Читать онлайн книгу «Resorting To The Truth» автора Lisa Dyson

Resorting To The Truth
Lisa Dyson
In love we trust…She may have found the twin sister she never knew she had…but Charlotte Harrington also lost her mother. And now she’s lost her artistic inspiration, too. Escaping to a lush tropical resort is her best shot at getting something of her own back again. She just needs to focus and somehow not let Sam Briton’s guarded smile distract her.Managing a hotel and single fatherhood puts plenty on Sam’s plate, Charlotte gets that. And the suspicion in his deep blue eyes can only lead to big-time trouble for a woman who struggles with the truth. So why is she driven by the need to convince him that love is worth opening his heart?


In love we trust...
She may have found the twin sister she never knew she had...but Charlotte Harrington also lost her mother. And now she’s lost her artistic inspiration, too. Escaping to a lush tropical resort is her best shot at getting something of her own back again. She just needs to focus and somehow not let Sam Briton’s guarded smile distract her.
Managing a hotel and single fatherhood puts plenty on Sam’s plate, Charlotte gets that. And the suspicion in his deep blue eyes can only lead to big-time trouble for a woman who struggles with the truth. So why is she driven by the need to convince him that love is worth opening his heart?
Sam felt himself drifting closer to Charlotte.
Her lips were slightly parted, moist from the drink she’d been sipping. He wondered what her mouth tasted like...
“Hey, you two, come on out on the dance floor!”
He didn’t know who yelled, but it was enough to sober Sam. “Would you like to dance?” He asked the question the way he’d been doing everything since Charlotte arrived at the resort—without thinking it through.
Charlotte blinked and stood up. Sam took that as an affirmative.
He rose from his chair and followed her to the makeshift dance floor, where she turned to face him. How much trouble could they get into dancing to this fast-paced Taylor Swift song anyway?
But they no sooner got into the rhythm when the song ended and a slow ballad came on.
Sam did the only thing he could think to do. He put his arms out and she unhesitatingly slid against him, as if they’d been doing this for years.
This was a very bad idea.
Dear Reader (#ulink_3c18803a-5ee0-53a9-9a83-a6179524fc36),
If you read Allie Miller’s book, Catching Her Rival, then you’ll be happy to know that this is her twin sister’s story. Wondering what was in that letter Charlotte found? You don’t have long to wait!
Resorting to the Truth begins with Charlotte Harrington reading that letter from her deceased mother, which turns Charlotte’s world upside down. Thankfully, Sam Briton enters her life, even if they have a rocky beginning. He had a problem with Charlotte’s twin sister, Allie, several years earlier, and he naturally assumes Charlotte is just as dishonest. Unfortunately, Charlotte doesn’t help her case with some of the decisions she makes...
I hope you enjoy reading Charlotte’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please visit my website at lisadyson.com (http://www.lisadyson.com) or send me an email at lisa@lisadyson.com. I’d love to hear from you!
Happy reading,
Lisa Dyson
Resorting to the Truth
Lisa Dyson


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LISA DYSON has been creating stories ever since getting an A on a fifth-grade writing assignment. She lives near Washington, DC, with her husband and their rescue dog with a blue tongue, aptly named Blue. She has three grown sons, a daughter-in-law and four adorable grandchildren. When not writing, reading or spending time with family, Lisa enjoys traveling, volunteering and rooting for her favorite sports teams.
For anyone searching for their roots, may you find happiness in whatever you discover
Acknowledgment (#ulink_ee31be8c-b802-50d9-bdf7-414e5d387434)
A special thank-you to my friend Chief David Parenti, Belmont Fire Department, Belmont, New Hampshire, for sharing his incredible knowledge about fire procedures. Any mistakes are entirely my own.
Contents
Cover (#u6b070a08-61ff-5f12-b021-3f4e8f8e67c9)
Back Cover Text (#ub40e809b-515c-5b47-b4d7-f66d3effac96)
Introduction (#u37ba6ad2-526e-507b-b042-9265fce8db71)
Dear Reader (#ulink_c3f543e4-4a64-56bc-bee1-ffac4eafac30)
Title Page (#u0a63063d-a5fd-59fa-a18d-619f5a25729f)
About the Author (#uebac5599-015a-568e-853b-c1326f4e4543)
Dedication (#u0aa25298-d26b-54b8-b2f6-e7f2af385795)
Acknowledgment (#ulink_d307c8b5-9638-5b3c-81ac-e1af3483ce4f)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_74dc22f5-d9d8-5444-8309-d2b02b75ff6c)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_12463889-4ce5-529a-ac03-05abd716a098)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_62fca342-ba9d-5e5e-ad9d-1e17932db608)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_9e75a5c7-e21a-5b73-b266-34559bc5d32e)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_66357f74-d3e7-5ac5-883a-e21816b1f35f)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c98613a4-5cb6-5bbc-8cd8-23afff9eb225)
Two months ago
CHARLOTTE HARRINGTON SAT alone in her living room, clutching the sealed envelope bearing her name, which was written in her deceased mother’s handwriting. The August sun had set a while ago. The only illumination in her Newport, Rhode Island, home was the fluorescent bulb in the lamp on the end table next to her.
She had no idea how much time had passed since her recently discovered twin sister, Allie Miller, had left with Charlotte’s neighbor, Jack Fletcher. They’d helped Charlotte unload her car after she’d returned from her Boston art show and wanted to give her privacy as she read her mother’s last words.
Charlotte placed the envelope on her lap and wiped her damp palms on her jeans. She’d crinkled the edge of the envelope from grasping it so tightly the moment she’d found it buried in a box of ticket stubs and other memorabilia her mother had saved. If not for the phone call that evening from Felicia Malone, a woman who claimed Charlotte’s mother had been seeing Felicia’s husband nearly three decades ago, Charlotte wouldn’t have gone searching for clues to the truth in her mother’s memory box. Charlotte had stored the box under her bed to sort through later, thinking nothing of significance was inside. The way the letter had been hidden under other memorabilia, she could only assume she wasn’t supposed to find it until after her mother’s passing. The idea made Charlotte even more curious about the letter’s contents.
During their phone conversation, Felicia had claimed that once a week, before Charlotte was born, her husband and Charlotte’s mother would meet at a movie theater and then go to a hotel room afterward.
Charlotte sniffed. More than a year had passed since losing her single, adoptive mother, but the grief Charlotte thought she had under control rolled over her like a tsunami.
She ran a finger across her name on the envelope. The stationery was familiar. Her mother had obviously written the letter shortly before her passing. Charlotte had supplied the stationery when her mother had wanted to write notes to friends after her health had begun to quickly decline. Her mother had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died a few months later.
Turning the pale yellow envelope over, Charlotte noticed the flap was barely sealed. Her lips twitched slightly. Mom had disliked the taste of envelope glue.
Charlotte slipped a finger under the flap and broke the seal. Even before she removed the contents, she could tell there were several handwritten pages.
She wiped her damp hands on her jeans again and pulled the pages from the envelope. She unfolded the letter, which featured a bouquet of white daisies—her mother’s favorite flower—in the upper-right corner of the first page. Charlotte recognized her mother’s tiny penmanship instantly. She swallowed the lump in her throat and began reading.
My dearest Charlotte,
As you read this letter, please know that my love for you knows no bounds. Even in death, which I know is imminent, my love for you will never end.
Tears welled in Charlotte’s eyes, her mother’s words too blurry to read. She blinked a few times and wiped away the tears running down her cheeks. Why hadn’t she grabbed some tissues before she sat down?
She sniffed and continued.
I’ve always been honest with you about your adoption, but there are details I’ve left out. Details I always thought I’d have time to explain, but I don’t want to add to your burden with my illness coming on so quickly. Hopefully, you are reading this after you’ve recovered emotionally.
You and I have talked openly about your adoption. How I brought you home as an infant, and you’ve been the light of my life ever since. But there are things I didn’t tell you. Maybe because I selfishly wanted you all to myself. It was always you and me against the world. I have no excuse that will make up for not telling you that you have a twin sister.
She had known! Charlotte tossed the letter aside, unable to continue as the sudden anger at her mother roiled inside her. No wonder she’d hidden this letter for Charlotte to find later. Her mother must have known how betrayed Charlotte would feel.
Why had her mother kept Charlotte’s twin sister, Allie, a secret? The sisters had lost out on so many years together because they hadn’t known about each other.
Charlotte and Allie had met by accident at a wedding two months ago, twenty-nine years after they’d been adopted by different families. Charlotte’s existence had been a huge surprise to Allie’s adoptive mother, but apparently Charlotte’s mother had always known.
Charlotte stood and paced in front of her sofa, clenching and unclenching her fists. Why on earth would her mother have kept such news from her? The entire time Allie and Charlotte had been looking for confirmation of their relationship, Charlotte had been positive her mother had been clueless about Allie.
Charlotte needed to know more. She picked up the letter from the sofa and continued reading, still pacing the room.
I want you to be able to find your sister, so you need to know that you weren’t born in upstate New York like your birth certificate says, but in Rhode Island. The lawyer who handled your adoption, Gerard Stone, had a forged birth certificate made for you at my request. It’s the birth certificate you’ve used your entire life, and I always dreaded the day someone would realize it was fake. But that never happened. Thankfully, it was never necessary for you to apply for a replacement.
You were born in Cranston, Rhode Island. The lawyer dealt with many female inmates at the correctional institute there who found themselves pregnant while incarcerated and wanted to put their newborns up for adoption. I met Gerry Stone when I worked at Malone and Malone, the CPA firm in the same shopping center as Gerry’s office.
Charlotte and Allie had already uncovered most of this information. The fact that it was the now-deceased Gerard Stone who had arranged for the forged birth certificate was the only new information. Allie and Charlotte had originally suspected they might be cousins and not twins because though they were unmistakably identical and born on the same day, they were born in different states.
Or so they thought until they were able to track down their original birth certificates in the lawyer’s files a few weeks ago. That ascertained they were twins, both born in Rhode Island, and then confirmed by the DNA results she and Allie had received in the mail that very day.
I was well aware that Gerry did things that weren’t quite legal.
No kidding. Forging a birth certificate, selling babies, separating twins. Those were probably only a few of his transgressions. Who knew what else that man had been up to?
I must admit I never would have dealt with him if not for the man who was the love of my life.
Huh? Charlotte’s mother had never mentioned a man. Oh, a few she’d dated in high school and college, but no one she had been serious about. Was she talking about Felicia’s husband?
Hank was a good man, a very good man, and he loved me, too. If he hadn’t already had a wife and children, he would have married me. Instead, I made him choose and he stayed with them. I understood, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. When Hank made his choice, I found another job because he and his wife owned the CPA firm I worked for.
This was all before you were born. I never could have adopted you without Hank’s help. He gave me the money I needed for the adoption. Not a loan, a gift. That’s how much he loved me. He didn’t want me to be alone and knew how much I desperately wanted a child, a family, because, as you know, I have no living relatives.
Charlotte had been a parting gift. Instead of jewelry, he’d helped her mother buy a baby to ease his conscience. A thirty-thousand-dollar payoff.
Hank died a few years ago, and I sat in the back of the church during his funeral. I left before the family filed past so I wouldn’t cause them more pain. As much as I will miss you, I look forward to reuniting with Hank when my time comes.
