Lexie (28 page)

She took a deep breath. “When we were arguing about going to the media, Cam told me there was a better way.”

Lexie gave a brisk nod. She remembered. Distinctly.

Roxie pushed her curly hair over her shoulder. “Well, he gave me the name of a detective, someone I could use instead of the tabloids and television news magazines to find out more about where we came from.”

Lexie shot a fierce look at Cam. “You did?”

He wrapped a hand around his mug of beer. “I told you I had resources, but I didn’t know if she’d use them. Hell, for all I knew, she was going to use the money to buy a new pullout sofa.” His eyes narrowed on Roxie. “Which you could use, by the way.”

She brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “The point is, I hired the guy.”

Lexie shifted in her chair. She didn’t know if she liked the direction this conversation was taking. “I thought you wanted our story ‘out there’,” she said, using air quotes.

Underneath the table, Cam settled a hand over her knee.

“I wanted
information
.” Roxie shrugged. “I didn’t care how I got it.”

Information.

Lexie’s gaze snapped down to the file half-hidden in her sister’s arms, and her pulse jumped. Roxie hadn’t sold them out. She wasn’t going around on talk shows or writing a tell-all book.

She was looking into their forgotten background.

Lexie came to her feet, pushing back the wooden chair with a screech. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She felt like she’d been saying that a lot lately. She looked at Cam. “Did you know?”

He shook his head and watched Roxie thoughtfully.

Roxie’s foot rocked back on its heel but slowly lowered. “It was something I wanted to do on my own, and you were going through your own issues. This twin thing has been a lot for both of us to adjust to.” She looked down at the file and drummed her fingers against it. “Although this is going to take a little more adjusting.” She stood up straight and nodded at Cam. “Your guy was good. He found something.”

Lexie was ready to rip the folder out of her twin’s hand. “Our parents?” she asked. “Did you find out why they gave us up?”

Roxie shook her head. “No. Not yet, anyway.”

She finally pushed away from the bar. Maybe it was the flip-flops, but her steps didn’t look as self-confident as they did when she wore her stiletto boots. She stopped at the table and carefully placed the folder atop it.

Lexie stood so close, their shoulders and hips seemed glued. The tension was thick. She could barely stand it. “What did he find?”

“Not what.
Who
.” Roxie turned her head, and they stared at each other’s identical faces. “I don’t think we’re twins, Lex.”

Lexie flinched as if she’d been slapped. Of course they were twins. There was no doubt about it. The DNA test results said so. They looked the same, they sounded the same, they—

Roxie opened the folder. Lexie glanced down, and her breath stopped completely.

Cam leaned over the table. “I’ll be damned.”

Roxie’s fingers shook as she traced the outline of a picture—a picture of another pretty, dark-haired woman. Lexie stared so hard, she forgot to blink. She tried to read the words underneath the photograph, but her gaze kept jumping back up to the woman’s face. It was too much to take in. Her brain couldn’t assimilate what she was seeing.

“Underhill said they didn’t want a passel of kids,” Roxie mused. “Two kids isn’t a passel.”

And Julian had said they couldn’t take
all
of them…not both. That son of a bitch. He’d held back again. “I’ll kill him,” Lexie whispered.

“I’ll
kiss
him,” Roxie said, one-upping her.

Things began clicking into place, and Lexie finally understood. More than understood, she felt it all the way to her bones. It was true. The final missing piece.

She grabbed her bourbon and drank. When she slammed the glass back onto the table, the words at the bottom of the picture became clear.

“Maxine Miller,” she read. “Goes by the nickname Maxie. Oh my God, Roxie.”

“We’re not twins, hon.” Roxie caught her hand and held tight. “There’s another one of us out there. We’re two of a set of identical triplets.”

About the Author

Kimberly Dean is an award-winning romance author of over twenty books. Her work has been sold around the world and translated into French, German, Thai and Japanese. She enjoys the freedom and creativity allowed in writing romance, especially with all the interesting cross-genres that have been exploding on the scene. When not writing, she enjoys movies, sports, traveling, music and sunshine. You can learn more about Kimberly and her books at
www.kimberlydean.com
and follow her on Twitter at
@KDean_writer
.

Look for these titles by Kimberly Dean

Now Available:

Blade of Moonlight

In a world of darkness, she is his light.

Blade of Moonlight

© 2012 Kimberly Dean

A
Midnight Justice
Story

It’s a dark and stormy night, and Luna Masters is in trouble. Buttoned-up court reporter by day, by night she fights crime as Luminescence, drawing power from the moon. No moon, no power…and she’s about to pay with her life.

As her consciousness dims, a man steps from the shadows. But he’s no savior. It’s Scythe, a villain whose reputation for evil is legend. When she awakens, at first she’s surprised to be alive. Then enraged to find herself tied to his bed. Naked.

Scythe is livid. A minor superhero like Luna has no business on his turf, and he plans to enjoy administering punishment, Yet somewhere in the night, pain turns into pleasure…then into something wicked and sexy that shakes them both to the core.

Though Scythe warns her away, Luna’s passion for justice draws her back into the dark, to her masked lover’s side. For good, or evil? Only the dawn will tell…

Warning: Pow! In the clash of good versus evil, villains don’t play nicely. Bam! When captured, superheroines often get tied up. Kablooie! Hot sex may cause mayhem with your e-reader.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Blade of Moonlight:

“You reflect the moon’s light, don’t you, Luminescence?”

No, that wasn’t it, but he was close. She was one with the moon. As it behaved, so did she, but he could never know that about her.

