Trouble In Triplicate (3 page)

"Juliet?" Caine stared at her.

"That's right."

"Damn, I should have known!" He sprang to his feet. "You tricked me! How does a person deal with someone who comes in triplicate? How does anyone ever know who is who is who?" He began to pace the floor, talking more to himself than to Juliet.

"It's downright eerie for three people to look like one! And it's unfair to everybody else! How can I be certain you're really Juliet? You could be Olivia for all I know. Or Miranda, pretending to be Juliet pretending to be Miranda!" He looked confused and flustered and utterly incensed.

Juliet tried and failed to suppress a laugh. His indignation struck her as hilarious. "You would've had a real problem with the Dionne quintuplets," she said dryly. "There were Jive of them!"

He gave her a ferocious scowl. "I like to keep the players straight on my game card."

"Is that a football metaphor?" she teased.

Caine's scowl grew even more fierce. He stopped pacing and turned to study her with accusing amber eyes. "Are you the same one I talked to on the phone earlier?"

Juliet nodded blithely.

"Why did you say you were Miranda? Or do the three of you make a practice of impersonating one another?"

"Of course not!" She paused. "Not unless it's absolutely necessary," she added defensively, avoiding his piercing eyes.

"I'd like to know what you deem a necessity. A dinner party? Why were the three of you dressed alike last night if not for the express purpose of confusing everyone?" he asked challengingly.

"Last night we were working. Those are the only times we dress alike. It's a gimmick we use. People seem intrigued by having identical triplets as their caterers, so our dressing alike is part of the service. It serves as a conversation piece and it boosts our business. At least it did when we first started four years ago. Our reputation has grown and we've enough steady customers now that I think maybe we could dispense with it, but—"

"You have too much fun driving people insane by playing guess who," he finished caustically. "Which doesn't explain why you masqueraded as your sister Miranda today."

Juliet met his gaze. "I wanted to find out what you were up to and I wanted to spare Randi the ordeal of talking to you."

"Talking to me is an ordeal?"

"For Randi it would be. She doesn't need to listen to you plead your brother's case. I want to spare her any more hurt by any more Saxons."

"Your sister hurt my brother, too, Juliet. I've never seen Grant so strung out over anyone or anything."

Juliet sniffed. "If Grant loved Randi so much, then why would he go to Richmond with another woman two weeks before his wedding?"

"He wouldn't." Caine sat back down, frowning. "I know my brother. Grant has never been a deceitful, manipulative womanizer. Neither have I," he added with a sharp glance at Juliet.

"And I suppose all those photos of you and Grant with beauty contestants and Hollywood starlets and professional cheerleaders—the ones you have framed and hanging on the walls of your restaurant—I suppose those are all composite pictures? Because you and Grant have never—"

"I didn't say we haven't. . . uh, dated women. Of course we have. Hell, I'm thirty-four years old and Grant is thirty-three. We'd be pretty strange guys if we'd reached these ages without some . . . er, experience with the opposite sex. But we've never lied or cheated or hurt a woman. We've always been honest in our relationships. We never made promises or commitments. We always made it plain we wanted good times without serious involvement."

"Maybe you're both incapable of making a serious commitment. Grant certainly blew all the promises he made to Randi. Good-time Charlies like you and Grant should stick to the Good-Time Shirleys of the world!"

Caine heaved an exasperated sigh. "The point I'm trying to make—and the point you keep missing—is that Grant didn't break faith with Miranda. I know the facts seem incriminating, but ..." His voice trailed off and he stared into space. "Something just doesn't ring true, Juliet. I sense a setup."

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I think you've been watching too many nighttime soap operas on TV. We're not the Ewings and the Carringtons, Saxon. Who would want to cause trouble between Grant and Randi?"

Caine looked thoughtful. "The common thread running through the entire story seems to be"—he drew in his breath sharply—"my sister Sophia."

