After Nash left, Ryanne sagged back against the wall. An unexpected rage had overcome her when she’d found out Nash and Rylee shared a kiss—more than one, according to him. That fury nearly set her hair on fire. Yet, the one thing she could and did believe was her sister’s underhanded measures to get to Nash. It fit with Rylee’s initial desperation to meet him. The question was why?
Now, with Nash gone, Ryanne could think clearly. It wasn’t something she could do when he was close. This new sexual awareness between them had her too flustered to know up from down.
The idea of being party to kidnapping her sister and the subsequent identity swap disturbed her on every level. Although she and Rylee had shared a womb and still share an identical face, they were as different as night and day. Where Ryanne was staid and dependable, Rylee was impulsive and wild. Could she even hope to pull off a deception of that magnitude with someone who knew her sister as well as a lover? From all accounts, Victor Salinger wasn’t someone to be trifled with.
What did it say about Nash’s feelings for her if he was willing to throw her into the lion’s den? Either he had a massive amount of confidence in her, or he was willing to sacrifice her to get what he wanted. Unfortunately, both scenarios could apply. Nash was difficult to read. Ryanne’s one saving grace was that she was a damned good administrative assistant and Nash loved his routine. He might balk at having to replace her. Hadn’t he doubled her salary today?
As she studied the journal he’d left behind, the air crackled around her, and she froze in place. Through what could only be considered a rift in space, Alastair Thorne stepped into her living room.
“Close your mouth, dear girl. We don’t have much time.”
She shut her mouth, but she couldn’t do much about her stunned amazement.
“Listen carefully. Your sister is about to arrive. She’s walking through the door of your building as we speak.”
“Rylee?”
One of his arrogant brows shot skyward. “You have more than one sister?”
“For the love of all that is holy! You and Nash really are two peas in a pod, aren’t you?”
His lips twitched, but otherwise, he didn’t acknowledge her sarcastic comment. “Rylee has either tapped your place, or she was spying on you through a scrying mirror.”
“That would mean she has access to magic.”
“Precisely. But either way, she’s out to cause trouble. I suggest you—”
A knock sounded on her front door. “Ryanne?”
“What should I do?” Ryanne asked him scarcely above a whisper.
“Why, answer the door, of course.”
His wicked smile unnerved her. This man was far more dangerous than Nash on any given day.
As she walked toward the door, he waved a hand. When she looked over her shoulder, her jaw dropped to see the man she’d been kissing earlier that day. “Nash? No, wait. You…” What was it that Nash had said about a light? Hers was different than her sister’s? How had she not noticed Alastair’s light until she’d put a little distance between them?
“It’s okay, child. Open the door, but make sure you play along with whatever I say,” he ordered quietly.
Ryanne opened the door and prayed her face wasn’t a dead giveaway to the craziness happening in her apartment. Why Alastair felt the need to pose as Nash was beyond her, but when Nash finally showed up, it was going to be interesting.
“Leelee. What are you doing here?”
She noticed her sister’s dark gaze zero in on Alastair. The expression on Rylee’s face was nothing short of cunningly satisfied, and it sent a chill down Ryanne’s spine. What the hell was her sister up to this time?
“Why, Nash Thorne, as I live and breathe,” Rylee purred.
Even knowing Alastair was pretending to be Nash, Ryanne experienced a swift flash of jealousy unlike anything she’d ever known. What Rylee wanted, Rylee got—or at least she did ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time. Her intent to add Nash to her string of men was obvious.
“What do you want, Rylee?” Ryanne ground out, this time forgoing the nickname.
Rylee’s head whipped back around, and her mouth dropped open. Their entire lives, Ryanne had called her sister “Leelee” as part of their twin speak. But at the moment, any affection Ryanne held for her sister was sorely strained by her shenanigans.
Alastair shifted forward and dropped a casual arm across Ryanne’s shoulders. “Rylee, we weren’t expecting you.”
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to do a double take. Alastair not only looked like Nash, he acted and sounded exactly like him, too. In a show of solidarity, she clasped his dangling hand, entwining their fingers. He gave her a subtle squeeze, and she assumed it was encouragement.
Rylee’s gaze sharpened on Alastair before she smiled. “Do I need an excuse to pop in to see my sister?”
“Advance notice would be nice.” His tone was brisk. “Ryanne and I were about to get busy.”
Ryanne choked. Hearing the great Alastair Thorne try to be hip nearly did her in. If he pounded her a little too hard on the back, she probably deserved it for ruining his game.
“Sorry,” she finally managed. “I swallowed my own spit.”
“Drooling over the image of a naked Nash, I’m sure.” Although Rylee thought she was being funny, her humor fell flat. “I’ve pictured him that way myself.”
The green-eyed monster woke within Ryanne. The tips of her fingers started to burn, and when she looked down, she was horrified to see a flame spark to life from her fingertips.
Alastair leaned in close to murmur, “Pull it back.” Pretending affection, he placed a light kiss on her temple. In a louder voice, he said, “It’s rumored that you and Victor Salinger are an item.”
A flash of some unnamed emotion came and went on Rylee’s face. “Victor doesn’t mind if I stray as long as I return to him.”
“Enough!” Ryanne snapped. “You and Nash will not now, nor ever… ever…” She couldn’t form the thought of them together, much less say it. She settled on a warning glare for Rylee. “Ever.”
Wicked delight lit Rylee’s coffee-colored eyes. “Oh, Ryanne, you’re jealous! If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were in love.”
“Know better?” Alastair asked.
Because Rylee anticipated his question—and why wouldn’t she, she’d set him up nicely for it—her smile widened. “My dear sister has never had more than a passing fling. Perhaps it was the loss of our beloved parents, or our sweet but starchy, adoptive parents, but Ryanne refuses to give her heart to anyone. Isn’t that so, sister dear?”
Was it true? Had she refused to love another? Ryanne suspected her sister was correct. Black dots gathered behind Ryanne’s eyelids, and she began to hyperventilate. In the blink of an eye, Alastair scooped her up and strode to the sofa. He placed her gently on the cool leather cushion and conjured a glass of water.
Rylee’s gasp wasn’t feigned.
He chose to ignore her and pressed the glass into Ryanne’s hand. “Drink.” When he seemed satisfied she wasn’t going to pass out on him, he faced her sister. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about magic, Rylee. I’ve seen you in action.”
With a wary look, Rylee sank into the armchair across from them. She opened her mouth to speak when the front door opened.
“Hey, babe, I got… what the fuck? Achoo!”
Faster than the speed of lightning, Alastair fisted his hand. A simple snap of his long, elegant fingers restored him to his natural visage. “Hello, son.”