Twin Scandals Page 9

  “I don’t get it,” she said coolly. “Why would he do that?”

  “Maybe because you spent the night with him,” Francesca said crisply. “When I told him you weren’t in, he left.”

  Sophie tensed. “How did you know I spent the night with Ben?”

  There was a small silence. “I saw you kissing him at Nick’s launch party, out on the terrace, then you disappeared. It was an easy bet that you spent the night together.”

  Heat warmed Sophie’s cheeks. She vaguely recalled that there had been a few people on the terrace, but there had been no one close, and she and Ben had been at one end and in the shadows. She had thought they had been reasonably private and discreet. “Why didn’t you say anything to me about it?”

  There was an awkward silence. “Did you really expect me to? The scene near the dance floor was pretty public. And there were a dozen or so people out on the terrace when you kissed Ben, including that gossip reporter Sally Parker. When I walked outside looking for you, it seemed clear that you’d gone after Ben to get him back.”

  Another wave of embarrassed heat flared through Sophie. She felt like crawling away to hide in a very small, very dark corner, because Francesca was absolutely right. Sophie had been trying to reclaim Ben. “Does Nick know?”

  “He knows about the kiss and, like everyone else on the planet, he knows you spent the night with Atraeus.”

  It registered that Francesca sounded a little strange, her voice flat and cool, almost as if she was angry. Sophie frowned. “What’s wrong? You seem upset—”

  “I’m fine! Why would anything possibly be wrong with me? I’m the happy one who always floats along on the surface and who never has dramas or gets hurt or ditched.”

  Okay, so Francesca was definitely angry about something. Probably that, after all of the advice and counseling she had given Sophie—and after Sophie had vowed and declared that she was finished with Ben—Sophie had turned around and slept with him again. She rubbed at her temples, which had tightened with a niggling stress headache. “Look, maybe we should forget the restaurant. We’re both tired. I haven’t had much sleep, and I need a shower—”

  “Nick also wants to come along. He’s stuck with clients until five thirty, so he’s suggested six o’clock at Alfresco.”

  Even though she had been braced for it, Sophie’s stomach tightened. Of all her brothers, Nick was probably the most opinionated and stubborn. Usually it didn’t matter, but this time her private life had gotten entangled with Nick’s business. The potential was there for him to think she had slept with both of his new business partners, and that he wouldn’t take lightly.

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he knows you slept with Ben.”

  Relief made Sophie feel suddenly weak. She sat down on a chair, her mind racing. She loved her family to pieces, but her brothers—especially Nick—tended to be medieval in their thought processes. When it came to their sisters and sex, if they’d had their way, she and Francesca would have died virgins.

  It was way too late for that scenario, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be upset. Calling Luisa Messena had been a way of short-circuiting the storm, but it was a fact that if Nick thought she had slept with Ben again, let alone John, it wouldn’t be long before he was knocking on her door demanding an explanation. It would take a major event to distract him.

  When she’d impulsively decided to stay with John, she hadn’t thought about Francesca’s possible reaction, or Nick’s. All she’d wanted to do was get past the horrible feeling of being ditched by Ben for the second time, of somehow being lacking in the qualities that attracted a mate, of being essentially unlovable. And to make sure Ben understood that he was forgotten.

  Now it looked like Francesca thought she’d spent nights with both Ben and Atraeus. And who knew what Nick thought. “Look, it’s not what it seems. I admit, I wanted to get back at Ben, and spending the night with John seemed the perfect solution. He’s tall, dark and handsome and the media love him, so from that point of view he seemed perfect. Plus, he was obviously in need of some TLC—”

  “He suggested you spend the night with him?”

  The niggle at Sophie’s temples sharpened. “Not exactly. I admit I had to twist his arm, but in the end it was win-win for us both. Especially since—”

  “Spare me the details.” There was a tense silence. “Does Mom know?”

  Sophie frowned again. No doubt about it, Francesca thought she had a thing for John, otherwise why ask the Mom question? It was an unwritten rule that all of the Messena siblings only ever told Luisa Messena about a date when it was someone who was a possible husband or wife. So far she had only ever told her mother about one guy: Ben, and look how that had worked out.

