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Something Borrowed
Jule McBride


Personal trainer Mallory Benning walked down the aisle once impulsively, and it was a disaster. Little wonder she's exercising caution with the new man who's suddenly appeared in her life, gorgeous Cash Champagne. Why, she's even "borrowed" her twin sister's identity in order to scope him out!Mallory soon has her hands full with Cash. He's sexy, he's hot, he's all encompassing…. And yet she can't help thinking there's more to this smooth Southerner than appears. But when they hit the sheets together–big-time–she's ready to go for it. Can a whirlwind wedding be far off?









“Are you okay?” Cash murmured


Marley winced. “Not really. Uh…I guess it’s because we’re about to have sex.”

He studied her a minute. “We don’t have to.”

She stared back, making him smile by saying, “Uh, yes, we do.” And it was true. Neither of them would sleep until they’d satisfied their curiosity. “I’m just nervous.”

“Me, too.”

Maybe. But Marley didn’t think Cash looked all that nervous. “It must be performance anxiety,” she said, trying to make light of it.

His dark eyes sparkled as he pulled her close. “Yours or mine?”

Her jaw dropped. “Yours, of course.”

He grinned. “Let me get this straight. You’re afraid you’re going to regret the best sex of your life….”

The tension in the room suddenly seemed palpable. Marley wanted to fast forward through all the groping and divesting of clothes. Truly, there was nothing worse than first-time sex, she thought.

But what if it did turn out to be the best sex…?


Dear Reader,

Since the early nineties I’ve been very lucky to have been able to write for so many Harlequin series, including Love & Laughter, American Romance, Intrigue, Blaze and Temptation, as well as to pen what’s been called the BIG APPLE series, which has included miniseries such as BIG APPLE BACHELORS and BIG APPLE BABIES.

These books are close to my heart, especially since I make my home in Manhattan, and I have made my writing home, for some time, at Harlequin Blaze and Harlequin Temptation, which now brings you BIG APPLE BRIDES.

I do hope you’ll enjoy watching the three Benning sisters grapple with a wedding curse that’s wreaked havoc with their love lives. It’s my greatest wish that they provide everything for which the much-loved Temptation series has always been known: sassiness, humorous fun, a fast pace and a heartwarming happily-ever-after.

Enjoy!

Jule McBride




Books by Jule McBride


HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

866—NAUGHTY BY NATURE

875—THE HOTSHOT* (#litres_trial_promo)

883—THE SEDUCER* (#litres_trial_promo)

891—THE PROTECTOR* (#litres_trial_promo)

978—BEDSPELL

HARLEQUIN BLAZE

67—THE SEX FILES

91—ALL TUCKED IN


Something Borrowed

Jule McBride






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Shlomo Nudel, for being a voice of reason in the wilderness




Contents


Prologue (#ucebb7965-caff-5bf6-86c4-0e359bdc84c1)

Chapter 1 (#ufc412d16-e334-51b7-90c7-e45c1ab029b9)

Chapter 2 (#u426643f2-a9a4-598e-bb9c-4a177ccfd2fd)

Chapter 3 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)




Prologue


SPARKY DARDEN’S DAUGHTER, Julia, had fluffed his pillows, propping them against the headboard, just the way Sparky liked them, and she’d left a silver-wrapped square of chocolate on the coverlet like those left nightly on pillows of Darden hotels all over the world. As Sparky unwrapped the candy and popped it into his mouth, he reclined.

At the moment, he felt forty years old, not sixty-eight, and his cancer, which had gone into remission, wasn’t worrying him in the least. As he ran his fingers through the remaining strands of silver hair left after chemo, he used his other hand to fish into the pocket of a crimson robe for the remote; he was tired of watching late-night infomercials, a habit acquired during his illness, so he switched to the VCR and hit Play.

Since the threats against Julia began, Sparky had watched this tape many times. Taken fourteen years ago by a security camera at the Long Island estate Sparky now called home, it was grainy and dark, so the figure racing across Sparky’s lawn looked scarcely visible. The guy had been clever, breaching security, blackening his face and dressing in dark clothes. After locating the switch plates inside the estate’s gates, he’d extinguished almost all the lights. Cameras and alarms were everywhere, and with the exception of a wooded area between the house and a two-lane rural highway, fencing surrounded the property, but he’d been determined, climbing the fence, hurdling flower beds, dodging hedges and circling statuary. After reaching the veranda steps, he’d climbed stealthily, his body moving like a dancer’s.

Inside, everyone had been shouting in confusion, trying to turn on the lights. Funny, Sparky thought now. He should have suspected foul play, since he’d made countless enemies in the course of his career, but he’d thought there was a power outage. “Nothing’s wrong,” he’d assured.

When he’d opened the door, though, a flashlight’s beam from inside had glanced off steel. Just as air had whooshed across his exposed neck, he’d jumped back, realizing the wind had been the wake of a knife meant to slit his throat. And then he’d seen the eyes through the ski mask—dark and full of hate, as if the man had been fantasizing about this confrontation for years.

Sparky had lived, of course. Since starting Darden Enterprises, he’d survived murder attempts, near bankruptcy, paternity suits and slander, not to mention his own loneliness. The latter was like a gaping mouth inside him, and no matter what Sparky had fed it over the years—wine, women or song—he’d never felt filled. Always on to life’s next conquest, he’d needed more sex, more money, more accolades. At least until he’d gotten the big C, and he’d survived that, too.

After rewinding the video, he watched once more as the shadowy figure reached to his waist, unsnapped a sheath and pulled out the knife. After that, the black-clad man leaned, lifted the door knocker and let it fall.

Had fourteen years really passed since that night? They seemed lost in a blur of champagne fountains, caviar and high-heeled women who’d been half Sparky’s age. In his mind’s eye, he always saw himself stepping from private planes, buying expensive suits, or cutting ribbons at hotels, new ventures that always signified a business deal where someone else got screwed in the end. He’d made so many enemies. The man who’d come to kill him that night was only one.

Sparky’s daughter by the only woman he’d married was the bright light in it all. He’d lay down his life for her and his enemies knew it. Did the man in the video still hold a grudge? Finally, after all these years, a private eye had gotten close to discovering who he was, but would they actually locate him before Julia’s upcoming wedding? And should Sparky tell Julia’s bodyguard, Pete Shriver, about this old video, or wait until the P.I. found the man? This piece of dirty laundry wasn’t one Sparky wanted to air, after all. The man’s vendetta had been too personal….

Which was why Sparky had let him go. Now he damned himself for showing uncharacteristic mercy. Why hadn’t he treated his near-killer to the same ruthlessness he employed in business?

And was the past really coming back to haunt him? Was the man about to call again, drawn by Julia’s highly publicized wedding? Wishing he hadn’t pushed to give his daughter the wedding of the year, Sparky dragged his fingers thoughtfully over his scalp. Julia was so in love with her fiancé, Lorenzo Santini, that she’d have happily eloped. Maybe Sparky should have let her.

“Julia,” he whispered on a sigh. By insisting on such a large wedding had he made his daughter a target?




1


STOP THE WEDDING or the bride will die.

Lifting her gaze from the letter on the boardroom table, wedding planner Edie Benning glanced at Emma Goldstein, a writer from Celebrity Wedding magazine, then toward Julia Darden, but the bride-to-be only continued kissing her fiancé. Julia and Lorenzo weren’t the brightest couple, but their passion could melt Siberia. Still, Edie was surprised when they didn’t stop kissing to voice concern for their safety. Not that Edie would mention it, since Julia’s daddy, Sparky, CEO of the Darden hotel empire, had given Edie carte blanche to create New York’s best-ever wedding, an event that could make her a real player in Manhattan wedding-planning circles.

The responsibility would have been daunting under any circumstances, but as Julia’s bodyguard, Pete Shriver, slid another letter across the table, Edie felt her dream of building a business slipping through her fingers.

“Someone wants to put a damper on the wedding,” Pete announced, “so we’re going to tighten security around Julia.”

Edie just hoped Pete wouldn’t suggest the couple nix the celebration and elope for safety reasons. The couple was still making out, and since Edie’s love life sucked, the smoochy-face was hard to take. During the month since she’d started dating a guy from New Orleans named Cash Champagne, Cash hadn’t even tried to progress things beyond their few lackluster kisses. It was the sort of thing that made Edie feel sure her Granny Ginny wasn’t telling tall tales; clearly, just as her sisters Marley and Bridget had always believed, and as Granny had proclaimed, the Bennings really were victims of a wedding curse.

