The Third Twin

She was shaking her head back and forth even before he finished.

“You could call Gavin and invite him to come with us,” he added.

“No!”

Instant and vehement. So there was some sort of problem between them. A lovers’ spat? He’d never realized his friend was an idiot. Wyatt shouldn’t have liked the fleeting notion that maybe their relationship wasn’t what he’d thought.

“I don’t want to talk to Gavin right now,” she amended quickly. “I’m not… I don’t feel like talking to anyone right now.”

That was pointed enough, but he wasn’t about to let her go when she was so obviously upset.

“Then we won’t talk,” he agreed. “But let’s get out of this sun before we fry.”

She studied his face. Wyatt was relieved when, after a moment’s hesitation, she fell into step beside him. Despite this unexpected jolt of attraction to her, he had no intention of encroaching on his friend’s relationship with Leigh. This was strictly business. He was a cop with a case to solve, and the contents of that briefcase were of major interest to him. He’d keep things light and impersonal. Once he gained her trust, he’d ask her about the case.

Of course, gaining her trust would be the hard part.

ALEXIS WONDERED if she’d taken leave of her senses. Going anywhere with this incredibly handsome stranger was pure folly, yet she’d taken one look into those warm brown eyes and felt an instant connection to this man. The impact had rattled her more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t breathtakingly handsome, but he was the sort of man a woman would always notice.

What on earth had possessed her to let him believe she was someone else?

Because it had seemed the quickest way to get rid of him. Obviously that had been a big mistake on her part. What would he do if she told him she had no idea who Leigh or Gavin were? Or him, either, for that matter?

The thought was dangerously tempting. She was so tired she couldn’t seem to think past her fear and exhaustion. Her father’s note had told her to come here for answers, only there were no answers for her here. Ira Rosencroft was dead.

Alexis had wanted to ask the woman inside how he’d died, but a man had come out of an office to ask a question. Maybe this Gavin person. The receptionist or whoever she’d been had asked the man to wait while she offered Alexis an appointment to see a Mr. Jarret next week.

Alexis declined. Her father’s note had said not to trust anyone except the lawyer and someone named Kathy. But when she had asked the woman if a Kathy worked there, the woman had shaken her head. With the man standing there waiting, Alexis had thanked her and left. Now she didn’t know what to do.

An uneven bit of pavement sent her stumbling. The man beside her had a firm, strong grip as he took her bare arm to keep her from falling. His touch reinforced her vibrant awareness of him. Under other circumstances, she might have welcomed the unexpected reaction. As it was, she wished he’d go away and let her think.

“Easy, there.”

His voice was soothing to nerves that felt stretched far too tight.

“Why don’t you let me carry that case for you?”

Panic lifted her eyes to his. “No!”

Instantly his expression changed. What was the matter with her? She’d overreacted, made him curious. Calling his attention to the briefcase like that had been stupid. He’d already expressed an interest in the contents. If he saw all that money…

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I haven’t had much sleep and my nerves are a little shot right now,” she told him truthfully.

His expression relaxed. Her stomach gave a funny little lurch at the compassion in his eyes.

“I know,” he told her. “It’s okay. Come on. I’m parked right over here.”

There was nothing for it but to resume walking. The kindness in his warm brown eyes was dangerous. Dangerous, because she wanted to trust him. She was so tired. So scared. Grief had vied with fear all night long. She’d taken a room at a motel right off the highway last night and had lain sleeplessly, going over and over her father’s death, wondering what she could have done differently.

The half cup of coffee she’d managed to swallow this morning was still burning a hole in her stomach lining. It was so hard to think.

Her roommate was in California for the week, which meant that no one had yet discovered her father’s body.

Except his killers.

She shouldn’t have run. She should have stayed and called the police. She nearly had called more than once last night. But each time she’d reached for the telephone, fear had stilled her hand. The police would have questions. Alexis didn’t have answers.

She’d thought if she talked to this Mr. Rosencroft first, everything would make sense. But if he was dead, too, she didn’t know where to go next. Had he been murdered, as well?

Her father had said his killers would come after her next. He’d been right. But who were they? What was she supposed to do with all this money?

Her companion stopped at a car parked in front of a fire-gutted building. Alexis had noticed the burned-out remains earlier on her way into town. He opened the passenger door of the trim black sedan and began stacking several files sitting on the seat.

This was insane. What was she doing, getting in a car with a total stranger? Only a fool would do something so stupid. She wasn’t a stupid person. Yet she had no desire to turn and run in the opposite direction.

He cleared the passenger seat of papers and folders, dumping everything on the back seat, which was already littered with other items.

“Sorry. I’m afraid I’ve been using the car as something of a spare closet.”

His embarrassment was sort of reassuring. Tall and lean, with a thick head of dark, curling hair, he had an easygoing manner that offered her frazzled nerves a false sense of security. There was confidence and a sense of strength about him. More important, he knew things. Things she desperately needed to know.

Who was Leigh? Undoubtedly related to her if they looked enough alike to be mistaken for one another. Stony Ridge did have answers after all. So did this man. All she had to do was to ask the right questions.

Alexis hesitated, debating her options. She glanced at the building behind her. A smoky scent lingered in the heavy, humid air. The fire must have burned hot and furious, because the insides had been destroyed with savage completeness.

“You and Gavin were lucky the other night,” he said in a hard tone of voice. “If you’d been upstairs when that gas line blew…”

Upstairs? She raised her eyes and realized there had been living quarters above the shop. The thought that anyone might have been inside was horrifying.

“You want to toss your briefcase back here?” he asked, dismissing both the fire and the building.

Should she go with him or stay here?

He waited calmly, as if he sensed her indecision. There was nothing remotely threatening in his manner. She liked that he was giving her time to decide. But when it came right down to it, she had nowhere else to go.

Alexis handed him the heavy case. He set it on the back seat without a word about its weight and stepped back, holding the door open for her.

The car was low. Her skirt scooted up her thigh as she sat. She felt his stare as she struggled to pull it into place. If his expression had been the least bit lecherous, she’d have been out of the car instantly, but his gaze held only a masculine appreciation she might have enjoyed if things had been different.

Watching him stride around to the driver’s side, Alexis had all sorts of time for second and third thoughts. Going anywhere with this vibrant stranger was a really stupid thing to do. He thought she was someone named Leigh. How long could she maintain the pretense before he saw through the sham? She wasn’t up to this. Heck, she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

He offered her a smile as he slid behind the wheel. Her clenched muscles began to relax. The man had a breathtaking smile.

“I’m afraid it’ll take a second or two for the air conditioner to put out anything like cool air. Jezzy here isn’t up to dealing with this sort of heat.”

“You named your car?”

His grin widened unselfconsciously. “Blame it on my mother. She and my sisters always named our cars. I guess I picked up the habit.”