  Suddenly, she was over the inquisition and Francesca’s complete lack of support for her when usually she was a reliable shoulder to cry on. And completely over the idea that she was unpopular and couldn’t sustain a love life. “Mom’s cool with it,” she bit out. “As a matter of fact, I called her from the hotel.”

  “I guess if Mom’s happy,” Francesca said flatly, “then I should be happy for you.”

  “You don’t need to be happy for me! John and I aren’t in a relationship. He’s likable enough but he’s a bit like that guy I dated the other night, what’s his name...?” Sophie’s brows jerked together. “Tobias. Not really my type. I didn’t even mean to spend the night with John, but that reporter Sally Parker was in the hotel foyer and I was in a state of shock because—” She stopped; suddenly her chest was banded so tight she could barely breathe. “Ben walked out on me,” she muttered huskily. “Again.”

  There was a brief, vibrating silence. “I thought you were over him! You said you wouldn’t have anything more to do with Ben.”

  Ridiculous tears burned her lids at the concern in Francesca’s voice. Until that moment the conversation had been stilted and tense, almost as if they had fallen out, which was crazy. “I was stupid enough to change my mind.”

  “Then you spent the night with John Atraeus.”

  “Like I told you, that was just a convenient arrangement. We were just helping each other out—”

  “Well, just so you know, Ben’s asked me out on a date. And I’m thinking of saying yes!”

  The sudden dial tone indicated Francesca had hung up.

  Shock reverberated through Sophie. Replacing the phone in its cradle, she stared bleakly at the wall for long seconds. Francesca was now dating Ben? In what world could that happen?

  Francesca had only ever tolerated Ben because of Sophie. Even then, she couldn’t count the number of times Francesca had told her to forget about Ben because she had a feeling about him, because he was a bad risk. Because of all the men Sophie had dated, Francesca liked him the least.

  Snatching up the phone again, she called Francesca, but it was busy. Frustrated, she terminated the call, found her cell and called Francesca on that. The call went through to voice mail.

  Placing her cell on the coffee table, she began to pace. She wondered whom Francesca was calling? Ben?

  An odd sense of disorientation gripped her. She felt like her whole world had been tipped upside down and shaken. Every cell in her body rebelled at the idea of Francesca and Ben together. It just didn’t compute.

  She found herself staring at an oil painting Francesca had painted and given to her as a gift. It was a large vivid abstract, with slashes of red, orange and bright turquoise that somehow fitted perfectly with Sophie’s minimalistic decor and, through some kind of curious alchemy, made everything work.

  The contrast of the vibrant painting with Sophie’s restrained decor seemed to sum up their relationship. Francesca was creative, Sophie was more about numbers and organization, but they complemented each other. Beyond family, they were best friends.

  And they did not date each other’s boyfriends.

 
Or at least they hadn’t until Francesca had undergone a Jekyll and Hyde transformation.

  Sophie hadn’t wanted to go out again, but now wild horses wouldn’t keep her from that restaurant. Out of sheer habit, because she was the one who usually took care of details like booking restaurant tables, she called Alfresco. Six o’clock was a busy time, because a lot of people called in there after work. If she didn’t book, they would end up having to wait for a table.

  A waitress Sophie knew quite well answered. When Sophie made the reservation, Alice checked the computer and came back to her. “No need, Francesca booked the table, but for five, not six. Do you want to change the time? Because if so, I’ll have to call her to confirm—”

  “No, five is fine. Thanks!” Sophie hung up. Her stomach felt tight and her head was thumping. She paced a few steps and found herself staring at her reflection in a mirror. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes dark, and there was a pulse beating along the side of her jaw, which only happened when she was ultrastressed.

  There was only one reason for Francesca to be at Alfresco a whole hour earlier than she had arranged with Sophie and Nick. She was meeting someone else. And that someone else had to be Ben.