“From now on, Edie,” Pete was saying, “Marley needs to give Julia her morning workouts at the Darden estate. Julia and Lorenzo were already in the city, so they could meet us tonight, but until we catch whoever’s sending the letters, Julia should stay in Long Island. We found out the guy’s mailing the letters from a box on East Ninety-Sixth Street, so hopefully, we’ll catch him soon….”

“I’m sure Marley won’t mind coming to the estate.” At least Edie hoped not. But who knew? Edie had done everything to help her twin get back on her feet after her divorce, including giving Marley this opportunity to be Julia Darden’s personal trainer, but Marley, who’d become hopelessly cynical since her divorce, hadn’t even said thank you.

The rest of the family made up for it. Edie’s father, Joe, was catering the affair, and her mother, Viv, a seamstress, was making gowns; Edie’s youngest sister, Bridget, worked at Tiffany’s and was producing ring designs. Despite the excitement, Marley kept saying Edie’s luck in landing this assignment was too good to be true. No man as wealthy as Sparky Darden would take a chance on an unknown such as Edie, Marley had argued.

Ever since her divorce, she’d been difficult, especially when it came to accepting help from Edie. She also distrusted anyone Edie dated, something Edie understood since Marley’s ex had wiped out the funds from Marley’s fitness club, Fancy Abs, putting Marley out of business. As far as Edie was concerned, the end of the marriage had been brutal, even by the high standards set by other Benning-sister breakups. Yes, when it came to marriage, the Bennings were definitely cursed….

Edie cast a glance at Emma Goldstein, who was taking notes, and continued, “At Big Apple Brides, we’ll do everything to ensure Julia’s safety.”

“It’s appreciated,” Pete returned. “The letters have been coming since October when the wedding was announced.”

Edie frowned. “You weren’t worried then?”

“We stepped up security, but with the wedding so close…”

Six months wasn’t enough time to plan, but Julia would only agree to the April date, now three months away. As near as Edie could tell, the heiress would elope tomorrow, but she hadn’t done so because she wanted to please her father.

“Go ahead with your plans, Edie,” encouraged Pete. “My guess is Julia’s not the real target. Probably, the letters are from an old business rival of Mr. Darden’s, someone hoping to cast a cloud over the big day, but who doesn’t want to hurt Julia. Most perpetrators with serious intent don’t pussyfoot around like this. And Sparky will be the first to admit he’s made enemies. We need to take more precautions, though.”

“I didn’t mention it, but…”

Pete’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Edie shook her head, thinking she was being paranoid. “Maybe I’m just nervous, but in the past few days, I’ve felt…as if someone might be outside the shop watching me….”

“Hudson Street stays busy.”

Edie cast a glance toward the conference room’s open door, the windows and crowded street. Despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but congratulate herself. Her business was impressive. No one would guess the Bennings had redone the interior of Big Apple Brides themselves, the women painting while Joe carpeted the floors and built shelves that were now lined with wedding books.

The windows were her mother’s idea. On one, the words Big Apple Brides were painted in gold. Draped with satin swags, both glassed cases brimmed with wedding items: champagne glasses, a hope chest, garters and bouquets. A winged mannequin wore a gown of white feathers, a bed waited in invitation, and roses were strewn across the floor. The effect was pure fantasy, inviting couples to create their ultimate dreams. Not that the ambiance had done anything for Edie’s love life, of course. How could it, she thought with a sudden rush of pique, when a century-old curse ensured failure in the area of romance?

Pushing aside the thought, she stared at the corner of Hudson and Perry Streets. “The street’s especially busy now,” she continued. It was late January, but after-Christmas shoppers were still combing stores for sales.

“I’ll have a man check in with you once a day. Okay?”

Nodding, Edie glanced toward the bride, who was shooting Lorenzo a dazzling smile. Julia was beautiful. Taller than average and model-slender, she had brown eyes, a clear complexion and an unusually wide mouth. Despite being camera shy, her looks had made her a media darling. Lorenzo was no slouch, either. The pro hockey player could have body-doubled for Benicio Del Toro.

Months ago, the lives of the rich and famous had been the furthest thing from Edie’s mind; her main focus had been opening the wedding boutique and involving her family members. All the Bennings knew this was Edie’s way of counteracting the curse. Years ago, Edie had thought Granny Ginny was only being entertaining, of course, but as time wore on, Edie had never fallen in love, Marley had divorced, and their youngest sister, Bridget, had actually applied to the Guinness Book of World Records, hoping to be recognized for having survived the most bad dates in Manhattan.

Edie was sure that sending good wedding karma into the Universe by planning weddings would turn the tide for the Benning sisters, and so far, things seemed positive. Even if the chemistry wasn’t right, at least she’d gotten some dates with a real hunk, right? And while her relatives weren’t technically employees, they’d begun to offer their skills, which meant Edie now had talented, trustworthy subcontractors at her fingertips.

“At least you got a restraining order for Jimmy Delaney,” Emma was saying, addressing the next order of business.

Since the wedding announcement, Julia had become a magnet for paparazzi, and Jimmy Delaney was the most persistent photographer. Pete looked proud of himself. “Yeah.”

“Only photographers from Celebrity Weddings can cover the event,” reminded Emma. “We have the exclusive.”

“Delaney won’t get near the estate,” Pete assured.

“Lighten up!” Julia interjected with a laugh, breaking a kiss and pulling her gaze from Lorenzo with difficulty. “I thought this was supposed to be a wedding!”

Lorenzo leaned over, tugging the bill of a baseball cap Julia wore with old jeans and a sports-logo sweatshirt. She’d draped a Gore-Tex jacket around the back of her chair. His eyes never leaving hers, Lorenzo said, “Let’s start talking hearts and flowers. If I don’t marry this lady soon, I really will die.” Crossing a finger over his heart, he shot everyone a lovesick expression.

Edie smiled. “You’re in luck, Lorenzo. I brought more tapes for review. And about the ring.” She slid drawings toward the couple. “We’re hoping you’ll approve….”

“You need to decide,” urged Emma. “Our next article appears soon, and while readers have loved sharing the pressures of a rushed celebrity wedding, they want to see results.”

“The wedding’s going to be amazing,” assured Julia.

Not if she didn’t choose the music, thought Edie uneasily. And the ring. On so many other points, Julia had been amiable. The cake she’d approved was a design Edie had initially conjured for her own fantasy wedding. The traditional gown was perfect, and the pink roses twined with lavender glass beads. Edie just wished the wedding wasn’t in April. The wedding and reception were at the estate, and Edie didn’t know what to expect—a blizzard or spring rain.

Julia gasped. “Look, Lozo.” Lozo was her pet name for Lorenzo.

Unbidden, Edie’s heart pulled. These two were so in love that they’d marry happily with no ceremony, much less a ring. Lorenzo had proposed with a pop-can lid, now silver-plated and hanging from a chain around Julia’s neck. It would be on Julia’s finger if Sparky hadn’t insisted that his daughter have a diamond.

Edie still couldn’t understand why Julia had rejected the first designs. While Big Apple Brides really wasn’t officially a family business, Edie’s relatives were helping with the Darden wedding, a trend Edie hoped would continue since she was picking up clients daily, and she really appreciated how Bridget had gone the distance.

Working around her hours as a clerk at Tiffany’s, Bridget, the youngest sister, had put her heart and soul into the ring design, and the initial offering had wowed even Marley, which was saying something. Sure that Julia would be impressed, Bridget had commissioned a model made of cubic zirconia, but Julia had rejected it, after all, and now Bridget was wearing the ring, which was sort of pathetic, Edie decided. Just as determined as Edie to counteract the wedding curse, it was as if Bridget had placed an engagement ring on her own finger….

“This is it,” Julia announced.

The ring wasn’t as beautiful as Bridget’s first design in Edie’s opinion, but it was impressive, as was Lorenzo’s band. “The diamonds will be of the best quality,” Edie assured. “Set at Tiffany’s.”

Julia flashed a grin. “Great!”

