Lexie (7 page)

The vulnerability disappeared, and Roxie bent forward, resting her arms on the table. “Tell me more.”

“About what?”

“About you. I don’t care what.” She glanced at Lexie’s left hand. “Doesn’t look like you’re married. Do you have a boyfriend? Somebody who makes your heart go pitter-patter?”

From out of nowhere, Cam popped into her head. Leaning over her in the elevator… Dark, intense eyes watching her… Hard body radiating heat… Lexie was so surprised when her belly clenched, she shifted in her seat.

Roxie’s eyes widened. “I take that as a yes?”

“No. Definitely no.” She and Rowe had just veered into subject matter that they shouldn’t. Like her relationship with the Underhills… And her cleavage…

“Looks like a definite maybe to me.”

The hatchet man had no place here. None. Lexie had so many questions she wanted to ask. What was her sister’s favorite color? What kind of music did she like? What did she like to do? Where did she like to go? Was
she
dating anyone? “Okay, my turn—and this is a big one.”

“All right,” Roxie said, obviously relishing a dare.

Lexie grinned. “Is that billboard showing something it shouldn’t?”

Roxie laughed and gave her a wink. “What do you think?”

Chapter Four

It was dark when Cam found Lexie’s car outside The Ruckus. He braked, looking over the silver Acura. It stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the Harleys and pickup trucks surrounding the bar. Classy femininity against blue-collar toughness. His gut knotted up all over again. He’d been hunting for her for hours, but this was the last place he’d wanted to find her.

Well, not the last.

He pushed the random thoughts of her being hurt or worse out of his head. All kinds of ugly scenarios had toyed with him as he’d searched for her, and they’d put him in a dangerous mood. He didn’t know what he’d find inside that bar, but at least he knew he could deal with it.

He just didn’t know if she could.

Easing off the brake, he sought a place to park—one where he might stand a chance of not having his car stripped for parts. It wasn’t exactly the side of town one should be in after dark, especially not someone like her.

So what the hell was she doing here?

The spot he found was over a block away, but at least the streetlight overhead was still functional. He parallel parked, and his gaze fell on the newspaper in the passenger seat. Lexie stared back up at him, bold, sultry and totally wrong.

That was why she was here. The Underhills.

He grabbed the door handle and gave it a yank. Somebody had done this to her. Touched up an old photograph, put it on a stranger’s body…
Something
. He knew. He hadn’t been trying to make her feel better when he’d told her he believed her. The proof was in his lap. Looking at that billboard didn’t get him hard. Therefore, it wasn’t Lexie.

He slammed the car door shut.

She had not done this. It had been done to her.

And that made him mad enough to spit nails.

Fists clenched, he strode down the sidewalk towards The Ruckus. The sound of it caught him first. Half a block away, he could feel the rhythmic thump of a bass in his chest. Even the red neon sign seemed to flicker in time with the loud rock ’n’ roll. The low roar of a crowd hit him next. The place was living up to its name tonight.

And Lexie was in there all alone.

He ground his teeth as he walked by a pack of motorcycles lined up one after the other. She was trying to fix things.

“Julian, you idiot,” he spat. Of all the Underhill kids, Lexie was the brightest and most responsible. Yet her unfeeling father had pushed her to this.

Cam planted his hand against the front door and shoved it open. A cloud of smoke hit him in the face. The lights were dim, and the haze made it difficult to see. He moved farther into the bar. The music was cranked up loud, and the bar’s patrons—and it was a compliment to refer to them as such—were worked up. A bouncer was trying to keep the rowdiest of them under control, but something had them going. Cam worked his way around a group of construction workers so he could see. The crowd was heaviest around the bar, where catcalls and wolf whistles competed with Metallica. It wasn’t difficult to see what had the boys in a lather. Two women were dancing atop the bar.

Two gorgeous, dark-haired, gyrating…
Lexies
?

He stopped, dumbfounded.

He would have been shocked to find one of her up there. She was too tightly wound, too professional and proper. Yet there were
two
of her. Two unbelievably beautiful copies singing and laughing and
grinding
.

On cue, an erection pressed hard at the fly of his pants, and his attention focused on only one of the dark beauties. There she was, on the right. Quiet, nose-to-the-grindstone Lexie was working her slim hips better than the pros down the street at Erotic Heaven.

Cam did his best not to gape. Just the idea alone would have been enough to make him break out in a sweat, yet there she was in the flesh.

Only there were two of her.

In disbelief, his head swiveled back and forth. The source of confusion over the billboard was solved, but it simply wasn’t possible. Everyone supposedly had a twin out there somewhere, but this double was identical.

An identical twin.

Oh hell. The air stuck under his breastbone came out in a whoosh.

As they’d painfully covered, Lexie had been adopted.

Cam’s heart pounded faster as he considered the two of them again. There was no mistaking it now. They were sisters, a perfect match. What were the odds? He could only imagine Lexie’s reaction when she’d come here and found this woman…

She shouldn’t have been alone for that. After this morning, she was vulnerable enough as it was.

Yeah, what
were
the odds?

Wariness slowly overrode his surprise, and his attention became more critical. As identical as the women seemed to be, there were differences. The one dressed in black and denim was a full-on seductress. She was as comfortable with her sexuality as the leather boots she wore. Lexie, on the other hand, was still in her work clothes—or some of them. She’d stripped out of her jacket, down to the light blue camisole underneath. It was softer and more feminine than the low-cut tank her sister wore. Just like she was.

As analytical as he was trying to be, Cam felt his mouth water.

The way she moved…
Sweet mercy
. It was sensual rather than steamy. Understated rather than blatant. And it turned him on faster than a touch straight to his groin.

