Which Twin?

A thin brown face appeared at the driver’s side window. Anticipation glittered in the teenager’s dark eyes as Logan replied, “We’ll see. Give us a moment, okay?”

When the boy stepped back, Logan turned to Rose. “I have a proposition for you. It’s of a rather sensitive nature, and given that I’m rather well known in the city, it’s not something I’d feel comfortable discussing in a crowded restaurant. I live in the building across the street. There’s a conservatory on the top floor, an area that’s both public and private at the same time, so you needn’t worry that I’m luring you to my lair. We can stop at the deli to pick up some sandwiches. What do you say?”

Rose wasn’t sure what to say. She glanced around, disoriented.

Apparently, while she’d mulled over the question of her finances and the pain of her recent loss, she’d failed to notice that Logan Maguire hadn’t been driving toward her hotel, as she had assumed. Instead of finding herself in the heart of downtown San Francisco, she discovered that they’d come to a stop on a street running along the southern edge of the bay.

The silver-toned Oakland Bridge soared off to her right. On her left, the building Logan had referred to stretched down the street in both directions, a peachy stucco several stories high with iron balconies and windows framed by brightly colored shutters. High-priced condos, she decided, set up to look like something in a quaint Mediterranean fishing village.

Quaint and expensive.

Tension crept into her shoulders. Once upon a time quaint and expensive had called to her like honey called a fly. And had caught her, just as surely. But, she reminded herself, she’d escaped. Now, forewarned was forearmed. She could walk into quaint and expensive with no fear of becoming entangled in its silky web. She could satisfy her still-unquenched curiosity about this Anna person, then walk away and return to her own pared-down and simple life.

Freed, hopefully, from the dreams that had so haunted her.

“All right,” she replied.

“Leon.” Logan turned to the boy. “Do you know how important my car is?”

The kid nodded solemnly. “You restored every piece of her yourself, and you will hurt anyone who so much as scratches her bumper.”

“Right,” Logan said as he got out. “I’ll call the garage when I’m ready for you to bring her back, in an hour or so.”

Rose watched the boy’s face light up as Logan handed him the keys. By the time Logan reached her side of the car, Leon was behind the wheel, obviously ready to take off as soon as Rose got out. And sure enough, the moment her door closed the kid gunned the motor to a loud roar. He then let it ease to a purr before shooting a grin toward Logan and pulling sedately away from the curb.

Logan led her across the street, then pulled a cell phone from his jacket. As they entered the small deli located on the building’s ground floor, she heard him ask about “the family home project” as she gazed at the selection of salads behind the slanted glass counter.

When the phone conversation ended, Logan stepped up to the counter to order. After the food was prepared and packaged, Rose noted Logan’s composed response to what she considered an exorbitant amount of money for food and beverages that barely filled one small grocery sack, while it was all she could do to keep from choking.

She should be accustomed to people who thought little or nothing of spending large amounts of money, she told herself. After all, her mother’s shop would hardly have supported the two of them, along with her partner, Goldie Lander, for the past nineteen years, if not for customers who were willing and able to pay top dollar for the items on display.

And, she reminded herself as she followed Logan to the stainless-steel elevator, there was nothing intrinsically wrong with that heady lifestyle. She’d simply learned that the cost to maintain it was too high for her blood. No regrets, she told herself as she followed Logan into the elevator.

The area that greeted Rose when the doors opened again whispered of understated elegance. The terra cotta floor was open to the blue sky above, protected from wind and rain by large panes of glass. Here and there lacy potted palms and dwarf citrus trees screened benches or umbrella-covered tables.

Aware that Logan had been as silent as she since leaving the deli, she followed him to one of the tables, where he placed a sandwich and container of salad in front of her. He then took a small pad of paper out of his jacket pocket and began making notations on it with his right hand as he devoured the sandwich in his left.