“Oh,” cut in Emma. “Before I forget. Since you’re going on Rate the Dates after this meeting, Edie, I want Celebrity Wedding’s photographers to meet you at the studio. Okay?”

Edie wondered what to say. Just days after she’d been hired by the Dardens, Celebrity Weddings had phoned, asking for exclusive rights to cover the wedding. In turn, Edie had broached the subject with the Dardens, feeling sure they’d decline, only to find that Sparky was ecstatic. Despite Julia’s camera-shyness, he wanted her to have the documentation of her special day forever. Well and good. But one thing had led to another, and Celebrity Weddings—which had been a bit pushy—wanted Edie and Cash, a man she’d only casually dated, to appear on a nationally televised reality show called Rate the Dates.

“Just audition, Edie,” Emma had urged at the time. “It’s a promotional thing and you can always cancel. Since it’s a weekly show and airs live, they have alternates waiting in the wings.”

On the show, newly acquainted couples were videotaped during dream dates in Manhattan while a studio audience and two-person judging panel rated their likelihood of sharing a future. So the audience could see how well it had judged, each show included a segment called “Where Are They Today?” By generating interest in Edie’s love life, Celebrity Weddings hoped to boost circulation for the issues covering Julia and Lorenzo, and when the idea was initially broached, Edie decided to do it, since she might get new clients.

But then she’d come to her senses. After all, the Benning sisters were affected by a wedding curse, something proven by their lifelong histories of bad dates, which meant Edie’s appearance on Rate the Dates could backfire. If Julia’s wedding was somehow tainted, Edie would never forgive herself.

Feeling a rush of guilt, Edie told herself she was being ridiculous. Surely curses couldn’t rub off on third parties. Still, from a practical standpoint, it was better not to complicate matters by focusing on her own romantic life while planning this wedding. She didn’t need any distractions, which was another good reason to quit dating Cash Champagne.

Yes…she’d concentrate on only one wedding—Julia’s. When it came off perfectly, that would prove to Granny Ginny and Edie’s sisters that the Benning name was to be associated with marital bliss—not tales of spinsterhood.

“Emma,” Edie said with conviction. “I’ve thought about it, and I’m going to cancel. As you say, Rate the Dates always has alternates.” Deciding not to mention the unpromising, dry-as-dust kisses she’d shared with Cash, Edie added, “Cash and I only dated a month.”

“That’s the point,” argued Emma. “Contestants get to know their dates while America watches!”

Edie hardly wanted America to witness her and Cash’s lack of passion on TV. Besides, as far as her sisters went, any failure would be interpreted as proof that they were cursed and never likely to marry. “No, I really can’t appear.” Refusing to consider the show’s hefty grand prize, a sum that would help with the overhead at Big Apple Brides, Edie continued, “Marley’s going to let Cash know.”

She wished she’d been able to track him down herself, but the man was definitely elusive. And the way the day had progressed, ending in this impromptu meeting, finding him had been impossible. Frowning at her watch, she wondered if Marley had succeeded yet, and then why her twin had been so unusually helpful. Since her divorce, Marley had viewed men suspiciously, but today, she’d seemed almost eager to help Edie find Cash. Well, maybe it was because Edie had decided not to appear with him on Rate the Dates, despite the sizable grand prize….

AS SHE APPROACHED Rockefeller Center and NBC, Marley tried to ignore the fact that the hike uptown had made her thirsty, and she wished she had time to stop for water, but she didn’t. Catching a glimpse in Saks’ window, she barely recognized herself. Was she really wearing press-on nails, sheer pantyhose that couldn’t protect her legs from the biting wind, and black pointy-toed come-love-me heels that were cutting off circulation from her toes to her hips and probably damaging her sciatic nerve?

Her usually curly hair was blown out straight—her arms ached from an hour’s work with the hair dryer—and because she was wearing a fur coat, her twin’s pride and joy, she’d already been accosted by an animal rights activist who’d followed her from West Fourth to Thirty-Fourth Street station, educating Marley about the trials and tribulations of being a mink.

Marley had finally lost her temper and explained that she was only human, which meant she didn’t feel competent to speak for minks. However, she could definitely say it wasn’t easy being her. She’d proceeded to tell the activist about the wedding curse that had ruined her marriage, offering details about her divorce before bringing the man up to the present, explaining that she was impersonating someone else right now, so this wasn’t even her coat. Besides, the coat wasn’t mink, she’d informed him, but beaver, and it had been bought by her sister secondhand, so her sister wasn’t responsible for an animal death, at least not directly.

The coat was hanging over an itchy red-wool suit that reminded Marley of why she favored clothes made of cotton. As it turned out, that was something she and the man had in common, and on that basis, he’d asked for a date, but Marley had declined, quickly reminding him of the wedding curse. As much as she missed sex and romance, the curse was a reality—her divorce proved that—so she really did feel compelled to swear off men forever.

Now she just hoped she could help Edie. She definitely looked like her now; before she’d left the West Village where her parents and Edie lived, she’d passed the deli, the drop-off laundry and a restaurant where the Bennings often ordered takeout, and no one had seen through the disguise.

Still, she was second-guessing her plan to show up at NBC and fool Edie’s latest boyfriend into thinking she was Edie. “But you don’t have a choice,” Marley reminded herself, licking at lips that felt like cotton. She had to stop her sister from making a devastating mistake, such as the one Marley had made when she’d married Chris Lang. Edie was too much of a romantic to see through Cash Champagne’s surface charm….

And Cash definitely had some ulterior motive in dating Edie. Not only did Cash Champagne sound like a stage name worthy of a Broadway show, but he didn’t seem to have reliable employment, either, just like Marley’s ex-husband, Chris. And his looks were too good to be true, at least judging from the few times Marley had seen him. He did, however, seem to be from New Orleans—his accent indicated that was the truth—but the way he’d appeared in the Bennings’ lives was fishy, so Marley just wanted the chance to probe deeper into his background than Edie seemed willing to do….

Marley lowered her head as she crossed Fifth Avenue, holding her stiff hair-sprayed locks in place with both hands and keeping her eyes glued to the pavement, hoping one of Edie’s high heels wouldn’t catch in a subway grate and send her sprawling. No, poor Edie just didn’t get it. She was still such a romantic fool.

While Marley didn’t want to be condescending, she couldn’t help but feel her twin—who was older by two minutes—was really years younger. Despite the wedding curse that Granny Ginny had said ensured their failure in romance, everything remained hearts, flowers and happy endings for Edie. She still fantasized about the perfect wedding day—the sun shining, spring flowers blooming, a tall, dark, handsome man who looked like Cash Champagne waiting at the end of the aisle….

Oh, Marley and Edie might not hang around together as much as they used to, and they’d always had different friends, but Marley would hate to see her twin get hurt. She felt a pang in her chest as she visualized Big Apple Brides’ display windows and thought of the loving care that Edie, not to mention all the Bennings, had put into the business, despite the fact that none of the sisters were destined for success in love.

Only Marley had made the mistake of marrying. Refusing to give credence to old family stories, she’d seen her love for Chris Lang as proof the curse didn’t exist. Only a year ago, while signing divorce papers, had she smelled the coffee. Obviously, Granny hadn’t been spinning wild yarns as the sisters had sometimes hoped, and until this curse was resolved, Marley, Edie and Bridget were destined to be alone. For that reason, Marley was glad her elderly relative was coming in from Florida this week. Now that she took the curse more seriously, maybe Marley and her sisters could ask Granny Ginny how to rectify matters.

As things stood, Cash Champagne was just one more heartbreaker who’d wind up harming Edie. Not that Marley cared about her own love life any longer. What was the use? In fact, she wanted as little to do with weddings as possible, which was why she wished she had any other option besides working as Julia Darden’s fitness trainer.

Fortunately, Marley had almost rebuilt the clientele she’d had when Chris depleted their joint bank account, and she’d had to close her spa center, Fancy Abs. As difficult as it was to listen to Julia’s deluded chatter about gowns and crystal, Marley always refrained from reciting divorce statistics since she desperately needed the job. She was working in clients’ apartments right now, and unless she could open a commercial space soon, people would switch to the new fitness franchises springing up all over Manhattan.

