Authors: Elisabeth Naughton
She’d gone back to her office. Ran a search on Ryan Harrison, the man Simone had told her Annie Harrison had been married to. Felt sick over what she’d found. Of course, she’d seen his face plastered on the covers of
Fortune
and
Money
, and more recently, the tabloid magazines, but she hadn’t known much about him other than the fact he was incredibly attractive. Now she did. There were numerous reports on the Internet that he was a ruthless pharmaceutical CEO who had a reputation for aggressive corporate takeovers and for walking over anyone in his way on the road to success. The press dubbed him money-hungry and uncompromising. And he had a habit of sneering at the cameras whenever they got close. But he didn’t seem to mind being photographed with a different woman on his arm every weekend.
There was no way she would have been with someone like that. Money? Power? Fame? None of that mattered to her. Someone so obsessed with those things would never have been attractive to her. There was no way she would have been…
She swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to say the words, let alone think them. She’d
had
a husband. Jake. A wave of nausea rolled through her as she fingered the ring still on her left hand. It didn’t matter that Reed looked a little like this man. Everyone had a twin, right? Hadn’t Simone said that to her only hours ago?
Oh, man, this was a bad idea. She closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. What the hell was she doing here? She never should have come to San Francisco. She never should have gone to see Simone Conners. She never should have looked in that damn drawer.
She opened her eyes, scanned the affluent street. Enormous maple trees lined each side of the road in the Sausalito hills. Lawns sloped from one attractive home to the next, each property stately and more impressive than the last. This was a mistake. This wasn’t real. She needed to go before she made a complete fool out of herself.
She was just about to head back when the jingle of a bell sounded close. She looked up as a trio of young girls on bikes came whipping by.
The last girl slammed on her brakes as soon as she saw Kate. Her friends went sailing past, laughing, but she planted her feet and gripped the handlebars of her bike, then did that same damn I’ve-seen-a-ghost stare that Simone had done when Kate stepped into her office.
Kate swallowed hard. Every inch of her skin tingled like a thousand needles being stabbed into a pincushion. The face—the girl—she was the one from the picture.
She couldn’t leave now. She had to see. She had to
know
.
Fear rippled through her. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know what to do. But something pushed her forward. “Hi.”
“You,” the girl said, still staring wide-eyed at Kate. “You…you look like—”
“My name’s Kate. Are you Julia?”
“Yes.” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?”
“A friend told me.” The awkward silence and the way the girl continued to stare at her like she had a third head was more than Kate could bear. She glanced up the road. “I came to talk to your dad. Is he home?”
The girl jumped off her bike as if she’d just been slapped. “He’s not home. He can’t see you.”
Kate’s palms grew damp. “Wait—”
“Julia!” A male voice echoed from across the street. “Time to come in!”
The girl’s bike crashed to the ground. She sprinted across the pavement and up the path toward a stately, three-story house. A man was just stepping down off the porch. A man dressed in slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A man with blond hair and a devastatingly handsome face that didn’t even compare to the one Kate had seen in magazines or on the Internet.
A man, she realized as she drew in a sharp breath, who up close didn’t just look a
little
like her son. He looked
just
like him.
Chapter Five
Ryan’s adrenaline surged as Julia tore straight at him, her face a mix of fear and anger and heartache.
“What is it?” he asked as he dropped to one knee in front of her, gripping her shoulders and scanning her body to make sure she wasn’t hurt.
“I…go inside, Daddy. Go inside!”
“Julia, calm down. What’s wrong? Tell me what happened.” His gaze jumped past her, to her bike lying in the road. To the person standing in the middle of the street staring at them. To the woman who looked like…
The air whooshed out of his lungs. His knees turned to gelatin. “Oh, my God.”
“No, Dad!” Julia pushed against his shoulders, tried to force him back into the house as he slowly rose to his feet. “No, Dad. It’s not her. It’s not her, Daddy. It just looks like her. Please, Daddy, please. Look at me.”
His gaze dropped to Julia’s tear-streaked face. Panic filled her eyes, but it barely registered. With shaking arms, he lifted her out of his way then looked toward the brunette standing still as stone in the road. Watching him like he was watching her.