His fingers slid down her breastbone again, and her breaths hitched when he traced the line of the sheet, dangerously close to her nipples. He watched the soft material tent, knowing what he was doing to her. Their gazes connected but, still, she refused to give him anything.

He turned to the hardwood chair beside the bed. She hadn’t even noticed it until he lifted a scrap of material. The bra of her costume dangled from his finger. Her clothes!

His jaw hardened as he toyed with the skimpy top. “That’s why you run around the city in barely more than a bikini, so you can use your power to its full potential. More skin equals more light.”

Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she struggled not to say anything. He was getting too close to the truth. Her costume wasn’t so much of a style choice, but a necessity. Under a full moon, she could bring down criminals with only her face and her hands bare. But on a night like this—

Her face. Her head whipped to the side, and she searched the chair, hoping against hope. Her stomach dropped when she spotted her mask draped across its high back. The strip of black material might cover only her eyes, but it had protected her identity. Until now.

He’d seen her face.

He dropped the bikini top and picked up the black bottoms. They were made of a synthetic material, giving her the lightness and maneuverability of spandex, but the toughness of leather. Using both hands, he stretched them, watching them pull shorter to compensate, and shook his head in a strange combination of anger and disgust.

And undisguised interest.

“And more skin equals more skin. That helps rattle the boys, too, doesn’t it?” His head cocked. “What if you’re going up against a villainess?”

Some of them were distracted, too, but she wasn’t going to go there. Luna glared at him belligerently.
Identify him.
He knew what she looked like, right down to the birthmark on her right hip. He’d stripped her of everything she had. She had to find a way to expose him.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on. He was big, built and sexy. Her thoughts stalled. She shouldn’t find him attractive—not with the situation he’d put her in—but she did. Adrenaline and pheromones were creating a dangerous chemistry. She had to be careful or she’d get pulled into the reaction.

He held her belt now, the one she normally kept wrapped low around her hips. Everything she needed was on that belt, and she ached for it. Her serrated knife, her palm unit and her taser.

Her gaze stuck on the weapon. He’d grabbed her taser for her?

“The boots,” he said gruffly as he crouched.

Luna cringed. For some reason, his examination of her belongings was as personal as if he’d been going over her naked body inch by inch—which she wasn’t quite sure wasn’t next. She wanted to pull everything back, to hide from his attention.

“The boots are something else, though, aren’t they?” His gray gaze suddenly locked with hers. “They get you off.”

Under the covers, her toes curled. How did he know that? How could he have figured that out? Low-heeled boots or runner’s shoes would have been more feasible, more practical. They had just looked so stupid with her skimpy costume, but the high-heeled black boots? They’d made her cream.

She swallowed again, and this time found her mouth wet with saliva. “The stilettos make good weapons.”

“Meaning they bring down any man with a healthy dick.”

He knew he was right. There was a hint of a dark smile on his lips as he looked at her, and Luna was frustrated she couldn’t see more of his face. He might have gotten rid of the Grim Reaper cape, but his head and torso were covered with a form-fitted, one-piece spandex shirt and ski-mask type of garment. It covered the back of his head and came down over his nose and eyes. Only the lower half of his face was revealed, showing a strong jaw and hard lips. Those lips mocked her now.

“Whatever works,” she snapped. The words were out before she could stop them, and they surprised her. She shouldn’t encourage him. She shouldn’t play along—not in this.

“Oh, they do, sweetheart.” He glanced at the front of his dark jeans and shifted in discomfort. “They definitely do.”

He took another harsh breath that seemed to fuel his anger. With a curse, he began to stride around the room again. “What goes on in that head of yours? What makes you think you can go strutting around half-naked—
hell, three-quarters naked—
in the most dangerous parts of the city and be safe?”

Outrage hit her. She didn’t
strut
. When she was out at night, she was fully intent on her work. “You know that I have a cape too. It covers me from head to foot.”

“Until you whip it off and give everyone a good look.”

Her teeth ground together. That was to shine the attention on the bad guys—not herself. She did everything she could to keep herself in the background. She knew how to merge with the darkness. She’d always been smart and safe.

Until now.

He turned on her, looming over the end of the bed where her legs were spread wide under the thin sheet. “Do you know what some of those scumbags would do to you if they caught you?”

Her stomach clenched, and her outrage dimmed. The real question was, what was he going to do with her?

She watched him unblinkingly, afraid to move, afraid to say anything that would make him more upset than he already was. His lips might mock her, but his fingers were clenched and his breaths heaved. The stretchy material of his costume clung to a chest that was heavily muscled. In the dark shadows, each hard curve and dip was delineated. His uniform kept him as covered as she was left bared, and the disparity struck her. Dark versus light. Good versus evil.

Her need to see his face grew to a craving. She wanted to know the color of his hair. Was it thick and silky? Dark and wavy? She wanted to touch that chest, with nothing between her fingertips and his skin.

And she knew it was wrong. All of it. He hadn’t rescued her. He’d pulled her further into the depths of danger. All that darkness might be seductive, but temptations were rarely good for you. She knew this man was bad for her, right down to his core.

“I’ll have you put away for this,” she said quietly. “I’ll have you put away for life.”

His expression went even darker. “You and what army?”

“The justice system will be enough.”

A bark of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty and harsh. He moved again and suddenly he was over her, his hands braced on either side of her pillow. “If you believe that, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

His body hovered inches above hers, close but still too far away. Her body tingled, wanting what it shouldn’t. Then his hand was fisting in the sheet, his knuckles pressing hard between her breasts. When he ripped the covering off her, it was like being splashed with chilled air. He tossed the sheet aside, baring her all the way to her cuffed ankles and pink-painted toenails. Luna arched, wanting to run, wanting to hide, but there was no escape.