The Unknown Twin

“No. But I gather this Dana looks like me.”

Alex cocked his head, then reached around into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet. He leafed through several pictures before he stopped, pulled one out and handed it to her.

Lauren looked down. In the picture was a woman with long luscious hair and curves to die for outlined in a wild-print bikini. She held a surfboard and leaned on the smiling, sun-burnished man whose arm was around her. The man was Alex.

The woman looked exactly like Lauren.

The similarity made her light-headed and caused her heart to trip. What was going on here?

“THIS REALLY WASN’T necessary.” Lauren, dressed in baggy hospital scrubs, turned in the front seat of Alex’s Blazer to face him. She’d showered before she was released and her hair curled softly around her face. He didn’t know if she normally wore makeup, but without it, he could see the few freckles smattering her nose. Just like Dana’s. It was hard to believe she wasn’t related to his friend. “But I appreciate it.”

“I don’t mind. I was on my way home, anyway.”

“Still, it was nice of you.” She coughed. “I didn’t feel like driving.”

“Smoke inhalation can be bad. You should take it easy today.” He reached for the door handle. “The landlord said he’d meet you here, right?”

“Yeah.” She glanced down at her watch; her wrist so slender he’d be able to encircle it with his fingers. She touched the timepiece lovingly.

“A special possession?” he asked.

“My mother gave it to me.”

“Does she live in Courage Bay?”

“She and my father were both killed in an accident.” A shadow crossed her pretty eyes. “A little over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave Alex a half smile that did something to his insides. It was a smile similar to Dana’s when she was being soft and feminine. “At least the watch was spared in the fire.”

He smiled. “You’ll probably get your purse back. The flames were contained to the east side of the building. Smoke damage is the worst your office got, and that can be cleaned up.”

“Thank God I’d moved out of the side that burned. I’m lucky, I guess.”

“Well, at least you weren’t hurt badly.”

“When do you think I’ll be able to move back into my office?”

“As soon as the arson team finishes.”

Her eyes widened. “Arson team?”

“Yeah, we couldn’t determine the cause of the fire, so the arson investigator, Sam Prophet, was called in. It could have been an incendiary blaze.”

“That means set intentionally, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

She shivered.

“Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Rounding the car, he opened her door and helped her stand. She was trembling. It was about seventy degrees, warm enough at eight o’clock in the morning. “You cold?”

She rubbed her bare arms. “A little.”

“Shell-shocked, I’d guess.”

“It’s sinking in.” She peered up at him with doe eyes. “I could have died in that fire.”

That was true. People slept through fires and never woke up.

Something made him slide his arm around her. Just a little human compassion, he guessed. Still, it felt good when she leaned into him. She was slight—a lot slighter than Dana. That had registered when he’d carried her down the ladder, but didn’t make sense until now.

And she was a lot more fragile. Alex was accustomed to being around women who could beat him now and then at racquetball or who were at least worthy opponents in pickup beach volleyball.

The landlord pulled up, inquired after Lauren’s well-being, unlocked the house, then left them alone. She turned in the doorway. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she smiled at Alex. “What do you say to a man who saved your life?” she asked softly. Her voice was different from Dana’s, too—mellower, more feminine—but her speech patterns were the same.

“Thanks is enough.” But the scared look on her face made him add, “Or maybe offer him a cup of coffee. Us smoke eaters really need our caffeine, ma’am.”

Laughing, she stepped inside. “That’s the least I can do.”

She led him into her home. Studying the room, he let on a low whistle. It literally took his breath away. He’d never seen such a wide array of colors, textures and unusual furnishings. The living-room rug was raspberry and so thick that his sandals sank into it.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll fix the coffee.” Before she left, she opened two huge windows. The tinkle of wind chimes drifted in. Then, she disappeared into the kitchen.

He bypassed the off-white, nubby couch and sat on a long chaiselike thing that conformed to his body when he stretched out. Plump rose-colored cushions enveloped him. Picking up one of the several geometric-patterned pillows that accented the blues, grays and pinks in the room, he scanned the rest of the place.

Jeez, look at that. In the corner was a full-size hammock. He got up and crossed to it. He’d never seen one indoors. The wall behind it was decorated with an array of mesmerizing paintings. He circled around the hammock to examine them closely. The artist’s signature read “LAC.” Delicate, wispy strokes etched out the water, the mountains, the forest. They were abstract, but he knew for certain what each painting portrayed.

“What do you think?” He turned to see her holding a small tabby kitten. As he watched, she rubbed her cheek on the animal’s furry little head. Another kitten scurried at her feet.

“Are you kidding?” He pointed to a small picture. “It feels like I’m wading in that lake. I can smell those flowers.”

Her smile was broad. “I’m glad you like them.” She set the kitten on the floor—it stayed at her feet like a toddler would its mother—and, crossing to the wall, reached up and took a painting down. “Here, as a thank-you for saving my life.”

“You don’t have to do that. Just tell me who the artist is and I’ll look him up.”

“The artist is a she.”

He cocked his head. She seemed…proud. “You, Lauren?”

She nodded.

“They’re wonderful. They should be in a gallery. For sale.”

Her frown was instantaneous. “No. I wouldn’t want to do that.” She fingered the delicate teak frame. “It would be like selling a child.” She handed him the canvas. “You can adopt it. It’ll be safe with you.”