Rose realized that this was the first chance she’d had to really study the man since those first breathless moments on the balcony, when he’d seemed a dream come true. And, if one went by looks alone, that was just how this man would appear, with his square-jawed, tanned features. The fact that he was every bit as well built as the fit of his jacket indicated had been something she’d learned as she lay pinned to Anna’s bed beneath that powerful body, a memory that now brought a blush to her cheeks and heat flowing wildly through her veins.

Oh, yes, the man of her dreams, she thought as she placed a forkful of macaroni salad in her mouth. Except for the fact that Logan Maguire seemed to be every bit as controlling as the last man she’d thought of in that way. Logan was a man of power, just like Josh—a man who knew what was best for everyone and didn’t hesitate to use charm, coercion or even force to get others to see things his way.

Feeling old angers rise, Rose glanced at her surroundings. She had to admit it would be easy to get used to this sort of life again. Chewing a bite of sandwich, she took in the vistas provided by the windows and the glass roof above. Without even working at it, she could easily allow herself to slip back into the world of wealth and privilege.

Except, she doubted that the price had changed since the last time she considered such a move. And her soul was no longer for sale.

Rose sighed and swallowed her last bite of the vegetable foccacia, then realized she hadn’t said one word to the man who’d paid for it. Lovely manners, she chided herself before saying, “Great view you have here.”

Her words had caught Logan with his mouth full of meatball sandwich. In reply he lifted his eyebrows and nodded.

“Yeah, it is,” he said after swallowing. He glanced around slowly. “I’d almost forgotten about this place. The real estate agent walked me through this area when she showed me the condo, but this is the first chance I’ve had to spend any time up here.”

Rose shook her head. She didn’t know why his words surprised her. Her experience with Joshua Whitney should have taught her how little the very well-off really knew about getting the most out of life.

“Something wrong?”

Logan’s question pulled Rose’s gaze from the magnificent San Francisco skyline rising beyond the glass wall in front of her. When she turned to him, the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of the green water stretching out toward the east bay.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I tend to get irritated when natural beauty is ignored.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “Ignored? By me?”

“Yep. You have this great place you can use anytime, and you don’t even take the trouble to come up here.”

“And that bothers you, because…”

“Because,” Rose started, then shut her mouth. Waste of time, she told herself. She’d had this conversation before, or at least a strikingly similar one. And the last thing she needed at the moment was to have someone point out how naive and unsophisticated she was, then attempt to teach her about the “finer things in life,” like caviar.

Unable to prevent the shudder brought on by the thought of those salty, slimy little eggs, she made the gesture into a shrug.

“Never mind. Look, the lunch was delicious and the view spectacular. I appreciate your sharing both of them with me, but—”

“But,” Logan broke in, “we have more important matters to discuss. I want you to stay at the Benedicts’ house a bit longer, to pretend to be Anna. You won’t have to do much. Everyone already thinks that you are—”

“No,” Rose managed to break in.

Logan frowned. “Why not?”

“Why not?” Rose echoed. “My life is in Seattle. I have…things to do. Obligations to fulfill.” A life to put back together, she finished silently.

Logan seemed to consider her words carefully before he leaned forward, looked deep into her eyes and asked, “You mean to tell me you’re going to leave without meeting Anna? You claim that you’ve come all the way from Seattle to find a view that has been haunting your dreams for years, learned that it can be seen from the room belonging to a woman who looks exactly like you, and you’re going to leave without taking the trouble to meet this person?”

Rose could hardly miss the way his tone mocked the words she’d so recently flung at him. She also thought she caught a teasing glint in his eyes, but his lips showed no hint of a smile.

“It’s not the same thing,” she replied. “Besides, as I said, I have a—”

“Life to get back to. Of course. You have kids?” Rose shook her head.

“A husband?”

Again Rose shook her head. Careful to keep her voice neutral, she replied, “Not any longer.”

Logan lifted one eyebrow. “Bad breakup?”

“No, actually. I think we were both relieved when it ended.”

With that response, Rose shifted her attention to the skyline again. That wasn’t the complete truth, of course, but she didn’t think this man needed to hear the entire story.

After several seconds she heard Logan ask softly, “Then what are you running away from, Rosie?”