Body Double (12 page)

On the drive, she and Blake made small talk about where they grew up, their family life, and what had brought them to the Bay Area. She found him to be friendly and open, a good conversationalist, which surprised her. Most of her life, she’d envisioned rich people’s social lives consisting mostly of mingling at huge parties, making superficial and trite conversation, but Blake seemed sincerely interested in her. He asked questions and volunteered information about his own life. He’d grown up attending middle-class public schools playing football, rather than in exclusive private schools playing polo as she’d assumed. After high school, he enlisted in the Army and then went to college at San Jose State, majoring in athletic training and business administration. After earning a Master’s degree in athletic training and sports medicine at Penn State, he returned to California to open his first personal training facility. Andrea found him interesting and intelligent, with an easy-going nature. His interest in athletic training was apparent in his well-developed physique, and his posture and the square set of his shoulders made him look statuesque. He looked fit and strong without being grotesquely over-muscled.

The contact lenses were waiting when they arrived at the eye clinic, the extended-wear kind she preferred. Seated at a counter with a mirror and a bottle of saline solution, Andrea swapped her own clear lenses with the tinted ones. They looked greener than how she remembered Sarah’s eyes, and she worried that people close to Sarah would definitely notice. After paying for the lenses with Sarah’s debit card, she joined Blake in the waiting room.

He nodded his approval with a satisfied grin. “I prefer your blue eyes, but you definitely look more like Sarah now.”

“You don’t think they’re too green?”

“If you’d had these on yesterday, I probably wouldn’t have made you. All you’re missing is a little beauty mark on your jaw and my engagement ring on your finger.”

“Oh, I forgot.” Andrea unzipped a secret pouch in her purse and withdrew the ring. The diamond was huge—the largest she’d ever seen in person—and amazingly clear and brilliant. She was hesitant to wear it, for fear someone would mug her and take it. “I meant to put it on when I was getting dressed.”

He opened his hand. “May I?” Her face warmed, but she gave it to him. He took her left hand in his. Looking deeply into her eyes, he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit like it’d been made for her. “I hope this doesn’t come off again.”

Andrea felt a thrill zing through her body. For a moment, she let herself pretend... no. She couldn’t think such things. He was Sarah’s fiancé. “Not until I give it back.”

A scowl darkened his face.

“To Sarah,” Andrea said quickly. “Not until I have to give it back to Sarah.”

Without another word, he took her by the hand, and they headed back to the waiting limo. Andrea chewed her bottom lip, hoping she hadn’t upset the mood between them by reminding him about Sarah’s plans to divorce him.

Conversation lightened once more as they rode next to the country club where the wedding was to be held. There they met Scotty, the wedding planner, a flamboyant, heavy-set man with bleached blond hair and thick, dark-brown eyebrows. He couldn’t stand still, gesturing wildly while he spoke in a staccato, reading from a list on his tablet and firing off bullet points so fast, Andrea had trouble following. She hoped it would all come together the way Sarah had envisioned it, because Andrea had no idea what that vision was.

“Can you think of anything I haven’t covered?” Scotty asked.

“The ride from here to the reception,” Blake said.

“One moment.” Scotty tapped and swiped his screen a few times. “Yes, that’s all set. We’ll have four white horses drawing a white carriage, also decorated with irises, which will be waiting by the curb there. It’ll take you to the Regency Grand Hotel, where you’ll change into your reception attire. Meanwhile, your wedding guests will be shuttled to the reception hall to await your arrival. The carriage will whisk you both back to the reception hall. You’ll celebrate with your guests, of which we’re expecting five hundred. Is that right?”

Five hundred?
Andrea swallowed thickly. This was really happening. She was going to have to face not only the dreaded altar, but all Sarah’s family, friends, and acquaintances. Surely someone would realize she wasn’t Sarah. Someone would call her out in front of everyone. The room would go quiet as five hundred strangers stared at her and whispered to each other about the imposter trying to step into Sarah’s life and steal Sarah’s husband. Andrea found herself squeezing the hell out of Blake’s hand.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Are you all right, Sarah?”

She flinched at being called Sarah but then nodded. “Fine.” Then she remembered the Southern accent. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine,” she said again, this time saying it like Sarah did:
fahn
.

“Shall I have your dresses picked up and delivered to the hotel?” Scotty asked.

“No, I can manage.”

“Let’s go ahead and have Scotty take care of that,” Blake said. “You’ll have enough on your mind without having to worry about getting them wrinkled or caught in a door somewhere.”

Andrea nodded numbly. He was right, and she was thankful he was looking out for her.

Their next stop was to the tailor who was making Sarah’s wedding gown. Blake waited at a coffee shop two doors down while Andrea went in for her fitting.

The dress itself was a lovely strapless, floor-length gown, white of course, with pearlescent white beads and embroidery and handmade lace. To Andrea’s surprise, it had no train, but it had a boned bodice and a bell-shaped skirt that made her feel like she’d stepped out of the 1800s. Though the tailor was confused when the dress was too roomy for Andrea’s smaller bust line, she took it in stride and cheerfully assured the bride-to-be that she would make the few adjustments needed. Andrea agreed to return the following day for a final fitting. The tailor wanted her to return on Friday instead, but Andrea feared that was cutting it too close, leaving no time for any final alterations. The tailor was, after all, altering a dress to fit one woman that she’d designed and sewn for another. She just didn’t know it.

