Lexie (5 page)

Opening the door, she walked out. Underhill staff still mingled about, but if they watched her, she didn’t notice. Cam’s name tingled on the tip of her tongue as she walked towards the elevator bay. Her legs were unsteady, and her body was sensitive from where they’d touched. She felt him watching every step she took, but no footsteps came after her.

She was grateful for the reprieve.

She had too many things on her mind right now, too many problems with which she had to deal. Her father had given her the boot. Her family was looking down their noses at her, while thousands of strangers were looking up with awe, disgust or even lust. Yet things between her and Cameron Rowe had just changed.

And that might be more than she could handle.

Bad to worse was right.

Chapter Three

Lexie got in her car and started driving. As much as she wanted to floor the accelerator, she couldn’t let herself. The last thing she needed right now was to run over someone. Besides, this was something she could control. She could tell her car how fast to go, when to turn and where to stop. She wouldn’t let it go topsy-turvy or upside down.

Like her morning had just gone.

Her fingers began to cramp around the steering wheel. Flexing them, she looked both ways before exiting the parking ramp. She felt like she’d been sandblasted, numb to her surroundings yet overly raw at the same time. The sun was too bright as it came through the windshield, yet the air blowing from the vents didn’t seem to touch her skin.

A red light told her to brake. Why not? She was in no hurry. Like she’d told Rowe, she didn’t know where she was going or what she was going to do. Yet when her car pointed towards the freeway, she knew that had been a bald-faced lie.

She had to see it.

She had to see that billboard for herself, live and uncensored. Up close, it couldn’t look that much like her. The newspaper print had given an optical illusion. She was not displayed larger than life looking like that.

Fortunately, morning rush hour was over and downtown traffic was light. She took the nearest on-ramp to the freeway. Cobalt City was a town of halves. Developed around the Cobalt River, the waterway served as both a physical and socioeconomic divide. The east side held the official downtown area, as well as the arts district and, farther out, the upper-class suburbs. The west side was the home of the blue-collar. The city’s main river port was accessible from the west bank, and industrial companies filled the pocket where the river twisted back upon itself. Truth was, the best pizza and blues bands could be found on the west side too.

There wasn’t much question where the billboard would be. It would be along the freeway heading out of downtown, going across the river. She knew, because that was where she would have put it. Merging with the traffic, she stayed in the right lane. The real question was whether it had been placed nearer to downtown or closer to the bar itself?

She didn’t care. She’d find it.

She put the car on cruise control as she scoured the roadway advertising. Reaching into her storage compartment, she found her sunglasses. The moment she slipped them on, a twinge of hurt slid through all that numbness. What was she doing, driving down the highway on a weekday morning, searching for a smutty picture board? Seriously. How had everything gone so out of whack? What had she done to deserve this? And when had Cameron Rowe appointed himself her defender? None of it made sense.

Yet one thing was clear.

The billboard was of her.

She was on top of it before she knew it. Jamming on the brakes, she pulled over to the shoulder and simply stared. Cars whizzed by in the so-called slow lane only feet from her, but her attention on the gigantic billboard was unwavering.

It was
uncanny
. Perching her sunglasses atop her head, she let in all the bright, glaring details. Not one was missed. The tiny birthmark on her right shoulder was there, although magnified a thousand times over. The woman’s dark hair had the same unusual auburn highlights as hers, and the face was a dead ringer. Lexie concentrated hard on the eyes. They made her uncomfortable—more than she’d like to admit—but what she saw was something she sometimes lacked. Confidence.

Did sexy equal edgy? Was that what Rowe thought she didn’t have?

Flustered, she looked elsewhere—but the only other place to look was lower. She blushed as she evaluated the model’s curves. She worked out religiously, but modesty would never allow her to wear something so revealing. Something that… Oh God. Heat flashed through her, and she leaned forward, squinting hard.

Was that a nipple?

She clapped her hand over her mouth. She got the controversy now. It was impossible to tell. The bustier was cherry red. It could be a frill of the lace…or maybe it wasn’t. One thing was for certain, it was a miracle that the illusion hadn’t caused a high-speed pileup. Going by the challenge in the woman’s eyes, she knew exactly what she was or wasn’t showing off. Lexie would never be capable of pulling off such a devilish smirk.

But she was feeling pretty evil right now.

Anger bubbled up inside her, overriding the hurt and confusion. This was slanderous…libelous…whichever applied. Either way, her reputation was being dragged through the mud. She wanted some answers and she wanted them now.

Reaching over to her GPS, she punched in The Ruckus with a hand that was rock steady. When the address popped up on the screen, she nodded grimly. Nice location, right on the water in the heart of brawler territory.

The Acura’s tires squealed as she pulled back into traffic. Someone at the bar should be able to tell her how this had all come to be. That billboard hadn’t gotten up there by itself. Someone had designed the ad, someone had worked on the graphics and somebody had paid for it.

She wondered which Underhill’s name was beside the charge.

Gritting her teeth, she headed across the Cobalt. Following the GPS’s instructions, she took the first off-ramp. Still, she cursed under her breath when a red light stopped her at the intersection. Another turn back towards the water slowed her down even further, and the road began twisting as it followed the natural course of the river. A few blocks later, she finally saw the neon sign for which she was searching.

The Ruckus. Even dimmed for the day, it was impossible to miss. She pulled over to the curb to park. At this hour it wasn’t difficult to find a spot, but the spaces closest to the bar’s entrance were too small. She chose one farther down the street and looked at the tightly spaced, parallel white lines as she got out of the car.

Her appearance was being used to push a biker bar. Great. Just perfect for the family-values crowd.