  Francesca had said on the phone that she was thinking of saying yes to Ben, which meant that she hadn’t agreed to date him yet. Meeting him secretly at Alfresco could only mean she had decided to go ahead with the date, because if she was saying no all she needed to do was phone or text.

  Sophie checked her watch. Her stomach tightened. It was almost five now. For the space of a few seconds she couldn’t decide what to do next, which was so infuriatingly not her. Then a weird kind of calmness took over. She could be wrong. Maybe Francesca wasn’t meeting, or dating, Ben.

  And maybe pigs could fly. Either way, she needed to know.

  Adrenaline pumping, she dragged the pins from her hair, strode into her bedroom and quickly changed into cotton jeans and a white camisole top. She checked her reflection in the mirror and frowned. If she was surveilling the restaurant, it followed that she didn’t want to be seen, so it made sense to avoid wearing her signature white.

  She quickly changed into a pair of olive green linen pants that had been a mistake purchase, and a taupe shirt that also happened to have matching blocks of olive on it. It struck her that together the pants and shirt looked uncannily like camouflage, but she didn’t have time to change again. Besides, the whole point was to blend in and not be seen.

  She brushed her hair out so that it swung loosely around her shoulders then found a ball cap in a neutral color and dragged it down over her brow, tweaking the bill so it shaded the top half of her face. She put on sunglasses and grinned. Her own mother wouldn’t recognize her. Checking her watch and muttering beneath her breath because now she was late, she slipped on casual sandals, grabbed her handbag and headed for the door.

  Dealing with Nick wasn’t going to be easy; he was difficult on a good day but she could manage him. It was the possibility of Francesca making a play for Ben, meeting him behind her back, that was making her see red.

  That would happen over her dead body.

  Sophie may have made a mistake with Ben twice, but he was her mistake and no one else’s.

  Eight

  Sophie parked her SUV in a space half a block short of Alfresco, so that if Francesca was meeting Ben she would be able to see her approaching from the opposite direction. As she turned the ignition off, a muscular four-wheel-drive Jeep cruised slowly past. She caught a glimpse of tanned cheekbones and a tough jaw and froze. It was Ben, looking remote behind a pair of dark glasses.

  Her mood plummeted. If Ben was here, then Francesca had to be meeting him.

  She considered ducking down but decided against it. She was pretty sure Ben didn’t know what her vehicle looked like. Plus, she was wearing the ball cap, so it wasn’t likely he would recognize her anyway. When she caught the movement of his head, as if he was checking out something in the rearview mirror, she stiffened, then common sense kicked in. He was looking to park, so of course he would check for traffic behind him.

  Nevertheless, she slunk down a little lower in her seat and watched until his Jeep pulled over, just a few spaces ahead. Seconds later, without looking in her direction, he strolled into the restaurant. Letting out a relieved breath that he hadn’t seen her after all, she checked her watch. Now that the air-conditioning was off, the SUV was heating up. She noticed a heavy buildup of dark clouds, which accounted for the increased humidity.

  As the minutes ticked by and she didn’t spot anyone remotely resembling Francesca walking into Alfresco, she pondered what to do. Maybe it was a huge coincidence that Ben was here, but how likely was that? She had to conclude that Francesca had arrived early and was already waiting inside for him.

  That conclusion should have been enough, except that a stubborn part of her wanted absolute proof; she needed to see them together. Grabbing her handbag, she stepped out into the breathless heat, locked the SUV and started toward the restaurant.

  As she walked along the sidewalk, the sun was blotted out by a large purple cloud, and thunder sounded in the distance. But the threat of a cooling downpour didn’t seem to make any difference to the air, which was hot and compressed and humid, opening every pore.

  She reached the restaurant and took out her phone, pretending to be absorbed by the screen as she surreptitiously checked out the diners visible in Alfresco’s windows. Frustratingly, Ben and Francesca were not there, which meant they were seated farther back, possibly even in the shady little courtyard out back.