Bitter air hit the back of her throat, making her even thirstier as she wrapped Edie’s coat more tightly around herself and headed past the Sea Grill restaurant. Silently, she damned her throat for feeling so achy. She really didn’t have time to stop for something to drink, and if the truth be told, a martini was starting to sound better than a bottle of Evian. She heaved a sigh. Why did Edie always wear short skirts? And such sheer hose? Her sister was so impractical!

A month ago, when six feet of pure temptation had waltzed into Edie’s life calling himself Cash Champagne, Edie had taken that as a positive sign. At least at first. Admittedly, he was a dream to look at, his body big and hard with muscles, his dark eyes always squinting as if he were staring into sunlight, his lips curling into absent smiles as if to say he’d seen it all and nothing surprised him. Not exactly the kind of man who dated women slated to be old maids.

But what was wrong with being single, anyway? Marley suddenly fumed. Throughout history, countless women traversed the years when, as Florence Nightingale had put it, “forever turned into never.” The Bennings were hardly the first. Many “bachelor girls” wound up happier, able to concentrate on their own life goals. Which was what Marley intended to do….

When she, Edie and Bridget had met Cash last month in an East Village comedy club, Marley had reacted on a purely physical level, of course. In fact, when he’d sent a round of drinks, then headed toward their group, she’d been sure her smile had lured him. Just as she was kicking herself for flirting accidently, the low, sexy rumble of his voice had helped bring her to her senses, reminding her of her divorce, and everything that she’d gone through in the past year.

Luckily, the following morning, she’d scheduled a workout with a TV executive who could refer more clients, so she’d been unable to stay at the club and seduce Cash. She did remain long enough to realize he’d never even heard of the feminist stand-up act—a local talent. He’d seemed out of place, too, a lone man surrounded by a female audience enjoying jokes about hair loss, penis size and men’s bizarre relationships with their electronic equipment.

Because the dingy pub—an old speakeasy sandwiched between buildings on Avenue A—would have been impossible for a tourist to find, Marley couldn’t figure out how Cash had come to be there, especially since he’d had no interest in comedy or the performer, and he knew no one. He wasn’t drinking alcohol, either, only club soda, which seemed odd, since he’d said he’d gotten his start as a bartender, then worked his way up to owning his own clubs, and Marley had never met a teetotaling bartender.

He’d chuckled at appropriate places, but his eyes had remained veiled, maybe even calculating, and Marley had gotten the impression he was deciding which sister he’d like to know, rather than letting events take their natural course. For some reason, she’d found herself imagining a scenario in which he’d followed them to the club, intending to pick up one of them….

Surely, she was wrong. And yet she’d wound up concluding that something was up his sleeve. Edie would say that was only because Marley’s breakup with Chris had scarred her emotionally. Now she thought back, trying to remember if she’d seen Cash before their meeting in the pub. Had he been in a deli? A café? No matter how often she’d replayed that night, picturing herself and her sisters meeting at their parents’ apartment, walking to Seventh Avenue and catching a cab to the East Side, she couldn’t remember seeing him on the street….

Cash had quickly passed on Marley as a prospect, though. She did remember that clearly. When she’d said she was leaving, he’d turned his attention to Bridget, who was the most obvious of the sisters, the one men always looked at first. Her outfits were flashier and her voice louder, probably because she’d felt left out when they were kids, overshadowed by twin sisters who had—at least back then—been inseparable. But Bridget had been talking to a friend on her cell, which meant Cash’s attention had shifted once more, this time to Edie, who was clearly wowed by his looks.

That was when Marley had left. Now, all she knew was what she’d gleaned from her tight-lipped sister who hadn’t divulged much except that Cash was a lousy kisser. Given his devil’s grin, dripping dark locks and swaggering walk, Marley had figured him for a ladies’ man, the kind of guy who’d know how to make a woman feel like a woman.

“TMI!” Marley had protested when Edie had divulged the gossip about the kisses. “Too much information!”

“I know I should quit seeing him. There’s just no chemistry. But he’s so good-looking that I keep hoping…” Edie had paused. “Is being a bad kisser really a fatal flaw?”

“Yes!” exclaimed both Bridget and Marley in unison, and then Bridget had added, “but guys who look like that always get plenty of practice, so I just don’t get it.”

Marley had hesitated, unwilling to state the obvious, since it might spoil their good moods, but she had felt compelled to say, “The wedding curse. That must be it. Maybe he’s a great kisser, just not when he kisses one of us. Uh, you know, a Benning.”

Edie had groaned. “Don’t start with that again.”

“Marley does have a point,” Bridget had said, her blue eyes growing distant as if she were staring at a far-off partner whom she’d never really meet, face-to-face.

Now Marley winced at Edie’s watch as she pushed through a revolving door at NBC. Fifteen minutes until six, she thought. It was later than she’d imagined, almost the time Edie had been told to arrive at the studio. At least the timing ensured Cash would be here already.

But where? In the lobby, a line of people was preparing to be led upstairs, and judging from the signs they carried, they were the studio audience for Rate the Dates. Slipping past them, Marley headed for an open elevator, following directions Edie had given. When she reached an attendant wearing green slacks and a matching blazer, she announced herself, saying, “Edie Benning,” and then she watched in relief as the woman crossed her off a guest list.

“I’ll phone upstairs and tell them you’re finally here,” the woman said.

Finally? Marley thought a moment later as the elevator car ascended. The woman had made it sound as if Marley were late, but hadn’t Edie said to be here by six, since the show started at seven? Suddenly, Marley wished she’d asked for more information. Had Cash possibly changed his mind, anyway? After all, Edie had said alternates were always ready to go on, which meant last-minute cancellation wasn’t supposed to be a problem. Besides, Cash had been reticent about going on the air, anyway.

But what if he tried to strong-arm her into appearing for some reason? In that case, should she tell him she wasn’t Edie? Marley felt a sudden stab of panic. Should she have come earlier? Had Edie gotten her facts wrong? Swallowing with difficulty, since her mouth was still bone dry, Marley felt a rush of pique at Cash Champagne. As far as she was concerned, all this aggravation was his fault. If he’d answered his cell phone, Edie could have canceled herself. Men were all alike, Marley thought. So many never grew up, living long into adulthood at the center of their own little worlds….

Edie had been trying to call Cash all day, but he’d hardly cared that his unavailability might affect her, much less Marley who was now tracking him down. As soon as she’d spoken with Edie, Marley had meant to head straight to Cash’s supposed work site—a new Upper West Side club called the Plantation House, a fancy restaurant-bar he’d said he was opening with an old friend—but then she’d decided to disguise herself as Edie. She just wanted the opportunity to size him up at length, to make sure Edie wasn’t making a mistake by dating him.

Dressing had taken longer than anticipated. She and Edie had been born identical, but they’d evolved different tastes and lifestyles that, today, made them look more like sisters than twins. Because Marley had a slightly heavier, more muscular body from working out, not all Edie’s clothes fit, and even after she’d dressed, shoes remained a problem since Edie’s closet was organized with boxes bearing coded labels only she could understand. As far as Marley was concerned, you’d need a cryptanalyst from the CIA to decipher Edie’s closet. Just as Marley had found shoes, she’d realized she needed to clip her bangs if she was going to look like Edie….

In the end, the disguise was perfect. Unfortunately, that meant Edie’s neighbors had stopped Marley, wanting to chat. By the time she reached the subway, the animal rights activist had accosted her, and when she got out at Times Square, the afternoon’s beautiful dusting of snow had turned to sleet in the twilight, and she hadn’t been able to get a cab the rest of the way to Fiftieth.

“Just tell Cash I can’t be on the show,” Edie had said, making it sound so easy. “He won’t mind,” she’d assured. “To tell you the truth, I had to talk him into it. I was excited about it at the time. He didn’t even seem interested in the prize money.”

“Aren’t you?” Marley had asked, thinking about how she, herself, could use the money to start her fitness center.

Edie had hesitated. “Yeah,” she’d finally admitted. “But I don’t think I should go on the show. I mean, like I said, Cash and I don’t really seem to be clicking….”

Marley could see why Edie kept hanging on. The guy was gorgeous. But why was Cash still interested if there wasn’t any chemistry? When the elevator doors opened onto a hallway packed with people, there was no more time to ponder the question. Another woman in a green blazer and slacks, positioned at the elevator, said, “You are?”

“Mar—uh, Edie Benning.”

