The Brother's Wife. Amanda Stevens
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as fast as she could, before she had time to remember.
But it was too late, because when Jake turned back around he saw her. Their gazes held for the longest moment, and it flashed through Hope’s mind that here was a man she had once been engaged to. A man she had once hurt very deeply. A man who despised the path she had chosen for her life.
As if reading her mind, Jake studied her for a moment, taking in the designer dress she wore, the gleam of gold at her wrist and throat, and then wordlessly he turned his back on her and resumed his work.
Hope felt as if he’d slapped her. A part of her wanted to hate him for it even as another part of her realized she probably deserved it. The last time she and Jake had met face-to-face was when he’d come to question her after Andrew’s death.
In the throes of guilt for the terrible things she’d said to her husband on the night he died, Hope had lashed out at Jake, accusing him of trying to exact revenge on a dead man. But in the weeks and months that followed, Hope had come to realize that Jake had been right. Her husband had been a man of secrets. Dark and deadly secrets.
And now another man claiming to be Andrew’s twin brother, a man who seemed to have secrets of his own, had come back into their lives just when Hope thought she might be able to put the past behind her. Now she wondered if she would ever be able to do that.
“Mr. McClain?”
Jake’s father glanced up and smiled. “Miss Hope. What brings you down here?”
Was it Hope’s imagination, or had he cast a furtive glance toward his son?
Jake didn’t look up from his work, but Hope saw his expression darken at the way his father had addressed her. At one time, Gerald McClain had almost been her father-in-law, and now here he was, addressing her as though she were the mistress of the manor.
Hope had never felt as uncomfortable with her position in the Kingsley household as she did at that moment. She’d never felt as if she belonged here, amid all this wealth and grandeur, but now she realized she didn’t belong in her old world, either.
Where, exactly, did she belong?
Jake stopped what he was doing and glared at her. “Well? Was there something you wanted, Hope?”
There wasn’t the slightest bit of subservience in his tone. In fact, the way he said her name was almost an insult.
Hope lifted her chin. “I came to have a word with your father.”
Gerald removed his gloves and slipped them in his back pocket. “What can I do for you?”
“Mrs. Kingsley would like to see you. Something about the rock garden. I’m afraid she may have changed her mind,” Hope added apologetically.
Gerald’s face showed not the slightest bit of anger or resentment over the news. Instead he said to Jake, “Just keep working. We’ll have to remove everything and start over anyway.”
Hope lingered for a moment, unsure whether or not she should strive for a note of civility before she left. Jake glanced up, looking as if he wanted to say something to her, but changed his mind with a shrug. He nodded in the direction of the terrace. “Looks like you have company.”
Hope glanced over her shoulder. Michael Eldridge, wearing dark glasses and an Italian-designer suit, stood on the terrace, staring at the gardens. When he saw Hope, he lifted his hand and waved.
Hope waved back, but she found that she was shivering in the warm April sunlight. She turned back to Jake. “I guess I’d better get back.”
“Yeah.” Something dark flashed in Jake’s eyes. “Looks like he’s waiting for you.”
* * *
WHEN HOPE RETURNED to the house, Iris announced that the two of them would accompany Michael to a private clinic where Victor Northrup had already made arrangements for a sample of his blood to be taken and sent to Dr. Henry Wu, a leading forensics expert in Boston. Two samples of Andrew’s blood, one provided by his private physician and the other by the Shepherd police, would be sent separately.
Dr. Wu had been the one to discover that the remains in Adam Kingsley’s grave were not Adam’s, so it seemed fitting that he be the one to perform the DNA tests now on the man who might be the real Adam.
All the way to the clinic, Hope noticed that Iris never took her eyes off Michael. It was as if the man’s face had mesmerized her, and no wonder. In spite of her uneasiness about him, Hope found herself fascinated by the man as well. His resemblance to Andrew was uncanny, but it wasn’t just his physical appearance that intrigued Hope. His mannerisms, the way he smiled, the way he looked at her were all reminiscent of her dead husband. Too reminiscent. Could brothers, even identical twins, who had been raised apart grow up to be so very much alike?
The only difference Hope had been able to discern so far was a scar at Michael’s left temple. She gazed at that scar on the way to the clinic, wondering how he’d gotten it.
A blond receptionist looked up from her work as they entered the lobby of the clinic. The woman was strikingly beautiful with the pale, flawless skin of a Scandinavian ancestor and eyes as blue as the icy North Sea. She smiled at them, but her eyes remained cool and appraising as she waved them toward the waiting room.
In a few moments, a nurse came out and ushered Michael into an examination room, where his blood would be drawn, labeled, and sent to Dr. Wu. Every possible precaution would be taken, they were assured, to prevent any kind of contamination that might compromise the tests.
While they waited, Iris busied herself making calls on her cellular phone, and Hope flipped through a magazine. Once she looked up to find the receptionist gazing at her intently.
Instead of glancing away, as most people would do when caught staring, the blonde continued to gaze at her until Hope was the one who looked away. When she glanced up again, the woman had gone back to her work, but the incident left Hope mystified. It was almost as if the woman knew her from somewhere, but Hope didn’t think that was possible. The blonde’s features were very distinct, not the kind even another woman would forget.
In a few moments, Michael came out of the examination room, rolling down the sleeve of his shirt and fastening the cuff. The doctor followed, assuring them the sample would be sent to Dr. Wu promptly, and that they should have the results in a few weeks.
“Well,” Michael said, slipping into his jacket. “I guess all we can do now is wait.”
Iris smiled as she allowed him to help her to her feet. “We can do more than that,” she said. “We can all three go somewhere and have lunch. It’ll be a celebration.”
“What are we celebrating?” Michael asked indulgently, tucking her arm through his.
Iris’s face looked radiant as she gazed up at him. “That you’ve come back home to us. That we can all be a family again. Isn’t that so, Hope?”
Hope nodded, unable to speak. A tremor of dread coursed through her. Somehow this man who looked so much like her dead husband had already insinuated himself into their lives.
And from the proprietary look in his dark blue eyes as he gazed first at Iris and then at Hope, he was going to do everything in his power to keep it that way.
* * *
THAT AFTERNOON, while his father made plans for the new rock garden—a task Jake decided wouldn’t unduly stress him—Jake went back to the groundskeeper’s cottage on the edge of the Kingsley estate to shower and change into clean jeans and a white cotton shirt before heading into town to check in at his new office.
The building was near the airport, in an area heavily populated by convenience stores, nightclubs and strip joints—a location that was hardly conducive to attracting the big corporate accounts Jake was interested in, but all he could afford at the moment.
A receptionist in the lobby answered phones for most of the small offices in the building, and as Jake approached