Body Double (10 page)

Her spine stiffened. Blake wouldn’t do that, would he? He seemed committed to going through with it, even after finding out Sarah was gay. For him to put his own needs and desires aside out of love for his mother was admirable. Or maybe just plain weird. Was he one of those mama’s boys who never grew up, always involving his mother in his private affairs? Well, Andrea wasn’t going to Hawaii with Blake and his mom, that was for sure. Once the honeymoon was over, Blake’s mother was Sarah’s problem.

She parked in her assigned spot at the apartment complex and hurried up to her apartment. She pulled a canvas knapsack out of the closet and grabbed her toothbrush and other personal effects and put them in the front pocket. Her phone rang with the Looney Toons ringtone.

“Hey, girlfriend,” she answered cheerfully as she shoved pair after pair of clean panties into her satchel.

“Finally! Andie, what’s going on?”

“You might not believe it,” she replied with a giggle. “Before I tell you, you have to promise this stays between you and me.”

“Are you in danger?”

“No. Absolutely not. Well, not physical danger.” If Blake left her at the altar on Saturday, she might lose her mind, but she decided not to relay that possibility to her best friend. “I signed a nondisclosure agreement, and I’m bound by contract to keep this private. I was given permission to tell you, but only if you promise not to tell anyone, not even Pete.”

“All right, then,” Monica said. “I promise—unless I begin to fear for your safety, so you have to keep me in the loop.”

Andrea told Monica about the second interview that morning, about Sarah’s strange request, and the promise of six million dollars. She let everything spill out in her excitement, telling her friend about her dinner with the handsome and wealthy groom, his mother’s business venture, Sarah’s tyrannical father, Sarah’s sexual orientation, and the business in Colombia that precipitated the whole thing.

For a moment, Monica said nothing. “I don’t know about this, Andie. These are all rich people. If something goes wrong and you end up hurt, they’ll pay whoever they need to pay to get out of it. They can crush you with the weight of their money.”

“Oh, hush your mouth,” Andrea said in her best Sarah imitation. “Don’t give me your ‘rich people are evil’ speech. They aren’t. And Blake’s really nice. He mistook me for Sarah and didn’t even get pissed when I told him what’s going on.”

“Jesus. Watch your back, girlfriend. All they need to do is knock you upside the head and you could find yourself in a shallow grave somewhere.”

Andrea clucked her tongue. “You’re such a worry wart. I’m not going to get hurt.”

“You’d better not. I’d hate to have to hunt them down and kill them.”

Andrea laughed. “I’m staying at Sarah’s until this whole thing is over. I have a couple of appointments tomorrow morning, and I’ll probably spend some time with Blake to get some coaching for Saturday. I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon. Maybe you can swing by on Thursday.”

Monica sighed. “You’re resigned to doing this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve already committed. The ball is rolling.”

“Have you told your parents?”

Ugh!
Her parents. Just the thought of having to explain this to her mom and dad filled her with dread. They would think she’d gone crazy. She hadn’t even told them about the tattoo she’d gotten on her shoulder. “No,” she admitted. “And I’m not going to, either. Not until I’ve got to explain the six million dollars in my bank account.”

“If they actually pay you.”

“I have no reason to think they aren’t people of their word.” A double-beep in Andrea’s ear signaled a waiting call. “Oh, hey, I’m getting another call. Probably Sarah. I’ve got to go.”

“All right. Keep me posted—either text or call—and let me know you’re all right.”

“I will. Kiss kiss.” She pushed the flash button to switch to the incoming call and answered with a cheerful hello.

“Hi, it’s Sarah. Just checking in.”

“Sarah, hi. Are you in Colombia yet?”

“We landed a few minutes ago. Did everything go okay with Blake?”

“As well as could be expected. He’s on board and offered to help me learn to be you. He’s really nice.”

“He’s got no weevils in his wheat, as we say. So you told him I’m gay.”

