Twice Kissed. Lisa JacksonЧитать онлайн книгу.
“You planning on staying?” she asked, suddenly nervous as she filled the coffee carafe with water.
“For a while.” As if he’d lived here all his life, he tossed his jacket over the screen.
Maggie was instantly wary, her muscles tense. She glanced at him over her shoulder and sloshed some of the water onto the counter. Damn. The man made her so jittery, it was ludicrous. “How long is ‘a while?’”
His eyes glinted, and a corner of his mouth lifted. “Don’t worry, Maggie, your virtue is safe with me.”
She gasped, nearly sputtered out some kind of lame reply, and bit her tongue until she had control of it. “Still the same charmer you always were, aren’t you, Thane?” she mocked, snapping on the coffeemaker, then swiping up the spill with a sponge.
“I try.” His smile widened into a familiar sexy grin that she wanted to slap off his face. The same cocky, self-assured expression that had won as many hearts as it had broken.
“Well, it won’t work on me.”
“No?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting as if he sensed a dare.
“No.” She was firm.
“Good. That’ll make things easier.” His gaze swept the mantel, lingered for a while on the photos of Becca growing up, of the framed picture of the two sisters back to back, then stopped short on the only wedding picture that Maggie displayed, one of her and Dean, smiling happily at each other, she in her ivory-colored dress, her veil falling off, her fingers around the nosegay of baby’s breath and pink roses, Dean’s tuxedo tie loosened, his eyes full of life—a spark that had extinguished early on.
Without comment, Thane took a seat in a worn wing-backed chair and propped one heel on the ottoman as the coffee began to perk.
“Easier? How?”
His smile slowly disappeared and he stared at her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. She wrung the sponge over the sink as he said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Shoot.” She was ready to say “no,” to deny him anything he might want from her, because she knew deep in her soul he wasn’t a man to be trusted, wasn’t a person she wanted anything to do with. “What is it?”
“I want you to drive back to Denver with me.” Eyes never leaving hers, he nodded slowly. “I think I might need you as a character witness.”
If he hadn’t been so deadly earnest, she would have laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” she said. “Me? A character witness for you?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
In an instant she believed him. The expression on his face was determined: his jaw set, his eyes steady, his lips blade-thin and unforgiving. Not a hint of the man who had joked just a few seconds before.
“I don’t think I owe you anything,” she said slowly, folding the cloth, eyeing the pan of cold, burned stew, and ignoring it. She wasn’t hungry, hadn’t been since Thane had walked back into her life.
“This isn’t a matter of payback.”
“Then why?” She walked into the living room and took a seat on the arm of the sofa.
“You know I would never lift a finger to hurt Mary Theresa.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. Oh, how she knew it was true. From the minute Thane had set eyes on her more seductive twin, he’d been smitten. She suspected that Thane had never stopped loving Mary Theresa. He’d only stopped loving Maggie. “Of course.”
“The police don’t know it.”
In an instant, she understood. “You mean, not only do the police suspect foul play in Mary Theresa’s disappearance, but they think you’re involved.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
It was Thane. He did this to me. Mary Theresa’s cryptic message crept through her brain again, chilling her blood, causing her stomach to cramp.
“I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t have to,” he said, and she knew he meant it.
“I just can’t up and leave,” she began, then heard herself. This was her sister they were talking about. Her twin sister. The person most like her on this earth. And she was in trouble. “There’s Becca to consider and…” She let her thoughts trail off. What if Mary Theresa needed her? The coffeemaker dinged, and she returned to the open kitchen to pour two cups with hands that weren’t quite steady. “I…I don’t know,” she admitted, carrying the mugs of steaming coffee into the living room and handing one out to him. “There’s sugar or milk in the kitchen…”
“I take it black. Thanks.”
She remembered. Not that she wanted to. Not ever. She settled into a corner of the couch, tucked her feet onto the cushions, and blew across her cup. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” she suggested. Maybe if she heard what he had on his mind, she would better understand the situation.
“I don’t know what happened to Mary Theresa or Marquise or whoever you want to call her,” he admitted. “No one seems to. Some people think she was kidnapped; there’s even talk of murder, you know that.”
Maggie nodded mutely.
“Then there are those who think this is some kind of publicity stunt, or that she just left because the pressure was so great, and she needed some peace of mind.” He took a swallow from his cup, studied the dark liquid inside, and frowned. “I’m not sure I believe that one, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because whenever the rat race got too much for her, the ratings were down on her show, her latest lover had taken a hike, or she needed to get away from the high-profile life she was living, she’d show up at my ranch.”
“Your ranch?” Maggie repeated, dumbstruck. She’d thought that Mary Theresa hadn’t seen Thane since their divorce. Never had her sister confided that she’d spent time with her ex-husband.
“Sometimes the ranch in California, other times the one outside of Cheyenne.” Setting his cup on the window ledge, he leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees. “Sometimes I was there, but a lot of times I wasn’t.”
“I…I never knew that she even saw you,” Maggie said, realizing for the first time how little she understood about the woman who was her twin. It was almost as if when Mary Theresa had changed her name to Marquise, she’d severed ties with her family.
His eyes were steady. As cold as the Arctic Ocean. “There are lots of things you don’t know about your sister, Maggie. Lots of things you’d rather not know.” He stood and looked out the window to stare into the night. His reflection, distorted in the cold panes, was pale and shimmering with a steady determination. She knew from experience that Thane Walker was as stubborn as he was sexy.
The phone jangled and Maggie jumped, nearly spilling coffee all over her lap. By the second ring she grabbed the receiver and felt her heart thudding a million miles a minute. Maybe Mary Theresa had finally gotten her messages. “Hello?”
“Maggie? It’s Connie.”
Maggie’s soaring spirits crashed. She recognized her sister-in-law’s voice and steeled herself for more bad news.
“Hi.”
“I know you’re wondering why I’m calling so late, so I’ll get right to the point. I heard that Marquise is missing. I have a friend who lives in Denver who knows we’re related. Well, sort of. Anyway, I…I know this is awkward, but I wanted to call and see if you and Becca are all right.”
As if you cared. “We’re fine,” Maggie lied.
“Well, good. Good. I, um, wanted to offer to help out. Oh, I know we’ve had our differences in the past,