Tension gripped him as her hips swayed to and fro. Laughing at something the other woman said, she lifted her arms over her head, pulling the blue silk tighter over her full breasts. Together, they did a simultaneous swivel that had him hardening to the point it was painful. Looking like this, happy and carefree, Lexie was gorgeous. Absolutely stunning.

And every man in the bar knew it.

Possessiveness hit him like a sucker punch. What
the fuck
was she doing up there?

Bulldozing through the crowd, he made his way to the bar. This wasn’t her. What had her double said or done to make her think this was a good idea? Hell, she wasn’t thinking, and that was a bad sign. Lexie always thought. She thought too much.

He worked his way around a guy with a bandana tied around his head and got an elbow in his side for his efforts. He threw one right back. She might be out of her element here, but he’d grown up in places worse than this hole-in-the-wall. He had size on his side now, and he was a heck of a lot meaner. It didn’t take much to move the beer-bellied crowd out of his way.

He planted himself in front of the bar but felt his knees go wobbly as he looked up at her. This close, she was irresistible. All softness and sex wrapped into one.

“Lexie,” he called, his voice like sandpaper.

She didn’t hear him. The music was too loud, and she’d shut her eyes to listen to the rhythm. The way she was moving made him think of one thing and one thing only. Hot, sweaty, slow thrusts…

Fuck.
“Lexie.”

She opened her eyes dreamily. A man next to him let out a groan. Cam would have done the same, but he had to get her off that perch. She was exposed, she was vulnerable and she was drunk.

He caught her ankle to get her attention.

She jumped and nearly lost her balance. He tried to catch her, but she righted herself clumsily. Her lips flattened in anger as she looked down into the sea of faces before her. Instinctively, Cam lifted his forearm to protect himself from a kick.

Fortunately, she recognized him before that happened.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t happy about it. Her face flared and her smile dimmed.

“Come on, Lexie,” he said. “Get down from there.”

The expression on her face could only be described as horror. Inhibition came over her like a nun’s robe, and she stopped dancing. Stopped smiling and stopped flirting. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I came for you.”

She frowned and took a step in the other direction. “No.”

A jab hit Cam in the kidney. “Hey, buddy. Quit cuttin’ in on the action.”

Action, his ass. This crowd wasn’t getting any more action, at least not out of one of these women. “We need to talk,” he said more firmly.

“No, we don’t.”

He watched as she rubbed her arms. He hadn’t wanted to make her feel self-conscious. She was sweet and sexy when she let down her guard. Downright sensual. As much as he liked seeing her that way, he’d prefer it in private, not in front of a bunch of horny guys who’d had too much Miller and Bud.

“Yes, we do.” He gestured towards the other woman. “It wasn’t you on that billboard. We’ve got our proof now.”

Her wide eyes narrowed. “
We
have proof?”

The lookalike moved closer. The dancing had stopped entirely now, and the crowd wasn’t happy about it. Sweaty male bodies shifted, and low voices grumbled. The twin gave them a shimmy to calm them, but her dark eyes were focused on Cam. He could feel them like a hot laser.

She trusted him about as much as he trusted her.

Which wasn’t much at all.

“Who’s this?” she asked, planting her hand on her hip.

“Nobody,” Lexie mumbled, folding her arms over her chest.

Cam’s jaw hardened. Nobody?

The double’s gaze swept over him. “Is he going to be trouble?”

Hell, yes. Starting with whoever’s idea it was to put her up on that bar. “Lexie, it’s time to go.”

“Stay where you are, Toots,” a gruff voice called.

“Yeah. Give us another bump-bump,” another hooted.

She backed away from the onslaught of testosterone, and Cam tensed. Yet it was her sister who caught her about the waist and kept her from toppling over backwards onto the bartender.

Who, by the way, was getting an eyeful. She was in a skirt up there.

Cam glared at the man.

Lexie was more concerned with the sea of people in front of her. Lifting her hand to block the lights from her eyes, she looked out over the crowd. Her jaw slackened when she saw all the faces tilted up at her. Her cheeks turned a pretty pink as she realized, probably for the first time, where she was and what she was doing.

Cam tried to keep his voice low and soothing. “It’s all right. Just come here.”

This time when he reached for her, she came to him willingly. He caught her by the hips, and she braced her hands against his shoulders. The position elicited a whistle from someone close to his eardrum. Bent over as she was, anyone could see right down her shirt. The pale blue bra she wore under that camisole cradled her curves in a way that no beer-swigging biker deserved to see.

He swung her down off the makeshift stage and onto the wooden floor. Keeping her close, he shielded her from the crowd. Her warm body pressed against his side, and her fast breaths hit his neck. She rocked a bit on her feet as she pushed her hair out of her eyes, and the contact made every one of his nerve endings light up.

“You’re blitzed,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “What’s it to you?”

Nothing—but he’d never seen her at anything less than full control, besides this morning. Her spine wasn’t rigid, and her lips were soft. Her eyes were still suspicious, but they weren’t as sharp. For once, that quick mind of hers wasn’t three steps ahead of him. The effect was interesting.

The crowd shifted then, bumping up against them. She rocked again on her high heels, falling against his chest. Cam pulled her to him as his head whipped around.

The man next to them held up his hands, a tallboy clenched in one. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean anything.”

“Come on, Roxie,” someone else called. “Don’t leave us hanging.”

The brunette on the bar fluffed her hair, unfazed by the attention she received standing up there alone. “Sorry, boys. Show’s over. It’s time for you to buy more drinks.”

She jumped down behind the bar, ready to help take orders. There were more grumbles, but most of the men reached into their back pockets for their wallets.