Charlotte paused. She had felt that her mother had given up after being diagnosed. Was Hank the reason why? She could have gone through an experimental treatment, but her mother had decided not to explore the option.
I hope you can find a way to forgive me for not sharing this information with you years ago. The more time that passed, the harder it became to tell you because I knew you’d be hurt and angry. Losing you and your respect would have been more than I could have endured.
Several years ago, I began a search for your birth mother. I thought you might someday want to know your family medical history. Your mother’s name is Barbara Sherwood. Unfortunately, she died from a drug overdose a few years after you were born. She didn’t name a father on your original birth certificate. I have no idea whether you have any other living relatives or where your twin sister is, but I hope you will take this information and find her so you’re not alone.
Again, I hope you will someday be able to forgive me and remember that everything I have ever done was because of my love for you.
Charlotte read the letter a second time and then dropped it onto the coffee table. She put her hands over her face and shook her head.
Her mother had lied to her. Not just a little lie, but a series of lies that had continued nearly three decades.
No wonder her mother had hidden this letter for Charlotte to find after her mother’s death.
Charlotte had believed her mother was the epitome of honesty. She had recently bragged to Allie that her mother would never have kept her twin’s existence a secret if she’d known about it. She was the kind of person who would return to a store if she’d been given too much change, just to correct the mistake.
Charlotte’s text message alert sounded on her cell phone. She picked up the phone from the dining room table. The message was from Allie.
Checking to make sure you’re okay. Jack and I are here if you need us.
She’d been truly blessed to have found Allie, and their meeting had been purely accidental. Charlotte’s friend Jack had taken her to a family wedding. His cousin was marrying Allie’s younger brother. After Jack confused Allie for Charlotte a few times, both he and Charlotte met Allie. Charlotte found her sister, and Jack fell in love with Allie. Charlotte couldn’t be happier for the two of them. In fact, she and Allie’s mother, who had warmly embraced Charlotte like a daughter, had been instrumental in getting them to face their feelings for each other.
She looked at Allie’s message on her phone again. What should she say? She was too exhausted physically and emotionally to talk right now.
Thanks. I appreciate it. Will talk to you in the morning.
Charlotte sent the message and headed upstairs to bed, leaving her mother’s letter on the coffee table.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_dea24c2a-c5b0-56ff-9664-ef38dbb05e68)
Two months later
ALLIE MILLER SAT in her office Thursday morning and checked her calendar. A thing she hadn’t done since September had rolled into October at the end of last week. It wasn’t as though she had a lot on the calendar, unfortunately. One thing stood out, though. The advertising conference she’d registered for months ago was in two days. Which meant she probably had an email this morning telling her she could check in electronically for her flight tomorrow.
Damn. She’d forgotten all about it. She’d signed up for it back when she’d been optimistic about her financial future and still worked at DP Advertising. Before she nearly joined her former boyfriend in federal prison, thanks to his extortion scheme that she hadn’t been aware of until after the guy’s arrest. That was followed by her being unfairly let go from DP because everyone assumed she’d known about it and was somehow involved.
She sighed. The conference would be worthwhile, but she didn’t want to spend a week away from Jack. Not to mention the toll it would take on her bank account. After being blacklisted in the ad industry, she had opened her own agency and didn’t have much money to spare.
Allie made a few phone calls, ending with a call to Jack at his office at Empire Advertising, his grandfather’s successful firm.
“Hey,” she said when he answered.
“Miss me already?” His tone was teasing. “I just dropped you off.” They had settled into a routine where they stayed in her Providence, Rhode Island, high-rise apartment during the week and spent the weekends at Jack’s house in Newport. A bonus was having her newly discovered twin sister, Charlotte, right across the street from him.
She explained to Jack about the conference. “So I’ve paid for the airfare, which is nonrefundable, and the conference people told me I couldn’t get a refund at this late date. I can still cancel the hotel room because I really don’t want to go.”
“It would be a great trip to make together,” he said. “I was dealing with Granddad’s health when I heard about the conference and decided I shouldn’t be that far away from him.” His maternal grandfather, now living comfortably in an assisted-living facility in Providence, had raised Jack. His grandfather had banished Jack’s father when it was revealed that his father’s latest affair with one of his college students had precipitated the argument between Jack’s parents—an argument that led to his mother’s fatal car accident.
“How weird would it have been if we’d met at this conference instead of the wedding?” She laughed.
“We would have lost all this time together,” he reminded her. “You know, if you don’t feel you can afford it, I can help you out.”
“It’s partially the money, since I haven’t been able to snag a big-name client like John Wentworth or Raymond Foster to keep my company afloat. But truthfully, I’d miss Harvey.” She was teasing about their rescue dog, but she didn’t want to get too mushy by telling Jack she’d miss him terribly. Their relationship still felt too new to jump ahead too quickly.
“You’d miss Harvey?” The humor in his voice came through clearly.
“Sure. I’ve gotten quite attached to him.”
“Glad to hear it.” He chuckled. “Hey, what about Charlotte?”
“What about her?”
“You were looking for something to get her out of this funk. What about giving her the trip? She wouldn’t have to attend the conference, but it’s a week’s vacation on an island.”
“What about the plane ticket? I can’t put it in her name.”
He was quiet for a few seconds. “See if you can get a credit. I’ll pay for a new flight once Charlotte agrees to go.”
The idea was a good one. They’d both been troubled about Charlotte’s well-being since her mother’s letter. Charlotte was consumed with grief and anger; her therapist had been unable to help her cope. Charlotte was determined to keep searching for their biological relatives and had emailed and left messages over social media for anyone who might know or be related to their mother, Barbara Sherwood. Allie thought her motivation was because Charlotte was still angry her adoptive mother had known about Allie and never told Charlotte.
“I’ll also chip in for the hotel room,” he added. “Tell Charlotte she can relax and Allie Miller will just not show up for the conference.”
“That’s perfect!” She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it herself. Her sister had been so good to her since they’d met, and this trip would be a nice way to repay her. “This is really a great idea, Jack. She’s been spending a lot of time searching for our other biological relatives, and I’m pretty sure she hasn’t been working much. I’m worried. Her next art show is in a few weeks and I don’t see how she’ll be ready.”
“Then make sure she accepts the trip.”
“Trust me, I’ll make sure she does.”
“You are pretty persuasive,” he teased and then changed the subject. “Why don’t we plan a road trip to Vermont this weekend? The leaves are probably almost gone, but we could find a bed-and-breakfast and do some wine tasting and eat apple everything.”
She groaned. “That sounds wonderful. You’re pretty persuasive yourself. So much better than a conference by myself. I’ll call Charlotte now.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE SWITCHED THE phone to her other ear as she walked barefoot across her living room, through the dining room and into the kitchen. “A vacation? Now? I don’t know, Allie. I’m not really in the mood for traveling.”
“Come on,” Allie persisted. “You’ll have a great time. When was the last time you took a vacation?”
“It’s been a while,” she admitted reluctantly. Probably some time before Charlotte’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer a year and a half ago. Charlotte didn’t count the emotional weekend at the beach she’d spent with her mother after the doctors had confirmed her mom had only a few months left to live. Plenty of time for her mother to have shared what she knew about Charlotte’s twin sister.
“All the more reason you should go.”
Charlotte had never vacationed alone. What would she do? She didn’t even go to movies by herself or dine in a restaurant at a table for one. That’s what Netflix and drive-throughs were for. “Thanks anyway. I appreciate the thought.”
“Come on, Charlotte, you know you want to go. You need this. Take the time to relax and get a fresh perspective.”
Could she resist such a fabulous opportunity? “I have so much to do,” Charlotte lamented. “I’m showing again next month, and I still have three more pieces I want to add to my inventory. I haven’t even started them.”
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you had beautiful sunset vistas, as well as birds and trees and a bunch of other stuff for inspiration?”
Charlotte realized she was smiling at the thought, and her adrenaline kicked in. She was known for her pastels, but she’d been in a creative downswing from the moment of her mother’s diagnosis, stuck on charcoal as her preferred medium. The stark black with shades of gray on a white background echoed her current view of the world. Things had gotten worse after reading her mother’s letter.
“Is your computer nearby?” Allie asked. “I just sent you some pics of the private island, Sapodilla Cay, off the Florida coast.”
Charlotte reluctantly pulled up the pictures on her laptop. Unexpectedly, the myriad of colors in the tropical island sunset called to her. “I have been hoping to get back into pastels and—”
“You can have a working vacation.” Allie took Charlotte’s comment as agreement. “Pack your art supplies and your bathing suit. I’ll email you the ticket so you can check in. The flight leaves at noon tomorrow.”
Charlotte laughed. The situation was absurd. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You deserve it. You’ve been there for me. I couldn’t have gotten that Fairleigh account without your help, not to mention meeting Jack. Please let me do this for you. Let us—Jack and me—do this for you.”
Charlotte hesitated, but the pull of the ocean views nagged her. “This is really sweet of you, Allie. You’re such a thoughtful sister. I guess—”
“I told Jack I could convince you.” Allie’s voice came through loud and clear before Charlotte could actually agree. “Go do whatever you need to do to get ready.”
“Thank you, Allie.”
“You’re very welcome. That’s what sisters are for.”
The thought saddened her again—exactly the opposite of Allie’s intent. But Charlotte couldn’t help thinking how many years they’d missed as sisters, thanks to her mother.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Charlotte wanted to crawl back into bed. She’d barely slept after going over all the details of this crazy, unexpected vacation. Partly because she was determined to enjoy the experience and leave her grief and anger behind, but mainly because she was sure she should skip the trip and stay home.
She had stayed up way too late figuring out what to pack and what to wear on the plane. October in Rhode Island made a coat a necessity, but the temps in Fort Lauderdale and on the island would be too warm for more than a light jacket. Would the evenings on the island be cool this time of year because of the ocean breeze? She’d checked the weather app on her phone, but knew temperature wouldn’t tell the complete story that close to the ocean. She settled for layers since she always froze on airplanes when they reached cruising altitude.
Not that she’d done a whole lot of flying. Occasionally, she’d needed to fly to get to galleries where her art was being shown. Beyond that, she’d traveled by car and twice by train.
Once she had sorted out her wardrobe and realized how late it was, she had been terrified she’d sleep through her alarm clock. Not that she usually did, but because of that, she had woken every hour and then had finally gotten up twenty minutes before her alarm had gone off.
Charlotte was ready early, pacing in front of the window while she waited for the driver to arrive at her small, historic home. Less than a year ago, she’d used some of her considerable inheritance from her mother to buy the home she’d fallen in love with the moment she’d seen it. Having Jack as her friend and neighbor across the street was an additional perk.
Allie had offered to drive Charlotte to the airport, but she’d declined. Allie and Jack had done enough by sending her on this trip. There was no need for either of them to drive forty-five minutes from Providence to Newport on a workday, and then drive Charlotte another forty-five minutes back to the Providence airport.
Allie had forwarded the e-ticket to Charlotte, as well as a detailed itinerary for the trip. She’d need to figure out what it had cost them so she could repay them the entire amount. Allie had offered the trip as a gift, but Charlotte planned to foot the bill herself. Allie wasn’t financially stable yet, so Charlotte didn’t want her sister, or Jack, to spend money on her. Between her inheritance from her mother and her successful art career, Charlotte was financially comfortable.