Just as she glanced around, looking for Cash, she felt a surprisingly strong hand close around her upper arm and when she glanced up, she was staring into the face of a tall man with short dark hair named Trevor Milane, whom she recognized as the host for the reality show. Not that Marley had actually seen a full episode of Rate the Dates, only ads for it, many of which were on public buses. Before she could introduce herself, the man, who looked astonishingly like Pierce Brosnan said, “Where have you been? Don’t you know our show is nationally televised? Oh, it doesn’t matter, just get back to costume.”

The hallway was so crowded, Marley could barely move, much less find a costume department. “I came to cancel,” she managed to say. “I need to find Cash Champagne.”

“Cancel?” Trevor growled, thrusting harried fingers through his dark hair as he spun abruptly and half dragged her down the hallway, wending around studio workers, his grip firm even when she tried to shake it off. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart,” he said gruffly, still pulling her along. “We air live, and there’s no time left.” He raised his voice. “Contestant six finally made it,” he called, his gravelly voice now turning magically soft in a heartbeat, the deep baritone almost as sexy as Cash Champagne’s. It was as if he’d said, “Open sesame.”

Double doors opened on the studio, and Marley’s jaw slackened as she stared into the insanity beyond. People were ducking and circling each other, carrying everything from legal pads to technical equipment; the same line of people she’d seen in the lobby were now being marshaled into studio seats by more women in green slacks and blazers.

Nearer, someone gasped and said, “Thank God she’s dressed.”

Someone else groaned. “Red will blend with the backdrop.”

Just as Marley realized they were talking about her suit, another disembodied voice hit her ears, saying, “Less than six minutes until airtime!” Her mouth still feeling like cotton, she started to ask for water, but her attention was diverted by still another voice, adding, “Trevor says to change the swivel chairs on stage to blue, not red. Otherwise, she’ll blend.”

Blend? God forbid. Reaching, Marley grabbed the first arm she could, the crowded space near the doors so thick with people that she wasn’t sure if the eyes into which she stared imploringly were really connected to the arm she held. “Look,” she managed to say. “It’s sounds as if you’re close to airtime, but I need to cancel. Uh…you said you had alternates. I was told to be here at six—”

“Exactly. Why weren’t you?”

She stared at Edie’s watch. “I was. I am. I mean—”

“Five until airtime!” said the voice.

“It’s seven o’clock, Ms. Benning. You’re an hour late,” someone else said.

Marley was pulling the watch to her ear. Sure enough, it had stopped. Her heart thudded in panic. She couldn’t appear on Rate the Dates, no way. “I need to find my…uh…date. His name’s Cash Champagne. There’s been a mistake.”

“Four minutes!”

How could time be flying so fast? Surely a minute hadn’t passed! As Marley drew a sharp breath, Edie’s coat was whisked from her shoulders. “Please,” she managed to say, fighting rising panic. “I need that coat.” Edie would kill her if she lost it.

No response came, but a bottled water was thrust into her hand. That she could use. Gulping, she felt the cool water slide down her throat as a sheet on a clipboard was put in front of her, and someone said, “Here, Edie. If you’ll just sign…”

Even though she thought it was rude to make contestants sign for drinks, especially water, she scribbled her sister’s name, took a deep breath, and said, “Thanks. I was thirsty.”

“Take these, too,” someone said, handing her a health bar just as a hand came over her shoulder.

“Two-sided tape,” another voice said behind her. “I’m attaching it to your blouse. It’ll hold the microphone.”

“Microphone?”

“At least she blow-dried her own hair,” someone said.

“According to the initial interview, she has natural curls.”

“That skirt’s too short, though. She can’t go on in that.”

“I’m not going on,” Marley said, beginning to realize that it was pointless to protest.

“Three minutes,” someone shouted.

“Your skirt’s really short, so make sure your knees are pressed together, Ms. Benning.”

The idea of exposing her panties to America sent another wave of panic through her system. Marley craned her neck toward the elevators, wondering if she should run. “Where’s Cash? I’ve got to talk to him.”

“All couples want to talk before the show,” another woman soothed. “But in just a minute, you’ll see him onstage—”

“No! I just came to—”

A woman moved quickly in front of her, unwrapped the health bar, tore off a piece and pushed it into Marley’s mouth, leaving Marley only one option—to chew and swallow, at least if she wanted to talk again. “Atta, girl,” said the woman. “For most contestants, eating right before you go on the air helps. Now smile. Let me check your teeth.”

This was becoming more surreal by the moment. “Please,” Marley managed to say. “I’m not going to be on your show. Now, if you don’t mind, I really have to talk to someone in charge.”

The only response was a comb. Someone behind her dragged it through her hair, then re-shellacked the locks with another wave of thick hair spray. Even worse, she felt someone grasp her hand and start to apply nail polish to Edie’s press-on nails, saying, “It won’t dry this close to airtime, but you can just rest your hands on your thighs.”

Was the woman out of her mind? Marley never painted her nails, so she was hardly practiced about how to let them dry while she was on TV. “What was wrong with them?” she asked.

“The color’s wrong for your suit. And this will make them look less like press-ons.”

“Please,” Marley said. “Just don’t put on the polish.” She’d never worn red polish in her life.

“All the other women are polished.”

But she wasn’t going onstage with the other women! The show was televised for a week! If she went on tonight, she imagined she’d be locked into the other shows, also. And she wasn’t even Edie. As Marley parted her lips to speak, an attendant started glossing them with something that smelled like strawberries. “You don’t seem to understand!” Marley managed to say futilely, frustration lifting her voice an octave.

“Two minutes!”

The words echoed in her mind. She had to get out of here. Straining her eyes past whoever was fiddling with the collar of her silk blouse, she glimpsed Edie’s watch again. How could this be? How could her efficient sister not have realized her watch had stopped? The hands hadn’t budged. As Marley lifted the watch to her ear, her wrists were spritzed with a scent that reminded her of spring rain. She simply couldn’t believe this. Marley’s hyper-organized sister actually took her watches to the jeweler biannually, just for a battery checkups.

Truly, she felt like Alice after she’d stepped through the looking glass. The hallway was still packed with people, too, and the scents of bodies, not to mention the cloying mix of perfumes and colognes, was making Marley’s stomach start to churn. Sheer hysteria was making her feel woozy, and her chest had constricted as if a vise had tightened around her rib cage.

The voice came again. “One minute!”

“Get her into the green room!”

“Please,” Marley said as someone pushed her from behind. “Just let me talk to Cash. I’m sure he doesn’t really want to be on the show, either.”

“Are you kidding?” the woman with the health bar soothed. “He’s waiting in the blue room where we put the men. He keeps asking if you’ve arrived.”

Marley considered fighting her way out, simply storming through the hallway, knocking aside whoever was in her path. She could, of course. She worked out all day. She was thoroughly hydrated, her muscles toned. She had stamina. But whatever she did would reflect badly on her sister, including announcing to the NBC staff that she wasn’t really Edie. Her own business had already folded, so she’d hate to see her sister’s meet the same fate.

Telling herself to stay calm, she took another deep breath as yet another door opened in front of her. Ah, she thought, the green room. Across the stage, she realized, was another large, boxlike room, which was blue; presumably the men were inside.

Here, the walls and floors were the color of Marley’s Italian bicycle, a sea-foam-green color the bicycle company had named Celeste. Wishfully thinking she was on her bike and pedaling out of here, Marley stared at the two women inside—a grinning, curvy woman with wild dark hair, and a tall, thin, square-jawed blonde, who was tanned and wearing all white.

Marley startled when the door of the green room shut behind her; only one of the attendants remained. As she began straightening the collar of the blond woman’s outfit, Marley wondered what to do next. She’d only seen snippets of this show, but she was familiar with the premise—contestants went on a week of dream dates while a studio audience judged whether the relationship would blossom into long-term romance. What had Edie been thinking? Would anyone—much less a woman affected by a wedding curse who was a proven failure at love—want her fledgling romance held up to scrutiny?

Oh, yes. She could definitely see why Edie wanted to cancel. Suddenly, relief flooded her. “You have alternates,” she said to the attendant who’d remained in the green room.

The woman only shook her head. “They left as soon as you got here.”

“Left?” Marley felt the floor being whisked from beneath her feet. For a moment, she couldn’t even find her voice. “W-what if a contestant has a heart attack right after she gets here?” she sputtered.