“I had to. He deserved to know, and you authorized me to make decisions—”

“Oh, I’m not upset, hon,” Sarah said. “I’m actually relieved. I’d been avoiding that conversation, so thank you. Is there anything you need to know? I might be hard to get hold of in the next couple of weeks.”

“Blake mentioned something about Sunday, thinking it was why you weren’t here. Anything I should be concerned about?”

Sarah clucked her tongue. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it. Just a couple of bulls pawing the ground and snorting at each other.”

“Oh,” Andrea said with a chuckle of relief. “What happened?”

“We were out dancing and some creep decided he would be a better companion for me than Blake, and Blake took exception to that. The other guy wouldn’t back down, but his big mistake was grabbing my boob.”

“Whoa, really? What’d you do?”

“I hauled off and slapped his molars loose, which I thought would put an end to it, but Blake’s natural protective instinct kicked in. He beat the guy up pretty bad—not emergency room bad, but bruised and bloody. Definitely changed his mind about leaving the bar with me.”

“Oh, my!” Andrea had never been one to condone violence, but to be honest, she thought it gallant of Blake to defend his lady. “Were you upset?”

“I thought he went overboard with the beat-down, and I had to holler at him to get him to stop. True, the guy was being an ass, but I’m glad Blake was with me. I got the impression this guy might’ve followed me to my car. He was bold and creepy. Anyway, don’t worry about Blake.”

“He won’t be facing charges, will he?”

“No, there were a lot of witnesses. A few people even applauded.” Sarah chuckled. “Apparently, the jerk had been making a nuisance of himself all evening. I wasn’t the first woman he’d assaulted that night.”

“Thanks for telling me. I was afraid it was something serious. Is he always like that? Protective?”

“Yes, but considering his background, it’s not surprising.”

Andrea felt this background was something she should know if she was going away with the guy. “What background? Was he a cop or something?”

“No, not a cop. Don’t tell him I told you, but when he was in high school, one of his buddies got hurt on the football field. I think he said it was their last game of the season. Anyway, Blake went out for a pass, and the guy he would have blocked on a different play took out the quarterback.”

“Oh, no,” Andrea said.

“I don’t know a lot about football, but from the sound of it, it wasn’t Blake’s fault. He did what he was supposed to do, but he feels guilty for it anyway, like he faults himself for not being in two places at once.”

“That’s terrible. Did the quarterback... did he die?”

“No, but he’s in a wheelchair. It was a terrible injury, and so traumatic for Blake that he gave up a scholarship at a top-ranked football college to join the Army and never looked back.”

Football. That explained his athletic build.

“Oh, hey, I’d better go,” Sarah said. “Text when you need to. I’ll reply as soon as I can.”

“Will do. Be careful, Sarah.”

After disconnecting, Andrea took a shower in the master bathroom, enjoying the rainfall-style showerhead. She realized she’d forgotten to bring a night gown, and so she searched gingerly through Sarah’s dresser, feeling like a snoop, to find one that didn’t look too new or too worn. She didn’t want to wear Sarah’s favorite or something she’d bought for a special occasion.

Snuggled in a plush robe and slippers, she roamed the house, admiring the gorgeous furniture and artwork, clean marble and wood floors, hand-woven area rugs, and the airy feel of the large rooms with their tall ceilings. While she might have preferred wall-to-wall carpeting in the larger rooms to cut down on the echo, the home was lovelier than even the nicest hotel she’d ever stayed in. With six million dollars, she could have a nice home too—maybe not as fancy as this, but certainly more luxurious than anything she could hope to buy otherwise. To listen to Monica, she’d never see that money. However it played out, she would enjoy a few days here before her trip to Hawaii. At least that would be paid for.

She curled up on the loveseat in the family room with her e-reader, but the luxurious home beckoned her. She walked around, envisioning herself living there permanently. Living in a beautiful home with a husband like Blake Thomas.

Chapter 5

Andrea awoke to the sound of the doorbell. She pulled on a robe and hurried to the top of the landing to see who it was. Blake stood outside the grand double glass doors holding two bulging grocery bags. Her heart sputtered at the sight of him, and there she was, barely dressed. She swiped a hand over her hair in a futile effort to smooth the disheveled strands as she hurried down the stairs.