She checked her watch. The car was now ten minutes late. The longer she had to wait for her driver, the more she had second thoughts about the trip. It wasn’t too late to back out.
But if she backed out, she’d have to explain to Allie and Jack why. She racked her brain but couldn’t come up with a viable reason. Telling them she didn’t feel like it wasn’t going to work.
She reviewed her mental list for about the tenth time. Tickets, casual summer clothes that had been packed away for the winter, sunglasses, phone and charger, sunscreen, as well as her e-reader with several novels she hadn’t had time to read. Her carry-on was filled with her art supplies to prevent loss or damage in transit. She was also careful to make sure there was nothing in her carry-on that might be confiscated by airport security.
She was about to call the car company to make sure she hadn’t given them the wrong time when a black town car pulled up to the curb. Charlotte stepped out the front door onto the porch to wave to the driver. Her suitcase and carry-on were already on the porch and she started down the steps with them to the sidewalk.
“Morning, Miss Harrington. I’ll take those.” The driver came around the car. His hat shadowed his face as he took her bags.
“Good morning. I just need to lock my door.” She smiled, slung her purse over her shoulder and locked the front door behind her.
This was going to happen. She nearly missed a step in her excitement, and she grabbed on to the wooden railing to steady herself.
Before she knew it, she was seated in a window seat on the airplane, on her way to Fort Lauderdale where she’d take a ferry to Sapodilla Cay.
For someone pretty cautious, she discovered that since there was no turning back, she was actually excited about this new adventure.
* * *
SAM BRITON STOOD on the private island’s dock next to the gleaming fifty-six-foot yacht named For My Grandkids. The Blaise Enterprises logo was prominently displayed just below it on the stern.
“You sure you’re good until Ben gets back?” John Blaise, Sam’s former father-in-law slash longtime boss, yelled from the top deck of the yacht. “I can stay if you need me.”
“I think we can manage,” Sam replied. “This conference coming in isn’t very large, about a hundred people. Between Ben’s new assistant, Katie, and me, we should be able to handle them.”
Sam’s day had begun with the resignation of his conference manager due to his mother’s illness in Liverpool, England. That was followed by a water leak in room 315 that had seeped into rooms 215 and 115. On top of that, one of the two elevators was down; a part was expected to be shipped overnight. Although, on this island, overnight shipping was hit or miss.
“I like what you told Ben about taking a leave of absence and moving his parents here. I knew you would handle the manager position like a pro.” John grinned, the deep lines in his tanned face defined, and gestured up the boardwalk. “Here come the kids.” Sam’s children, Emma and Oliver, walked side by side, rolling their suitcases and wearing backpacks. John slipped around the corner to hide from them.
As soon as they got close enough, Sam wagged a finger at them while working desperately to hide his grin. “I expect you both to behave and don’t take advantage of your grandfather.”
“Oh, Daddy.” At twelve going on twenty, Emma had recently decided she’d outgrown her father’s sense of humor.
He slumped his shoulders dramatically and tugged on her funky striped hat. “Oh, Emma.”
She huffed as she adjusted her hat.
“Papa promised we could go bowling when we get to port.” Nine-year-old Oliver could barely contain his excitement. “He said there’s a new place in town since the last time we stayed with him. They have lanes with bumpers, too, so I don’t keep throwing glutter balls.”
“Gutter balls,” Sam corrected. “Just don’t bug Papa about going. If Papa says he’s too tired or wants to do something else, then no fussing. Got it?”
Both kids nodded in agreement. He had no doubt they’d have a great time. John had been widowed for almost ten years and he needed time with his grandchildren as much as they needed time with him. If not for John’s help and support, Sam never could have concentrated on being a single dad while rising to the level of resort manager.
Of course, it helped that John owned the Grand Peacock chain of resorts, as well as Sapodilla Cay, but Sam had pushed himself harder than he’d thought possible to qualify for the position. He never wanted anyone to say he didn’t deserve it.
John popped up from his hiding place on the boat and joined them on the dock.
“Papa!” Both kids ran into his waiting arms, Emma obviously forgetting she thought she was too old to be picked up by her grandfather.
The advantage of being a grandparent compared to a mere dad.
Sam grinned and spoke to John. “Thanks so much for taking them. Monica will be back very late Monday night, so either Monday evening or Tuesday morning would work for you to bring them back.” The resort, plus a few touristy shops and sparse housing, took up most of the island, so there was no school for his kids to attend. Finding Monica to tutor Emma and Oliver, as well as a few offspring of resort employees, had been sheer luck.
“I’m glad she’s working out.” John pushed his nearly white hair back from his forehead where the wind had blown it.
“She’s been a lifesaver. She doesn’t even mind hanging around in our suite until late at night when I have to be somewhere.”
“I hope she’s having a good time with her parents.” John rubbed his unshaven cheek. “You said it’s their thirtieth wedding anniversary?”
“Yeah. She asked for the long weekend off months ago. What were the odds that Ben’s parents would need him at the same time?”
“The headaches of running a resort.” John waved to the kids, who’d drifted to the far end of the dock. They were pointing to something in the clear water, probably some sort of sea creature.
When they were within earshot he said, “How about handing me those suitcases, Oliver.” John stowed their identical blue and pink suitcases as his grandson passed them onto the yacht.
Many years ago, John and his late wife, Rita, purchased the easy-to-maneuver boat, not wanting to give up their ability to travel by sea as they aged. They never thought death would separate them long before they expected.
Barely a few minutes later, Sam hugged his kids until they squealed, and then waved goodbye from the dock. Heading back to the resort along the boardwalk that spanned the sandy white beach, his heart constricted. He missed them and their lovable quirks already.
He checked his watch as he entered the open-air lobby. Their guests should begin arriving in less than two hours. Enough time for a final review of the week’s activities with Katie and a much-needed hit of caffeine.
* * *
“GOOD AFTERNOON, FOLKS. This is Captain Jonas here.” Charlotte opened her eyes and strained to hear the pilot as the entire plane quieted to listen. They’d pulled away from the gate ten minutes ago and then stopped with no explanation before now. From her window seat, she didn’t see any other planes taking off, either. Maybe her flight would be canceled and she could go home. Her heart beat faster until the captain continued speaking.
“There’s a storm hanging out just west of the airport, and no one’s taking off. As soon as we get clearance, I’ll be back to let you know. Until then, sit back and relax.”
“Easy for you to say,” Charlotte mumbled. The noise level rose as passengers complained. She reached under the seat in front of her to pull out her itinerary from her purse. Her flight was supposed to arrive in Fort Lauderdale at three, which gave her two hours before the ferry to Sapodilla Cay left at five. Taking into consideration that she needed to go to baggage claim and then take a taxi for the short drive to Port Everglades, this plane better take off quickly. She’d never been on a trip like this before and had no idea if there would be a security checkpoint that might be backed up.
The older woman sitting in the middle seat next to Charlotte tsked as she continued to crochet something pale pink and tiny. She glanced at Charlotte. “Never fails. I’m always on the flight that’s delayed.” The woman’s bright green eyes were prominant in an oval face lined with faint wrinkles. She peered at Charlotte, waiting for a response.
“You fly often?” she asked politely. She wasn’t in the habit of conversing with strangers, but she reminded herself of her vow to have fun and leave her worries behind.
“Oh yes. Several times a year.” The woman continued crocheting as she spoke, her hands moving rhythmically. “My grandkids live in Rhode Island. I’ve been living in south Florida for about ten years.” She glanced at her hands, then back at Charlotte.
Charlotte checked the sky through her small window. “Looks like it’s clearing over that way.”
When the woman didn’t comment, Charlotte stuffed her itinerary back into her purse, shoved it under the seat in front of her and leaned her head back. Her eyes drifted shut. She hoped her seat neighbor would take the hint.
“Allie?” A woman’s loud voice came from the aisle nearby.
Charlotte didn’t open her eyes, instead regulated her breathing and tried to block out the commotion around her.
“Allie!” The woman was insistent.
The older woman nudged Charlotte with her elbow and said in a whisper, “I think that woman is speaking to you, dear.”
Charlotte’s eyes popped open to see a plump, fifty-something woman with an unruly mop of dark, curly hair and black-rimmed glasses.
“I didn’t know you were on this flight.” The woman’s speech was quick, her silver hoop earrings bouncing randomly. “I’m surprised you’re coming to the conference after the way things turned out at DP. You know, when you left.” She used finger quotes for “left” and never seemed to stop talking long enough to inhale.
“You have me confused with my twin sister, Allie,” Charlotte told her. “My name is Charlotte.”
The woman pointed a finger at her and grinned wickedly. “That’s a good one, Allie. I’m not sure how many people will believe you suddenly have a twin sister, but it’s a nice try. I have to warn you, there are a lot of people at DP who think you knew about Jimmy’s extortion plan. I’m really surprised you’re going to the conference.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to explain about finding Allie fairly recently, but she couldn’t get a word in.
“Too bad we’re not sitting next to each other.” The woman turned her head quickly to look at the surrounding passengers and lowered her voice. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about who’s going to be at the conference. Rumor has it he’s looking to change advertising firms.” She put her finger to her lips. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” The woman pointed to the front of the plane. “I’m up there on the aisle. I hate sitting anywhere else.” She leaned in the row, nearly resting her ample breasts on the man in the aisle seat, to whisper, “You know how my bladder is, and I hate asking people to move. Oh, speaking of that, I need to use the facilities before they make us buckle up. So good to see you. I want to hear all about what you’ve been doing since you left DP. Check you later.” She waved and moved down the aisle before Charlotte could say another word.
The woman obviously knew Allie from her previous job. Charlotte hadn’t considered that people attending the advertising conference might mistake her for Allie. She should have, though, since they were identical twins. From their dark, chin-length hair to their matching feet with high insteps.
“I have to ask,” the older woman next to her said. “Is your name Charlotte or Allie?”
“It’s Charlotte. She didn’t give me a chance to explain. My twin sister backed out of the conference and gave me the hotel room and travel arrangements to use as a vacation.”
The woman nodded. “Sounds like you should do some investigating into this ‘special guest’ that’s coming. I’m guessing your sister might be sorry she missed him.”
The seat belt reminder dinged, and the passengers hurried to their seats to buckle up. Charlotte considered her seatmate’s suggestion as the plane’s engines revved.
“This is your captain again. Looks like things are moving. We’re number eight for takeoff. Shouldn’t be long now.”
That seemed like a long way back in line, but Charlotte wasn’t an expert.
Her mind wandered to what the talkative woman had said about someone important attending the conference. She should definitely call Allie as soon as she was able.
* * *
CHARLOTTE’S ROOM WAS beyond beautiful, as well as being the largest hotel room she’d ever stayed in. The furnishings were luxurious, while the room was light and airy. She crossed the hardwood floor to peer out at the ocean, drawn by the gentle breeze coming from the wall of open floor-to-ceiling French doors. The water was calm, and much to her amazement, she discovered how far out to sea she could still discern the white sandy bottom far from shore.
The first thing she did was call Allie. Her sister had already left her office for the day and her cell phone went right to voice mail. Charlotte left messages both places, but she would have to try again later.