“You’re not having a heart attack, Edie,” the woman said flatly.

Vaguely, Marley was aware that the show was airing now. From inside the box, she couldn’t hear anything, but a small TV was affixed to the ceiling. Trevor Milane was addressing the studio audience. Her heart was racing, her mind whirling with confusion. She couldn’t go on a reality show dressed like her twin—especially not when she’d come here to break a date for her.

“Thirty seconds!”

Marley watched in panic as, on the mounted television, the door of the green box was opened by an attendant. The studio audience went wild, offering whistles and hoots while clapping their hands and stomping their feet. Her heart felt as if it were dropping to her feet. One of the many voices she’d just heard replayed in her mind. Just follow the lead of the other contestants. Knowing she had no other choice, Marley somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other, scarcely believing any of this was really happening. Only the wedding curse could have made her plan to impersonate Edie backfire this drastically, and she could only hope their parents weren’t watching….

“Welcome to Rate the Dates,” Trevor Milane was saying as she and the other women filed past. He really was incredibly good-looking, and Marley could only hope she’d stop noticing such things sometime soon. A smile that didn’t quit and a designer jacket had transformed the gruff man from the hallway into Mr. Charm, one of TV’s prime-time reality-show celebrities. While she’d only seen snippets of the show, and ads for it, she knew Trevor was a regular. Each week, he hosted with a young woman chosen from contestants around the country. Now, he was grinning at a cute, corn-fed blonde beside him, saying, “And now that the women are seated, we’re ready to bring in the lucky males.”

As Marley seated herself, time ground to a halt, and for a fleeting second, she felt it was the world, not Edie’s watch, that had stopped. And then everything started moving again, every sound in the studio impossibly loud.

Everything looked overly bright, too, garish and surreal. Bright blinding lights were in her eyes, so she couldn’t really see the audience, something she hadn’t anticipated. When she saw herself on a large, wall-mounted screen behind the hosts, her heart thudded harder. She really did look like Edie! While Edie wore her blond hair blown out straight, Marley usually kept hers in a disarray of waves. And while Edie favored tailored suits with designer labels, Marley wore ancient, ripped sweatpants and torn T-shirts looking, Edie always said, like a throwback from the movie Flashdance. Even their own mother said Marley’s outfits weren’t fit for the trash. Due to their stylistic differences, strangers never thought Edie and Marley were sisters, much less identical twins. But now…

Marley bit back another rush of panic as the men came closer. Her head was swimming, her tummy tumbling with butterflies. None of this was supposed to be happening. Even worse, if she tried to explain this to Edie, saying she’d meant to interrogate Cash, since she feared Edie couldn’t protect herself, Edie would be even angrier.

Her heart missed a beat. Her throat went dry again. And then the whole world slid sideways. For a second, she could swear she was about to faint. Instead, she managed to exhale another quick breath as Cash paused, almost missing a step, his gaze dropping seductively down the front of her dress, as if he were already playing for the cameras.

It was the wrong time to remember how his eyes had drifted over her in the comedy club. Or how he’d stared at her when she’d met him once more, inside Big Apple Brides, and yet another time when he’d offered her a ride in his truck, which she’d declined. Shaking her head, hoping to clear it of conclusion, she recalled how Edie had begged her to get new clothes for working out with Julia Darden, and Marley had. Lots of little tops and spandex pants, which was what she’d been wearing the last time she’d seen Cash….

Of course he wouldn’t remember that, though. Because he thought she was Edie. He slid beside her, and she actually shuddered when his powerful arm brushed hers, forcing sudden heat into her cheeks, and a strange, undefinable embarrassment at the loss of control, something that only worsened when he casually slipped a large, dry palm beneath hers, threaded his fingers between hers and then closed them, locking their hands.

The touch captured her attention entirely, so only belatedly did she realize he was jeopardizing her manicure. She glanced downward and saw her nails were fine just as he leaned closer, his drawl sounding slow and easy, right next to her ear. “Hey there, Edie, sweetie.”

Edie sweetie? Had her sister’s relationship with Cash really progressed to pet names? Or was he simply playing to the cameras? Either way, his breath sent a shiver down her spine. Vaguely, Marley was aware that Trevor was interviewing the other couples, but she couldn’t concentrate. Cash was better looking than she remembered. So big and muscular. With bunched-up thighs and biceps that said he could easily lift twice her weight in the gym. It was almost enough to make Marley second-guess her motivations. But no…all she’d wanted was to make sure he meant Edie no harm….

But God, he was gorgeous. Oh, just a moment ago, she’d thought she had to go through with this so as not to jeopardize Edie’s relationship with the Dardens and Celebrity Weddings, not to mention her reputation with the American public. But now, she realized she’d better come clean fast. She simply couldn’t spend a week on hot dates with a man this sexy, whom she didn’t trust….

“We know you’re the lucky gal who’s planning the upcoming wedding of hockey star Lorenzo Santini and hotel heiress Julia Darden. Isn’t that right, Edie?”

The blood drained from her face. What if her sister’s meeting with the Dardens was over—and she’d tuned in to the show? This really wasn’t a sixth grade class where she and Edie could trade places as a joke. This was national TV.

“As you mentioned, Trevor,” she found herself responding, her voice shaking just a little in a way she hoped no one noticed, “I’m a wedding planner.” There. She’d just said a sentence to thousands of viewers, maybe millions. Amazing. She felt suddenly breathless. Electrified. Or maybe that was just from the way Cash Champagne was starting to stroke her hand, as if hell-bent on showing the public how hot they were together.

Marley just hated that her palm had begun sweating in Cash’s. His was bone dry, as if he were on TV every night of his life. “I’d also like to talk about my sister,” Marley managed to add, feeling only a twinge of guilt. After all, she might be able to pick up some clients. “Her name’s Marley…and, uh, she’s doing a wonderful job, working as Julia Darden’s personal fitness trainer.”

Now she knew Edie was going to kill her. It was bad enough to impersonate your twin, but she’d just stooped to using the opportunity to promote herself. Brazen hussy, she thought, but forced herself to continue. “Previously, Marley owned a wonderful fitness club called Fancy Abs, and she’s currently shopping for a location for her new venture.” It wasn’t strictly true, since she still didn’t have the money to do so, but maybe someone with an inexpensive rental property would see her on TV and call….

“It’s great of you to give your sister such a glowing recommendation!” exclaimed Trevor. “No sibling rivalry there. You’ve shown just the kind of generosity that endears a contestant to our viewers.”

Great. Really, it was Edie who deserved all the credit. She’d hooked Marley up with the Darden wedding and then introduced her to Emma Goldstein. That had led to Marley’s writing a fitness column for Celebrity Weddings. So far, Marley had written Honed Honeymoon, Sex Muscles and Shapely Mates.

Feeling guilty, Marley hazarded her first glance toward Cash’s dark, smoldering eyes and said, “Uh, look, Trevor…I’m not really sure Cash and I should be on this show.”

Trevor only laughed. A quick glance at Cash showed her that he’d taken the news in stride. As soon as they got out of here, she’d explain everything.

Staring into the camera, Trevor winked knowingly. “We’ve got a female with cold feet. And what’s our studio audience have to say about that?”

Bleeps and horns sounded as the audience pushed buttons on the armrests of their seats. A ding sounded. Then Trevor said, “Go, Edie! You and your date have been voted our underdog couple! If you win, your cash prize doubles. That means one-hundred thousand dollars for you and Cash!”

Marley’s jaw slackened. Edie had said there was a cash prize, but nothing that hefty. Her first thought was that she could comfortably rent the space she needed to put Fancy Abs back in business. She wouldn’t call it Fancy Abs, of course, since that era of her life, which had included Chris, was over. Her second thought was that she could never survive a week of dream dates with any man, much less Cash Champagne, at least not without having sex, which she’d foregone for a year now. And even if she could, the wedding curse would continue to wreak havoc with her future….

But what was she thinking? she chastised herself. She had to get off this show; otherwise, Edie was going to disown her as a sister.

“Really,” Marley protested. “I’ve had second thoughts. I know it’s unusual, but it would be great if you could call back the alternates. Anyone backstage will tell you I was trying to cancel. I really don’t think…”

Trevor bellowed, “What does the studio audience say?”

