two nights in the hospital before insisting that Francesca help check you out, in a wheelchair, your arm in a sling, against doctor’s orders. I read the traffic police report. The only thing that saved you was the fact that when the car rolled, you didn’t hit any big trees, and the thick manuka scrub acted like a brake, stopping you from rolling farther and plunging over the edge into the sea. Go on with the story.”
Sophie poured water into the glasses. “I went to the hospital with John and got a taxi to take him back to his hotel. When I discovered he’d lost any memory of the last few hours, naturally, I decided to stay and keep an eye on him—”
“And that had nothing to do with Ben, right?”
Sophie decided to ignore Nick’s sardonic tone. “I rang Mom to get advice. She seemed to think staying was exactly the right thing to—”
“Mom is not a doctor.”
Sophie gave Nick a very direct stare. She had learned at about the age of three that the only way to counter all of the macho dictatorial aggression of her brothers was to fight fire with fire. “Did I say she was? I think we both know she’s a very experienced paramedic. Besides the other doctor, the one who saw John at the hospital, said I should stay, also.”
Nick pinched his nose, then got up to pull out a chair for Francesca, who had just strolled in off the street. “Let’s just stick with figuring out exactly what you were up to with Atraeus. You’ve treated him like the invisible man for the last couple of years. Pretty sure I’ve heard you describe him as boring as a post a couple of times.”
Francesca sat down and gave Sophie an icy look before flipping open the drinks list with a small snap. “John Atraeus is not boring. He’s...nice.”
Sophie frowned at the way Francesca was behaving, but they couldn’t have a conversation about it until Nick had gone.
Nick’s gaze glinted with impatience. “Sophie, back to the conversation. Atraeus. I called him earlier. He said you were going to New York.”
Sophie dragged her attention back to Nick. “To his mall opening in Manhattan, which I’m thinking will be great for my business. I don’t know why this matters so much to you, unless you think it’s going to somehow hurt your own precious deal.”
“It matters because you’re my sister.”
Sophie’s jaw locked. Every time one of her brothers tried to take the fatherly role with her, especially on matters of the heart, a stubbornness rose inside her and she found herself closing off. It had nothing to do with the age difference, which was negligible.
More probably it was because all four of her alpha, super-tycoon brothers were clueless when it came to relationships. Damian was still single, but Gabriel, Nick and Kyle were married. And the only reason that had happened was because each one of their wives had taken a hardline approach that had eventually delivered results.
She appreciated Nick’s protective attitude, which meant he loved her. But Nick wanting to pry into her private life and imagining he could offer her relationship advice that she might actually take was, quite frankly, scary.
Nick’s phone vibrated. He took it out of his pocket and checked the screen. “I’ve got to go.”
Sophie suddenly remembered that Nick was scheduled to be at a business conference in Los Angeles. “I thought you were supposed to have left town yesterday. And that you were taking Elena with you?”
“We delayed the travel by a day. Elena felt she needed to see her doctor before she flew—”
> “You didn’t say she was sick!”
Francesca abandoned the drinks menu. “I was just talking to Elena. She’s not sick.”
The penny dropped. Sophie stared at Nick, who was now grinning. “You’re having a baby?”
“In six months’ time. Elena didn’t want to say anything until she made sure the pregnancy was good to go.”
Sophie was over the moon for Nick and Elena. They’d been trying for a family for a while, and there was nothing she would like better than another cute little niece or nephew to spoil. But as she congratulated Nick, an odd tension ran through her, a sense of time passing—and bypassing—her. It wasn’t that she wanted to be a mother yet; it was just that seeing how happy they were made her aware of the emptiness of her own personal life.
For the past two-and-a half years she had been stalled, courtesy of her fixation on Ben. To date, he had been her only lover, and now she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find that special someone who would actually love her back.
A buzzing noise had Nick glancing at his phone again. He pushed to his feet as he did so. “It’s Mom. We told her about the baby this morning, so now she’s planning on visiting. This is going to take a while.”
As Nick stepped out, a waitress delivered their lemonade and the tapas. The restaurant was starting to fill up with a steady trickle of the dinner crowd. There was a pleasant, relaxed buzz of conversation, which Sophie would have enjoyed if it wasn’t for the unfamiliar tension that had sprung up between her and Francesca.
Sophie picked up a baby stuffed pepper, then froze as a lean, broad-shouldered guy walked out of the darkened interior of the restaurant. She caught the clean lines of his profile and jaw, the five-o’clock shadow and, for a disorienting moment, saw Ben.
Her heart jolted even as she recognized that it wasn’t Ben. The man’s smile was too easy, his features too smooth, nothing like Ben’s rough-edged masculinity and air of command.
And right there was her problem, because it was a fact that she liked that Ben was so edgy and difficult. If Ben was more classically handsome and charming, like John Atraeus, she wouldn’t have looked at him twice.
A little grimly, she sipped her lemonade, barely noticing the cool, sweet bite. Time to take the bull by the horns. “I know you can’t possibly want to date Ben, which means he must have pressured you—”
“He didn’t pressure me.”
Sophie stared at Francesca. They had never, ever been at odds over a guy, and she couldn’t understand why it was happening now. Until just a few hours ago she would have bet her own business that Ben and Francesca had nothing in common. “I just don’t understand why he asked you.”
“When he could have asked you?” Francesca slapped a generous helping of pâté on a chunk of bread. “Maybe he finds me attractive?”
Sophie instantly rejected the idea that Ben was more attracted to Francesca than her. That logic would fly only if he hadn’t slept with Sophie last week, then kissed her today.
None of it made any sense.