She was about to unpack when she spotted a flyer on the bed. It was an invitation to the welcome reception the desk clerk had mentioned when she’d checked in. He’d said it was for all guests, not just conference attendees.
She checked the clock. The reception had already begun. As much as she wanted to hibernate in her room, she remembered one of the reasons she was here—to push herself beyond her comfort zone. “It sounds like fun.” She spoke aloud as if trying to convince herself.
Charlotte hurried to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and her hair, touched up her makeup and applied lip gloss. She pulled a few things from her luggage, disappointed she hadn’t yet unpacked. Didn’t matter, this was vacation. A little food and a drink actually sounded like heaven.
She donned a long, flowing skirt and a matching floral peasant top. She retrieved her flat tan sandals from the outside pocket of her suitcase and struggled to buckle them in her haste.
She locked her laptop and purse in the room’s safe. There was no need to carry a purse when she had a pocket in her skirt to keep her room key.
Before going out the door, she slipped on her little white shrug with three-quarter sleeves. Even on the hottest summer days, most Newport evenings were cool enough to demand a light sweater or jacket, and this island in October was probably similar in climate.
Charlotte took the beautiful staircase rather than wait for the elevator. She’d noticed on her way up to her room that one elevator was out of service and she’d already taken several minutes getting herself presentable to attend the reception.
Partially hidden behind a palm tree in the lobby, Charlotte took in the gathering. The sight of food and a bar made her stomach growl. She thought she was being inconspicuous when she crossed the lobby to join the party.
“Hey, Allie!” one of the women in the crowd called out.
Just as she’d suspected, other people here knew Allie. Charlotte picked up a plate and reached for the vegetable tongs.
“Allie,” said a man directly behind her. “We were all wondering if you’d be here.”
Charlotte nearly dropped the tongs. She peered over her shoulder at the tall man with light brown hair, neatly trimmed facial hair and hazel eyes, who was probably in his mid-to late-twenties. She didn’t know him, didn’t know what to say. “I’m not—”
“I haven’t seen you since you left DP.” He lowered his voice. “You must be excited about our special guest.”
Did all these DP people talk constantly, not allowing anyone to say a word?
Charlotte merely nodded while she put a few carrots and broccoli florets on her plate and added a small puddle of white dipping sauce. What would it hurt if a few people thought she was Allie? Probably easier than explaining constantly. Every time she told someone about finding her sister, it reopened wounds that were still raw after reading her mother’s letter.
Everyone seemed to be ecstatic about someone special attending the conference. The more she heard, the more she was concerned that Allie wasn’t here.
Not wanting to seem rude, Charlotte turned to face the man whose name she didn’t know. “Yes, I’m very excited about our special—”
“Hi, Allie. Hi, Jared.” A woman joined them before Charlotte could finish her sentence. Great. Another person who thought she was her sister. The petite woman with whitish-blond hair was about the same age as the man Charlotte now knew was named Jared. The woman held an almost empty glass of white wine in her hand.
“Hey, Veronica,” Jared greeted her.
“Hi.” Charlotte pretended to survey the room, figuring she’d just go along with everyone thinking she was Allie for the night. During the day, they’d be at their conference and she’d be luxuriating in the sun on the beach. She’d probably never run into them again. “This is quite a crowd.”
Veronica nodded as she downed the last of her wine and set the glass on a tray with other used dishes.
Charlotte had nothing to talk about with these two. She knew nothing about them and very little about advertising. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly and dunked her broccoli into the dip on her plate before taking a bite.
“I’m going to take advantage of the open bar,” Jared said. “Can I get either of you ladies anything?”
That sounded like an excellent idea, even if it meant she wasn’t ditching either of them. Better to talk to people who thought she was her sister than stand around awkwardly by herself. “I’ll come with you and see what they have.” Charlotte checked out what others were drinking. A few had little umbrellas in what looked like fruity drinks.
She pointed to someone walking past the bar and told the bartender, “I’ll have one of those.”
“Ooh, me, too!” Veronica had followed them and now she clapped her hands like a five-year-old who’d been promised ice cream. She nudged Charlotte with an elbow. “By the way, love your hair like this. It must be so much easier than curling it.”
“Um, thanks.” She touched her hair. She and Allie had their dark brown hair styled in almost identical chin-length bobs when they’d met. Allie liked hers curled most of the time, but Charlotte couldn’t be bothered since she worked from home and rarely had a need to get dressed up.
There was a lapse in the conversation. A perfect time for Charlotte to tell Jared and Veronica who she was.
Before she could open her mouth, their attention was drawn to a man ringing a brass bell.
* * *
SAM STOOD NEAR the food table and rang the bell to get everyone’s attention. When they quieted and turned in his direction, he put his glass in the air and looked at the expectant faces in the crowd. “I’m the resort manager, Sam Briton, and I’d like to welcome you all to the Grand Peacock Resort on Sapodilla Cay. I hope you’re all having a good time?” The group cheered, and he took a sip of his club soda.
He was about to begin his usual speech about the resort when the people parted. There was a face he recognized. Not a face he ever expected to see. Not one he ever wanted to see again.
Allie Miller.
Or, as he referred to the lying tramp from his past who’d attached herself to a boyfriend with no morals, Alley Cat.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_25ed1a06-1da2-575c-9ad6-a1d8d9bea416)
THE MAN SPEAKING to the group stopped. He glared at Charlotte.
Her hand flew to cover her unexpected gasp, drawing more attention to herself. She had never seen this guy before, so why the loathing in his eyes?
Wow. He disliked her. Intensely.
She didn’t know what to do, how to behave. People didn’t usually react negatively to her, especially at first glance. He obviously thought he knew her.
Or her sister.
Her stomach flip-flopped.
The man cleared his throat. His contempt drifted away from her as he bared straight white teeth in a false smile to continue speaking.
Learning his name was Sam Briton didn’t provide any answers. Allie hadn’t mentioned him and he was the resort manager, not an advertising conference attendee. Charlotte watched him carefully, making sure she’d never met him, not even briefly. His deep-set, intense blue eyes would be striking, if not for his blatant animosity. He was average in height, with a strong jaw and short, dark hair. He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and wore his clothes well— khakis and a navy button-down shirt with the resort logo. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the forearms of a person who stayed fit. He was definitely a handsome man she was sure she’d not soon forget.
“How do you know him?” Veronica whispered frantically as she tugged at Charlotte’s elbow. “He is one very hot guy. Too bad he so obviously dislikes you.”
Charlotte shrugged and sipped her drink. She’d forgotten Veronica stood next to her. In fact, the woman hadn’t left her side since they’d first spoken. How should she answer Veronica’s question? Charlotte didn’t know this Sam Briton, but obviously Allie did. How did they know each other, and what had Allie done to earn his aversion?
Charlotte knew Allie had a troubled past, but she’d worked hard to move on. Especially since she and Jack had gotten together.
“I hope your stay here will be very rewarding, as well as relaxing,” Sam was saying. “If you have any problems or questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me or one of the staff. Breakfast is served from seven to nine. Enjoy your evening!” He waved, leaving everyone to talk among themselves.
Whew! This Sam person was leaving. No more caustic stares. She’d be sure to steer clear of him this week.
When he headed straight for her, she nearly inhaled a sip of her drink. She began coughing and someone took her drink from her hand. Instead of making herself invisible, she’d captured everyone’s attention.
“Come with me.” Sam took her by the elbow and roughly guided her away from the group. His grip tightened the farther away they got from the reception.
Unable to voice her opinion of his actions because she was still coughing, she finally jerked her elbow from his grasp. “Ouch!”
“Sorry.” His apology didn’t sound genuine.
He moved his hand to her lower back and his touch was anything but gentle.
They were alone in the middle of the hallway, past the sign that read Employees Only. She stopped and faced him. “Where are you taking me?” She cleared her throat. “I’m fine now. I just need some water.”
He didn’t speak, merely spun her around and continued guiding her to an office. The sign next to the door proclaimed Sam Briton, Resort Manager.
Resort Dictator would be a more suitable title.
She should run away, yell for help, but she had to know why he disliked Allie so much. Or did he actually know Charlotte and she didn’t remember him?
“Sit.” He pointed to the seat closest to the wall and in front of his desk. He closed his office door with more force than necessary. Instead of taking the desk chair, he chose the matching chair next to Charlotte’s. He pulled it several feet away from her and turned it so he could face her.
Charlotte was pretty sure that if steam could truly come out of one’s ears, then this would be the time she’d witness it.
For what seemed like several minutes, he didn’t speak, merely stared at her with narrowed eyes. He leaned forward, hands fisted on his thighs.
“Start talking.” When he finally spoke, his words confused Charlotte.
She shifted in her seat. “What would you like me to say?”
He laughed, a choking sound that lacked humor. He stood quickly and pounded a fist on his desk, making everything on it vibrate. Then he leaned in so close to Charlotte that she could differentiate the dark blue rings surrounding his lighter blue irises.
“We had an agreement.” He spoke slowly through gritted teeth, but his self-control was back.
“An agreement?” Maybe she could get him to elaborate.
“Don’t be coy. We both know you’re too conniving to play the innocent.”
Conniving. No one had ever called Charlotte that. “Maybe you can be more specific.” She kept her tone even, hoping to cajole rather than anger him. For some reason, she refused to blurt out she wasn’t Allie—maybe because the details were really none of his business.
“Specific?” He straightened to his full height and paced in the small space. He stopped behind his desk. “You want specific? I’ll give you specific. We agreed we’d never lay eyes on each other again in this lifetime.” He flattened both hands on his desk when he leaned over it, his eyes venomous. “Is that specific enough for you?”
Tears built behind her eyes. She fought them with every bit of self-control she possessed. No one had ever been this angry at her before. Even if Sam thought she was Allie, at this particular moment, his rage was directed at Charlotte.
“That’s easy to do.” She stood, head held high, smoothed her skirt and turned to leave his office.
“Sit down!” This time he shouted. “I ought to call Security and have them detain you until I can figure out how to get you off this island.”
She grabbed at the arms of the chair to steady herself and did as she was told. This was not the vacation she’d expected. Her heart pounded in her chest as she came to a decision. Maybe when he heard the truth, he would calm down. “I’m not who you think I am.”
He snickered.
“Really, I’m not Allie Miller.”
“So I’m supposed to believe you’re not Alley Cat—excuse me, Allie Miller—even though you look and sound exactly like her and you’re at an advertising conference?”
This wasn’t going well. “She’s my twin sister.”
“Ha! That’s a good one. Not as good as the scheme you came up with back in Charleston, but certainly worth hearing about.” He sat in his desk chair, leaned back with fingers laced behind his head and spoke to the ceiling. “Go on. This should be interesting.”
Scheme? What kind of scheme? Nothing Allie had shared with her. Charlotte sat dumbfounded.
“I’m waiting.” Sam’s tone made it clear he would brook no more deceit.
Where to begin? “My name is Charlotte, and Allie Miller is my twin sister.”
“Charlotte? As in ‘rhymes with harlot?’” His words burned her like acid.
“You’re being unfair, as well as rude.” She spoke as firmly as she was able. “Please let me explain before you pass judgment.”
He went back to contemplating the ceiling. “Go on.”