She slammed the car door, and her heels clipped determinedly as she strode to the bar’s front door. The neighborhood was known for being rough but, in her mood, she was spoiling for a fight.

She yanked on the front door, expecting it to be locked. She was surprised when it opened. Stepping inside, she found it too dark to see. She took off her sunglasses but, even then, it was a moment before her eyes could adjust to the dim lighting. The air inside the bar was cool, a welcome relief. Too bad the temperature was about to rise significantly for someone.

Lexie searched for somebody to question. Someone to blame. Someone at whom she could yell.

A big guy with a scruffy face and a muscle shirt was working on a light fixture. He’d do.

She made a beeline for him, and he looked down from his perch atop a chair when he heard her. “Sorry, we’re closed. Oh, hey. I didn’t know you were…”

His voice drifted off as he stared at her. He did a quick sweep down her body, and Lexie braced herself. She knew she wasn’t their normal clientele. In her suit and four-inch heels, she had to stand out like a sore thumb. Yet the man’s expression was more confused than anything.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked.

“I’d like to speak with the person in charge.”

His look only turned more befuddled. He stood atop the chair, holding the light bulb in his fist as if a flash of insight would turn it on. “You mean Charlie?”

“Sure. Charlie. Where would I find him?”

“In the kitchen, like always.”

Like always. “And that would be…?”

The man’s face screwed up even more, and he pointed to the swinging half doors to her left. Lexie spun on her heel. She was marching in the direction he’d pointed when the doors suddenly swung open. A dark-haired woman strolled through the archway and into the bar area with her head down as she flipped through the day’s mail.

So Charlie was female.

Lexie stopped and folded her arms over her chest. Out of habit, she rocked her right foot back onto its heel. “Are you the person responsible for the billboard over the freeway?”

The woman didn’t even look up. “No interviews. The moral minority can just sit and spin for all I care.”

“I’m not here to interview. I’m here to sue.”

A sultry laugh left the woman’s throat, and she tossed her long hair over her shoulder as her chin came up. “Oh, really. On what grounds—?”

Their gazes connected, and time stopped. Slowed down Matrix-style and froze.

Lexie forgot to breathe.

So did the woman in front of her.

She knew, because it was like staring into a mirror. The woman facing her was her exact replica, a true doppelganger. The toes of Lexie’s right foot slowly dropped back to the floor. She needed all the balance she could get, because her world was going topsy-turvy again.

She started to shake her head to clear her vision, but she couldn’t look away. She and the woman in front of her were identical in every way. Height. Body type. Even hairstyle. The face gawking at her could have been her own.

Identical.

It took a moment. Longer than that, actually, before the concept sank in.

Identical.

Oh, dear God. No, it couldn’t be.

Oxygen hit her lungs hard, burning them as she inhaled sharply. She’d always known she was adopted. She’d been reminded of the fact practically every day of her life. She’d been a brown-eyed brunette in a family of blue-eyed blondes. She was known as “the adopted one”, yet she’d never considered she might have a sister out there. She rejected the thought almost instantly, thinking of Blaire. A full-blooded sister, she amended. Flesh and blood.

But it was more than that. This woman could be a
twin
.

Floundering, Lexie reached out and caught the bar for support.

Almost simultaneously, the mail in the woman’s hand slipped from her fingers to the floor. It splattered everywhere, sliding noisily, but nobody in the room paid attention to it.

“Who
the hell
are
you
?”

The tone was as aggressive and angry as the woman’s unblinking glare. It made Lexie flinch in surprise, and she clung to the bar a bit more tightly. “Lexie…” She stopped to clear her throat. “My name is Lexie Underhill.”

The hard look on the other woman’s face melted, leaving her expression almost blank. Or stunned. Her chest rose and fell. “Lexie?” she repeated.

Lexie nodded.

“I’m Roxie,” the woman said.

Lexie’s breath caught. Not Charlie at all.

“Roxie Cannon.”

Lexie and Roxie. Oh, sweet heaven. It just couldn’t be.

Could it?

They evaluated each other from head to toe, taking in details fast…then slowing down to make sure. Lexie had thrown on her favorite navy blue suit during her mad dash this morning, hoping it would bring her luck in the meeting. She’d never expected it would bring her luck like this. She watched this woman, a stranger who might have more in common with her than anybody else in the entire world. Roxie had on low-slung jeans with a metal-studded belt. It hugged her tightly, and so did the close-fitting black tank she wore. The body on that billboard hadn’t been airbrushed one stroke.

Lexie couldn’t stop staring. Her replica was wearing high-heeled boots, while she was wearing high-heeled pumps. Roxie wore funky sterling-silver jewelry, while she wore a simple gold chain. Her reflection’s lips glistened with red lipstick, while her own were painted with a softer pink. Style-wise, they were night and day.

Underneath it all, though, they were interchangeable.

“I was adopted.” The words tumbled out of Lexie’s mouth. Without tact, with no tentative feeling-out period. In three small words, she asked the biggest question of her life. Yet they were all she could get out, and she wanted to know so badly.

“I wasn’t,” Roxie replied.

Lexie’s shoulders deflated. A rock of disappointment settled in her gut, and tears pricked at her eyes. Only seconds had passed. She’d just met this woman, yet a lifetime of hope had been lifted. She’d thought maybe…

“Oh, no! No, no,” Roxie said, her brown eyes widening. Reaching out almost compulsively, she caught Lexie by the forearm. Her nails bit, but the grip was trembling. “I didn’t mean it that way. I meant I never got out of the foster care system.”

Suddenly, Lexie felt as if she was keeping them both on their feet. If her hold on the bar faltered, they were both going down. Yet she was finding it hard to breathe. That rock in her stomach had jumped up into her chest.