His head spun. His pulse raced. It couldn’t be.
He was vaguely aware of a car screeching to a halt next to the curb, of Mitch climbing out of his Land Rover, of Julia’s hysterical voice as she tried to pull him back into the house, but he couldn’t feel her hands. Couldn’t seem to stop his feet from moving forward. He felt like he was in a fog. A dream. Like he was hallucinating in broad daylight.
Somehow he made it down the block, stopped in front of her. Stared at her in shock. At his side he heard Mitch mutter, “Mother of God.”
No one spoke. For a long minute there was nothing but silence. And fear and hope and utter disbelief. And then his heart lurched in his chest.
“Oh, my God.” He closed the distance between them, cupped her face in his hands, ran his fingers over the smooth skin of her jaw. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a dream. Memories bombarded him from every side, condensed beneath his breastbone and squeezed as he soaked her in. As he felt her pulse beat beneath his fingers. As the heat of her body surrounded him to leave him foggy and light headed.
She was real. She was warm and soft and
alive
beneath his fingers. She was…Annie.
She stared into eyes. Recognition flared in the depths of those green gems. And that connection they’d had from the very start, from the first second they’d met so long ago, burned hot and bright, warming him in places he hadn’t even realized had gone cold.
All this time. All these years…
“Annie,” he whispered.
Her eyes darkened. The recognition fled. Was quickly replaced with confusion and…fear.
Before he could stop her, she jerked out of his arms, took a big step back. Held her arms out in a very clear don’t-touch-me move. “No.” She swallowed, looked from face to face with her brow drawn low, took another step away. “No, my name is Kate. Kate Alexander.”
Pain slashed through him. He tried to reach for her again, but Julia tugged hard on his arm, stopping him. “Dad, I told you it’s not her. It just looks like her. Dad, Daddy, listen to me. It’s not her.”
Not her? It had to be her. It had to be…
“Annie—”
She dodged his grip. And his heart felt like it shattered against the pavement at his feet. “I…I was hoping to ask you a few questions. I can see this isn’t a good time. I’ll just leave—”
“No!” Ryan and Mitch both said at the same time.
She jumped. Froze. Looked from face to face in bewilderment.
Holy God, it had to be her. It sounded like her. Ryan could never forget that voice. He didn’t know what the hell was going on but he didn’t want to scare her off. To keep from reaching for her, he scrubbed his hands over his face. Closed his eyes, shook his head, opened them again. She was still there. She wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
Why wasn’t she throwing herself into his arms? Why was she standing there looking at him as if he were a stranger?
“No,” Mitch said again, holding out his hands. “No, now’s fine.”
Her attention shifted his way. “Who are you?”
She didn’t know Mitch? She had to know her brother. She was Annie.
“Mitch Mathews. Ah, his brother-in-law.” Mitch nodded at Ryan. “Her…Annie’s…brother.”
Her brow wrinkled, then her green eyes grew wide. “Mitch Mathews. The geologist?”
A sly smile spread across Mitch’s mouth. “Yeah, same one.”
“Oh. Well.” A nervous look crossed her face. A face that Ryan now saw was different from what he remembered. Different but still familiar. “This is a little awkward. I, ah, I had no idea.” She ran a hand over her hair.
Ryan’s stomach tightened. It was the same unconscious gesture Annie always made when nervous.
“Me, either,” Mitch said. They studied one another for a minute. “I got your message.”
A rose tint stained her cheeks. “Well, you, ah, seemed a little fired up about the article. I guess I just responded…badly, I might say now, in light of the situation.”
Mitch grinned. Why the hell was he grinning?
“What are you two talking about?” Ryan asked, looking from one to the other. He felt like he was being hammered by prize-fighters from all sides, and they were acting like they knew each other. If Mitch had known Annie was so close and hadn’t told him—
“This is the editor, Ryan, the one I told you about. The one who wrote that article.”
Ryan looked back at her—at
his
Annie. At the woman who couldn’t be anything
but
his Annie. Why was she acting as if she didn’t know him? Why wasn’t she grabbing Julia, hugging her tight? Hugging
him
tight? Holding on to him like he needed to hold on to her?