“Allie and I are identical twins who were adopted by two different families as newborns. We met a few months ago.”
Sam guffawed.
“It’s true.” Charlotte cleared her throat, needing to sound truthful to both Sam and herself. “Our birth mother delivered us in a prison hospital and her greedy lawyer brokered separate private adoptions. Neither of us knew we had a sister, let alone a twin.” But her mother knew. A stab in her heart from another direction.
“Nice touch, mother gave birth behind bars.”
“It’s the truth.” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him all this, since he obviously didn’t want to believe her.
“Why are you here and not your other personality, I mean your ‘twin’?” His use of finger quotes was when her patience ended.
She stood, making herself as tall as possible, her neck straining at the effort. “That’s it. You have no right to keep me here. You don’t believe a word I’ve said, so I’m leaving.” She crossed the small office to the closed door.
Before she could grasp the handle, he dashed around the desk, knocking his chair back into the window ledge. He slapped his palm on his closed office door above her head.
She turned to confront him, not realizing how close he was. He hovered mere inches away. She placed her palm on his chest, planning to push him back.
Instead, she stopped when his warmth penetrated her hand, then spread up her arm and through the rest of her body. Confused, she gazed at him.
His pupils dilated. In that instant, crazy as it sounded, she knew his physical reaction mirrored hers.
Before she could protest, his mouth was on hers and his chest pressed her against the door. His kiss was angry. And erotic. Instead of fighting him, and without thinking, she slid her arms around his waist to the firm muscles of his back. She wanted him closer, as close as two people could get.
He moved his mouth to her neck, shoving her sweater from her shoulder to nibble on her bare skin. Then he hiked up her long skirt while his mouth traveled to nip sharply at her earlobe. He whispered, “Is this what you came here for, Alley Cat? To finish what you started in Charleston?”
* * *
THE WOMAN CALLING herself Charlotte struggled to push him away. Sam backed off at once. Reason had returned. What had gotten into him? His physical pull to her was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. But he’d never forced himself on a woman, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He walked to the window and leaned on the sill with both hands. The sun was a mere sliver from being completely set over the calm ocean.
His office door opened and closed. He didn’t need to turn around to know the woman was gone.
What was wrong with him? One minute he was angry, the next he was turned on. He’d never had that reaction to her back in South Carolina, although she’d tried her best to seduce him. That had been part of her plan. Keep him close so he wouldn’t figure out what she and her boyfriend were up to.
What kind of scam was she running now? Twin sister? He laughed. That wasn’t very inventive.
Why had she risked coming here? She had to know he’d be here. He’d been offered the promotion to manager at the Grand Peacock right before they’d agreed to steer clear of each other.
That had been what, four years ago? As assistant manager of the resort’s Charleston property, he’d been tasked to work with Allie. Back then, she worked for a small cosmetics firm out of Wilmington, Delaware. She made regular visits to the resort’s boutique that carried the cosmetics.
She’d come on to him soon after they met, insinuating she could be quite discreet. He hadn’t been attracted to her, and besides, he never got involved with business associates or resort guests. His goal to rise to the top within Blaise Enterprises came second only to his children.
Allie had taken his rebuttal in stride, leaving him perplexed and with a slightly bruised ego. Not until he discovered her real scheme did he ever think of her as anything but an attractive hustler trying to claw her way into power.
He went to his computer to see what he could find out about Allie, using her current alias. Was she using the same last name? She’d conveniently given him only a first name. He didn’t find anything under Charlotte Miller that fit the woman he had just met.
There was a knock on his office door.
“Come in.” Had she come back?
His assistant, Gayle, opened the door and stuck her head in. “Mr. Briton?” Her unexpected appearance outside his office was never a good sign.
“What is it?” Adrenaline made his skin tingle. Now what?
She entered his office and ran her fingers through her wavy shoulder-length, strawberry-blond hair. She blew air through her lips. “I can’t believe this happened. There’s a couple in bungalow 6 who are claiming his phone was stolen from their room.”
“He’s sure he didn’t misplace it?”
“That’s what I asked. They’ve called it. The phone goes directly to voice mail as if it’s turned off.”
“Did you ask if he had any location software on it?”
“He said it’s a new phone and he hadn’t gotten around to activating it yet.” Gayle crossed her arms over her abdomen. “He wants to speak to the manager.”
Sam nodded. “Is he in his room?”
“I told him you’d come to his room as soon as possible. Bungalow 6,” she repeated. “Their names are Bob and Evelyn Snyder. They’ve stayed here several times before.”
Sam recognized their names.
“I’ve got this. Thanks.” Gayle left his office and Sam called his head of security. “Hey, George, how’s it going?”
“Just fine, Mr. Briton. What can I do for you?” George was a retired New York City detective who considered this job practically a year-round vacation.
“We’ve had a burglary.” Sam proceeded to fill George in on the situation. “So I’d like you to beef up patrols, especially around the bungalows, and monitor the video footage.”
He thought about Allie’s arrival bringing a whole host of problems. Broken elevator, water leak, now a burglary. How much more could happen in less than forty-eight hours?
He would definitely need to keep a constant eye on that woman.
* * *
CHARLOTTE DIDN’T WAIT for the elevator, instead chose the open staircase to return to her room. She didn’t want to run into anyone else who knew her sister. And she couldn’t get away fast enough from that awful Sam Briton.
Charlotte was beyond mortified by her reaction to that Neanderthal. How dare he treat her with such disrespect. And how dare she react to his kiss as if she’d been starved for him. She’d clung to his body, matching his ardor with her own. She put her cool hands to her face, which burned with embarrassment.
Her knees were about to buckle by the time she reached her room. She settled herself on one of the two Hemingway-style chairs and propped her feet on the matching ottoman. The breeze coming from the balcony through the open sliding doors fluttered the sheers.
The phone rang unexpectedly and Charlotte jumped. She picked up the extension on the table next to her. “Hello?” Her voice quavered and she cleared her throat.
“Hi, Allie, this is Veronica. I’m sorry to bother you, but are you okay? That manager guy seemed pretty angry.”
Charlotte tried to play it off. “I’m fine. It was just a little misunderstanding. In fact—”
“Misunderstanding?” Veronica wasn’t going to let it go.
“He thought I was someone from his past.” Charlotte wasn’t about to give her more than that.
“Oh. Okay. I’m glad you straightened him out then.”
If only.
When Charlotte didn’t comment, Veronica said, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”
Oh no, now what? “Ready?” Tomorrow couldn’t possibly be worse than today.
“For the conference. I picked up your name tag and welcome folder when I registered. I figured you’d like to see a schedule. Looks like Raymond Foster will be here Monday.”
“Raymond Foster?”
“You have heard the news that he’s looking for a new agency, right? Everyone’s been talking about it. He’s been with the same one since the eighties.”
“I have,” Charlotte answered. She decided to try again to correct Veronica’s misconception. “I need to tell you something. Allie Miller is my twin sister. My name is Charlotte Harrington.”
Veronica was silent for a few seconds and then she burst out laughing. “Good one, Allie. Although I don’t think you’ll get anyone to believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re known for making up things, especially to win accounts. No one is going to fall for your ‘twin’ story.”
“But it’s true.”
“If you say so.” Veronica didn’t sound convinced.
Charlotte dropped the subject. “Thank you for registering me.” Allie should be here. This account sounded like the one she needed to keep her fledgling business going.
“Not a problem,” Veronica said. “I’ll meet you at breakfast and give it to you.”
Instead of saying no, Charlotte answered, “Sounds good.” She hung up, then closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. She needed to try again to call her sister. She retrieved her cell phone and located Allie’s cell number.
Once again, the call went to voice mail.
“Allie, it’s Charlotte. I really need to talk to you. There’s a man coming to the conference, Raymond Foster, and rumor has it he’s looking for a new agency. You should be here.”
She disconnected and looked at her phone. How could she help her sister? For the next hour, she called Allie every fifteen minutes with no luck.
She changed for bed, not caring that she’d missed dinner. While brushing her teeth, she looked in the bathroom mirror and suddenly knew how she might be able to help.
Everyone she’d met, including Sam Briton, thought she was Allie.
So that’s who she was going to be. Honestly, it might be fun to be someone other than sad Charlotte for a change.
* * *
SAM EXITED THE main building and headed to bungalow 6. He made a mental note to check with Maintenance to see if the elevator part was on its way. As was his habit, he surveyed his surroundings as he walked down the stone path through the canopy of palms. He watched for landscaping that needed trimming back from the walkway or anything else that might need attention.
The Snyders were repeat customers now that they were both retired, and he’d do whatever was necessary to keep them happy. He had a difficult time believing the man’s phone was stolen. More than likely, he’d just misplaced it. The resort had rarely experienced a theft problem since he’d been here. He had dealt with illegal activity at the other Grand Peacock resorts he’d worked at, but seldom at this one.
He knocked on the Snyders’ door. Footsteps became increasingly louder until Bob Snyder opened the door.
“Come in, Sam.” Bob shook Sam’s hand and gestured to where his wife was seated on the striped sofa near the floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors. “You remember my wife, Evelyn.”
“Of course. How are you?”
“I’m doing well.” Evelyn and Bob were the classic couple who, over their long marriage, had come to look like each other. Short, round and gray, with bifocals and a passion for matching outfits. Today they wore red-and-yellow floral shirts with white cotton pants.
“Good to hear.” Sam took a seat on the chair across from the sofa where Bob sat next to his wife. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve had some trouble. Your phone is missing?”
“That’s right.” Bob rested one foot on his opposite knee.
“When did you notice it was gone?”
Bob looked at Evelyn. “About an hour ago?”
Evelyn nodded.
“Where did you see it last?” Sam still hoped the phone had been misplaced.
“I remember setting it down on the dresser when we got back from our walk. That was around three.”
“Did anyone come to the door, or did you leave the bungalow after that?”
“Only when the front desk called.”
“At least, we thought it was the front desk.” Evelyn’s voice trembled, and Bob patted her hand.
“What do you mean you thought it was the front desk?” Sam squirmed in his chair.
“We got a call asking us both to come to the front desk immediately. The man said there was a problem with some of the guests’ credit cards, and we needed to bring our credit card and ID for verification.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “I never heard anything about this.”
“Neither had your desk clerk. Tom, I think it was,” Bob said. “He had no idea what we were talking about.”
“Do you think that’s when your phone was stolen?”
Bob shrugged. “Must have been. I didn’t notice it was missing until quite a while later, but that’s the only time we were away from it.”
“Is there anything else missing?”
“Everything else of value was already locked in the room safe. The phone call made it seem urgent that we complied, so I didn’t think about my phone. I only had it out to be sure we didn’t get a text from our son. He and his wife are expecting their first child in a few weeks.”
Sam got up and walked around the room, checking the windows and French doors leading to the private hot tub. Whoever took the phone must be an employee—or working with one of them—to have gotten into the bungalow without breaking in. The front door automatically locked when it was shut, so a person would need a master key to get in. Sam couldn’t imagine any of his staff taking such a risk. Someone must be desperate to have pulled a stunt like this.
A few minutes later, after assuring the Snyders he would take care of the matter and reimburse them for a new phone, he also promised them two free nights at the resort.