"Sophia?" Juliet stared at him, thoroughly taken aback. Had he made some wild accusation involving herself or Olivia, she would've laughed it off—or told him off! But for him to mention his own sister . . .

"Darla Ditmayer is the daughter of a friend of my mother's—and a friend of Sophia's as well. And Karen Wilbur, who called Miranda to report having seen Grant and Darla in Richmond, is Sophia's closest friend. It was Sophia herself who acted evasive over the telephone. And it was Sophia who told Bobby Lee Taggert that Grant was in Richmond with Darla."

"It's probably just a string of coincidences. Why would Sophia want to wreck her brother's engagement?" Juliet couldn't fathom such a thing. It was difficult enough to believe that Caine was making this accusation against his own sister!

"Maybe she didn't intend to wreck his engagement. Maybe she simply intended to cause a little misery for one of the Post triplets."

"But—but why?"

"My sister has a long list of grievances against you three dating back to your grade-school days. Being eight years older than Sophia, I was never much involved with her as a child, but I do recall her lamenting over how unfair it was that you Posts had been born a trio. You triplets always had a starring number in every dancing-school recital, you were always invited to every birthday party, you took up three places on the cheerleading squad, you took up three places at Mary Washington College, thus always eliminating Sophia ... or so she claimed."

Juliet stared at him, momentarily bereft of speech. She and her sisters had never given Sophia Saxon a thought, and Sophia had held a grudge against them for being born triplets all these years? "It's too bizarre!" she managed to say at last. "It's easier to believe that Grant went to Richmond for a fling with Darla Ditmayer."

"Not if you knew my brother as well as I know him." Caine frowned. "As well as your sister should have known him. She's displayed an appalling lack of trust in Grant. I don't know if she deserves another chance with him."

"She doesn't want another chance with him, Saxon."

Caine ignored her. "I'm going to have a little talk with my sister this afternoon. If she confirms my suspicions, I'll be in touch with you later, Juliet. I'm afraid it will be our job to get this engagement back on the track again."

"Our job? Why on earth would I want to help your lying, cheating brother get reengaged to my sister?"

"Because he isn't a liar and a cheat. I neglected to mention one small fact to you, Juliet. On the weekend two weeks before his wedding. Grant did go to Petersburg to buy produce, and our truck did break down, forcing him to spend the weekend there. We have dated sales receipts to prove it."

Juliet's eyes widened. "But—but even your mother said he was in Richmond."

"Probably because that's what Sophia told her. And you can bet Sophia didn't mention the Darla Ditmayer part to Mom. There would've been too many questions asked."

"Does your mother hate us too?" Juliet asked quietly.

Caine shook his head. "No. She was quite pleased when Grant and Miranda got engaged. Another thorn in Sophia's side, I guess."

Juliet sank down onto the sofa. "I can't believe Sophia would do anything so—so wicked."

"You were quick enough to believe the worst about Grant," Caine pointed out. "You owe him, Juliet. You owe him the chance to clear himself with your sister." His face darkened. "Of course, there's always the risk that Grant won't want Miranda back. I know I wouldn't want a woman who had so little faith in me."

"You don't understand," Juliet cried, quick to leap to her sister's defense. "It was as much a lack of faith in herself that made her believe Grant didn't want her. Randi has always been insecure about herself as 'an individual. She's always believed that people were only interested in her because she was an identical triplet. She couldn't believe that Grant Saxon—a big, handsome, rich pro football player—would actually want her! She thought he merely wanted to be seen with a Post triplet, that any one of us would do."

"I remember Grant telling me about that. It frustrated the hell out of him." Caine flashed a sudden, devilish grin. "That and Miranda's virginity. But he got past both, didn't he? Her lack of self-confidence and her virginity."

Juliet blushed scarlet. "I should have known you big-time lady-killers would indulge in locker room—style boasting!"