As questions tumbled through his mind and he scanned her features again, he realized what looked different. Her nose was thinner, her cheekbones a little higher, and there was a scar near her temple he didn’t remember.
Editor. The one who wrote that article. Kate Alexander
.
His chest pinched tight. Was it possible this woman wasn’t Annie?
His mind skipped to the conversation he’d had with Mitch in his office, and confusion replaced shock. “The nut-job?”
“Excuse me?” She shot a glare his way.
Mitch laughed. “No, no. It’s nothing. Just a joke. Ah, this is a little awkward. You…you look a lot like my sister. We’re all a little flustered, I think.”
What the hell was Mitch saying? She was his sister. Wasn’t she?
“Why don’t we go inside,” Mitch suggested. “You can tell us what this is about. Come on.” He motioned for the house. She eyed Ryan with suspicion, then stepped well out of his reach and up next to Mitch.
Ryan turned, stared after her as they headed for the house. Tried to clear his head. Was it possible someone else could look so much like his wife? Sound like her? If she wasn’t Annie, what was she doing here? Was this some kind of sick joke?
The sway of her step caught his attention. And his heart took a hard, sharp roll. She was built just like Annie, same strong legs and perfectly toned ass. She even walked like her.
Fate could not be so cruel.
God
could not be this cruel. There had to be an explanation. Pain lanced through his chest, speared what was left. He’d listen to whatever she had to say for Mitch’s sake. Then she was gone. He couldn’t take this in-your-face reminder of everything he’d lost.
He followed them into the living room where the leather couches Julia had helped him pick out formed an L-shape. She stood in the center of the room, staring out at the skyline of San Francisco for several seconds, then turned and glanced around the room. He didn’t know what she was looking at—or for—but as her gaze swept over the photos of Julia, of Mitch, of Annie, Ryan’s patience reached a tipping point.
Julia tugged on his arm, whispered, “Daddy” in a pleading voice, but he ignored her.
“Why are you here, Ms…what was your name again?”
She visibly jolted, then turned to face him, and from the way her green eyes widened, he knew the shock was gone from his face and had been replaced with the ice he felt inside. The ice he’d built up over the years just so he could survive.
He watched her pull up some invisible shield, watched her eyes harden as if she were looking at a complete stranger. As if the connection they’d shared in the street had never happened. “Your wife died in a plane crash, about five years ago, is that right?”
When he didn’t answer, she added, “And she died here in San Francisco. Is that correct?”
“You already seem to know the answers to these questions. Why are you here?” he asked again.
“A year and a half ago, I was in an accident that landed me in a coma.” She lifted her hand, rubbed at a spot on the side of her head. “When I woke up in a Dallas hospital, I couldn’t remember the accident or anything about my life before it. The doctors said the trauma did something to my long-term memory. Retrograde amnesia, they called it. I’d been told I was in a car accident. But now, I’m not so sure.”
“Why not?” Mitch asked, watching her closely too.
She glanced his way. “My husband died in that plane crash here a few weeks ago. After, when I was going through some of his papers, I found evidence that suggests I was in a nursing home here in San Francisco during that coma, not in Texas like I’d been led to believe. And that the coma had lasted close to three years, not four days. I’m not sure why my husband lied, or what it all means, but I came here to San Francisco looking for answers. I went to see a lawyer today for advice. The woman recognized me, said I looked a lot like Anne Harrison.” She glanced back at Ryan. “Your wife.”
Ryan’s head spun, and his pulse beat so hard it was a roar in his ears. The story was ludicrous. Insane. No way it was real.
“Who was the lawyer?” Mitch asked.
“Simone Conners.”
Mitch’s eyes found Ryan’s. He knew what Mitch was thinking. But it couldn’t be her. Yeah, she looked a lot like her, but now that the shock was gone he could tell she wasn’t the same. Annie’s nose had been different, her cheeks not as sharp. Maturity could change a person’s face and shape, but it didn’t reshape bone structure. Besides which, Annie was gone. She’d died in that crash. They’d buried her. It didn’t matter that they’d never had a body. No one had survived that crash.