Sam walked back to the lobby, trying to wrap his mind around the blatant theft that had taken place during his watch. He needed to get a written warning out to all guests and employees as soon as possible.
And definitely keep a close eye on Alley Cat. Her arrival on the island coincided with this theft, and he wouldn’t put it past her to be up to her old tricks.
* * *
CHARLOTTE ROSE EARLY the next morning, her head foggy and her eyes barely able to focus. Sleep had eluded her, so she had given up and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt to run on the beach to clear her head.
She’d tried several more times to call Allie last night, with no success. She left her sister messages each time. Charlotte finally left a message on Jack’s phone, too, which he also wasn’t answering.
Charlotte kept a steady pace down the beach. The weather was gorgeous, sunny and not too hot with a constant, gentle breeze. Rhode Island rarely provided mornings like this except for a few weeks in the summer. Definitely not in October.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one with the idea to run on the beach.
He was coming toward her, still a few hundred feet away. Although she’d met Sam barely twelve hours ago, she recognized him immediately from his body shape and the way his long legs ate up the ground.
Without warning, both her mind and body recalled the tension in his well-developed, muscular arms, and the expert way his mouth had reduced her to a quivering idiot.
Should she run past without acknowledging him? Look the other way? Nod at him? Wave?
Her heart rate increased. She sucked in more air and got a stitch in her side, but no way would she slow to a walk with him approaching her. She fought hard against the urge to stop and double over in pain.
He wouldn’t see her distress, no matter what.
His eyes were hidden by his sunglasses, making it impossible to tell if he looked at her as he ran past. His pace was smooth and effortless. He was shirtless and had the sculpted physique to do so.
No words were spoken by either of them.
As soon as he passed by, she stopped short and grabbed her side, sucking in oxygen in small bursts. What was wrong with her? She ran at the gym on a regular basis and rarely had endurance problems.
“Are you okay?” Sam had doubled back. His unexpected question startled her, doing nothing for her already spiked vitals.
“I’m fine.” Her choked words contradicted her statement.
“Straighten up.” He came around behind her and pressed a warm hand to her left side.
“Ouch.” She tried to move away from him, away from his touch. Especially the heat transferring from his body to hers.
“I’m trying to help.” He pressed again, massaging gently. “Right here?” At her nod, he added, “Take deep breaths from your belly. Slowly. That’s it. Now exhale and take another deep breath.”
Deep breathing was nearly impossible with him so close.
The pain slowly subsided and he moved away quickly. She was left standing there with nothing to say but, “Thank you.”
He nodded.
“This never happens to me at the gym.” Why was she explaining?
“It’s easy to overdo it here on the beach. The great scenery makes you forget how far you’ve gone.”
That was the first friendly thing he’d said to her in their short acquaintance. At least he had no clue that his sudden appearance was what made her pulse and breathing go haywire.
He glanced at his watch. “I need to get going. Are you okay now, Allie?”
She swallowed, straightening her back. “I’m fine.” Her words were sharper than she intended, but it bothered her that he still thought of her as Allie. Even if she had decided to be Allie for the week, he wasn’t aware of it.
He turned to take off again.
“You really still think I’m Allie?”
Her words stopped him and he faced her.
His brow furrowed, but she couldn’t gauge his eyes through his sunglasses. “You’ve given me no reason to believe you’re anyone other than Allie Miller. Can anyone verify your identity? Do you have some ID to prove it?”
“Of course I have ID, but it’s in my room. I’ll bring it to your office later, if I must.” Telling him to check the hotel computer would only confuse him more. Allie had added Charlotte’s name to the room without removing her own. For all he knew, she could be either one of them.
“Isn’t there anyone at the conference that will vouch for you? I could ask around.”
“No!” Charlotte shouted, reaching out to him. She stopped before she actually touched him. “No, please, don’t say anything.”
He cocked his head at her vehemence. “So if—and I say if—you aren’t really Allie, then why are you here and not her? Are you in advertising, too?”
She couldn’t answer. After deciding to pretend to be Allie, she should probably let Sam believe that’s who she was. Even if deep down she wanted him to know the real Charlotte.
He laughed, the same humorless laugh from last night. “You’re losing your touch, Allie. You used to be a much better liar.” He took a step in the direction of the resort.
She grabbed his arm to stop him, releasing him a second later. “Please...promise you won’t mention this to anyone. Everyone believes I’m Allie and I’ve decided I’d rather keep it that way.”
He didn’t answer at first. What she wouldn’t give to see those eyes of his behind the dark lenses. “Somehow I’m not surprised you’re still scheming. We’ll see what happens.”
“What does that mean? You already think I’m Allie. I’m simply asking you to keep thinking that.”
“You need to prove yourself to me before I can make any promises.” He checked his watch again. “Now I really do need to go.”
He ran off before she could organize her thoughts and ask how he expected her to prove herself to him.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_47e92a67-42fc-51ed-a7c5-993a87fa3f69)
SAM QUICKLY DRIED off after his shower. Running into Allie this morning had destroyed his concentration. What was it about her that had him physically reacting like a horny teenager? He never should have touched her. Massaging her side stitch away had been excruciating. He’d never been the least turned on by her when they’d met several years ago. What had changed?
Could she actually be Allie’s long-lost identical twin the way she claimed?
He laughed. That was preposterous.
Then he shook his head. If she were Allie’s twin, she had identical genes and was bound to be as untrustworthy. No matter what, she was bad news.
By the time he made it to the lobby, conference attendees were everywhere. Breakfast was ending and workshops would begin soon. His gaze stopped at Allie, her still-damp hair falling in waves to just below her chin. His mind automatically wandered to what she might have looked like in the shower, his body craving her wet, soapy curves.
He shook his head. This madness needed to stop.
Then he saw her name tag. He could barely make it out from where he stood, but it was definitely Allie Miller. If she were truly her twin, then why wasn’t she using her real name? Charlotte something. Wasn’t that the name she’d given him?
Sam checked his watch. He filled a cup with coffee from the buffet and followed his assistant conference manager down the hall toward his office.
“Everything going okay?” Sam asked Katie, who remained in his doorway after he entered his office.
Her head bobbed excitedly, making her light blond ponytail swing. “So far, so good.” Her excitement was contagious.
“Let me know if you need help with anything and I’ll get you some.” Sam walked around to the other side of his desk. With Ben in England taking care of his parents, Sam would need to make sure Katie could handle things by herself. Ben had complete confidence in her, but she was fresh out of college and had worked at the Grand Peacock less than a year. Sam reached for the messages on his desk and sipped his coffee.
“I might need an extra person directing people for meals,” she told him. “I already recruited Tom to help me decorate for Sunday night’s gathering. They’d like karaoke set up, too.”
“Sounds good.” The less he was required to be near Allie, the better. He was also pretty sure their desk clerk, Tom, had a major crush on Katie. So he’d do whatever she needed.
“I better make certain everyone gets to where they’re supposed to,” Katie said.
“Good luck!”
Her chuckle came from down the hall.
He turned his attention to the message his chief repairman had left on his desk. Sam was pleased to see the elevator part should be installed by late that afternoon.
Next, he checked his email. George, his head of security, needed to talk to him. Sam called him immediately, hoping there had been no further burglaries.
“Hey, George, Sam Briton. Give me some good news.”
“I wish I could, sir. I’m afraid there’s a problem with the video footage from yesterday’s burglary.”
“A problem?” Having cameras along the outdoor paths leading to the bungalows was always a challenge, thanks to the unpredictability of nature, which was why they checked the cameras daily. They were mostly there for the safety of the guests in case someone got hurt. Criminal activity was seldom a problem, so the cameras weren’t monitored 24/7.
“There are four minutes and nineteen seconds of palm fronds waving in the wind,” George reported. “Someone moved the cameras.”
“Moved them? Can you tell who did it and how?” No way could someone pull something like that off and not get caught. They’d have to get up in the palm trees to get access, which would probably require a ladder.
“Looks like whoever did it knew exactly where the cameras were located. And they avoided the path. The footage shows what I assume is the couple staying at bungalow 6 walking toward the main resort. Shortly after that is when the camera is tilted and the trees are all that can be seen.”
“The Snyders,” Sam clarified. “Retired couple, matching outfits.”
“That’s them. After the four-plus minutes, the camera is aimed back where it’s supposed to be.”
“So it was deliberate,” Sam concluded. “No chance a bird or animal bumped it.”
“Correct. I’m headed out there now to see if I can find footprints off the path, evidence of a ladder or any other clues.”
“Good,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE SAT AT a small table in the lobby, sipping a cup of coffee that was upsetting her already roiling stomach. Could she pull off this act? Make everyone believe she was Allie? She told herself it would be easy because no one believed she was Allie’s twin, no matter how many times she repeated it.
Her sister still hadn’t returned her calls and neither had Jack. Charlotte had awoken in the middle of the night and remembered that Allie and Jack had planned a trip this weekend. A New England trip, Vermont, she thought they’d said.
Charlotte could have emailed them, but figured if they weren’t answering their phones, then they weren’t checking email, either. She also surmised they might be in an area with poor cell coverage because Allie was always good about calling Charlotte back. And hearing that Raymond Foster was coming would surely pique her interest. According to what Charlotte read on the internet last night, he owned a conglomerate of most of the food brands in her fridge and pantry.
Veronica and Jared were seated across from Charlotte. From their constant chatter, they were either super relaxed or super nervous. She couldn’t tell which.
“Don’t you just adore this place?” Veronica was saying. “I’d love to bottle that salty ocean breeze and take it home with me.”
Home. That’s where Charlotte should be. Not conducting a ruse that could go wrong at any moment. Her stomach flipped again. What if she ruined things for Allie instead of helped her?
Jared laughed at Veronica’s suggestion. “That would just make me miss this place more.”
They continued their discussion on how to take the island home with them until the young woman in charge—Katie—informed them breakfast was over and workshops would begin in a few minutes. She gave directions to where things were located, reminding them that they’d received a resort map in their registration materials.
Charlotte felt confident about knowing the names of a few people. That was a decent start in pretending to be Allie. Her memory for names was pretty good, thanks to her inner artist that kept accurate pictures of people stored in her brain. Just never ask her what she ate for breakfast yesterday.
She’d checked the schedule for the workshops. Raymond Foster would be doing a two-hour presentation Monday morning with regards to what a client wanted and how to win big accounts. Charlotte thought she should attend that one so she had an idea of what to tell Allie if her sister wanted to pitch to him.
That gave her two days to get Allie to return her call.
* * *
SAM LEANED BACK in his desk chair and studied the week’s schedule Katie had provided. Nothing out of the ordinary, but he could see a few holes where he might be needed with Ben gone.
His phone rang.
“Sam Briton,” he answered after the first ring.
“Hey, Sam,” his father-in-law greeted him. “Just checking in to let you know the kids and I arrived safely in Fort Lauderdale.”
“Good to know,” Sam said. “Are my munchkins behaving?”
“Of course they are,” John answered with a chuckle. “How’s it going there? Are you managing okay without Ben?”
“Katie’s doing a great job, so far,” Sam told him. “There’s been only one hiccup.” He decided on the fly that John would be a good person to talk to about the Allie Miller situation since he was fully aware of her Charleston trouble.
“A big or little problem?”
