The Third Twin

She turned away from the building and caught him staring. His chagrin was forgotten when haunted blue eyes regarded him with no trace of recognition. Wyatt took a chance on the name.

“Leigh? Is something wrong?”

A stupid question given the current circumstances. No purse, he noticed, but she clutched the large, scuffed briefcase against her chest. Stained and battered, the case wasn’t the sort of accessory he’d associate with a Hart. He set that thought aside as his attention was drawn back to those wide, crystal-blue eyes. Fatigue mixed with sorrow dulled them—a painful reminder that his “case” was her mother’s death.

Wyatt closed the distance between them. “Is Gavin inside?” He nodded toward the door at her back.

Her forlorn expression changed to one of confusion. Her gaze flicked toward the building and back to his face, sliding away quickly.

“The office is closed.”

Her soft voice came out flat and empty. He barely controlled the impulse that started his hand in the direction of her slim, bare arm.

“Has something else happened?”

A flash of fear came and went so fast he wasn’t positive it was what he’d seen.

“Excuse me,” she said more firmly. “I have to go.”

Her reaction was all wrong. So was her appearance. Where was Gavin? Or her sister, for that matter? Leigh shouldn’t be out here alone. She looked like someone running on empty.

Wyatt blocked her path and nodded at the case. “Are those your grandfather’s files?”

Her knuckles whitened as she hugged the awkward case more tightly to her chest.

“I have to go,” she repeated.

He touched her shoulder, stopping her. She raised startled eyes to his. The tip of her tongue touched her lips. The nervous gesture was not the least bit erotic yet it made him sharply aware of her as a woman.

She took a quick step back. Wyatt let his hand fall to his side. Her wary expression made him frown.

She raised her face. “What is it you want?” she demanded.

Several totally inappropriate answers sprang to mind. What the devil was wrong with him? This was Leigh. He was almost positive it was Leigh. While he barely knew the twins, Hayley’s ability to put a man in his place was legendary.

“I’m not your enemy.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Can we talk?”

“Another time. I have to go.”

“Where?”

The question stopped her. For an instant she stared at him in consternation. He would have sworn there was a hint of desperation, even fear, in those expressive eyes. Something was wrong here.

“Let me pass.”

Her voice was still firm.

“I could make the request official.”

Definitely a lick of fear.

“What do you mean?”

His conscience gave a guilty twist. Her vulnerable expression was getting to him. The last thing he wanted was to make her afraid.

“I know we haven’t met under the best of circumstances, but I’m not my uncle, Leigh. I’m on your side.”

She inhaled visibly. Watching her marshal her mental defenses took only a split second, but it revealed quite a bit about her. Leigh would face whatever life tossed at her. He should have known that from the way she’d handled herself when Ducort had threatened to kill her. Still, his admiration went up another notch as she raised her chin another notch and held his gaze.

“What side would that be, exactly?”

Mentally he applauded the challenge. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we can discuss it.”

“It’s ninety-eight degrees out here.”

“Good point.” He offered her a wry smile. “How about an iced tea instead?”

“Thanks, but I have to go…home.”

The catch in her voice gave him another glimpse of her vulnerability. Wyatt shook his head. “I’m assuming you don’t mean home to Boston, but if you mean to the Walken estate, I just came from there. Nan said everyone left to avoid the media. They’re still camped out in front of both estates. And if you meant Heartskeep, the state police haven’t finished their investigation yet.”

Panic flared in her expression. While she had plenty of reason to distrust the police, panic made no sense. Yet she looked ready to bolt.

“One drink,” he said gently. “Better yet, what about an ice-cream cone?”

“Ice cream?”

She formed the words as if they were foreign to her. Her eyes skimmed the street—searching for a way to escape? What the devil was going on? He’d take bets it had something to do with her death grip on that case.

This didn’t seem like a good time to remind her of the talk they were supposed to have about the events surrounding her mother’s disappearance.

“Ice cream,” he said calmly. “You know, that frozen stuff that melts on your tongue when you lick it.”

Her eyes widened. He hadn’t meant a sexual connotation, but even to him the words came out sounding that way.

“I can’t.”

“We don’t have to talk, Leigh,” he coaxed gently. “I told you I’d make an appointment for that. I’d just like some company right now. I’m not used to having nothing to do all day.”

She stared at him blankly.

Tempted to explain his temporary suspension, he decided it was better not to remind her of the events of the other night. She’d come far too close to being killed as it was.

“We could drive out to Golden’s, grab a cone and come right back.”