The Unknown Twin

Several curses.

At one point, Alex grabbed the ball, leaped up and seemed to freeze in the air—she’d title the scene “Poetry in Motion” if she had a chance to paint it. He released the ball. It arced, then swished into the net.

“Hot damn, I’m good.” He executed a high five with another guy; two others swore.

One man grabbed the ball, jogged to the top of the court and cracked his hand on it. That must signal game in play because the four men began running all over the place.

“I’m open,” somebody yelled. The ball handler hurled the ball at him, just as Alex stepped in front. He intercepted it and turned, but somebody rammed into him, landing him right on his fanny.

“Oh!” she said with a gasp.

As a group, they turned. Alex, from the blacktop, smiled up at her. It was a male smile, one that said I’m glad to see you. “Hey, Lauren, hi.”

“Are you all right?” she asked, edging up to the court.

“Yeah, sure.”

“His butt’s as hard as his head,” one guy put in.

From the firehouse, somebody called out, “Lunch in ten, guys.”

“We’re done, anyway,” another player said. They bade goodbye, leaving Lauren alone with Alex.

Lithe as a cat, he rolled to his feet and crossed to her. She fought the urge to back up. She hadn’t remembered him being quite so big, but today, out here, he looked…overwhelming. Tall, at least six-two. Really broad shoulders under a sweat-soaked gray T-shirt. His hair was damp, his face ruddy and dripping. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. It didn’t help. “Good to see you.”

“You, too.” Her voice sounded raw, even to her own ears.

He gave her a studied look. “Still not feeling well?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Your voice is hoarse.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. I, um, came by on my way to work to bring you some cookies I baked as thank-you.”

He propped a foot up on a nearby bench and leaned over, resting his elbow on his knee. His legs were corded with muscles and covered with a sparse growth of dark hair. He wore heavy high-tops on his feet. “I got a beautiful little painting for my bedroom wall as thanks from you.”

“You put it in your bedroom?”

His light brown eyes darkened. “I will as soon as my house is painted.” He nodded to the fire station. “Hey, you wanna stay for lunch? We’re having sloppy joes and French fries.”

Oh, God, and eat with this one hundred eighty pounds of pure male flesh? “I don’t think so.”

“Why?”

She bit her lip and his eyes focused on the action. She felt his gaze in her stomach—and lower. “I’m going to the office.”

“You’re up and running again in the place next door, right?”

“Yeah. Lucky thing it was vacant. Our press is still operating in the old building’s basement, though. It wasn’t damaged.”

“How long will you be working out of the temporary offices?”

“Another couple of weeks, I guess. The west side will have to be rebuilt, but they’ll wall it off and we can work in the rest of the space.”

“I’ve been wondering how you were.”

Then why didn’t you call me? she wanted to ask. But didn’t, of course.

“As I said, I’m fine.”

His eyes flashed with male appreciation. “I’ve been thinking about you, Lauren.”

“Oh?”

“I saw your first cartoon. I recognized Deirdre—she looks like you.”

“Did you like it?”

“Sure. Is it autobiographical?”

Yes. “Of course not. It’s just a cartoon.”

“By the way, I talked to Dana. She was fascinated to have a look-alike right in town. She’s dying to meet you when she gets back.”

“That would be nice.”

He scowled. “I still can’t get over the resemblance. My mother’s away at a conference and I couldn’t reach her.”

“Oh, well, that’s not necessary.” She stepped to the side. “I’ll let you get to your lunch.”

He laid a gentle hand on her arm. “Want to have dinner some night with me, Lauren?”

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know, like on a date.”

“A date?”

“Uh-huh, where two people agree to go somewhere together.”

“Um, I’m busy.” She raised the purse she carried to her chest, effectively shrugging off his touch.

“I didn’t give you a day or time.”

She sighed.

“Look, if you don’t want to go out with me, just say so.”