“Not sure yet,” Sam replied. “Allie Miller is an attendee at the conference we’re hosting.”
“Allie Miller? Why is that name familiar?” Before Sam could answer, John continued, “You mean the little schemer who got caught up in that mess in Charleston?”
“The one and only.”
“Is she causing trouble again?” There was agitation evident in his tone. “You better keep a close eye on that woman.”
“Believe me, I am.” Sam swallowed, trying not to focus on how he had been closer to that woman than he should have been. “We’ve also had a burglary.” He gave John the details, including the movement of the video camera.
“Funny how it coincides with Allie Miller’s appearance,” John said.
That’s what Sam thought, too. “Yeah, real funny.” But Sam wasn’t laughing.
They chatted a few more minutes about what the kids were up to and then Emma wanted to talk to Sam.
“Hi, Daddy,” she greeted him.
“Hey there, cutie. Whatcha’ up to?”
He could tell by what she called him what kind of mood she was in. “Dad” was her usual form of address, and “Daddy” meant she wanted something. Look out if she called him “Father.” Just thinking about that superior tone gave him the willies.
“Nothing much. Papa’s cook made us chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, and later we’re going bowling so Oliver will shut up about it.”
Sam grinned. He missed them, even their bickering. “That sounds like fun.”
“I guess so.” She paused. “Daddy, I was wondering if I could get an advance—”
“I knew you wanted something.” Sam kept his tone light. “An advance on your allowance? For what?”
“Oh, Dad.” Emma’s disdain came through loud and clear. She lowered her voice. “I found a birthday gift for Papa. It’s his birthday next week, you know. There’s a half-off coupon online, but it expires tomorrow.”
Sam had completely forgotten about John’s birthday. Thankfully, he had a wonderful daughter to remind him. “Tell you what, send me the link and I’ll pick up the tab. No need to get an advance on your allowance.”
“Really? That would be great! You’re the best, Daddy.” She went on to tell him about the deal she found to have a book made of family photos.
“That sounds like the perfect gift,” Sam agreed. “We can gather pictures when you get home. Is Oliver around? I need to get back to work or your grandfather might replace me.”
Emma laughed as expected and then said, “There’s one more thing.”
“Sure, what is it?”
“I heard Papa talking to you and he mentioned that lady’s name. Allie Miller. Isn’t she the one who caused all that trouble a few years ago?”
Emma had an outstanding memory. She’d been about eight at the time of Allie’s appearance in their lives. Old enough to be aware there was a problem, but too young to process the details. “One and the same,” he said, “but don’t worry. I’m keeping an eye on her.” A very close eye. Maybe too close.
“Okay.” Her answer was hesitant, then she added, “I really don’t like her.” She spoke in earnest. “But I’ll help to watch her when Papa brings us back to the island. I’m not going to let her cause trouble again.”
He was about to tell his daughter that he could handle Allie without her help, but Oliver grabbed the phone to tell Sam all about Papa’s new 3-D television.
As soon as he finished speaking with Oliver and disconnected, Katie showed up in his office doorway. “I have a list of conference attendees. All but two people have checked in.”
“Is one of them Allie Miller?” If the woman he kissed was really Allie’s twin, then Allie would be one of the missing.
Katie checked her list. “No, she arrived and checked in.” She consulted her notes. “We got a call about Peter Reynaud. He had a family emergency, but Jerry Cummings is a no-show.” She handed him the list.
The truth stared him in the face. Allie Miller was attending the conference, not her twin. He should have known when he had first seen her, and again when she’d worn the name tag. She’d lied about having an identical twin. But why? What was she up to this time?
* * *
CHARLOTTE SPENT THE morning in a teak lounge chair on the beach while everyone attended workshops. There were two or three workshops taking place at the same time, so she figured no one would miss her. They’d think she had attended a different workshop than them.
She’d brought her camera and sketch pad, but after taking several pictures of the resort behind her and the ocean view in front of her, she’d packed them away in her tote bag. Then she’d luxuriated in the sunny day and the peace she had found with the sounds of the ocean and the various birds calling as they’d flown over the water searching for food.
“There you are!”
Charlotte turned to see it was the woman from the plane. When they’d checked in together, Charlotte had learned her name was Mona. She stopped next to Charlotte’s chair, hands on her hips and her long, flowing skirt flapping in the breeze. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me. I haven’t seen you since we checked in.”
Charlotte smiled kindly. Mona did know better. “I’ve been around. I needed a break to clear my head.” Charlotte quickly changed the subject. “How are you?”
Mona grabbed her floppy brimmed hat, which was about to blow off her head. “Wonderful! Were you in that workshop about transfer?” She didn’t wait for an answer, pulling her hat down over her mop of resistant curls. “It wasn’t just about transfer, but other techniques, as well. Most of them I’ve heard of or used before, but it was a good refresher.”
“I missed that one.” Charlotte had no idea what transfer was, but filed it away to look up later. Hopefully, Mona wouldn’t ask her what workshops she had attended. The woman was probably a very nice person, but Charlotte needed time to get used to her big personality.
Veronica and Jared were more Charlotte’s speed.
“Anyway,” Mona continued, adjusting her sunglasses, “Katie has been looking everywhere for you.”
“Me?” Charlotte pointed at herself. “Why?”
“How should I know?” Mona said on a shrug. “But I’ll take your lounge chair since you’re getting up.”
The woman didn’t sugarcoat her thoughts and feelings, Charlotte would give her that much. You knew right where you stood with her.
Charlotte rose from her chair, unhappy to be leaving the salty air and sunshine behind. Not to mention the peacefulness of the ocean. At least before Mona interrupted.
As Charlotte made her way across the sand, carrying her sandals in one hand and her tote bag in the other, she puzzled over why Katie wanted to speak to her. Had she figured out Charlotte wasn’t Allie? But why would she care? The conference fee was paid and Katie worked for the hotel, not the company that coordinated the conference.
The lobby was deserted when Charlotte arrived, except for a young woman at the registration desk. “Do you know where I can find Katie?” Charlotte asked.
The young woman gave her a friendly smile and pointed in the direction of the hallway leading to Sam Briton’s office. “She’s probably in her office back that way.”
Charlotte nodded. “Thank you.” She turned in that direction and paused ever so slightly. She had no wish to run into Sam again. Not only was her body remembering what happened between them in his office, but on the beach, as well. Her hand touched her side where he’d massaged her cramp away.
Her head held high, she took the plunge and headed to Katie’s office. The door was open, but her office was empty. Now what?
Just as she was about to look for paper and pencil to leave a note, Katie came up behind her. “Ms. Miller?”
Charlotte spun around. Her pulse rate accelerated as if she’d been caught doing something illegal. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, then continued in a stronger tone, “I was about to leave you a note. You were looking for me?”
Katie smiled. “Yes, I was. It’s actually Mr. Briton who wants to speak with you. He was dealing with some other issues and asked me to locate you.”
Charlotte’s stomach revolted. She didn’t want to talk to Sam Briton...ever. If she’d known Sam was the one who’d requested her presence, she would have stayed on the beach.
Wow! Where did that come from? Maybe the beach air was giving her the courage to stand up for herself, even if it was only in her head. Although, thinking she’d stay on the beach and actually staying there to spite Sam were two different things. After all, he was in charge of the resort. He could easily make trouble for her.
“Please step into my office, Ms. Miller.” The male voice coming down the hall was already intimately familiar. Instead of allowing Sam to intimidate her, she straightened her shoulders and tried not to be too annoyed by his tone.
Without speaking, she did as he requested. His presence was tangible as he followed her into his office. Thankfully, he left the door open as they took positions on either side of his desk. She didn’t need a repeat of last night’s regrettable incident or their chance meeting on the beach this morning.
Now if only she could erase the unsettling images from her mind. Even in the bright light of day, the ghostly impression of last evening’s intimate clinch remained front and center in her brain.
“Have a seat.” Sam’s tone was commanding as he lowered himself into his chair.
She looked at the chair next to her. “I prefer to stand.” Was she channeling Allie’s self-confidence? This could be habit-forming. Standing up for herself felt pretty good. Especially when it was out loud and not merely in her head.
He shrugged, but his eyes narrowed as if he didn’t like her newfound strength. Not that preferring to stand was actually a definitive issue. He probably didn’t care.
He reached across his desk for a piece of paper that looked as if it contained a list. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to below his elbows and Charlotte found herself fascinated once again by his well-developed, tan forearms. Her gaze traveled to his large hands with their long, slim fingers and neatly trimmed nails.
“Allie?” From Sam’s tone, Charlotte suspected it wasn’t the first time he’d addressed her.
She lifted her chin a millimeter. “Yes?” She needed to get used to answering to her sister’s name if she had half a chance at fooling anyone, especially that big client.
“So I guess the jig is up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Last night you tried to convince me you’re not Allie, but her ‘twin’ sister.” He used air quotes, which she disliked immensely, and his mouth twisted as if to mock her. “Charlotte. Isn’t that the name you used?”
Before answering, she sat down in the chair and pulled it closer to the desk so they were eye to eye. She chose her words with deliberation. “My name is Charlotte, and Allie Miller is my identical twin sister.”
He slammed the paper down in front of her. “Then why is Allie Miller on this list of conference attendees and not Charlotte? Why are you wearing your sister’s name tag?”
She put a hand to her name tag and swallowed with difficulty. People in the art world didn’t speak to her like that. “I’m going to trust you’ll keep this between us.”
He stared at her, and she had trouble finding her voice, as well as the words. Where was that self-confidence now?
She spread out her hands on the desk. “Here’s the deal. When I arrived, I found out there’s a man, a presenter, who is looking to switch advertising agencies. I can’t get in touch with my sister to let her know, but I’m hoping to talk the man into allowing Allie to pitch to him. She needs a large account like his to keep her business going. Meanwhile, everyone thinks I’m Allie, no matter how many times I’ve told them I’m her twin. They just think I’m lying.” Exactly like you do. “So I’ll use that to Allie’s advantage.”
“I’m not surprised.” He turned his back to her and faced the ocean through the window. “Just another lie to protect yourself.”
“What!” Charlotte leaned toward him, hands flat on his desk. She spoke to his back, wishing she could face him eye to eye. “Why won’t you believe me? I’m telling the truth!” She sucked in a breath—she should have just shoved her ID in his face when they’d first met. But at this point, she almost didn’t care what he believed. Almost. “I’m not Allie. I’m Charlotte.” It took a lot to make her mad, but she was almost there. “Is that why you summoned me here? To ask why I’m wearing my sister’s name tag? You could have had Katie ask me.”
He was silent for so long, she thought maybe their conversation was over. Then he asked, “Do you know how to climb a palm tree?”
“What?” The question was so far off topic that she nearly laughed. “Why would I climb a palm tree?”
He spun around to face her. “Never mind.” He tapped a pencil on his desk. He didn’t look at her when he said, “We’re done here, Allie. I don’t know what your game is, but I expect you to stay out of trouble this week.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened and she stared at him for a long moment. Talking to the jerk was a worthless cause. She stomped out of his office and headed directly to her room. She needed time alone to get her emotions back under control. The man made her ridiculously angry and frustrated. So unlike her true self. She rarely found someone who irritated her that much.