The crowd punched buttons again. Another ding sounded, and Trevor shouted, “Double underdog! These are two-time losers. She says she doesn’t want to dream-date this man, studio audience! It’s a tough sell. If these two win, the prize is now set at two-hundred thousand dollars for Cash and Edie!”

Marley was definitely weakening. But she was pretty sure the dream dates involved a lot of music, flowers and dressing up in fancy gowns provided by the studio, all romantic things Marley had shut the door on—for life. “That’s an awful lot of money, Trevor, but I don’t think…”

“Cash,” Trevor interrupted. “You’re a southern gentleman. Can you convince your date to help you win this pot of gold?”

Marley’s already stuttering heart missed another beat as Cash sent the camera a devastating smile. He really was gorgeous, with tanned, reddish-chestnut skin, black hair that swept from his face like midnight, and eyes that promised he’d be scrumptious in bed, even if Edie had claimed it was false advertising.

“Why, Trevor,” Cash drawled, “I can be quite persuasive with the ladies.”

Persuasive? Oh no! Surely he didn’t mean…

Marley watched in horror as Cash slowly rose to his feet, dressed in well-worn jeans that lovingly wrapped around his sculpted thighs, pointy-toed western boots and a sport coat the tawny color of a fawn. Turning, he gave the camera his delicious-looking backside, then placed sun-bronzed hands on the armrests of Marley’s chair and hunkered down to eye level.

Ever so slowly, he ducked his head another notch. Her breath caught. So did his. Then he leaned another fraction and feathered his mouth across hers, offering a satisfied, smacking sound that Marley couldn’t help but remember was reverberating over all the airwaves in America.

And then everything went black for just a heartbeat.

Fluttering her eyes, she wondered what had happened. Maybe she’d swooned. Her already woozy head swam, and even though her eyes were shut, the light seemed to shimmer as if she were walking through a desert under a hot sun. Vaguely, she was hoping Edie wasn’t watching this, but she could almost hear Edie’s phone ringing, and their mother’s excited voice saying, “I know you’re not there, Edie. I just wanted you to know that Daddy and I are watching you on TV right now! I know you said you weren’t experiencing any sparks with your new fellow, but that’s not what I’m seeing!”

Or what her sister was feeling. Molten heat had raced through her veins, zipping through her bloodstream, and she could only thank heaven that her feet were enclosed in Edie’s painful high heels, so no one could see the unnatural angle at which her toes had curled.

As Cash drew back, the studio audience took in her stunned expression and screamed with delight, and then Trevor said, “Well, folks, it sure looks as if Edie’s decided to be on our show!”




2


BE ON THE SHOW? After that kiss? No way, Marley thought, ripping the microphone from the lapel of the too-short suit when the cameras stopped rolling. The wool was making her legs itch so badly that she’d wanted to claw her thighs throughout the show, and now, since she’d gulped all that water, she was desperate to find a ladies’ room.

Thankfully, the ridiculously frilly, high-collared blouse beneath the jacket had saved her torso from breaking into hives. Between the pancake foundation someone had applied during a commercial break, the candy-apple blusher and eye shadow better suited to a Hollywood diva, the makeup people who’d been manhandling her since she’d arrived had done a real number on her. Cash was just lucky she hadn’t strong-armed him to the ground! After all, she had taught female self-defense courses at Fancy Abs. Of course Cash didn’t know that because he thought she was Edie….

Yanking down the skirt as she stood, Marley prayed she’d kept her legs together during the show. Not that her panties, which were the only thing she was wearing that belonged to her, weren’t decent. Unlike her twin’s silk thongs, hers were of high-waisted cotton, bought two pairs for a dollar on the street in Chinatown. Careful not to make eye contact, she brushed past Cash, and then beelined toward an Exit sign over the door to the hallway, through which Trevor Milane had just vanished.

If only she could erase the memory of the past hour! Maybe she could just clunk herself on the head, she thought dryly as she hightailed after Trevor, and induce amnesia. Yes…she would refuse to dwell on the swollen feeling of her lips and the unwanted bereft sensation left in the wake of Cash’s kiss, not to mention the undeniable pang solicited by the absence of his mouth, or the weightless, falling feeling she’d been sure she’d never experience again.

“Oh, this is not good,” Marley whispered nervously. The last time she’d had this swooning feeling, her ex had been kissing her goodbye as she’d left for work. Or so she’d thought. Eleven hours later, she’d found the note that said he’d kissed her goodbye—forever. After taking the money from their joint accounts, he’d left for Key West to fulfill his lifelong ambition of living on a houseboat, a dream he’d somehow failed to mention to Marley before.

Still eyeing the Exit sign, she reminded herself that what Cash had forced her to experience was a mere bodily response to male stimuli. Cash’s lips had landed on hers, and sure, she’d shuddered. Her belly had warmed, her blood had quickened, her thighs had squeezed together and her breasts had tightened. But it meant nothing. This New Year’s, she’d sworn off men, but if a man did certain things, healthy women were bound to feel certain other things. Dabbing her upper lip, Marley wished hot sweats wasn’t one of them.

Fortunately, she was mature. Her divorce had left her hardened and more worldly. Men’s kisses could affect her body now, but not her mind. Never again would she let physical experiences sway her good judgment. Sure, immediately after Cash had kissed her, she’d said she’d remain on the show. And sure, to the viewers of America, it might have looked as if Cash had persuaded her with one stupid kiss.

But Marley had the power. She could easily have wrestled Cash to the floor with a headlock. Or kneed his groin. Oh, she really didn’t trust him. He was too pretty, superficial and slick. With those prominent cheekbones, thick black hair and straight nose, he looked like a model or a rock star. He wasn’t Marley’s type, and besides, he was her sister’s boyfriend, at least technically. And yes, maybe the word boyfriend was strong. Which was to the point. Marley had suspected this man’s motives. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she could tell Cash had some ulterior reason for dating Edie….

Barreling through the door, she entered the long hallway she’d traversed earlier, her legs teetering. Why she couldn’t walk in Edie’s high heels, she’d never know. Snowboarding was her favorite pastime, and she in-line skating down the West Side Highway at speeds that beat city traffic.

Run, run, run, her mind was screaming. But her ankles were wobbling. The stilettos were catching on the thick pile of the carpet. Unfortunately, most of the office doors were shut, and she needed to talk to Trevor. He’d know how to rectify this situation. She thought she’d glimpsed his nameplate at the far end of the hallway. She had to get off the show. There was no other alternative after that…

Kiss.

Her throat closed at the thought of the lip-lock that had made her workouts seem tame. Her head swam, and vaguely, she wondered if it had really been a year since she’d had sex. Heat had burned off her as Cash mushed his lips to hers, and she figured she must have lost at least a pound, maybe two. It had definitely been a calorie-burning sizzler. Even now, she could see those suntanned fingers curling around the armrests of her seat, trapping her. Just as she’d gasped, the scent of his skin had tunneled to her lungs, and a heartbeat later, the silken tip of his tongue had teased open her lips, wetting them….

But who was he, really? He’d scarcely touched Edie, which was one reason Marley didn’t trust him. Face it, men craved sex like air, and so Cash’s hands-off policy with Marley’s twin was suspicious. And he didn’t live in New York. Oh, he’d said he was from New Orleans, and he’d said he was helping a friend open a club, but Marley was convinced that the whole story wouldn’t hold water, not if she played armchair detective, made a few phone calls and checked him out. Maybe she’d do just that….

Suddenly, she squealed. “Ouch!” He’d grabbed her from behind, closing his fingers around her upper arm. “Let me go, Cash.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Yeah, right. She’d smelled the clean male scent of him and heard the soft brush of his boot heels on the carpet. Somehow, she couldn’t force herself to turn around and face him, not yet. No heat in the man’s kisses? What had her twin been talking about? His every pore was leaking testosterone. “That’s the other thing,” Marley muttered hotly, hardly caring that she was continuing a monologue she’d been having in her head.

“What’s that?”

Wrenching her arm away, she whirled to face him. “I guess the rumors about southern men are true.”

His laugh shouldn’t have been annoying, but it was. “Which rumor? That we kiss to beat the band?”

“No, the rumor about having your way with women, regardless of their feelings. You have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“I hadn’t even started talking about myself yet.” Cash’s dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “Just my kisses.”