After a long and busy day, Blake took the house key from Andrea’s hand, unlocked the front door, and followed her inside. Her shoulders ached and her feet felt like bricks as she shuffled down the hall. All these wedding plans were weighing heavily on her, as was the proposition of having to actually convince people she was Sarah. Her eyes burned with the unshed tears of stress. She couldn’t wait for Blake to leave so she could go upstairs and cry in the shower. This was only her first day as Sarah. How in the world would she get through the next few days?

He put the key on the kitchen counter. “You look beat,” he said, taking her hand. “Come over here.” He led her to the family room and pulled the cushioned stool over to the couch. “Sit here.” She sat obediently, unsure what he had in mind until he sat on the couch behind her and began to massage her neck and shoulders. His touch was warm and gentle, yet his strong hands expertly kneaded her stiff muscles. “Now do you see why I think a million dollars isn’t enough?”

She nodded, grateful for his touch, for his strong, pillar-like presence, and for his generosity. His hands felt so good, she didn’t want him to ever stop. She sat with her head bowed and her eyes closed while his hands pressed and squeezed and rubbed her shoulders, neck, and back. The last thing she remembered that night was the heavenly feeling of being taken care of by a man who knew exactly what to do.

Andrea awoke the next morning in Sarah’s bed, dressed in only her bra and panties. She sat up, brushing the hair out of her face, and spotted the dress she’d worn the day before draped over the back of a chair by the window. She tried to remember walking up the stairs and getting undressed, but she couldn’t. The last thing she remembered was Blake massaging her aching muscles.
Oh, my word.
Had he carried her up here and undressed her? If she’d undressed herself, she’d have taken off her bra at least.

The sun was up, casting a warm, yellow glow over the city and long shadows of buildings onto their western neighbors. It was Thursday, and she had another day of running around getting stuff ready for this wedding. She would have to cancel her plans to meet Monica for lunch, but she would assure her friend that she was well and even having some fun, despite the stress of it all.

I should get up,
she thought, but instead pulled the sheet back over herself and turned onto her side.

Her mind kept returning to her half-naked state, trying hard to recall walking upstairs. She didn’t want to think about Blake carrying her in his arms—or worse, draped over his shoulder like a wounded soldier. And she certainly didn’t want to think about him taking her clothes off. How long had he stood over the bed, staring at her in her underwear? Had he taken any liberties? She didn’t know him well enough to assure herself he hadn’t copped a feel while she was asleep, though he’d certainly conducted himself like a gentleman otherwise.

She bolted upright, hearing a sound coming from downstairs. Was he still there? She kicked her way out of the sheet and pulled on a robe, making sure to belt it securely before pounding down the stairs.

In the kitchen, Blake pulled out the pans he’d used the day before.

“How did you get in here?” Andrea asked.

He tossed her a smile. “Good morning to you too. I never left. I didn’t have a key to lock the door behind me, and I didn’t want to take yours and lock you inside, in case you needed to go out early. I sent Steven home and asked him to come back this morning.”

She looked at the couch in the family room, but by the arrangement of cushions, it didn’t look slept on. “Where did you sleep?”

He pointed upward. Andrea’s mouth dropped open.
He didn’t!

“Guest room,” he said. “I was going to—”

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded, pointing to herself with both forefingers.

He gave her a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

Andrea yanked the robe’s sash and pulled the robe open to reveal her bra and panties. “You undressed me.”

Blake’s gaze floated down her body, pausing where her lacy, pink bra created both cleavage and breast-spillage, at the flatness of her stomach and the curves of her waist, and taking in the satiny sheen of her pink panties. He stared boldly at her body and down her legs before meeting her eyes again.

She snapped the robe closed and belted the sash, her face warming with the realization that she’d exposed herself to him. “No matter how tired I was, you had no right to take my clothes off.”

A smile lifted one corner of his mouth, and his eyes glittered mischievously. “I didn’t take your clothes off, but thanks for the peep show. I spent all day yesterday and part of the night wondering what was under that pretty dress.”

Her face burned with embarrassment. “You didn’t? Then how did I get undressed?”

He shrugged. “I carried you upstairs and laid you down fully clothed, except for the shoes, of course. You must’ve taken it off later.”

A dim memory of getting up to pee teased her mind. Now she vaguely remembered struggling to find the zipper pull, stepping out of the dress, and tossing it over the chair. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t remember doing that and just assumed...”

“...I was like your other boyfriends?” he finished. He pulled some items out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “What kind of assholes have you been dating?”

Other boyfriends? He wasn’t her boyfriend. “Not gentlemen, I guess. I’m sorry for accusing you.”

“I’m sorry you haven’t known decent men before now. You know, after this is over, I could set you up with my cousin Joe. You’ll meet him today. He’ll be my best man.”

It hadn’t occurred to Andrea that she would stay involved in these people’s lives once her role in this was finished. She wasn’t rich. She didn’t have fancy houses or chauffeurs or companies to run. Even if she got all the money promised to her, six million dollars wasn’t enough to move in their circles. She didn’t want to be their poor friend, the one they let hang out with them on their yachts because she couldn’t afford one of her own.

“Andrea?”

“Hm?”

“What time are we supposed to meet Charlotte and Joe?”

She looked around for her purse and found it beside the stool where he’d massaged her shoulders the night before. She withdrew her phone and checked the calendar. Luckily, it had some juice left, but she would need to recharge it before long. “One o’clock at someplace called Fine Steins. Do you know it?”

“Yeah, it’s in the City, so it’ll take close to an hour to get there. Do you have the gift Sarah got for Charlotte?”

Andrea went over what Sarah had told her but didn’t remember anything about a gift. “No, let me text her.” She tapped out a text:
Did you get Charlotte a gift?

A reply chimed moments later.
Oh, dadgum it. I forgot.

“Oh, great. She forgot.”