She ripped off her name tag lanyard and threw it on the bed. Then she opened the French doors leading onto the balcony, choosing to stretch out on the lounge chair overlooking the ocean. Breathing deeply and closing her eyes, the peacefulness of her surroundings slowly, but effectively, calmed her.
Several minutes later, she rose from her chair and stood at the iron railing to watch the ocean. She smiled. The sunlight reflecting on the water inspired her to grab her camera.
Feeling rejuvenated after capturing many different angles through the lens, she checked the time to see that lunch had already begun.
Charlotte threw the lanyard over her head and reached the lobby a few minutes later. She helped herself to the food set up on long tables.
Carrying a water bottle under her arm, a green salad in a bowl and a plate with a half sandwich and tropical fruit, she stepped outside to the lanai and peered at the square tables to locate a free seat.
She’d have been happier taking her food onto the beach or to her room for some more alone time, but instead she gravitated to the chair Jared and Veronica had waiting for her as they had promised at breakfast.
“Thanks for saving me a seat,” she said and meant it sincerely. These two were the bright spots in this trip, as well as her only information about what to tell Allie regarding Raymond Foster.
“I assume Katie found you,” Veronica said before Charlotte could sit down. “She was asking everyone if they’d seen you.” At Charlotte’s nod, Veronica asked, “So what did she want?”
Charlotte set her plate down and pulled out her chair. “Turns out, it wasn’t Katie who wanted to see me. It was the resort manager, Sam Briton.”
Veronica choked on her sudden intake of breath. “That hot guy who dragged you to his office last night like a caveman?”
“That’s the one.” Charlotte was glad she hadn’t confided in anyone about what actually happened in his office. She had merely told her new friends that Sam had mistaken her for someone he knew back in South Carolina. Someone he didn’t care for.
“What did he want?” Jared took a bite of his sandwich.
“He wanted to apologize again for last night.” That seemed like a credible reason. She congratulated herself for coming up with it so easily.
Before they could ask Charlotte more questions, Katie rang a bell to get everyone’s attention.
“This is your fifteen-minute warning,” she said in her perky voice. “Lunch is almost over and workshops will continue until five o’clock. Please read your provided schedule for times and locations. I’ll be around to answer any questions.” She glanced at the paper she held. “Dinner will be served at six o’clock, followed by some entertainment I’m sure you’ll enjoy. The bar will be open until midnight.” At the crowd’s obvious delight at her last statement, Katie waved and retreated into the lobby.
Fifteen minutes passed quickly as Charlotte, Jared and Veronica discussed which workshops to attend. Charlotte made sure to pick a different one from them. Then they scrambled to finish lunch and get to their chosen workshop. Charlotte went along with the hurrying, thinking she could hide out on the balcony of her room for the afternoon.
That was one place she could definitely avoid running into Sam Briton.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_a749050e-bf34-5e3e-8a84-8143cc8da431)
ALLIE AND JACK left early Saturday morning for Devonshire, Vermont, a small town on the north side of the Green Mountain National Forest. They had just exited US 91 in Vermont when Allie said, “I hope Charlotte made it okay. She was supposed to text me when she got there.” She turned to Jack, who was driving. “Have you heard from her?”
“Not that I know of.” He pointed to his phone. “Is there anything on my phone?”
She picked it up from the center console and pressed the button to wake it up. “There’s a missed call from Charlotte. I wonder why she called you and not me.” Allie dug through her purse for her phone. “My phone’s dead. No wonder I haven’t heard from her.”
“Why don’t you call her back on my phone,” Jack suggested.
“Good idea. I’ll have to charge mine when we get to the B and B. How much longer till we arrive?”
“About an hour and a half according to the GPS,” he said. “You okay waiting for lunch? There are supposed to be some nice places in town.”
“That’s fine. I’d rather get there sooner than later.” They’d left Allie’s apartment in Providence around nine and it was about a three-and-a-half-hour drive.
“I wish the leaves hadn’t already dropped,” she said as she navigated Jack’s phone to find Charlotte’s number. “I also wish I knew how your stupid phone works.”
He laughed. “Just go to missed calls and her number will be there.”
She found it and the call went through. Unfortunately, she got Charlotte’s voice mail. “Hey, Charlotte, this is Allie on Jack’s phone. Mine’s dead. Will charge it at the B and B. I’m guessing you made it to the island. Have fun! Talk to you soon.”
She disconnected and turned off Jack’s phone. “Now that we’re pretty sure she made it okay, we should turn off our phones so we’re not distracted.”
Jack glanced at her, his eyebrows dancing and his eyes gleaming. “Sounds good to me.” He turned back to concentrate on the road. “I talked to Granddad this morning and he’s fine. We can turn the phones on every few hours just to check for messages.”
“Deal.”
Allie put their phones into her purse and sat back to enjoy the view. “Have I mentioned what a wonderful idea this was?”
Jack grinned. “We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.”
* * *
CHARLOTTE AWOKE WITH a start. It took a few seconds before she realized where she was.
She must have drifted off to sleep while enjoying the peacefulness of her balcony. The lounge chair was ever so comfortable and the sounds of the ocean had calmed her into oblivion.
She checked her cell phone for the time and saw a missed call from Jack. That must have been what woke her. She listened to Allie’s message. Darn! Why didn’t her sister say anything about Raymond Foster? Had Allie’s phone been dead since Charlotte first called late yesterday afternoon? She obviously hadn’t listened to Charlotte’s messages yet.
She quickly hit the button to redial Jack’s number and got his voice mail. She disconnected without leaving a message. Then she tried calling Allie with the same result. She left a message this time, mentioning Raymond Foster’s plans and asking Allie to call as soon as she got the message. Then Charlotte set her phone aside. What was she going to do now? She hadn’t a clue how to put a presentation together. That was Allie’s field of expertise. What a shame it would be if she went to all the trouble of pretending to be Allie and then her sister wasn’t able to follow through to impress the client.
Popping up from her chair and heading back inside her room, she decided to look at the workshop schedule again. Maybe there was a workshop that would help her.
She’d left her tote bag and purse on a chair, but now her purse was open and things had spilled out of it. Her heart pounded. She dug into her small purse to find her wallet gone. She dumped her purse on the bed, making sure she hadn’t missed it.
“Where could it be?” She spoke aloud to her empty room and looked around to see if her wallet had somehow fallen out of her purse.
No sign of it. Then she dumped out her tote bag, which she only carried to make it appear she was attending the conference. The workshop schedule drifted out.
She looked under the chair and opened the door to the hallway to see if her wallet was out there. Nothing. And nobody. Even the cleaning people were gone for the day.
She closed the door and locked the dead bolt, then stood in place for several minutes assessing the situation. She needed to report it to the hotel.
Which probably meant dealing with Sam again. He’d no doubt blame her for not securing her door with the dead bolt and then sleeping through a robbery.
She swallowed and crossed to the room phone. “I’d like to report a theft,” she said when the front desk picked up.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” the man said. “Can you give me details?”
“My wallet was stolen from my purse. It was on a chair in my room while I was on the balcony. There wasn’t much cash, but there were two credit cards and my driver’s license.”
“Is there anything else missing? Any electronics or jewelry?”
Her breath caught. She hadn’t considered that. Then she realized she’d locked her laptop in the safe and her phone had been with her on the balcony. “Not that I know of.”
“I’ll report this to the manager and someone will be in touch with you soon.”
“Thank you.” She hung up, wondering which was worse—the theft or dealing with Sam. Maybe he’d send someone else since he didn’t seem to like being around her any more than she liked being around him.
She got out her laptop to get a phone number for her credit card companies. By the time she’d made the calls to report the theft, there was a loud knock on her door.
Checking the peephole as a precaution, she opened the door to Sam.
“Come in.” She moved back so he could do just that, unable to stop herself from breathing in his now-familiar scent.
He turned to her as she closed the door and faced him. “You had a theft?”
His businesslike attitude was actually a relief. She didn’t need more threats and accusations.
“Yes.” She repeated what she’d told the desk clerk.
He looked at the bed and must have noticed that her purse contents were strewn all over.
“I dumped my purse to make sure I hadn’t missed my wallet.”
He nodded. “And nothing else was taken?” He surveyed the room.
“I had my laptop locked in the safe and my phone was with me on the balcony.”
“And you’re sure you didn’t leave your wallet somewhere? A pocket? Your suitcase? The safe?”
His question made her doubt herself, but for only a few seconds. “I’m sure. I know I didn’t leave my purse open and things strewn about when I went out to the balcony.”
“You read the note that was delivered to everyone about keeping valuables locked up?”
“Yes.” The man could infuriate her in an instant. “I didn’t think that meant they had to be locked up while I was still in the room.”
He ignored her jab and made a few notes on a pad he pulled from his pocket. “Why weren’t you at the workshops?”
His question startled her. She was mentally exhausted trying to convince him of her identity and now he was questioning her every move. “I was learning how to climb palm trees instead.”
His glare said he didn’t appreciate her humor.
“I had a headache and decided to come up here to rest.” Lying didn’t come easily to her, but the fib wasn’t far from the truth. Her pulse now pounded in her temples.
“I see.”
Was he turning this on her? Blaming her for the theft? “You see what?” Her tone was sharper than she intended.
He looked up again from writing on his pad. “I see that you weren’t feeling well and decided to skip the afternoon workshops.” He stared at her and finally added, “Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is.” She’d been put in her place. She straightened and asked, “What are you going to do about the theft?”
He pocketed his pad. “I’ll alert our head of security and have him check the video of the hallway outside your door.”
“Oh!” That was great news. “So you might be able to find my wallet?”
“That’s my hope.” He surveyed her room. “Let me ask you something. Had your room been cleaned before you returned or was it done during your nap on the balcony?”
“It was already done when I came up here after lunch.”
He pursed his lips.
“Why does that matter?” she asked.
“Because unless your door wasn’t shut tight, the only people who could have gotten in would have been staff, which includes Housekeeping. Your door was secure?”
She thought back to when she looked out into the hallway. “It was closed tight after I noticed the theft, but I can’t say for sure about before.” She narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t trying to blame me for this, are you?”
“Not at all,” but he didn’t sound convincing. “I’m gathering the facts. Even if your door had been left wide open, there’s no excuse for the theft.” He walked to the door, his hand grasping the handle. “I’m very sorry about this, Ms. Miller. I’ll be in touch.”
So it was Ms. Miller, now, was it? Her frustration threatened to spill over, but she kept it in check. Without her ID, she couldn’t prove who she was. Why had she been so stubborn? She should have simply waved her ID in his face the first time he’d asked for it.
He was out the door before she could say another word.
* * *
SAM LEFT ALLIE’S ROOM, wondering how she was involved in the burglary. Was it a coincidence that the thefts began with her arrival? Had she purposely made herself a victim to throw him off, or had her wallet actually been stolen? Such a coincidence to have her wallet stolen after he’d asked her for ID to prove she was Charlotte and not Allie.
He returned to his office to discover a message about another theft. Someone attending the conference hadn’t locked their laptop in their safe and it was missing. He immediately dialed his head of security.
“Hey, George, we’ve got more problems.” He filled him in on the thefts. “I’m going to talk to the guest whose laptop was stolen, but I’d like you to take a look at the video from the third-floor hallway. Both thefts were from the same floor.”

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