“Good morning,” he sang when she opened the door. He took in her state of undress with a crooked smile.

“You’re early,” she said, stepping aside so he could enter.

“Sarah doesn’t keep food in the house, so I thought I’d make you breakfast.” He offered her one of the two bags to carry, and she took it. The robe fell open, and he slid his free arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her cheek. “You look very sexy,” he said into her ear.

He headed toward the kitchen, leaving her standing there, mouth agape, while her mind raced to catch up with what had just happened. Andrea pushed the door shut with her foot and followed him, clutching the robe closed with her free hand. “What time is it?” She set the bag on the island countertop and peered inside: eggs, bread, and some kind of bakery box at the bottom.

“Seven fifteen. Why don’t you run up and get dressed while I start?” He glanced at her over his shoulder as he began unpacking the other grocery bag, setting the items on the countertop: milk, jam, sausage, and butter.

She watched him dig around in the cupboards for pots and pans, stunned. He was a rich guy, probably had all kinds of servants and staff to cook and clean for him, and yet he’d learned to cook? Sean had never made anything for her, not even a cup of coffee. “Um, okay.” From the back, his shoulders looked broader than she’d remembered, his waist narrow in comparison, and his butt, sculpted and lean, looked fine in dark blue chinos.

“Better hurry. It’ll be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

Her mind formed an image of him joining her in the shower, running his big hands over her soapy, naked body.
Stop it, Andrea.
“I just woke up. Can you watch TV or something to give me a head start?”

“Sure. Is thirty minutes enough?” he asked.

With one last glance at his butt, she scurried to the stairs. “Thirty I can manage,” she called out, jogging up the steps.

“What do you like in your omelet?” he asked. “I’ve got cheese, onion, tomatoes, bell peppers, mushrooms, broccoli, ham, chicken, and sausage.”

She leaned over the railing from the second-floor that looked over the family room next to the kitchen. Though she couldn’t see him below her, she knew he’d hear her. A man like him in the kitchen could make her burnt toast and cold coffee, and she would barely notice. “I’m not picky. Whatever you make will be fine.”

After washing her hair and shaving, she brushed her teeth, blew her hair mostly dry, and dressed in a lavender, green, and white tie-dyed, lacy sun dress, whose princess seams flattered her figure. She inspected herself in the mirror, making sure her panty line didn’t show. After smearing cherry blossom-scented lotion on her arms and legs, she swiped on some mascara and headed downstairs, hoping to see approval in his eyes.

Blake looked up at her approach and smiled. The way his gaze caressed her body quickened Andrea’s pulse. “Perfect timing.” He hurried to the table and pulled a chair out for her. “Madame.”

Two place settings had been prepared at the round table side by side, each with shiny silver, a white plate, paper napkin, and a sweating glass of orange juice. A single white rose stood in a clear vase, its petals directed at one of the plates. She leaned over to smell the rose, closing her eyes to enjoy it more, before sitting. “It’s lovely. You really didn’t have to make such a fuss.”

He leaned down and kissed the butterfly tattoo on top of her shoulder, sending a wave of warmth rippling across her skin. “It was my pleasure.” Blake returned to the stove and picked up a skillet. “Great dress, by the way.”

“It’s Sarah’s.”

“And it suits you.” He scooped the omelet onto her plate and returned with the empty skillet to the stove. “Love the tat. Got any others?”

“Not yet, but I’m thinking of getting another. Do you have any?”

He winked at her as he slid another omelet onto his own plate. “You’ll have to discover the answer to that yourself. Does the wedding dress cover it up?”

She hadn’t thought to ask Sarah whether her gown was sleeveless. “I’m supposed to go in for a fitting adjustment this afternoon, so I’ll find out then. If it doesn’t, I’ll use makeup to cover the tat.” If push came to shove, she’d swing by a theatrical makeup supply store. That stuff didn’t come off with a mere touch.