“They might not fly so well in Yankee territory,” she returned sweetly in her best southern accent, rapidly batting her eyelashes, a move that didn’t come naturally.

“I don’t see why we need to make this a North-South issue, since the Civil War was over a long time ago.”

“Ah. But was it really civil?”

“No war is,” he agreed.

Fortunately, she’d made it halfway to Trevor’s office, and now she reminded herself that, in just a moment, she’d be released from her obligation to the show, at least if she were lucky. Surely, they could start over tomorrow with the alternates. “Look. This isn’t what you think.”

The eyes drifting down every inch of her didn’t look convinced, but they did look curious. “No?”

This would shake him up. “I’m not Edie.”

She almost smiled, since she’d clearly unsettled him. Finally. With satisfaction, she watched his calm, cool, collected demeanor change, and she felt glad she was wearing Edie’s high heels. Now that she was standing still, the shoes made her tall enough to meet his liquid eyes.

As the seconds ticked on, however, she got uncomfortable again. She became overly conscious of people crowding into the hallway, the flicker of fluorescent lights and the shortness of her own breath. She became aware of other things, too, which she’d have preferred to ignore, such as how his well-worn jeans clung to lean hips and snuggled around the unmistakable rise beneath his zipper. The other male contestants had worn suits, but Cash had somehow stopped the reality-show staff from wrestling him out of his beloved jeans. She glanced around. Where were the other contestants, anyway? Had they exited by another doorway? And why wasn’t he saying anything?

When he finally did, he said, “You’re not Edie?”

She hated to disappoint him. Feeling a twinge of guilt, she rushed on. “Uh…I know I look like her tonight. I mean, with the blown-out hair and makeup.” She was even wearing panty hose. “But…” In mid-sentence, her mouth went dry again. He really was incredibly good-looking. Somehow, she managed to repeat, “Uh…no, I’m not Edie.”

He said the last thing expected. “Uh…no shit, Marley.”

Her heart fluttered. “You knew?” Oh, this made everything so much worse.

“Uh…yeah.”

She squinted. “So, why did you look surprised?”

“Uh…I thought you knew that I knew that you weren’t…” His voice trailed off.

At what exact point had he known? She had to ask. “When? Before or after?” The kiss.

He rubbed a jaw that was turning dark with five-o’clock stubble, his equally dark eyebrows knitting together. “I suspected all along,” he said in a slow drawl. “But I wasn’t sure until you kissed me. Let’s just say…you two don’t kiss alike.”

“TMI,” she managed to say, not about to encourage anything more about her sister’s kissing habits.

“TMI?”

“Too much information.”

“You asked me,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t kiss you, though. You kissed me.” Big difference. How could men be so deluded? Marley hated to generalize, but it wasn’t just Cash who seemed too full of himself. Lots of men overestimated their prowess. Marley was hardly the first woman to notice, either. History was full of astute women who had managed to pick up on this. “I did nothing,” she clarified, hoping he understood. “I sat there in stunned silence.”

Those inky eyes, so alive with shadow, widened. “Really?”

Why didn’t he seem to believe her? “Just now—” Marley jerked her thumb back toward the studio. “When you kissed me,” she continued, placing correct emphasis on the pronouns, “my mouth dropped open in shock. Maybe you saw more into that than it really was, Cash.”

“Maybe so,” he said, the words running together like molasses, his lips pursing pensively, “and since I pride myself on paying close attention, Marley, I have to apologize. I don’t know what confused me more, the way you flung your arms around my neck, or the way you went at me with all that tongue action.”

“Do men really say things like this?” she muttered. “Tongue action?”

He looked like he was fighting a smile. “Apparently, some do.”

Had she used her tongue? Had she wrapped her arms around his neck? Shutting her eyes briefly, she tried to remember, but she drew a blank. Surely, he was wrong. She’d remember if she’d kissed him back. “Look,” she began diplomatically, opening her eyes. “On this issue, let’s agree to disagree. Apparently, we each have our own version.”

Before he could contradict her, she quickly cleared her throat. “And my being on the show wasn’t intentional,” she plunged on. “Edie had nothing to do with it. She doesn’t even know. She asked me to come here, but not to be on the show with you. I mean, it’s not like we were trading places with each other, the way we did when we were kids.” He was looking at her expectantly, so she added, “It’s a long story….”

“I’ve got all night.”

“Well, I don’t,” she assured quickly.

“If you’re in a hurry, I’m all ears.”

Still trying to ignore the fact that they’d kissed at all, much less on national television, she took a deep breath and said, “Edie’s been trying to call you all day.” She tried to keep the accusation from her tone, but still, if Cash had made himself available to his own girlfriend, none of this would have happened. “She said you disappeared, but she wanted you to know she had second thoughts about being on the show.”

“She couldn’t come?”

“She got hung up.” When he didn’t look convinced, she added, “Really. She had to pick up ring designs from Bridget before she met the Dardens for a wedding-planning meeting.”

“So she sent you?”

“Sent would be strong,” Marley corrected, hardly about to divulge her own plans to interrogate him. “She asked and I agreed.” She wouldn’t have it implied that she took orders from Edie. “I tried to call your hotel and your cell phone, but there was no answer. I came here to leave a message, but one thing led to another. The male and female contestants were separated,” she explained, “and before I could stop them, the staff pushed me into the green room.”

“Even after you said you wanted off the show?”

She nodded. “I was trying to make them stop putting on makeup…”

He looked at her as if noticing the eye shadow for the first time. “Understandable.”

“And nails.” She held up blood-red talons. “They seemed to think lots of color would play well for the camera—” Pausing, she scrutinized him. “I can see now that only women were targeted, and the men were spared.”

Cash deadpanned. “You don’t like my blow-dry?”

“You even got to wear jeans.”

“They said I had cowboy appeal.”

“Cowboy appeal?”

He shrugged. “The boots.”

“The only thing about me they liked was Edie’s hairdo.” Puffing her cheeks, she realized Cash’s eyes had locked on to hers. Whew. Some eyes. How come Edie hadn’t responded to this guy? Suddenly, everything went still. She registered the people milling around them and the fact that, despite the crowd, she felt as if she were alone with him.

“I like you better in sweatpants.”

Marley wished he hadn’t said it. “You like sweatpants?”

“Not so much as the sports bras and ripped midriffs that go with them.”

“Hmm.” This was the guy whom Edie had sworn lacked testosterone? Granted, Marley tried to stay out of her sister’s love life, which was easy, since it was virtually nonexistent, but still, she’d gotten roped into at least one conversation about Cash’s supposed deficiencies. Definitely, she had to draw some very firm boundaries here. “Well, you’ve probably noticed that, uh, I’m not very available.”

“You’re abrupt,” he agreed, a slow, sexy smile saying he didn’t mind in the least. “Downright rude the day I offered you a ride.”

“It’s nothing personal,” she assured.

“How is rudeness not personal?”

“I was trying to be discouraging,” she corrected. “Not rude.” She just wished he weren’t studying her with eyes hot enough to melt glaciers.

“So, Edie wanted off the show?” He really did look disappointed.

“I’m sorry, but it’s nothing personal. She just thought the better of it. Honestly, I think she remembered the wedding curse and just got a case of jitters. You do know about the family curse, don’t you?”

“Not much. Maybe you can tell me more.”

Not in this lifetime. “Uh…maybe. But right now, we have a lot of other things on our plate, right? I do think we can work this out. Trevor Milane will know what to do. I was just headed to his office….” She flashed an insincere smile, hardly able to muster a genuine one, not when her nostrils were filled with his enticing male scent, and his hard, hot body was this close. “Why don’t you come along?”

Deciding not to prolong the conversation—or agony—she turned on one of Edie’s high heels and wobbled down the hallway, not surprised to feel Cash close behind. “Mr. Milane,” she said when she reached his office.

Seated at his desk, he looked up. “Yes?”

When she felt a jolt of electricity behind her, she realized Cash’s chest had brushed her back, and she tried to ignore how her heart jump-started. “I can’t be on Rate the Dates. I’ve been trying to explain this ever since I got here. Who can I talk to?”

“Of course you’re on the show,” Trevor soothed, rising and circling his desk. “I know you’re a bundle of nerves. But our staff is trained to handle jitters.”

“I don’t have jitters,” Marley corrected. He was making her sound like the proverbial neurotic female.




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