time. She was eighteen years old, lying on the sand naked, lazily warm and content, her limbs entwined with his, their faces so close they were almost touching. She’d always liked being physically close, as if proximity lessened the chance that she would ever lose him. Touch me, Seth, hold me.
He’d touched her, held her, and she’d lost him anyway.
And clearly he was surprised to have found her again.
Shock flickered across his face, followed by confusion. He reached out and pushed her hat back, taking a closer look at her face. “Fliss?”
She was confused, too. She’d assumed time would have diluted the effect he had on her. Neutralized her feelings. Instead it seemed as if it had concentrated everything. She hadn’t seen his face for almost ten years, and yet everything about it was painfully familiar. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the few wayward strands of hair that insisted on flopping over his forehead, those thick lashes that framed eyes as dark as a pirate’s heart. Sexual awareness punched through her with shocking force. The magnetic pull was so powerful the force of it almost jerked her forward. If she’d been in the car, the air bag would have deployed.
She was baking hot and sweaty, which made her all the more resentful that he managed to look so cool. He was wearing a white button-down shirt and khakis. He’d always been strikingly handsome, and the extra years had stripped away the last of the boy and shaped the man. He had the same athletic physique, but his shoulders were wider, his body stronger and more powerful.
Once, she’d believed that maybe happy endings really weren’t just for books and movies. Her feelings for him had filled her until there was no room for anything else, until she hadn’t known how to contain them. Fortunately all those years with her father had provided advanced training in how to hide them, which was just as well because Seth looked insanely good and she looked—
She didn’t want to think how she looked.
It was definitely karma. Punishment for her past sins, which were too many to count.
She was trapped by that gaze, and her brain and her tongue knotted at the same time. So she did what she always did when she found herself in a tight corner. She acted on impulse.
“I’m not Fliss,” she said. “I’m Harriet.”
HARRIET.
Until she’d said that, he’d been about to kiss her. Right there on the road and to hell with anyone who happened to be passing. The knowledge unsettled him. Fliss had always brought out a side of him he rarely accessed, and it seemed not much had changed.
Except that this was Harriet, not Fliss. And kissing her would have brought on more than mutual embarrassment. His objective had been to douse old flames, not rekindle fires.
Vanessa was right. He was in trouble.
He stepped back, almost treading on Lulu. The dog yelped and jumped out of the way, sending him a reproachful look. Her day wasn’t going well. His wasn’t much better.
“I didn’t expect to see you here.” There was a time when the Knight twins had spent every summer with their grandmother, but that time was long past. Most of the group of kids who had hung out together during those long hot summers had gone their separate ways. The only friend he still saw from those days was Chase Adams, who had taken over the running of his father’s construction company based in Manhattan. Since his marriage, he’d been spending more time at his beach house.
“Didn’t expect to see you either.” She pulled the brim of her hat down, virtually concealing the top half of her face. “I heard you were in Manhattan. Daniel mentioned that he ran into you—” Her tone was casual, but there was something else there that he couldn’t identify. Nerves? Since when had he made Harriet nervous?
“That was temporary. I was doing a favor for a friend of mine.”
“Steven?”
“Yes. We were at college together. He was shorthanded and he asked me to help out.”
“So that’s it? You’re done? No more Manhattan?”
“For now.” He wondered why she was asking so many detailed questions about his whereabouts. Maybe Fliss was thinking of visiting her grandmother and her twin was going to deliver a warning. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that she was avoiding him.
“So you’re here for the rest of the summer? Staying with your family?”
“Just me.” How much did she know? They’d had no contact since that summer ten years before, but these days there were a myriad ways to find out information. Did Fliss ever talk about him? He had a million questions, but he reined them in. What was the point in asking them? He didn’t need answers from Harriet. He needed them from Fliss. “And you? What are you doing here?” It was unsettling looking at her because she could so easily have been Fliss. Outwardly the twins were identical. Same blue eyes, same buttermilk-blond hair.
Inwardly they were as different as the sun and the moon.
“Grams fell. She’s in the hospital.”
“I hadn’t heard.” And that surprised him because wherever he went on this patch of land someone, somewhere, was always keen to fill him in on local gossip. “How bad is it? When did it happen?”
“A couple of days ago. I’m not sure how bad it is, but they won’t let her go home unless someone is there with her. She was knocked unconscious, I believe, and she says she’s a little bruised. I’m off to the hospital as soon as I’ve unpacked.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, but thanks. I’ll be picking her up tomorrow.” She gestured vaguely to the car, a showy red convertible that gleamed in the sunshine.
He glanced at it, thinking that it didn’t seem like something Harriet would drive. On the other hand it had been ten years and a lot changed in ten years, including the fact that she no longer seemed to be shy with him. There was no sign of the stammer that had plagued her teenage years. Fliss had confided in him how difficult it was for her sister, how the moment their father had started shouting, Harriet had been unable to push a single word out of her mouth.
For her sake he was pleased that had changed.
It was partly because he didn’t want to be the one to bring her stammer back that he didn’t question her about Fliss.
“How did she fall?”
“In the garden. It needs work.”
“So you’re here to take care of her. That’s lucky for her. She doesn’t need to worry about being well fed.” He smiled at her. “I still remember those chocolate chip cookies you used to make. If you ever have any spare that need eating, I’m right next door.”
“Cookies?” A look of alarm flickered across her face, and he wondered what he’d said to trigger that reaction.
“You don’t cook anymore?”
“I—yes, of course I cook. But proper food.” She stumbled.