The bottom line for Sophie was that, no matter what Ben’s reasons were, dating Francesca after what they had done in the past few days was crossing a line.
Francesca’s gaze clashed with hers. She selected another slice of ciabatta bread and tore it in two. “If you must know, Ben asked me if I’d help him out. Apparently, he’s having a problem with the daughter of one of his investors chasing after him. I said yes.”
“Buffy Holt.”
Francesca’s head jerked up. “How did you know that?”
“Her social media accounts are practically wallpapered with pictures of Ben.”
Buffy had a habit of cataloging her relationships from beginning to end on social media. She had an impressive list of exes, most of whom were involved in the music industry and sported multiple tattoos and piercings. Ben, who was older and in business, was a definite departure, which seemed to suggest that Buffy had finally reached the end of her rock-chick phase and had fixated on Ben as husband material.
A little bleakly, Sophie thought that someone should tell Buffy she was wasting her time, since Ben and the word husband did not belong in the same sentence.
“You’ve been following Ben online? Are you crazy? I told you not to do that!”
Francesca’s outraged response surprised Sophie, but it was a good surprise, because she sounded more like the Francesca she knew. The Francesca who was not attracted to Ben and who didn’t even like him very much. Sophie picked up her phone. “You can’t date him.”
Francesca’s gaze was direct and distinctly chilly. “Why. Not?”
Sophie flicked through to Sally Parker’s site and found the insulting headline from the other day that revealed what Ben really thought of them both: Any Man Would Have to be Brain-Dead to Date Either of the Messena Twins.
She slid the phone across the table so Francesca could read it. “That’s why.”
Francesca went red, then white, then red again. “So why on earth do you want to date him? Because that’s what this is all about—” Her eyes widened. “You still want him.”
Sophie stared bleakly at the tapas, her appetite suddenly gone. “It’s more that I want to stop wanting him.”
There was a brief, tense silence. “Is that why you slept with John?”
“I told you I didn’t sleep with John.”
“You didn’t tell me that!”
Sophie felt her cheeks warming. From memory she had been upset enough with Francesca’s conviction that she had slept with John one night after sleeping with Ben that she had deliberately left her thinking the worst. “I stayed the night in his hotel suite, but not in his bed. Like I tried to tell you when you rang earlier, I was just helping him out.”
Briefly she explained about the accident.
Francesca frowned. “Let me get this right. John’s got amnesia?”
“Just involving a few hours.” And then the devastated look on Francesca’s face registered.
Suddenly a whole lot of disparate facts made sense. Francesca wanting to make herself over more radically than she’d ever done, her comment that maybe there was someone special. The fact that she had spent the night with someone on Saturday.
“You slept with John.” Now Francesca’s behavior over the last couple of days made perfect sense. She thought Sophie had poached her guy. “I didn’t know. If I had I wouldn’t have stayed the night in his suite. It was the accident thing. I just wanted to help.”
“And that’s why you phoned Mom. Not because he’s a boyfriend, but for medical advice.”
“If it helps, John only just likes me.”
“He invited you to Manhattan—”
“Only so we can talk business. But in any case,” Sophie said with sudden decisiveness, “I’m not going. You are.”
Francesca’s gaze was stark. “I can’t. What if he doesn’t remember?”
“Does it matter? If there’s something special between you, that won’t have gone away. Just...redo whatever you did the night you slept together.”
There was a long pause during which the clink of plates and the buzz of conversation seemed deafening. Then Francesca’s expression lightened. “Why didn’t I think of that? Okay, I’ll go to New York.”
“Great. And I’ll go on the date with Ben tomorrow.”
Francesca frowned. “I don’t see how Ben’s going to agree to that.”
“He’s not going to know it’s me.” Not until she felt like telling him.
“You mean, do a switch? Now that you didn’t steal my guy, I agree that you can date Ben. But I don’t see how the twin-switch thing is going to work. For a start, you’ll have to dye your hair blond. You hate blond hair.”
Relief that Francesca had come around to the idea of the switch so quickly banished the horrible tension that had held her ever since she’d heard about the
date. It was just such a huge relief that Francesca hadn’t fallen under Ben’s spell after all. “It’ll only be for a short time, then I’ll change back.” Sophie stabbed another olive. “According to the media, Ben’s got a thing for blondes.”
Francesca looked suddenly defensive. “What’s so wrong with that? A lot of men do. John does.”
Which explained Francesca’s decision to go blond. A decision that had worked out for Francesca, until John had lost his memory.
It dawned on Sophie that with Ben’s well-publicized penchant for blondes, attracting his attention had always required something more than her usual low-key approach, which relied on...actually, nothing more than just being herself.
Sophie considered the fact that her conservative mind-set and hair color had meant the odds had been against her all along. No wonder it had taken eighteen agonizing months for Ben to respond to the attraction she had been certain had sizzled between them all along. And then, when he had finally responded, she could not forget that she had been the one who’d had to take the initiative to get him into bed.
It had been no different two nights ago. Somehow, just like the first time, she had managed to convince herself that Ben wanted her, and then had taken charge and rushed him into her bed.
Twice she had seduced Ben, and twice he had ditched her. The only time he had credibly taken the initiative had been when he had followed her yesterday and kissed her out on the street. But she wasn’t sure if that counted, since he had backed off fast afterward.
As if he had regretted kissing her.
She couldn’t help thinking that, once her hair was blond, it would be interesting to find out if Ben treated her any differently.
Francesca dissected a piece of roasted eggplant. Absently Sophie noted that Francesca’s nails were a deep, glossy pink that was far more eye-catching than the pale or clear polish Sophie usually wore. If she was going to succeed with Ben, clearly subtlety was out.