"No boasting and no locker room, honey. I happened to stop by Grant's house one afternoon and found them—how shall I phrase it?—in a state of dishabille. Your sister was very relaxed and very content and very unvirginal."

Juliet's blush deepened. "Will you kindly shut up?" she said crossly. "Grant had no business telling you Randi was a virgin in the first place."

"He needed to talk to someone about it, and we've always been close. Hey, I've never mentioned it to a soul until now."

"You make it sound like some kind of ... of abnormality!" She glowered at him, her tone defensive. "Like some deep, dark family skeleton."

Caine stared at her assessingly, then his eyes suddenly widened with astonished perception. "Good Lord, don't tell me that you're one too!"

"That's none of your business, Saxon!"

"You are, aren't you? You're a virgin!"

"It's not a crime. I'm not ashamed to admit it."

"But you're blushing," he pointed out. "Your face is as red as a boiled lobster."

"Your imagery leaves a lot to be desired, Saxon." She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.

"I think in terms of food. I run a restaurant, remember? How about this one? Your cheeks are as red as a ripe persimmon. Pink as a watermelon? Or a cherry—No, I'd better stay away from that one, hadn't I?"

She leaped to her feet. "Saxon!"

He laughed. "You should blush more often, Juliet. It makes your eyes an even deeper, darker blue." He stood up, close to her, and gazed down at her. "You really do have the most vivid blue eyes I've ever seen. Sometimes they look almost violet." He swallowed hard. "Like now."

A sudden, sharp tension stretched between them. For one long moment everything in the background seemed to blur for Juliet as she and Caine stared at each other with an intensity and awareness that seemed to pulse as a tangible force.

No
, she thought grimly as she felt the tug of his attraction and fought against it. His powerful frame and rugged good looks exuded a compelling virility that most women would find irresistible, she knew. Had already found irresistible, judging by the number of framed photos in the Saxon brothers' restaurant. She had no intention of joining his legion of female admirers. She wasn't about to be the second Post to fall for a Saxon. Look at how disastrously things had turned out for Randi!

Oh, no,
Caine warned himself sternly as he struggled against the potent force of Juliet's beauty. She was lovely, slender but with delicate curves accentuating her soft, feminine form. And her eyes ... A man could lose himself in those big blue-violet eyes of hers. But he wasn't about to become the next Saxon to be tied in knots by a Post. She was a triplet—and a virgin! The combination had proven lethal to his brother's freedom and peace of mind. Caine Saxon was not about to become similarly ensnared!

Juliet was the first to break the charged silence. "If you've said everything you came to say, I suggest you leave, Saxon."

"Scared?" he taunted with a sardonic smile. "You needn't be. I have no interest in uptight little virgins."

"That's good. Because I have no interest in aging playboy athletes."

"I'm only thirty-four, for Pete's sake! That's hardly aging! And I'm not a playboy!"

"Well, I'm not uptight."

"Okay, okay. Look, Juliet, let's call a truce, shall we? We've both agreed that neither of us is susceptible to each other's . . . er, charms—"

"How true!"

Caine sent her a quelling glance and continued. "But we do share a common goal—to end Miranda and Grant's unhappiness." He heaved a weary sigh. "For our own sakes as much as theirs. I know I can't take much more of Grant's misery. He's carrying a torch as big as China for your sister and I feel for him. I really do. But last night he played 'Send in the Clowns' forty-three times in a row. One day he played it sixty-seven times. I counted," he added glumly.

Juliet couldn't help sympathizing with him.

"Randi has a whole stack of torchy, weepy songs she plays over and over again. Liwy and I call it music-to-commit-suicide-by."

"Things can't go on like this, Juliet. They've got to meet, to talk things over ..."

"Not if Grant really did spend a weekend in Richmond with Darla Ditmayer. If he did that, Randi's better off with her sad songs than with him."

"But what if Grant and Miranda are the innocent victims of some nasty little scheme of Sophia's?" Caine paused. "What then, Juliet?"