sign. At least at first. Admittedly, he was a dream to look at, his body big and hard with muscles, his dark eyes always squinting as if he were staring into sunlight, his lips curling into absent smiles as if to say he’d seen it all and nothing surprised him. Not exactly the kind of man who dated women slated to be old maids.
But what was wrong with being single, anyway? Marley suddenly fumed. Throughout history, countless women traversed the years when, as Florence Nightingale had put it, “forever turned into never.” The Bennings were hardly the first. Many “bachelor girls” wound up happier, able to concentrate on their own life goals. Which was what Marley intended to do….
When she, Edie and Bridget had met Cash last month in an East Village comedy club, Marley had reacted on a purely physical level, of course. In fact, when he’d sent a round of drinks, then headed toward their group, she’d been sure her smile had lured him. Just as she was kicking herself for flirting accidently, the low, sexy rumble of his voice had helped bring her to her senses, reminding her of her divorce, and everything that she’d gone through in the past year.
Luckily, the following morning, she’d scheduled a workout with a TV executive who could refer more clients, so she’d been unable to stay at the club and seduce Cash. She did remain long enough to realize he’d never even heard of the feminist stand-up act—a local talent. He’d seemed out of place, too, a lone man surrounded by a female audience enjoying jokes about hair loss, penis size and men’s bizarre relationships with their electronic equipment.
Because the dingy pub—an old speakeasy sandwiched between buildings on Avenue A—would have been impossible for a tourist to find, Marley couldn’t figure out how Cash had come to be there, especially since he’d had no interest in comedy or the performer, and he knew no one. He wasn’t drinking alcohol, either, only club soda, which seemed odd, since he’d said he’d gotten his start as a bartender, then worked his way up to owning his own clubs, and Marley had never met a teetotaling bartender.
He’d chuckled at appropriate places, but his eyes had remained veiled, maybe even calculating, and Marley had gotten the impression he was deciding which sister he’d like to know, rather than letting events take their natural course. For some reason, she’d found herself imagining a scenario in which he’d followed them to the club, intending to pick up one of them….
Surely, she was wrong. And yet she’d wound up concluding that something was up his sleeve. Edie would say that was only because Marley’s breakup with Chris had scarred her emotionally. Now she thought back, trying to remember if she’d seen Cash before their meeting in the pub. Had he been in a deli? A café? No matter how often she’d replayed that night, picturing herself and her sisters meeting at their parents’ apartment, walking to Seventh Avenue and catching a cab to the East Side, she couldn’t remember seeing him on the street….
Cash had quickly passed on Marley as a prospect, though. She did remember that clearly. When she’d said she was leaving, he’d turned his attention to Bridget, who was the most obvious of the sisters, the one men always looked at first. Her outfits were flashier and her voice louder, probably because she’d felt left out when they were kids, overshadowed by twin sisters who had—at least back then—been inseparable. But Bridget had been talking to a friend on her cell, which meant Cash’s attention had shifted once more, this time to Edie, who was clearly wowed by his looks.
That was when Marley had left. Now, all she knew was what she’d gleaned from her tight-lipped sister who hadn’t divulged much except that Cash was a lousy kisser. Given his devil’s grin, dripping dark locks and swaggering walk, Marley had figured him for a ladies’ man, the kind of guy who’d know how to make a woman feel like a woman.
“TMI!” Marley had protested when Edie had divulged the gossip about the kisses. “Too much information!”
“I know I should quit seeing him. There’s just no chemistry. But he’s so good-looking that I keep hoping…” Edie had paused. “Is being a bad kisser really a fatal flaw?”
“Yes!” exclaimed both Bridget and Marley in unison, and then Bridget had added, “but guys who look like that always get plenty of practice, so I just don’t get it.”
Marley had hesitated, unwilling to state the obvious, since it might spoil their good moods, but she had felt compelled to say, “The wedding curse. That must be it. Maybe he’s a great kisser, just not when he kisses one of us. Uh, you know, a Benning.”
Edie had groaned. “Don’t start with that again.”
“Marley does have a point,” Bridget had said, her blue eyes growing distant as if she were staring at a far-off partner whom she’d never really meet, face-to-face.
Now Marley winced at Edie’s watch as she pushed through a revolving door at NBC. Fifteen minutes until six, she thought. It was later than she’d imagined, almost the time Edie had been told to arrive at the studio. At least the timing ensured Cash would be here already.
But where? In the lobby, a line of people was preparing to be led upstairs, and judging from the signs they carried, they were the studio audience for Rate the Dates. Slipping past them, Marley headed for an open elevator, following directions Edie had given. When she reached an attendant wearing green slacks and a matching blazer, she announced herself, saying, “Edie Benning,” and then she watched in relief as the woman crossed her off a guest list.
“I’ll phone upstairs and tell them you’re finally here,” the woman said.
Finally? Marley thought a moment later as the elevator car ascended. The woman had made it sound as if Marley were late, but hadn’t Edie said to be here by six, since the show started at seven? Suddenly, Marley wished she’d asked for more information. Had Cash possibly changed his mind, anyway? After all, Edie had said alternates were always ready to go on, which meant last-minute cancellation wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Besides, Cash had been reticent about going on the air, anyway.
But what if he tried to strong-arm her into appearing for some reason? In that case, should she tell him she wasn’t Edie? Marley felt a sudden stab of panic. Should she have come earlier? Had Edie gotten her facts wrong? Swallowing with difficulty, since her mouth was still bone dry, Marley felt a rush of pique at Cash Champagne. As far as she was concerned, all this aggravation was his fault. If he’d answered his cell phone, Edie could have canceled herself. Men were all alike, Marley thought. So many never grew up, living long into adulthood at the center of their own little worlds….
Edie had been trying to call Cash all day, but he’d hardly cared that his unavailability might affect her, much less Marley who was now tracking him down. As soon as she’d spoken with Edie, Marley had meant to head straight to Cash’s supposed work site—a new Upper West Side club called the Plantation House, a fancy restaurant-bar he’d said he was opening with an old friend—but then she’d decided to disguise herself as Edie. She just wanted the opportunity to size him up at length, to make sure Edie wasn’t making a mistake by dating him.
Dressing had taken longer than anticipated. She and Edie had been born identical, but they’d evolved different tastes and lifestyles that, today, made them look more like sisters than twins. Because Marley had a slightly heavier, more muscular body from working out, not all Edie’s clothes fit, and even after she’d dressed, shoes remained a problem since Edie’s closet was organized with boxes bearing coded labels only she could understand. As far as Marley was concerned, you’d need a cryptanalyst from the CIA to decipher Edie’s closet. Just as Marley had found shoes, she’d realized she needed to clip her bangs if she was going to look like Edie….
In the end, the disguise was perfect. Unfortunately, that meant Edie’s neighbors had stopped Marley, wanting to
