averted her gaze.
“Tabitha,” the man said, stopping in front of her. “Tabitha Livingstone.”
Nicole whipped her gaze up to meet his, stunned that he would know her sister’s name. “I’m not—”
“Don’t try to fool me,” he said. “You and I knew each other very well.”
Nicole took a short breath, caught between disappointment and trepidation. Being mistaken for her twin had happened to her too many times to count, but not since her sister had died. The problem was that Nicole was never sure exactly how Tabitha had treated the person confronting her. Since her sister had died a few years ago, hearing the mistake came as a shock.
“My name is Nicole Livingstone. I’m Tabitha’s twin.”
She watched the man digest the news. Disbelief, then confusion crossed his face. “She never told me about a twin.”
Nicole’s uneasy laugh stuck in her throat. “She liked to keep it a surprise, so if she ever needed to refer to her evil twin…”
“Hmm,” he said, his brow furrowing. He rubbed his chin. “Where is she?”
Nicole bit her lip. A stab of pain took her by surprise. Just when she thought she’d adjusted to the loss of her sister, she found out she hadn’t. “She died three years ago.”
His eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t know.”
She nodded. “She got a terrible infection and the doctors couldn’t help her. People thought she was so headstrong that she could survive anything. It was a huge shock to us.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, but she saw a hardness in his eyes. He extended his hand to her.
She took it and was immediately struck by his warmth and strength. His hand felt good around hers. “Thank you. And you are?”
“Rafe,” he said. “Rafe Medici.”
The world seemed to tilt sideways. Her heart hammered in her chest as if someone had set off a fire alarm inside her. It took a moment for her to remove her hand from his.
She needed to get away from him. As fast as she possibly could. She took a deep breath and stepped backward. “Thank you again. Good-bye.”
She started to walk around him, but he brushed her arm with his hand. Biting the inside of her lip, she paused and looked at the space between his eyes instead of meeting his gaze.
“In the newspaper, I saw a photograph of you with a child. Was he Tabitha’s?”
“He’s mine,” she said, feeling her blood rush to her head. “Joel is mine.”
“Did Tabitha have a child before she died?”
“Joel is mine. I need to go,” she said and walked down the sidewalk to her Camry Hybrid parked in the lot. Her heart pounding a mile a minute, she unlocked the door and slid inside. She started to close the door, but Rafe Medici appeared beside her and caught it.
“Mr. Medici,” she said, terror whipping through her.
“My father died when I was very young. It was a terrible loss. I would not want that for a son of mine.”
The humanity in the man’s expression caught her off guard. Her sister had described him as possessing a monster ego. Nicole shot a look at the large hand that prevented her departure. “Please step away from my vehicle. I need to leave,” she managed in a voice she’d developed to freeze out arguments with uncooperative healthcare agencies.
She felt his assessing gaze as he slowly moved his hand. Not easily intimidated. Why should she be surprised? He stood over a half foot taller than her and with those wide shoulders and well-developed muscles she’d glimpsed as his jacket swung open, he could probably bench press three of her.
“Later,” he said.
Nicole pulled her door shut and peeled out of the parking lot. Later. She certainly hoped not.
Now that Joel was ready to turn four, she’d thought they were in the clear. After all, there’d been no sign of Rafe Medici at her sister’s funeral. No flowers. Nothing. Droplets of cold sweat forming on her skin, she exited on to the interstate, her mind whirling.
Nicole maintained a low profile. It had been easy for her. Tabitha had been the flashy one, and that had been fine with Nicole. Now, after all this time, she’d taken Joel to meet one of her patient clients to see his dinosaur model collection. A reporter writing stories about disabled veterans had surprised them and captured the three of them in a photograph, which had been published in the newspaper. Of all the dumb luck.
Clenching her fingers over the steering wheel, she wondered if she should take Joel and leave immediately. He was a shy little guy, though, and seemed to be flourishing in his pre-school class.
She remembered the look of determination on Rafe’s face and shuddered. She considered her options. Her mother lived on the other side of the world—France, in fact. Nicole and Joel could disappear there, at least for a while. Her mother, however, led an active social life and having a preschooler around would cramp her style.
Tabitha would have turned to their father and performed a butter-him-up act worthy of an Oscar in order to get money from him. Nicole limited her involvement with her father as much as possible. After what he had done…
She took a deep breath to calm herself. She’d always been told she was the practical twin. Something would come to her. No matter what, she would protect Joel at all costs.
She was lying, Rafe thought as he watched her tear out of the parking lot. He felt a tingling sensation in his left hand that had served as a warning throughout his life. The woman would be trouble. Perhaps more trouble than Tabitha had been. If that were possible.
Tabitha had acted as if she’d enjoyed living with him, but soon enough he’d learned that all she wanted from him was his money. To this day, he didn’t understand her greed. After all, her father was very wealthy. He remembered the way she’d begged him to let her sell a few of his yachts. He’d indulged her, secretly enjoying the fact that he was one-upping the mighty Conrad Livingstone via the man’s daughter. The joke had backfired, though. She’d lied to him in order to pad her commission then tried to seduce one of his customers, a Spanish prince. Unsuccessfully.
Narrowing his eyes as the wind whipped around him, he walked toward his rental car. It shouldn’t be difficult to find out the truth about Tabitha, Nicole and Joel.
Sliding into the car, he started the engine then dialed his brother.
“Hey, Rafe. What’s up?” his brother Michael asked.
“I need the name of a good P.I. who is thorough, fast and discreet,” he said.
“Okay. This wouldn’t have anything to do with your bad mood last night, would it?”
“Maybe,” Rafe said.
“Does this mean you’ll be staying an extra night at my place?”
“Yeah,