  Perspiration coated her skin and trickled down her spine as she tried to decide what to do next. She undid a button of her shirt and flapped the damp material in an effort to create a cooling draft. She longed to rip the cap off and throw it away. But now that the initial surge of hurt and anger had passed, her usual clarity was returning. She had come this far; she wasn’t going home without proof. She needed to see Ben and Francesca together.

  Large droplets of rain made the decision for her. She was going in. If Ben and Francesca saw her then, that was a risk she had to take. As she neared the front door of the restaurant, an unexpected solution presented itself. A large group of young people who were seated outside, alarmed by the impending downpour, now wanted to be reseated inside. She let them dash into Alfresco ahead of her, then stepped into the foyer directly behind them. To any casual onlooker, she hoped it would appear that she was with them.

  She had kept her sunglasses on, which made things a little dim, but even so she saw the back of Francesca’s head almost immediately. She was alone. A cautious wave of relief went through Sophie. Francesca had her laptop out, which meant she was probably working on a design project, something she sometimes did in cafés. Although that didn’t mean she wasn’t also meeting Ben.

  A waitress was in the process of showing the chattering group ahead of her to tables when she saw Ben step in from the rear door, which led to the courtyard, and slide into the seat opposite Francesca. He had a cell in his hand, which meant he had probably just stepped outside for a few minutes to take a private call. As he sat, his head came up and his gaze locked unerringly with Sophie’s.

  For a split second she froze like a deer in the headlights, then a whole raft of feelings hit: confusion, humiliation, hurt. When she had seen Ben with the anonymous blonde at Nick’s launch party, she had been coolly, quietly furious. But this was different: Francesca was her sister. Ben had crossed an unforgivable line.

  Pulse pounding, she turned on her heel and walked outside. Still on automatic pilot, she threaded her way through the now vacated outdoor tables. Cool air laced with droplets of rain hit her as she headed for her car. She dragged off her sunglasses and dropped them in her bag. She was within sight of her SUV when thunder detonated overhead. Glad that she had thought to pack a small umbrella, she retrieved it from her handbag and flipped it open. Seconds later
, torrential rain crashed down.

  Ben’s gleaming black Jeep loomed out of the blanket of rain. She deliberately gave it a wide berth. Some preternatural instinct made her glance over her shoulder. She glimpsed the unmistakable figure of Ben as he stepped out of the restaurant.

  Her heart slammed against her chest and she quickened her pace. She vetoed the thought that he was coming after her. He was probably just heading to his Jeep. After all, he had only glimpsed her in a darkened foyer, and she had been in disguise and wearing sunglasses. How could he possibly have known it was her?

  And why should she be worried if he had recognized her? She wasn’t the one who was sneaking around. All she had wanted to do was confirm whether or not her twin was meeting with her ex-lover. She had done nothing wrong.

  Annoyed with her panicked overreaction, Sophie forced herself to relax and slowed her pace to a sedate stroll. Ben might have a lot of sterling attributes, but the last she’d heard he did not have supernatural powers.

  Ben called her name.

  Adrenaline pumped. Sucking in a deep breath, Sophie kept her nerve. If she didn’t respond, but kept walking as if the name Sophie meant nothing to her, maybe Ben would think he was wrong and give up.

  Her SUV loomed through the steady rain. Fingers shaking annoyingly, she found the keys to the SUV and deactivated the lock.

  A distant clap of thunder signaled that the short, violent squall was moving away. The heavy rain ceased as suddenly as if someone had turned off a tap.

  With controlled haste, she put the umbrella down. Another step and her fingers closed around the handle of the driver’s side door, but her heady moment of triumph that she had avoided Ben was cut short by his deep voice. “Damn, it is you.”

  She yanked open the driver-side door of the SUV, but before she could climb behind the wheel, a hand curled briefly around her wrist, almost stopping her heart.

  She spun, outraged that Ben had touched her, even if he had released her almost immediately. She glared at him, noting with grim satisfaction that while she was relatively dry, he was soaked, his black T-shirt plastered to his shoulders and chest and water dripping from his hair. But soaked to the skin, he somehow managed to look larger and edgier than usual.